The Quay Brothers adapt Franz Kafka’s THE METAMORPHOSIS as only they can
LIP-READING PUPPETS: THE CURATORS’ PRESCRIPTION FOR DECIPHERING THE QUAY BROTHERS: THE METAMORPHOSIS BY FRANZ KAFKA (The Quay Brothers, 2012)
MoMA Film, Museum of Modern Art
11 West 53rd St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
Monday, January 7, 4:30
Tickets: $12, in person only, may be applied to museum admission within thirty days, same-day screenings free with museum admission, available at Film and Media Desk beginning at 9:30 am
212-708-9400
www.moma.org
The magnificent Quay Brothers survey exhibition at MoMA, “Quay Brothers: On Deciphering the Pharmacist’s Prescription for Lip-Reading Puppets,” comes to a close today with the third and final screening of their latest masterpiece, a forty-minute adaptation of Franz Kafka’s seminal novella The Metamorphosis. In the 1970s, Philadelphia-born twins Stephen and Timothy Quay made a series of pencil drawings based on Kafka’s 1915 story about a traveling salesman named Gregor Samsa who wakes up one morning to find he has been transformed into a giant insect. In 1980, the Quays made the rarely shown six-minute short Ein Brudermord, inspired by the Kafka short story that translates as “A Fratricide.” So they jumped at the chance when Russian-born concert pianist Mikhail Rudy asked them to make a film set to a score he had put together featuring the music of Kafka’s fellow Czech artist, Leoŝ Janáček, as part of a special program for Paris’s Cité de la musique. “The images need to float independently from the music to allow one to better ‘see’ the music and ‘hear’ the moving image,” the twins wrote in a correspondence with Rudy. Black, white, and gray dominate the screen as Gregor’s parents, small puppets whose heads slightly bobble when they walk, have great difficulty dealing with their son’s new form. But Gregor’s sister, Greta, shows compassion for him, playing the violin and bringing him food; her humanity is emphasized in that she is portrayed by an actual living, breathing woman, not a puppet, a rarity in the Quays’ oeuvre. The only color comes from bloodred streaks on the insect Gregor and the pieces of apple his father throws at him. The music, performed live by Rudy — his piano was supposed to be onstage, melding with the visuals, but MoMA’s Roy and Niuta Titus Theater cannot accommodate that — includes Janáček’s Piano Sonata 1.X.1905, “On an Overgrown Path,” and “In the Mists,” adding haunting beauty to the heartbreaking story, which the Quays and Rudy infuse with powerful emotion. This North American premiere — the project has been performed only once before, at Cité de la musique last March — reveals the Quays to once again be unique and exceptional interpreters of classic literature and music, resulting in another film that dazzles the senses. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka is screening January 7 at 4:30 not only as part of MoMA’s “Lip-Reading Puppets: The Curators’ Prescription for Deciphering the Quay Brothers” but also in the annual series “The Contenders,” consisting of exemplary films the museum believes will stand the test of time; upcoming entries include Sally Potter’s Ginger and Rosa, Raoul Ruiz’s Night Across the Street, and Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained.
French filmmaker Mia Hansen-Løve’s third film is an infuriating yet captivating tale that runs hot and cold. Goodbye First Love begins in Paris in 1999, as fifteen-year-old Camille (Lola Créton) frolics naked with Sullivan (Sebastian Urzendowsky), her slightly older boyfriend. While she professes her deep, undying lover for him, he refuses to declare his total dedication to her, instead preparing to leave her and France for a long sojourn through South America. When Camille goes home and starts sobbing, her mother (Valérie Bonneton), who is not a big fan of Sullivan’s, asks why. “I cry because I’m melancholic,” Camille answers, as only a fifteen-year-old character in a French film would. As the years pass, Camille grows into a fine young woman, studying architecture and dating a much older man (Magne-Håvard Brekke), but she can’t forget Sullivan, and when he eventually reenters her life, she has some hard choices to make. Créton (Bluebeard) evokes a young Isabelle Huppert as Camille, while Urzendowsky (The Way Back) is somewhat distant as the distant Sullivan. There is never any real passion between them; Hansen-Løve (All Is Forgiven, 
For more than thirty years, Cameron Mackintosh’s musical theater production of Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel, Les Misérables, has been entertaining audiences in Paris, on London’s West End, on Broadway, and on tours around the world. Fans have been eagerly anticipating the film version for decades, and now that it’s here, they can let out a big sigh of . . . what, relief? Regret? Revolution? Revulsion? Oscar-winning director Tom Hooper (The King’s Speech) has put together a lavish, star-studded spectacle that ends up biting off a whole lot more than it can chew, which doesn’t go over well in the slums of early-nineteenth-century Paris. Hugh Jackman is wonderfully cast as Jean Valjean, a valiant man who has spent nineteen brutal years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread. Russell Crowe tries hard as Inspector Javert, who is determined to bring Valjean to justice after he breaks his suffocating parole. Changing his life — and his name — Valjean becomes a model citizen, even mayor, and seeks to help the disadvantaged, including Fantine (Anne Hathaway), a former employee of his who will do whatever it takes to provide for her young daughter, Cosette (Isabelle Allen). The first half of the film, which goes from 1815 to 1823, develops well enough, with strong, emotional performances by Jackman and Hathaway and a haughty “Master of the House” number led by Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen as innkeepers taking care of — and taking advantage of — Cosette. But things start falling apart quickly once the story jumps to 1832 and an older Cosette (Amanda Seyfried) has fallen in love with young revolutionary Marius Pontmercy (Eddie Redmayne), while Javert is still hunting down Valjean. The budding romance and coming battle are simply dreadful, as are the songs. (“Do You Hear the People Sing?” We wish we didn’t. “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables”? Alas, just about every seat in the large theater was taken.) The overly melodramatic final scenes, which seem to never end, suck any life that was left over from the first hour or so, which had at least created a compelling mood and intriguing characters. Unable to decide whether it’s a historical epic or a timeless romance, Les Misérables ends up being neither.
Lovingly restored five years ago by Janus Films in a new 35mm print, Albert Lamorisse’s The Red Balloon, which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes and an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, tells the story of a young boy (Pascal Lamorisse, the director’s son) who makes friends with an extraordinary red balloon, which follows him through the streets of Belleville in Paris, waits for him while he is in school, and obeys his every command. But the neighborhood kids are afraid of this stranger and go on a mission to burst the young boy’s bubble. Lamorisse gives life and emotion to the balloon (more than twenty-five thousand were used in the making of the film) in a masterful use of simple special effects well before CGI and other modern technology. The Red Balloon, which also features the splendid music of Maurice Leroux and the fine photography of Edmond Séchan, is kicking off the new series “Film Forum Jr.” on January 6 along with Robert Cannon’s Oscar-winning 1950 animated short Gerald McBoing McBoing (followed by a Gerald McBoing McBoing sound-alike contest) and Claude Berri’s Oscar-winning live-action short Le Poulet. The new Film Forum series will be screening family-friendly movies at 11:00 on Sunday mornings; upcoming programs include Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr., Creature from the Black Lagoon in 3D, the Marx Brothers’ Horse Feathers, and the original Frankenstein and King Kong.
Based on a 1720 Bunraku puppet play by Monzaemon Chikamatsu, Masahiro Shinoda’s Double Suicide is a stagy style-over-substance adaptation that features some beautiful sets, a compelling score by Toru Takemitsu, but an overly dramatized, talky production in which the characters’ devotion to duty and honor ultimately grows weary and frustrating, even if that’s part of the point. Kichiemon Nakamura stars as Jihei, a paper merchant who is in love with a courtesan, Koharu (Shima Iwashita, Shinoda’s real-life wife). Jihei is willing to risk everything — his business, his reputation, and his family, including his wife, Osan (Iwashita in a dual role), and their two children — in order to redeem Koharu and take her away from the red-light district. But wealthy entrepreneur and crude loudmouth Tahei (Hosei Komatsu) threatens to redeem Koharu first, forcing Jihei to decide between his family and Koharu — knowing that either decision could lead to tragedy. Much of what little action there is takes place on claustrophobic sets that evoke the theater, with men dressed in dark clothing, their faces covered, serving as Koroku, or puppeteers, helping things along without directly influencing what comes next. Considered a classic of the Japanese Nouvelle Vague, Double Suicide was named Best Picture at both the Kinema Junpo and Mainichi Film Concours awards. Double Suicide is screening January 5 & 19 as part of MoMA’s “Art Theater Guild and Japanese Underground Cinema, 1960–1986” series, held in conjunction with the excellent exhibition “Tokyo 1955-1970: A New Avant Garde,” continuing with such other films as Nagisa Oshima’s Shinjuku Dorobo Nikki (Diary of a Shinjuku Thief), Yukio Mishima’s Yukoku (Patriotism/The Rites of Love and Death), Shohei Imamura’s Ningen Johatsu (A Man Vanishes), and a program of short works by Donald Richie and Shuji Terayama.