April 24, 2011

Luc Moullet's latest (trailer)


TOUJOURS MOINS
Luc Moullet
(France, 14’, 2010)
In 1993, I filmed "Toujours plus". The indispensable complement was missing, "Toujours moins ", my fortieth film. It evokes in 13 minutes the development and expansion, from 1968 to 2010, of the devices based on computers, automats, interactive terminals and others that can be found in all areas. The aim of our current system appears to be to employ a single individual in each sector of activity. We are not there yet, but we're getting there... A schizophrenic world, since, at the same time, businesses are having to pay the price of these suppressions in an indirect way. We can't leave millions of human beings jobless. An observation that is both bitter and funny: the methods of this perpetual reduction are surprising and comical...

April 20, 2011

The United States is a very young country, in swaddling clothes.
I even have a diaper, I'll show it to you, that's the country -
I have a real diaper in the corner there.
Every time I look at it reminds me when I'm writing anything:
make sure you're writing about a baby.



***


They say "More more more,"
The reply is: "There is no more".

-30-
(means end of story.)


--Samuel Fuller (1983, The South Bank Show)

April 6, 2011

Film Her Her Film

Los Angeles: playing tonight at the Egyptian theater: the extraordinary THE DARK MIRROR by Robert Siodmak. A symphony of interior grays (as with all Siodmak), an astonishing double role - and roll: Olivia de Havilland plays twin sisters through Milton Krasner's trick cinematography. All codes of cinema are questioned by this film. The medium shot psychoanalyzes the close-up (two divided by one, which was already one), and the close-up the reverse shot. A film that makes you think twice with every composition.




*





March 30, 2011


1978



Jean Narboni and Serge Daney


Serge Daney and Serge Toubiana 

interviewed by Fabrice Ziolkowski 

on LES CAHIERS DU CINÉMA

July 1978


FZ: I’d like us to talk about the period of the Cahiers from the time when there was still an interest in the American cinema (1968-70) up to today. Specially what you’ve been doing in the last three years and what you’re moving towards.

Toubiana: It’s interesting to start that way. Why did texts stop being translated in the U.S. and elsewhere? Effectively this period which begins in mid-1972 (#242) is a typically French period when the Cahiers really enter French ideology of the moment. It was a period of crystallization on the political discourse, we tightened ourselves around the master’s discourse of the Marxist-Leninist movement with our thoughts turned toward the Chinese Cultural Revolution. This period is not really translatable and would most likely be of no interest in translation. We entered a period, if you like, of the French context, context of the Leftist French Intellectual.

Daney: We can also make a point here. The English translation of Cahiers by Sarris was happening at a time when American Cinema was still very important for the French critic, from this period (1966) up to now there hasn’t been anything translatable into an Anglo-Saxon context, political or intellectual, from Cahiers. We come to the specificity of the French situation, be it on a theoretical level and on the political level. The theoretical texts can always be re-appropriated after ten years, which is what seems to be happening in the U.S. and in England. It’s evident that the purely political period of Cahiers is untranslatable, that if it was, it would give birth to monsters given the differences in American and French intellectual lives. Of course, I saw people in New York like Bill Starr who are “militants” and their discourse is poor including in relation to what was already poor here then. It’s totally without life, while we can say that this hard and rigid discourse, at the time, was also accompanied by a certain passion, which is important. When people today come back on those texts, the passion has left, and all that is left is the letter of the texts which is frightening, like any letter.

FZ: Fred Guynn’s article in JumpCut* is an example of this. It only supports its arguments through the texts.

Toubiana: That’s something we also did though. In the little world of Marxism-Leninism, everything is judged by the text. This comes from a Bolshevik tradition. The dogmatics have always claimed that truth and falsehood were written. We did the same thing: "X thinks this, because he wrote this.” There’s nothing surprising about somebody else doing it to us.

Daney: Something irritated Narboni and I a little bit in Edinburgh last year. The problems of art, culture and theory that we had faced in this time of politicization, were coming to a country like England quite a bit late, and were being dealt with by people who were calling themselves Althusserians, but who were forgetting to do what Althusserians everywhere do, that is history. They had no curiosity for this specificity, of the history of the relationship between intellectuals and Leftist politics in France. On this, there’s the risk of doing an ahistorical work, university-like and academic. There’s a debate about the intellectual and the masses that’s been going on for 100 years and we’re only one part of that debate. It’s evolved differently in the States, that’s a text for YOU to do.

