La Jetée

Ridley Scott's long involvement in filmed science fiction has resulted in a complex corpus of work; Alien (1979) and Blade Runner (1982) are properly regarded as masterworks of the genre, but the long gap leading to the problematic Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017) has raised questions about his track record. With Raised by Wolves (2020-2022) we see Scott directing key episodes of this HBO streaming television series and applying his eye to a distinctively weird combination of story, character, and visual elements. Is it a success in spite of its reception and eventual cancellation? This installment looks at the pilot episode of the series, as directed by Scott, to help answer that question.

One of the most famous short pictures of all time, Chris Marker's La Jetée (1962) combines still images and documentary techniques to create a haunting and beautiful film which has served as an inspiration for many later filmmakers, most notably Terry Gilliam via Twelve Monkeys (1995) which reworked Marker's story to tragicomic effect. A condemned prisoner is sent backwards in time by scientists hoping to secure the future of humanity by mining the past. As condensed into one of the marketing loglines for the Gilliam film, the future is history.

Although considered a critical and financial disappointment, this 2018 motion picture by Fede Álvarez serves as an interesting example of the importance of timing; the 2011 offering by David Fincher -The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - was well-received by critics and moviegoers alike, but the silence that followed and the eventual decision to reboot the property with new actors may have doomed any effort to continue Lisbeth Salander's story. An emphasis on technology-as-magic and elaborate action set-pieces did not help matters. However, the 2018 reboot has several points of interest, not the least being the subtle performance of Claire Foy in the title role, and the ambiance of Sweden in deep winter.

In this long edition of SHORTS we discuss and debate for nearly the duration of a full length commentary. Jules: More characters, more locations, more worms, more desert, and more engagement with themes of mass mind control and the metaphysics of destiny. DUNE may be Denis Villeneuve's dream project, but has it become his waking nightmare? David: And speaking of dreams, why does the Fremen one based on myths and faith keep coming true, while the smarter-than-thou Bene Gesserit one based on calculations, manipulations and unholy trysts keeps turning out wrong? Who's trolling who in the Dune-iverse? Meanwhile this dream franchise grows apace, drawing a sparse narrative from its dense source text, leaving space for sensorial nuance, albeit often at the expense of logic.

Jules: Roman Polanski's least controversial film may be one of his densest when it comes to themes and messaging. Based upon a subplot of Arturo Pérez-Reverte's 1993 novel The Club Dumas, Polanski plays out a love affair with books, their physicality, and their mystery. Johnny Depp's muted Dean Corso encounters the gamut of Polanskian caricatures, from the mephistophelian Frank Langella, the vampish Lena Olin, and the angelic Emmanuelle Seigner.  David: Unlike the claustrophobic Rosemary's Baby before it, Polanski's second dance with the devil sees its protagonist cross the Atlantic to Mediterranean-adjacent lands, seeking to unravel the antics of an occult book club whose members, some unwittingly, compete for an audience with the devil. As a mysterious tome purportedly penned by the dark lord himself occupies the hero's attention, and its pages begin not only to echo but also presage unfolding events, does he himself stand to win the race or become merely hapless prey?

The inaugural episode of Overlooked SHORTS. Ironically focussing on one of the longest feature films in recent memory, Jules and David literally phone it in with a short commentary whilst not watching the movie. David recalls and Jules interrogates, surveying the technological innovations, the water, whales, wokeness and 3D wonders of Avatar: The Way of Water.

David: Each manifestation of Dune, including Frank Herbert's 1965 novel, can be viewed as a product of its time. Dune (2021) appears sanitised to accomodate the social and geopolitical tensions of the 21st Century. It's also a different take on the huge weight of world-building detail in the novel and the choice whether to cram it into a movie or leave most of it out. Here we set out to cram some back in for you. Jules: Is the tragedy of DUNE (2021) the same as the tragedy of DUNE (1984), namely that the best film of Frank Herbert's 1965 novel was David Lean's 1962 Lawrence of Arabia?

Jules: Do we deceive ourselves when we attempt to distinguish the sacred from the carnal? A small film made in a small village in a small (for Scandinavia) country seeks answers, as do we. David: When a fortress of encrusted ascetic piety and propriety suffers an unexpected incursion of fabulous french cuisine, something more than its inhabitants' impoverished taste buds cracks open. Rather than the conflict against which the god-fearing community steels itself, Babette's state-of-the-art feast triggers a cathartic synthesis of sensory and spiritual joy, to the great elevation of all concerned. 

David: The perenniality of the vampire genre derives from its capacity for reinvention. Its form mimics its content in similar fashion to the zombie genre, transcending death. Here, the immortality of Jarmusch's vampire couple is a perfect foil for retrophile hipsterism. They are aficionados of a lapsed cutting edge – analog technologies, first edition guitars, a dash of Tesla tech for colour and in the garage is a perfectly-poised-between-eras XJS Jaguar. They disdain contemporary ephemera and are content to await its fall. Only Lovers Left Alive takes its time. It may irritate some but bewitch others, who will return to bask in its sunless, bohemian langour. Jules: Are vampire tropes a means or an end? Is the grand tradition of vampire fiction standing for nothing other than itself? Is it a debasement of said grand tradition to use vampirism as a metaphor, for themes like drug addiction, sexual obsession, metal illness, or mere aristocratic fecklessness? Or can a vampire picture possibly be nothing more than a cosy suburban story of rekindled love between senior citizens? The beautifully titled Only Lovers Left Alive ponders and enacts these and other questions to a delightful and confounding conclusion.

Jules: Alain Resnais' and Alain Robbe-Grillet's L'année dernière à Marienbad has astonished viewers for six decades and counting. Who, or what, are 'A - la femme brune' (Delphine Seyrig), 'X - l'homme à l'accent italien' (Giorgio Albertazzi, and 'M - l'autre homme au visage maigre, le mari' (Sacha Pitoëff), and is this landmark of world cinema merely a film, or an initiatory experience akin to a rite of passage? David: This film, both modern is its experimentation and postmodern in its self-reference, provides a meandering dream-like experience of unresolved narrative, unanswered questions, effects divorced from causes and a frustrating, potentially infuriating trap for the unwary viewer.