The Monk (Le Moine)

THE MONK (Le Moine)         D  
France  Spain  (101 mi)  2011  ‘Scope  d:  Dominik Moll             Official site [es]

An unbelievably morbid, dreary, and gloomy picture that seems to think no one has ever seen Luis Buñuel’s Simon of the Desert (Simón del Desierto) (1965), a much better,  near perfect, and utterly hilarious version of an agonizing ascetic, loosely based on the actual life of Simeon Stylites, who reportedly spent 37 years on a tower during the 5th century, the picture of saintly piety, denying himself all earthly pleasures, though he is challenged by the Devil in various disguises, Sylvia Pinal as a sexual temptress urging Simon to come down from his lonely wooden tower.  What Buñuel does in 45 minutes is a sheer delight compared to this pretentious and overly pompous waste of time, a film that, despite its surrealist attempts, couldn’t be more dramatically dull and predictable.  Despite a rather listless performance from Vincent Cassel as the title character in the 16th century, a young priest who is all too easily led astray, the overly somber mood literally sucks all the life out of the picture, drowning the film in its own seriousness and self-pity.  While it’s not completely without a few memorable moments, they never elevate the material out of the deeply ingrained atmosphere of doom that saturates the overall mood of the film.  This is something that would be better served by Mel Brooks in the era of Madeline Kahn and YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974) or even DE DUVA (1968) Madeline Kahn - DE DUVA (The Dove) - 1968 Funny! - YouTube (14:03), where a little outrageous humor is needed.  Instead we get overly dark images of the cloistered life of the priesthood, where Cassel as a baby is left at the doorstep of a monastery with a diabolical crow picking at its diaper before he’s discovered by a Franciscan monk.  Over time, he joins the order of the Capucin Friars that raised him, becoming a local legend, a beloved priest whose energizing sermons fill the church with onlookers and curious admirers who come from miles around to hear him preach, where in his steadfast devotion and goodness he seems touched by the hand of the Lord.

Based on Matthew G. Lewis's 18th Century novel, Ambrosio (Cassel) defends himself from criticism by the devoutness of his commitment to Christ, where those that stray can only blame themselves, in his view, as “Satan only has the power we give him.”  An early sexually explicit confession by an admitted child molester known only as Le Débauché (Sergi López) over the opening credits seems to test his worldliness, as he’s largely been educated with books in a protected and cloistered environment, having no understanding of the goings on in the real world, yet he’s called upon to pass judgment and holy penitence on the lives of ordinary people.  Early on his goodness is challenged when he condemns a young nun for the crime of pregnancy, where she dies starving in prison, blaming him for her fate, sending an ominous signal to the parishioners.  Suddenly the floodgates of damnation open their gates and through the temptation of Satan, the young priest is finally tested by the acts of a young sexual temptress that he initially rebuffs, but a near fatal insect bite changes all that, where as she stands watch over him, she makes her move after all the others finally leave her alone at his bedside, an unthinkable act in itself.  Using an experimental montage of multiple videos mixed together, suggesting a subconscious, dream-like state, she has her way sexually with the young monk while he’s in a state of delirium, an act that he only recalls in his subconscious.  From that point on, there are continual surrealist gestures to show how the shape-shifting Satan can assume the form of anyone or anything in order to bring about the damnation of one’s soul.  The one interesting sequence is a candlelit religious procession with candles placed atop men’s heads, dripping candle wax down their cheeks, where suffering pain has always been associated with spiritual belief, where the more pain you can endure, the closer you are to God, a belief that is not only Christian, where to this day, despite strong condemnation from the Catholic church, devotees in Mexico and the Philippines have been known to re-enact the crucifixion ceremony driving nails into the hands ( Warning: Raw Video: Philippine Crucifixion Re-enactment - YouTube 1:21), but also Hindu religious piercings where cheeks and other body parts are pierced by metal rods and needles as an expression of religious devotion.   

