Film Review: Wanda

  "Wanda" 

  **** (out of ****)

Barbara Loden's "Wanda" (1971) is a sadly forgotten but fascinating portrait of  America, capturing a country at a crossroads by embodying the spirit of the counterculture movement; while also subtly suggesting elements of second-wave feminism.

"Wanda" addresses themes of alienation, class conflict and feminism in such a way that the themes weave together effortlessly. 

The film was Loden's first and only feature-length film, following in the tradition of poetic realism (stylized portrayals of working class life) and Italian neorealism (authentic representations of everyday life). While those movements may seem contradictory their emphasis was to depict real life, stripped of the superficiality of American Hollywood cinema. Some have even compared it to the documentary style movement known as cinema verite.

Released at the beginning of the 1970s, which saw the emergence of a new generation of filmmakers, "Wanda" could be seen as an extension of films like "Easy Rider" (1969), which was emblematic of  "New Hollywood". While both films express the disillusionment of the younger generation, "Wanda" is the more devastating film. Even though "Easy Rider" was an indie film, it was a slick, well produced product with "loud" and iconic moments - the Born to Be Wild sequence - "Wanda" by comparison isn't as flashy. It's quiet. And that quietness gives it more of a punch.  

In modern times however I believe many retroactively interpret the film solely as "feminist", minimalizing the class consciousness by doing so. They also narrow the scope of the alienation and define it as the result of a patriarchal society which undervalues women. This was the opinion of several critics, for example Molly Haskell, who wrote in her seminal book on feminist film theory, From Reverence to Rape, describing female characters in movies like "Wanda" as women "torn between the negative and positive of the feminist consciousness - rage at the old order, hope for the new - have arrived, anesthetized, at an emotional and cultural "stasis", a death."

These interpretations prioritize the fact that the film was directed by a woman and that within itself  was enough for them to claim it as feminist. In this analysis  "Wanda" belongs in a tradition of other female directors such as Chantal Akerman and Agnes Varda. It's not necessarily wrong but limiting and omits too much in order to confine it to a specific political or social agenda - i.e. feminism. I believe its reach is broader in its appeal. "Wanda" doesn't belong in one camp or another, it overlaps. It should be situated alongside the work of Akerman and "Easy Rider". For me "Wanda" isn't exclusively feminist, it is an indictment on the decline of the  American way of life.

The first image in "Wanda"  is of a construction site with a bulldozer shoveling dirt. Then we see a beat up old house. There's an unattended baby crying, while an elderly woman (presumably the child's grandmother) prays and stares out of a window. Seeing these images I thought to myself, this is a movie about people or one particular person "under construction". Someone in need of repair. To be rebuilt from their foundation.

That person is revealed to us as Wanda (Barbara Loden), a young attractive woman who goes through life in a comatose state. She accepts whatever is thrown at her without the slightest protest. Nothing seems to phase her. When she is late for a court hearing, where her husband (Jerome Thier) not only wants a divorce but custody of their children, Wanda hardly says a word. In fact she tells the judge he should grant the divorce and to give her husband the children. They will be better off with him she claims. When she's let go from her job at a sewing factory, she can barely find the strength to deny her boss' claim that she's too slow. 

Within these scenes Loden is making a commentary on two fronts - gender and economy. Wanda's identity is as much tied to her economic status as it is her gender. The landscape is of  Pennsylvania coal country and to put it nicely, it's not flattering. These people are in economic despair. You can feel it in every interaction and conversation Wanda has. This is a reflection of the United States at the time, which was going through a recession in 1970 and high unemployment by 1971. President Nixon even took the U.S. off of the gold standard and this was seen as a contributing factor to a rise in inflation. Retroactive viewers, in my estimation, don't highlight the economic conditions of the 1970s enough in their reviews. For example, "Wanda" is part of the Criterion Collection and comes with an essay written by the critic Amy Taubin - who is a fine critic and I don't mean to criticize - but all Taubin does in her essay is provide biographical information on Loden, production details and firmly situates the film as an example of feminist filmmaking. This kind of thinking not only flattens the discussion and limits the nuance of the relationship between gender and economics, it also diminishes and ignores the historical context of the film.

And if we look at the economy from a women's perspective there were additional hurdles. In the early 70s women faced a lot of discrimination. Before 1974 it was difficult for a single woman to open a bank account or get credit without a male co-signer. In some cases even a married woman might not be able to open an account without her husband's permission. So not only are economic times hard but as a woman you lack further individuality and financial independence. This is why historical context is needed. Art often responds to its political and social conditions. If you are retroactively reviewing a film or any piece of art, helping an audience understand the social conditions in which it was made, helps us see deeper into the work and what it was a reaction to. Art doesn't exist in a vacuum. 

But even for a 1970s audience, for whom all of of this social climate was a daily reality, it is easy to imagine them scratching their heads and sit in indifference while watching the opening moments of "Wanda". The majority of the actors are not professionals. Their dialogue isn't polished. The characters speak slowly. And most off-putting for a mainstream audience, is that it doesn't appear to have a strong narrative plot. Nothing seems to be pushing this movie forward. Perhaps understanding an audience demands some kind of narrative, Loden switches gears from the mood and flavor of the town to a crime story. Wanda, unknowingly, becomes involved with a burglar, Dennis (Michael Higgins). He was robbing a bar when Wanda walked in to use the restroom. Oblivious to her surroundings, Wanda leaves the bar with Dennis, spends the night with him, and drives out of state with him. Eventually she discovers who Dennis is and what he has done but makes the decision to stick with him.

When "Wanda" was initially released in 1971, the critic for the New York Times described the film as a "crime melodrama" and not a character study. "Wanda" defies genre expectations. This isn't a crime picture in the same sense "Bonnie and Clyde" (1967) was a couple of years earlier. And even in that film's case, we can make the argument that it is more than a film about bank robbers. It is when Wanda meets Dennis that feminism becomes more prominent within the story. Wanda has no identity and latches on to the men in her life, allowing them to define her. Dennis is a textbook chauvinist. He slaps Wanda around and wants her to dress a certain way. In one scene Dennis confronts Wanda and informs her that she is not to wear slacks only dresses. Wanda adheres to these requirements and conforms. Why? Because in Wanda's mind, there is no path forward for her. She wouldn't know where to begin. Most people, upon hearing they are with a thief, would want to escape. Not Wanda. She's even given an opportunity to do so and in that crucial moment, declines the chance. What Wanda seeks is a man's validation. Which is clearly a concept society has ingrained in her. It makes for a "touching" moment later in the film between Dennis and Wanda when finally a kind word is spoken by him.

And despite the despicable behavior of Dennis, Loden and "Wanda" take the time to create a dual characterization. There is a contrast between how Dennis treats Wanda and how he treats his father. While a viewer's instinct may not grant any generosity towards the character, Dennis is also a victim of society. Why is he robbing bars and banks? Those aren't the actions of a person who believes he has a lot of options before him. A very generous and sympathetic reading of Dennis could assume the reason he wants Wanda by his side is for sincere companionship but he doesn't know how to express himself or allow himself to be emotionally vulnerable. If you accept that interpretation it then creates a contrast between Dennis and Wanda. She is nothing but vulnerable yet doesn't express her true feelings.

To be emotionally closed off and vulnerable is what gives "Wanda" its powerful ending. Just as there is a dichotomy presented in Dennis, Wanda exhibits her own duality in the film's final scene. We must question, is Wanda back to where she started? Is she mourning? Has she grown and finds that frightening? Just before the film's final image, Wanda finds herself with another man and for the first time, she resists his actions. She will not allow him to take advantage of her. Will she continue to drift? Is it any coincidence the name Wanda sounds close to wander? It is this ambiguity that I personally like. 

