The Bloody Olive (1997)

Film noir, French for "black film", describes a very particular kind of crime dramas that originated in the early 40s and had very distinctive traits. For starters, thematically they had connections to the hardboiled school of crime fiction that began during the depression, this results in stories with greater cynicism and a taste for morbid themes. However, perhaps the most distinctive trait of the film noir was the low-key lighting in its cinematography, which played with hard shadows in the style of German Expressionism. This stylish cinematography, result of having low budgets to work with, became a staple of Films Noir, and while the classic period of the genre ended in the 50s, its visual style has inspired countless homages and tributes ever since. It certainly inspired a young filmmaker from Belgium, Vincent Bal, whom used a distinctive film noir visual style to make a comedy short film shortly after finishing film school. The title? "The Bloody Olive".

With a runtime of barely 11 minutes, "The Bloody Olive" begins with a married couple, Werner and Mylène (Frank Focketijn and Veerle van Overloop respectively) preparing themselves for Christmas. The couple finishes the Christmas tree and is seen getting ready for the dinner, when suddenly, the doorbell rings. The visitor is Sam (Gene Bervoets), Werner's business partner and a good friend of the couple, whom arrives with a bottle of wine for them. However, Sam doesn't look like he's having fun, and accuses Werner of being stealing from the company. Sam claims he has proof, so Werner reacts by shooting his partner in front of a shocked Mylène. Werner explains that there wasn't really another way to do it, and that Sam's death can easily be explained as self-defense. But things aren't always easy, specially in films noir, and to everyone's surprise, Sam gets up not being really dead yet. This is only the beginning of a series of betrayals that prove that in film noir, nothing is what it seems.

"The Bloody Olive" has its origins in the 1994 graphic novel "Imbroglio", by French cartoonist Lewis Trondheim; however, director Vincent Bal takes the plot and fully adapts it to better blend into the film noir style he attempts (the novel, while also a jab at noir, has less emphasis in this, and in classic Trondheim fashion, the characters are anthropomorphic animals): and all without losing the black humor of the comic book. Certainly, it could be argued that "The Bloody Olive" is a one-joke short film (perhaps the bane of ), and that would be right in a way. Fortunately, director Vincent Bal elaborates on the joke with great skill, and in fact achieves a smooth transition from straight crime drama towards the absurd black comedy that "The Bloody Olive" truly is. The story unfolds at a nice pace, which begins slow in classic melodrama fashion and then gets increasingly faster as secrets are unveiled. Nevertheless, the true highlight of "The Bloody Olive" is its craftsmanship.

And this because its actually in the way that Vincent Bal and his team replicate the film noir style where the magic of "The Bloody Olive" is. As written above, the film is faithful to its source, however, Bal's decision of replicating the film noir aesthetics is more than appropriate as it transforms what originally was a fun yet simple parody ("Imbroglio") into a heartfelt tribute to the noir genre. And instrumental for this is the work of both cinematographer Philippe Van Volsem and Art Director Gert Stas, who make a remarkable achievement in bringing to life the somber vision of director Vincent Bal. From the low-key lighting to the somber atmosphere, "The Bloody Olive" is just perfect in its representation of film noir style; and actually this faithfulness ultimately serves for comic effect, as the contrast between the absurd of its story with the careful replication of the noir style results in a tongue-in-cheek homage to the most morbid excesses of film noir.

The acting in "The Bloody Olive" is particularly good, with each cast member doing their best to replicate the melodramatic tone and fast delivery of the 1940s acting. Actress Veerle van Overloop (of 1995's Dutch film "Antonia") plays Mylène, Werner's loving wife whom results to be more dangerous than any weapon. Van Overloop shines in her role, moving nicely between the two extreme female icons of film noir: the loving wife and the femme fatal. With her natural charm and her strong screen presence, she ends up being probably the best performer amongst the cast. Frank Focketijn plays her husband Werner, and also makes a pretty effective job as the sly Werner. Focketijn allows himself to go over-the-top at times, but he's never out of place and displays a great skill at comedy. Finally, Gene Bervoets plays Sam, and while he is a tad inferior to his co-stars, Bervoets isn't really bad, perfectly channeling the tough guy persona so typical of films noir.

Cleverly developed and brilliantly done, this little tribute to film noir is a quite amusing piece of work. In making an adaptation of a popular comic book, director Vincent Bal has gone beyond and delivers a quite enjoyable movie that not only remains faithful to its source, it actually builds up from there to create a heartfelt homage to a classic genre. Certainly the visual design is the film's strongest element, but it's also commendable the way Bal adapted the original comic book to suit his needs. The reconstruction of the period is excellent for a low budget film, and it does feel right at home with the films noir of the classic period. Still, this doesn't mean that "The Bloody Olive" lacks any problems, it has its fair share of flaws; the main one of them being perhaps the fact that in the end, it's still a one-joke film. Fortunately, director Vincent Bal's has focused greatly in his craftsmanship to make it an enjoyable experience. Yes, "The Bloody Olive" is a film of style over substance, but done right.

A lot of the charm of "The Bloody Olive" comes not from being familiar with the story, but from being familiar with the conventions of film noir, as the classic elements from those classic crime dramas can be found in an exaggerated form in "The Bloody Olive". Vincent Bal's film is perhaps an example of how an adaptation can be inventive with its source: while Lewis Trondheim's comic is fun by itself, Bal's film neither replicates it nor exaggerates it, it merely uses it as the basis to make a slightly more ambitious comedy. In "The Bloody Olive", director Vincent Bal proves that with talent and lots of imagination, an unforgettable movie can be done in the short format.

8/10
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Oni (1972)

Bunraku, a traditional form of puppet theatre, captivated the mind of a young Kihachiro Kawamoto, who decided to dedicate his life to the fine art of puppet making. However, it would not be the only thing that would fascinate the young Japanese artist. Years later, Kawamoto would discover the works of legendary Czech filmmaker Jirí Trnka, whose work in stop motion animation impressed Kawamoto so much that the puppet master decided to learn the craft. Kawamoto began working with another legend of animation, Tadahito Mochinaga, and later he traveled to Prague and met his hero, Jirí Trnka himself, in order to perfect his craft. Trnka would suggest Kawamoto to find inspiration in his own culture, and so combining what he learned from the Czech master with his background in Bunraku theatre, Kawamoto would produce several short films in which he would show Japanese culture to the world. "Oni", released in 1972, is the third of these independently produced short films that would earn Kawamoto a place in the history of animation.

"Oni", which can be translated as "Devil" or "Demon" (name in which the film is known in English) is the story of two brothers who live in the mountains with their old mother. The brothers are hunters, and their mother is very ill and frail due to her age. One night the two hunters decide to go deep into the woods in order to hunt deer. The brothers set traps for their prey, which they intend to kill with their arrows. While the younger of the brothers is setting up a trap near a tree, a pale white hand comes from above and grabs him from the hair, pulling him into the crop the tree. In panic, the captured hunter calls for help, and his older brother arrives with his bow and arrow ready to shoot. The shoot is difficult, but the hunter manages to save his brother, as the arrow severed the arm that was holding him. The two brothers check the amputated arm and discover it's a demon's arm. They decide to return home and take the arm with them. When they finally get home, the two hunters will make a shocking discovery, when they find that their mother is hurt, and her arm amputated.

As in most of his early shorts, the story of "Oni" was written by director Kihachiro Kawamoto himself, taking inspiration from ancient Japanese folklore. In "Oni", Kawamoto presents a fable which explores two main concepts: the fear and respect to the spirits of the woods, and most importantly, the fear of old age. In Kawamoto's "Oni", when age becomes too much for old people, they become demons willing to eat their own children. The demon in "Oni", originally a frail woman weakened by her old age, becomes a monster in order to devour her sons. However, while Kawamoto could make his story a full fledged horror tale, he actually makes of "Oni" a tragedy. After the horror has been overcame, what is left is an ominous sense of sadness. The woman's transformation is not only a horror, but a tragedy. It's not treated as something she willingly wants, but something that actually possesses her and dehumanizes her. This dehumanization of old people with age may be a commentary on the mental degeneration that old age can bring.

In "Oni", Kawamoto displays his craft at his best, showing not only his roots at Bunraku theatre, but also the great influence that Noh theatre had in his formative years. "Oni" works like a Noh play, though certainly, Kawamoto's film is anything but stagy. The camera-work is highly dynamic, and by creatively playing with light and shadows (work of cinematography by Minoru Tamura and Ken Yoshioka), Kawamoto gives his story a surreal atmosphere that suits perfectly the story's narrative style, which works like an ancient fable. In "Oni", Kawamoto creates one of his most impressive puppets in the Oni herself, which is based on the Japanese artistic representations of the demons. The stylish demonic face looks impressive when captured by the camera of Tamura and Yoshioka. The film is silent, and the story is narrated in intertitles. However, this aren't intertitles as those of classic silent cinema, but dynamic texts that move and fade following the film's visual design, flowing with its rhythm, being themselves an integral part of the film.

