Lost in Criterion

There was a moment in Nagisa Ōshima's obscenity trial for the printed script edition of In the Realm of the Sense where the director apologizes to the judges and police, saying, essentially, "I showed the script to all my colleagues and none of them found it titillating, so I'm sorry you guys got turned on." And I don't think he's just having a laugh at their expense. The film is certainly full, nearly wall to wall, of sex, unsimulated even, but being full of sex and being sexy are different things, and Ōshima has a different goal.

Apparently considered one of Akira Kurosawa's worst films, Dodes'ka-den started life as a joint project between the top four directors in Japan calling themselves the Four Horsemen but ended up being one of the lowest points of Kurosawa's life. We explore a theory on why Japan didn't connect with the subject matter as we talk class and caste in Japanese history and a depressing and visually stunning movie.

Andrzej Wajda's Danton explores the French revolution through the Polish director's own experience under Soviet rule, a rule he saw as anti-worker and therefore anti-progress. Using the titular Danton and Robespierre, the film presents the tension of revolution, or perhaps violent revolution, if Wajda makes such a distinction, and particularly a revolution that seeks only to rotate who is in power instead of upturning power hierarchies.

Revolutions that promise equality without upheaving power structures aren't revolutions. Equality must always broaden.

Vittorio De Sica stars in Roberto Rossellini's Il Generale Della Rovere, the story of a conman coerced into impersonating an Italian resistance general, but really it's two stories: the first half is De Sica's character's everyday life promising to rescue people's family members from Nazi imprisonment if they can raise the money and his arrest and trial for doing that, then the second half is a war prison film of the same man on the inside doing his new con job. A fascinating and great movie, but like many others, would have been better if more people making it were communists instead of just nationalists.

A very different François Truffaut film to any we've seen before, The Last Metro draws on the director's memories of a childhood during Occupation to craft a story that is not autobiographical by any means, but instead tells the story of the community around a theater and the various ways people persevered.

David Lean's adaptation of Hobson's Choice brings the atmospheric panache that made his Great Expectations so amazing but putting it into a comedy about a guy who doesn't want his adult daughters to get married in a situation that seems like a dark parody of an Ozu plot. Ultimately, though, it's a pretty light story about a woman who exercises her own self-determination by forcing a man to be more assertive.

Our second of back-to-back Luis Buñuel films brings us more of the director's critique of organized religion and Christianity in particular. In particular with Simon of the Desert Buñuel takes aim at performative deprecation, the inherent arrogance of claiming to be the lowest of the low (particularly when you're also literally putting yourself on a pedestal). This is maybe the most Pat has enjoyed Buñuel's religious work, but also it's just hard not to be delighted by Silvia Pinal's portrayal of the devil.

Luis Buñuel was a man who absolutely loved a metaphorical dinner party. I believe The Exterminating Angel is our fourth encounter with one in one of the man's films, and it may be one of my favorites, though they are all amazing in their own right. This week Criterion also provides us with some bonus biographical material on Buñuel that includes a story about ruining a Christmas dinner at Charlie Chaplins house and calling it "praxis".

This week is also the first of a one-two punch of Buñuel's final Mexican films. While this week focuses on the aristocracy (and a little on religion), next week swings hard at organized Christianity and I can't wait to share that episode with you as well.

Gregory Nava's El Norte is a gut-wrenching tale of indigenous teen siblings escaping violence in Guatemala. It tells a story that really hadn't been told before, centering characters whose stories often go ignored even today.

For Douglas Sirk's adaptation of Lloyd C. Douglas's "liberal Christianity x pop psychology" novel the director makes the right choice to instead just remake the earlier 1935 John M. Stahl directed adaptation, which Criterion helpfully provides as a bonus feature on this release. While the 1935 version tries to show the absurdity of the melodrama with a slapstick-y comedy style, Sirk just ratchets up the melodrama to even more absurd levels.