FZ: How long did this period last?

Toubiana: Properly speaking, the Marxist-Leninist period lasted from #242-43 in which we got rid of the photos. Which instead of fetishizing the photos, fetishized the texts. It went to issue #250 in which there is the editorial re-defining the review’s stand, leaving the Marxist-Leninist ghetto.

FZ: Why have you entered and then left the Marxist-Leninist movement?

Daney: All the cultural people were behind in politics. The height of Marxism was probably 1970, Cahiers plugged into it when it was already in decline but we didn’t know it yet. Cahiers and Cinethique were the only ones to have taken seriously, albeit later, what had moved politically during those years. It was something going around Paris. It had affected reviews like Tel Quel and at the university there were some very politicized students, this all precipitated our move.

Toubiana: A very concrete example. In February 1972 there was the demonstration at the burial of Pierre Auvernay.** It was t
he sum of Leftist activity and the beginning of the end, the largest Leftist demonstration in France (200,000 people). The Cahiers people went to it and from then on, the review was a place where Marxism-Leninism was discussed, while the Auvernay demonstration was the end of the Maoist movement. The entertainment people also showed up. It was also an opportunity to see the PC under its ugliest mask. It put the murderer and the victim on the same level. There was a sensibility with the “petits bourgeois” who wanted to politicize themselves while the people interested in Marxism-Leninism were in a period of decline.

Daney: After that, there was a traditional period when Cahiers was thinking of its political activity in regards to a Party (to be built) although it was evident that the small groups would never build this party. There was a polemical and hysterical position in regards to the PCF which was ten years too late on everything concerning Cultural Front activity (theory, cinema), something it has somewhat made up today. There was a second period in which certain words can help us. The word “power” came at one moment, synchronically with Foucault... We can say that our cinephilia helped us to go forward. For a cinephile, the power of the cineaste, even if it’s really imaginary, is ours of proportion socially and real in regards to what he manipulates as material. Therefore, we see a moral preoccupation which comes back to Bazin, which is to evaluate films not really on their aesthetic quality but in ethical terms. It’s a period when we speak of “direct.” Then there’s a third period when, from the idea of power, we moved to the realization of the power of media. Power today is the new management of media which is a problem on which the Leftists have been nil, pre-historic, with the exception of someone like Baudrillard. But let’s say that, in general, Marxist reflection on media is nil. This is a little bit the Mattelart period.*** From then on we saw how we could re-interest ourselves in cinema, in films that were coming out, to become once more a film review while being a little bit ahead which consists in recognizing that film is one piece in the more general game of the media and that we can’t disassociate them. To approach these media, everything we learned before 1968, in psychoanalysis for example, is helpful.

Toubiana: I think you’re going a little too fast because there have been other words too. My thesis is that may exist from dogmatism is done on the empirical and populist mode. When you come out from a strong discourse, a little bit paranoid, you only do so through a return on your base where you try to see what is being done on a popular level in the area you’re working in. The fetish words at the time are “popular culture” and “ideological struggle.” In the table of contents of #250 you see the Editorial, “Popular Culture” and “Militant Work,”“Collective Film” and “Critical Function” where Cahiers fights an ideological struggle against films with reactionary political content: Lacombe Lucien and Night Porter. We only leave the period where we lost the cinematic referent by returning to it in a more populist fashion. We invented some words like “popular culture” which doesn’t exist, isn’t definable. From there you come to today when we’ve rectified a lot of things. A deviation always supposes a counter-deviation.

FZ: A deviation which was rather abrupt to begin with.

Toubiana: It’s a violent return which doesn’t go far enough or goes too far. It was also done at the price of sacking one person in particular. It wasn’t done without a crisis.

Daney: This pendulum movement also follows a logic. The subjective drama of the intellectual is that he is in the service of ... he thinks himself as responsible, either in the service of a party or in the service of the masses. Cahiers lived both phases rather quickly before finding an anchoring place where are found certain cineastes who work this situation from a filmmaker’s point of view. This lets us re-question the cinema. But more and more from the standpoint of individuality. It’s a kind of very selective “politique des auteurs” which capsulates a period with Straub and Godard. Today, since we’ve got a little critical distance from them, we see they asked themselves these questions from an individual, not individualistic point of view. Pudovkin at the end of his life, Godard when he deals with television and Straub behave like little states, little powers, and if they think out the great debates in their times, they do so from a position which is theirs and only theirs. It's always the same debate but more collective in large units and crystalized in one film practice. Since it was already the cinema which, in our capacity of simple cinephiles, we lived before '68, we came back on our feet: Godard, Straub, Robert Kramer, Moullet, etc.
Today we can say that a guy like Syberberg, who’s a more ambiguous filmmaker, also functions in a totally paranoid way, which isn’t negligible, like a small power in relationship to producers, the Party and cinema.