Visually breathtaking, and full of a haunting beauty, Kihachiro Kawamoto's "Oni" is a powerful fable that displays perfectly the craftsmanship of the legendary puppet maker. With its surreal cinematography and its brilliant music (a score in the traditional way by Seiji Tsuruzawa), "Oni" is almost like watching the traditional Japanese art forms come alive through the magic of cinema. Melancholic and ethereal, "Oni" is more than a supernatural horror film, it's a powerful drama that in barely 8 minutes presents the tragedy of losing oneself in old age. After "Oni", Kawamoto would continue working in several short films of the same style, in which he would tackle classic themes of Japanese folklore, creating several masterpiece of stop-motion animation in the process.

8/10
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Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora (1912)

Amongst the early animation pioneers, the name of Wladyslaw Starewicz stands as one of the most revolutionary animators of all time, as his work in puppetry and stop motion animation has proved to be enormously influential. Born in the Russian Empire (in what is now Lithuania) Starewicz entered animation while working at the Museum of Natural History in Kovno, back in 1910. Trying to make short educational documentaries for the museum, Starewicz found himself unable to film a battle between two stag beetles, which as nocturnal creatures weren't too keen of the lighting needed for filmmaking. An inspired Wladyslaw Starewicz decided to recreate it through stop motion animation and the result was "Lucanus Cervus". To this first puppet animation with insects followed many more, which earned Starewicz international acclaim thanks to the great care he put to his animation. Amongst his oeuvre, his most famous films remain his shorts with insects, of which the best known is a funny masterpieces titled "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" or "The Cameraman's Revenge".

In its barely 12 minutes of runtime, "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" tells the tale of Mr. and Mrs. Beetle, a normal looking marriage between insects. However, behind the apparent happiness of the Beetles household, Mrs. Beetle is having an affair with another insect while Mr. Beetle is at work. As soon as Mr. Beetle leaves the house, she calls her lover, an artist, to spend the afternoon with her. Nevertheless, the cuckold husband Mr. Beetle isn't exactly an example of fidelity himself, as he leaves work early to visit his favorite club, "The Gay Dragonlfy", where his mistress (a Dragonfly) sings and dances. However, a Grasshopper is also in love with the beautiful Miss Dragonfly, which results in him getting beaten by Mr. Beetle. However, Mr. Beetle doesn't know that the Grasshopper is a filmmaker, and he films Mr. Beetle's extramarital affair in order to have his revenge. Going back home, Mr. Beetle finds his wife's lover and also beats him out. After his violent outburst, Mr. Beetle decides to forgive Mrs. Beetle and takes her to the movies, not knowing that the cameraman is ready to show his film.

Written and directed by Wladyslaw Starewicz, "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" is apparently a pretty simple story about an adulterous couple (in fact a common topic in short comedies of the era), however, there's more than just that in Starewicz' film, as the movie also presents the possibility of film as evidence of an act. Cinema as a weapon of sorts as in a way, Mr. Grasshopper's camera becomes the instrument of his revenge revenge on Mr. Beetle. In his writing, Starewicz also shows a taste for irony in his sharp criticism of the hypocrisy of the social values of his time. This is best represented in the moment when Mr. Beetle discovers his wife's infidelity, as the cuckold husband becomes furious and, after beating the lover, shows his "generosity" and forgives his wife, even when it's already clear that he is not really an innocent beetle. Certainly, her posterior violent outburst is not caused by her husband's infidelity, but by his blatant hypocrisy.

However, beyond the film's touch of comedy (which is great), what truly makes "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" a remarkable movie is without a doubt the innovative use of puppet insects to tell the story. In "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" can be fully appreciated the great amount of care that filmmaker Wladyslaw Starewicz put into his projects, not only in the extraordinarily detailed props and costumes built for the movie (to the point that the Beetles wear boots), but in the extremely fluid stop motion animation he achieves. It's almost as if the insects were really riding motorbikes or operating a camera. Also, using purely visual narrative, Starewicz manages to give personality to his insects, he fully humanizes them in remarkable ways. This isn't an easy feat, because since Starewicz' puppets are real insects, they obviously lack facial expressiveness, so what Starewicz does is to use their actions to tell who these people are, showing an enormous understanding of cinema as a storytelling medium.

As written above, the work of Wladyslaw Starewicz would give the Russian filmmaker international acclaim, and the chance to keep improving his technique. Eventually, Starewicz would experiment with many other styles, including directing live action films (like "Noch pered Rozhdestvom"). The October revolution would briefly pause his career, as he and his family fled to Paris. It would be in France where Starewicz would polish his style and move towards a more surreal vein. Of great influence for animators across the globe, Starewicz' "Mest kinematograficheskogo operatora" remains a testament of its maker's great imagination and his great domain, not only of stop motion animation, but of cinema's purest visual narrative.

9/10
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Efpeum (1965)

The decade of the 1960s was a decade of many social changes across the globe, as a new generation was rising to find its place in history. Inevitably, such changes would be reflected in the arts, and in the case of cinema, in many places it meant the closure of an era, such as the decline of the American studio system or the end of the so-called Mexican "Golden Age". But it also meant the beginning of a new one. A renewal of ideas of sorts, reflected in the New Hollywood and the French Nouvelle Vague. In the South American country of Venezuela it meant the arrival of a new generation of filmmakers eager to break with the realist tradition of Venezuelan cinema. Amongst this new generation of filmmakers was Mauricio Odremán, a writer who had been working at several production companies and whose first produced screenplay was the 1964 film "Isla de Sal". Deeply interested in surrealism and metaphysics, Odremán reflected his ideas in a short film written and directed by him: Venezuela's first science fiction movie, "Efpeum".

"Efpeum", which actually stands for "Estructura Funcional para Encontrarse uno Mismo" (literally, "Functional Structure to Find Oneself"), begins at the University, where an Architect (Samuel Roldán) is giving a lecture about his new idea: a building, or better said, a structure that more than serving as a housing project could actually help its inhabitants to transcend this dimension. The audience explodes in laughter and the Architect is humiliated and leaves the University. He wanders around, until he is told that there's a man who can help him, an Alchemist (Carlos Guerrero). The Architect meets the Alchemist and explains his project, and proposes him to combine their knowledge in order to create EFPEUM. The Alchemist agrees somewhat reluctantly, and the two begin their work. The two of them have differences, but soon the Architect begins to learn the way of the Alchemist, who begins to consider the Architect as his equal. The arrival of the Alchemist's partner Andreina (Bertha Mantilla) will make them become one.

As can be imagined by the plot, Mauricio Odremán (who wrote the screenplay) uses the conceptions of science fiction in "Efpeum" as the way to express his metaphysical and philosophical beliefs. Basically, "Efpeum" is to the science fiction genre what Jodorowsky's "El Topo" is to the Western. In fact, while in terms of style there is no apparent influence from the Chilean filmmaker, thematically Odremán's "Efpeum" covers topics that are pretty similar to the ones explored by the director of "The Holy Mountain". In "Efpeum", Odremán implies the search for a higher state of mind, and represents two viewpoints in the film's two main characters. The Architect, symbol of reason, pursues knowledge and has the willpower to achieve the project, though his view is narrow due to what society has taught to him. The Alchemist, represents a knowledge closer to nature, a freedom the Architect lacks. However, both are needed to transcend, and the catalyst for this is the female figure, Andreina, and in sexual union the three of them become one.

Visually, Mauricio Odremán's film is a very symbolic work, in which the imagery captured by cinematographer Tony Rodríguez is of a quite allegoric nature. The world of Odremán is a desolated land, in which the human figures seem to be alone looking for meaning, while the University has an oppressive architecture, reminiscent of the German Expressionist style. In his vision of future, Odremán contrasts nature and science, echoing the themes of his screenplay, and this duality is played through the film in its many different set pieces. The narrative is disjointed, though not incoherent, and it follows several stages in the relationship between the Architect and the Alchemist as EFPEUM is being constructed and Andreina appears in their lives. Through the film, Odremán uses sound in pretty interesting and strange ways, aiming to disconcert and disturb in some way. However, the most bizarre of this is his use of romantic ballads to narrate passages of the story (for example, a love song to EFPEUM opens the film), which is quite odd to say the least.