Prior to directing "Wanda", Loden was an actress, appearing on television with the great Ernie Kovacs. On the Kovacs show she was part of the famed Nairobi Trio - a trio of gorillas playing the tune Solfeggio - as the group's pianist. Additionally she appeared in feature films - "Wild River" (1960) and "Splendor in the Grass" (1961) - both directed by the man she would eventually marry, Elia Kazan. It has been well documented, in Kazan's own autobiography as an example, that there was an uncomfortable power dynamic at play between the two, with Kazan wanting to dominate Loden. It would explain a lot of what we see in "Wanda" and Loden's presentation of the character. 

In an interview with talk show host Dick Cavett, Loden appeared as a guest to promote "Wanda" and confessed she was very much like the lead character, a woman who was aimless in life and needed to be told what to do. It reminded me of an image in the film that perfectly symbolizes the character's dilemma - Wanda looking at her reflection in a broken mirror. Like the mirror itself, Wanda is shattered. 

Cavett, in the same interview, was almost trying to coax Loden into making a feminist statement about the difficulties of filmmaking and raising money. Loden wouldn't take the bait and said her difficulties were no different than what anyone else goes through to raise funds. But she did say something I find interesting that historically ties her into a certain film lineage. Loden said her small three person film crew approach to "Wanda" was like going back to the early days of cinema and just pointing a camera at people. The idea of that invokes the Lumiere Brothers and their actualities but it also speaks to a different lineage, which feminist would whole heartedly approve. Loden is like Alice Guy-Blache or Lois Weber, female filmmakers using the female experience to show the world what their lives are like and how they interpret the world. The best of their films also show us how their experience connects to the larger issues in society.

When "Wanda" was released it was at best a modest success in the United States. It gained greater acclaim overseas, even winning an award at the Venice Film Festival. It never found a real footing in the U.S. as part of the cultural temperament in film at the time. Maybe it was too low key. Too subtle in its commentary. Or simply not deemed significant enough by critics to bother analyzing it. New Yorker critic Pauline Kael called the film "drab". Judith Crist, maybe the most powerful critic at the time, wasn't too kind to the film either. It was only after many years that the film would begin to be spoken about with true admiration.

Whatever the reason was after "Wanda" Loden never directed a feature-length film again but did direct an educational short called "The Frontier Experience" (1975) which is included as a bonus feature on Criterion's DVD. Loden should have been a respected filmmaker and social critic. Cinema and art can only thrive when artists like Loden are given a voice and an opportunity. Could Kazan have shortened her career, as some have suggested over the years? Kazan even tried to take credit for "Wanda".

Unfortunately Loden, a North Carolina native, died at the age of 48 in 1980 after a two year battle with breast cancer. It is said Loden had several unproduced completed scripts and had plans to work on a play and direct a film adaptation of the novel "The Awakening". 

"Wanda" belongs on a short list among the best films of the 1970s. It captures the anxiety and alienation of a decade and serves as a time capsule representing a very important period in modern  American history. It is a remarkable film.

Film Review: Taste of Cherry

 "Taste of Cherry"

 *** 1\2 (out of ****)

"The hour  of our  departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I  to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows."
                                                         Socrates

Soil. From it comes life and to it we return in death. You'll see a lot of soil and dirt in "Taste of Cherry" (1998), the Iranian Palme d' Or winner from Abbas Kiarostami. It's a constant reminder that life and death are always around us.

The film has a simple plot, a man, Mr. Badii (Homayoun Ershadi, who sadly passed away last November) drives around Tehran looking for someone to assist in his potential suicide. He will pay a large sum of money to someone if they will arrive at a designated location and either rescue him from a hole in the ground or bury him.

Most critics that have reviewed this film took everything literal. For example, critic Peter Bradshaw reviewed the film in 2012 for The Guardian and spent an inordinate amount of time writing about suicide and its implications in Iran. Despite its subject matter "Taste of Cherry" is not about death or suicide. The film is about life. It is not a sad or depressing film with a character agonizing about the difficulties of their life. Chicago Sun-Times critic Roger Ebert famously disliked Kiarostami's films - referring to "Taste of Cherry" as "excruciatingly boring" in his review - and would often only describe the surface level actions taking place, ignoring any possible symbolic meaning. "Taste of Cherry" is a film meant to be interpreted and not watched indifferently.

From its description, "Taste of Cherry" is the kind of movie that many will say is one where nothing happens. All we do is see a man in his car, driving around town. That is true, in a sense, but Kiarostami brings an entire world to us inside of that car. We view a clash of different economic statuses, religious beliefs, and age. And each person that Mr. Badii encounters represents a diverse opinion on life and death.

Because cinema abides by the rule of three, the film is comprised of three long conversations / arguments that Mr. Badii has after he asks the individuals to carry out his request. The first man we see is a young Kurdish solider (Safar Ali Moradi) who is looking for a ride back to his barracks. Mr. Badii agrees to give the man a lift and quickly determines he could be a potential candidate. This is primarily based on the fact that the young solider is Kurdish and comes from a working class family. Mr. Badii has assessed it will take a poor person to perform his task. The opening sequence of the film has him driving passed unemployed laborers. 

This touches on another important theme in the film; class distinction. Mr. Badii is incredibly forceful when trying to persuade the young solider to take the job. When the solider asks what exactly the job is, Mr. Badii tells him not to worry about it but to instead concern himself with the money he will make. This is the condescending nature of those with money and how they view those that don't have any. It implies the poor have loose morals and should be willing to do anything for money.  After all, what other choice do they have? It is also a defense mechanism on Mr. Badii's part since he knows he is asking the young man to do something highly questionable.

It is interesting how Kiarostami visualizes this tension between the two men. Kiarostami filmed the men separately, meaning they were never together for their scenes. All of the shots in the car are medium close-ups. This creates a claustrophobic feeling and the illusion of both men being trapped together. We can sense the soldier's uneasiness while also hearing the desperation in Mr. Badii's voice.

In addition to the lure of money, Mr. Badii changes tactics and tries to make an emotional plea to the boy by referencing the hardships he and his family must have endured as Kurds in Iraq, who have now migrated to Iran. It is meant to invoke a time in the early 1990s when millions of Kurds did leave Iraq after the Gulf War and a failed uprising against Saddam Hussein. This becomes something we hear again and again throughout the film - the hardships others have endured and yet those people continued to go on living, contrasting their desire to live against Mr. Badii.

We see a similar situation occur with the second passenger in the vehicle, an Afghani migrant (Mir Hossein Noori) studying at a seminary. As with Iraq, Afghanistan also dealt with war in the 1990s, following the departure of the Soviets. By 1996 the Taliban was on the rise and had seized control of Kabul. It is said millions of Afghanis had headed for Iran during this period. Again, even though they had faced such enormous calimity, they continued to embrace life.

Please note this information regarding wars is not needed to follow the film's plot or to appreciate it. I only provide it for historical context, to properly situate the time period in which the film was made. 

What becomes interesting about the conversation with the seminarist is the same visual techniques used previously now make a different impression. No longer do we feel a sense of friction and claustrophobia because Mr. Badii has changed his approach somewhat and is only occasionally passive aggressive this time. With the solider, Mr. Badii tried to leverage him with money but that won't work this time around. To solicit the help of the seminarist Mr. Badii will make an emotional plea by seemingly having a heart-to-heart discussion. This time around we are having a religious debate that almost feels like a confessional. The switching between the medium shots of the characters serves as a confession partition. But when the seminarist objects, mentioning that the Koran says suicide is a sin, Mr. Badii tries to undermine his authority. He doesn't need a lecture. He could have spoken to someone that has finished their studies for that. 

To counter these two conversations, Kiarostami creates a nice contrast when Mr. Badii gets his vehicle stuck while driving along a dirt road. There are workers nearby who immediately come to Mr. Badii's rescue and help lift his vehicle out of a ditch. In this situation Mr. Badii doesn't need to ask anyone for help, the people instinctively come to assist. When a person feels they are doing something positive, they will help. As opposed to the favor Mr. Badii is asking, where he is being refused. 

