In what might be the slowest thriller ever made, Truffaut takes a typical chase/hide-from-bad-guys flick and turns it into a poetic, charming character study of a timid pianist. And does so without really losing what makes such films work - suspense.

The film starts out normal enough. A man is being chased through the streets by a couple of guys in a car. But very shortly after, the chase is over and is replaced with a long, meandering walk and talk about marriage. This sort of dichotomy persists throughout the film, both in story and acting. You have a character walking hurriedly in one direction only to turn on a dime and slow down. A bar fight slows down to a stop - one character appears to want to tell the other a secret, but before I know what is happening I realize the struggle has started back up.

The chased opening character introduces us to his brother, a shy, introverted pianist playing under the name Charlie Kohler at a bar. We spend the rest of the film with him, learning all about him and his past in between scenes of conventional thriller plot. And though that plot is interesting, the real meat of the film are just watching Charlie. Seeing the way he works with women and his brothers, listening to his inner monologue, and finding out why he might be the way he is, is really fascinating stuff. Plus, the acting, dialog, editing and such are pretty enthralling, just visually. There is a scene after we flashback to Charlie's history in which he and Lena (I think) are lying in bed, that is so charming and lyrical and beautiful that I forgot to read the subtitles.

As for the filler, and again, here the filler is in the chase, not character development, it follows the aformentioned choppy contrasting style the rest of the film does. Besides the bar fight, there's a couple hostage sorta situations that are undeniably unexpected and fun. In the first, Charlie and Lena are being taken to find Charlie's brother, if I recall; instead of being the tense, silent ride you think it should, the captors and captive talk and laugh like old friends. Quickly after, an action is taken that again comes out of left field and as quickly as the pair were captured, they are now walking away from the car. It's just so cool to see it play out, certainly unlike anything I've seen in a film like this. (The second hostage thing is the kidnapping of a child; like the first, it plays out unexpectedly and charmingly and fascinatingly.)

Like the other Truffaut I've seen, Shoot the Piano Player is a treat. It's engaging and unique and a lot of fun. A great change from the average, expected genre film, it gave me something I absolutely did not expect, and left me pretty excited, and for that, I am appreciative.

What is there to say about David Gordon Green's sophomore effort, All the Real Girls? Other than that it is almost as good as his debut masterpiece George Washington, of course. I'd have to start by saying that it has proven to me that Green is an amazing director and that he absolutely knows how to make a story work. The story, in this case, is one of those simple coming-of-age, boy-meets-girl types that everyone and their mother have directed. But few have ever made it as powerful and human as this one.

The film's central character is Paul (Paul Schneider), an early twenties man who has slept with every girl in his small town. Every girl, that is, except Noel (Zooey Deschanel). The catch: Noel is just back from boarding school, and happens to be the sister of Paul's best friend, Tip (Shea Whigham). You might guess what happens next. If you guessed "Noel and Paul fall in love, much to the dismay of older-brother Tip," you are right.

So if the story is so basic, why is the film so fantastic? Mostly, it is Green's filmmaking style. Allow me to quote myself from some earlier thoughts on Green's third film, Undertow: "He just turns on his camera to this deep south little town and - voila - I live there, alongside the characters, who, most of the time I feel like I know and understand before they open their mouths." This is more true here than in even George Washington. The opening shot of the film is a medium profile shot of the two lovers face to face, just talking. And in the nearly four minutes the director leaves his camera steady, I have already bought into these two characters and am already engaged by the story.

And like in that scene, Green trusts his actors and his audience enough throughout the film to just let them act and us observe. He doesn't rely on cutting to a close-up to catch a look in someone's eyes, because with these actors he doesn't need to. Zooey Deschanel and Paul Schneider work so well together that all the close-ups in the world couldn't make their feelings more clear or their relationship more believable. That's the film's biggest strength - just showcasing the emotions and letting the viewer "feel along" with Paul and Noel. It's not just Paul and Noel, though. There are two great younger children -- brother and niece to Tip and Paul, respectively -- who are just as good as the older actors they support. Plus a whole slew of other supporting characters who give the film something else to focus on when necessary. There are particularly strong relationships between Paul and his mother and Paul and his uncle which work as well as the central love story does.

The script overflows with lines that may sound cheesy here but in context are as beautiful as they are impactful: " I had a dream that you grew a garden on a trampoline and I was so happy that I invented peanut butter." "If anybody smiles at me ever again I'm going to freak out!" "I just want to be sure that a million years from now I can still see you up close and still have things to say." "Last night I had a bad dream, that you were a river..." Not to mention a particularly inspiring soliloquy by the aforementioned young niece.

For every fantastic line there is an equally fantastic scene that, again, work, against the odds, beautifully in context. One in a hospital involving a couple of clowns, for example, if described in words might sound silly. But knowing what it means and seeing it against the lively energetic drums of a great score, intercut with the images he chooses...well it's just one of the best scenes I've ever seen. And it's not even the best of the movie. If you've seen the film, or plan to, the bowling alley scene is even more powerful and wonderful and beautiful. Which is in turn, almost trumped by a scene overlooking a mountain.

The movie is all about growing up, being in love, and eventually just being ok. Green takes a tired premise and plot and, with the help of his actors and a fine script, manages to make what is probably the most touching and humanistic film of the decade.

"Once we know the number one, we believe that we know the number two, because one plus one equals two. We forget that first, we must know the meaning of plus."

Alphaville, a science fiction film filtered through the lense of American film noir might be the most outrageous or the most fascinating film ever made. Lemmy Caution, a secret agent from the Outlands arrives in the city of Alphaville where he encounters a world strange and oppressive. Why he is there isn't really clear, nor is the exact nature of this 1984ian city. He meets Natacha Von Braun, the beautiful daughter of Professor Von Braun, who Lemmy is interested in speaking with. Beyond that, the plot is hazy; there is a computer system called Alpha-60, which seems to have outlawed all things free - love, poetry, conscience, etc. People are condemned to death for illogical thoughts, such as a man crying when his wife has died, in what is certainly one of the most haunting and memorable scenes in film.

The film is definitely noir, and given the unique circumstances I'd call it the ultimate noir. Like most noir, our hero is involved with a dark, twisted mystery. It's complete with two sets of voice-over, one of which (from Alpha-60) is easily the coolest sounding in any noir. Lemmy wears a trench coat and carries a hand gun, which he's quick to use. And there is a beautiful girl who may or may not be working for the "machine." But unlike most good noirs, which string you along based on a good story, or good script, and ideally leave you at least a step behind, this film leaves the viewer in the dust. It's not your fault though; we're in a different world. We can't know what's going on, because in no world we know do people speak they way they do here. No earth-bound noir would include the kinds of scenes we get here - Lemmy shoots a man who is in his hotel room's bathroom, but we don't even know where this man came from or who he was. Why are the people walking through the halls falling over, flailing, hugging the walls in stupid, slow motion? It takes many noir conventions and pumps them full of weirdness, and it works just about brilliantly.

If the story is strange and the scifi noir genre unique, one welcome familiarness is in Godard's fantastic direction. It's just as fresh as in Breathless and just as playful as A Woman is a Woman or Band of Outsiders. The acting is solid, with Godard favorite Anna Karina as beautiful as any actress in history, her character sweet, naive, and enigmatic. Eddie Constantine's holds his own against any noir leading man. His Lemmy is strong, stoic and gruff. I think this guy might have the most interesting face of any actor, ever.

Francois Truffaut's Day for Night is a playful film about the ins, outs, ups and downs of being a film director. Many call this the quintessential film about film, and if it's not, it is certainly one of the best about making film. Day for Night accurately portrays many of the inevitable issues that plague nearly every film shoot and haunt aspiring directors world-wide.