The performances by the cast are a bit stagy, though given the allegorical nature of "EFPEUM", it's probably meant to be this way. Still, it's perhaps the film's weakest element, as the work is unfortunately of a mediocre quality. The only saving grace is Samuel Roldán, who plays the Architect, carrying the story with a natural charm and a certain dignity that makes the outlandish film a tad more believable. Sadly, it can't be said the same about fellow cast-members Carlos Guerrero and Bertha Mantilla. Guerrero, who plays the Alchemist, is too hammy in his role, and even given the nature of the film his work looks out of place. As the mystic Alchemist, Guerrero unfortunately makes more a parody of his role and diminishes the power of the film. However, even worse is Bertha Mantillo, who plays the Alchemist's partner Andreina. While Andreina is meant to represent the sensuous being, an unleashed magic in pure form, her performance is too wooden to be taken seriously, and sadly feels more like a robot than like the wild force of nature she should be.

As can be seen by now, Mauricio Odremán's "Efpeum" is not exactly the typical science fiction tale, it's more a full expression of its maker's metaphysical ideas. An allegoric exploration of themes in which the message between lines is far more important than the actual story. As written above, given its surreal take on philosophical themes, the cinema of Alejandro Jodorowsky could be a considered a close relative to Odremán's film, and as such, this 30 minutes short film is equally as cryptic. However, "Efpeum" suffers of several problems that somewhat difficult its enjoyment. Not only the afore mentioned low quality of the performances is off putting, what's perhaps the greatest problem in Odremán's film is how badly it has aged. And this is not about any technical issue, but about Odremán's abuse of distorted pop culture elements, particularly his use of very 60s romantic ballads, which with time has stopped from being daring or avant-garde and has become pure kitsch.

Certainly a product of its time, "Efpeum" belongs to the most reactionary style of filmmaking of the 1960s. Completely beyond of any classification (certainly, the science fiction genre is only the one that seems to describe it best), Mauricio Odremán's film is one that despite not having aged that well, still can be a fascinating glimpse to the mind of its maker and the topics that interested him. Of great historical importance, this first Venezuelan science fiction film can be difficult to appreciate given its allegorical nature and crude style, though it's still a fascinating example of Latin American surrealism.

6/10
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Barney Oldfield's Race for a Life (1913)

Know during his lifetime as "The King of Comedy", Canadian filmmaker Mack Sennett was one of the greatest innovators of slapstick in the silent cinema of Hollywood. While also an actor, his greatest contributions were as producer and director at Keystone Studios, were he developed his trademark style of slapstick comedy and launched the careers of a notable group of actors, including Mabel Normand, Ford Sterling, the Keystone Kops and most notably, Charlie Chaplin. Having started his career as an actor at Biograph Studios, Mack Sennett's career owed a lot to legendary filmmaker D. W. Griffith, who directed him in several of his early short films. This experienced allowed Sennett to be a first hand witness of the development of Griffith's narrative style. "Barney Oldfield's Race for a Life" is a short film in which Mack Sennett actively parodies Griffith, particularly his common topic of last minute rescues. And to do it he had the aid of the most famous race driver of his time: Barney Oldfield himself.

In "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life", Mabel Normand plays Mabel, a young beautiful woman in love with her boyfriend (Mack Sennett). However, a villianous man (Ford Sterling) also wants her, and makes several advances towards Mabel. The young woman rejects him strongly, and this enrages the villain, who decides to kidnapp Mabel and in vengeance, chain her to a railroad track. Then the evil man finds a locomotive and lets it loose in order to fulfill his revenge. When her boyfriend discovers this, he now must has to race to save her before the train kills her. Fortunately for the hero, the famous racer Barney Oldfield is in town, so he asks for the help of the legendary Oldfield to save Mabel's life. So both men jump into Oldfield's Blitzen Benz and race against the train, hoping to arrive to Mabel's spot before the locomotive kills her, in a dangerous adventure that will also involve a group of bumbling policemen, who also are on the race riding a small handcar through the railroad.

As written above, this Sennett production has a lot in common with D. W. Griffith's popular "last minute rescues" in the sense that it's based on the concept of having a trapped victim (Mabel in this case) and a hero running to save her from an impending doom (the train). It's a plot that Griffith had been doing since his earliest work ("The Adventures of Dollie", 1908) and had been perfecting ever since; and in fact, Sennett himself appeared in one of the best know of them: "The Lonely Villa". However, Sennett of course takes everything to the extreme to make a parody of it, with of course the inclusion of the staple of the company (the ineffectual police) and the celebrity of the day (Barney Oldfield). Certainly, the film's a cleverly devised cocktail of thrills, however, what's perhaps the greatest contribution to the history of cinema is one single iconic image: Ford Sterling as a mustahcoid villain tying Mabel Normand to the racetracks. An image so strong that nowadays is more famous than the film that originated it.

As a matter of fact, the image includes the two most talented members of the film's cast: Ford Sterling and Mabel Normand. While the film is suppoused to be a vehicle for Barney Oldfield and has Sennett himself as the protagonist, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" belong entirely to Ford Sterling in his performance as the villanous man rejected by Mabel. In one of his most accomplished performances for Sennet, the original 'Chief Teeheezel'of the Keystone Cops takes the villain role and delivers a classy demonstration of how to properly overact. While the role is certainly an archetype, Sterling makes it his own and creates an icon. The talented Mabel Normand may not have a lot of space to shine in this film, but she showcases the natural charm and flair for comedy that made her a star. Unfortunately, his counterpart (and real life lover), Mack Sennett himself is not a particularly likeable hero, and his performance is quite weak. Barney Oldfield simply plays himself, and for the most part, isn't bad at it.

While there's a group of bumbling policemen on the race too, it's not clear if they are the classic Keystone Kops or a variation on the same theme. Since they are not exactly the stars of the film, it's hard to know (and the ending is particularly gloom for the policemen), though the basis is the same. Nevertheless, the movie is entirely based on the last minute rescue situation that has Oldfield as the star. This is perhaps the root of the film's problems, as neither Sennett nor Oldfield make for good protagonists. While the villain is well drawn, the heroes are very thinly developed. Certainly, Sennett achieves a great thrilling race sequence, following Griffith's technique to the letter and actually adding nicely the comedy elements. Nevertheless, there's some spark missing, and that would be the lack of an appropriate protagonist to balance Sterling's villain, as whenever Sterling is not onscreen, the film goes down. Perhaps making it a proper Keystone Kops film would had helped it.

Anyways, while probably not exactly one of Sennett's best films, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" is without a doubt a movie of hight historical value, as the origin of one of the classic images of cinema. To fans of motor sports, it's also interesting to watch Barry Oldfield on screen, a legend of his time (he was the first driver to run a mile track in one minute flat or 60 miles per hour) who seems to be a tad forgotten in these modern days. While not entirely succesful, "Barry Oldfield's Race for a Life" is still a pretty fun and entertaining short film that in its parodic way, contains one of the best accomplished examples of the classic "last minute rescue" that Griffith had developed.

6/10
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Yira, yira (1930)

Certainly, one of the greatest figures of Argentina is without a doubt singer, songwriter and actor Carlos Gardel. The most prominent figure in the history of Tango revolutionized the culture of his time that despite having died tragically at the height of his career (in a plane crash), his name is the one most often associated with the culture and music of Argentina. Born in 1890, Gardel arrived to Buenos Aires at a very young age, and grew up in the Abasto neighborhood. Like many singers of his time, Gardel began his career working at bars, but soon his singing talent and charming look took him to the studio to make recordings in 1917. That very same year cinema found Gardel, and his talent made its way into the film "Flor de Durazno". Naturally, Gardel's career on cinema didn't make much progress in the silent era, so he focused on singing. However, by 1930 sound in film was now a reality, and so Gardel and cinema met again, in an early series of musical short films directed by sound pioneer Eduardo Morera.

"Yira, yira" (often known in English as "Go round... and round...") is one of those musical shorts, which basically consisted in an introduction to the song and then the execution of the song by Gardel himself. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is done by Gardel and the song composer, the legendary Enrique Santos Discépolo (at the time a young 29 years old man), with Gardel asking Enrique Santos about the meaning of the song. Enrique explains Carlos that the song is about despair, hopelessness and loneliness; to which Carlos answers surprised that such is the feeling he had received from the song. Enrique praises Gardel's singing, though Carlos wonders with a little naiveté if the song's main character is a good man despite the brooding tone. Enrique makes a joke about it, which Carlos doesn't seem to catch at first, though he later does and both men laugh. The film then cuts to Gardel's interpretation of Santos Discépolo's "Yira, yira", with a musical group.

