One Of Those Moments - Seduction in "Children Of Paradise"

In a beautiful poetic film of many diverse and wonderful characters, my favourite moment comes down to pure carnal desire. It's a simple look and casual statement made by a sleepy-eyed woman to a man. Contrary to what he may think as she stands near a bed, she's not tired in the least. Her gaze is direct and her smile is anything but coy.

It's a wonderful sensual act which isn't lost on her male companion - especially when it's followed by the delicate positioning of her fingers on the bed and a deliberate reveal of her long legs.

It's sexy as hell.

One Of Those Moments - "Only The Young"

It's pretty much the very last scene of the movie - a wandering documentary about two teenage boys, skateboarding, a girl and a whole lot of unknowns about everyone's future - as the high school choir rises up on the soundtrack and two best friends hug during grad ceremonies and wrestle each other to the ground. This rousing and wonderfully joyous moment showing the unrestrained glee of these two boys at simply being in each other's company, sums up nicely what those tight bonds mean at that age.

It's now available on DVD in a single set along with the most awesome Tchoupitoulas.

One Of Those Moments - "Kes"

I posted the following on Rowthree as part of its Finite Focus series and thought it might fit nicely with my own "One Of Those Moments" posts.


Suppose a man has a hundred sheep. lf one of them strays, does he not leave the other 99 on the hillside and go in search of the one that strayed? And if he should find it, I tell you this, he is more delighted over that sheep than over the 99 that never strayed.


The bible passage above, as spoken by a young girl at a school assembly in Ken Loach’s magnificent film Kes, is pretty straightforward in its message: embrace those who are different and who wander away from the expected. It’s a shame none of the adults in the movie actually pay attention to it and quite ironic that they spend a great deal of the time bemoaning how “these kids” never listen.

Every single adult – parent, teacher, boss, social servant, etc. – appears to obstruct the children from pursuing their own paths. They berate them constantly, push them towards the same dull existences they were forced into and seem to demean them at every turn. The assembly scene is a precursor to the school’s principal admonishing a group of boys (most of them innocent) for various “crimes” and, before caning them, essentially telling them all that they are worthless and that it is pointless for him to even try talking to them since they never listen. It’s comical, yet very sad due to the very realistic style of the movie and the picture it paints of the working class of 1960s England.

It’s the scene that follows this, though, that is one of my favourites of the film and one that shows that you can occasionally find hope (even if at some point it may be dashed) in dire circumstances. The titular character of the film is actually a falcon (a kestrel to be precise), but it is his owner, the young schoolboy Billy Casper, that is the focus. Picked on by just about everyone and having just come from his own caning (simply for having fallen asleep at the assembly due to his early morning chores), Billy is pulled into his class’ discussion about “Fact And Fiction”. His teacher Mr. Farthing is asking students to define what a fact is and to tell the class a factual story or event that occurred to them. Catching Billy not paying attention, he singles him out and appears to be yet another adult trying to assert his control.

You’re going to tell us a story about yourself.

I don’t know any sir.

His classmates, fearing they will all suffer if he can’t come up with a story, inform the teacher about the hawk. Gradually, Mr. Farthing coaxes out the details of the bird, Billy’s care of it and what he has done to train it.

Are you gonna tell us about it? How have you trained your hawk?





Billy begins to open up as Mr. Farthing has him come to the front of the class and write on the board some of the terms he uses when describing the training methods (“jesses”, “swivel”, “leash”). It’s at this point that you realize his teacher is different – he sees a light in Billy, he knows he’s different and he’s trying to find a way in to encourage him. While the class listens quite attentively (they even ask questions) to his gradual training methods and how he would slowly expand the distance his feathered (but tethered) friend had to fly to his food, Billy begins to describe the most exciting facet – the first free flight he allowed Kes. In a breathless tone that only young kids can really get away with without appearing to be overly dramatic or succumbing to exaggeration, Billy keeps his audience (both the class and the viewers) on pins and needles as he describes how he “were terrified” to let Kes roam free. After putting it off for awhile, he got mad at himself and realized that he had to just let Kes go and see what happened. He follows this thought with a wonderful tale of the first flight:

I saw her flying. She came like a bomb. About a yard off the floor, like lightning, head still, and you couldn’t hear t’ wings. There weren’t a sound from the wings – and straight onto the glove – Wham! And she grabbed me for t’ meat.

