Lars Von Trier‘s Nymphomaniac, Volume Two is about a downward spiral in the fate of Charlotte Gainsbourgh‘s Joe. Her sexual obsession loses its wings and begins folding in upon itself. Her narrative goes in a darker and colder direction with less and less oxygen. Where Volume One used dry satire to mitigate a somewhat arid and clinical tone, Volume Two is a cinematic equivalent of a “cold spot” in a haunted house.

I’m not saying it’s without interest. I can’t call it dull. I only looked at my watch twice. But where Volume One was joyless, bloodless sex with orgasms, Volume Two is the same without orgasms. It’s also blanker, creeper and kinkier. Pain, depravity, the lash, anal, urine sprinklings…you don’t want to know.

Just what I need in my life — a Criterion Bluray of a 1955 Douglas Sirk soap opera in which 29 year-old Rock Hudson, whose performances cannot be watched these days without contemplating where he was really coming from appetite-wise, “falls in love” with 38 year-old Jane Wyman, playing a mousey, past-her-Johnny Belinda-prime spinster who seems all but smothered in 1950s propriety and was at the time probably the least attractive actress to play a romantic lead in motion picture history. Four years ago I noted that Sirk was mostly dismissed by critics of the ’50s and early ’60s for making films that were no more and no less than what they seemed to be — i.e., emotionally dreary, visually lush melodramas about repressed women suffering greatly through crises of the heart as they struggled to maintain tidy, ultra-proper appearances. This perfectly describes All That Heaven Allows, one of the most air-less and joyless films ever made by an admittedly skilled and accomplished director who flourished within the Hollywood system of the ’50s. Outside of the dweeb-critic realm it is comforting to know that Sirk has begun to be re-appreciated as a director of mopey, snail-paced dramas about dull, rule-following people who can’t let their feelings out.

A Criterion Bluray of Michelangelo Antonioni‘s L’eclisse (The Eclipse) will street on 6.10. I once “taught” a UCLA extension class about this 1962 landmark film. I’m using quotes because all I did was introduce it in a rambling, half-assed fashion (“It’s a movie about nothing, but you’ll remember it for the rest of your life”) and I screened the DVD. I then showed the class the following essay piece, “Elements of Landscape”, (’05) which is included on the Criterion DVD. It’s worth watching right now as it sums up the whole Antonioni asthetic — the entire ball of wax — in 22 minutes.

In his report about Sofia Coppola planning to direct a “live-action” (i.e., animated with CG) version of Hans Christian Andersen‘s The Little Mermaid for Universal and Working Title, Deadline‘s Michael Fleming wrote the following: “This is a departure for Coppola in that her projects are usually focused on adult themes. She’s got kids and it wouldn’t be shocking if she wanted to please them with a movie they can see and understand.” In other words, Fleming is suggesting, Coppola may have decided to use her leverage as a name-brand director to gift her kids in a big-screen way.

There is nothing lower or more wasteful or less interesting for a serious filmmaker to do than make a movie for kids…nothing. Okay, there have been a few exceptions (Francois Truffaut‘s Small Change, or L’Argent du poche) but it’s mostly a waste of creative juices. Due respect but I’ll be taking a pass on Coppola’s The Little Mermaid. For me the next Sofia Coppola film will be the one that follows it.

Wells to Sasha Stone: In terms of 21st Century female empowerment and women taking control of their lives and creating new opportunities in the culture, how does the basic Little Mermaid premise — i.e, “A young mermaid willing to give up her life in the sea and her identity as a mermaid to gain a human soul and the love of a human prince” — strike you? Is this something your daughter and her pallies will relate to? Should young women think about abandoning their own realms in order to (a) blend into normal society and (b) marry a powerful young husband?

The Young Adult novels that Hollywood has taken a shine to (Twilight, The Hunger Games, Divergent, The Maze Runner, The Giver) have a common generational theme. The elders (i.e., boomers) are ghouls who want to oppress or control us. Their scheme is to wedge us into functions or boxes or roles that have nothing to do with who we are. Our charge is to break free of this bondage. Hollywood always kills the golden goose by over-saturating. I honestly believe that Phillip Noyce‘s The Giver (Weinstein Co., 8.15) will be a better, smarter, classier expression (especially with Meryl Streep on-board) but what do I know? Here’s a Maze Runner trailer that popped through last October.

Nobody is more queer for behind-the-scenes color photographs of classic black-and-white films than myself…nobody. I guess I hadn’t looked hard enough but until this evening I had never laid eyes on a genuine color shot (i.e., not tinted monochrome) taken during the filming of Alfred Hitchcock‘s Notorious…not one.

Alfred Hitchcock, Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergman during filming of climactic bedroom-rescue scene in Notorious (’46).

As one who’s been made to feel uncomfortable by the problematically bulky Jason Segel being on the verge of serious beefalo for several years (beginning with that repugnant nude scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall), I must extend a crisp salute of respect to Segel for having trimmed down considerably for Jake Kasdan‘s Sex Tape (i.e, formerly Basic Math), which Sony will debut on 7.25. The obviously insubstantial comedy costars Cameron Diaz, Rob Corddry, Ellie Kemper, Rob Lowe and Jack Black.

Stanley Kubrick‘s cinematic eye was influenced by his having shot thousands of stills for Look magazine, of course, but more primally, I’ve read or discerned, by the framings of Sergei Eisenstein. (I’m thinking particularly of Que Viva Mexico!) I swear to God that every time I take a photo or a video clip I’m always framing like Kubrick and Eisenstein. Exactly like, I mean. Same shape, balance and focal point. John Ford‘s visual aesthetic was never quite this balanced and centered, but…well, that was Ford. (Source: Kogonada.com)

It’s common knowledge that Nicholas Ray‘s 55 Days at

Peking (5.29.63) is a visually handsome but mostly mediocre film. It was a commercial stiff, and proved to be the first stage in the downfall saga of producer Samuel Bronston, who was finally finished off by the disappointing revenues from The Fall of the Roman Empire and Circus World (released within four months of each other in 1964). Two non-Asians play significant Asian roles (Flora Robson as Empress Dowager Tzu Hsi, Robert Helpmann as Prince Tuan). And poor self-destructive Nicholas Ray collapsed during filming, and in so doing wrecked his career.

And yet, like an idiot, I’ve bought the French Bluray anyway because of the following passage from Gary W. Tooze‘s DVD Beaver review: “This was restored in 2013 from the 8-perf Super-Technirama 70 camera negative. I’m blown away by the image — the 1080p looks incredible — a gigantic upgrade from the DVD. [Plus] it’s region-free and the French subtitles are totally removable. Look at the colors and detail — wow! The Technicolor bursts off the screen at times. Detail, skin tones, depth…all looking tremendous!”

“Even though it stretches to nearly two-and-a-half hours and concludes with an extended gun battle, by the time Divergent ends it still seems to be…clearing its throat. Blame it on burdensome commercial expectations, perhaps: Adapted from the first novel in Veronica Roth’s blockbuster YA series, this film has clearly been designated an heir apparent to Summit-Lionsgate’s massively lucrative teen-targeted Twilight and Hunger Games properties. Yet director Neil Burger seems so concerned with laying franchise groundwork that he neglects to create an engaging standalone movie, and Divergent‘s uncertain sense of setting, bloated plot, drab visual style and solid yet underwhelming lead turns from Shailene Woodley and Theo James don’t necessarily make the best case for series newcomers.” — from Andrew Barker‘s 3.16 Variety review.

The depression that followed James Cameron‘s commitment to deliver not one or two but three Avatar sequels, planned for release in 2016, 2017 and 2018, was fairly profound. Three sequels? It used to be that major-league directors made films because they were excited by some challenge or because they were aroused by certain echos or themes or metaphors in the material. Now, it seems, they’re just following the cash because corporate franchise movies are regarded by zombie production executives as the only safe bets. James Mangold recently announced he’ll be doing another effing Wolverine movie after helming X-Men Apocalypse. Why? Because the market allegedly wants these films and he’s going for the dough while the getting is good. (Which puts Three Little Words and The Deep Blue Good-by on back burners.) Which name-brand directors have respectfully passed when presented with an opportunity to direct a sequel for a handsome paycheck? “Sorry but I can’t make a movie just to make money…I have to feel a certain degree of genuine passion”…who has said that over the last 20 or 25 years?

Incidentally: Who re-spells “goodbye” as “good-by“? Sub-moronic.

Six days after my 3.11 “Monster of Nothingness” piece about the surreal disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370, some CNN guys flirted with the notion of a supernatural explanation. But that’s old news. The new thought is that the pilot and his co-pilot are/were nutters who used a “terrain masking” procedure to avoid radar: “Malaysia Airlines flight MH370 dropped to altitudes as low as 5000 feet, using a dangerous flying technique called ‘terrain masking’, to avoid radar in at least three countries, investigators believe. Terrain masking is used by military pilots for stealth flights.” — Lindsay Murdoch, Sydney Morning Herald.