Squeamish British sound engineer Toby Jones arrives in Italy to work on a movie called The Equestrian Vortex, not realizing it’s an extra-bloody horror film. Supposedly he was hired because the film’s director Santini holds him in high regard, but nobody else in the studio could care less, and his requests meet with blank stares and insults, as over the weeks of work he gets more shaken by the company and his work stabbing and snapping vegetables as torture-foley.

Like the 1970’s and 80’s Italian horrors Berberian claims to be recreating (we never see a scrap of footage from the film-in-a-film except its opening titles), this movie cares much more about atmosphere than anything else, and does a great job creating that through image and sound. With Jones playing a foley artist and sound recorder, they knew we’d be paying close attention to the soundtrack, and it’s wonderful. But while the Argento and Fulci movies have overstuffed but ultimately empty stories submerged in their gothic atmosphere, this one mostly dispenses with story and lets its atmosphere do all the talking. In fact, they seem to have forgotten to give the movie an ending. It has a neat build-up, as Toby’s letters from home bleed into his work, a story of a birdnest rampage paralleled in the inner film’s carnage and in editing-room chaos after a wronged actress takes out her frustration upon the audiotapes, but then it peters out after that.

Very nice touch that sound equipment is activated by a black gloved hand in close-up. Shot by Nic Knowland (Institute Benjamenta, Piano Tuner of Earthquakes). I must find Strickland’s earlier feature, a Romanian revenge drama.

“That’s the sickness that comes from thinking about film.”

Some notes I took:

He cuts up some woman and puts her body in a trunk. On a train, a man tells stories about a mysterious rider with a companion speaking to him from inside a small suitcase.
Mentions of Grenada and Marrakesh
Middle-east parody?
Communicating by dance
Protagonist tends to wail
The subtitled part is the movie our protag is watching
White-robe is the Sailor? from Three Crowns? Yes he is.
Very good string music, reminiscent of Three Crowns
Protag has no memories.

Some of this will be wrong, and much will be left out. I will happily watch the movie again, hopefully from some glorious high-res copy released in the future, not a fan-subtitled compressed file made from a two-decades-old beta videotape.

To start with, our guy gets a job at a movie theater. “The films we projected, I never knew who chose them, but I think that nothing that was shown was ever watched.” He and erratic coworker Kasim sleep in the projection booth, living there with Kasim’s girlfriend Fatima. Our guy meets an unknown uncle, then an unknown nephew, then goes on a journey (see note above about cutting up and trunking some poor woman).

Suddenly: “Here begins the story of Aba Yahyar ibn Abu Bakhra as recounted by Ibn Abas may it please Allah”. A riddle-spouting djinn sets a crazily fake-bearded young man searching for his crazy uncles, then he finds the “seven sleepers of ephesus” inside a giant mouth (flashback to the giant teeth in City of Pirates). Also, twin brothers (“the only thing that distinguished them was that one drank more water”) love the same woman. Took me a while to realize that all this is the film-within-the-film.

Bearded man seeks uncle:

Giant teeth:

Back in the projection booth, Fatima eats and drinks sound and images by grabbing them off the projector beam with her hand, and our guy gets into a bloody fight with Kasim. Back in the inner film, more uncles and twins starts to jumble together. “Thus I discovered I no longer needed to watch the film. Henceforth, it would be part of me. I would see it projected on the walls of my room, on the face of my nephew and on the sheets of my bed. I could discern it in a dog’s bark, a man’s groan or a bird’s song, all of them telling me one grand tale of my two fathers, my two uncles and my mother, the dancer.”

Sailor:

The Sailor says he collects the decapitated heads of thieves, shows off his heads and one removed eye to Rosalia (the inner film’s fascinating mystery woman). Back at the theater, our protagonist comes to some final realization (“I’ve never had any memories, and in the space of that day I had aged some fifty years”) and leaves the building, ghostlike.

From (the only) IMDB review:

So not a fiction film but about fiction, immortal stories without particular author or answer, that always seem to begin by their narrator with “I heard a story”…

Based partly on a Persian novel by Sadegh Hedayat. A plot summary of the 1975 film version sounds twisty and surreal, and almost nothing like the Ruiz version except that it involves a young man fixated on a memory of a glimpsed “ethereal” woman.

Hard to tell which actors played whom, but Jean-François Lapalus is the lead, and Jessica Forde (star of Rohmer’s Four Adventures of Reinette and Mirabelle) was in there somewhere.

