Sunday, July 8, 2012

That Taste In Your Mouth

Lately, I've really hit the jack pot of synchronistic films.  Last weekend I caught Heartbeats aka Les Amours Imaginaires.  Filmed with saturated colors and an almost whimsical noir style I instantly fell in love with this quasi love story about two friends who fall for who can only be described as a French narcissistic Adonis.  It helped that there were two scenes featuring songs by The Knife.  Here's one with Keep the Streets Empty for Me [note the French Adonis' satisfied smirk]:

Jane Campion's Holy Smoke with Harvey Keitel and Kate Winslet really touched a nerve [as most of her films do].  I hated The Piano the one and only time I saw it but adore In The Cut.  It occurs to me that maybe I hated The Piano so much because all of her films contain this essence of cruelty which at the time really turned me off.  Now I can see the layers of tenderness hidden within the cruelty and also twinges of true love akin only to madness buried in each of her characters.  And it is these flutters that make me fall so in love with each of them.  Campion has this way with her actors.  She, like von Trier, strips them to their core and films them in their most intimate of spaces; however, unlike von Trier, she doesn't just abandon them destroyed to pick up the pieces.  There is a level of transcendence that in turn marks the viewer.  In one scene, Harvey Keitel is wearing both lipstick and a dress while he and Kate Winslet confront themselves to each other.  It's powerful, lusty and so so wonderful.  [Obviously, I've got more than just a little bit of a crush on this film and Ms. Campion to boot].  The film features two Neil Diamond songs [which if you know me at all, you know how much I love him], Holly Holy and I Am I Said.

Here is the scene in which Keitel's character begins to fall for Winslet's and we can see just how desperately and willfully he can love. 

His love is clearly not chocolate boxes and roses, no it's dirtier than that... like some small animal that only comes out at night. Personally as long as we're on the subject, that my dears, is a favorite kind of love.  Mad, impractical, depraved, completely illogical and utterly transcendent.  It may only last a moment, but what a moment.  And luckily, Pulp has a song that fits my desire like a glove.



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