The very Italian giallo meets burgeoning blaxsploitation in Port-au-Prince, Haiti in the 1972 crime mystery Tropic of Cancer (sometimes also referred to as Death in Haiti or Peacock’s Palace), directed by Giampaolo Lomi and Edoardo Mulargia (both also co-write along with star Anthony Steffen). A couple on the rocks, Fred and Grace Wright (Gabriele Tinti and Anita Strindberg), make their way to the island paradise to seemingly rekindle their relationship... yet the husband also plans on meeting up with long unseen friend Doctor Williams (Anthony Steffen). Unbeknownst to them (or is it), the M.D. and veterinarian by day and scientist by night (this guy can do everything) has discovered a rather desirable aphrodisiacal hallucinogenic drug formula that everyone is out to get – some legitimately, others not so much.
Three weeks ago today, I reviewed Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, a 1989 film directed by Pedro Almodóvar that starred Antonio Banderas. I said that in some ways it was similar to another motion picture that features the iconic director and actor – 2011's The Skin I Live In, which will be reviewed here today. Feeling like a modern take on the Frankenstein story (or perhaps Bride of Frankenstein), Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, a plastic surgeon and scientist at the forefront of his field. He has been successful in developing a type of artificial skin that is resistant to burns as well as insect bites. Controversial in the scientific community, he claims to have only tested it on mice – though when he hints that he has used it on a human being, he is strictly prohibited from continuing his research.
Dealing with the unnerving and dangerously disturbing topic of the Stockholm Syndrome, Pedro Almodóvar uses deft humour, rich engaging (as well as flawed) characters and a solid story to concoct one of the more unusual romances in film history. The title of said motion picture is Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, released in 1989 to much fanfare and equally as much controversy. The winner of several festival awards (as well as being lauded as a superb film in Spain), it received an X rating in the United States (equal to that of a hardcore pornography film) – with the MPAA disliking two scenes as well as the crime aspect of the story (which they thought could influence young males to commit kidnapping much like the main character). To paraphrase Almodóvar, he humourously exclaimed that he does not make movies expecting that the entire audience will be psychopaths. In the end, it was this movie that led the MPAA to create the new rating of NC-17, which still exists today, and if given, usually kills a movie’s box office chances much like the X rating.
Considered one of the great films of the Czech New-Wave, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders takes the viewer on an unorthodox nonlinear journey through a bizarre, sensual, dream-like fantasy world where the lead character, Valerie (Jaroslava Schallerová), is just budding into womanhood. Seen through the eyes of the impressionable, pure, and innocent ingenue, we are not sure if what we are seeing is, in fact, reality, or whether it is dream (or perhaps more accurately – nightmare), or projections of what coming into adulthood is like, or some mixture of them all.
Vittorio De Sica’s 1948 classic Bicycle Thieves is a prime example of Italian Neo-Realism. The genre, which spanned a short ten or so year period during the 1940s and 1950s, highlighted life of ordinary, working class (and often impoverished) individuals who were dealing with the stresses of day to day life in Italy during or shortly after World War 2. Previously, Italian filmmakers had had their artistic scope and perspective limited by the fascist government of Benito Mussolini (for more than twenty years) and this style of motion picture was a reaction to it. Filmed in a semi-documentary fashion (typically on a low budget), the streets of Rome and other cities were used instead of the safety of studios to depict relevant social themes of otherwise common people.
I have always been fascinated by directors who utilize long takes in their films. By concocting a lengthy shot, filmmakers expect the most from their actors as well as the cameramen, and in so doing, make the audience feel as if they are walking the same path that the characters are journeying. Numerous directors have been successful at elongating the editing pace in which we are accustomed to, a few that immediately come to mind are Brian De Palma, Alfonso Cuarón and Martin Scorsese.
Back in the early 1980's, Polish writer/director Krzysztof Kieslowski made a film titled Blind Chance, which scrutinized the concepts of luck, predetermination, and how one minuscule happening (through blind chance) can change your life in wholly different ways. Filmed at the heart of the Solidarity Movement in Poland (a time when people rose up against the Communist government in the form of a trade union first led by Lech Walêsa – which led to greater freedom for a few years), Kieslowski