A Tale of Two...

Slouched over and glutted or maybe it was gutted in a post T'day daze, I barred all visitors and watched 2 sensational films this past week.

1. The first was a documentary by Martin Scorsese, 'Public Speaking' chronicling the life and times of the irascible, intellectual, cult figure Fran Lebowitz. Produced by HBO, Scorsese lets the camera roll as Lebowitz holds court at her booth in the Waverly Inn; no topic is off limits. An hour into the film you realize that this is a labor of love by both Scorsese and Lebowitz not so much about Lebowitz but about NYC; how the metropolis has morphed from one decade to the next, (ascension, decline, resurrection,) and what better conduit then one of the era's legendary, astute wits. I remember reading 'Metropolitan Life' in the 70's and thinking wow, I'd just stumbled onto Oscar Wilde's (Lebowitz would prefer I say, Dorothy Parker) doppelganger. I also watched (because we like to watch) Lebowitz carving out and nurturing, through the decades, a very precise physical persona. Cigarette, even to this day. Dark glasses. White long sleeve shirts. Lebowitz never met a pair of blue jeans she didn't love. Hmmm. Was she or wasn't she, a member of the club? Surely smart enough to be one, in the documentary she slides around the answer. Curmudgeon. Unique. A contemporary intellect with chops, this insightful documentary blew me off the couch for a double viewing.

2. Let me now sing the praises of Olivier Assayas. French. Once married to the beautiful Maggie Cheung, and director of the black and white cult film, 'Irma Vep' which is so amazingly good that really what else could follow...but a film with Cheung again in 'Clean' (she won an award) and the very slow, very French, very beautiful 'Summer Hours,' which he wrote last year. Assayas whose work always has an edge to it, whether it's defined by character or music, has catapaulted himself to the upper echelon of the screen pantheon with his latest movie, 'Carlos.' The film is over 5 hours long and a masterpiece. Assayas once said that movies depicted passage of time; 'Carlos' covers 20 years of Ilich Ramirez Sanchez, aka Carlos the Jackal, who roamed from Budapest, Germany, Syria, and France engaged in revolutionary terrorism. Do we care about this character? Yes and no in a peculiar voyeuristic way. The depiction from the mid 70's to the 90's when Carlos is finally captured is compelling stuff. Countries plot against each brazenly. The Syrians hate the Saudis. The German Statsi turns a blind eye. Sudan betrays. The CIA is a neutered specter. Women in this film are portrayed as 1. uncontrollable stone cold trigger happy revolutionists with more cajones than Carlos; or 2. significantly oppressed, marginalized, and manipulated. Fueled by alternative post punk music, a trademark of Assayas (music) the film whizzes through the 5 hours and closes with Los Lobos', 'La Pistola y el corazon' (a personal fave) while the credits roll. As surprising as that choice of music was, nothing could prepare me for Assayas' closing song, 'Little Cloud' by the Incredible String Band at the end of last year's 'Summer Hours.' Are you kidding me? What a man!