M, The Rise of Fear

Fritz Lang’s ‘M’ starring Peter Lorre

There are so many ideas packed into Fritz Lang’s noir thriller ‘M’, his first to utilize sound, but there is one pervasive theme that stuck to my ribs like a black tar suffocating my soul: the power of fear. When thinking about this film, it is impossible to ignore the reality of 1930’s Berlin and the fact this film was shot less than 3 years before Hitler completed his rise to power. It opens with children singing a playful song about the child murderer who is on the loose, and we soon learn the depth of fear that has spread throughout the city as police have failed to catch the killer. What follows is many scenes of police raids, interrogations, and wild finger pointing pitting neighbor against neighbor and friend against friend. It expertly shows how fear and the propagation of fear can cause everyday citizens to willingly cede more and more freedom and power to the authorities in the hope of alleviating that fear. It is particularly disturbing to watch knowing the looming specter of Hitler and fascism was already beginning its rise at the same time audiences were watching this film in cinemas around Berlin. Sadly, it also echoes the finger pointing, fear mongering, and mob mentality that has been on the rise in America and around the world as more and more leaders with fascist ideas have come into power. What is it about humans that cause us to act out the same tragedies over and over again? They say that those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, but sometimes I wonder, are we simply doomed to repeat it no matter what? Is it merely part of the cycle of life, and it’s only the methods and means by which it plays out that evolve, but not the reality itself?

‘M’ also exposes the hypocrisy and duplicity that pervades all institutions in a large scale civil society the likes of which exist in major cities around the world. This monster that everyone can project all of their fears and their problems onto allows not only the police to come together in pursuit of justice, but also the entire criminal underground of the city. There is one long scene where Lang intercuts meetings between the heads of both the police and the city’s criminal organizations as they desperately attempt to hatch plans to catch the killer. They are on opposite sides of the law, but their behaviors and motivations are exactly the same, to protect their own organizations from public scrutiny and disparagement. Similarly, the tactics of each group disregards the rights and freedoms of the everyday citizens in favor of catching the killer at all costs. However, it is one of the leaders of the criminal underground that lays bare just how hypocritical both groups are being in their actions. He decries how this monster of man is hurting their business and giving all criminals a bad name, basically likening what they do as a necessary and normal part of society that is threatened by this killer who is acting outside of the norms of society. This is an idea you can hear repeated again and again in different forms to this day, the idea that financial crimes are not really crimes because they usually don’t include physical harm, and when they do it is only a side effect and not with intent, so it is not as bad. We have learned to let the rich and the powerful off the hook because of this very idea, even if their crimes ruin the lives and livelihoods of hundreds or thousands of people, while we demonize individuals with serious mental health issues or major socio-economic disadvantages who commit violent, and sometimes even non-violent, crimes against individuals. 

Finally, going back to theme of justice that was also explored in The Passion of Joan of Arc, both the police and the criminals claim to be in pursuit of justice on behalf of the people, but we have already seen through their actions that they have no clear consensus on what justice is. In fact, it is the criminals who put M on trial in a makeshift underground court, complete with lawyers, judges, and jurors of their own choosing. To see a bunch of criminals mimicking the same unjust systems that the state has imposed upon them is so absurd and ironic as to make the appeals of M for mercy and understanding even more surreal. He feels so out of the norms and society and so misunderstood that it is clear to him not even they can understand his obsessive compulsions. It is truly shocking to the system, because it is clear that Lang’s message is one against capital punishment, and he chosen the most horrifying of subjects intentionally to make his case. As a viewer, we are so disgusted by his appeals for understanding because of the vile nature of his crimes that we still want to fall into the same mob mentality of everyone else and see him torn apart for his crimes. So again we must ask, what is justice? Who decides? How can something that seems like it should be absolute be so murky? Do we feel good letting these people we’ve seen be so hypocritical and disdainful of the ‘commoner’ decide on justice? Do we feel satisfied seeing him handed to the same police who tolerate these normal criminal elements of the city and who happily subvert the people’s freedom in pursuit of their brand of justice? Can we tolerate M living in a mental institution receiving care for his mental illness and possibly being set free again one day? There are no satisfying answers, only the dark realities of human nature and the human mind. 