As in most of Morera's shorts, the centerpiece of the film is Gardel's singing "Yira, yira", however, the introductions to the songs, while probably scripted by Morera or Gardel, give a glimpse of the magnetic personality that the famous singer had. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is twice interesting as it showcases Enrique Santos Discépolo, the composer of this popular tango. Whether the dialogs recited were scripted or are in fact improvised is sadly not known, though two things can be noted in the film: the great camaraderie and respect between both artists, and the natural charm and ease in front of the camera that Gardel displays. It's clear that both Morera and Gardel understood very well the possibilities of the film, and thus the image of the singer is carefully detailed in the brief introduction. Gardel is shown as a humble singer, respectful of the composer, and owner of a child-like curiosity. The fact that Morera makes the joke be on Gardel is part of this: Gardel owns the spotlight, but he shares it willingly with his friends. With his people.

Now, the interpretation Gardel makes of "Yira, yira" is one of his best, capturing in his performance the very same feeling of despair and loneliness that Enrique Santos Disépolo was explaining in the introduction. The touch of irony that the song has is not lost, though perhaps a bit diminished by Gardel's strongly melancholic performance, which adds a bit of optimism to the song. Tango singing (specially of Gardel's time) often requires a bit of dramatic emphasis on the voice, not only because of its common themes of loneliness and lost love, but also because of its very rhythm. In this aspect, Gardel delivers a masterful performance, and "Yira, yira" proves that Morera wasn't wrong when he decided that no matter what may had happened in the failed experience of "Flor de Durazon", Carlos Gardel was truly worthy material for cinema. In the introduction, Carlos Gardel wonders if the character is a good man. In his performance, it's clear that when Gardel sings it, the brooding main character is a good man indeed.

As expected from an early experiment in sound film, Morera's set up is fairly basic, with cinematographer Antonio Merayo framing both scenes (introduction and performance) in a simple yet effective manner. Certainly, Merayo's work is much more interesting when Gardel is singing, though that's perhaps the result of a directorial decision rather than a flaw on Merayo's side. "Yira, yira", along nine other of Morera's short films were later compiled in 1931 to form a longer movie called "Diez canciones de Gardel" or "Encuadre de canciones" (literally "Ten songs by Gardel" or "Assortment of songs"); however, Morera's shorts work much better on their own, as they were intended to be. In this aspect, Morera's Gardel shorts can be seen as precursors of modern music videos. Given the quality of Gardel's performance, and the fact that Morera's succeeded in what he was set to achieve (to prove Gardel could be a major film star), it can be said that his humble experimental short films more than fulfilled its goal.

10/10
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Muerte al invasor (1961)

In 1961, a CIA-trained group of Cuban exiles launched an attempt to overthrow the recently formed Cuban government of Fidel Castro. The operation, codenamed operation Zapata, was supported by the US government and involved landing the beaches of Bahía de Cochinos (Bay of Pigs), east of the Zapata peninsula in Cuba. The invasion was unsuccessful, as the Cuban armed forces defeated the invaders within three days. The failed invasion had as main consequence a much stronger nationalism and greater support for Castro's government in Cuba. This conflict later became known in Cuba as The Battle of Playa Girón (Battle of Girón beach), and in the US as the Bay of Pigs Invasion. Given the great importance that Cuban government gave to cinema, the Instituto Cubano del Arte y la Industria Cinematográphicos (ICAIC) sent a team of war correspondents to cover the event. Amongst them was Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, who constructed a short documentary film about the invasion for the ICAIC's newsreel of Santiago Álvarez: "Muerte al Invasor".

"Muerte al Invasor" (literally "Death to the Invader") is composed of the images captured by Gutiérrez Alea and his team of cameramen: Mario Ferrer, Pablo Martínez and Julio Simoneau. The narration, quite probably written by ICAIC director Alfredo Guevara and voiced by Julio Batista, details the events of the invasion, chronicling the three days of battle while at the same time glorifying the efforts of the Cuban people and its leaders. Given its nature as a documentary meant for a newsreel, its propagandistic goal is more than evident, with the defeated invaders constantly labeled as traitors and oppressors from previous government. The US support to the invaders is also a point discussed extensively in the film, noting the US' effort to overthrow the Cuban socialist government, and describing the covert nature of the operation as an example of imperialist treachery. In fact the film's subtitle describes the invasion as an imperialist aggression. "Muerte al Invasor" is certainly a film with an agenda, so subtlety is not one of its assets.

There has been much debate about who was actually behind the creation of "Muerte al Invasor", with supporters from both Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez claiming sole credit for the film. The film does show early signs of both directors' styles: traces of Álvarez' innovative "nervous montage" can be felt through the film, while on the other side, the images that make up the documentary have the distinguished style of Gutiérrez Alea. And speaking of the images, the images captured on the film are not only of great historical interest, there is a certain raw beauty in some of them that truly portray the spirit of a nation defending itself. Forgetting the jingoistic narration and without taking a political side, those images speak a lot about a young nation that still believed in an ideal, and fought for it. The eloquence of the images in "Muerte al Invasor" give ground to the argument for Gutiérrez Alea as the sole director, but in the end, this newsreel piece may have as much contribution from him, as from Álvarez and even Guevara.

As written above, "Muerte al Invasor" was clearly conceived as a propaganda piece, with its latent glorification of the Cuban nation and its relentless demonization of the imperialist invaders. And this is perhaps the weakest side of the film, as despite the power of its images, the narrative is slow and even dull. Narrator Julio Batista's lack of emotion doesn't help to this, as he remains calm and monotone in his speech, akin to the narrator of a science documentary. As a propaganda piece, it does fulfill its purpose, but it somewhat lacks the vibrant energy of Soviet or posterior Cuban propagandistic cinema. The film's true strength, is clearly in its images and montage, which showcases the talents of its makers and offers a glimpse to their posterior careers. The contrast in quality between the images on film and the written narration is so big that the film could easily work better without the narration. The eye of the young Cuban cinema was enough to tell the story of their victory, no need for added glorification.

"Muerte al Invasor" may not be the best example of the cinema of Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez, though it's certainly a quite interesting film to watch to notice the development that took place for both two filmmakers, later celebrated stars of the Golden Age of Cuban cinema. In a film like "Muerte al Invasor", which clearly has its defined goal and political agenda, it's always difficult to separate the politics from the film, but in this case, whether one agrees or not with its arguments, one thing is clear: with their images and montage, filmmakers Tomás Gutiérrez Alea and Santiago Álvarez have truly captured the face and spirit of a young nation finding itself.

6/10
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Those Awful Hats (1909)

While often considered as one of the most (if not "THE" most) influential filmmakers of all time, American director David Wark Griffith started his career on film in 1908 in a very humble way: as an actor in short films under the orders of film pioneer Edwin S. Porter, at the time head of Edison's Film Studio. Griffith's luck would change soon, as that very same year he was offered the chance to direct shorts for the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company. Biograph's main director Wallace McCutcheon fell ill and soon there was the need to find a replacement. Griffith took the job and it was there where he truly fell in love with cinema. In less than a year, Griffith mastered the craft, soon becoming acquainted with medium's many tricks and techniques. 1908's short film "The Adventures of Dollie" was the first amongst his many hits. It wouldn't take him too long to start directing short films of excellent quality, a path that would culminate with the making of his first feature length masterpiece, 1915's movie "The Birth of a Nation".

One of the movies where the young Griffith began to show that mastery he had acquired so quickly was the short film "Those Awful Hats", a 2 and a half minutes movie done with the purpose of being a theatrical public service announcement (probably amongst the first of its kind) to be projected before the movies. In "Those Awful Hats", the action takes place during a typical screening in the nickelodeons of cinema's early years. The audience is enjoying a movie when suddenly, an arrogant gentleman (Mack Sennett) with a top hat enters the room and tries to find a seat for him and her companion. Loud and impolite, the man bothers the public constantly, making impossible to enjoy the show; however, this is not the audiences' main problem, as a group of ladies takes a seat and refuses to remove their big and ludicrous hats, an action that alienates even more the audience. Fortunately, the theater has an interesting and quite effective device to remove such undesirable elements: a giant steel bucket. And fortunately, it also removes undesirable people!.

Ordered by the heads of Biograph to conceive a short movie to tell the females among the audience to please remove their bothersome hats while attending a screening, D.W. Griffith wrote and directed this very creative announcement that is both funny and informative at the same time. Making fun of the big hats that were fashionable in those years, Griffith put on film what many audiences have desired to have at least once, a machine created to remove the troublesome persons among the audience. Using a mixture of special effects techniques (mainly the Dunning-Pomeroy Matte process), Griffith created a film that shows a very early use of the technique that decades later would evolve into the green-screen technique. Not only he managed to put a film within a film, but also created an extremely good effect of a steel bucket pulling out stuff (and persons!) from the audience. Griffith showcases an inventive use of special effects, and also an ability at getting the very natural performances from his cast, as their reactions are believable and the use of slapstick very appropriate.