Maybe right here:

“It is at once an enormous joke and a cosmic, existential work on the human condition.” There’s little writing on this obscure Ruiz feature online, but Rouge has published an essential Luc Moullet piece.

Watched this because Rivers is one of Cinema Scope’s 50 Under 50, and because I get him confused with Ben Russell. Rivers thanks Russell in the credits, and when this opened with the long follow-cam on a man trudging through snow I had to remind myself again that this was a different Ben. Now I hear they’ve got a collaborative film in the works. Think I’m gonna keep getting them confused.

Sometimes I don’t know how much advance reading I should do before watching a movie. In this case I did none at all, and was annoyed and bored through most of the movie, thinking it a pretentious, wordless pseudo-doc about a beardy hippie-turned-survivalist, but I retroactively appreciated it upon reading that it’s a real doc about a real hippie-turned-survivalist. So, after Mekong Hotel, this is the second movie I’ve watched this week that I didn’t realize was supposed to be (at least partly) a documentary.

I also appreciate the movie’s utility in putting me to sleep about three times while I had the flu.

Especially during this scene:

The physical film (on my digital copy) lets itself be known through flicker, grain and the occasional messy edit. Whole thing is blurry and indistinct, with a Begotten-processed feel. Natural sound with occasional Indian-sounding music plus one folky song.

Seattle Weekly:

The hand-cranking accounts for the wavering of light and shifting tempo of motion within shots; the homemade processing accounts for the amoeba-like chemical puckers that dapple the image. The lone, almost expeditionary nature of Rivers’ operation matches his involuted subjects, for his is a cinema of privileged moments and stubbornly private people.

Sometimes seems like the documentary equivalent of The Turin Horse, with even the same ending, as a campfire burns out and the scene is gradually enveloped by darkness. But let’s not overuse the word “documentary” here. A half hour in, while the man sleeps, his trailer ascends into the treetops – then stays there, with no explanation. Reminds me of the random rocketship/tightrope scenes in Still Life, but more well-integrated.

Rivers explains the title: “Jake is seen in all seasons, surviving frugally, passing the time with strange projects, living the radical dream he had as a younger man, a dream he spent two years working at sea to realise.”

H. Guest:

Rivers’ major works include a series of hypnotic films – This Is My Land (2006), The Origin of the Species (2008), I Know Where I’m Going (2009) and Two Years at Sea (2011) – that offer sumptuously cinematographic portraits of extraordinary lives lived out of time, lands stubbornly resistant to the turn of the century. Featuring ragged self-made men living in worlds entirely of their own creation, Rivers’ quartet, like Costa’s Fontainhas trilogy, gives cinematic form to the private visions and incantatory fantasies of untethered characters who have floated far from the known mainland. … They reveal Rivers’ neo-Romantic search for a kind of sublime, for lives defined by the danger of rapturous annihilation by a vast indifferent Nature.

Weird and delightful movie with a Gang of Four/Va Savoir feel, but more so, made with the usual suspects: Pascal Bonitzer and Christine Laurent on script and Nicole Lubtchansky editing, plus Christophe Pollock (Class Relations, In Praise of Love) shooting.

We follow three women: Louise (Marianne Denicourt of La Belle Noiseuse), Ninon (Nathalie Richard, “Madame” in Never Let Me Go, also Irma Vep), and Ida (Laurence Côte of Gang of Four). Louise just got out of a hosiptal of some sort and inherited a house from her aunt. Ninon has short blonde hair, works in moped delivery. An hour in, both of them have met Roland (Andre Marcon, king in Joan the Maid), a slightly mysterious (but not too mysterious – he runs a business making theater sets down the street) stalker who knew Louise’s dead aunt and has knowledge of a secret club (of course he does). But the club really exists, and seems honestly sinister, and I’m impressed that Rivette has finally given in to his secret-society teases (though come to think of it, the one in Don’t Touch The Axe was pretty effective), but then it turns out to be kind of a joke. Meanwhile Ida just creeps about, or sits at her library job trying to remember the title of a song in her head.

A girl (Louise) and a gun:

Intrigue: Louise has a stalker, actually a bodyguard named Lucien (Bruno Todeschini, thief of Va Savoir) hired by her dad. Ninon steals cash from work and gets away with it, though her coworker who was manning the register gets fired. Roland has secret papers proving that Louise’s dad is a crook. There seems to be a lot of wordplay that isn’t translating in the subtitles. And halfway through, the movie becomes a musical!

Ninon and Louise find something to dance about:

The girls visit a nightclub called Backstage, where Vivre Sa Vie star Anna Karina is a singer (and Ninon is an electrifying dancer). It’s here that Louise gets pulled into the secret club, where she is chosen to kill another member, then given a gun filled with blanks. Bodyguard Lucien is falling for Louise, Ninon is involved with Roland, and Ida has a weird connection with Anna Karina – I’m afraid I missed the point of Ida’s role besides the joy of watching Laurence Côte. Actually that might have been the point of the entire film.

Adrian Martin on the first musical number: “Haut bas fragile is about the dream of everyday life metamorphosing – via only the slightest nudges of stylisation – into the idealised realm of art, and specifically popular-musical art. Rivette’s films, with their obsessive walkers and mannered talkers, have frequently circled this moment of ignition, but here he goes all the way: love expresses itself in ironic, playful postures and swooning falls.”

J. Rosenbaum:

All three actresses created their own characters – a procedure Rivette also followed in Out 1 and Celine and Julie Go Boating. And just as Jean-Pierre Léaud and Juliet Berto are solitaires in Out 1 and Julie is one in Celine and Julie before she meets Celine, Ida in Up Down Fragile might be described as someone who’d like to be in a musical but can’t because she doesn’t yet know who she is. The adopted daughter of provincial parents whose letters she doesn’t answer, she’s obsessed with fantasies about who her real mother might be and with tracking down a song from her early childhood, of which she remembers only fragments. (Eventually her obsession leads to a meeting with Sarah, a cabaret singer, played by Anna Karina, whom we’ve already seen in scenes with Ninon and Louise.) Narratively and musically, Ida’s in a perpetual state of becoming – the only creature to whom she’s attached is a cat. Meanwhile the other lines in the fugue are the processes by which Ninon and Louise acquire romance and friendship and thereby work their way into musical numbers, all of them various kinds of duets.

A rare director cameo:

June 2024: Watched again in HD. Some points I’d forgotten: Ida is sad that she doesn’t know who her parents are, and Roland is trying to hide the fact that Louise’s dad is a scumbag.

Lately… Nathalie Richard became a Michael Haneke regular, then a Bertrand Mandico regular, costarring in his new Conann movie… Marianne Denicourt was in a bunch by Claude Lelouch and an Agatha Christie miniseries by the Martyrs guy… Laurence Côte was just in a Virginie Efira identical twins melodrama that played Cannes… and we’re still mad at André Marcon for leaving Isabelle Huppert in Things to Come.

1. Holy Motors (Leos Carax)
2. Margaret (Kenneth Lonergan)
3. This is Not a Film (Jafar Panahi)
4. Cabin in the Woods (Drew Goddard)
5. Wreck-It Ralph (Rich Moore)
6. Cosmopolis (David Cronenberg)
7. Moonrise Kingdom (Wes Anderson)
8. Keyhole (Guy Maddin)
9. Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Nuri Bilge Ceylan)
10. Prometheus (Ridley Scott)

Honorable mentions go to Looper, God Bless America and Mission: Impossible 4

Late-breaking unranked addition: Tabu

Best 3D of the year: Pina (Wim Wenders)

1. The Flowers of St. Francis (1950, Roberto Rossellini)
Currently my favorite Italian movie.

2. Three Crowns of the Sailor (1983, Raoul Ruiz)
3. Two by Manoel de Oliveira: Inquietude (1998) and Non, or the Vainglory of Command (1990)
Ruiz and Oliveira continually outdo each other, depending whose films I’ve watched more recently.

4. Alain Resnais double-feature: Smoking/No Smoking (1993)
Or maybe it’s a single feature – either way.

5. World on a Wire (1973, Rainer Fassbinder)

6. Apocalpyse double-feature: Take Shelter (2011, Jeff Nichols) and Last Night (1998, Don McKellar)
Both are haunting end-of-the-world movies, but Last Night is so much less depressing.

7. Dogtooth (2009, Giorgos Lanthimos)
8. Lisztomania (1975, Ken Russell)

9. Nights of Cabiria (1957, Federico Fellini)
10. Saga of Anatahan (1954, Josef von Sternberg)

11. World’s Greatest Dad (2009, Bobcat Goldthwait)
12. Nouvelle Vague (1990, Jean-Luc Godard)
Currently my favorite Godard movie ever – will see how that opinion holds up.