In addition to these ideas, ‘M’ visually sets the blueprint for two whole sub-genres of cinema that will later become wildly popular: the hunt for a serial killer movie and the heist movie. The film shows off evidentiary and psychological investigative techniques that feel way ahead of their time as both the police and the criminal underground use every tool at their disposal to capture the killer. It also takes great thought and care in its 2nd half as the criminals break into and office building in search of the killer, showing their skills of intimidation, thievery, and surveillance. We see images of fingerprints, blueprints, police reports, locks and alarms at the same time as we hear discussions of motive, psychological profiles, burglary and escape plans. The time and care taken with all of these details is very meticulous for a film that is really focused on much bigger ideas about society, and you can see how these visual techniques have been repeated endlessly in these two sub-genres of cinema all the way up to today. Also the use of shadows and empty spaces to build suspense and create tension is done masterfully and is a staple of all film noir to come. How one film can help set precedents for so much of film history almost beggars belief.  ‘M’ may lose a bit of focus and momentum towards the end, especially compared to today’s standards, but it is undoubtedly a masterwork of film that has a lot to teach us about human nature and modern society that is as relevant today as it was then.

Still Walking, Still Longing

Still Walking (2008) by Hirokazu Koreeda

There is a scene early in “Still Walking” where Grandma is frying fresh corn fritters and she recounts an oft repeated family story about stealing corn from the neighbor’s farm right after moving in to their house 2 decades ago. She recalls how the neighbor later brought over corn as a welcome offering, and how their oldest son Junpei quickly jumped in to say “Mom, we didn’t have to go buy corn at the green grocer’s”, cleverly explaining the cooking corn to save his mom the embarrassment. After she finishes the story, Grandpa chimes in with, “He could be so smart that way!”, as younger son Ryota sits listening awkwardly to this story he’s heard told the same way a hundred times. Much later, Ryota lashes out at his father and tells him that the famous Junpei line from that story that he always finds so clever was said by Ryota, not Junpei.

This one simple interaction tells you everything you need to know about the family dynamics and relationships in an instant. You see, Junpei died 12 years earlier, and they are remembering him on the anniversary of his death. And Junpei was a doctor who was going to step into Grandpa’s shoes after retirement, unlike Ryota, who is a lowly art and cultural artifact restoration specialist. Naturally, Ryota has always felt like a disappointment while Junpei has been honored and revered by the family in death. So it is a real twist of the knife to hear his father lavish the praise he never gives Ryota onto Junpei for something that Ryota said. It is these careless ways in which family members hurt one another that is really at the heart of Still Walking.

Our relationships with members of our family are always the most complex and complicated ones, especially those between parents and children. Our patterns of emotional and behavioral response are ingrained from birth for children, and for the parents, they are inherited from the previous generations. I think most of us have experienced how we can change and evolve as adults and be completely different people in our adult lives, yet when we get home around our parents we can so quickly revert right back to the same emotional and behavioral responses as in childhood over the tiniest little thing. When you add that reality to the unique responsibilities that come with the parent-child relationship, it is nearly impossible for parents and children to communicate openly and honestly in a way where both parties feel heard and understood, even as adults. For many, these patterns of interaction never evolve and so the relationship does not either. How easy it is to carelessly hurt someone we love when we haven’t taken the time to really hear them and understand them as merely a human. In fact, Ryota at one point ends a defensive diatribe to his parents with a soft plea to be heard and understood by saying, “we’re only human”.

As proof of the complexity of family relationships, I have devoted so much time only scratching the surface of how 4 of the family members relate to one another, and yet there are so many more familial dynamics at play to explore. Ryota also has a sister with an immature husband and 2 rambunctious children who want to move in and help take care of Grandma and Granpda in his place since Ryota has no interest in that responsibility which traditionally would fall to him after Junpei’s death. There is also Ryota’s new wife, a widow and mother of his new stepson, desperately trying to be accepted by his family. And of course there is the strange boy-man they invite over every year, the one whose life was saved by Junpei, the one who the family blames for Junpei’s death. All of these dynamics are at play in one house on one day. But of course what makes this film so beautiful, and what makes a lot of classic Japanese cinema beautiful, is that you understand everything about this family through the visual storytelling and their interactions, but nothing is made overt. It is a realistic and subtle reflection of the cultural family dynamics specific to Japan that of course any Japanese person will recognize, but that I also think anyone from any country will recognize. While the manifestations these dynamics take from one culture to the next may change, they themselves are quite universal. However, not many modern filmmakers reveal them through film as elegantly as Hirokazu Koreeda. 

I’d like to end with a quick conversation about Koreeda’s aesthetic style as a filmmaker, and why he is such an elegant and subtle storyteller. The advice I have most taken to heart as a filmmaker myself is the old adage, “show, don’t tell”. The most powerful thing about film as an unique art form is the ability tell a story through moving images. When working in a visual medium, why have a character or a narrator explain something through dialogue when it can shown through character action or emotion? Koreeda is a master of “show, don’t tell”, from the way he frames still shots within a space to reveal only and exactly what he wants you to see, to the way his actors give you so much information about their emotional state through their actions, their posture, and their reserved but revealing expressions. He also is brilliant at mixing in brief moments of absolute cinematographic beauty into the more intentionally mundane but expertly composed shots of everyday family life, better mirroring the rhythms of real life. Koreeda has proven himself a master visual storyteller over the past 2 decades and I highly recommend you check out any of his family dramas to gain insight into Japanese family cultural dynamics while also possibly gaining a new perspective on your own family dynamics.

The Passion of Joan & The Silencing of Women

Maria Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc

I chose Joan of Arc as the first film I would watch because I’ve long heard that it is a groundbreaking work of visual storytelling and performance, two qualities I value greatly in film. However, I never expected how eerily relevant it would be to today and what’s been happening with the #metoo movement and the response to it. We begin with Joan on trial and being judged by a panel of religious old men as to the veracity of her story. It couldn’t help but evoke the image of the testimony of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford in the Brett Kavanaugh hearings. Throughout history women have been subjected to this cold reality of being harshly judged by a cabal of old men on everything from their appearance, to their actions, to their words, all the way to the core of who they are as a woman. And this classically absurd image of a group of unattractive old men, raised up onto a higher level so they can look down on the woman they are judging, commenting on her appearance and questioning every detail of her story, is so perfectly captured in these opening scenes of The Passion of Joan of Arc.

It can take a few minutes the adjust to the style and pace of this silent era film which uses simple text on a black background to convey dialogue between scenes, but once you settle into the different rhythm it is easy to get absorbed by the emotional drama of the story. This is heightened by the intimate closeups that are used constantly throughout this film, especially on the face of Maria Falconetti’s accused Joan. The lighting and cinematography is so impeccable in these shots that her face almost shines and we can see every emotion and every doubt that she experiences in her trial and punishment. I will venture a guess that this was the first film in history to use such an intimate style of closeups as a major feature of the storytelling, and it is a risk that really pays off, thanks in large part to Falconetti’s performance. We see her always looking up at her judges, as the camera also looks up at these men looking down on her and the viewer, judging her and judging us too for being aligned with her. There is no escape from her predicament for the audience, no relief from the endless pressure and prodding by the judges, instead we are forced to wrestle with the magnitude of her struggle in a very confronting way.

And with that I must return to the parallels between the character of Joan and the universal struggle of women to be believed when they share their truth, especially when it comes to an issue that is challenging to the status quo of a male-dominated society. Every answer Joan gives to the judges is followed by a question intended to undercut her response and undermine her credibility. We see this time and again in public discourse with sexual assault victims, and we see it in a hearing like the one Dr. Ford took part in. Of course there has been a lot of progress made between then and now, but we can still do a whole lot better. I certainly believe we can reach a place of empathy, belief, and affirmation of women that can change the culture and change the way men think about their relationship to women in the world. And I think watching films like The Passion of Joan of Arc that do a good job of putting the viewer’s feelings and experiences in alignment with the female victim of persecution can help bring about that change.

Joan is a true believer in God. Her understanding of God and his message is in direct opposition to the leaders of the Church who are judging her crimes. Thus God plays a crucial role in her story. I have never had a personal relationship with God nor have I needed his word to guide me. I think this is the case with many people today, especially younger generations. However, I think we all have a sense of Justice and a faith that it will be carried out over the long arc of history. Joan uses God as her source of strength to speak out against the Church and speak up for the French people. We use our faith in Justice to speak out against those in power who abuse that power, like the men in power who want to silence women speaking out about sexual assault. But God and Justice are both intangible, we can neither see nor touch them. So everyone can interpret them in their own way and argue with one another over who is right. And when your sense of God or Justice does not agree with that of those in power, they will do anything to silence or discredit you. It is the very men who represent God that discredit and punish Joan for her beliefs. And it is the highest court of Justice in America where Brett Kavanaugh was placed by the men who tried to silence and discredit Dr. Ford. 

So where does this all take us? For Joan, it took her to the stakes to be burned in public as warning not to speak out against the Church. For Dr. Ford, it put her abuser on the Supreme Court in a position to make future legal decisions that could affect a women’s rights regarding her own body and how America adjudicates sexual assault cases in the future, which I could argue is also a message to women to think twice before speaking out in public against powerful men. For the rest of us, it is hard to say where we go. While both God and Justice can give faith and hope to victims who suffer these horrendous ordeals, and both can serve as a source of strength and inspiration within people who doggedly push for and pursue systemic change, they are not enough. The cold realities of the world require us to keep pushing for systemic change and cultural evolution, because if no one pushes, the world will never move. And while God and Justice may serve some in this pursuit, they are not prerequisites for creating change. Dialogue, challenging those in power, speaking our truth, listening to others, and trying to extend empathy and understanding to even those most opposed to our beliefs so that they may do the same, these are the tools we all must use, regardless of our belief in God or Justice.

Joan’s faith in God moved her to act, but it was belief in her story and empathy for her plight and fate that gave many more people in France strength and inspiration. I don’t know if Dr. Ford, or any of the other accusers that have come forward en masse during the #metoo movement, came forward out of a sense of Justice for themselves and other women, but whatever their source of strength to endure the public backlash, the simple act of speaking up and speaking out has inspired and given hope to millions of women that change can come. The confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh was a disheartening outcome for many, just like Joan’s death was for the people of France. It’s what we do in response to that outcome and future outcomes that determines what change will come.

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Welcome to Films With Meaning

I love film. It is a pure joy for me to watch beautiful cinema. Every year my love affair with film has grown stronger and deeper. It teaches me about the world. It teaches me about people. It teaches me about myself. I have always believed film has the power to show us worlds we could never imagine. Of course this includes the make-believe of fantasy and science fiction, but it also includes other countries and cultures we have never experienced.

Before film, the only way to understand these far reaches of the world was to go there and live among the people and experience the culture firsthand. But through film, we can hear voices from around the world, expressing views and feelings on universal issues with a different perspective. To travel the world and experience all its beauty and sadness, its hope and suffering is divine; but for most of us it is not that easy. However, we are now living in an age of unprecedented access, and there are other ways to experience the beauty and sadness, the hope and suffering of the world. And I know of no other way more powerful than film.

It may be a bit lofty, but that is my goal, to share the world with you through film. I have had the great fortune to travel around the world and experience many places myself. However, my introduction to the wider world beyond my rural hometown in Maryland was film. Watching the cinema of the world is what opened my eyes and expanded my horizons, and it was the first thing that planted the seed of desire to travel and explore the world. I’m excited to go back to where it all started for me, the classics of world cinema, and share my perspective with you. I hope to introduce you to films you don’t know, and I hope to spark discussion and debate on issues that matter. Welcome to Films With Meaning!