2046

So, I’ve decided that blogging takes real commitment. Who has time for that?

It has been 2 weeks since I’ve been here, but I think the last film I saw, Wong Kar-wai’s “2046,” is the cause of my writer’s block. His earlier film, “In the Mood for Love,” is one of my all-time favorites and “2046,” coming as a kind of sequel to that, is as strangely beautiful as it is unsatisfying. Like Pedro Almodovar, Wong takes chances and he’s adored by critics for eschewing conventional narrative techniques (a beginning--a muddle--and an end) but that being said, one still has to sit through 129 minutes of images that, though beautiful, do not bear the weight of the film’s obsessive themes of personal loss and isolation.

Spanning three years in the mid 1960s, “2046” focuses on Chow, a roué and journalist whose real occupation (preoccupation?) is writing erotic fiction. Chow, with his slick backed hair and pencil-thin mustache, is played with reptilian precision by Tony Leung. One day, Chow meets an old flame that lives in the Oriental Hotel, in Room 2046. When Chow later returns to her hotel, he discovers that she has disappeared. He eventually moves into the adjacent room, 2047, where he meets the two women whose lives will intersect with his own. Ziyi Zhang is one of these women and her smoldering performance alone makes the film worthwhile-but it’s a slow go, even for a fan of Wong’s earlier films.

I’m sure I’m missing something (possibly everything), except the way Wong films his characters: gorgeously, like matinee idols from a time gone by. I’ll watch “2046” again (someday, on DVD) and I’ll see more and appreciate it more. But like the early stages of an acquired taste, I’m a long way from loving it.

The Memory of a Killer

Yesterday I saw "The Memory of a Killer," a Belgian film, at the Quad Cinema. It's an enjoyable action/thriller that's being compared to "Memento" because the lead character, an assassin, is suffering from Alzheimer's. (He also writes important information on his arm in black marker just as Guy Pearce made indelible marks on his own body in "Memento.") But there the similarities end. In "The Memory of a Killer," the assassin's failing memory is merely a plot complication (at one point late in the film he assembles his weapon, forgetting to include the firing pin...oops) and another corruption in a world where child prostitution, politics, and religion freely mingle. The aging assassin Ledda, played wonderfully by Jan Declair, is secretly hired to kill two people by a prominent Belgian baron. After snapping the neck of the first victim and confronting the second target, Ledda decides he is unable to finish the job, which puts his own life at stake. The predator becomes the prey as Ledda is chased by an idealistic police officer and Ledda's disappointed employers. Manohla Dargis in the "Times" says that "An amnesiac killer is an inherently rich conceit" and she's right. Like Tony Soprano staggering through an anxiety attack, Ledda demands our fascination for the horrible weakness of his tremendous power.

Day One

So I'm just giving this a shot, leading the way where so many others have gone before. Very soon I may ask my students to do this too--to write down their thoughts about the films they're going to see in "The Art of Film" and elsewhere. I'm just testing the waters, wondering which way the wind's blowing. Lettuce blog: