March 10, 2004
60s and shorts
In a piece for Slate that touches on Bertolucci's The Dreamers, Danger Mouse's Grey Album and a few other books and movies, Ted Widmer writes:
Certain years stand out for world-shaping events (2001; 1963), and others, more rare, for a feeling that our DNA itself is changing, and an alternative universe of human possibility is coming into view, if only for a brief, tantalizing moment. 1848 was such a year, and 1968 had the same electric quality.... Thirty-six years later, the blurry events of '68 are coming back into focus, more vividly than one might expect.
And if you consider that specific year as a vortex, a flashpoint at which several forces suddenly coalesced out of the history before it to warp history after it, all these years on down the line, you can easily tick off a few other signs of what's in the air. Docs like The Weather Underground and The Fog of War; and specifically related to film, J Hoberman's The Dream Life: Movies, Media and the Mythology of the Sixties and the evidently weaker British counterpart, Peter Cowie's Revolution! The Explosion of World Cinema in the 60s.
There's also the return of Che Guevara, at least on the screen. Terrence Malick was to have made a film based on his last days with Benicio Del Toro in the lead, but as Variety is reporting (and linkables like Ananova are passing on), that project's been shelved for a year while Malick shoots a biopic of Pocahontas instead.
But Malick's film would have been the fourth Che movie in relatively rapid succession. The first, of course, is Walter Salles's The Motorcycle Diaries, which made a splash at Sundance and then news in Berlin for getting yanked out of the fest in favor of a spot in Cannes. The second, Gianni Mina's Travelling with Che Guevara (here's a PDF file with more info), is a doc, a sort of "making of" on the first but also has "a sense of Chinese boxes" about it, as Geoffrey Macnab wrote a few weeks ago in his Guardian profile of Alberto Granado, the biologist who took that famous bike ride with Che. The film retells that story, in a way, while peeking in on the progress of Salles's fictional account. The third is Romano Scavolini's Che: The Last Hours, which Macnab's also seen:
Guevara's war against injustice ended on a grim and squalid note in October 1967 at a school house in La Higuera, a poverty-stricken village in Bolivia... When the order came to execute him, none of the Bolivian soldiers was willing to take on the job. Eventually, a sergeant who wanted the money, and who was determined to prove he was not a coward, agreed to carry out the assassination. He was so drunk that his colleagues recall him vomiting outside the school house before he went in to shoot Guevara.
[...]
Nowadays, as Camillo [Guevara, Che's son] acknowledges, Che Guevara is a pop culture icon whose image is as ubiquitous as that of Elvis or Madonna. [Cough.] "People love the myth of Che Guevara and to have T-shirts, hats and posters in their room, but they don't respect the integrity of what he did. They don't really know the story. I'd love that they understood who he was... he was not a model."
But the attraction is there - quite possibly because we've come to realize that we've let ourselves slip into a state of stifling conformity and that there are - in the other sense of the word - models to look back to, possibly holding clues to how we might slap ourselves back into action again.
"For the past two nights the cinetrix has been rolling around in some of the 1960s most acclaimed cinema." On the program: Blow-Up and Cléo de 5 à 7:
So many convertibles! So many beautiful young women and hip, artistic young men! Such a preening overawareness of themselves as films in conversation with other films and genre and style conventions. It was great.
But really, I want to talk about three things: the pastoral, loft life, and - quelle surprise - music.
Also, the cinetrix has been following this whole movieoke thing forever; in the New York Times, Randy Kennedy catches up.
Back, generally speaking, to the 60s: "Auteur of the notorious Flaming Creatures, performance artist before such a term existed, photographer of unlikely incandescences, "the Alfred Jarry of the East Village," [Jack] Smith died without a will in 1989." So you'd expect his legacy to be up in the air; but as C Carr reports in the Village Voice, it's far worse than that. Also in the Voice:
Not much has made it online from the March/April issue of Film Comment, but still:
Posted by dwhudson at March 10, 2004 12:02 PM
Comments
I'm glad you mentioned J Hoberman's book The Dream Life: Movies, Media and the Mythology of the Sixties. It's one of those books that is breathtaking in its implications. Hoberman makes astute observations and connections between the cinema and world order in the 60's.
Posted by: Matt at March 10, 2004 1:40 PMI can't believe the Guardian has apparently only just noticed the BFI's Silent Shakespeare, given that the BFI only released the bloody thing five years ago.
Posted by: James Russell at March 10, 2004 7:58 PM




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