the reality of war in No Man’s Land

No Man’s Land is a film directed by Danis Tanovic. It takes place during the Bosnian War between the years 1992-1995 in the former Yugoslavia. The film follows a pair of Bosnian soldiers named Ciki and Cera when they are attacked by Serbian troops after they are lost in a fog. They are both wounded and caught in a trench between lines. Two Serbian soldiers go to make sure the Bosnian soldiers are dead. While they are there, Ciki kills one of them and wounds the other. He keeps the wounded Serbian, Nini, alive in order to make it out of the trench without being shot by the Serbs. He finds out that the Serbian soldiers placed a bouncing mine under Cera who he thought was dead. They work together to draw a cease fire and get the UN involved in getting them out of No Mans Land. While they wait, they talk about life before the war and try to take each other out more than once. Once the UN arrives, they evacuate Ciki and Nino and find out that the Bomb under Cera cannot be diffused. The tensions between Ciki and Nino reaches a climax when Ciki shoots Nino, causing a UN officer to kill Ciki. The UN general lies to the reporters and tells them that the mine was diffused and Cera needs to be evacuated to a hospital. The film ends showing Cera still on the mine in the trench.

The film shows the reality of war and the terrible things that it drives people to do. The conversation Ciki and Nino have about a girl they both know is a perfect example of this. It shows how they have lived very similar lives and are much more alike than they think. However, Ciki still kills Nino in the end for helping set the mine under Cera. Another example of the results of war is the UN general trying to save face about leaving Cera in the trench. He does this to make himself and his organization look better even though it’s an evil lie. These points emphasize the theme throughout the film of the brutality of war and the terrible things it drives people to do, especially in the case of the Bosnian war.

“Good Bye, Lenin!”: How Tragedy and Comedy Come Together To Tell a Story

Wolfgang Becker’s “Good Bye Lenin!” cleverly blends humor with tragedy to tell its story. The film, set in East Germany during the fall of the Berlin Wall, follows the journey of Alexander Kerner, a young man trying his best to shield his bedridden mother from the realities of the political changes in Germany (that took place while she was in a coma).

The movie makes fun of the absurdity of living in Soviet-era East Germany through devices such as satire and irony. For example, the scene in which Alex and his friend fabricate a news report to account for Coca-Cola’s sudden appearance in East Germany is delivered humorously but touches on a not-so-humorous subject. Alex’s attempts to recreate the past by creating fake news broadcasts and finding old food products with the “Made in GDR” label on them, highlight the lengths people went to in order to cling to the ideals of socialism as it fell apart right in front of them. An illustration of irony is in the scene where Alex’s mother is able to step out of her bed for the first time. She goes outside and is confused (but hopefully delighted) to witness a huge Lenin statue being airlifted out of East Germany, not comprehending that the nation is currently experiencing a political uprising.

My favorite trait of combining these two genres of tragedy and comedy is its ability to offset the sad/tragic undertones of the film. Alex’s mother is entering the last stages of her life and is having to be hidden from the constructs of her country being rapidly changed around her for fear that it might send her over the edge. It’s a tragic situation that is only amplified by the absence of Alex’s father and the context of the family’s relationship with him. However, Alex’s attempts to maintain the illusion of the old East Germany for his mother are often quite funny to watch and delivered with a heart-touching element. It creates a great balance with the tragedy of the film that makes for an easily-digestible, entertaining (but still emotional and informative) watch.

Bad Education Through Non-Linear Storytelling

Bad Education, directed by Pedro Almodovar, is a story within a story. We follow the two characters of Ignacio and Enrique who are childhood friends from their time at an all boys boarding school. Years later, Enrique works as a movie director and Ignacio, who now goes by the name Angel, is an actor who brings in a script he has written loosely based on their childhood.

One aspect of this film is its use of non-linear storytelling. Similar to some of the other films we have previously watched for this class, Bad Education makes use of oscillating back-and-forth between the present day 1980s, and the mid 1970s. However, what makes this film unique from the others is the fact that half of what we see on screen is actually fictionalized. At the very beginning of the movie, the character Ignacio, or Angel, visits Enrique, a childhood friend from their time at an all-boy’s boarding school. Angel gives Enrique a manuscript he has written titled The Visit. This story tells a tale loosely based on their time at school together with some creative liberties added. One half of the film is “real life” as Enrique reads through the script and then as he learns more about Angel. The other half is the actual filming of The Visit. 