Toubiana: We also forget the word we used at the time: Cultural Front, i.e., an alliance with other artistic practices. We saw at the end of a year that a film critic couldn’t ally himself with a painter.

Daney: It’s from this position of greater power, social, aesthetic and artistic that an intellectual can speak. The last time we saw Bertolucci after The Conformist, we were very rigid and he was already very opportunistic, he said that he had done The Conformist as well as militant films for the PCI on textile workers. It was very evident that he was putting 0.5% of his power into the militant films. It was Godard who put everything into it, that is the level of a great cineaste and enough power to do experiments, he's still going today.

FZ: People who've always taken risks?

Toubiana: I don't think Godard sees it as a risk. He lives it as a normal evolution.

Daney: He sees it as a rivalry between himself and the rest of them. When he said "France mise en scene by Pompidou and Marcellin," it's evident he sees these political men as other filmmmakers. Like Syberberg with Hitler. It's a mad rivalry. It's a settling of accounts with the same weapons: money, and power.

From these we can see other ties from before the political period. A dogmatic cinephilia which extends its hand to dogmatic politics. Cahiers with Godard, Rivette, Bazin, had an arbitrary, cut and dry vision, -- ethical, unjust, polemical. There was always the question of liking one film over another, of liking one film against another. That hasn’t changed.

Toubiana: The worst period of the Cahiers is that after this dogmatism when we thought militant cinema was going to work. In this cinema there is no question of judging the quality of a film, we can only say, “It’s good for the public to which it’s addressed.” Never cutting to say whether it’s a good film or not, one where there is work or not. That was a pretty short period from which we came out with an issue on Straub. Milestones (Robert Kramer) was for us the positive example of militant cinema. We mystified it into the message from America.

FZ: It’s interesting there to see the gap between France and te U.S., Milestones being a film little seen in the U.S.

Toubiana: That’s another thing that’s always gone on.

Daney: It’s something to do with our relationship to American cinema, militant or not. We like Milestones, in regards to the kind of cinema it is. “Progressive” ideas in an Arthur Penn film, for example, were of no interest to us. There’s a great deaf dialogue between the U.S. and France concerning what’s good in American films. Cahiers has always defended the products which Hollywood wasn’t too proud of. I think there’s a re-appropriation of this today since film is being taught increasingly in U.S. universities. It still goes on like Hitchcock and Hawks today with people like Monte Hellman or Cassavetes. Let’s say American film after Arthur Penn and Altman made a cinema which has reacted against the spirit of American cinema (Hollywood films, a reactionary spirit), but which hasn’t touched the letter very much. They film a little less precisely than before. If we’re interested in (Robert) Kramer, it's because he can take up, to the letter, the same shots as Ford, for example. Cassavetes because he's a part of Hollywood fighting Hollywood. The critical viewpoint Americans can have today in regard to their own mythology is not interesting to us, because we did it before them. It's more interesting to see what's done with the letter, on ecriture. It's evident that The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is a thousand times stronger than Penn because of what stays on the level of the letter.

FZ: What kind of tools have you been using to analyze film? I see the influences of psychoanalysis in writing like Bonitzer’s or Pascal Kane’s. There’s been an interest in photography, in video, etc.

Daney: The most Lacanian texts of Bonitzer’s are before the Maoist period. We’ve always had a reaction against the idea of “purity” of cinema. Bazin was interested in TV at a time when it wasn’t seen very much. What we’ve always seen as the best part of French cinema is the most literary and theatrical part, it’s a literary cinema. From Abel Gance to Duras, that’s been the case. This refusal of a “cage” marked Cinema is still going on. We’ve always thought that cinema is defined by what it wasn’t but positively not negatively. It’s always by the meeting of film with something else, like politics, that there’s movement. There’s also the “crisis” of cinema. It’s evident that its place in the other media is going to be redefined. It’s a crisis of the “machine” of French production, not of talent.

