The New York Trilogy - Margin Call

As you already know, I have been to the opening night of the New Directors Festival at the Moma to attend the screening of Margin Call, a movie by young filmmaker J. C. Chandor.
I have to confess it straight away: the only reason why I wanted to see so badly this picture, it is because Jeremy Irons has a part in it. The financial world is not exactly my cup of tea, and movies like Wall Street simply make me feel sick, so - to tell you the truth - I wasn’t that ready to love a picture about the economic crisis. Sometimes, though, cinema is just like this: you go there prepared to see a movie you probably won’t like, and then you like it a lot. Margin Call narrates (very intensely) 24 hours in the life of a Wall Street financial company: the 24 hours preceding the economic meltdown of 2008. A group of people is involved in the events: a couple of young employees who discover that something is going wrong, and their different bosses. When the situation seems pretty desperate, in the middle of the night, takes place an unexpected Board of Directors with the President of the company in order to assume urgent and radical decisions. In the morning, the company will be saved, while the rest of the world will start its slow descent into poverty.  
The good thing about Margin Call is that the approach of Chandor is a humanistic one: he is interested in showing how this extreme situation is perceived and lived by the different people involved, if ethic is a word still having a meaning in this kind of world and how human beings are affected by jobs like this. 
And, apparently, there is something rotten in Wall Street.
In one of the greatest scenes of the movie, one of the bosses of the company is crying over the imminent death of his dog and three seconds afterwards he's making the most cynical speech to his employees about the reasons why some of them have just been fired and some others are still there. Power and money have consumed the soul of the oldest guys: this is a fight for survival and any blow under the belt is admitted. The youngest ones are looking at their bosses with a mix of admiration and disbelief: you can see that they wish to be like them, to earn as much money, to have that kind of power over other people and that they’re ready to pay any price in terms of human feelings to reach that position. This is particularly clear when the President arrives in their offices by private helicopter and with just few conversations and radical (almost inhuman) decisions solve the problem for them letting their investors losing all the money. The weakest ones are the ones who are fired, and who will not survive. And even when one of the bosses has a moment of indecision and unexpected qualms of guilt, it is simply too late for him to step back or to pretend he is not an active part of this scary machine.  
Chandor filmed this movie last summer in just few weeks and you can feel the urgency, the feverish atmosphere and the intensity of the experience. He also managed to gather a very good group of actors: besides Jeremy Irons (as the President of the company), the cast includes Kevin Spacey, Stanley Tucci, Demi Moore, Paul Bettany, Zachary Quinto and Simon Baker. When Jeremy Irons and Kevin Spacey are together on screen, despite the unsettling feeling the movie was giving me, I realized I was suddenly relaxing in my seat. Their performance was so overwhelming that I couldn’t be bothered by any financial or ethical problem. I was just enjoying to see them playing so well. There are things that, after all, even money can’t buy…

The New York Trilogy - Blue Valentine

A simple advice: please don’t go to see this movie on a first date or if your couple is going through a crisis (it’s a question of survival), but in all other cases, I strongly recommend you the vision of this picture, one of the best I have recently seen.

Blue Valentine is the pitiless dissection of a couple’s history, the one formed by Dean and Cindy. Young, married and having a lovely child called Frankie, they live in a small and ordinary American town. They’re both working class people, but Cindy studied to become a nurse and has a decent job, while Dean left high school and always had temporary jobs, and now survives painting houses. The movie doesn’t follow the events chronologically, so we see them in their present life and then, piece by piece, we get to know how they met, how they fell in love and how they fell out of love (François Ozon made a similar thing in his movie 5x2, but in that case he followed the love affair from the end to the beginning, while here the present and the past are mixing in an emotional roller coaster). Things inside the couple are not getting well, and this is pretty clear. Cindy looks fed up with Dean’s attitude towards life: he is drinking a lot and he doesn’t have any ambition in his professional life. Their attempts to revive their connection, both physical and spiritual, are failing miserably and the end of the affair is just around the corner.

Blue Valentine is a great and pitiless movie: it really kills you. You are torn apart by watching this couple slowly dying, especially when you witness the way they felt at the beginning. Their love looked grandiose and strong, and let you believe for a moment that they can both leave behind bleak families and bleak events and have a new, fresh start. Unfortunately, this movie looks pretty much like real life, and so the happy ending is quite difficult.

Derek Cianfrance, the filmmaker, has done a magnificent job: the description of the love affair is romantic without being cheesy, while the end of it is filmed in an extremely real but compassionate way.

This picture is so powerful, though, especially because of the unbelievably good performance of the two actors: Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling. These two actors have a similar story: they both started to work for children and teenagers TV programs (Gosling for Disney Channel together with Britney Spears!, Williams for the series Dawson's Creek), then they switch to mainstream movies and now they are becoming icons of independent cinema (Williams notably for her role in Wendy and Lucie, Gosling for the one of a drug addict professor in Half Nelson). In this movie, they prove to be splendid actors. They look so natural, true, passionate, distraught, human: the audience is obliged to feel what they feel, to empathize with them. It is a painful but worth it process (I read  that the two actors spent a month living together before the shooting to really get into the characters).

Blue Valentine is a movie that gets under the skin and leaves you with an unsettling feeling about the hopelessness of human soul. 
Welcome to the club!

The New York Trilogy - Jane Eyre

While in New York, I went to the movies three times.

I have seen three completely different pictures, but I have enjoyed them in the same, intense way. Each of them dragged me in their own particular atmosphere and I felt shaken by every vision, and it is exactly what I expect from cinema. Here they are!

Oh, I was SO looking forward to seeing THIS movie!

For two main reasons: I am a huge fan of the Brontë Sisters (I grew up reading and adoring their novels) and I am a huge fan of the actors playing the main roles. It is impossible to have seen all the adaptations of this book made over the years both by cinema and television, but I have always tried to be updated. The story is a classic of literature history (written in 1847): Jane Eyre, a little orphan, is put by her awful aunt into a gloomy school where she learns to be a teacher and a governess. Once left the place, Jane accepts a governess position at Thornfield House, and she secretly falls in love with the house master, the very moody Mr. Rochester. After a while, Mr. Rochester asks Jane to marry him: this is a much unexpected event for the girl, but things don’t go the way they should…

The young film-maker Cary Fukunaga (best known until now for his movie Sin Nombre) and screen writer Moira Buffini (best known for her great work on Tamara Drewe), managed to create a striking novel’s adaptation, with the benefit of a modern touch (especially for the gothic, almost horror-film atmosphere), but I really think that the movie should have been longer. The 2 hours version doesn’t allow enough time to the relationship between Jane and Mr. Rochester to fully develop. This is the only major defect I’ve found to the movie: when Mr. Rochester asks Jane to marry him, the proposal sounds weird not only to Jane but also to the movie audience. It is a pity, because the chemistry between the two actors is really amazing and all the first scenes between them are full of great expectations. The thing I wasn’t disappointed by, was surely the cast: young Australian actress Mia Wasikowska (her portrait of a suicidal teenager in the first season of In Treatment was simply unforgettable!) is a splendid Jane Eyre. Her mix of seriousness, dignity, wittiness and search for independence gives to the character a contemporary appeal. German/Irish actor Michael Fassbender is probably too young to play Rochester (he is just 34 years old) but he is so good to portray this grumpy, arrogant and yet fascinating man, that we instantly believe in anything he says or does (Zazie has been telling you this since 2009: watch, watch, watch for this actor, he will be very famous some day soon!). In minor roles, Dame Judi Dench, Sally Hawkins and Jamie Bell, reminds us that, well, British actors always do it better!

If you're looking for a truly romantic movie, you can't find a better one. 

Byrne, baby, Byrne!

New York City, Titus Theater, Moma, Wednesday 23 March 2011, 7 pm. 
Opening night of the New Directors Festival.  
I am there with my friend Rob to see a movie called Margin Call by J. C. Chandor. The reason is simple: Jeremy Irons plays a part in it. The film is very good (I’ll talk about it later in this blog) and after the projection there is a Q&A with the director and one of the actors (no, unfortunately not Irons). Since Rob and I were seated in the first raw, I didn’t have the chance to look at the audience, but when we leave our seats and we are moving towards the exit, I catch a glimpse of somebody... and I almost faint.
Irish actor Gabriel Byrne is standing there, few meters ahead of me, apparently being part of the same world I live in.
This is not the first time in my life I am SO lucky. In 2000, in this same city, I went to see him playing in O’Neill's A moon for the misbegotten. I even talked to him after his performance (and he was very charming), but seeing him again now, it is even more amazing. I consider In Treatment - the HBO TV Series about a shrink and his patients (already arrived at its third seasons) - a real masterpiece and his performance as Doctor Paul Weston simply astonishing (yes, I already wrote a post about it in this blog, so it’s nothing new!). I admire him and love him more than ever. At the moment, in my personal list of “Actors I would like to chat (and possibly marry) with” Byrne is at place n° 1 together with Irish/German actor Michael Fassbender. 

Gabriel Byrne as Doctor Paul Weston (In Treatment)

All this to let you imagine my state of confusion and agitation… I hear two women behind me talking to each other: “Hey, look, there is Gabriel Byrne in front of us”, “Oh my God, what should we do?”, “Well, go and get him!” I immediately think: excellent idea! Let’s go and get him, girls, but none of us has the guts to do so. The problem is, Mr. Byrne is not by himself. There is a stunningly gorgeous woman close to him. His girlfriend, I presume. They walk into the lobby of the theatre where there is a small bar and they meet with two friends.
They start talking, undisturbed. Am I the only one who wants to speak to this man? You gotta be kidding me. Rob explains me that New Yorkers are renowned for their snobbish attitude towards famous people. Evidently enough, I’m not a real New Yorker, and I want immediately ask this man when we will be able to see the season 4 of In Treatment. It’s a question of life or death, do you understand? But, still, I don’t move. I can’t. He is there: elegant, charming, relaxed, smiling, living his life, marvellous. I just stare at him, at the opposite corner of the lobby. I am so persistent that at a certain point Mr. Byrne looks towards me. I can read his thought: who is this crazy woman looking at me so insistently? And it is in this very moment that I think about the last scene of Baisers Volés (Stolen Kisses) by François Truffaut. Antoine Doinel and his girlfriend Christine Darbon are seated on a bench of a public park and this weird man walks towards them. He has been following Christine for the whole movie. But this is the first time that we hear him speaking. He puts himself in front of her, completely ignoring Antoine (he never looks at him) and he makes his love declaration. Yes! This is what I want to do. Walking towards Gabriel Byrne and his girlfriend and, looking Gabriel straight in the eyes, to announce him: “I know life well. I know that everyone betrays everyone else. But it will be different with you and me. We will never be apart. Not even for a single hour. You will be my sole preoccupation. I understand this is all too sudden for you to say yes right away and that you need time to sever the temporary ties that bind you to temporary people. But… I AM DEFINITIVE!”. 

Of course, all this happened just inside my head.  
Outside, I simply watched Gabriel Byrne and his girlfriend going arm in arm to a Moma private event I wasn’t invited to.  
When I got out of the theatre, it was snowing.
Worst of all, few days afterwards, HBO announced the end of the series In Treatment.
Real life sucks, don’t you think? 

New York City Movie Theatres

Let’s face it: there is no city like Paris, for movie goers.

But besides the place where I live, the other city in the world allowing you to see an old Hollywood picture, a Pasolini movie or a Japanese retrospective at 11 am on a Tuesday morning… definitely IS New York City!
This is why, every time I have the chance to be there, I go to the movies as much as I can. And this is exactly what I did last week: Breakfast at Tiffany’s and movies at will!
But I also walked around to take pictures of my favourite movies theatres. Places where they really care for the pictures they show, places where I feel at home.
I went to the Sunshine Cinema (Lower East Side), an old movie theatre with a great programming and posters of Les Parapluies de Cherbourg by Jacques Demy hanging on its walls. To the lovely Angelika Film Center (near Washington Square), a chain of arty cinemas with different locations in the States (Dallas, Houston, Plano and NY), where I enjoyed a good cup of tea in their beautiful café (if I knew what I was about to see, I would have opted for a glass of whisky, but well…). To the IFC Center, the kingdom of independent cinema in the middle of Greenwich Village, and to the Film Forum (Soho), a place specialised in American independent cinema and foreign art movies (the evidence: they are now showing Le Quattro Volte by Michelangelo Frammartino).
I will write about the movies I have seen in New York in my next posts, but I wanted first to share these places with you.
Because no matter where you are in the world: home is where the movie theatres are!

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Dear Readers,
I feel like having Breakfast at Tiffany's, so I'm leaving for New York.
But I'll be back soon, don't worry!
Love from your Zazie

La Solitudine dei Numeri Primi

Ieri sera, in un cinema del Marais che mi sta molto simpatico, il Nouveau Latina, c’è stata l’anteprima francese (la vera uscita parigina è prevista solo il 4 Maggio) della Solitudine dei Numeri Primi, il film tratto dal best-seller di Paolo Giordano.
Ci sono andata senza particolari aspettative, non avendo mai percepito dai giornali, dalle riviste specializzate o anche solo dal giudizio degli amici italiani (ma forse vivendo qui mi è completamente sfuggito), una parola buona rispetto a quest’opera. 

La trasposizione in immagini di un romanzo come quello di Giordano, in teoria, era pericolosissima: il didascalico, lo stile "film per la TV", gli attori al di sopra delle righe, la regia qualsiasi, erano tutti lì in agguato pronti a mangiarsi il film intero. E infatti temevo, ma mi sbagliavo, perché mi sono trovata davanti un gioiello raro.

La storia è nota. Esseri umani danneggiati e solitari a causa di eventi traumatici che ne hanno segnato l'infanzia (e pure il resto della vita), Mattia e Alice si incontrano quando sono adolescenti e si riconoscono subito: lei zoppica ed è anoressica, lui si autoinfligge ferite su tutto il corpo. Entrambi barcollanti sotto il peso dei rispettivi dolori, segreti, solitudini, famiglie complicate e difficoltà di contatto con il mondo esterno e con i loro coetanei, i due ragazzi cercano l'uno nell'altra, senza mai veramente riuscirci, una via di fuga, una possibile felicità.

Un regista senza palle e senza stile, secondo me, avrebbe fatto così: spiattellamento iniziale dei traumi, in modo che lo spettatore si identifichi tempo zero e pensi "Poverini, con un dramma così alle spalle, per forza sono diventati dei disadattati sociali" e poi via, leggiadro, di sfiga in sfiga, fino all'annientamento finale. Invece Saverio Costanzo sa, eccome se lo sa, quello che vuole, e trasforma questo racconto in una fiaba gotica ed onirica, in un racconto dell'orrore Shining Style, stravolgendo la temporalità e costrigendo lo spettatore a entrare nel film per osmosi, come una malattia che si insinua sotto la pelle. Questo accade sin dalle bellissime scene iniziali, quelle di una innocua recita scolastica che diventa un incubo sonoro (la musica, non a caso, è rubata ad un film di Dario Argento) e visivo (i volti dei bambini, truccati per la rappresentazione, appaiono mostruosi). Ma altrettanto potente è il momento in cui Mattia e Alice si incrociano per la prima volta in un corridoio della scuola: quell'attimo sospeso, il ralenti, lo scatto impercettibile delle testa, il gesto quotidiano in grado di cambiare il percorso di una vita. E ancora, straordinaria, quell'immagine fantastica, irreale, di Mattia e Alice seduti in macchina, mentre fuori piove, poi smette, e ci sono solo le luci della notte, e loro stanno andando ma sono fermi, sospesi, in questo microcosmo dove c'è posto solo per loro due e per il terribile segreto che uno di loro sta per raccontare, ma non ancora.

Questo percorso, questa storia, sarebbero però ben poca cosa senza la bravura degli attori che un direttore casting baciato dal genio ha saputo selezionare: Alba Rohrwacher sta dimostrando, di film in film, di essere la più brava attrice Italiana della sua generazione. Qui, in un numero degno dell'Actor's Studio, si è ridotta pelle e ossa per dare corpo ad un dolore senza voce (di così magro, al cinema, io ricordo solo Michael Fassbender in Hunger di Steve McQueen e Christian Bale in The Machinist di Brad Anderson). Luca Marinelli, al primo (si spera di una lunga serie) film, ha uno sguardo spiritato e la giusta presenza scenica, quella che permette di parlare pochissimo e dire tanto. E una menzione speciale ai giovanissimi attori che hanno interpretato Mattia e Alice da bambini e da adolescenti. Di solito i film italiani sono specializzati nella creazione di piccoli attori-mostri che recitano in maniera del tutto innaturale, qui invece la loro intepretazione ha del miracoloso. Isabella Rossellini è perfetta nella parte della mamma di Mattia (impossibile non pensare all'altro suo bellissimo ruolo di madre in Two Lovers di James Gray) e Filippo Timi, grazie ad una sola scena, riconferma intatto, se mai ce ne fosse bisogno, tutto il suo talento.

Il film, in concorso all'ultimo Festival di Venezia, non ha ricevuto nessun premio. Dalla giuria che ha assegnato il Leone d'Oro al film più inutile, pretenzioso e noioso della storia del cinema (Somewhere della Coppola), non mi aspettavo niente di meglio.
Peccato, perché qui non c'è uno che fa giri a vuoto con la sua Ferrari, qui c'è gente che soffre veramente, e per di più con stile.

  

Il silenzio sul mare

Non è un mistero per nessuno: il Giappone è il mio paese preferito al mondo.
L'anno scorso, più o meno in questo periodo, stavo per partire per Tokyo e Kyoto con il desiderio di realizzare un sogno, quello di vedere con i miei occhi la fioritura dei ciliegi. 
Il sogno è stato subito esaudito, ma non è che fossi stupita: il Giappone mi ha sempre regalato tutto quello che cercavo.  
Per questa ragione, quanto sta succedendo ora è per me assolutamente inconcepibile. Trovo insopportabile questa prova insensata che i miei amici e tutti quanti sono coinvolti devono affrontare e vorrei che una forza sovrumana arrivasse ad alleviare il loro dolore e la loro preoccupazione. 
La situazione è già abbastanza insostenibile così, senza dover stare a sentire gli inevitabili luoghi comuni sui giapponesi di cui i media italiani hanno fatto abbondante uso in questi giorni: dignità non significa indifferenza, compostezza non significa mancanza di emozioni, gentilezza non significa stupidità. Mi rendo conto che per qualcuno questo sia difficile da capire, ma non è certo un problema dei giapponesi. Il giorno in cui si smetterà di accontentarsi dei soliti sentito dire e di fermarsi alla superficie della cose, forse, finalmente, si capirà quanto potremmo imparare (e molto), da un popolo così.
Se qualcuno ha davvero voglia di sentire come si vive in questi giorni a Tokyo, vi suggerisco di leggere il blog del mio amico Flavio, che vive lì da diversi anni:
http://pesceriso.wordpress.com/
A lui, agli altri amici italiani in Giappone, ai miei amici giapponesi e ai giapponesi tutti, vorrei far sapere quanto li stia pensando e quanto infinitamente li ammiri.

Oggi è uno di quei rarissimi giorni in cui persino l'idea di vedere un film non riesce a tirarmi su il morale. Ho però pensato ad un bellissimo film di Takeshi Kitano, A scene at the sea (Il Silenzio sul mare), una storia d'amore tra un ragazzo e una ragazza sordomuti, un film poetico ed essenziale come solo Kitano ne sa fare, e mi sono ricordata di un'immagine.
Quella che ho messo all'inizio del mio post.
Dal mare non viene solo distruzione, è vero, ma adesso è difficile ricordarsene.
Adesso c'è spazio solo per il silenzio.