On first viewing, the constant back-and-forth between the manuscript and reality can become blurred, the viewer often becoming confused with what is fiction and what is real. Almodovar’s editing style enhances this aspect as there is no distinction made between the manuscript story and reality. The only time when we clearly see the filming of the story is towards the end during the scene in which the priests murder Ignacio in order to end his blackmailing of them– the camera cuts between the scene and those behind the camera.

This way of making the film allows the audience to become as invested in the manuscript as Enrique. We feel as though we are watching what is playing out in his mind when he is reading it which adds an intimate aspect to the movie.

The System is Crumbling From the Inside- Blind Chance

Made in 1981, the movie Blind Chance was directed and written by Krzysztof Kieslowski; however, the movie was only released to the public in 1987, following intense scrutiny and revision by state censors. The film centers around a young man named Witek, who is profoundly affected by his father’s death and decides to take a leave of absence from medical school to find his true calling. Kieslowski uses a specific scene at the train station three times, each with different results and slight variations. The film is split between these three scenes, and each outcome represents a different path that Witek will lead in life.

 In the first outcome, Witek makes the train barely and runs into an older communist on the train who convinces him to join the communist party. Witek successfully joins and breaks up a sit-in at a mental hospital and is rewarded with a trip to France; however, his first love Czuszka is an ardent anti-communist, so she shuns Witek. Witek tries to make up with her; however, his constant contact with an anti-communist leads the party to cancel his trip to France. 

In the second outcome, Witek misses the train and is tackled by a police officer. Witek is ordered to do community service and, through this, connects himself with anti-communists and joins the underground resistance lending his flat out for anti-communist meetings. He gets baptized, and the Catholic church is shown as a prominent leader in resistance movements. Witek applies for a passport to go to France he is denied because of his political views and captured by the police. The police over him a passport if he revealed his organization headquarters Witek refuses. However, on his return to the headquarters, he finds it raided and his friends taken away. 

In the third scene, Witek misses the train yet is not arrested. He finds love with a woman named Olga and marries her. Witek decides to continue his studies and becomes a doctor. He refuses to join the communist party and also refuses to sign any anti-communist petitions trying to stay out of politics the best he can. He is invited to travel to Lybia to give medical lectures; however, when the plane takes off, it explodes, killing Witek.

The film’s primary theme is centered around the title, as Kieslowski uses this film to show how blind chance can affect a person’s entire trajectory in life. This film, however, can be better understood with historical context, as demonstrated by the six years of repression and censorship before it was released. This movie touches on many prominent issues facing Poland at the time and is not shy about painting the communist party in a bad light. Kieslowski focuses on state repression, religion, and the importance of family. The cracks in the political system of authoritarian communism are clearly shown in this film and accurately depicts the general discontent of the population with the current political system. The one-party state in Poland would collapse two years after the release of this film.   

The Past and the Present in The Joke

Released following the Prague Spring and the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia, Jaromil Jires’s film The Joke (Zert) brilliantly combines Ludvik Jahn’s past with the present, explaining the protagonist’s current bitter state of mind. Throughout the film, Ludvik spends most of his time reliving important events of his past, especially his expulsion from the Communist party and his time in the army meant to “reeducate” Ludvik. To effectively show this, Jires uses point of view shots throughout the flashbacks. Characters look directly into the camera, making the audience relive these moments as well. For example, as Ludvik is brought to a Communist party meeting to ask him about the postcard, those on the board, Paul, and Margareta peer into the camera as he is kicked out of the Party and university. In shots when Ludvik appears on screen, such as the scene when Alexei is found dead, he is shown as he appears in the present, clearly depicting that Ludvik is vividly remembering these crucial periods of his life.

These flashbacks are intercut with the present, often with music juxtaposing the events of the past. While Ludvik is recalling his days in the army, a band plays music for him. As they perform a song title “No More Masters, No More Slaves,” he describes how he was forced to spend six grueling years in the army, military prison, and the mines. Another scene depicts Ludvik in a brutal labor camp while joyful revolution songs play in the background. These scenes add to Ludvik’s bitterness while also including irony.

Zert – The Joke: A realization of self

The movie The Joke focuses on a man named Jahn Ludvik. Ludvik got kicked out of his college and the communist party due to a joke he made in a letter to his love interest Margaret. She reported the joke to those in power, resulting in the expulsion of Ludvik and him being placed into a mine in what the movie called a reform militia. Those who voted him out, Ludvik considered his friends. After many years Ludvik comes back to Prague with the intent of getting revenge.

Ludvik’s entire purpose in life was to get revenge for what his ‘friends’ had done to him. Throughout this movie Ludvik’s actions seemed to only be motivated by spite and hatred, he was so focused on that hatred that he lost who he actually was. After meeting another old friend from the college/communist party, he learned that man was also kicked out of the party but wasn’t as hell-bent on revenge as Ludvik was.

This man seemed to forgive those who exiled him and ended up in a band at a protestant church. This became his purpose in live and he changed as a person. Ludvik, on the other hand, was still stuck on revenge and thought that his friend was foolish for not wanting to exact revenge. Ludvik decided that seducing the wife of one of his accusers would be the best revenge. He ended up learning that his accuser could care less about his estranged wife, Helena, and was paying more attention to younger women.

After learning this, he had lost his main purpose in life. Ludvik ditched the wife he was using for revenge and was now faced with needing to find a purpose and relearn who he was. He found himself in a kind of limbo between who he was and figuring out who is actually is. Ludvik ended up joining his old friend in his band, playing the clarinet. In the ending scene, we see Ludvik beating up the wife’s assistant and said “It wasn’t you I wanted to beat up.” This interaction might have been cathartic for Ludvik even though the assistant wasn’t the main focus of his revenge. We are left to assume that Ludvik continued to play in the band and go back to his job where he met Helena, possibly with less of a need for revenge. This seems to be a movie that looks at the exacentalism of learning who you actually are.

What Makes Cleo? a rumination on identity in “Cleo From 5 to 7”

Agnes Varda’s most lasting narrative feature, Cléo de 5 à 7 (Cleo from 5 to 7), gives a deeply personal and introspective look at mortality from the perspective of a woman who has lost all semblance of her identity and own free will. Cléo exists as a product. She is meant to be consumed by the masses as the most universally appealing version of herself. She dresses stylishly and is courted around carefully by a maid who makes her decisions for her. Varda has presented us here with the hollow shell of a woman searching for who she once was, or who she could possibly become.

When presented with the possibility of death, one can be expected to feel at least slightly introspective. Cléo is, for seemingly the first time in her life, looking beyond her own physical beauty and status and seeing the world around her. Initially she views beauty as one of, if not the most important thing. “Ugliness is a kind of death. As long as I’m beautiful, I’m even more alive than the others.” She thinks to herself mere moments after receiving a morbid tarot card reading. The only comfort she has is her consistent physical beauty, and praise she receives for it. Finally, after beginning a journey of introspection she is confronted with the way she is treated and is horrified by what she finds. She has no idea if she is Cléo or Florence, or what makes either of them their own person. She puts her life and identity in the hands of others, always wondering what they think and carefully calculating how they should perceive her. Varda attempts here to give us a portrait of the detached, depersonalized nature of fame, femininity, and mortality in France at this time. It is imbued with ideas of existentialism. Cléo never really knows if any of this is worth it, and neither does our director. She ends the film happier than when it started, but nothing really has changed. No one takes her seriously and herself least of all. There is a deep self loathing which permeates the entire film, as we watch her strive for the affection of others while at a loss for how to live for herself. Rarely do we see her alone, and when we do she is often overwhelmed or scared of something like the man swallowing frogs. Her maid refers to her as a child at the beginning of the film, and it is hard to not sometimes view her in this way.

Varda’s documentarian sensibilities come out in full force here to give us a deeply honest, and hard look at Cléo. It feels as if there are no actors here, just people going through their lives minute by minute. The camera is active, moving with our characters, often up close and even occasionally out of focus. We become a character in our own right as we sway to the music during her rehearsal, or walk with her down the street.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Reflecting on Agnès Varda’s “Cleo From 5 to 7”

Upon careful inspection of the mis-en-scène in Agnès Varda’s 1962 film, “Cleo From 5 to 7”, one object in particular will stand out to viewers: mirrors. From reflective signs on the streets, to wall décor in cafés, and even to the glass in a hat shop, every shot in the film’s beginning serves as a means for Cleo to examine herself as she goes about her day. Anxiously awaiting the results of a medical examination for cancer, Cleo attempts to busy herself by doing the one thing she knows best, embracing her vanity. From Cleo’s perspective, “Ugliness is a kind of death… as long as I’m beautiful, I’m alive.” Varda’s consistent placement of mirrors allows viewers to analyze the depth of Cleo’s admiration for face-value qualities. In her early attempts to distract and prevent herself from wallowing in pity, Cleo orders a coffee without directly speaking to the waiters and tries on hats without talking to the saleswoman, all the while admiring herself in some capacity. This mentality is enabled by those around her, with her lover José and production team telling her not to worry about illness because she is beautiful. 

Soon, however, Cleo begins to seem lost, desperately searching for something she cannot pinpoint. Her previous glances of admiration turn to desperate stares, searching for answers about her identity. Instead of the mirrors providing temporary solace, they begin to follow Cleo as she wanders, agitating her the more she sees herself. Glaring at herself in a mirror in a restaurant’s window, Cleo internally examines her problematic mentality, thinking, “I can’t see my own fears. I thought everyone looked at me. I only look at myself. It wears me out.” It is only after Cleo talks with her friend Dorothée that the frequency of mirrors decreases, and eventually dissipates totally when she roams through a park by herself. 

It is there that Cleo meets Antoine, a solider who must soon return to the Algerian War. For the first time in the film, Cleo makes true eye contact with a stranger. Varda’s use of nature in these scenes allows for Cleo to form a close connection in a brief period of time. In the park, there are no longer busy streets, cars passing, and mirrors surrounding Cleo. Instead, only the flow of water, birds chirping, and peaceful conversation fills the soundscape. Only after Cleo leaves the pressure of the city does she find the peace she longed for. With Antoine, a stranger who does not spoil her as she was so often accustomed, Cleo finds clarity, understanding that true connection is the most valuable part of life. Soon after she receives her diagnosis, the film draws to a close as Cleo gazes into Antoine’s eyes, rather than into her own.

Poking Fun at “New Money” in Mon Oncle

Jacques Tati’s 1958 film “Mon Oncle” makes the center of its comedy the clashing of the old and new French lifestyles, as well as the class divisions. We follow M. Hulot as his brother tries to get him a job (and a wife) in this new economy. He’s shown to be a kind neighbor, and a good uncle to Gerard. Thus when we see him struggle to keep up with modernity, as in the kitchen scene where the new appliances seem determined to keep him from completing even simple tasks, we aren’t given to laugh at him, but at the kitchen. While at almost every turn the movie reinforces the idea that the modern house, and by association the new rich folk, are impractical, and obsessed with form over function. Such as the ridiculous stone garden which has almost no plants, and strange paths which the characters walk tentatively and awkwardly on.

The opening shots highlight the juxtaposition of the new, modern world being built on the still inhabited, partially rebuilt ruins of the old one. The environment becomes a focus nearly greater than that of the characters by the nature of the film’s cinematography. The camera greatly favors wide shots, and never moves to track the characters. Putting a large emphasis on the almost grayscale color palette of the modern areas, with their smooth, sterile surfaces. Compared to the colorful, lively scenes of old France, with its lower class folk. The diegetic sound in these areas also portrays a sense of homeliness, compared to the often near-silent scenes in new France. When the sound in the modern areas, particularly the Plastac factory, it instead instills a feeling of discomfort, portraying the sense that the world is busily attending to its increasingly alien duties with little to no regard for the people like M. Hulot.

The Bicycle Thieves: Relationship of Father and Son in the film

The film vividly shows the struggles of small people in the background of the times. In addition, I would like to say that several scenes and designs in the film are also very good at describing the relationship between father and son. I think the existence of the son has enriched the connotation of the film. From the process of the father and son searching for bicycles, we can see that this is a harmonious father-son relationship, with mutual trust and strong love. To some extent, bicycle is the common hope of both father and son. Although the process of seeking hope is a process of suffering, in this process, it reflects the dignity of father and son’s personality. When the father heard that a child fell into the water, his concern for his son immediately took precedence over the stolen “bicycle”. However, when the father and son’s suffering reached the unbearable weight in life, the father’s morality began to collapse, and he became a bicycle thief, and was physically and morally insulted by everyone. All this was seen by his son. At the end of the film is a very interesting scene, where the father cries like a helpless child, but the son held his hand like an adult. This is a very impressive scene in the film, which adds to the tragic meaning of the film. It can be said that if the father stole the car without the children’s attention, the plot might not be so heartache and impressive.