FZ: You haven’t gone through the Maoist period to return to the same kind of cinephilia as before?

Daney: No, but everything I said about the letter, about literality, stays the same. Maybe we can better theorize it today.

Toubiana: The old cinephilia supposes the concept of the series. If Ford did one or ten good films, it’s because he did so many films to begin with. All the great filmmakers worked in conditions that allowed them to build an “oeuvre,” a series of films, a kind of factory system (studio) with rebels and other workers who accepted the situation with the bosses. This condition isn’t around anymore. Today’s cinephilia supposes an average (medium) production (France is certainly the place where the average production is worst). Individual works stand out very well, on the other hand. These auteurs we defend are not in a position to work in series, although they're nostalgic about it. The only one who still uses these methods is Godard who says, "You must give me 10 hours of TV time to make 10 films." There's a sort of madness there, to consciously impose on yourself a studio production pace, as if a producer was pushing him. He's got his own studio, factory, he hires technicians, etc. Straub, on the other hand, can't work that way, because he's attracted to literature, the concept of the work. He has to redefine his position each time.

FZ: Straub brings in the question of avant-garde. Can we keep the distinction of Peter Wollen who writes of two avant-gardes and what is your interest for these filmmakers?

Daney: It’s a question of words. If we take the word “avant-garde’ it means those who are ahead of the others, implying that the others will one day go through there.

FZ: Is it a problem of taxonomy then?

Daney: Either it’s a military (spatial) definition or it goes back to something which has existed since the beginning of cinema. When today we see the films of L’Herbier, Cocteau, Man Ray, they’re still avant-garde, they’re still far from the rest. They’re people who defined themselves generally in relation to painting, outside of the industrial machine of film. “Avant-garde” in the Cahiers sense would be people who have cut a path for others: Cocteau, Bresson, Antonioni. People who did work in an industrial system. The role of a film review is to understand at any one time what is done that is new. In our view, to see this in close contact with the “enemy,” where things are the most dangerous, the most risky. Bresson doing Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne in the production system is more important to us than some guy experimenting alone in a corner, although it’s not “one or the other.”

Godard has always made films that questioned cinema. When I saw Les Carabiniers, it seemed obvious to me that you could never make a war film like before anymore, like Walsh's Objective Burma!. It's not the feeling you got when you saw a film by Marcel Hanoun or Malcolm LeGrice. There's another tradition, one which keeps the concept of craftsmanship from the industrial system but which dismisses the rest. The avant-garde is also a phenomenon which is tied to the art market not like it is tied to the rest of cinema. We're interested in the meeting of the two.

Toubiana: The filmmakers that interest us are those who submit themselves to the same verdict as commercial cinema. Straub said Othon was made for workers and peasants, for example.
Daney: If he didn’t say that, he wouldn’t have the strength to do it.

FZ: Is therefore the place where the writing is read more important than the writing itself?

Daney: There’ll certainly come a day when Straub won’t be able to make films outside of Beaubourg.**** It’s a tendency that goes back to the origin, in America, of the avant-garde to painting. The people who used to do Cahiers, and still do them today, learned to love cinema under very precise conditions and it’s not evident that we will learn to look at films like at paintings.

FZ: Do you think Cahiers will begin to explore this different kind of cinema?

Daney: Something that’s always irritated me about the avant-garde is the discourse it holds about itself. Peter Wollen says that there are two avant-gardes, one from the “realism” in cinema and the other which also holds a discourse on “purity” as the first one does (with Bazin, Eisenstein, etc.). There’s always a bad Other, in the case of Eisenstein and Bazin it’s naturalism, and in the case of the other avant-garde it’s narration. The thing I heard most in the U.S. was “non-narrative” cinema which to me doesn’t mean anything. It’s understandable, because if they want to distance themselves from narrative it's simply because they've been the best storytellers in the world. Nobody will ever do better than Hitchcock and Ford to tell a story.



**Pierre Auvernay, worker killed by a factory guard. The guard was recently shot and Auvernay revenged.

***Mattelart is also known for his HOW TO READ DONALD DUCK.

****Beaubourg: Le Centre National d'Art et de Culture George Pompidou



Originally published in ON FILM, No. 9, Winter 1978-79 (ISSN - 0161-1585)

March 23, 2011

March 16, 2011

"Such tricks ('showing the effect before the cause' -Bresson) are nearly always impoverishing except when used with deliberate terrorist intentions, as they are by Lang."     (Oudart)

March 7, 2011






and when they confiscated her goods, when everything was taken away, she let them kiss her back for money.