The gag is simple, but very effective, and it constituted one of the earliest examples of a public announcement devised to be shown before the feature films (a concept still used today in most theaters). While not exactly on the level of many of his better known masterpieces, "Those Awful Hats" is a very funny and historically important short movie that can give us an idea of how was cinema in the past, and how it seems that we as audience haven't changed that much in more than a century of film-making. It is also a testament of the how Griffith was always willing to experiment as all as of the mastery he had achieved in only a year making movies. Despite its short length, "Those Awful Hats" is definitely one of the most enjoyable Griffith shorts, as it shows that the director of Biograph's many drama and adventure films was also able to laugh.

7/10

Le président en promenade (1896)

In 1895, the debut of the Lumières' Cinématographe truly marked the beginning of a new era of entertainment, and the birth of a new art form. Edison's Kinetoscope was already well known, so the idea of motion pictures wasn't really new; however, the major difference between the Kinetoscope and the the Cinématographe was that the former was an individual experience and the latter a collective one. Their first movies consisted mainly of images from everyday life in movies named "actuality films", which depicted life as it is and technically were the precursors of modern documentaries. Soon the demand for more movies for the Cinématographe grew, and the brothers began to train camera operators to send all over the world, in order to produce more actuality films with scenes from across the globe (and of course, to take their invention to other markets). Mexico, under the rule of president Porfirio Díaz, was one of the first countries to welcome the Lumières' new creation, and cinematographer Gabriel Antoine Veyre was the man in charge of taking cinema to the Mexican lands in 1896.

"Le président en promenade" (better known by its Spanish title "El presidente de la republica paseando a caballo en el bosque de Chapultepec" or "The president riding his horse in Chapultepec forest") was one of the first amongst Veyre's shorts made specifically about president Díaz. It showcases the president riding his horse through Chapultepec (a still popular walk in Meixco's capital) and arriving to a place where he meets a soldier. They exchange words and then the president seems to wait something. Later, Díaz returns from where he came followed by the group that was apparently waiting for him. Several other citizens are seen walking through Chapultepec forest in an otherwise normal day in the city. Díaz seems to really understand the impact that cinema could have in the audiences so, aware that this film was to be seen across the globe, Díaz rides his horse in front of the camera, in an imposing and knightly stance with the dignity of a great ruler. Like most of the Lumières'actuality films, Veyre's had this done in one single take without moving the camera.

President Porfirio Díaz had been ruling Mexico since 1876, in what effectively was a dictatorship, nowadays known as the Porfiriato. Those were years of a totalitarian control of power, suppression of opposing media, and several other injustices; however, those were also years of great progress and economic development for the country. This progress was a direct result of Díaz' desire of bringing modernity to Mexico and his openness to industrial and technological inventions. Naturally, cinema attracted him so, his government welcomed Gabriel Veyre and the Cinématographe with open arms. During his visit, Veyre captured many scenes of Mexican life, staged what could probably the first Mexican fiction movie ("Un duelo a pistola en el bosque de Chapultepec", or "A duel with pistols at Chapultepec forest") and followed president Díaz in his everyday life. Díaz seems to have enjoyed this films so much, clearly understanding the value of cinema in public relations, so there are many scenes of Díaz walking, riding, working, essentially making the president the very first star of Mexican cinema.

Like many other countries, Mexico fell under the spell of the Cinématographe, and Veyre's visit captured the imagination of many businessmen and artists in the country. Cinema, like many other inventions, was welcomed and supported by the government and soon, the public's demand was greater than the offer. This resulted in the birth of Mexican cinema, with the distributors being forced to make their own material when the French one proved to not be enough. Mexican Reolution of 1910 put an end to Díaz' government and borough greater changes to the country. Certainly, Díaz' regime had many problems and shortcomings; however, while the dictator and his regime may not had been the best for most Mexicans, credit goes to Díaz for having helped in the birth of Mexican cinema, and for being Mexico's first movie star.

8/10

Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan (1933)

Spanish filmmaker Luis Buñuel, considered now a master of cinema and one of the greatest artists of surrealism, had quite a troubled career during his first 10 years as a director. Having worked closely with Jean Epstein as assistant director, Buñel debuted in 1929 with the short film "Un chien andalou" ("An Andalusian Dog"). The innovative, surreal short film (written by Buñuel and painter Salvado Dalí) faced great controversy on its release, but that was nothing compared to Buñuel's follow up: "L'Âge d'Or". Funded with the aid of French nobleman Vicomte Charles de Noailles and released in 1930, "L'Âge d'Or" ("The Golden Age") was a fierce and merciless attack to social conventions and the Catholic Church under the guise of an experimental comedy. Not surprisingly, the response against it was even larger, to the point that the Police of Paris effectively banned the film. After this controversy, Buñuel returned to Spain, where anarchist Ramón Acín decided to fund Buñuel's next project. This project turned out to be 1933's "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan".

"Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" (known in English as "Land without Bread") is basically an exploration of the region of Las Hurdes, in Extremadura, Spain. The short documentary depicts the life in this high mountain region, as the crew moves from town to town, showcasing the difficulties the inhabitants face in this hostile region, which get worse due to the state of misery in which they live. Poverty, hunger and disease haunt the villagers, and their only way they have to face those demons are their own set of superstitious beliefs (which sometimes turn up to be remedies of even worse consequences). Buñuel's travelogue moves from one bleak image to another, covering the way the inhabitants of Las Hurdes live, die, work and try to find some solace amidst the darkness. Education, farming and health care in Las Hurdes is showcased as deficient, as the film is actually a harsh attack to the government's policies. While originally a silent film, a narration in French by Abel Jacquin was added afterwards, that describes the events depicted in a very grim and detailed manner.

Given Buñuel's reputation as a master of surrealism and creator of oniric images, the idea of a documentary crafted by him sounds a bit strange; however, in "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan", realism and surrealism collide and result in a powerful hybrid vehicle to deliver Buñuel's message. Written by Buñuel along Rafael Sánchez Ventura and Pierre Unik (who were assistant directors), "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" was inspired by Maurice Legendre's study of the region's inhabitants. This very real ethnographic work served as basis to the surreal vision of misery that is "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan". A bleak world so real that ultimately feels unreal, enhanced by Buñuel's eye becomes surreal. Surrealism in "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" exists, and is present not to create fantasy, but to accentuate reality. To exaggerate it, to mercilessly use the documentary format to make a point because, "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" is anything but objective. Already a true master of visual symbolism, Buñuel uses images the way Soviet filmmakers used montage.

Of course, there is a certain degree of truth in the film, people of Las Hurdes in those years did live in extreme conditions and poverty and disease were the norm; however, Buñuel carefully has selected (or even created) the appropriate images and the necessary words to bring out the emotions in his audience, to transmit that bleak atmosphere of Las Hurdes and, most importantly, to deliver profoundly his arguments. And those arguments are quite harsh: that the people of Las Hurdes are primitive ignorants prone to superstitions and inbreeding (an stereotype as old as Lope de Vega), and that the government does nothing to improve their condition. Pretty strong accusations in the middle of the political turmoil that was prevalent in Spain during the 30s (Civil War would soon begin in 1936). And the way Buñuel delivers it is quite powerful: Eli Lotar's cinematography captures the misery of Las Hurdes with real documentarian eye, and it is Buñuel's editing and narrative what makes those images transcend reality.

The bold decision of making "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" was not without its consequences: the film was banned in Spain since its release until Spanish Civil War began. Ramón Acín, the producer, was killed by fascists in 1936 because of his anarchist activities. Buñuel, like many Spaniard artists and intellectuals of his time, decided to move to America, escaping from the fascist regime of Francisco Franco. Buñuel would not direct a film until 1947. After a brief season in the U.S., Buñuel traveled to Mexico, and it would be in Mexico where Buñuel's talent would bloom again. Visually strong, and highly inventive, "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" is a documentary film ahead of its time, and a movie that shows the growing talent of Luis Buñuel.

8/10

Un Chien Andalou (1929)

One of the most famous short films in the world is definitely Luis Buñuel's debut, "Un Chien Andalou" (literally, "An Andalusian Dog"), and not without a reason, as this 16 minute film's influence extents beyond the cinema and is considered a milestone of the surrealist movement of the late 20s. After watching Fritz Lang's "Der müde Tod" in 1921), Buñuel became fascinated with cinema, and decided to learn as much as possible about it. He became acquainted with filmmaker Jean Epstein and began to work with him as an assistant in Epstein's "Mauprat", and also looked for work in every production he could. Through this experiences, Buñuel not only learned the technique of filmmaking, but also met some of the cast and crew that would help him in his first experiment. 1929 saw the release of the brainchild of director Luis Buñuel and painter Salvador Dalí, "Un Chien Andalou", which has become an enormously influential work of art, necessary to understand the work of these two masters of surrealist art.

