Week 49/2023

For six years already, Sabzian has been inviting a guest to contemplate the state of cinema today, craft a text that illuminates cinema's essence and potential significance, and choose a film that connects to it. For this year’s State of Cinema event, Sabzian and Bozar welcome French filmmaker Alice Diop. Diop's cinematic endeavours focus on the individuals she is “conditioned to reject”, aiming to secure their position within film heritage. Alongside her contribution, Diop has selected Sarah Maldoror’s film Sambizanga. Join us at Bozar on Thursday. 

Despite Jarmusch never having visited Memphis prior to creating Mystery Train (1989), the film remains a compelling portrayal of the city. Jarmusch captures the city through the lens of an outsider who’s enchanted by its musical legacy (with icons like Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, and Roy Orbison recording there) and  seeks to uncover the echoes of its influence. Split into three narratives, the film unfolds as a canvas of Jarmusch’s musings, exploring themes of travel, solitude, crime, and the supernatural. Roger Ebert wrote that the difference between Jarmusch and many other indie filmmakers is that “he chews before swallowing.” 

On Sunday afternoon, delve into the haunting reality of a Depression-era dance marathon with They Shoot Horses, Don’t They (1969) at De Cinema. Sydney Pollack's raw realism captures the desperate, muted shuffling of contestants spiralling into exhaustion and collapse as Jane Fonda’s and Michael Sarrazin's characters endure gruelling hours of dance in pursuit of a cash prize. Pollack creates a microcosm within the ballroom, where characters devoid of pasts or futures exist solely in this relentless competition, unable to escape despite their growing weariness and the futility of their endeavour accumulating with every passing hour.

Mystery Train
Mystery Train , Jim Jarmusch, 1989, 110’

A rock ’n roll-obsessed Japanese couple pays a visit to Graceland, the home of Elvis. An inept gang of thugs hide out after a liquor store robbery. A frazzled Italian widow has a ghostly encounter with the King himself. All their stories collide in one sleazy downtown motel in Memphis, Tennessee.

EN

Mystery Train might be the apogee of Jarmusch's interest in the past-its-prime corners of America, capping off a quasi-trilogy that began with Stranger Than Paradise (1984) and Down By Law. Without a doubt one of the greatest films about Memphis ever made, Mystery Train proudly pays its dues to the musical legends and ghosts that call the birthplace of rock 'n' roll home. Japanese tourists introduce the city in the film's first vignette, having traveled from Yokohama to see Sun Studios and Graceland in their pursuit of the King. The second section, ‘A Ghost,’ finds another stranger to Memphis (Nicoletta Braschi) fleeing an ominous man in a diner only to end up splitting the cost of a hotel room with a down-on-her-luck chatterbox. The third section, ‘Lost in Space,’ is by far the best display of Jarmusch's dry sense of humor, a comedy of errors featuring Joe Strummer (yes, of The Clash), Steve Buscemi, and Rick Aviles. While the vignettes are ostensibly separate narratives, the Hotel Arcade (run by a desk clerk played by Screamin' Jay Hawkins), a passing train, Tom Waits' voice, Elvis' eerie ballad ‘Blue Moon,’ and a gunshot link them all.

Cine-tourists who visit the corner of South Main Street and G.E. Patterson Boulevard today will find it as unrecognizable from its seedy starring roll in Jarmusch's film. Even the Hotel Arcade has long since been torn down, its location indicated only by a plaque memorializing Mystery Train as the birth of the ‘modern wave of Memphis moviemaking.’ But while Memphis might be a little less dilapidated than it used to be, the film remains a beautiful tribute – if not to one of the less-than-glamorous American cities, then to the puzzling and serendipitous ways we all fit together within them.”

Jeva Lange1

 

“It's now obvious that calling his comedies shaggy-dog stories isn’t good enough. They aren’t really stories at all. Each is an amalgam of attitudes, images and music, especially music (blues, jazz, rock), which evoke something most cheering and comic about the human condition, even in extremis. Watching Mystery Train for the second time, I was especially struck by what a fine screenwriter Mr. Jarmusch has become. The dialogue sounds as if it had been gathered by means of microphones hidden in diners, buses, waiting rooms, restrooms, motels and park benches. Sometimes hilariously banal, with never a word wasted.”

Vincent Canby2

 

“Long before the mainstreaming of allyship, faux- and genuine, into cultural discourse, Jarmusch set himself apart from other like-minded white directors by incorporating Black art and artists into his work. His cross-cultural ethos organically demanded he not only reject the marginalization of non-white cultures, but also assert that ‘white culture’ derives from appropriation. (It’s impossible to be a pronounced fan of rock ‘n’ roll without grappling with these issues.) From Mystery Train onward, Black characters move through Jarmusch’s films without being fitted for an ill-fitting pedestal, or the aid of a patronizing spotlight. […] bell hooks once cited the scene in Mystery Train when Jun and Mitsuko are delighted to hear a Black man thank them in Japanese as one that ‘challenges our perceptions of blackness by engaging in a process of defamiliarization.’ (‘Way before Tarantino was dabbling in ‘cool’ images of blackness,’ she continues, ‘Jarmusch had shown in Down by Law and other work that it was possible for a white-guy filmmaker to do progressive work around race and representation.’) A testament to the powers of moving outside of your experience, Jarmusch exhibits an ineffable comfort in his films with cultures and philosophies far from his own.”

Vikram Murthi3

 

Mystery Train premiered at Cannes 1989, was a great success, and confirmed the promise Jarmusch showed when Stranger than Paradise premiered there in 1984. His influence in the1980s resurgence of indie filmmaking is incalculable. He differs from some indies, however, in the formal calculation that goes into his composition and editing. Jarmusch is in no hurry to get anywhere. He chews before swallowing. He will rest on a shot to allow it to reveal itself; shots aren’t the impatient hurrying along of a story. Notice how some of his traveling shots in Mystery Train seem to dictate the movements of characters, rather than following them. See how he isolates a portion of an interior rather than ‘establishing’ a whole location. Notice the unobtrusive manipulation of time when the drunks are riding around in a pickup.”

Roger Ebert4

screening
De Cinema, Antwerp
They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?
They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? , Sydney Pollack, 1969, 118’

The lives of a disparate group of contestants intertwine in an inhumanely grueling dance marathon.

EN

“In Sydney Pollack’s thoroughly realist film They Shoot Horses, Don’t They (1969), Jane Fonda and her partner Michael Sarrazin take part in a Depression-era marathon dance contest, pushing themselves to dance for days out of desperation for a cash prize. The result is muted, wilted shuffling that gives way to exhaustion and collapse. Men may be just as likely to die on the dancefloor, but it’s women who bear the tragedy – they surrender to breakdown or self-harm in Pollack’s depiction of this strange historical moment. The pain and exploitation of their public ordeal is a cutting indictment of a rigged game. That it’s Jane Fonda’s failed actress Gloria who sees this with the most brutal clarity seems like no accident.”

Christina Newland1

 

“Director Sydney Pollack has built a ballroom and filled it with characters. They come from nowhere, really; Michael Sarrazin is photographed as if he has walked into the ballroom directly from the sea. The characters seem to have no histories, no alternate lives; they exist only within the walls of the ballroom and during the ticking of the official clock. Pollack has simplified the universe. He has got everything in life boiled down to this silly contest; and what he tells us has more to do with lives than contests. […] 

The characters are comedians trapped in tragic roles. They signed up for the three square meals a day and the crack at the $1,500 prize, and they can stop after all whenever they want to. But somehow they can't stop, and as the hundreds and thousands of hours of weariness and futility begin to accumulate, the great dance marathon begins to look more and more like life.”

Roger Ebert2

screening
De Cinema, Antwerp
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