March 4, 2011

February 20, 2011

"Cinema could be an avenger."

Thankful for Jacob Wren of Radical Cut who has transcribed his notes from "the round-table between Jacques Rancière and Pedro Costa which was part of the conference Image in Science and Art." Take a read, HERE.

"I need cheap machines."

"I want to push the machines into the past."

"I can only think about yesterday, today, and I cannot think about tomorrow."

continue..............



February 11, 2011

February 5, 2011

New movie by Jean-Marie Straub as part of the Jeonju Digital Film Project 2011

***



Un Héritier (An Heir)

2011 / 22 min / Color / HD





Synopsis


In 1994, Jean-Marie Straub and Daniele Huillet made a film, Lothringen!, adapting from a novel Colette Bodauche of Maurice Barrès. In 2010, Straub goes to Alsace in France to complete the second film of the Barrès series. At this time, the film is based on the novel, Au service de l'Allemagne, about Mont Saint Odile written in 1903. Like Joseph, the protagonist, Jean-Marie Straub from the Colmar region will be wandering around Mont Saint Odile following the route of a young country doctor. And Straub will be visiting paths leading to the private house of foresters and near the famous wall of the heathen existing in the region, which were also familiar to Barrès.




Director's Statement


1872 - 1918 !

These images of my childhood cause me pain. We others, young Alsatian bourgeois, we grew up in an atmosphere of conspiracy, fear and hatred.




Production date


- Nov. 2010 : In production (shooting)

- Dec. 2010: Post-production




Q&A




1. How do you feel about joining the project, Jeonju Digital Project 2010 and what kind of work you want to deliver through this project?


A narrative film


2. How do you want you as a director and your works to be introduced to Korean audience?


Shamelessly: both as "the survivor of Warsaw" - and as the last of the Mohicans.


4. How would you explain your own style and philosophy when making films?


Challenging the philosophy!


5. Please let us know if there is an on-going project you are currently working on, and your future plan.


Who knows, you never know.





--excerpted from the PDF Source Book of the Jeonju Digital Project 2011 web page, see here.

Thanks to Ben Greenblatt for the ¡centinela, alerta!

February 4, 2011

February 1, 2011

January 31, 2011

percentage of survival (3)



***


SEI AO CHEGAR A CASA

Sei
ao chegar a casa
qual de nós
voltou primeiro do emprego

Tu
se o ar é fresco

eu
se deixo de respirar
subitamente

António Reis



I KNOW WHEN I GET HOME

I know
when I get home
which of us first arrived from work

You
if the air is cool

me
if I stop breathing
suddenly









***


January 12, 2011

Abraham Polonsky on Mercury Theatre On the Air's 1938 radio broadcast of Wells/Welles' THE WAR OF THE WORLDS

Q: Were you surprised at the reaction to THE WAR OF THE WORLDS, how the public reacted?

POLONSKY: Of course I was surprised. After all I'm a materialist and I know there are no other worlds with people flying around. But they were really frightened.

Q: Absolutely.

POLONSKY: Imagine what an idea they have of the nature of reality!

Q: Through the power of the medium...

POLONSKY: It's the power of the lack of power in the people!


***

December 22, 2010

December 9, 2010

December 7, 2010

December 7th

from Tag Gallagher's Ford till '47:

Field Photo productions won best-documentary Oscars two years in a row, Midway and December 7th (1943). The latter, mostly directed by Gregg Toland, initially followed White House directives and made a case for interning the 160,000 Japanese-Americans living in Hawaii, as was being done with the 110,000 Japanese-Americans living on the west coast.

Instead it was decided to leave the Hawaiians alone, after the military governor, General Delos Emmons, supported by the community, resisted Washington's orders. Accordingly, some 50 minutes of December 7th were deleted, now Japanese-American loyalty is stressed, and the portion that remained was exhibited not in theatres but in factories. Virtually all the footage of the Pearl Harbor attack was staged at Fox. (All prior accounts of December 7th's history, including my own, have missed this story completely. Hawaii's successful defiance of Roosevelt is a deeply forgotten event in American history – not surprisingly.)