Billy finishes by saying “I trained her sir and that were all I could do”. There’s no posturing, no great big grin to his classmates, no great finale. He finishes with more of a whisper than anything. It’s all a sharp contrast to pretty much everyone we’ve seen previously – in particular, his bullying physical education teacher (who boasts of his soccer skills and punishes Billy for letting a goal in). It’s a terrific scene that puts a smile on your face and grants some possibilities for Billy. A later scene which shows Mr. Farthing watching Billy fly Kes and then joining him in the bird’s shed is equally as wonderful. Kes is beautiful – just as gorgeous sitting on a perch as he is in full flight. As Farthing says, it’s almost as if we have an instinct to give it respect.

However, this is 60s working class England and Loach doesn’t want to leave you with too much hope…The very next scene after Billy’s classroom tale has a much larger boy taunt him in the schoolyard which leads to a fight between the two – it’s as if the kids realized he had an upper hand on them. Billy actually had something he was good at, enjoyed and made him happy. How dare he. He had to be reigned in, controlled and brought right back down into the mud and filth (they end up fighting in a pile of coal). Just like the rest of the adults treat him. Sobering, but a truly fantastic telling of a great story.

One Of Those Moments - "Grosse Pointe Blank" (Part 2)

Grosse Pointe Blank (1997 - George Armitage)

Not moments after Martin Blank holds that smiling little baby boy, he's brought right back to his real life - being a professional killer. He strolls by his old locker and runs into a nemesis who has been sent to rub him out. What follows is a short, but wonderfully brutal fight against the locker bay. Perfectly matched to The English Beat's driving "Mirror In The Bathroom" (apologies to those who knew them as The Beat - I first knew them with the additional monicker attached), it feels quite authentic.










After clearing his mind for a few moments with the baby and possibly even imagining a new life with his old girlfriend, Blank is right back where he started. His face is filled with resignation as he unwillingly dispatches his would-be-killer.

One Of Those Moments - "Grosse Pointe Blank" (Part 1)

Grosse Pointe Blank (1997 - George Armitage)

Martin Blank has returned to his hometown for the first time in 10 years to do a job. Just so happens it's his 10 year high school reunion that same weekend. He's been feeling some angst about his career as a professional killer, so he takes the opportunity to take stock of his life. While at the reunion with the girl he abandoned before the prom 10 years ago, he runs into an old female friend from school who just happens to have one of the cutest babies ever...








It's a wonderful scene for more reasons than just the adorable baby though...

Aside from his old flame, the babies mother is the first "normal" person he meets that night. She's just simply happy to see him and they fall into a nice easy chat right away. She hands him her child to hold for a moment and he and the boy stare at each other. It's not a stunning revelation for Martin, but he hasn't seen anyone this innocent in a long time. Perhaps he's even seeing something that's missing from his own life.

And then it cuts to this gorgeous side shot of the brightly lit face of the boy and the twinkle in his eyes...

One Of Those Moments - "The Woman In Black"

The Woman In Black (1989 - Herbert Wise)

Previous posts in this series have concentrated on moments of heartfelt emotion, but I thought it was time to look at a different kind of moment - one that kinda stops your breathing for a second, sends a chill down the old spine and raises the hairs on your arms.

Mike over at Mellotron Sounds recommended The Woman In Black to me as a good addition to my horror viewing for the month of October. Though I missed that window, I caught up with it just this past week. He was right - it's a solid creepy ghost story.

Starting out very much like a British turn-of-the-century period drama, the story starts to delve into the murky waters of a particular incident that occurred in the marsh surrounding the mansion of a recently passed away old woman. The lawyer responsible for cleaning up the estate's affairs makes a trip to the town nearby and discovers a population of people not overly eager to discuss the mansion - especially when he mentions his sighting of a woman in black at the funeral. There also appear to be an inordinate amount of children's gravestones in the local cemetery. The central performance by Adrian Rawlins isn't quite strong enough to withstand all the screen time he has, but the story is intriguing and contains some disquieting moments.