Director Ferrand, played by director Truffaut, is trying to make "Meet Pamela," a film about a young French man whose life falls apart when his new British bride falls in love with his father. Alexandre (Jean-Pierre Aumont) is the father; Severine ( Valentina Cortese) the mother; Alphonse (Jean-Pierre Leaud) the young man; Julie Baker ( Jacqueline Bisset) is Pamela. But Day for Night isn't about Pamela's affair with her father-in-law. It is about the Ferrand's struggles to get the movie made and those of the actors both personally and professionally.

Ferrand has many obstacles to overcome in making "Meet Pamela." His lead actress has only recently recovered from a nervous breakdown and he fears she may have another. (And with French insurance refusing to cover her, there is a lot riding on her health. Severine spends most of her time drunk, missing lines and delaying her scenes. Alphonse is always distracted by his lover. And on top of all this he has the general problems of decisions to make, schedules to keep up with, and plenty of crew to keep in line. Not to mention a kitten who won't act. At one point, Ferrand compares making a film to riding through the old west in a stagecoach. "When you start, you are hoping for a pleasant trip. By the halfway point, you just hope to survive." And watching these people just trying to survive is a joyous experience. Even during the film's bleakest moments, there is a sense of fun and happiness. As though they're saying "Yeah, it's hard, but hey, we love it."

One of the best parts of watching this movie is that it gives you two films for the price of one. The camera sits back and observes the shooting of Julie and Alphonse, but when Ferrand starts his cameras rolling, it immediately switches to "Meet Pamela" and you are given a chance to enjoy that film, too. Actors playing fictional actors and minutes later playing another character. I'd be interested in seeing "Meet Pamela" edited out into its own short film; I'm sure it would be quite enjoyable on its own.

Co-written by Truffaut, the film is something of a love letter to movie people, with many nods to those who live for cinema. "[This bed's] harder to move than an audience." "I might quit a guy for a movie, but I'd never quit a movie for a guy." And when Severine cannot remember her lines: "I'll use numbers, the way I do with Fellini." The dialogue between these little one-liners is soft and airy with a kind of sophistication that you'll to fall in love with. Even if you miss some of the jokes, with its gorgeous visuals (and people) and a score that seems to have a mind of it's own, jumping in at the perfect moment to highlight whatever is happening on screen, it's easy to get lost in the world of Day for Night.

Someone in the class compared this Jacques Tati film My Uncle to the work of Chaplin. It's an apt, if obvious connection. The sparse use of dialog, kinetic pace and visual nature of most of the film's jokes certainly evoke memories of early silent slapstick. Here the characters speak and the film is in color (barely), but it's hard not to think of the 1930s style of comedy. For me it was even harder not to think of the spoofs of the past twenty years.

That's because, though I can't be sure, I think this movie is spoofing something itself. Either the Italian neo-realism movement of the decade prior, which is probably a stretch but certainly what I was most often reminded of; or, just class differences and French culture in general. Or maybe Tati, as most seem to think, was just trying to be funny.

Whichever the case, this movie is absolutely funny. Some of it may be the most subtle humor I've ever seen (look for the tried-and-true "Man awkwardly sees woman without all her clothes" shot from twenty yards away and only below the knees), but it's without doubt a comedy that made me laugh, or want to laugh, more than anything in recent theater trips. The jokes are mostly visual and as I mentioned, have shown up time and time again since this film was made (and of course, silently before). But even something as obvious and cliche as a character trying to do something with his feet (here, even more obviously, plugging a leaking hole) while keeping a conversation at his face felt fresh and hilarious in this movie. The jokes really don't stop, and never fall flat.

The visuals of the movie border on genius. There's definitely a fifties feel to both the actual look and the objects filmed. However, and I'm not sure if this was deliberate or a result of the camera or what, I've seen few films more beautiful. It reminded me of Sin City in a way, because despite being in color, this movie is covered in grays, with true color highlighting specific people, objects or events. The opening shots honestly looked like a black-and-white film with the lawns hand painted green. Couple the unique coloring with the long wide shots and amazing buildings and sets (or locations, I guess) and you have a film that could almost be animated, a true work of art that really has to be seen to be appreciated.

