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Melancholia / Double Indemnity

Melancholia (2011) dir. Lars von Trier

Double Indemnity (1944) dir. Billy Wilder

I watched von Trier's much anticipated Melancholia with a robust Friday night crowd of geriatric cineastes at Rochester's prized Little Theater, a great place see movies in this grey corner of New York.  Along with being one of the few theaters in town to still project celluloid and offer an alternative program from the traditional multiplex, I like the venue because it draws comforting parallels to a couple of cinemas on the home front: Sarasota's Burns Court and Miami's O Cinema (two institutions that deserve your support and patronage).  Sentimentalities aside, the best part of my viewing experience came at the very end of the film, when a male voice from the back of the theater exclaimed "THANK GOD" as the credits began to roll. I awkwardly chuckled to myself; I mean, what a strange, somewhat abrasive thing to shout at the credits of a movie. That being said, I like how ambiguous his comment is: what exactly are you thankful for, sir? (and, of course, this was the day after Thanksgiving).  


A cinema-lover's knee-jerk reaction might be to turn his or her nose up at such an outburst.  Clearly, this guy just doesn't get it or was plain bored by Melancholia's visual poetics and profound themes.  Maybe he was drunk.  Maybe he was predisposed to smiting the film after von Trier's idiotic Nazi comments at Cannes this year.  Maybe, just maybe, he was simply thrilled with the way the story ended.  Imagine other beloved film endings evoking such a reaction from their audiences: E.T. gets back on his spaceship, "THANK GOD"; the Death Star blows up, "THANK GOD";  Ilsa gets on the last plane out of Casablanca, "THANK GOD." Our critic's response points to a strong, complex, and at times seemingly visceral connection between the projected image and an audience, a throwback to the shock and terror mythology of the earliest cinematic audiences.  However one chooses to interpret this episode, we ultimately confront the social and cultural significance of the cinematheque that his comment draws out: we gain an experience lost on the home video market and muted by the digital streams of the internet.


And I don't think I'm just being overly romantic here, either.  If anything, it seems more a reaffirmation of the empirical realities of leaving your house, buying a ticket, and sitting in a big dark room with other people, sharing time and space.  At the most fundamental phenomenological and discursive levels, it's different; different in a way that actively shapes how one sees a film, how one sees all Film.  My good friend Lindsey pointed me to an article in The New Yorker that touches on this subject.  Go here for more of that discussion.


Musings on the theater aside, as I rode my bicycle home from Melancholia I almost wrecked on a police car, a combination effort of the cop's shitty middle-of-the-street parking job and some asshole in a BMW trying to needle through a traffic jam.  As I swerved to avoid the on-coming headlights, black and white images of cars traveling down dark alleyways flashed in my mind.  These images populate and thrive in film noir, a grouping of films I haven't really thought about in quite some time.  I suppose that's only partially true considering that I recently watched Sunset Boulevard on a whim and, not seeing it since high school, was happy to reconnect with it.  This brush with bodily harm/nerdy reminiscence coupled with Rochester's less-than-friendly attitude toward cyclists made Double Indemnity a welcome nightcap after Melancholia.  A great (near) collision if there ever was one.  

Hedwig and the Angry Itch / The Andromeda Strain

Hedwig and the Angry Itch (2001) dir. John Cameron Mitchell

The Andromeda Strain (1971) dir. Robert Wise

This unlikely pairing was pure happenstance, which seems to make it all the more enjoyable.  I caught Hedwig at ImageOut, Rochester's annual festival of queer cinematic delights, and finally got around to watching The Andromeda Strain after my first attempt while working at Video Rodeo was interrupted by a distracting amount of pizza, beer, and friendly visits.  Visually striking but moving along a patient, science-driven narrative, Wise's apocalyptic epic demands your full attention.  On the other hand, Hedwig should only be viewed in the company of loud, drunk friends who don't mind singing along.  This transgender punk-opera is in the same camp as Rocky Horror, but, for my money, takes the musical elements to a catchier, freakier level.  The cultural landscapes of East Germany and Middle America glow in this film, complemented by the scathing riffs and soothing ballads offered up by The Angry Itch.  It's a lullaby for your stable sexuality.  

Dune / THX 1138

Dune (1984) dir. David Lynch

 THX 1138 (1971) dir. George Lucas

I really enjoyed watching this pair because each film touches a very distinct corner of science-fiction.  Lynch develops the mythos of Dune with techo-surrealist imagery that often bleeds into the grotesque.  The dystopian sterility of THX 1138 counterpoints this ethereal vision by planting the viewer on much firmer (read: foreboding) ground.  Plus, you get to see what George Lucas was doing before Star Wars ate the world.

Rebecca / Lolita

Rebecca (1940) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

 Lolita (1962) dir. Stanley Kubrick

A strong pair of leading ladies, even though,**spoiler alert** you never actually see the titular Rebecca. She is, however, terrifyingly present. Peter Sellers probably plays the strongest character in Lolita besides Sue Lyon whose career seemed to peak with this film.  I'll always associate this double feature with a special someone. Try it with a person like that.

Wake of the Red Witch / Through a Glass Darkly

Wake of the Red Witch (1948) dir. Edward Ludwig

Through a Glass Darkly (1961) dir. Ingmar Bergman

John Wayne plays an alcoholic, heartbroken, but inevitably likeable sea captain on-board a more subtle critique of colonial exploitation in the south Pacific. There's also a giant octopus that's probably a metaphor or something. Cut this gem with Bergman's Academy Award winner for Best Foreign Film** and you get a duel of schizoid protagonists that won't disappoint.

**This award most recently went to Dogtooth, an agreeably unsettling family drama/science-fiction/black comedy from Giorgos Lanthimos.

Crimes and Misdemeanors / Blow-Up

Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) dir. Woody Allen

 Blow-Up (1966) dir. Michelangelo Antonioni

Two colorful ways men find themselves entangled in murder