In fact, they are the oldest paintings ever discovered. More than twice as old as any other.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams

(2010)

Werner Herzog has, of late, lost all his funding. Hence his reinvention as a documentary film maker. Actually, that’s not really true. He’s always mixed fiction and documentaries, but the latter seems to have become predominant over the last two decades (his last feature, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is splendidly lunatic, and well worth seeing). Cave might not be among his best work, but the subject matter is fascinating enough to hold the attention through a sometimes rambling and over-extended running time.

Herzog is a welcoming narrator, and his disposition to frame his appreciation of a subject in artistic terms is an attractive one. It doesn’t always pay off but, when the material is the oldest known example of art, the reasoning seems perfectly logical. Certainly much more pertinent than a starchy examination of the science of preservation (although this is touched upon).

The Chauvet caves in Southern France were discovered in 1994, having been preserved across the millennia after their entrance was sealed by a rock fall. Public access was promptly prevented by the imposition of a steel door at the new opening, in order to preserve the delicate environment within. As Herzog relates, the paintings are the oldest ever discovered, “more than twice as old as any other”. There were even initial doubts as to their authenticity, because they looked as fresh as if they had recently been painted (abundant stalagmites formed following the first sealing of the caves).

The creatures depicted on the walls include horses, rhinos, bison and lions. And a bear apparently possibly having sex with a woman (dirty bears!) Werner gets quite excited about this, and promptly drops in a Baywatch reference (although made for the History Channel, this isn’t your usual po-faced anthropology and at times it maybe should have been a bit more disciplined). Fascinating information is littered throughout, including the revelation that a span of 5,000 years occurs between some of the paintings and that the cave was not lived in buy humans but used ceremonially.

Herzog is at his best as he warms to a theme on how shadows cast on cave walls were akin to a Stone Age version of cinema. He also embraces the spiritual implications of the site, seizing on how some of the assembled group felt compelled to leave after a few hours there because they felt that there were “eyes upon us”. He identifies the failings of a purely scientific examination of the caves, and is particularly attached to the open-mindedness of a scientist and former circus performer who readily admits that a 21^st century take is limited by a lack of understanding of how people then interacted with their world. This includes ideas of fluidity and spirit (“I am not painting, the hand is painting”) and appreciation of time (“We’re locked in history and they are not”).

He’s on less solid ground when he gets distracted by a scientist/amateur musician keen on playing primitive pipes and a perfumer who attempts to sniff out caves; this just seems like filler. And while the news that a replica theme park is planned in the region seems like an inevitable capitalisation of this discovery, Herzog’s attempt to draw a parallel between mutant albino crocodiles living in a nearby hothouse (heated by water from a nuclear power station on the doorstep of the caves) with humans (at least, that’s what I think he was doing) comes across as muddled. It also detracts from the documentary as a whole; he really should have left us thinking about the paintings rather than little Mr. Snappy.

***

Comments

They'll think I've lost control again and put it all down to evolution.

Time Bandits (1981) (SPOILERS) Terry Gilliam had co-directed previously, and his solo debut had visual flourish on its side, but it was with Time Bandits that Gilliam the auteur was born. The first part of his Trilogy of Imagination, it remains a dazzling work – as well as being one of his most successful – rich in theme and overflowing with ideas while resolutely aimed at a wide (family, if you like) audience. Indeed, most impressive about Time Bandits is that there’s no evidence of self-censoring here, of attempting to make it fit a certain formula, format or palatable template.

I never strangled a chicken in my life!

Rope (1948) (SPOILERS) Rope doesn’t initially appear to have been one of the most venerated of Hitchcocks, but it has gone through something of a rehabilitation over the years, certainly since it came back into circulation during the 80s. I’ve always rated it highly; yes, the seams of it being, essentially, a formal experiment on the director’s part, are evident, but it’s also an expert piece of writing that uses our immediate knowledge of the crime to create tension throughout; what we/the killers know is juxtaposed with the polite dinner party they’ve thrown in order to wallow in their superiority.

Oh, you got me right in the pantaloons, partner.

The Party (1968) (SPOILERS) Blake Edwards’ semi-improvisational reunion with Peter Sellers is now probably best known for – I was going to use an elephant-in-the-room gag, but at least one person already went there – Sellers’ “brown face”. And it isn’t a decision one can really defend, even by citing The Party ’s influence on Bollywood. Satyajit Ray had also reportedly been considering working with Sellers… and then he saw the film. One can only assume he’d missed similar performances in The Millionairess and The Road to Hong Kong ; in the latter case, entirely understandable, if not advisable. Nevertheless, for all the flagrant stereotyping, Sellers’ bungling Hrundi V Bakshi is a very likeable character, and indeed, it’s the piece’s good-natured, soft centre – his fledgling romance with Claudine Longet’s Michele – that sees The Party through in spite of its patchy, hit-and-miss quality.