The long Gregg Toland version of the film

November 17, 2010

Cinema Nearer to the Earth by Jean-Claude Biette (1982. Translation by Ted Fendt)





There is, I believe, in all of Jean-Marie Straub’s films, an active mixture of two passions: one for politics and one for aesthetics. The first is based on hate, the second on love. In these films, hate is the driving force behind the political passion, love that of the aesthetic. Passions are very much at stake, and this appears as much when the films are violently refused as when they are adored: those who reject them are not confused about what they are rejecting. Two kinds of characters or figures exist between these two poles. The positive ones, who are either resistance fighters – characters that are so strong as to not be entirely lucid (the grandmother in Not Reconciled) or that have a lucidity that exceeds reality (Moses) – artists (with a great capacity to resist) – Bach, Schönberg – or resistance writers – Brecht, Pavese, Fortini (with, in this last example, the chance of being able to put the writer face to face with his writing), and the other, negative ones – bankers, lawyers, soldiers, men of power, agents of repression and democratic opportunists. I’m setting out here a separation and a notion that determines even the contents of Straub’s films, as I interpret them. But love and hate are not pure and one-sided with the first matching the positive characters and the second matching the negative ones. On the other hand, hate isn’t the only complexion that the political passion takes (Straub loves the oppressed), nor is love the only complexion the aesthetic passion takes (he hates clichés, shots that don’t rhyme with anything, superfluous shot durations, and pornography). Love and hate are directly linked and they trade back and forth, but this mixture of two passions – whose exact composition is unknown – is precisely what guides the more or less great success of Straub’s films. Because they both belong to reality and they both express themselves, they are what create this new reality that is the film. Politics and aesthetics are also directly linked in these films even though in public Straub always places politics before aesthetics, which doesn’t exactly describe the reality of his films or the more and more sensual character that is becoming noticeable. More and more, the most beautiful sequences move away from the political passion and get closer to the aesthetic one, and thus we have Too Early, Too Late which comes out today and can be summarized as the combination of two documentaries, one on the French countryside, one on the Egyptian countryside.

If we look at the entirety of J.-M. Straub and D. Huillet’s work, it seems that the most significant film is Moses and Aaron. It contains all the figures from the other films and dares in its excessiveness a fusion of politics and religion (a possible metaphor for the aesthetic), and it shows the struggle between a rather positive character (Straub seems to favor the intransigent spiritual guide, Moses, politically) and a rather negative character (Straub doesn’t like those who make compromises in order to be understood) while entrusting to the aesthetic the work of regulating this duel and attacking directly the political impulses locked within Schönberg’s libretto. As a rule, the aesthetic has to count only on its own forces in order to tackle “politics.” Thus, there exists in Straub’s films (with what one can guess is Danièle Huillet’s vigilance) a capacity for engagement (and, thus, of withdrawal as well), sometimes by way of a political decision, sometimes by way of an aesthetic decision. If I have separated the positive and the negative characters in a very basic manner, it is under the pretense of considering the fact that in practice such characters find, by passing through Straub’s cinematographic device, a more complex existence which they had the potential for in the source texts, and then these are, first of all, in the present in which the spectators live, filmed actors. Once incarnated by the actors, even the negative characters resist (against the ideological traps identified by Straub in the texts and offered by the characters that bring the texts to life) and in the aesthetic process executed by Straub. He takes off his toga of hate (politics) in order to put on his toga of love (aesthetics).