This movie is phenomenal. It's probably the first pre-1980 film of a different language I would not hesitate to recommend to a single person I know, from my grandparents to my ten year old sister. For example, my sister can read, but even if she couldn't she wouldn't need the subtitles to follow this film. And for that matter, if she couldn't follow it I think there are still plenty of moments that would make her laugh. Chaplin may have done it first, but for my money Tati has thus far done this slapstick, physical, spoof kind of humor best.

I'm not sure I'll ever like a Godard film as much as his first which was also my first Godard experience. Which is a silly statement to make, because I've only seen two films from him so far. But at the time it just blew me away. It was one of those films, along with <cut for suspense> that had been hyped up to enormous standards since I'd gotten interested in film and that all lived up to, or even exceeded, that hype. And the five of them probably stand as my five favorite foreign films I've seen so far.

That said, A Woman is a Woman is almost as good as Godard's debut. Godard created with this film one of the most well rounded and fun films I've ever seen. His style meshes with the story and mood better than perfectly; I couldn't imagine any other director making this film work. It is a hilarious and evocative film that captures a time and place in a beautiful woman's life as well as any film except maybe its sister film from the same year, Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Anna Karina in the movie, playing a striptease who wants to have a baby, is the perfect woman for this film. She's playful, energetic, funny, beautiful, colorful - all things that describe the film too. Plus, she's a great actress and makes Angela a character memorable as any in film.

At one point in the film, Emile says, "I don't know if it's a comedy or a tragedy. But it's a masterpiece!" I think it sums up this film pretty well, except this is more obviously a comedy. And certainly a masterpiece.

Outdated thoughts edited to remove the films that will all show up later in the list. But they're way super obvious...you could probably guess the four I meant

I saw David Gordon Green's debut film long before I saw his second and third, but even with those two fresh in mind, George Washington, from two years earlier had left a bigger impression on me. Though if you asked me why yesterday, I probably couldn't have told you. Rewatching the film tonight was something of a revelation to me. As I was watching it this time it hit me just exactly why I appreciated the film so much after just one viewing. Besides being more beautiful, lyrical, powerful and involving than I'd remembered it, it also struck me on a more personal level than any film in a long time.

Many people, when discussing or reviewing this film, bring up the time in their life it most reminds them of. They talk about how everyone, no matter their current situation, remembers the time in their past that Green depicts in his film. In fact, let me quote Roger Ebert on this subject, as he sums up the film, and the universal connection so many find with it as well as anyone can:


While I don't remember the specific summer like many seem to, nor have I ever experienced the specific events of the film, I realized that not only did the film work on that basic level of growing up, but also that I personally grew up in a very similar situation as the one depicted on screen. Not in rural North Carolina, of course, but between the street corners enclosing my neighborhood, everything from the look of the homes and cars, to the kids and the adults was almost exactly what I remembered. I've mentioned before with David Gordon Green how I feel like I instantly know and identify with his characters and that as soon as he turns on his camera I am taken away to the location he shoots. In this film, the same is true but on a much more literal level; I "know and identify" with the characters in this film because I spent a good portion of my childhood living and playing and growing up with them. Their mannerisms and speech styles, clothing and homes is more real than anything in any other film because it could have come out of my head.

Maybe I'm idealizing my memories (though they're in no way ideal), and maybe such a personal connection shouldn't have any bearing on the quality of a film, but I couldn't help think of how much I was reminded of the people and places I grew up and how powerful those memories were. If anything, it is further proof of Green's uncanny ability to capture real people and locations, because even without the connection to my past, I am positive I would have been just as lost in the world of George Washington as I was with the one of All the Real Girls.

One thing a memory will always fail to do is be anywhere near as beautiful as this movie. Cinematographer Tim Orr's photography, every frame of it, is gorgeously composed; deep and crisp, bright and colorful, there's hardly a moment a fan of good images can afford to miss. Ahe score, also absent from nostalgia for obvious reasons, keeps the film in motion when little moves on screen. When the music is allowed to wash over any ambient sound and simply compliment the visuals, there's little chance of the viewer being anything but engaged.

I think most striking, aside from the beauty and personal attachment, is the characters themselves. A cast of mostly children, these are all amazing actors. They speak with the hesitance of a child, but the power and understanding of someone quite a bit older. They have to deal with so much in this movie - death and love, grief and awe, fear and joy, disappointment and personal achievement. That every word and glance rings true and every emotion and relationship is believable is nothing short of inspiring.

David Gordon Green is a master. This film is as powerful as it is beautiful and has been an experience for me personally like no other movie. I can't really say enough, or speak eloquently enough about how great it is. Your best best is to buy it and lose yourself in the world he's created. Unless you're soulless or too old to remember your childhood, you won't regret it.

Every once in a while when I watch I film, I'm struck by just how little has changed, both in terms of film and humanity. This film highlights that idea pretty perfectly.

Directorially, it's pretty much the same stuff that's still prevalent today; though actually, much better. Or at least more interesting...how often these days do you get characters crawling towards, and over top of the camera? It's just really neatly and professionally made. And the story, as you said, is still standard in dozens of films every year.

More surprising than cinematic similarities, though, is how true and relatable its characters are. The love between Jean and Juliette is just like any romance today, with the same highs and occasional lows. Boyfriends in 1934 got just as jealous as they do in 2004. Music was the same powerful emotional tool it still is for so many, as evidenced by the joy overcoming Juliette's sad and lost face when she hears a familiar song.

And speaking of Juliette, actress Dita Parlo (what a name, btw) plays her brilliantly. She's kinda naive, innocent, and beautiful. She glows angelically (at times, literally) and its easy to see why Jean fell for her. So when she longs to visit Paris, it's difficult not to feel that same longing. It's just a lovely character and classic performance...and it's not even the best of the film.

That would go to Papa Jules, L'Atalante's old, drunkish first mate. This is one of the funniest characters in history. I don't speak French, but you can just hear the gruff, the mumble, the crazy in his voice. He's a tough guy, but is quick to do whatever he can to make Juliette laugh, or cheer up Jean. I felt like watching a movie just about his travels and friends (how did he end up with that souvenir from his friend, for example). He's just really interesting and funny and good.

The film has a clear silent sentiment and I almost wished it was sans sound. The acting is still similar to silent films, from the dramatic turns to slap-sticky falls, and I think it would have been even more fun if it had been that little bit more over-the-top. Which isn't really a complaint, because it's still an incredibly fun film, full of memorable, fantastic parts (I'm hesitant to even call them scenes, because some are so much smaller and less important than a full 'scene.') From the switchblade, and other fun toys in Jules' quarters, to the vendor's little song and dance routine and a brilliant bit with a record, ("There are harder things than making a record play with your fingers", I think is the line)
the great moments almost don't stop.

Also fascinating is just how epic the film feels. It's only 83 minutes between start and Fin, but it feels like at least two hours worth of material is covered. We start on land, post wedding, and spend time on the boat, in Paris, leaving Paris, back on land, and back on the boat. Each section of which has plenty of happening and certainly do not feel quick or rushed. I almost suspect the film moves faster than 24 fps. Not only because of how much is shown, but also because when I hit rewind one time, it felt like it went back forty five seconds in less than ten (at 2x back). But either way, this is just more reason to watch it...anyone can spare less than ninety minutes of time, especially for a film as awesome as this one.