Never lose any sleep over accusations. Unless they can be proved, of course.

Strangers on a Train (1951) (SPOILERS) Watching a run of lesser Hitchcock films is apt to mislead one into thinking he was merely a highly competent, supremely professional stylist. It takes a picture where, to use a not inappropriate gourmand analogy, his juices were really flowing to remind oneself just how peerless he was when inspired. Strangers on a Train is one of his very, very best works, one he may have a few issues with but really deserves nary a word said against it, even in “compromised” form.

You must have hopes, wishes, dreams.

Brazil (1985) (SPOILERS) Terry Gilliam didn’t consider Brazil the embodiment of a totalitarian nightmare it is often labelled as. His 1984½ (one of the film’s Fellini-riffing working titles) was “ the Nineteen Eighty-Four for 1984 ”, in contrast to Michael Anderson’s Nineteen Eighty-Four from 1948. This despite Gilliam famously boasting never to have read the Orwell’s novel: “ The thing that intrigues me about certain books is that you know them even though you’ve never read them. I guess the images are archetypal ”. Or as Pauline Kael observed, Brazil is to Nineteen Eighty-Four as “ if you’d just heard about it over the years and it had seeped into your visual imagination ”. Gilliam’s suffocating system isn’t unflinchingly cruel and malevolently intolerant of individuality; it is, in his vision of a nightmare “future”, one of evils spawned by the mechanisms of an out-of-control behemoth: a self-perpetuating bureaucracy. And yet, that is not really, despite how indulgently and glee

Miss Livingstone, I presume.

Stage Fright (1950) (SPOILERS) This one has traditionally taken a bit of a bruising, for committing a cardinal crime – lying to the audience. More specifically, lying via a flashback, through which it is implicitly assumed the truth is always relayed. As Richard Schickel commented, though, the egregiousness of the action depends largely on whether you see it as a flaw or a brilliant act of daring: an innovation. I don’t think it’s quite that – not in Stage Fright ’s case anyway; the plot is too ordinary – but I do think it’s a picture that rewards revisiting knowing the twist, since there’s much else to enjoy it for besides.

I'm an old ruin, but she certainly brings my pulse up a beat or two.

The Paradine Case (1947) (SPOILERS) Hitchcock wasn’t very positive about The Paradine Case , his second collaboration with Gregory Peck, but I think he’s a little harsh on a picture that, if it doesn’t quite come together dramatically, nevertheless maintains interest on the basis of its skewed take on the courtroom drama. Peck’s defence counsel falls for his client, Alida Valli’s accused (of murder), while wife Ann Todd wilts dependably and masochistically on the side-lines.

A herbal enema should fix you up.

Never Say Never Again (1983) (SPOILERS) There are plenty of sub-par Bond s in the official (Eon) franchise, several of them even weaker than this opportunistic remake of Thunderball , but they do still feel like Bond movies. Never Say Never Again , despite – or possibly because he’s part of it – featuring the much-vaunted, title-referencing return of the Sean Connery to the lead role, only ever feels like a cheap imitation. And yet, reputedly, it cost more than the same year’s Rog outing Octopussy .

You’re easily the best policeman in Moscow.

Gorky Park (1983) (SPOILERS) Michael Apted and workmanlike go hand in hand when it comes to thriller fare (his Bond outing barely registered a pulse). This adaptation of Martin Cruz Smith’s 1981 novel – by Dennis Potter, no less – is duly serviceable but resolutely unremarkable. William Hurt’s militsiya officer Renko investigates three faceless bodies found in the titular park. It was that grisly element that gave Gorky Park a certain cachet when I first saw it as an impressionable youngster. Which was actually not unfair, as it’s by far its most memorable aspect.

I don’t like fighting at all. I try not to do too much of it.

Cuba (1979) (SPOILERS) Cuba -based movies don’t have a great track record at the box office, unless Bad Boys II counts. I guess The Godfather Part II does qualify. Steven Soderbergh , who could later speak to box office bombs revolving around Castro’s revolution, called Richard Lester’s Cuba fascinating but flawed. Which is generous of him.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog