8 ½ mujeres

Frederico Fellini's "8 1/2" is a movie this one is theoretically inspired by. There are consistent references to it in this film, some subtle, and some glaringly obvious. One should take this into account so that it will not hamper one's voluntary suspension of disbelief, though this movie definitely stands on its own if the viewer has never seen "8 1/2".

Voluntary is, perhaps, an inappropriate word. This movie takes disbelief, which should certainly be present, and suspends it for you, in a most amusing way. The film may well attempt to say something deep about human nature, and the interaction between a fickle heart which has lots of love to give and a bored brain with so many thoughts - but it doesn't say it so loud that you can't just sit back and enjoy the picture. Some scenes are funny to all; some scenes may cause you to be the only hysterical person in the theater. In any case, it's well worth the ticket or rental cost. Some male nudity is present, though no more than the average British movie containing male nudity. No sex scenes are overly graphic, though one should definitely have an open mind going into the movie in order to enjoy it. If you didn't feel a significant need to leave the theater during "Gouttes d'eau sur pierres brûlantes," which I was last week, you should be able to thoroughly enjoy this film.

(Lighting designers watch for the Kabuki scene; it won awards in Europe and definitely looks very cool.)

The 1st third of the film is densely textured with text and image overlays (as in his last few films). The effect reminds me of nothing more than the collages of Tom Wesselman and to some extent the paintings of Sigmar Polke. The interactions of the many layers is quite masterful & I especially like the way that everything, including actors dialogue and plot are treated equally as texture.

Each section of the film begins with a text overlay of the scene description from the script. The full text is never on screen long enough to be read in its entirety. This reinforces the sense of story and dialogue as texture... of text as texture.

The 2nd third of the film moves away from the visual overload mode as the theme of collecting sexual fantasies (represented by the women in the harem built by the Father and Son) comes into focus. It reminds me a bit of the collage-novels of Max Ernst in that it hangs a string of reveries on the framework of linear narrative... but the narrative is really just an excuse for manipulating images.

The 3rd third becomes a bit turgid, probably because the pattern of collecting women (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8...) has become obvious by this time. In fact the film shows itself for what it really is.... a catalogue of desires. It is not particularly erotic though it represents a list of fantasies... whatever the subject is, it still retains the character of a list. This has the effect normalizing the erotic. One no longer questions whether the pleasures depicted are "normal" or "perverse"... they all become equal... a decorative pattern.... in much the same way that the dialogue resembles a complex pattern more than it does naturalistic speech.

In many ways it reminds me of De Sade's "120 days of Sodom" (an old Surrealist favorite) which I also find to be as un-erotic as a list. As one of the characters in the film states: (it simply) "follows the fantasies to their logical conclusion". It seems to be more of an intellectual exercise aimed at unshackling desire... it does not seem to be aimed at provoking desire (in the viewer).

There are, however, many poetic passages. During a scene in which one of the women is shaved bald the father and son pick up clumps of hair and attempt to describe the smell:

"it smells like canaries...'

"like brown sugar taken out of a damp paper bag..." &tc.

The images are also poetic. My favorite is a japanese woman clad in a very red kimono singing nasally in front of a very blue door & next to a very pink pig.

The sons (apparent) ability to invoke earthquakes (orgasms?) is also an interesting poetic touch.

Most disappointing -- Greenaway's slide continues on from the flagrantly banal "Pillow Book", which looked like a pornographic Sprint commercial and had about as much intellectual impact. The thin visual style of "Women" harkened back to "Drowning by Numbers", one of my personal favorites, but the interchangeable, glibly apathetic characters lacked the depth necessary to hold it up. As usual, some interesting discussion of the body and its trappings, but sadly, prematurely self-referential and dull on the whole. Note that Vivian Wu manages to turn in yet another openly wretched performance, this time while fully clothed; Toni Collette provides minor temporary relief with her hilarious accent.

A master visual allegorist reaches farther and fails. But not for the reasons others claim here. Greenaway has never centered his films in the narrative -- we'd always be frustrated to look for satisfaction there. (`Drowning' which among his works most delivers a story does so incidentally.) And this is a film about women, not sex, which will frustrate others.

Here is his most character-driven film. At last, he works on closeups and some character definition. The primary ordering of the film is by basic archetypes of women, particularly archetypes drawn by men. This is supposed to be his most painterly film: the representative women are to be presented in scenes that reference famous paintings. Greenaway has stated that painting cuts to the basic drivers in cultural revolution, and the representations of women therein are tokens for everything conceived. Women thus are both humans and basic tokens in the redefinition of life.