Conceived as a series of scenes without an apparent order, the film has no explicit plot and instead it follows a dream logic where the "dreams" share only actors, characters, themes or motifs, without being explicitly "connected". This logic (or lack of logic) makes the film very much akin to Freudian free association, as while there is no apparent link between the scenes, a subliminal bond exists between them, making "Un Chien Andalou" an visual experiment that expresses the dreams that its creators had. The surreal scenes include the famous scene where a woman's eye is slit by a razor blade, an androgynous woman poking at a severed hand in the street with her cane and ants emerging from a man's hand. It's definitely a pure and raw form of surrealism that attempts to provoke feelings and emotions with its images rather than with its storytelling. It is not that he film lacks any meaning, but that such meaning is expressed in symbols, not with words. It is because of this domain of image and symbology over any traditional plotline that "Un Chien Andalou" has been labeled as a precursor of modern music videos.

Due to its nature, the film depends on the visual impact of its images, and Buñuel manages to make the most of his resources giving the scenes a haunting beauty and a powerful impact to its meaning. It was not only a surrealist statement, "Un Chien Andalou" was also Buñuel's experimenting with film and learning a lot in the process. Cinematographer Albert Duverger, whom first met Buñuel on Epstein's film "Mauprat", employs a quite dynamic technique for its time; and with clever use of lighting, creates an unsettling atmosphere that conveys that aura of mystery and fantasy that exists in dreams. Following the film's dream logic, one could say that Duverger and Buñuel achieve to make the movie flow from dream to nightmare and viceversa. Rich in symbols (that may or may no thave any real meaning) and full of haunting images, "Un Chien Andalou" is certainly one of the movies in which the visuals carry the sense of story in its most extreme form. While unsettling at times and definitely aggressive, the movie is a joy to watch even when the experience is more akin to watch moving canvas rather than a movie the way we are used to it.

The film is hard to understand, and ambiguous enough to the point that probably only Buñuel and Dalí knew exactly what it was supposed to mean. However, that's probably the point of it, to create emotions rather than to simply transmit them. As he states in his autobiography ("My Last Sigh", 1983), the film was made with the intentions that "no idea or image that might lend itself to a rational explanation of any kind would be accepted". In the way that Dalí made his paints, Buñuel crafted his entrance to the artform that would become his life. While one could nitpick the production values of the film (or the acting, which at times is a bit awkward), the whole artistic meaning of "Un Chien Andalou" minimize those problems to the point of making them irrelevant. The whole dreamlike imagery that Buñuel and Dalí have created in this short film trascended the normal way of storytelling, and finished to create the surrealist cinema. It's not a movie easy to like, but it's certainly one impossible to forget,

"Un Chien Andalou" is definitely one of Buñuel's most important films, not only viewing it globally, as a landmark of the surrealist movement; but also on a personal way, as the many things Buñuel himself learned during the process of making it had an enormous influence over his career. While both Buñuel and Dalí feared a bad response from the public, "Un Chien Andlou" became quite popular, and became the beginning of Buñuel's promising career (a career that was unfortunately put temporarily on stand by because of the Spanish Civil War). Original, thought-provoking and enormosuly ambiguous, this short film is a must-see not only for Buñuel fans, but also for everyone interested in film as an art form.

9/10

Alive in Joburg (2005)

During the year of 2009, South African filmmaker Neill Blomkamp saw the release of his first feature-length project, the science fiction film "District 9", an interesting mix of mock documentary and action film that narrated the attempt to relocate a race of extraterrestrial creatures stranded in Johannesburg, South Africa. Dealing with themes such as xenophobia and segregation with humor and intelligence, "District 9" was a breath of fresh air for the science fiction genre and launched Blomkamp's career to new heights. The interesting thing is that the origins of "District 9"'s concept go back as far as to 2005, when Blomkamp directed the short film that would make him to get noticed: "Alive in Joburg". Produced by Simon Hansen and Sharlto Copley (whom would later star in "District 9"), "Alive in Joburg" is a six minute short film where Blomkamp first explored the idea of a mock documentary about stranded aliens facing xenophobia. A lot of what "District 9" is can be seen in "Alive in Joburg", as it's the first step in Blomkamp's promising career.

Shot in documentary style, "Alive in Joburg" is set in Johannesburg in 1990, in the middle of the apartheid era. Only that to make things worse, a large group of extraterrestrial refugees have arrived to the city, leaving their large spaceships hovering above the city. Initially welcomed by the humans, the extraterrestrial population soon becomes a social problem in the already conflicted Johannesburg. Whole owners of weaponry and technology superior to humans, the aliens have frequent clashes with the police, and engage in a lot of the city's crime. Like a real documentary, "Alive in Joburg" attempts to explore the aliens' perspective as well, hinting that aliens may have this behavior after being segregated and forced to live in terrible conditions. There are also interviews with the human population of Johannesburg which show how the aliens are seen as a plague, specially since they are in conflict with the already segregated black-population of the city. Tension grows when it is discovered that the ships steal resources from Earth to survive.

As one can easily imagine, "Alive in Joburg" is a commentary on the apartheid era that took place in South Africa from 1948 to 1994, as well as on the social problems that are still relevant in the country. Focused on the humans' reaction to the aliens, the documentary consists mainly on brief interviews with the inhabitants of the city, in which we get a glimpse of the social conflicts that arise between the extraterrestrial refugees and humans. Director Neill Blomkamp never fails to maintain the realist style of his movie, and that's precisely the reason of the success of his satire: the serious tone of the film increases the reality of the story, and since "Alive in Joburg" is mainly a reflection of what happens in South Africa, it's not difficult to imagine that the events that take place in the movie are exactly what would happen if such thing happened in real life. Between the interviews there are "news footage" scenes that depict life in Johannesburg after the extraterrestrial arrival, where their technological advantages can be appreciated.

Showcasing a great work of visual effects (by Blomkamp himself), these scenes are truly amazing, mainly one in which an alien wearing an armor fights two police officers. Considering Blomkamp's background as a professional animator, it could be easy to think that "Alive in Joburg" is an exercise to show off his skills with visual effects, but the short film truly has a value beyond nice visual effects, as Blomkamp's use of the mock documentary genre to offer social cometary is worth mentioning. While perhaps a bit too preachy for its own good, "Alive in Joburg" is still a good example of an intelligent use of comedy and science fiction to carry a message in a short film. Flowing at a nice rhythm, the work of editing done in the film is quite good, and truly captures the feeling of a real informative documentary. The performances in the film are for the most part good, although it's safe to say that "Alive in Joburg" is more an exercise in storytelling for Blomkamp than one about directing actors.

Fresh, original and full of charm, "Alive in Joburg" was the short film that paved the way for Blomkamp, as not only it took him to direct the "Landfall" shorts (three short films done to promote the release of the "Halo 3" video game), but when the "Halo" movie project fell, Blomkamp developed the world of this short film into his feature-length debut, "District 9". Perhaps "Alive in Joburg" is not a perfect film, but considering its ambitions, its limitations and what it ultimately achieved, it's really amazing what producers Simon Hansen and Sharlto Copley, along director Neill Blomkamp managed to do with it. Truly the proof that all that's needed is to have imagination and talent.

8/10

Le chaudron infernal (1903)

While an enormously influential pioneer on the field of special effects, French director Georges Méliès was oddly not that interested in making color films in his career. The reasons behind this apparent lack of interest were probably related to how costly and laborious was the process of hand-coloring frame by frame, as while his first hand-colored movie was done in 1897 ("L'Hallucination De l'Alchimiste"), he wouldn't attempt to make another one until 1903, when the hand-colored movies done by Edison's Studios became to be as popular as his films. That year, right after the enormous success of his masterpiece, "Le Voyage Dans la Lune" ("A Trip to the Moon"), Méliès directed 3 shorts that he colored himself: "La Guirlande Merveilleuse", "Le Cake-walk infernal" and "Le Chaudron infernal". Of the three, "Le Chaudron infernal" (or "The Infernal Cauldron") is the most well-known, mainly because this film followed Méliès' interest in the horror genre.

"Le Chaudron infernal" (also known as "The Infernal Boiling Pot" by some sources) is a movie about an evil green-skinned Demon (Georges Méliès, of course), who works as an executioner in Hell. Another demon in charge of bringing him the condemned, begins his work by sending a woman to the Executioner, who joyfully ties her and throws her into the big cauldron he has in his room. His assistant brings him another two condemned, this time two male courtiers, who follow the woman to her fate inside the boiling pot. As the bodies enter the cauldron the infernal flames grow bigger and reach an enormous size. After putting the three inside the cauldron, the Demon stirs up the remains and suddenly the smoke that comes from the cauldron begins to form images that resemble the bodies of the condemned. Realizing that this are the souls trying to escape, the Demon will raise the fire from Hell to stop them from escaping.

Among Méliès' many fantasy films, "Le Chaudron infernal" is definitely one of the most impressive of all despite its short runtime, as the addition of color takes the film to a whole new level, making Méliès' many tricks look even more amazing than before. To his usual array of dissolves and camera tricks, Méliès added the effects of drawing over the celluloid (an effect made famous years later by the "Godzilla" films of the 60s), using the hand-coloring technique not only to make the film look nicer, but to make an effect in itself. On a completely different subject, it's interesting to see that in this movie Méliès continues his preference for themes of horror and black magic, as he knows that it's in the horror genre where he'll be able to exploit his special effects to shock and impress his audience.

Being objective, the only problem of "Le Chaudron infernal" is definitely its runtime, as considering that by 1903 Georges Méliès had already done "Le Voyage Dans la Lune", one would think that this film is a bit too short. However, there is a reason for this considerably shorter runtime: it's short because the process of coloring the film was lengthy, and Méliès wasn't able to make longer colored films (and as written above, that's why he only made 7 colored shorts in his career). Despite this problems, "Le Chaudron infernal" is definitely one of the most interesting movies done by the legendary French magician, not only because of its inventive use of color as a special effect, but also because of its place in the history of the horror genre. This movie is definitely pure Cinemagic.

8/10

Dickson Experimental Sound Film (1894)

It was on a day in 1891 when Scottish inventor William K.L. Dickson surprised his boss, Thomas Alva Edison with his remarkable work in the development of motion pictures. After many experiments, Dickson was now able to capture scenes of real life with his camera, and reproduce them through his invention, the Kinetoscope, as if a fragment of time were preserved in celluloid. Soon, Dickson's Kinetoscope would become an enormous success as a new way of entertainment, with many people eager to pay the nickel that was charged to be able to watch people dancing, or acrobats performing stunts through the "peepshow" of the Kinetoscope. However, the invention wasn't complete, in order for it to capture on film the real life as we know it, sound was needed on the movies. So Dickson kept experimenting and this short experiment, Kinetophone's first film, was the result.

In this experiment, codenamed simply as "Dickson Experimental Sound Film", director William K.L. Dickson stands in front of a recording cone for a wax cylinder (earliest method of recording sound), with his violin on hands, playing a song named "Song of the Cabin Boy". The idea was to record the song into the cylinder at the same time that the camera was recording his movements. In order to show that this was a motion picture, two of Edison's "Black Maria" laboratory decided to do a little dance in front of the camera. Unlike what author Vito Russo claimed in his book, "The Celluloid Closet", this little dance had nothing to do with homosexuality as it obviously is a reference to the environment of loneliness of the lab, akin to the lonely sailors to whom the "Song of the Cabin Boy" was dedicated to (the title Russo suggests, "The Gay Brothers", is actually anachronistic as "gay" had no homosexual connotation in the late 1890s).

Sadly, Dickson was unable to achieve the desired effect, and the Kinetophone never could really produce the synchronized audio with images. While he had the cylinder with the sound and the celluloid with the images, the synchronization of the two elements was not exactly effective, and the sudden appearance of Auguste and Louis Lumière's Cinématographe prompted Edison's team to focus on projecting systems and eventually Dickson left the company. Fortunately, in 1998 Dickson's cylinder with the movie's sound was rebuilt and film editor Walter Murch made a restoration of the experiment as it was intended. Finally, "Dickson Experimental Sound Film" could be heard with synchronized sound, just as its creative inventor had intended. While it was not a successful attempt, this outstanding film is a testament of the enormous genius of the father of Kinetoscope.

8/10



Buy "Dickson Experimental Sound Film" and more American early films from 1894-1931

The Night Before Christmas (1905)

On December 23, 1823, an anonymous poem was published on the New York Sentinel that would redefine the American ideas about Santa Claus and his image: "A Visit from St. Nicholas". Later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, the poem describes a man awakening at night after hearing a noise only to discover St. Nicholas arriving to his house to deliver presents for the children. It describes St. Nick 's appearance and "working method", as well as his way of transportation and the names of his reindeer, completing the modern image of the old Christmastide visitor. More than 80 years later, the classic poem would find a new outlet in cinema, which still was a vibrant new art form with a language in constant development. After making the classic "The Great Train Robbery" (cinema's first Western), film pioneer Edwin S. Porter was the prime director at Edison Manufacturing Company, and on his hands fell the job of adapting the beloved poem to the new medium. It would be the first time Santa Claus would appear on the big screen.

Titled "The Night Before Christmas" (which is also another popular name of Moore's poem), the movie begins with Saint Nicholas feeding up his reindeer, preparing them for the big trip. Later, we see him giving the final touches to the toys at his workshop. In the mean time, a family is celebrating Christmas with a dinner, but the kids are already preparing themselves to go to bed, but not without first hanging their socks by the chimney. The kids can't really sleep with all the excitement, and they start a pillow fight, however, sleep ends up taking them all. Just before leaving the North Pole, Santa Claus gives a final checking to his book, and then he flies away on his sled to fulfill his yearly mission. Saint Nicholas arrives to the family's house, where as usual, he makes his way in through the chimney. Inside the room, Saint Nicholas not only delivers the presents into the children's socks, but also using his magic, he makes a beautiful Christmas tree appear along many presents more. The family will find a great surprise the following morning.

It's not clear who adapted the poem (probably Porter himself, but it can't be verified), but what's clear is that "The Night Before Christmas" is more or less a pretty straightforward adaptation of the classic Christmas poem, as it shows Saint Nicholas' visit to a family on Christmas' eve and it even uses bits of the poem as intertitles. The short film also makes some changes and additions, like for example, the scenes detailing Saint Nicholas' preparations for the trip and his work at the North Pole; however, the most interesting change is the fact that the witness of Saint Nicholas' visit is no longer a character of the story (the poem is written in first person, as the recounting of a witness), but us, the audience. Through the camera's eye (proof that it has always had something of a voyeur in it), we become witnesses of the magic of Christmas and, like the character in Moore's poem, not only see St. Nick delivering happiness to the children of the house, but also become his partners in crime.

Director Edwin S. Porter created his version of "The Night Before Christmas" employing the cross-cutting editing style that he had been employed since "Life of an American Fireman" and most notably, in "The Great Train Robbery" (both in 1903). This use of editing makes the film quite dynamical, however, this time the focus is more on the special effects than on the storytelling, and to achieve Saint Nicholas' magic Porter uses all the tricks he knows, and borrows a couple more from the filmmaker he admired the most: Georges Méliès. This is most notorious in the wonderful scene of Saint Nicholas' sled dashing swiftly through the mountains before flying away, which was achieved using beautifully designed models and a clever mechanical devise. The idea of course comes from Méliès' 1904 masterpiece, "Le Voyage à travers l'impossible", where a similar model is used for "The Impossible Carriage". Still, the fact that the idea was borrowed from another film doesn't diminish the merit of a scene like this one, which showcases a lot of talent on the side of the crew.

Many early filmmakers borrowed tricks from each other (Porter's own "The Great Train Robbery" was copied almost frame by frame by Siegmund Lubin in 1904), but Edwin S. Porter was one of the few who could imprint his own style despite of it. The key was that Porter wasn't interested in merely copying a film, but in using a trick or two from one film into a completely different one, often making some improvements in the process. When the movies are based on storytelling, Porter is a great director, but for films based on special effects, Méliès was the one to go. Still, while this time Porter can't beat Méliès' superior artistry in terms of film-making, his rendition of "The Night Before Christmas" is very bit as magical as the poem where it originates. And that's definitely quite an achievement.

7/10



Buy "The Night Before Christmas" (1905) and other early holiday films
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Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

Boo (1932)

Whenever someone talks about horror movies of the 30s, the words "Universal Horror" always have to appear sometime during the conversation, as the importance of the movies done by Universal Studios in that decade is simply unquestionable. While Universal Horror was technically born in the 20s, it was in 1931 when it truly became a synonym of high quality fantasy stories, as it was in that year when the two first films of the "Golden Age" were released: Tod Browning's "Dracula" and James Whale's "Frankenstein". Based on classics of Gothic literature, both films became instant hits and transformed their lead actors (Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff respectively) into legends. Due to their great success, the two films quickly entered our pop culture as the ultimate monster films; iconic movies that not only influenced every horror film done afer them, but also became the default idea of Gothic horror. "Boo", a 1932 short comedy film produced by Universal, is an early example of this, as it basically parodies Universal Gothic horror.

In "Boo", a Man (Morton Lowry) is decided to have nightmares, so following the advice of the Narrator (possibly director Albert DeMond himself), whom considers nightmares as "the cheapest form of amusement", he has a heavy dinner made of lobster and milk, and reads a horror novel before going to sleep. Our hero has read Bram Stoker's "Dracula", so as soon as he falls asleep, he begins to dream the horror of his lifetime. In his dream, he sees Dracula (archive footage of Max Schreck from 1922's "Nosferatu") preying on helpless humans and sucking their blood. To our hero's horror, Frankenstein's Monster (archive footage of Boris Karloff in 1931's "Frankenstein") also appears on his dream, and the Monster is willing to prey on humans too just as the vampire Count does. However, something is not right with these monsters, as their motifs seem rather dubious, or at least that's what the Narrator tries to explain.

Written by Albert DeMond, "Boo" is nothing more than a series of clips from F.W. Murnau's silent classic, "Nosferatu", James Whale's "Frankenstein" and Rupert Julian's "The Cat Creeps", everything mixed but joined together by DeMond's tale of a poor man's nightmare. DeMond's story is merely an excuse to put the clips in funny ways, putting footage on a loop or adding wacky sounds to them. In his narration, DeMond makes fun about the congress and the economical situation of their time, as well as of horror movies in general. It's all in good fun, although certainly the jokes haven't really aged well and now may sound boring and unfunny. While this can be blamed on the fact that humor has changed, in all honestly the jokes weren't that funny to begin with, although some can still bring at least a smile.

Where the movie shines is in it's use of clips from Universal horror films, as DeMond puts them out of context and makes some funny segments by playing with them. Interestingly, DeMond used Murnau's "Nosferatu" instead of Universal's own "Dracula", mainly because Lugosi's vampire was probably too elegant and good looking for his wacky spoof, so he used Max Schreck's interpretation as it was more of a monster. Of great interest is the fact that "Boo" contains what's probably the last surviving footage of Rupert Julian's 1930 horror classic, "The Cat Creeps", a movie that has been missing for years and that it's considered lost by many historians. While out of context and done for laughs, we can see bits of that now legendary film in this little short movie.

While I wouldn't say that "Boo" is a great movie, it's an interesting oddity to fans of Universal's Golden Age of horror movies, as not only it offers the only way to see a slice of "The Cat Creeps", it also shows a different view of those classic movies and how strong was their impact in those early years. Sure, as a comedy it's pretty mediocre (even for laugh tracks standards), but like most of the horror movies done by Universal, this one has a strange charm that makes it special. Not exactly a good film, but definitely a must-see for Universal horror fans.

5/10



Buy "Boo" (1932)

Petróleo (1936)

During the first half of the 30s, the situation between oil companies and their workers in Mexico was extremely conflictive, often resulting in strikes, and sometimes even violence. The origin of the tensions between both groups was that the workers demanded better working conditions and basically a whole new collective contract to rule their relationship with the companies. On the other hand, the companies weren't really excited about this and claimed to lack the funding necessary to satisfy those demands. Naturally, public opinion was initially divided on the subject, however, eventually both the Government and the population began to be on the workers' side. In order to fight this, in 1936 the oil companies decided to fund a short educational film as propaganda for their cause, hoping to win back the public's favor as the defenders of Mexican industry. And to make this film they hired the crew responsible of Mexico's biggest box office hit of the year: "Allá en el Rancho Grande".

The result was "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" (literally "Petroleum - The Blood of the World"), a 19 minutes short film that covers the the historical importance of oil and its products in the industrial development of a country. Written by Antonio Momplet and co-directors Arturo S. Mom and Fernando De Fuentes, "Petróleo" is very informative about the whole process of extraction of crude oil and the treatment it gets to produce the rest of its derivatives. However, being a work done with the intention of promoting the role the big oil companies play in the industry, it's origins as propaganda are more than obvious as it spends a lot of time explaining how necessary the companies are for the future of the nation. Granted, the companies had a point in the sense that their technology, funds and experience were invaluable at that moment, but the narration certainly tends to exaggerate their role. However, what's odd about "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo", is that despite this, the movie conveys exactly the opposite message.

And that happens because of the way words and images work in the film. As written above, "Petróleo" was directed by Arturo S. Mom and Fernando De Fuentes, whom using the beautiful camera-work by Adolfo W. Slazy, Manuel Álvarez Bravo (later known as one of Mexico's greatest photographers) and Gabriel Figueroa, were in charge of putting images to the words of the oil companies. Now, the oddity in "Petróleo" is that while the narrative talks about the benefits of the companies, the images captured tend to showcase the work of the workers, the common people, putting special emphasis in the nobility of their work, the strength of their collective effort, and the difficulties they have to overcome to produce the "blood of the world". In a purely visual way, "Petróleo" has more in common with the soviet propaganda done by Eisenstein and other Russian filmmakers than with the normal educational shorts about scientific themes. Needless to say, the images in "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" speak more than the film's screenplay.

This contrast between images and words is so carefully organized that it just couldn't be mere coincidence, as it is in fact a cleverly devised blow against the oil companies in which, using their own film, the filmmakers effectively did propaganda for the opposite side. In his memoirs, legendary cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa (a convinced socialist) claims full credit of the deed, detailing how by being familiar with the way Álvarez Bravo and De Fuentes worked, he was able to work his ideas into the film without nobody noticing it. While I don't doubt that Figueroa was the mastermind behind it all, I imagine that he must have had the collaboration of De Fuentes, Álvarez Bravo or at least editors Carles L. Kimball or Ulrico Stern, as "Petróleo"'s overtly socialist tone is so subtle and yet so powerful that it just feels like the result of a collaborative work. As expected from the talented set of cinematographers, the images of "Petróleo" are, while probably generic, of great quality and even have a certain beauty.

In the end, the fight between the companies and the workers ended in 1938, when on March the 18th the Government of president Lázaro Cárdenas expropriated the petroleum industry. The workers' movement became very popular amongst the population, so even when its probable that "Petróleo" had not been a key factor in that, it could be said that the ideas of Figueroa and company won in the end. Still, while "Petróleo - La Sangre del Mundo" is nothing more than an educational short film (filled with the genre's typical problems, like a terribly dull narration, I must add), the way its images are in a constant fight with the whole film's idea make it a very interesting movie to watch. Given the way things ended, "Petróleo" may not had been the most successful documentary, but as the perfect display of the power of images, it's outstanding.

7/10

Dickson Greeting (1891)

When during an afternoon in Leeds, England, french inventor Louis Le Prince tested his latest invention and shot the first movie in the world, he didn't realize the magnitude of what was just starting that long lost day of 1888. Sadly, Le Prince would not live to see the results of his experiments, and it would be other people would be the ones in charge to improve on his idea and create what we now know as cinema. One of those who would become the first filmmakers would be the Scottish inventor William K.L. Dickson, who while working in America along Thomas Alva Edison invented the Kinetoscope in 1890. The Kinetoscope was a device that showed short movies individually through the window of a cabinet housing its components, in a manner that would earn it the nickname of "peepshow machine". However, the birth of Kinetoscope wasn't easy, and many experiments had to be done before its public release in 1893.

The first experiments were of course the famous "Monkeyshines" films, three movies where the camera captures (or tries to capture) the images of Edison's workers as they move in front of it. While not exactly successful (image looks pretty bad), those movies were the very first films shot in America and showed Edison the enormous potential of Dickson's invention. After many experiments, Dickson achieved the quality he desired and made the movie that would be shown to the press and 150 members of the National Federation of Women's Clubs in a private demonstration of the invention that took place on May 20, 1891. The first movie shown was this one, nowadays aptly titled "Dickson Greeting" because it consisted of a short 3 seconds scene where William K.L. Dickson appeared bowing and smiling, as if he was indeed greeting the first audience of his Kinetoscope. There were rumours that this film was also the very first movie with sound, with Dickson saluting his employer as he greeted him, but those rumours were probably created by Edison to increase the attention (not the first time he would use this tactic), and because Dickson was really working in making "talkies" (and he would be close to really make it, I must say).

Watching how Dickson's work improved from the "Monkeyshines" experiments to this movie is an amazing experience, as the quality of his movies improved drastically from bizarre images without any shape that appeared in his first three films to the high quality of his image moving gracefully in "Dickson Greeting". The fact that all this improvements took him less than a year is certainly a testament of the enormous genius of this man, who singlehandedly put Edison's company on the race towards motion pictures. On that day of May, this along with two other Kinetoscope movies (probably the two shorts about boxing) were shown to an audience for the first time, in what would mark the birth of the first device invented to watch movies. Kinetoscope, cinema's "granddaddy" had just been born.

8/10



Buy "Dickson Greeting" (1981) and the rest of Edison's early films