Regretful Film Reviews

This is not a regretful review per se. In fact, this is less a review than a well-intentioned plot analysis. Nothing cynical going on here -- can you believe it? But do not assume right away that that means I am a great fan of this film -- you know, one of those persons who got into the cult following of Richard Linklater's little hit.

Why do they say that films have "cult followings"? Granted it is technial jargon. Just like "sleeper", which they also say about movies (sometimes the same ones). What they do not realise is that most persons probably do not know what these industry terms mean. Persons like me, for instance, who nevertheless have been devouring film reviews since sometime in the 1970s. But they use these terms anyway, as if it were standard currency. I can guess, from the usage, that a film with a "cult following" did not have a big audience at its opening, but that there is a select group of persons who like the movie a lot, and watch it repeatedly. The group develops a strong loyalty to the director or writer or whoever, and with word of mouth the popularity slowly grows. Unfortunately, this usually happens after it is taken out of the box office.

I still cannot figure out, even going on usage, what exactly a "sleeper" is. (Here is some trivia, which you can safely skip: I remember that one of the first ever movies to be rated PG-13 was Red Dawn. TV Guide constantly referred to it as a "star-spangled sleeper".)

[Searching...]

Okay, there was the Woody Allen flick by the name Sleeper in 1973. Did it lend its name to a genre?

[not satisfied; searching again...]

Okay, I think this is the best we are going to get from now: a two-buck answer from Google.

Back to the proverbial "cult following". I really hope the expression is proverbial. I don't know about you, but where I came from, a cult or a follower thereof was not such an admirable thing. Remember David Koresh? (In his own words.) Remember Jonestown? I saw a film about that mass suicide when I was a child, and it gave me the heebie-jeebies. (But later on, I saw an episode of the A-Team in which they rescued several members and wreaked havoc on the cult, so I felt much better.)

I am willing to guess that in the case of a movie or a director that has a cult following, it is just a metaphor. A hip metaphor, used by those of us who can get past any suspicion of religious charlatanism, brainwashing, and congregating in filthy conditions to perform rituals. Just as James Lileks can speak of "Mac fanatic cultists who slosh with [Steve] Jobs’ Kool-Aid" (see Jonestown link, supra), we can speak about a film as if it its fans are living in squalor and abusing children. But in reality we are just talking about persons who really like a film, and want to see it many times, learn all about it, and share the experience with their friends. The Shawshank Redemption was such a film. Death Becomes Her was one. The original Matrix was such a film. Whit Stillman has a cult following. Kevin Smith has one. It's all good, clean fun (The Rocky Horror Picture Show notwithstanding).

I mentioned Whit Stillman on purpose. Remember him? Maybe not. Ever see Metropolitan (1990)? Doubt it. Barcelona (1994)? More likely, but still doubtful. Last Days of Disco (1998)? More likely still. But if you did see it, you may have been disappointed if you had not been prepared already set up by the previous two. Stillman has the gift of writing quirky and almost thoroughly unrealistic dialogue. That's the funny part, you see: seemingly shallow people are caught up in their mundane situations, but then they start to talk about problems that are on their mind. And then you realise that what they are discussing goes far beyond the bounds of barroom chatter. Is it more virtuous to choose only to date unattractive women? Are you shaving in the right direction? Barcelona will not give you the answers, but it will give you a much better idea of the question than you ever thought of before.

Stick with me, I am going somewhere with this.

The television series Northern Exposure was in the same genre. It ran from 1990 to 1995, which you may notice encompasses the same time period as Stillman's first two films. This programme championed the kind of banter that I just described. It was a great time. I loved this stuff. You know, if Northern Exposure had had a cult, I probably would have been an easy inductee. Would have eaten the whale blubber and everything.

I think the genre petered out by the time Whitman's last film was released, which is why it has more variety in it (e.g., disco dancing). The wretched "comedy" Denial was also released in 1998, with Jonathan Silverman and Jason Alexander trying to carry the torch. Well, that movie signaled to me that the party was over.

Back to the subject at hand, which is Before Sunrise. The year was 1995, which is why it was possible for a film to be mostly this scattered kind of witty and off-kilter romantic dialogue, plus scenery.

Because it looked sappy, and because I did not like the way Ethan Hawke had scruffified, I did not see it when it was first released, although I was tempted to because of the European theme, and mildly because of the plot. It did not help that Julie Delpy had previously been the cruel wife in Trois Couleurs: Blanc, or that she had been the Aryan Hitler-worshipping girl who cruelly dumped her Jewish boyfriend in Europa, Europa. I was incapable of aesthetic distance back then, so I did not like her. (And I may not be capable of it still: when my family doctor told me, in the course of a checkup, that I phycially reminded him of Ethan Hawke in Gattaca, I was instantly a fan of Mr. Scruffy.)

This year the sequel, Before Sunset, was released. It follows the same pattern, except that now the characters are ten years older and are meeting again for the first time in Paris.

Say no more. I am there the first day it is available.

On DVD, that is. (There is a little hitch that is preventing me from going to theatres at the moment, but we won't go into that now.)

So I wanted to brush up on the story. And now I stand corrected. Watching Before Sunrise is a moment well spent. It is not too sappy. The dialogue is not cumbersome, and even smacks of realism.

But I am glad that I waited several years to see the film. Why?

Because by now, this kind of experience has happened to me, with variations, a few times already.

Had I seen Before Sunrise in 1995, being young and impressionable, I may have projected that somewhat unrealistic scenario on my own travels and potential meeting of women. I may have measured my own experience with that one.

Now, the story tugs on my heartstrings in a way that is almost embarrassing. I don't want to be manipulated by Hollywood, but geez! The memories! The feelings! When Céline and Jesse are obliged to leave each other at the end, I can honestly say, "I know just how that feels". In fact, I don't need to think it; my heart informs me immediately. Mais où sont les neiges d'antan ?!

And this, I suspect, is how the film managed to hook viewers, who fell into two categories:

• those who thought, "Wow, how romantic! I hope I can encounter such a situation someday", and


• those who thought, "That feels just like it felt when I met X, and we got to know each other over the course of Y, and then..."

Of course, it never happened like exactly like that, because this is fiction. One cannot make a film about this and be entirely documentary-style. Or at least, Linklater can not. If you want to know about an author's concept of poetics, read the preface. In this case, Linklater announced his principles at the beginning, with Jesse's idea for a cable-access show, comprised of 365 episodes, each one a "24-hour document of real time" following one person's life. The idea is scoffed at and dismissed.

The dialogue is not even so spectacular -- far too many "um"s and "y'know"s. But I guess that is noise that adds to the realism. They keep changing topics, running the gammut of the factual and the emotional.

They kiss way too prematurely. And on the other hand, they really never tell each other so much about their "normal" lives: where they are going with their life plans, for example, and whether those plans are going to be called into question now that they found this... how does one put it?... connexion.

"We share some sort of connexion" is a line that should be retired by now. I have heard it used too many times by too many guys on the girls they are trying to woo, and I know what they mean when they say it. Uh, huh, I think. (Because I am a guy who has found myself, a few times, lucky enough to keep a girl's attention for more than a few moments, and who needs a plausible reason to keep it going.) I wish Jesse and Céline had figured out what that means. They both seem bright, but they are too giddy with the process of discovering another person to stay on topic.

I wish, for once, that they had tried to find a big answer to a big question. The reincarnation problem that Jesse has, for example. (I have an answer to that one, by the way. But then, my deck is stacked because I have a few centuries of mystical teachings from my own religion. And yes, Judaism believes in reincarnation, heavily.)

Watching this film reminded me of two diametrically opposed kinds of matchmaking, which sort-of meet each other at the extremes. I have participated in both:

• Two perfect strangers meet, start a random conversation, hit it off, find they have that "connexion", realise that this moment holds significant import and, depending on their circumstances, either (a) become bosom buddies for life, or (b) are ripped apart, and feel their hearts detaching from their chest (rather like that guy in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom).
  
• Two perfect strangers meet, because they have been set up by an intermediary, spent a couple of hours together, never touch, keep the conversation on track, and try to figure out if they should (a) marry each other, or (b) part ways and never see one another again.

Officially, I am supposed to tell you that the latter method is the better, and that it is, in fact, the most preferable of all possible ways of dating.

The former is risky, but it has something going for it, y'know.