At a certain point, the term “politics” proves to be insufficient. Let’s replace it with “history.” Traces and inscriptions have been talked about a lot in regards to these films. Everything that bears witness to and guards the memory of human actions is the made the subject and the very substance of these films. Can one film history? Straub tries hard, in any case. But isn’t the cinema the art of the present? If we rely on the examples provided by major films, it would appear that before being a matter of essences or nature, it is an aesthetic process. I believe that this conception of cinema as the art of the present dates back to the translation – or the critical realization – by Jean Renoir of Chaplin’s cinema and, maybe above all, of Griffith’s. Charleston (Charleston Parade), La Fille de l’eau (Whirlpool of Fate), and La petite marchande d’allumettes (The Little Match Girl) are films that return to Griffith and develop, in French culture (while suppressing the fictional), what is most profoundly linked to the present: the living truth of the actor. And the art of the present is, in this process of recording via the image (and then via image and sound), that which, within the actor, reaches for or claws at something, that which puts up a fight. Straub’s cinema comes from this Griffith-Renoir movement. The same aesthetic is involved, with the difference beginning at the moment when history provokes in Straub a mixture of love and hate such that all the rigor of an aesthetic is not too much to overcome and resolve it. This resistance of the actors – and we know what traps are placed under their feet, above their heads, etc. in this cinema – is what allows this element of fragility, this degree of mortality to appear in these “negative” characters. They share this with the “positive” characters in the form of bared arms, exposed necks, voices pushed to the point of fatigue, faces drained from the effort made to speak and haggard from lived experiences (what professional actors can rarely give in the ‘cinema-as-art-of-the-present’ aesthetic). That the positive and the negative characters are treated in the same, quasi-documentary manner in their cinematographic inscription allows the love-hate tension on the political side to be resolved in the love-hate tension – strictly aesthetic – between history and the present, between traces (on stones, on paper, that one can read – Fortini – or decipher – Bach, Schönberg) and obstacles: the actors placed in between the text and the anti-naturalist memorization, between the energy that they would like to freely employ and the obligation to submit to the mysterious and implacable orders of each shot.

In the French countryside, Too Early, Too Late shows us roads, fences, pastures, fields, cows, villages and market towns, as well as the sky and clouds, and we hear, captured by the direct sound, all sorts of noises and bird songs. In the Egyptian countryside the film shows us the land grown wild or covered in planted vegetation, paved and unpaved roads, waterways, walls, a railroad track, fortifications, a factory and lots of workers coming out, women, men, and children who come and go, peasants who are going to work or coming home, bikes that pass, mopeds, cars, trucks, and carts, and we hear with all this, in direct sound, in addition to events than we can’t see (an extraordinary far-off rumble, like a continuous bass hum). Too Early, Too Late is composed of panoramic shots in which the rotating movements capture the elements of the “scenery,” stopping and re-starting, including and excluding, by some kind of cryptic decision, the individuals in the shot, admiring them as they pass by. The grass, the clouds, the sky, the light, and the movement of the human beings establishes the present, the only element of the show. And this time, no one is speaking in front of us. Where then is the history? It is, first of all, in the first shot of the film, outside of the country: something of a reminder of the worst, the Place de la Bastille, filmed as we have never seen it, overrun by the perpetual movement of cars. And it is in two commentaries spoken, if I may say so, off screen. For the French countryside, a text by Engels that is an account of the beggars in certain French villages before 1789 and, for the Egyptian countryside, a text extracted from a book (by Mahmoud Hussein) published by Maspero relating the history of Egypt and its efforts to escape from colonialism. History is also in the extracts of Egypt’s official archival footage, the images and sounds of which are integrated into the continual flow of the film.

What is history’s role in this film? It consists in employing not a tension that would be able to confront the aesthetic violence of the Straubian project, but a pressure that only sets in motion a quantifiable movement of signifieds. The Marxist discourse (even if it is partly Engels’) menaces these landscapes; it determines a path to the people that we see, just as much as capitalist exploitation in the case of the French peasants (made present by graffiti on a wall) and colonialism (and neo-colonialisms) in the case of the common people and the members of the underclass in Egypt is supposed to, in this film, menace them and determine their path. It even goes so far as producing a sort of very unpleasing shock when we hear the signifier “repression” at the moment that we see a police officer stopping some children from going near the camera. This means that the desire to give meaning (here, during the length of a second, and in a more constant manner by the commentary) does not manage to find any grounds for communication with the aesthetic project and, thus, the political-aesthetic tension is not constructed, but imposed. The shot of the Bastille and the archival footage, however, participate in a genuine construction of this tension. So much the worse for us! Nobody will be able to explain why John Ford insisted on reverence and solemnity.
Let’s consider what is splendid about this film. It is a pure documentary the way that Playtime is a purely comedic film. Too Early, Too Late exists through its own secret rhythms, formed by this series of panoramic shots. The lesson, today, is no longer about history, but about shots – how does one film these landscapes? A strange mixture this time. Love is inseparable from the awareness of beauty, and hate remains (almost constantly) off-screen in order to watch over what this, possibly guilty, beauty doesn’t invade. The Griffithian feeling about nature is no longer what surrounds a Renoirian inscription of bodies. Here, it goes further. It is possible that the next Straub and Huillet film will be taken from a real novel.


                        Jean-Claude Biette, Cahiers du Cinéma, 1982

Archive