Salt Of The Earth (1954)

There are many different reasons why a movie is a ‘cult movie’. I haven’t read Danny Peary’s write up of the film Salt Of The Earth (1954) in his book Cult Movies 2. I presume it has to do with the fact that it was pulled from release and difficult to see for a long time. The reason being the Hollywood Blacklist. The creative people involved in Salt Of The Earth were on the blacklist for accusations of being tied to communism – director Herbert J. Biberman, screenwriter Michael Wilson, producer Paul Jarrico and composer Sol Kaplan. So they decided to make a blatantly socialist movie in response. Salt Of The Earth is quite amazing to watch in how it is so strongly pro-union, pro-feminist and stridently socialist for a 1950s American movie. The downside is that as strongly political movie, it feels like a didactic “news of the world” documentary newsreel at times – this is the issue, here is an illustration of it. Based on a real incident involving miners striking for safer conditions, the film is narrated by Esperanza (Rosaura Revueltas) who is the central character and spirit of the movie. Her husband Ramon (Juan Chacon) is a miner and a key figure in the stop-work motion after their demands for safer conditions are not met. With no running water or plumbing for their family, Esperanza wants better conditions at home. The movie is more about the struggle for the wives to be heard at the union meetings and for their domestic requests to be recognised by the movement, particularly Ramon who continually reduces Esperanza to a wife and mother rather than as someone with agency and a political voice. The story advocates for collective action to have any power against big business and management. Filmed in black and white, cast with non-actors amongst the professionals and influenced by the neo-realist movement, it is a stridently message movie. Yet loud and clear messaging is no less galvanising, even more so in the here and now. It’s also staggering to see something so bold without having to ‘smuggle’ in its politics; the obvious price paid was that it was pulled from theatres and blacklisted for its ‘communist’ messaging, and even the main actor Rosaura Revueltas was deported back to Mexico for being a communist. Available to stream on Kanopy but it’s also in the public domain, so you can find it on YouTube. Recommended.

Where Is The Friend’s Home? (1987)

After seeing one or two Abbas Kiarostami directed films, friends had recommended the Koker Trilogy – not an official trilogy but three films shot in the Iranian village of Koker. Where Is The Friend’s Home? (1987; Khane-ye dust kojast) was added to Mubi recently and I was very keen to see it. Whenever I see a Kiarostami movie, I think of how simple they are – but “simple” is a reductive description, they are quite complex and deep movies. Maybe it’s more that the scenarios are everyday and neo-realistic. We focus on a classroom of boys and the stern teacher who admonishes a student Mohammed (Babek Ahmed Poor) for not bringing his homework in his notebook; this is his final warning. Our main character, Ahmed (Ahmed Ahmed Poor), watches with sadness as Mohammed – his friend – cries openly in class. Later in the afternoon at his home, Ahmed realises he has both he and Mohammed’s notebook after a mix up walking from school together. His mother tells him to do his homework and doesn’t take in the severity of this mix-up, that Mohammed would be expelled for not doing his homework in his notebook. Ahmed makes a bold move, running off to return the notebook, a huge moment accompanied by Amine Allah Hessine’s score. A simple action but not without challenge as the friend lives in the next village over a hill and Ahmed doesn’t know the location. Along the way, he meets people who either try to help him or waste his time. We are there with Ahmed in close-ups as he looks up wide-eyed at the adults who don’t listen to him or dismiss his kind-hearted mission. By the end of the movie and its perfect closing moments, I had a heavy heart and tears in my eyes. What a thing of beauty. An ode to duty, friendship, loyalty, perseverance – but all presented as everyday and matter of fact. The use of non-actors and the framing of particular shots feels like a particular magic act. All presented in an 83-minute movie that never feels cloying or overly sentimental – but is on the children’s side, particularly with Ahmed’s strong performance – what a heroic character. Available to stream on Mubi (and Criterion Channel). Recommended.

Vagabond (1985)

Every time I watch an Agnes Varda movie that is new to me – though already heralded a great one by critics and friends – I’m left thinking, “Why am I not watching more of Varda’s movies all the time?” Vagabond (1985; the French title is Sans toit ni loi, which translates to “with neither shelter nor law”) is a drama about Mona, a young woman played by Sandrine Bonnaire, who is discovered dead and frozen in a field in the French countryside in the opening moments. Presented in a documentary style, the film alternates between scenes of people who encountered Mona, talking about her as well as their own lives, and narrative scenes where we follow Bonnaire’s performance as the defiant, resourceful drifter. She sleeps in a tent wherever she can find a spot, earns money by doing cash-in-hand jobs, and talks to people on the road with an eye for a cigarette to take or some shelter for a moment. Bonnaire is arresting in her performance – even if we don’t know everything about her past and why she has chosen this drifter life, we can read her state of mind sometimes with the people and situations she falls into, the moments of connection, and then the moments of boredom whenever rules or orders are placed upon her. I think what I loved about the film was how Varda offers empathy to everyone depicted, allowing background characters to talk to the camera occasionally, peek into other lives, all the while maintaining a focus on Mona’s character. Yet even though Varda’s approach is empathetic, it is still critical of the social structures in place, the inequalities against women, lower class people, immigrant workers. Its eyes are wide open, even as it conveys a sense of sadness around this person’s eventual end – it is not necessarily a tragedy if this is the way she wanted to live, free and on her own terms – the film is open to the contradiction and the different reactions people will have to her. I also just emotionally connected to Mona’s need to turn on a radio whenever she could and have a pop song play in the background. Available to stream on Mubi as part of their Agnes Varda collection. Recommended.

The Basilisks (1963)

I’ve only seen one Lina Wertmuller movie and that was Love And Anarchy, which was great. Wertmuller’s debut film The Basilisks (1963; I basilischi aka The Lizards) was featured in the Mubi library in a remastered new edition. One sleepy Saturday morning, I decided to take a gamble on it and after the five minutes, I was glad that I did, as it opens with a sequence narrating the afternoon siesta where the entire town is practically asleep after eating lunch. Set in a small town in Southern Italy against a scenic mountainside and made up of brick and stone lanes of apartments and flats, it is apparently similar to a place Wertmuller grew up in; she was inspired by a recent visit where she realised nothing had really changed. Filmed in black-and-white by cinematographer Gianni Di Venanzo (right after he shot Fellini’s 8 1/2), it is a neo-realist drama with moments of humour and melancholy observations about such a place where nothing happens. Focusing on three young fellas – Tony (Antonio Petruzzi), Francesco (Stefano Satta Flores) and Sergio (Sergio Ferrarino) – who try to chase women (who are not let out or only accompanied by family), avoid being married off by their families for economic benefits, and dream about the fast life in the city of Rome. Even within the provincial area, there are still pressures for wealthier people like shop owners to not hang out with the children of farmers. A socialist initiative beckons farmers to work together to own a stake in their livelihood while others get nostalgic – both farmers and landowners – over the iron rule of the fascist parties. I thought this was an observational, entertaining yet sad coming-of-age story, backed by a score from none other than Ennio Morricone, which moves from oddball tones to operatic flourishes. Great small moments showing the post-war influence of pop culture such as a young guy sitting in a club silent and still, a dejected expression on his face, while listening to an upbeat record of ‘Let’s twist again.’ Specific to its location but relatable in its focus on place and people, this was well worth seeking out (and at 85 minutes running time as well). Available to stream on Mubi. Recommended.

Pather Panchali (1955)

The images in Pather Panchali (1955) directed by Satyajit Ray, have a quality like classic silent cinema – there’s something so luminescent and glowing about them, helped by the remastering and restoration of the film in 2015. A beautiful and quietly devastating movie, it focuses on a family living in rural Bengal during 1910. The father, Harihar (Kanu Banerjee), is a priest but dreams of being a writer and goes off on trips to sell his services, while the mother, Sarbajaya (Karuna Banerjee), worries about money, how she will feed her children, repair the dilapidated house, pay back debts. All the while, young Apu (Subir Banerjee) runs around and plays, taking everything in, alongside his oldest sister, Durga (Uma Dasgupta), who steals fruit for their cheeky Auntie (Chunibala Devi). Observational in its narrative and beholden to the neo-realist movement (Ray was inspired to become a filmmaker after having seen Bicycle Thieves, is what I’ve read), there are so many great moments and images; the montage of Apu when we are first introduced to him as a boy, the close up on his face hearing about the train in the distance, the stillness of nature before an incoming rain storm, etc. The use of silence, pulling Ravi Shankar’s wonderful sitar score at key moments, had such impact. I wasn’t sure what to expect aside from the high acclaim that Pather Panchali has received in film studies and the history of cinema; it was a very wonderful and ultimately moving viewing experience (available to stream on Kanopy). I look forward to seeing the other two films in the Apu trilogy – if anyone else is a fan of Ray’s films, please let me know any other titles to see. Recommended.