Such a rich conception is thoroughly Greenawayan and might have formed the skeleton for another masterpiece. Along the way, we have by now familiar devices. Numbers: random as in pachinko rather than ordered. Contrasts between Eastern (here just Japanese) and Western management of concept and image. Some slight use of layered images, here in the self-reference of displaying the screenplay.

My complaints are two. I consider them fatal, but still celebrate Greenaway.

The notion of archetype depends on clarity, a natural orthogonality and completeness of classes. Here we have the nun, whore, Chinadoll, servant, cripple, childbearer, fetishist, butch, and spontaneous addict. Time is invested in defining these. A few are singled out to be something more than props for lush compositions: the geisha chinadoll, the lesbian accountant, the gambler and the opportunistic, openly enthusiastic whore. But in bringing them to life, they escape their categories: two of these are male impersonators, another two financial manipulators, another two vamps. Three are Japanese. Usually, Greenaway's combination of painting (erudite structure and framing of scenes) and film (narrative, development) reinforce one another. Here, they dissonate.

The second problem may be more fundamental. You really have to know your stuff to enjoy these films. My knowledge of The Tempest is rather deep, so I saw how rich was `Prospero's Books.' I read up on restoration comedy for `Draughtsman,' and discovered art in the viewing that I presume no one else in the theater saw. This film is supposed to reference the feminine archetype not as defined by popular culture, but by the history of painting. My knowledge of the art is poor, so I cannot attest to how deep the annotations are here. (Little use is made here of the layered image and narrative comment. Wonder why, since it would have been so natural.

But I do know Gauguin, who also was a visual allegorist, who also worked with feminine archetypes and also the fascination with Asian differences. His monumental canvas `Where are We Going?' does just what this film purports.

I wonder if there is little there in this film.

I've heard and read much criticism about Greenaway's homage to Fellini, "8 1/2 Women", and have found it both predictable and amusing. Every Greenaway film evokes raw, often disturbing emotions in the viewer-- this is nothing new, yet is treated like a revelation with every new release. And some fans and critics of Greenaway seem to be keeping a running score of his visual/emotional offenses, even tending to get irate when he fails to shock or disturb on the level of his other films. But again, this is nothing new.

So I'm humored at the reaction to "8 1/2 Women", for it is as visually stunning/arousing/disturbing as many of its predecessors while it is actually quite tame by Greenaway's standards (for one, the cannibalism/mutilation theme is missing). Yet we have those who are disappointed at the lack of shock or those who are too easily shocked, and Greenaway has long proven that you can't make everyone happy in filmmaking and, honestly, he really doesn't care what you think. You only have to watch.

He is really very similar to Fellini in this way as he is in so many others. I'm no great fan of Fellini's, not as much as I am of his successors anyway, but the parallels are apparent. Fellini worked in absurdities the way Greenaway works in the dire or some artists work in oils. He made the most ridiculous scenarios seem beautiful, artful... even sexy. He imprinted upon film as art and future filmmakers that strange and disjointed often equals desirable, and Greenaway clearly took this to heart. But like Fellini, Greenaway films come with an automatic caveat: You will see things that we are taught to abhor and despise in our society, you will have to think about things from which humans naturally shrink away and you will bear witness to the possibility that great beauty can be found in the mire if you can manage to look long enough. Greenaway's "awfulness" and attempt to disgust you is his medium and his brilliance (and his great joke on you), and if this doesn't sit well with you then you shouldn't watch Greenaway. It's as simple as that.

So, that being said - "8 1/2 Women". Not Greenaway's best, but certainly not his worst. Again we get to share in his great love of the human form in all its beauty and imperfection-- both of body and of character. But this is his most lighthearted attempt and is thoroughly enjoyable for that alone. The relationship between the widower Philip Emmenthal and his earthshakingly prattish son Storey is genuinely touching, as are their relationships with the various women they bring into their lives to replace their lost wife/lover/mother. Equally moving is the fact that these women become much more than mere objects or possessions in their house, but rather individual character studies on the strength of femininity and the power that women have over men. While Fellini's "8 1/2" may have been semi-autobiographical, here Greenaway seems to have tapped into the fantasies and realities of the relationships between men and women everywhere, focusing on the fact that neither are as simple as they seem. And that while mere sex will inevitably falter in the face of deeper love, such meaningful relationships are elusive and fleeting. He doesn't tap very far through, which is this film's only failing; the relationships and characters, some of whom are downright silly, are often taken at surface value and the themes, especially regarding sexual dynamics, are nothing new to cinema.

Nevertheless, "8 1/2 Women" is a lovely, surprisingly sincere and often humorous account of men, women, family, self-identity and the rewards of living out your fantasies along with their tempering costs. Highly recommended for anyone who has been scared away by Greenaway's other films or for anyone else who truly enjoys the beauty found in strong women and faltering men.