A desire to help brings us to the third and final passenger, a Turkish migrant, Mr. Bagheri (Abdolhosein Bagheri). For the first time, Mr. Badii is silent and it is the passenger that does all of the talking. Mr. Bagheri morally disagrees with Mr. Badii's decision to commit suicide. Although Mr. Bagheri says he will agree to help, he does try to talk Mr. Badii out of it. Kiarostami makes the contradiction between Mr. Bagheri and Mr. Badii unmistakable. When Mr. Badii spoke to the seminarist it was a performative empathy, with Mr. Bagheri we see true sincerity. 

There is a brief line of dialogue that for me reflects the film's stance on the matter of life and death. Mr. Bagheri tells Mr. Badii to make a turn, taking him off of his usual path. Mr. Badii says he doesn't know this road but Mr. Bagheri reassures him that he is familiar with it. It will however result in a longer ride but it is a better and more beautiful road. That is what life is. A series a roads or paths we chose to take. Some are more beautiful than others. It all comes down to perspective. The Kurds and the Afghanis, for example, chose a different path. They left their countries. As Mr. Bagheri says, if every person reacted to every tiny problem the way Mr. Badii is, there would be no one left on earth.

I won't deny you the pleasures of hearing Mr. Bagheri's ode to life but will say the tone of the conversation is radically different than the previous two. If the Kurdish solider represented a fear of death and the seminarist was moral / religious responsibility then Mr. Bagheri appeals to our senses. This is not a philosophical debate. The simple joys of life are the thrust of Mr. Bagheri's argument. This is how the film gets its title. And it is from this discussion we notice a possible change in Mr. Badii's behavior. While he is preoccupied with death and driving around, he is ignoring all of the life around him - the trees, the sun, and yes the soil.

You may wonder about all of those shots of dirt roads, barren landscapes and construction sites but Kiarostami finds the beauty of life in them. While you can interpret all of it as a reflection of Mr. Badii's loneliness also notice the contrast between the dirt roads and construction equipment with the images of the city. The city equals life whereas the barren land signifies death but from that land emerges a city where homes and stores will be built. It all represents a circle of life.

Since some critics interpreted the film as a commentary on suicide, and given that the Iranian government forbids this act, they therefore thought this was a political film. Back in 1997, when the film was released in Iran, Mohammad Khatami had become president. He wanted better relations with the West. I personally don't see much of an emphasis in the film on this topic but should point out, it did not go unnoticed by me that the vehicle Mr. Badii drives is a Land Rover and in one scene there is a man wearing a shirt with U.C.L.A  written on it. When Mr. Badii comments on it and asks the man if he knows what the shirt means, he nods in the negative. Finally, the film closes with a piece of jazz music, the song St. James Infirmary. Which is of course a song about death and the remembrance of a loved one.

Another thing that did not go unnoticed by me was the absence of women in the film. Kiarostami doesn't treat this as one of the themes of the film nor has this topic been brought up in the majority of film criticism written on the film. While there is no commentary in the film on role women play in Iran, their absence is within itself a commentary on how they are treated in Iranian culture. This then becomes more of a political / social issue rather than a thematic component of "Taste of Cherry", which explains why other critics avoided mentioning the issue at all. The only woman who appears in this film is at the end. She asks Mr. Badii to take her photo with someone who is possibly her husband. Kiarostami would make a more explicit commentary on this subject in his later film, "Ten" (2002). 

Many critics expressed dissatisfaction with not knowing why Mr. Badii wants to commit suicide. It doesn't actually matter. It is all a pretext to engage in the grander discussion on life and death. Mr. Badii's quest for assistance is plot mechanics and not the emphasis of the story. To worry about his ailment is to distract yourself from the charms of the film and its philosophy.

The other major criticism thrown at the film had to do with its epilogue, which I will not go into much detail over. It is meant to serve as a reminder on the relationship between life and art. Roger Ebert called it a "distancing strategy" that was not needed. Another critic, Jonathan Rosenbaum of the Chicago Reader, called it a "joyful finale" in his review, commenting on how this ending liberates us from "the oppressive solitude and darkness of Badii" with familiar images we have seen throughout the film. I am in the Rosenbaum camp - unusual for me - on this issue.

If I had to pick out one thing about the film I disliked, it has to do with the editing. When Mr. Badii and Mr. Bagheri are having their conversation, based on the dialogue it appears as if it is a continuation of a previous discussion. Mr. Badii is asking for assurances from Mr. Bagheri but we never see them meet. It's hard to believe Kiarostami edited down their meeting. It is the only flaw with the film that I have.

The minimalist, documentary style Kiarostami used in this film became something he was identified with and criticized for. It blurred the lines between fact and fiction but allowed him to explore the humanity that can be found after tragedy. Great examples of this can be found in "And Life Goes On", (1992) and "The Wind Will Carry Us" (2000). "Taste of Cherry" is a natural extension of it.

"Taste of Cherry" was not typical of modern Iranian cinema from other filmmakers - Majid Majidi and Jafar Panahi among them. It was made in a style of filmmaking closer to Italian Neorealism - using non professional actors (with the exception of Homayoun Ershadi), real locations and natural lighting - and is why the Chicago Tribune movie critic Michael Wilmington once referred to Kiarostami as the "natural heir" of the movement.

Although the cinema of  Abbas Kiarostami had divided critics and audiences alike, "Taste of Cherry" did receive much acclaim. In addition to the Palme d'Or prize it shared at Cannes - it tied with Shohei Imamura's wonderful "The Eel" (1998) - it was also considered one of the best films of the year by critics like Jonathan Rosenbaum, Godfrey Cheshire (New York Press) and Michael  Wilmington. Stephen Holden praised it in his New York Times review, writing, "Kiarostami, like no other filmmaker, has a vision of human scale that is simultaneously epic and precisely minuscule." Dave Kehr, in his New York Daily News review called it  "stunning" and "powerfully affirmative", awarding it four stars.

For my own part I will never forget the first time I saw "Taste of Cherry" and "The Wind Will Carry Us". Decades later my mind goes back to them and I recall the mood they put me in and although some my consider the visuals dull, certain images have always stayed in my mind. Mr. Badii's face has never left me as well as those winding roads and I even hear Mr. Bagheri's voice now and then. A few years ago I had a year long theme on the blog called Was I Right?, where I looked at past top ten choices to decide if I was right to chose them. I didn't select "Taste of Cherry" on my top ten list in 1998, that was a mistake which I will rectify.

"Taste of Cherry" is one of Kiarostami's masterpieces. A philosophical film that celebrates life. It is a reminder that sadness and joy and life and death are always around us. Our lives are comprised of which roads we choose to travel on. Sometimes that road may be longer than expected but it will be more beautiful and from there we can stop to taste the cherries.

Film Review: Lost in Translation

  "Lost in Translation"

  *** 1\2 (out of ****)

The very first time we see Bill Murray - we haven't learned his character's name yet - he is in the backseat of a car. His eyes are closed as his head rests against the window. He opens his eyes open and looks out at his surroundings. He is in Tokyo. From his sleep he woke up on another continent, in another country and in a different city. Nothing is written in English on the billboards nor store fronts he passes by. He is literally in a world he does not understand.

That's how director Sofia Coppola begins her story in "Lost in Translation" (2003) but look at what she continues to do. The first 15 minutes of the film are episodic. It seems as if nothing is happening to drive the film forward. Murray, who by now we have learned is Bob Harris, a famous movie star, walks into a hotel and is greeted by the staff. He sits in his hotel room, goes to the hotel's bar / restaurant, and back to his room. Coppola and her cinematographer Lance Acord use a combination of long and extreme long shots. This emphasizes Bob's surroundings and his relationship to his environment. He is only a small piece in the world around him. Coppola may not be saying much at first glance but she is setting the scene for a story about loneliness, isolation, and lack of communication. Her decisions signal that this will be a film about mood and tone rather than loud actions. 

