International Cinema Thursday: Mountain Patrol and How I Spent the End of the World

Two films you need to see this week are Cum mi-am petrecut sfârşitul lumii (How I Spent the End of the World) and 可可西里 (Mountain Patrol). Seriously.

Mountain Patrol is about Tibetan rangers patrolling mountain passes, attempting to protect the endangered Tibetan antelopes from fearless and ruthless poachers. The film is often commented upon for its cowboy Western feel. The atmosphere is rugged, authentic, and beautifully filmed. If anyone saw Himalaya and fell in love with the austere beauty of the Himalayan mountains, they will certainly enjoy the Romanticism of the Chinese outlaw in the hinterlands of Mountain Patrol.

How I Spent the End of the World is different beast. However, the ideas of mankind at its edge and the brutality of humanity are ever present in both works. The lines between good and evil are not as well defined in How I Spent the End of the World as they are in Mountain Patrol. However, one can easily find trace elements of national identity, the struggle for independence and security, and individuals riding the line to the edge of existence between the two.

Go. See these movies. Don't be rubes anymore.

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International Cinema Thursday: Raise the Red Lantern and Mormon Perceptions of Polygamy

There are some fantastic movies at International Cinema this week! I was going to examine La Faute à Fidel ! but everybody knows that the French aren't real communists, so why waste my time?

Just kidding. I'm focusing today on 大红灯笼高高挂 or, in lay, Raise the Red Lantern. This is mainly because I want to see how Mormons react to polygamy in other cultures.

Raise the Red Lantern is a 1991 film in Mandarin set in 1920's rural China. This is an era of warlords and much concubinage. The film concerns the four mistresses of the wealthy Master Chen and focuses on the ever-shifting power struggle within the household. There, you have the broad strokes.

Now, I want you Mormons out there to consider this: when you see this movie, how will you view the portrayal of polygamy?

Recently I read Things Fall Apart in a class taught by Prof. Cheri Earl. I brought up this point in a round-table discussion, asking the question, "As Mormons, how do we feel about polygamy in other societies?" The question kind of fell flat. This was surprising and then, immediately, not surprising. Is there even an answer to that question? Luckily, the magnanimous Prof. Earl posed the question again. There we began our discussion.

One of the first comments was that, "Well I certainly couldn't relate to it. I took it as part of the novel and moved on, much the same way that when I consider our own history, I take it as something that was simply part of the culture and move on."

Let's look, then, at two ideas:

1) Do we understand polygamy in other societies so easily because we are conditioned to view other cultures in a way that naturally assumes they will practice what we, in our society, consider abominable?

and 2) How is that we can't relate to the polygamy of our own immediate past (and present in some cases) but we can relate to, say, personal diaries of our ancestors or church leaders? Or, for that matter, the D&C? We have very close personal and emotional ties to a great portion of that part of our history, and yet, the polygamy is glossed over?

There may be no answers to these questions. They might not even be questions. But I suggest you at least see the movie and think about the questions. What else are you going to do this weekend? Go to homecoming?

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IC Thursday: Voces inocentes

Today we're discussing Voces inocentes or, in lay, Innocent Voices. The 2004 movie focuses on the militaristic uses of children in the Salvadoran Civil War. The Salvadoran Civil War was South America's second longest civil war, running from 1979-1992.

Why we should care: Well, the U.S. had a pretty big role in the Salvadoran Civil War. Under the administration of three presidents, the U.S. sent seven billion dollars to El Salvador, mostly in favor of the Salvadoran military working to put down the liberal coup. The U.S. involvement in El Salvador's internal conflict was silent until a National Guard death squad raped and killed four American nuns and a laywoman in 1980. President Carter suspended all aid, at the time, until domestic right-wing groups pressured for continued support. They won out and the U.S. resumed its dumping of money into the complicated and bloody conflict.

Why we should care even more: The movie isn't really about the war, so much as it is about the orphans and child victims of the war. Set in 1980, the same year that the issue came to the fore in the US, the movie follows Chava and his mother Kella as they fight the forces of destruction to keep their family together. The movie is a microcosm of the problem of child victimization by military conflicts. There's no way to accurately discuss this issue in a short amount of time. Suffice it to say that children have been used for militaristic purposes since the beginning of time in nearly every culture (including the U.S.! WEE!!!)

There are a few ways children are used in the military: 1) Combat soldiers. The kids, as young as 7 in Kurdistan, participate as full members of a nation or movement's standing army. This means they hold weapons, kill people, and often rape and pillage with glee.

2) Non-combat soldiers. These kids often serve as messengers, lookouts, spies, and sources of misinformation. They also serve as sexual slaves for military leaders and common soldiers.

3) Body shields. They are used as human body shields during fire fights. They are also scouts for mines.

4) Propaganda. Saddam Hussein used children as young as 10 in his Fedayeen Saddam or "Saddam's Men of Sacrifice". These were the kids with the red bandannas tied around their foreheads, holding Kalashnikovs in the Gulf War. You may have heard about them from the news; that's because they were both combat soldiers and a propaganda tactic.

As I said, this problem is far too complicated and wide-spread to state succinctly. So watch the movie. It will give you a pretty accurate account of the life of desperate families involved in wars that the United States will support but never take part of. It'll also give you a pretty good look at situations that we will never have to experience and probably feel like we don't want to think about. That's why International Cinema rules. These are more than movies. Go and be affected.

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International Cinema Thursday: Chungking Express and Russian Ark

DOUBLE FEATURE! Hey!

RUSSIAN ARK

Since pretty much everything ever has already been said about Russian Ark, let me go ahead and cite the only fact that you need to know in order to want to see it. The entire 96 minute movie is a single steadicam shot. Don't know what that means? It means that the whole movie is acted out with no cuts, shot editing, or time lapse. It's basically a sprawling, intricately choreographed play. Absolutely amazing. See it tomorrow or twice on Saturday.

CHUNGKING EXPRESS

Chungking Express is a film by Wong Kar-wai, who is to Chinese cinema what Akira Kurosawa was to Japanese cinema. It has been called one of the best Asian films of all time by Sight & Sound Quarterly.

The Chinese title (重庆森林) literally translates to "Chungking Jungle" which should instantly remind you of The Asphalt Jungle. Don't think of that though, because it's entirely different.

What you should think of is the fact that so much of this season's movies at IC are dedicated to understanding and portraying Chinese culture. Just this week is a movie about Yundi Li. Next week is From Mao to Mozart. We're exploring Chinese cinema and culture and it's because of films like Chungking Express which provided the necessary Westernized touchstone for America to begin its (albeit distant) love affair with China all over again (I'm lookin' at you De Quincey). Produced by Quentin Tarantino's Rolling Thunder Pictures, it's pretty easy to see why it would be warmly received by 90's hipsters (with goatees).

Why is any of this important now though? I don't know. We could talk about Wong Kar-wai symbolizing a place of Chinese originality with broad appeal in Chinese cinema, the first since Tsang Shu Shuen and Hong Kong New Wave. Or we could discuss how much of a departure Kar-wai's films are from the typical Hong Kong softcore porn or cultist-pandering martial arts flicks.

In the end, does any of that really matter? It's a fun and intriguing film that has, in some way, bridged the gap between the East and the West for the past 16 years and will continue to do so in the future.

Enjoi!

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International Cinema Thursday: Babette's Feast

"Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus,

and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment.

Then saith one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon’s son, which should betray him,

Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?

This he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief,
and had the bag, and bare what was put therein.

Then said Jesus, Let her alone: against the day of my burying hath she kept this.

For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always."

John 12:3-8

Any thoughts?

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International Cinema Thursday: Pablo Neruda

Brigham Young University has the oldest weekly campus cinema program in the country, beginning its operations in 1968. Every week three films from around the world are shown daily, with the exception of Sunday and Thursday. And hey! Every Tuesday there is a 4:00 PM lecture on one of the films from either resident professors or visiting lecturers. Here at Bare Bones, we love the IC. It's so awesome, like woah. That's why we're dedicating Thursday to International Cinema, giving you information about a film not covered in Tuesday's lecture.

Today let's talk about Il Postino.

Il Postino is the tale of a lovesick mailman who stumbles into life of exiled poet Pablo Neruda. Born Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto, the infamous Chilean communist and poetic Romeo of the 20th century takes the role of mentor and guide to postman Mario; a role that would later prove to be both beneficial and heartbreaking.

Background: Neruda, in addition to being a world-renowned poet from the age of 17, also played the role of statesman. As the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936, Neruda was acting consul for Chile in Madrid. His experiences in the war indefinitely turned him pro-communist, and he was quite vocal in his support for Pedro Aguirre Cerda, a radical who ran for and won the Chilean presidential office in 1938. What follows is a period of about five years in which Neruda moves about the world, writing and speechifying, while making the acquaintances of Russian assassin Vittorio Vidali, Mexican painter and assumed Communist conspirator David Alfaro Siqueiros, and Soviet leader Joseph Stalin, among other large and intriguingly unpronounceable names. In 1943, Neruda returned home to Chile and was awarded a position of Senator in the northern part of the country. In 1946, radical presidential candidate Gonzalez Videla jockeyed hard to get Neruda to manage his campaign. Neruda followed through and Videla won the election. However, almost immediately Videla turned on the Communist party, alienating the working class as well as influential party members such as Neruda. In 1948, Neruda gave a speech entitled Yo Acuso (lol), which condemned Videla outright. Neruda was then officially exiled as the Communist Party was banned from the state, and he took off on a whirlwind tour of the globe, all the while composing and publishing his observations and poems.

Connection: The movie takes place in 1952, the final year of Neruda's exile. He is with his Chilean singer-lover who also helps out in Mario's education, and basically just sings and twirls in Neruda's bedroom the whole movie. While Neruda's stay on the island is fact, the whole of the story is fiction. The film takes firm hold on Neruda's vibrant and well-known love poetry and translates that into a character who plays wise teacher and affable mentor; more like a living embodiment of Neruda's poems than Neruda himself. It's interesting to note that, though the character of Neruda is, in general, one-sided and dimensionless, some of his less easily understandable aspects rub off onto Mario. The whole movie is a well-executed piece of Italian camp, much in the vein of Guiseppe Tornatore. Mario learns from Neruda, Neruda learns from Mario, there is a bit of sad-faced camera mugging, and cut. However, the ending takes us into a place that is strikingly beautiful and much more bold in its understanding of the effects that poetry, politics, and real life function together. Neruda was an complex and intense man. He ran with a circle of radicals, revolutionaries, and artists, many of whom had blood on their hands. And yet, here he is in the pristine sunlight of Italy, graciously leading a postman to love. It's almost laughable the way the film decides not to deal with Neruda's obvious demons. An American equivalent might be having Hunter S. Thompson coach a pair of young lovers into marriage. However the saving grace for the film comes at the end, which brings us closer to the truth and realization of the man Neruda truly was. I can't help but equate the effect of the film's narrative arc to that of Neruda's poems. We are taken in easily and let go with silence ringing in our ears.

The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.

Deserted like the dwarfs at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!

Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.

In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.

You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!

In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!

I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.

Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.

Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.

There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.

Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!

How terrible and brief my desire was to you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.

Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.

Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.

Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.

And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.

This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!

Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!

From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.

You still flowered in songs, you still break the currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.

Pale blind diver, luckless singer,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.

Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands.

Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.
It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!

-Pablo Neruda from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair

For more information on International Cinema, check out their website, or this. If you like this feature, let us know. If you don't, let us know.

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