13. Japanese Summer: Double Suicide (1967, Nagisa Oshima)
14. Daisies (1966, Vera Chytilová)
15. The Lady Vanishes (1938, Alfred Hitchcock)
I cringe to see this at the bottom of my own list since it’s so good, but it was a great year.

Also great: The Scarlet Empress, Symbol, Black Sun, Earth, Tiny Furniture, Super, Walkabout and Metropolitan.

1. Shanghai Express on 35mm at Emory
Lovely to see on the big screen, right at the peak of my home-video Sternberg obsession.

2. Craig Baldwin’s Living Cinema on Edgewood
My favorite filmmakers should come to town projecting crazy culture-jamming shorts more often.

3. Sherlock Jr. and Melies-related shorts at Emory
Hugo-inspired program with live music, including a singalong.

4. The Killing in HD at the Plaza

5. A Midsummer Night’s Dream on 35mm at Emory

6. Pixar double-feature of Wall-E and Up at Phipps
These were reissued to theaters in beautiful 2D, but they forgot to advertise so Katy and I are the only ones who went.

7. Beau Travail on 35mm at Emory
Of course the White Material screening was more exciting for being introduced by Claire Denis herself, but I’d seen it before – Beau Travail was all new to me – exciting and gorgeous on the big screen, featuring a condescending post-film discussion.

8. Miyazaki double-feature at the Belcourt
A weekday afternoon in Nashville watching Disney-dubbed Japanese movies in a theater sparesely filled with children and childlike adults.

1. Glas (1958, Bert Haanstra)
I thought this and Rotterdam Europoort were completely amazing, then I watched each again. This one became more amazing and Rotterdam less.

2. Very / Night Mulch (2001, Stan Brakhage)
You can’t beat Brakhage on the big screen.

3. Walker (2012, Tsai Ming-liang)
4. Partysaurus Rex (2012, Mark Walsh)
These were, respectively, the slowest and fastest shorts of the year.

5. Poetic Justice (1972, Hollis Frampton)
6. Lost Buildings (2004, Chris Ware & Ira Glass)

7. Ako (1964, Hiroshi Teshigahara)
8. The Eraser (1977, Shuji Terayama)

9. Fantasmagorie (1908, Emile Cohl) and 78 Tours (1985, Georges Schwizgebel)
Two unrelated animations, lifetimes apart, featuring lots of things morphing into other things.

10. The Wholly Family (2011, Terry Gilliam)

Movies by directors I follow:

Amour (Michael Haneke)
Ashes (Apichatpong Weerasethakul)
Bernie (Richard Linklater)
Django Unchained (Quentin Tarantino)
Gebo and the Shadow (Manoel de Oliveira)
John Dies at the End (Don Coscarelli)
Like Someone In Love (Abbas Kiarostami)
Lords of Salem (Rob Zombie)
Lines of Wellington (Valeria Sarmiento)
La Noche de Enfrente (Raoul Ruiz)
On Death Row (Werner Herzog)
Outrage Beyond (Takeshi Kitano)
Passion (Brian De Palma)
Something in the Air (Olivier Assayas)
To the Wonder (Terrence Malick)
Twixt (Francis Ford Coppola)
You Ain’t See Nothin’ Yet (Alain Resnais)

Other ones that look great:

The ABCs of Death (anthology)
Cloud Atlas (Wachowskis & Tom Tykwer)
The Dictator (Larry Charles)
Les Miserables (Tom Hooper)
ParaNorman (Chris Butler & Sam Fell)
Room 237 (Rodney Ascher)
Sightseers (Ben Wheatley)

Critical faves:

Argo (Ben Affleck)
Barbara (Christian Petzold)
Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin)
Berberian Sound Studio (Peter Strickland)
Bestiaire (Denis Cote)
Beyond the Hills (Cristian Mungiu)
In Another Country (Hong Sang-soo)
Killer Joe (William Friedkin)
Last Time I Saw Macao (João Pedro Rodrigues & João Rui Guerra da Mata)
Leviathan (Castaing-Taylor & Paravel)
Lincoln (Steven Spielberg)
The Loneliest Planet (Julia Loktev)
Mud (Jeff Nichols)
Neighbouring Sounds (Kleber Mendonca Filho)
No (Pablo Larrain)
Rust & Bone (Jacques Audiard)
Stories We Tell (Sarah Polley)
Zero Dark Thirty (Kathryn Bigelow)