Cineste

Including the current film, there are 25 movie/TV adaptations of Emily Bronte's magnificent novel Wuthering Heights. I know of no other literary work that even approximates that astounding number of adaptations. And Emily's descendants receive not one red penny or pence in compensation, though they do have the distinct pleasure of enjoying the litany of fame their brilliant ancestor has bequeathed them.

 The storyline is analogically about the current situation in the U.S. - which is no doubt why it's popular - woven together with a father-daughter relationship storyline and a perversely humourist secondary plot line featuring Penn. But it is an ackingly didactic film that leaves little or no room for the viewer, in my judgment.

Warner Bros. produced The African Queen, for which Humphrey Bogart finally got the Oscar he deserved. And they are the Hollywood studio that produced perhaps the greatest Hollywood sound stage film in history, Casablanca, also with Bogart in an iconic role.

A beautiful example of the great collaborative art of studio made films. In many ways that art is more significant than location shooting. An intriguing storyline,magnificent performances, astounding support and extras casting, production design, set decoration, extraordinary lighting and cinematography, brilliant direction, fabulous editing, a great script with love and humour, and an incredibly effective sound score. This film is perfect in so many ways. And in 1941, besides Casablanca, WB made 49 other films.

The opportunity to batch watch contributes to this profoundly disturbing phenomenon, undermining one of the greatest cultural practices the entire world has ever known.

I might also add that the release of a given film first in a theatre has become a mere marketing strategy either to promote the upcoming stream to qualify for an award or to boost sales.

The Worse Kind of Kindness: Kinds of Kindness

It's got four of my favourite actors - a fact that accords its worthiness immediately, and each gives a superb performance. Nevertheless, it's an emotionally challenging film.

Kinds of Kindness is a triptych of horror - sometimes violent, sometimes subtle - and disturbing comedy, and the discordant piano and choral moments contribute significantly to the brooding sense of unease that all three narratives generate.

Interesting that the Golden Globes slotted The Substance into the Comedy/Musical category. I suppose I can understand that, for it is over the top in terms of gore and "action" sequences. I think it's a bit predictable too in that we know that the two selves are bound to fall out. It's not really satire either, for it mocks the fame and beauty game and TV producers, but it doesn't do so to inspire a remodeling. It's pure invective. "Food" is an interesting recurring visual in that regard.

Black Doves is not your usual espionage tale. It has a tantalizing story twist, and it's well paced in its unfolding of the psychological and moral complexities of the two main characters played by Kiera Knightly and Ben Whishaw - both through the experiences of their individual lives and their interactions with each other.  Each gives a surprisingly strong performance.

Nothing startling in terms of cinematic practice but well edited with effective shot selections, especially the tight facial shots that reveal emotion.

The series is laced with a considerable amount of humour, frequently in the action sequences. Black Doves is not at all sophisticated, but it is entertaining. It will be interesting to see where it goes in Season 2.

From the getgo, we are warned to “Beware of narrative and form." That's essentially what this series is about.

We have several different voiceovers, two of which are anonymous, and multiple visual narratives that accompany them. Which one of them or do any of them render the truth? In what ways do narrative and form determine truth, and what role does the reader/viewer play in that process? if Catherine's forceful rendition of her right to be heard rendition of events is "the truth," why is it so in contrast to the other narratives? Is it the way she tells her story or the fact that it is she who is telling it or the fact that it is the last full narrative and that we as readers/viewers have been invited to sympathize with her throughout the first six episodes?  There are multiple ways to read this extraordinaily interrogative series.

There is no given meaning in any text - linguistic, visual, or audio. We construct meaning, and each of us does so differently. However, if the answer to all the questions I ask about Catherine's narrative is yes, rhetorical conditions can persuade us about what we might determine is "the truth."

A few other items of note to ponder:

The paintings on the ceiling are different in the two Jonathan encounters with Catherine, and in the latter, there is no voiceover or dialogue. 

The performances are exceptional, especially because of the long takes.

Notice the use of the transition wipe in the first Jonathan episode, a very noticeable transition used frequently in silent film. Its foregrounding asks us to see this episode as a “movie,” a fiction.

The telephone conversations with Sasha's mother suggest that what we thought was "real" in the opening sequence with Jonathan and Sasha may not be real, and is there a voice-over or narrator for that sequence? Once again, a questioning of narrative and form.

Notice how mood jaring two particular moments are: when the police constable suggests tea 30 seconds just after Stephen and his wife have been told about their son's death, and Catherine's assistant's remark about how Catherine will be "so cancelled" now after her encounter with her superior and the exposure of the revelations in Nancy's "fiction" to Catherine's coworkers.

Aside from the superb casting in Rebel Ridge, especially Aaron Pierre,* other notable features of the film are worth mentioning. Where one might expect lethal shootouts, we have non-lethal  weapons and smoke bombs in the gun scenes from our protagonist. Where we have been conditioned to expect superbly choreographed fight scenes in such a plot line, we have “real,” sloppy fight scenes. And where we certainly might anticipate a full-blown romantic relationship between Terry and Summer, we have deep friendship instead. We might also expect racism to raise its ugly head, but there is no overt, articulated racism even though it is a powerful subtext throughout almost every scene. Serpico's real identity is also a surprise - to Terry and the viewer. And where we would expect full closure, we get only a degree of closure accompanied by an ending open enough for viewers to construct any full closure we might wish to imagine.

Exploring Saulnier's strategy of mocked expectations** here for meaning is an exploration worth undertaking. Check this creative entertaining film out on Netflix.

*Pierre's screen presence here is magnetic: you can't keep your eyes off him. Saulnier obviously recognizes this power as an abundance of closeups and tight medium shots on Pierre testifies.