October 16th:
Audition (1999)
Kiri-kiri-kiri. This was my first time watching Audition, but it already felt iconic to me. My mother — still a Jehovah’s Witness at the time — once fell asleep in front of the TV and woke up in the middle of the night to
that scene. She was so upset. Now, it was finally my turn, and I'm definitely a fan.
Audition was also my first Takashi Miike film, and I have every intention to explore his filmography further. The first half has an eerie quality — psychological horror bubbling just beneath the still surface. The gory conclusion tends to dominate its reputation, but there’s a lot more to it.
Shigeharu (Ryo Ishibashi) is a middle-aged widower who, with the help of his producer friend, sets up a fake casting call to meet the "perfect" woman. He's instantly drawn to the young Asami (Eihi Shiina), and they soon begin a relationship. Unsurprisingly, things take a dark turn, and the rest is moviemaking history.
What I find particularly interesting about the film is the juxtaposition between Shigeharu and his son, Shigehiko (Tetsu Sawaki), and how they approach women. Shigehiko, still very young, is open-minded and confident as he begins to date, whereas his father is jaded, misogynistic, and desperate. Misogyny is one of the film's central themes, but there are elements and revelations to the story (no spoilers) that unfortunately muddle its impact slightly.
Nevertheless, I'm already looking forward to a rewatch. This was one hell of an experience, and I can only imagine how it must’ve felt to see it unspoiled in 1999. Brilliant.
October 17th:
Dante's Inferno (1911)
A 1911 adaptation of the Inferno portion of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy — and the first full-length film produced in Italy. I really fell in love with this one; it's such a sumptuous visualization of the source material. The blocking feels painterly, which is no coincidence, as a lion's share of the imagery draws directly from Gustave Doré's artwork: masses of bodies writhing in agony, devilish figures watching dutifully over them, and beautiful special effects — with nary a growing pain in sight.
The story itself is essentially a sparknotes version of Dante's journey with Virgil, but the visual storytelling is so captivating that it hardly matters. Its staying power lies in its imagery — still genuinely ominous more than a century later.
Dante's Inferno now joins the pantheon of my all-time favorite silent films.