Apparently this is one of those classic, pantheon films. The cover quote is "May be the greatest film ever made," and Truffaut himself is quoted (on the back) as saying "When Jean Vigo shot L'Atalante...he achieved perfection, he made a masterpiece." And yet, other than passing by it dozens of times in the library, and reading this thread almost a 2/3rds of a year ago, I don't think I'd ever heard it mentioned. So now I guess all that's really left to do is say "Thanks, [person who pointed me towards this film]" and "I agree with Truffaut."

Kim Ki-duk, best known for his beautifully shot, Buddhist-inspired meditation on life and what it means to live, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring returns with 3-Iron a less obvious but equally thought-provoking, equally beautiful timeless tale of love.

The film follows Tae-suk, an estranged, taciturn young man who spends his days taping take-out menus onto the doors of different Korean homes and apartments. A few days later, he returns to the homes to check the situation; if the menu remains taped over the keyhole, he assumes the homeowners to be away on vacation or business and he breaks in. Tae-suk does not break in as a thief, though; indeed, he steals nothing during his short ventures into the lives of others. Rather, he simply lives his life as though the homes were his own. He cooks and eats their food, bathes in their tubs, watches their televisions and sleeps in their beds. As a payment, he does their laundry, fixes any broken household appliances, and generally leaves the home in a better state than he had found it. He lives this life, silently content, day in and day out, and seems genuinely happy.

Genuinely happy, that is, until one day his perfect way of life is challenged. In one large, modern mansion he encounters not emptiness, but a lovely young lady, Sun-hwa, stuck in a dead-end existence with her abusive, workaholic husband Min-gyu. The two connect, wordlessly. After a brief encounter with her husband, involving his three iron club (which becomes something of a tool of escape and redemption for Tae-suk) and some precisely aimed golf balls, Sun-hwa joins Tae-suk on his shiny motorcycle, and together they pick up where Tae-suk left off: entering the empty homes of strangers, cleaning and fixing and soon falling in love.

Their transition from strangers to lovers is hardly a gradual one. Sun-hwa calls out from the start, however silently, for help; Tae-suk quickly obliges, taking her into his daily routine without question. They are the perfect couple; it almost appears as though they are one, with Sun-hwa now in the picture to help clean while Tae-suk cooks their breakfast. The two just complement each other beautifully. Their relationship, though clearly one of care and deep love, never descends into the overly physical or sexual. This profoundly attests to the quality of the lead actors. Tae-suk, played effortlessly by Hee Jae, does not need lengthy, verbose monologues or explicit sex scenes to express his love and care for Sun-hwa; a mere look of care or attachment towards Sun-hwa says so much more than any dialog ever could. Likewise Sun-hwa's (Seung-yeon Lee) expressive eyes and tender face show incredible range, from longing and fear to love and happiness.

In one home the pair break into, they come across an old man lying on the floor, dead. They give him a proper burial and settle down in his house. However, things soon turn for the worse when the man's son stops by unexpectedly and find the two living in his father's home. The police are called and Tae-suk is arrested for murder and kidnapping. Sun-hwa, forced back with her husband and Tae-suk off to prison. Fortunately, however, Sun-hwa is no longer content to be an abused housewife; and Tae-suk once silent and lonely as a ghost, no longer willing to be alone, despite his solitary confinement.

What follows is nothing short of magical: a hauntingly beautiful showcase of faith and affection, the likes of which are rarely captured so wonderfully on film. It will reaffirm one's belief in destiny and true love in such a way that no Hollywood happy ending ever could. Sure to leave the viewer thinking and more importantly, feeling, 3-Iron's finale is easily one of the decade's best.

3-Iron does not succeed based upon phenomenal writing or story; its plot, after all - a beautiful women entering and changing a man's life as they fall in love - was probably filmed fifty times last year alone. Neither does it rely on aesthetics to wow the audience, thought both the score and cinematography are far above standard and work flawlessly to the film's advantage. Where the film really flourishes, then, is realism and emotion. The acting is such that one believes every interaction between the characters and feels every emotion that hits the characters. The result is an overwhelmingly intense, beautiful film that will engage and touch any who experience it.