Coppola maintains that atmosphere while introducing us to Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson), a young American woman in Tokyo with her photographer husband, John (Giovanni Ribisi), by using the same techniques. Coppola however adds a reoccurring visual of Charlotte sitting by her hotel window sill staring out at the city. It's a more poetic aesthetic to invoke the same detachment we sense in Bob. 

Both of these characters happen to be staying at the same hotel and eventually spot each other. They engage in slightly awkward small talk and because audiences have been trained by movie conventions we assume Bob and Charlotte will begin a romance. Is Bob attracted to Charlotte? Could be. She's an appealing young woman. Does Charlotte find Bob handsome? I don't think so and never picked up on any flirtation. These however are the wrong questions to ask. "Lost in Translation" is not about an affair between two people or romance. It is about something equally as vulnerable; friendship and intimacy.

Intimacy doesn't necessarily mean romanticized love, intimacy can be an intellectual or emotional bond. That is what these characters crave and yet are incapable of - translating their feelings and creating a connection. Coppola immediately suggests a "veil of intimacy" from the film's opening shot of a woman's (Johansson) backside, as she lays on a bed wearing sheer panties. It's a provocative image but not one I interpreted as blatantly sexual. The buttocks aren't exposed, they are hinted at, thus implying a veil. It's masking something more than eroticism. How one interprets this scene will set the tone for their expectations of what follows. 

For example critic  Armond White addressed the opening shot in his New York Press review with a sense of bewilderment, "The three title words slowly materialize beneath a shot of a young woman's ass sheathed in pink pantyhose. Stuff magazine couldn't have asked for more." White went on to add, "Perhaps director-writer Sofia Coppola is shrewd enough to know that this is exactly the trendy stuff that garners one hype as an "original" film artist". Finally White concludes with "Whatever. It's ambiguous, thus "cool."" By missing any emotional commentary Coppola could be suggesting, White then proceeded to blast the film. Others might find the shot sexy and these viewers will be let down when no other sexy things happen. Stephanie Zacharek, writing for Salon hits on something truer to the film's spirit calling it, "a love story but not a romance."

And "love story" doesn't mean "Lost in Translation" is about unrequited love either. There is a quiet moment in the film which may go unnoticed to some. Bob and Charlotte have spent a night out together with some people Charlotte knows. On a taxi ride back to their hotel, Charlotte falls asleep and Bob carries her to her room and tucks her into bed. The next scene is of  Bob on  a phone call with his wife. This is the first time we have seen Bob speak to her. Prior in the film she has communicated with Bob via fax and Fed-Ex. Shaming him for not telling their son happy birthday before leaving or asking for his opinion on carpet samples. But after spending a night out with Charlotte, Bob feels lonely and calls his wife, hoping for a connection. He was on an emotional high when interacting with Charlotte and her friends but with her sleeping, he wants to continue the feeling. Unfortunately, with the time difference, his wife is in the middle of trying to send their kids off  to school and doesn't have time to chit-chat. Bob can't fully communicate his feelings of vulnerability to his wife. When he utters the words "I love you", she has already hung up. Missed communication. Others could assume he called his wife because of a guilty conscience for spending the night out with Charlotte, despite the viewer not seeing anything to invoke such a strong defense mechanism in Bob. To me it is loneliness that led to that call not a feeling of betrayal.

Compare Bob's telephone conversation to one Charlotte has. After being left alone by her husband, Charlotte attempts to explore the city. She finds herself at a Buddhist Temple and looks on with a blank expression. In the following scene she is back at her hotel room, crying while on the phone. She has called a friend, possibly her mother, though she refers to the person by their first name. She wants to explain the experience of seeing the Monks however the person puts her on a brief hold. It is just long enough for Charlotte to regain her composure and hide her feelings. When the voice comes back on the phone and asks Charlotte to repeat what she was saying, Charlotte responds by saying it wasn't important and hangs up. In both scenarios with Bob and Charlotte neither person could be honest about why they were reaching out to someone. 

This explains why there is so much awkwardness in the dialogue between Bob and Charlotte. Their long pauses could be considered "sexual tension", as some critics have called it, but that kind of chemistry was not palpable on-screen to me. If these characters were talkative to everyone else around them except each other, that would be a different story. Their long pauses do signal something unspoken and that may not be a burning desire for one another. It is more likely a burning desire to be natural. Natural in their own skin and within their environment. When "Lost in Translation" was initially released, the critics and the public made much of a whisper at the end of the film between these characters. What did they say? Could it be a key to understand or confirm a suspicion the audience may have had? It doesn't matter. Look at what you see in that scene instead. Whatever message Bob tells Charlotte, he has to whisper it. He can't speak it freely for others to hear. That's how emotionally closed off these people are. Their feelings cannot be declared, they must be whispered. This action tells us just as much as whatever message might have been exchanged.

Throughout the film Coppola compares and contrasts Bob and Charlotte - their differences in age, gender, professions and marriages. Bob has been married for twenty-five years and Charlotte for two but whether it is twenty-five years or two it doesn't matter. Both marriages lack communication. When Bob was on the phone with his wife, they discussed mundane things, the kind of every day occurrences most married people discuss. On the other hand there is rarely a scene between  John and Charlotte when he is not half way out the door, telling Charlotte he loves her. These two barely speak to each other.

The most animated we ever  see John is  when he runs into an  American actress, Kelly (Anna Faris) also staying at the hotel. She shouts out how much she loves the way John shoots her. John is enraptured by her energy and for a brief moment Charlotte seems to be the third wheel in the conversation. Kelly is the flip side of the coin. If Bob and Charlotte have nothing to say, Kelly speaks a lot but its all meaningless. She is fun but shallow. Everything feels performative with Kelly, even when she seems to be sharing vulnerable stories about her father. Bob, Kelly, Charlotte and even John are all vessels looking for ways  to express themselves but they all resist the honest path forward.

Ask yourself, how honest are Bob and Charlotte being when it is discovered Bob slept with a woman in his hotel room? Charlotte doesn't see the woman when she knocks on Bob's door to ask him out for sushi but does hear her voice. Charlotte walks away quietly shaken. Bob eventually makes his way to the restaurant. There is an unspoken friction between them. It goes beyond their usual awkwardness. Charlotte, I suspect, is hurt by Bob's actions. Not because she wanted to be the one in his bed but because he found someone else to share a private moment  with. Was it just sex or did it go deeper? Charlotte could potentially be alone again. Bob seems to regret his actions as soon as he wakes up. Is he thinking about his wife at that moment or Charlotte? It is easy to interpret Charlotte's response as heartache but I think it is disappointment. Bob is embarrassed by his lapse in judgement and being discovered. But neither says what they are truly feeling in that instant.

Coppola is also very subtle in her commentary on the film industry, celebrity and overseas markets. Notice the distinction between Kelly and Bob. There was once a time top list actors didn't commonly appear in commercials. It would signal the end of a career. Actors would go overseas to capitalize on their fame and appear in commercials American consumers would never see. Bob is in Tokyo to do a whiskey commercial. He is ashamed of it. Kelly is in Tokyo to promote her new film. She is happy to be there because the overseas market is important to the film industry. Kelly and Bob are at opposite ends. A lot of critics ignored this aspect of the film, focusing instead on Charlotte and Bob's  "romance" but there is something interesting in the background being said through the Kelly and Bob characters. 

"Lost in Translation" was a continuation of themes presented in Sofia Coppola's directorial debut film, "The Virgin Suicides" (1999). Although "Suicides" was a well made film which highlighted Coppola's craft, "Lost in Translation" saw the growth of an artist. "Translation" and "Suicides" and all subsequent films Coppola has directed address themes of loneliness, isolation and celebrity. My personal favorite Coppola film is "The Bling Ring" (2013), an absolute indictment of celebrity obsessed culture. But "Translation" seems to be the one critics gravitated the most to. Coppola received  Academy Award nominations for best original screenplay - which she won - and best director. With the director nomination, Coppola became the third women ever nominated in the category and the first  American woman. Prior nominees were Lina Wertmuller and Jane Campion. The film also won a best picture nomination.

I think a lot of critics and the public misread / misinterpreted this film and much of that had to do with the age difference between the characters and the idea that this was a "romantic comedy". What exactly was "romantic" about this movie - the loneliness, the isolation or the miscommunication?  As such Coppola's next films would firmly address the age issue - which lets be honest, bothers many in the public - and repackaged it as a father / daughter dynamic - "Somewhere" (2010) and "On the Rocks" (2020). Interestingly, neither of those became the cultural phenomenon "Translation" achieved. 

In addition to the acclaim Sofia Coppola received, "Lost in Translation" was viewed as a triumph for Bill Murray - he received his sole best actor Oscar nomination. In Chicago Sun-Times movie critic, Roger Ebert's Great Movie review, Ebert begins by praising Murray, stating the actor gives "one of the most exquisitely controlled performances in recent movies. Without it, the film could be unwatchable. With it, I can't take my eyes away." Murray is very good in the film. It is now difficult to think of another actor in the role. I enjoyed how Coppola restrained Murray. The performance is filled with anxiety and unease, which have always been traits in any number of  Murray's performances. Those qualities would reveal themselves verbally though through wise-cracks and sarcastic remarks. Here is it all kept inside and reveals itself through quiet gestures. In one scene Bob is sitting at the bar and two men recognize him and want to chat. He is immediately uncomfortable. He gives the men a knowing nod, gets up and leaves. Slow deliberate movements done with purpose. We know what Bob is feeling in that moment. That's good acting, visualizing the internal.

Scarlett Johansson on the other hand, didn't receive as much praise from the critics despite the fact she is mostly doing the same things Murray's performance is. The key difference is Murray gets to add humor to his performance. Johansson's character is always in a state of detachment. That makes it harder for an audience to connect with. It doesn't feel as versatile which limits its appeal. 

That leads me to view Coppola and "Lost in Translation" as part of a European tradition. There are a few moments when Bob and Charlotte watch movies on TV and more often than not it is foreign films playing, such as Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" (1960), which just so happen to also be about celebrity. It's not however Fellini that comes to my mind while watching "Translation", it is instead another gifted Italian filmmaker, Michelangelo Antonioni, who often made films around themes of alienation. Like Antonioni's films, "Lost in Translation" is something you "experience" as much as you "watch" it. The mood and tones of the film are what carry you away, if you are on the film's same rhythm. It's not unlike how Sofia's father, Francis Ford Coppola was clearly inspired by "Blow-Up" (1967) when making "The Conversation" (1974). 

"Lost in Translation" received a total of four  Academy Award nominations and won three Golden Globes - best picture (musical or comedy), best actor (Murray) and best screenplay (Coppola). It was named by several critics as one of the best films of 2003 - Roger Ebert, Richard Roeper, Andrew Sarris, Stephen Holden and Stephanie Zacharek among them, making it the most critically successful film in Coppola's career, so far. This is a slow, deliberate film that does a lot quietly, if you can translate it.

Film Review: 13 Conversations About One Thing

  "13 Conversations About One Thing"

 **** (out of ****)

Jill Sprecher's  "13 Conversations  About One Thing" isn't exactly about one thing but rather is an exploration into themes of happiness, chance and morality in an immediate post 9/11 America.

It's tempting to compare Sprecher's film to the work of Robert  Altman. "13 Conversations" is a sprawling film featuring a large cast  with interconnecting storylines but unlike an  Altman film - "Short Cuts" (1993) for example - "13 Conversations" doesn't feel improvised or free flowing. Instead this is a tightly structured film that is philosophical in its method. The Altman comparison merely elevates the talent of Sprecher to signify what an achievement her sophomore feature-length effort is. There is no denying "13 Conversations" is a masterpiece and the work of a brilliant filmmaker. I was so captivated by this film back in 2002 that I placed it on my year end top ten list, in the number two spot. 

A lot of critics leaned a little too far on the happiness leitmotif, like Chicago Sun-Times movie critic Roger Ebert, who began his review with "Happiness is the subject of  "13 Conversations About One Thing". For that matter, happiness is the subject of every conversation we ever have: the search for happiness, the envy of happiness, the loss of happiness, the guilt of happiness." "13 Conversations" is a little wider in its scope asking multiple questions - what is the meaning of life? Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? What role does happenstance and chance play in our lives? Sprecher is able to probe the answers to these questions by orchestrating a delicate mixture between hard hitting emotional drama and something not quite whimsical but light hearted. In tone it recalls not  Altman but is closer to Woody Allen, who has explored the importance of fate and chance in our lives in films such as  "Match Point" (2005) and "You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger" (2010).

"13 Conversations" doesn't have a "lead" character but if one character could be considered the "anchor" of the film it would be Gene (Alan Arkin), an insurance claims manager. Gene is presented as an everyman who has his share of problems - he's divorced, his son is a drug addict, he's getting pressure from upper management over budget concerns - and yet he is surrounded by people that have good fortune falling into their lap. When will it be his turn? What makes these people more deserving than him? Sprecher, and I am sure with input from Arkin, treat these scenes with a wry smile instead of going full on Book of Job. Arkin, a Chicago Second City alumni, who built a persona on dry humor, knew how to find the understated humor in frustration and exasperation.

Gene and his coworkers have branded a fellow employee, Bowman as  "Smiley" (William Wise). Bowman is a middle-aged, slightly overweight but jovial guy, who is always praising his wife and kids by spreading news of their good fortune. He isn't doing it in a malicious way or trying to rub his good luck into anyone's face, he's just a proud and happy father. But if you're a guy like Gene and his coworkers, a sunny disposition can become irritating. Gene can't understand how a guy can be so happy? It must be a façade. This is the same kind of illogical thinking that leads some to wonder if a person can be "too nice". Gene however thinks he knows of a way to wipe that smile off of Bowman's face.

Sprecher takes this amusing tale and contrasts it with something more Dostoevskian, the story of a young and successful lawyer named Troy (Matthew McConaughey). As the Gods would have it, one day Troy meets Gene at a bar. Troy is riding high after winning a case, which he enthusiastically declares there being one less bad guy on the streets. Gene congratulates him on his good luck but the hot shot lawyer doesn't believe in luck. It was his hard work that paid off because you see, the law holds everyone accountable. Everyone that is, except Troy. Later that night, while driving home, he strikes a pedestrian and leaves the scene without notifying the police. Will an overwhelming sense of guilt and morality be Troy's downfall? Can he get away with murder?

These two characters are the heart and soul of the film for me. The other characters are extensions of their dilemmas. Take for example a married professor, Walker (John Turturro), who flat out confesses that he doesn't know what he wants out of life. He initially says he wants to be happy but how does one achieve happiness? Is it by cheating on his wife (Amy Irving)? That eventually doesn't bring him the joy and meaning he was looking for. It is quite possible Walker wouldn't know happiness even if he experienced it, because he doesn't know what it feels like to begin with. He is what is known as a "lost soul", a person on an endless journey, who mistakes "contentment" for "boredom". 

Then there is Beatrice (Clea DuVall), a young woman who had a near death experience as a child, and since then has not only looked on the bright side of things but has sought the deeper spiritual meaning behind our lives. In one scene we see her sing with a choir at church. But like the lawyer, she will be tested. How strong are her beliefs?

Some of these stories end sadly while others appear unresolved, however it is the film's final moment which makes its greatest commentary: all any of us want is to be seen. No matter how good or bad our luck may seem, no matter how overwhelming the obstacles thrown at us may be, there is comfort in knowing we are not invisible in this world. All that is required is something as simple as waving at a stranger, a brief moment of human connection.

Moments like the ending are balanced against scenes between Walker and one of his students - a class clown who eventually worries about his grades and getting into med school. The student is the mirror image of Walker. When the young man relays a list of personal problems he is going through, Walker is blinded by his own troubles and an inability to relate to others - his wife, his mistress and his students. He is not there to provided that much needed moment of human interaction.

It was a feeling of invisibility and great pain that lead Jill Sprecher to co-write this screenplay with her sister, Karen and direct the film. While living in New York, Sprecher faced many difficult moments such as being mugged twice - one of the incidents actually required surgery - and once hit on the subway. It was while on that same subway train a stranger smiled at her. Within that brief moment Sprecher felt consoled to know there were still nice people in the world.

For a lot of movie critics "13 Conversations" lacks a visual flair and a feeling of importance - one critic called it "a dry, dim looking film". This kind of thinking blatantly misses the point of the film. Technically dazzling it is not but "13 Conversation" is richly conceived and full of ideas. Sprecher's background as a philosophy and literature major is evident in the film's structure. Like a novel the film has intertitles which serve as chapters, and each chapter centers around a character and concept.

This does not mean there aren't some good visuals or Sprecher doesn't know how to convey themes with her camera. My favorite involves a moment when Walker is explaining entropy - as good a word as any to describe this film - to his class and writes the word "irreversible" on a chalkboard but later the word is erased. Nothing is permanent or irreversible and it becomes a lesson these characters learn, the value of your life is based on perspective. Your path in life is not irreversible, a simple gesturing like waving at a stranger, could potentially set you off in a new direction.

Perspective is also something implied in the film's title. The number 13 is considered unlucky in many cultures, especially in America - Friday the 13th - but positive in others, like Italy for example. In an interview with MovieMaker magazine,  Sprecher admits the decision to add 13 in the title was a deliberate choice made by her and her sister, which would allow audiences to decide if 13 was positive or negative. This was something I didn't come across in any movie reviews I read. No one took time to question why the number 13 was selected and its implications.

Sprecher also knows how to visualize isolation and separating characters from their environment, as in the insurance claim office scenes by routinely having her camera shoot frames within a frame as Gene looks out at his co-workers while in his own office. "13 Conversations" also utilizes different colors to reflect character's moods and inner emotions - neutral for Gene, blue for Troy, golden hues for Beatrice...etc.  It lacks the excitement of the French New Wave - handheld camera and jump cuts - but Sprecher's approach gets the film's themes across and puts us in a proper state of mind to psychologically understand her characters.

There is some gratification in knowing others saw the craft in "13 Conversations". Arkin's performance was singled out in many reviews. He won nominations from many film critic society awards for supporting actor. Both he and Sprecher's screenplay were nominated for an Independent Spirit Award. It was even listed as one of the year's best films by the National Board of Review and critic Roger Ebert. And yet that makes it all the maddening to realize Sprecher's career was cut short afterwards.

"13 Conversations" was Sprecher's follow-up film to "Clockwatchers" (1997), a generally well received effort about female office temp workers. "13 Conversations" was a more ambitious undertaking and the work of a more confident filmmaker.  In Ebert's review of the film he paid Sprecher a tremendous compliment by writing, "After these two movies, there aren't many filmmakers whose next film I anticipate more eagerly. " Sprecher however wouldn't direct another feature length film until 2011's "Thin Ice", which Sprecher would eventually disown, claiming the studio took the film away from her.

There was a remarkable documentary a few years ago called "This Changes Everything" (2018). It focused on sexism in Hollywood and the obstacles female directors must overcome. A significant portion of it centered on Sprecher and her career. Watching the documentary made me so angry to think how Hollywood cuts short the careers of talented artists. Sprecher should have had a thriving career with at least ten films under her belt by now. Instead both she and her sister are writers for hire, with no feature length film credits since "Thin Ice".

What is worse than Hollywood's treatment of talented artists, is the silence from movie critics. No critic I can think of actually claims to support censorship but gosh they sure are quiet when it happens in front of their eyes. If movie critics don't stand up for art and great artists, exactly who is supposed to?

In the twenty-four years that have followed since the release of "13 Conversations About One Thing", I have never forgotten it. Like Ebert, I also eagerly awaited the next film from Sprecher. As the years passed, I just figured she had trouble raising money. It hadn't occurred to be sexism was playing a role. In my naïve mind I thought Sprecher's talent made her immune to such prejudice.  

"13 Conversations" is a smart, engaging and philosophical film. It makes us ponder life's big questions and comes to no easy conclusions about human behavior. Sprecher showed technical craft by understanding how to visualize psychology on-screen, while also being able to get natural performances out of her actors, especially DuVall and Arkin. She is a talent that is sorely missed in Hollywood.

Film Review: Too Wise Wives

  "Too Wise Wives"

 **** (out of ****)

The married couple sits mostly silent but contently together in their study. He is smoking a pipe as he reads a book. The smoke from his pipe blows in her face. She'd prefer it if he'd smoke the cigars she bought him for Christmas. She wouldn't dare suggest it though since she doesn't want to be a nag. Meanwhile she is knitting him a pair of slippers to replace his beat up old pair. Delighted by her accomplishment, she enthusiastically puts the new pair on his feet; but he liked his old, worn out pair - they were comfortable. The next morning she has prepared for them to have fried chicken for breakfast. He once told her fried chicken was his favorite but it seems to him like they always eat chicken.

Watching these opening moments from Lois Weber's remarkable silent film, "Too Wise Wives" (1921) my heart swelled up and filled me with understanding. At one time or another throughout my life I have been these characters - the overeager lover, desperately wanting to please their partner or the overwhelmed recipient of such attention.

"Too Wise Wives" is a delicate examination on the fragility of relationships, societal gender roles, emotional maturity, ego and love. But what is most impressive about Weber's direction and screenplay co-written with Marion Orth are the universal truths they present on-screen. Those subtle observations make the film feel alive and timeless. Here we are seeing ourselves on screen. Whether it is 1921 or 2026, men and woman have engaged in a dance of give and take, often resulting in misunderstandings and even resentments. 

That makes it all the more odd for me when I read online, viewers refer to this film as one of Weber's "lesser" films. What exactly is "lesser" about noting human behavior? What is "lesser" about a commentary on modern relationships and society? Is it that the movie is perceived to lack a visual flair? I'll take emotional truth over spectacle any day! 

This is not to say Lois Weber was not a dizzyingly competent filmmaker, fully versed in the language of cinema. She was as extraordinarily gifted as D.W. Griffith, the "father" of  American cinema. Watch her short film, "Suspense" (1913) - often cited among her best work - and witness the technical craft. Pay attention to her use of split screen - dividing the frame into thirds - her effective use of cross-cutting, the editing, the pacing, the fluidity of the plot and the usage of the camera. Notice the shift in perspective as whenever a Tramp character is on-screen the POV is always an overhead shot. Compare all of this to Griffith's own short, "An Unseen Enemy" (1912). Critics and historians rightly praise Griffith for his mastery of these cinematic techniques, Weber demonstrates she was an equal. An unfortunately forgotten equal. There's no point to declare Weber was better than Griffith. It's rather immature to feel compelled to knock someone down in order to lift another. D.W. Griffith was a great filmmaker. Lois Weber was a great filmmaker.

If  "Too Wise Wives" seems to be doing "less" than other Weber films, lets go back to the first two pivotal scenes and consider all of the emotional psychology Weber's camera is capturing. From the very first shot of Mrs. David Graham (Claire Windsor) the viewer is immediately in  her head space. The intertitles contribute to this but Weber's camera isn't neutral. It is subtle in its alignment with the wife. The shots seems impartial - long shots, medium shots, two shots - but notice psychologically what happens whenever we see David Graham (Louis Calhern). As we watch him, we consider how his wife will respond. Weber even projects conflict spatially each time the camera cuts between two shots - both characters in a frame - to medium shots of the individual characters. The medium shots invoke a greater distance between the characters while in a two shot we see their isn't much space between them. That manipulation of space reflects each characters emotional distance. Weber may not be doing anything as fancy as dividing her frame into thirds but that camera is working to visually tell a story and Weber is controlling her audiences' emotions in ways only the best filmmakers do. 