The use of light is a conscious contrast, as the cloistered life inside the confines of the church remains excessively dark, where it appears only natural light is used, with a flood of images showing hooded monks quietly walking through the darkened corridors.  Once outside, however, the brightness of the sun reveals a scorched earth outside, where the desert grounds are baked in the hot sun.  The biggest disappointment of the film is the toxic atmosphere of utter indifference that permeates the entire film, as if living in the darkness chokes away the spirit of life, where there’s simply no dramatic interest, especially when it veers into the realms of a horror film.  When we see the image of a man living among the pigs, perhaps an example of Satan lurking in their midst, he’s completely ignored by everyone passing by, making no attempt whatsoever to connect this strangeness to anything, as if this is a common everyday occurrence.  When no one remarks or says anything, the incident is ignored, a perfect example of the lethargy existing within the film itself, where if the characters don’t care, why should the audience?  This deflation of interest literally destroys whatever connection might otherwise be made by viewers, as every single character takes themselves so seriously, reflected through a shrouded layer of darkness, overly somber moods, the same religious music that repeats itself throughout, where after awhile one gets sick of this dreary, one-note presentation.  There’s none of the usual cleverness from this director, where you’d think with some surrealist imagery and Satan (Sergi López) eventually showing himself to the young monk, using against him the exact same words from his sermon, which have a completely different connotation on the other side of the pulpit, that there would be some shred of interest, but incredibly there’s not, largely due to the film’s own detachment and aloofness, where by the end, nothing really matters anymore.  Much of this film is so over the top it’s laughable and is a major bust.   

One, Two, Three

ONE, TWO, THREE               B+                  

USA  (115 mi)  1961  ‘Scope  d:  Billy Wilder

On Sunday, August 13th, 1961, the eyes of America were on the nation’s capital, where Roger Maris was hitting home runs #44 and 45 against the Senators. On that same day, without any warning, the East German Communists sealed off the border between East and West Berlin. I only mention this to show the kind of people we’re dealing with—REAL SHIFTY!     — C.R. MacNamara (James Cagney)

Working relentlessly at breakneck speed, Wilder delivers a comic romp not seen since the Marx Brothers, a free for all of unparalleled mayhem, something reminiscent of Howard Hawks’ madcap screwball comedy BRINGING UP BABY (1938) or the Coen Brother’s irreverent antics in O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU? (2000), where the film reels off one-liners as if the screenwriters were getting paid by the joke.  The frantic pace is hilarious, as is the use of James Cagney as the corporate emblem of America, synonymous with the product Coca Cola.  What’s weaker here is the overall level of acting, much of it downright pathetic, which may actually add some level of sick cultish appeal to the film.  While many of Wilder’s films have a timeless feel about them and feel as fresh today as when they were written, this is not one of them.  Filmed almost entirely in Berlin, the city Wilder left three decades ago with the anti-Semitic rise of Nazism, this movie relentlessly exploits the politics of the Cold War, making it unfashionably out of date, more of a period piece that may suffer from a time warp.  For those who can set aside today for a glimpse into yesteryear, the experience is not much different than Kubrick’s DR. STRANGELOVE OR:  HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB (1964), which is the penultimate Cold War exposé.  While Wilder’s breakneck pace is more frantic and his jokes neverending, like a cheap burlesque routine, Kubrick’s vision is more icily chilling, smart and superbly rendered, well acted and brilliantly conceived, with an unforgettable finale, an ending to end all endings.  This film is simply not in that league, pitting capitalism against communism, targeting American imperialism as capitalist pigs with “Yankee Go Home” slogans referenced throughout, made at the height of the Cold War when the Berlin Wall was actually constructed during the middle of the shooting, sealing off the East Germans from the West, requiring extensive on-the-spot screenplay and set adjustments, rebuilding the Brandenburg Gate in Munich.    

Opening with the Saber Dance Sabre Dance - Aram Khachaturian - YouTube (2:25), conducted to full effect by musical director André Previn, a kickass, frenetic theme that plays throughout the movie, few films ever made match this kind of delirious non-stop energy, and most, including this one, have momentary let downs where the pace simply can’t keep up.  Cagney, C.R. MacNamara, affectionately known as Mein Führer by his wife, Arlene Francis, is the tyrannical head of Coca Cola in Berlin who dreams of being the first entrepreneur to break into the untapped markets behind the Iron Curtain.  His every move is satirized, as is the German staff efficiency, where Schlemmer (Hans Lothar), his right hand man, clicks his heels with each new command, while Fräulein Ingeborg (Liselotte Pulver), the curvaceous blond secretary sets the tone for a sex farce, exactly as Lee Meredith did as Ulla with Zero Mostel in THE PRODUCERS (1968).  Hilariously, Cagney’s office features a “Yankee Doodle Dandy” cuckoo clock where Uncle Sam pops out.  The entire premise of the film is Cagney barking out orders at a furious pace where underlings jump into action trying to obey his every command.  It plays like a three ring circus, as people are literally stepping over one another in choreographed pandemonium, where the dialogue driven film is a nonstop torrent of one-liners, zingers that leave one breathless after awhile.  Wilder devises an exaggerated soap opera for the theme, as the Atlanta executive in charge of Coca Cola (Howard St. John) phones MacNamara to inform him of the arrival of his 17-year old daughter in Berlin, Pamela Tiffin as Scarlett, asking him to look after her for a few days.  Without anyone’s knowledge, she stays for months, secretly meeting a communist boyfriend across the border, Horst Buchholz as Otto Piffl, lured by his outlandish views, calling her a “typical bourgeois parasite, and the rotten fruit of a corrupt civilization.  So naturally, I fell in love with him.”  At one point, down in the dumps, thinking his career is over, Cagney quips “Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?” an Edward G. Robinson line from LITTLE CAESAR (1931).  Later in the film Red Buttons has a cameo where he does a Cagney “You dirty rat” imitation in front of Cagney, as someone similarly did a George Raft imitation in front of Raft in SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959).   

What follows is Cagney trying to put the lid on this budding international scandal, at first getting Otto out of the way, setting up the poor guy’s arrest by the East German police, where he is tortured by being forced to listen endlessly to the bubble gum sounds of Brian Hyland - Itsy bitsy teenie weenie Yellow polka dot bikini ... YouTube (2:27).  But when Cagney quickly learns that Scarlett’s pregnant and married, he has to embark on a secret mission into the bowels of communist East Berlin to get him back, making excellent use of real locations, especially the burnt out ruins on the East German side of the Potsdamer Platz, all set to the music of Wagner’s Die Walküre shown here (under noiseinthemirror) one, two, three | Tumblr on YouTube (6:43), embellished even further when they meet Russian trade ambassadors at the Grand Hotel Potemkin, where in the smoky ruin of a burned out café, a weary dance band plays a German version of “Yes, We have No Bananas” with a few deadbeats dancing in slow motion while aged comrades sit completely undisturbed playing chess.  Smuggling Otto out of an East Berlin jail is just the beginning, as the pace slackens a bit in a battle of wits with the infuriorated Otto, who defiantly proclaims “Capitalism is like a dead herring in the moonlight, it shines, but it stinks.”  In a furious attempt to take the Bolshevik out of the boy and make him more presentable to his family, as his future in-laws are arriving the next day, Cagney has his work cut out for him.  Engaging the full force of the Western front to accomplish the task, Cagney sneers “That’s just what the world needs, another bouncing, baby Bolshevik.”  This is a completely cynical piece on East-West relations, so when Cagney puts his stamp of family approval and places Otto in charge of a Coca Cola plant, who then immediately vows to lead the workers in revolt, yet stands there ridiculously bare-legged, Cagney snaps at him “Put your pants on, Spartacus.” While the film is zany and clever throughout, it never rises to more than a theatrical set piece, as most of the action takes place with people standing around in a room, or running breathlessly in or out, creating an exaggerated sense of melodramatic hysteria, but interesting in the way Wilder takes a real international crisis and works it into his movie, spouting silly philosophic gems like “Look at it this way, any world that can produce the Taj Mahal, William Shakespeare, and striped toothpaste can’t be all bad.”