1 QUICK FIX #FOUR: WERNER HERZOG'S THE GREAT ECSTASY OF WOODCARVER STEINER (1974)

As far as short films go, this one's pretty lengthy, clocking in at almost 45 minutes in running time.  But I'd argue that it's as essential a film as Werner Herzog ever made (okay, a close second after Lessons of Darkness), containing deep ruminations on the mystical and Freudian impulses (the death drive, specifically) often present in his work without being bogged down on a surface level by overly ponderous pronouncements on those subjects.

One can truly enjoy the piece for its base elements: awe-inspiring, slow-motion 16mm cinematography of the greatest (circa the early 1970s) ski-jumper in the world, Walter Steiner, performing his trade, coming within inches of extreme peril each time he competes, as well as complimentary ethereal music by Popol Vuh, and the film's outside-the-box approach to the sports documentary genre.

It's the visual element that's most stunning here.  Cinematographer Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein camera work erases all trace of gravity from Steiner's record breaking jumps.  I've yet to see anything else captured on film that isolates its subject from standard worldly experiences as effectively as The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner; it's like watching the moon landing, if the astronauts' bodies were substituted for their spacecraft.

Regarding the risk inherent in Steiner's sport: his frustration around the imposed boundaries for his jumps (which he regularly oversteps) mirrors that of the late Formula One racer Ayrton Senna, the subject of last year's must-see documentary Senna.  As Steiner jumps further and further, there is little accommodation made by the sporting officials for his safety, placing him in extreme danger if he continues to compete at the full extent of his powers.  It's a tension that is transferred to the viewer as Steiner hurtles through space repeatedly throughout the film.

A magnificent documentary that truly pushes the form forward.  Sit back and enjoy The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner:

A note: if you're having trouble turning on the subtitles, you may have to view the video directly on YouTube.

Related links:

1 QUICK FIX #ONE: POWERS OF TEN 

1 QUICK FIX #TWO: UNE NUIT SUR LE MONT CHAUVE (A NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN) 

1 QUICK FIX #THREE: ORGANISM
Best of 2011-->>eleven through fifteen
Best of 2011-->>sixteen through twenty
The Real Rocky: The Bleeder Gets His Due 

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JIRO DREAMS OF SUSHI: WHEREIN THE DAILY GRIND LASTS A LIFETIME

Last year, the non-fiction films Bobby Fischer Against the World and Senna both recognized that obsessive repetition is often the common thread amongst those we label as geniuses.  This crucial concept lies at the heart of David Gelb's Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a portrait of shokunin Jiro Ono, a man whose entire life has been given without limits to the betterment of his craft.

Ono practices his magic at Sukiyabashi Jiro, a small, 10-seat eatery snugly nestled in the corner of Tokyo's underground rail station.  Belying the unexceptional location, the restaurant is the only sushi-based dining establishment in the world to have received a three-star Michelin rating, an honor extended to Jiro and his staff for five years running now.  Fundamentally, Jiro Dreams of Sushi is an introduction to the world's greatest sushi chef, for those not already in the know.

The film emphasizes the focused repetition that drives Jiro's art.  There's nary an interview subject in the piece who doesn't marvel at the chef's unyielding pursuit of perfection.  Gelb uses food writer Masuhiro Yamamoto's extensive knowledge of and gushing enthusiasm for Jiro's work as an entry point into the intimate spaces of Sukiyabashi Jiro's kitchen and dining area.

From there, we meet Jiro's eldest son, Yoshikazu, who is expected to take over the reigns when Jiro finally steps down; a monumental task in the face of his father's legacy.  As a veteran of Jiro's kitchen puts it, Yoshikazu will have to "make sushi twice as good as his father" to be seen as his equal, such is the esteem with which Jiro is held in the culinary world.

Everything about Jiro's philosophy is bent towards continual improvement.  We're told that he asks that his apprentices make a ten year commitment, though only the truly dedicated survive long in his kitchen.  Gelb's camera ventures outside the confines of the restaurant to meet the fish and rice vendors who supply Jiro with the quality of ingredients he demands.

Each vendor comes off as idiosyncratic and detail-oriented as Jiro himself; there's an entertaining discussion between a rice merchant and Jiro about who deserves (and is capable of cooking) the variety of rice he sells.  The trip is a revelation, pointing to the collaboration that makes Jiro's work possible, something that Jiro himself broaches later in the film when discussing the support he receives from his staff.

There's an expectation that cinema tied to food will inspire hunger.  Jiro Dreams of Sushi certainly fulfills that assumption while being surprisingly emotionally substantial as well.  Gelb presents Jiro as a man with self-denying commitment to his passion.  And his passion is contagious.

Jiro Dreams of Sushi opens at the Hollywood Theatre and Living Room Theaters on Friday, March 23rd.



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Best of 2011 -->> eleven through fifteen

#15 Another Year (dir. Mike Leigh):

The small victories of an aging English couple are contrasted against the miserable lives of their friends.  It isn't that Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen) have everything; their successes are modest: occupations that feed them intellectually and spiritually, the emotional support of each other, and a adult son whose company they enjoy.  But placed against Mary's (Lesley Manville) complete inability to navigate the daily grind, theirs are lives that work.

A true actor's piece where everyone completely inhabits their roles.  This may be my favorite Mike Leigh film since Life is Sweet.

#14 Tabloid (dir. Errol Morris):

Errol Morris returns to the valley of the freaks with this one.  The film relays the exploits of Joyce McKinney, a woman who, after being dumped, assumed her boyfriend had been brainwashed by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  So, what's a girl to do?  Allegedly, Joyce's solution was to kidnap, drug and rape the man out of his religious convictions.
Morris is a master documentary filmmaker; one of our best.  Here he plays both sides of the story, letting Joyce, her accusers and those caught in the fray the opportunity to tell their version of the truth. 

#13 Into the Abyss (dir. Werner Herzog):

An admission: during first 15 minutes or so, I was disappointed that this film features none of Herzog's characteristically downcast narration. This, however, was before I understood what he was trying to craft here.  Simply put, this documentary is Herzog's most mature work to date.  Accordingly,  he keeps himself (mostly) out of the picture, choosing instead to focus on the story of a triple homicide and the people involved.

Herzog's version of Texas is one where everyone has experienced loss, often violently, leading us to believe that the central crime of the narrative is just a more heightened version of business as usual. Of course, post-screening, one must square the facts presented with Herzog's own notion of ecstatic truth, at which point the portrait of Texas does become questionable, as does the sequence where Herzog shows us the bullet-ridden cars that "testify" to various acts of violence. But the impact of the film remains.

#12 Senna (dir. Asif Kapadia):


The simultaneously thrilling and tragic tale of Aryton Senna, the best Formula One racing driver of his generation, is told almost entirely through frenetically-charged, archival materials. As such, it is a documentary of pure immediacy, a historical portrait that plays out in the present tense most of the time. A tension-filled masterpiece capable of captivating even viewers who know nothing (or care nothing) of the sport that its subject dominated.

#11 Meek's Cutoff (dir. Kelly Reichardt):

Kelly Reichardt's third collaboration with screenwriter Jon Raymond finds the duo moving even further away from explanatory exposition than in their previous films. Meek's Cutoff is more about what is left unspoken.
Hit the link to read what I had to say about it in March.
 

 

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