While the camera is never neutral and our sympathies are meant to align with the wife, "Too Wise Wives" implies she is the "weaker" character since she is the one making all of the "sacrifices" to keep domestic tranquility - putting up with her husband's smoke, not "nagging" and cleaning up after his ashes. But these actions aren't "weakness" and her "sacrifices" are declarations of love. The husband isn't necessarily self-absorb or uncaring either. He eventually becomes conscious of his actions and the ensuing results of them. There is a little bit of  "a man should be king of his castle" mentality but underneath that is a commentary that communication is key. Neither character is "good" or "bad", "weak" or "strong". Instead we come to observe, good intentions may lead to acts of kindness but they can also be misinterpreted. That's why Weber begins her story with a title card that reads; "Most stories end: "And they lived happily ever after ~", "Too Wise Wives" is about how people interact day-to-day to keep that "happily ever after" alive. In other words, how do we co-exist? It's not a "battle" between the sexes but a gentle dance. That's the heart of Weber's tale.

"Too Wise Wives" contrasts the Grahams with Mr. John Daly (Phillips Smalley, who was married to Weber) and his wife (Mona Lisa) with a particular focus on the wives. If Mrs. Graham tries too hard to fit into her role of wife, Mrs. Daly is the opposite. If Mrs. Graham is suffocating, Mrs. Daly is carefree. Weber however proposes "carefree" doesn't equal "freedom". Carefree may be a lack of trying. Carefree could indicate you have nothing personally at stake. Mrs. Graham is insecure and tries too hard but she loves her husband. Her doting signifies her investment in the marriage. Weber crystalizes this tension when Mrs. Graham becomes suspicious of Mrs. Daly, after she sends her husband a perfume scented letter. Heightening the anxiety is the fact Mr. Graham and Mrs. Daly were once involved.

It is through these actions that Weber and Orth's screenplay begins to focus on the themes of emotional maturity, ego and the fragility of relationships. While Mrs. Graham both despises and admires Mrs. Daly, for her ability to seemingly be "the perfect wife", she will eventually learn that in a good relationship / marriage both people must learn to trust one another, there is no such thing as perfect, and compromise is key.  

Weber creates wonderful visuals to communicate Mrs. Graham's growth. For example take a scene where Mrs. Graham is expecting to find her husband cheating. She is in the second floor hallway and sits down to spy on her husband below, who is pacing in a library. We see him through the railings. Whenever a character is positioned above another, that signals power, and here Mrs. Graham has a moment of clarity. Seeing the husband in a frame within a frame (through the railings) not only guides our eyes towards him, it demonstrates the emotional weight of the moment. Once again Weber is using the camera to convey psychology, as she does with the final image of the couple, embraced in each others arms. They are tangled together, which is a much different image from when we first saw them with space between them.

These moments make me appreciate Claire Windsor's performance, which I think is the best from the cast. Many viewers on-line however seem to not enjoy it, calling it "annoying", "slow" or "boring". For me though, she drives the entire film and not only because she is the lead character. Windsor is moving the story along through her acting. Silent films practically require this. There is never a moment of doubt about what Windsor's character is feeling or thinking, even without the use of title cards. That is what makes this a successful performance. It completely pulled me in and made the character relatable. A bad performance on the other hand is when you don't understand a character's logic or mindset. When you don't understand their emotions. None of that is true in the case of  Windsor. Luckily, Weber also spotted something in Windsor and would cast her in additional films such as "The Blot" (1921) and "What Do Men Want Want?" (1921).

Meanwhile actress Mona Lisa plays a "bad girl, gone good" character, adding morality to this melodrama. Though unlike the works of Frank Borzage a bit later - a prominent filmmaker from the 1920s and 30s - Weber and "Too Wise Wives" is not preachy. The screenplay never makes Lisa's character out to be a villain, despite her seductress ways. Instead we recognize she is really a good person but she is hiding her true self. That explains why Weber gave the film a homophone title. Yes, we are dealing with two wives but their "problem" is they are too wise for their own good. They need to think less and trust more with their hearts. 

This is perfectly conveyed in the way  Weber creates the distinction between the Graham's having breakfast and the Daly's. Mr. Daly appears please with his wife. Mrs. Daly does nothing to agitate her husband. If Mr. Daly doesn't like his breakfast, Mrs. Daly doesn't take it as a personal rejection, the way Mrs. Graham would. But underneath that facade of domestic bliss, Mrs. Daly lacks the affectionate look that Mrs. Graham has in her eyes. It isn't until the end of the film, when Mrs. Daly makes a request of her husband, after a humiliating experience, does Mrs. Daly show vulnerability, which makes her human. Only than does she appreciate her husband and understand the emotional dynamics that goes into a relationship.

A message such as this will be "problematic" for some modern viewers, especially those with a political bent. They will be expecting a "feminist film", since this was directed by a woman. This type of thinking however causes a disconnect for modern viewers when they watch older films. They want to retroactively apply modern politics to 100 year old movies. In the case of Lois Weber specifically, these same kind of viewers are expecting her to make social commentaries aimed at tearing down the patriarchy. This actually reduces Weber and ignores her true talent and abilities as a filmmaker. It's part of the problem when you are political first, human second, only watching movies that validate your political beliefs. If  "Too Wise Wives" isn't feminist, it is not a betrayal of womanhood on Weber's part - I actually read that! Just because someone is a woman, doesn't mean they are automatically a feminist. Phyllis Schlafly anyone? Furthermore, there is no proof  that Weber was a self-identified feminist. The great movie critic, Molly Haskell, wrote in her seminal book, From Reverence to Rape the following about Weber, "Her surviving, and presumably more commercially successful, films are conventional melodramas of the kind that were being turned out by the truckload in every studio. There is even evidence for supporting that her sympathies were at the very least mixed, if not blatantly opposed to feminism". In fact there is a scene in this film where women are gathered at a political meeting - remember women had won the right to vote a year earlier - and Weber makes a joke about how some women don't even know the issues.

None of this is to suggest that Lois Weber was not a remarkable figure. There is much feminist can find extremely deserving of admiration. Historians believe she was the first  American woman to direct a movie in 1914. By 1916 she was one of the highest paid directors at Universal Pictures, making $5,000 a week. The following year, she was running her own movie studio - Lois Weber Pictures - making her once again the first American woman to do so. Her films were commercially successful, making her one of the most popular - and important - directors of her era, regardless of gender. Her technical craft matched the likes of D.W. Griffith. And while "Too Wise Wives" may not be a prime example, Weber's films did tackle big social issues such as hypocrisy, class, marriage, and even birth control.

This is what makes it all the more frustrating when women like Weber have been ignored and forgotten about in film history. In the early years of cinema, women were a significant part of its history. There were tremendously talented women who were directors, writers and major box-office stars. Names like Alice Guy-Blache, Helen Holmes, Mabel Normand, Grace Cunard, Nell Shipman and Alice Howell all contributed to make the movies what they would become. 

The emergence of the Hollywood studio system is what many feminist film theorists and critics believe caused the erasure of these great artists from film history books. The shift from independent filmmaking, which allowed a filmmaker like Weber to flourish, transformed into a male dominated business. With a new priority on profits, Hollywood deemed men more suitable for the task of handling these projects, pushing aside female voices.

There has been a process in the works - driven mostly by female movie critics - to acknowledge these directors and highlight their contributions. More film lovers are now aware that Alice Guy-Blache may have directed the first fictional film in 1896 ("The Cabbage Fairy"), that director Dorothy Arzner invented the boom mic, or that silent film comedy was comprised of more than just Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd. There was Polly Moran and Alice Howell for example. We have people like the excellent critic Elizabeth Weitzman to thank for this, the author of Renegade Women in Film & TV and Alicia Malone, who wrote The Female Gaze, and DVD sets like "Pioneers: First Women Filmmakers", distributed by KINO.