After returning from the mansion and several "encounters" with its remaining presences, the young lawyer is resting in his hotel bed when he is finds a little toy soldier which has dogged him the last few days. He feels that the ghost of a young boy named Nathaniel has come to visit and thinks that perhaps the little boy wants to show himself. He asks with a smile "Nathaniel?":







A shadow looms over him and in response to the question he gets this:











The stills don't quite get across the "Holy crap" feeling I got when I saw it. The slow movement towards the camera is matched with a piercing, eerie scream that is unsettling in how relentless it is. There's a couple of cutaways to the solicitor's frightened reaction (as per the top screencap), but otherwise that hovering woman keeps coming closer and closer and won't stop screaming. Originally made for and aired on British TV, I can imagine numerous households cringing and recoiling on their couches.

It's a bit reminiscent of this scene from Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Retribution (though the sound field is used in a different manner). A direct, unwavering gaze that slowly but steadily approaches you with a feeling that it might actually go through you. That's a hair-raising moment.

One Of Those Moments - "Up The Yangtze"

Up The Yangtze (2007 - Yung Chang)

This fascinating documentary follows two young people who work on a cruise ship that takes passengers up the Yangtze river. Due to the Three Gorges Dam project, the water is rising and many people are being relocated. In this very short section of the film, as people argue out in the street about being pushed out of their homes or not getting properly compensated, the man being interviewed breaks down as he contemplates his situation...






"It's hard being a human, but being a common person in China is even more difficult. China is too hard for common people. Some officials are like bandits: beating, smashing, robbing...Even wanting a roof over our heads is difficult. When we had to move, we were dragged and beaten. No money to bribe the officials so they gave us a hard time. For common people living day-by-day...it's really not easy."


Heartbreaking.

One Of Those Moments - "Finding Nemo"

Finding Nemo (2003 - Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich)

I really do try not to be so obviously a parent sometimes. OK, I suppose including The Boy in my profile picture doesn't quite mesh with that statement, but I did say sometimes...I try to hold my tongue and not blather about all the fascinating things my child does or says because I know they aren't really that fascinating to anyone outside of my immediate family (though they should be...).

And I especially never want to be one of those people who says "Oh, you just can't understand it unless you're a parent...". But being a parent has certainly clouded my perception of moments - you suddenly have empathy for parents of crying children on a plane, you smile to yourself when you see another child waddling towards someone and you get sucker punched by scenes in movies. Even animated ones.

I don't know which Pixar film is my favourite, but I do know which scene is:






After searching for his young boy Nemo, Marlin finally finds him (sorry if I'm spoiling it for ya there...) only to see him crushed at the bottom of a huge school of fish spilling from a net. As he rushes up to him, we cut to Marlin's point of view:






We've already seen little Nemo in his cracked egg earlier in the film, but when that same short sequence shows up again here it just makes me crumble every single time...It's a simple yet beautiful way of showing how most parents might feel when their child is in danger or hurt - a strong need to protect them just like when they were helpless newborns - and how we may always see them as our little wee ones to be picked up and nestled.

Ah dammit, I'm welling up again. You wouldn't understand though unless yo...Uh, I mean, um, so how 'bout them Oscars, eh?

One Of Those Moments - "After Life"

After Life (1998 - Hirokazu Kore-eda)

It's funny how I forgot a number of details about a film whose central theme is memory. Kore-eda's "After Life" tells the story of a week in the life of a way station where people end up right after they die but before they move on to the hereafter. During the week spent at the facility, the newly dead get to decide which one memory they wish to stay with them for all eternity. The staff not only help them work out their decisions, but also then recreate that moment and film it for a final screening session at the end of the week. As each person relives their memory at the screening, they disappear and live on in eternity.

Though I had remembered the basic story arc of the character of Takashi Mochizuki, I had indeed forgotten the beautiful moment that occurs as this shot:



cuts to this one:




Without giving too much away, it's a beautiful end to the particular storyline and a perfect way to encapsulate the character's feelings.

The film is filled with memories - good and bad, joyous and bittersweet - and many of them are actual ones as told by non-actors (the cast list is filled with people who are only in this one movie). Among those guests I can't really tell who is an actor and who isn't - and I have no intention of finding out.