The violence inherent in the system

Shotgun Stories

(2007)

I saw the trailer for this at IFC during my M5 of March 22, 2008, and I was not much impressed; if I'd had a chance to see it in the theater, I doubt that I would have recognized what would come to make Jeff Nichols maybe my favorite writer-director of his generation who is not my child.

From a distance, though, I can see his deft hand at foreboding and understatement: in a film whose soul is violence, there are only a couple of violent acts onscreen, and the violence that looms is far more unsettling than any we see.

The setup evokes Shakespeare via Twain: a violent drunkard has 3 sons, Son (Michael Shannon, at the heart of every one of Nichols's films), Boy, and Kid, then leaves them and their damaged, hate-filled mother, finds Jesus, dries out, remarries, and has four more sons, all of whom get actual names. When he dies, Son comes to the funeral and calls bullshit on the eulogy, and the enmity that has simmered for decades flashes into the menace of a blood feud.

Zat you?

I Am Santa Claus

(2014)

My daughter totally bullied me into watching this documentary about freelance Santas--she even gave me an Amazon gift certificate to pay for a stream--and I'm so glad she did, because it's the perfect Boxing Day night farewell to the season.

Director Tommy Avallone covers the economics, the sociology, the sexuality of the Santa family--he covers such a spectrum that you're left regretting that we get only one glimpse of a black Santa, and nothing at all on the female Santa options. Sequels, I guess.

Naima

Ida

(2014)

Poland, early '60s, Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska), days away from taking her vows, is shipped off by her Mother Superior to be nanny to the children of a widowed baron--oh, wait, no, that's not right--to meet her only living relative, a cynical aunt (Agata Kulesza) who had refused to take her in when she was orphaned and is now an alcoholic, sexually indiscriminate judge for the Communist state.

It becomes a journey of discovery--that she is Jewish, that her name is Ida, that her parents were murdered in the war, that the circumstances of their death might be discoverable, and that that vow of chastity might be a lot bigger sacrifice than she'd ever dreamed before she heard Coltrane.

The second of three films I'm seeing this weekend from my list of top five missed last year, and I have no hesitation labeling this one extraordinary. I'm usually oblivious to technical matters, but watch how Ida migrates from the corners of the squarish black-and-white frame to the center as she migrates from the periphery of consciousness to the center of her self. A gem, beautiful in every way.

I'm only sleeping

Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari (The cabinet of Dr. Caligari)

(1920)

You'll probably be surprised to learn that I'd never seen this universally acclaimed silent classic. I may watch it again sometime, but it won't be for the psychological insights, which are rudimentary at best, or the acting, which is overdone according to the era's standards.

No, there's just one element of this film that I found stunning--but for that element, "stunning" is inadequate. There is not a single set that doesn't merit intense study, each with its own surreal geometry. I'm sure it's not literally true that there are no parallel lines to be seen anywhere, but they are rare--even doorjambs are rhomboid or triangular--which is impractical carpentry, I expect, but astonishing filmmaking. See this film, if for no other reason, to see it.