Hopefully this will also lead to greater exposure of  Weber's work. We must be careful however not to reduce her to a symbol. Weber was a great filmmaker not because she was a woman but because she had talent. Female directors shouldn't be treated as novelties and they shouldn't be expected to have progressive views. These women were products of their times, under the same social pressures as anyone else. Weber's work excels because of this. She not only captured her time but found the universality of the human existence. That is more valuable than politics because it is the mark of an artist and not an activist.

"Too Wise Wives" may not be considered one of Lois Weber's great works but it is never-the-less an essential piece that underscores the qualities that defined her films - subtlety, nuisance, interiority - and showcases her technical craftsmanship for being able to visualize character psychology. It is one of my favorite Weber films.   

Film Reviews: The Short Horror Films of David F. Sandberg - Lights Out / Not Alone in Here / Shadowed

 "Short Horror Films By David F. Sandberg"

Star Ratings Irrelevant

Are you afraid of the dark? It's a question filmmaker David F. Sandberg is very interested in.

I first became aware of Sandberg when I reviewed his feature-length film debut, the horror film "Lights Out" (2016). At the time I declared it the horror movie of the year and placed it on my year-end top ten list. Sandberg, I believed, was going to turn into a major talent. And so he has. A year later I was impressed once again with his "Annabelle: Creation" (2017), placing it in on year-end list. It was a step up for Sandberg to direct a film that was part of the "Conjuring Universe". His success continued; directing films that were part of the DC Universe; "Shazam!" (2019) and its sequel "Shazam! Fury of the Gods" (2023).

Sandberg however has directed several short films. In fact, he continues to direct short films in between his major theatrical releases. To me this implies a strong fondness for this particular format of filmmaking; and why I wanted to explore it during this year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films. I would imagine short films provide Sandberg and his wife, Lotta Losten - who stars in these films - the opportunity to explore ideas and filming techniques. These short films aren't meant to be miniature three act structures. They are simple premises, based on singular ideas, that in some cases run approximately three minutes long. The films are simply meant to explore our fear of the dark. 

"Lights Out" was based on a 2013 short film of the same title starring Losten. In the film she is about to go to bed and shuts off her hallway light. Whenever she does this though a shadowy figure appears at the end of the hall. No matter how many times she flicks the light on and off the figure remains in the dark. The woman finally decides it is best to keep the light on and with some trepidation goes in her bedroom. From her bed the situation intensifies. She can see the light in the hallway shut off and her bedroom door appears open. Each time an incident happens the woman hides under her blanket only to discover something new has transpired when she peaks up. It escalates to a frightening conclusion. This is all accomplished in just under three minutes.

Unlike other short films I have watched recently, this isn't academic filmmaking focused on the heavy use of symbolism and metaphor. What it is however is excellent filmmaking nonetheless. Sandberg knows how to frame a scene and build suspense by playing on an audience's expectation. That is what I responded to so strongly in his feature-length version of "Lights Out" but Sandberg displays that talent here in this short as well.

What Sandberg and Losten, who is listed as a co-directed on the film, do so effectively in "Lights Out" is put the audience in her perspective. We don't know more than she does. We experience everything as she does. Some horror movies for example will show a killer in the corner of a frame but the main characters don't see the person. Other horror movies put us in the POV of the killer, stalking their victim, who never seems cognizant of their surroundings. In "Lights Out" information is delayed until the character discovers it. So each time she hides under that blanket, and we are shown her hiding, we never know what to expect when she looks up. We hearing someone's footsteps. We hear the light switch go off. And that is enough to scare us. 

Contrast that with what Sandberg does in "Not Alone in Here" (2020). Sandberg and Losten change the dynamic a bit but bring to the fore an idea that was in the background of "Lights Out". It's not just the idea of being in the dark that is scary, it's the idea of being alone. "Lights Out" exposes our fear of the dark but what was really scary for the woman in the film is the fact she was all by herself. That's adds to our fear. Not having anyone to share the experience with. Not having someone around who could possibly protect us.

That is what "Not Alone in Here" examines. This time the film takes place largely in light. A woman (Losten) is almost positive she looked her kitchen door but when she sees the door wide open, her mind begins to play tricks on her. For this film narration is used as an inner dialogue. It is meant to further place us in her mind. The woman tries to calmly diagnose the situation. Even if the door was locked what should she do next? Call the police? And tell them what? Leave and check into a hotel? Then she'll never know if the person left or not when she returns? 

Instead the women searches her home with a large knife. She goes room by room until she is somewhat comfortable and stays in her bedroom. This is the first time the women is in the dark. She is still afraid which proves light or dark is immaterial, the real fear comes from our mind and being alone.

"Shadowed" finds Sandberg and Losten looking for new ways to explore these themes. This short is a bit closer to "Lights Out" but what I found improved upon was Sandberg's scene composition. The film begins with a woman (Losten again) sitting in her bed when the power suddenly goes out. What caught my eye is the window is directly in the foreground. Horror movie fans probably have their eyes trained to expect something to walk pass the window or stare through the window. That by itself builds tension. When the power goes out, the woman grabs a flashlight in her bedroom drawer. Each time she thinks she hears a noise, she points the flashlight and her body in the direction of the noise. This caused me to expect something to be behind her when she turns around. Which may or may not happen. Sandberg is playing the audience like a piano. He knows the tropes and knows the audience does too.

This film also differs from Sandberg's other shorts by adding surrealism, this is something we saw in his earlier short, "Closet Space" (2016), which adds a new layer to his work. In "Shadowed" wherever she points the flashpoint she sees a shadow of something not in the room. At first it is innocent, the shadow is of a vase on her dresser, but then it turns scarier, the shadows are of people.

Of the three shorts this is probably Sandberg being his most symbolic. Flashlights, my old film school professors taught us, represent both hope and danger. The flashlight can be used for survival but of course, it only illuminates a small area, leaving room for potential danger. That is exactly the theme Sandberg is playing with here and in "Lights Out" - the dichotomy between light and dark, fear and safety. 

If there are faults with Sandberg's films, the main one is the treatment of its female characters. The shorts seems to go out of their way to suggest unspeakable danger, and possible torment, awaits the character and terrify her. This is partly a trope of the genre, the cruel treatment of women. So to criticize these shorts, means to criticize the entire genre. What distinguishes these short films from other horror movies is at least the set-ups created by Sandberg and Losten are scary. But we know from directors like Jennifer Kent and Erin Lovett that you can create female led horror films, work within the tropes, and still add emotional depth and treat the characters with respect.

The other downside to these shorts is their running time. You aren't going to accomplish much of a narrative arc in three minutes. These aren't shorts you watch for their intricate storylines. It would be difficult to see how these storylines could be expanded into feature-length films. But  I wouldn't have been able to see how Sandberg would transform his "Lights Out" short into a feature film. I think Sandberg merely views these shorts as fun experiments, where he can test out ideas.

That becomes a takeaway for short films in general. They help directors explore ideas and learn how to execute them. You can see this in Sandberg's work. You also see the joy of filmmaking despite the scary content of the films. Sandberg and Losten appear to be having a good time, which becomes infectious.

I'm happy to say Sandberg's talents appear to have been recognized by other critics as well. When the theatrical version of "Lights Out" was released, former Chicago Sun-Times critic Richard Roeper wrote the movie gave him the chills and went on to praise the film stating it "isn't merely one of the scariest movies of the year - it's one of the best movies of the year, genre be damned." Over at the Chicago Tribune they called Sandberg's second feature, "Annabelle: Creation", "uncommonly, nerve-wrackingly satisfying."

Sandberg's last short film was in 2023 but he continues to direct feature-length projects, such as this year's "Until Dawn" (2025), which is available on various streaming platforms. The film is based on a video game, which is a trend I am not particularly fond of; though I am happy to say it was shot in Budapest. Movie fans may also be happy to know Sandberg has another film in pre-production called "Below".

This trio of short films by Sandberg showcase a highly capable filmmaker exploring and developing his craft. His continuous examination of our fears of the dark and isolation is quietly turning him into one of the most accomplished directors in the horror genre in the past decade. If you are looking for a good scare this Halloween watch these short films, alone and in the dark.