Bleak Week: Not Even Twice
Building on an American Cinematheque mainstay
Fun announcement: for those of you in New York City, I’ll be moderating my first-ever post-screening Q&A this Saturday, June 3 at DCTV’s Firehouse Cinema!
The film is After Sherman, which I raved about at last year’s True/False Film Festival. Looking forward to discussing with director Jon-Sesrie Goff. Even if you can’t make it, be on the lookout for the film when it extends its life through PBS’ POV documentary series.
Now, on with the show…
If you have any friends in Los Angeles, check in on them today. It’s the start of “June gloom,” a permission structure in which they give themselves the ability to lament having … grey skies and a slight chill. It’s hard, really, but I suppose it’s tough when you briefly lose the main appeal of your city and are just left to deal with … what it is! (You might think this is a little harsh on the Angelenos after having a — gasp — rainy winter, and I did think about taking my foot off their necks for a little bit in this lede. Nevertheless…)
One of the city’s main arms of repertory cinema, the American Cinematheque, leans into the June gloom with a new yearly series called “Bleak Week: Cinema of Despair.” There’s truth in advertising because it’s a program of some of the most depressing, grim movies you can think of. Year 2 kicks off today after Year 1 was, seemingly, a resounding success.
I know what you’re thinking already: why on earth is it even worth knowing about these movies? Who wants to be depressed? Look, it’s not my place to judge. But sometimes, we’re in places where we need a movie that can look unblinkingly at pain and suffering to tell us that these forces are not always redemptive or instructive. Sometimes, it just hurts to be alive. While that’s not the full story, in this writer’s humble opinion, these movies earn the right to be a little sad. Because of the honesty with which they approach humanity, they can arrive that feels both nihilistic and convincing.
My personal “Bleak Week” canon movies are the perfect weapon to wallow in sadness, if we’re going by Tony Stark’s description in Iron Man: “They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once.” Hopefully bright sunshine accompanies your summer along with health and happiness. But when gloom, June or otherwise, finds you … consider firing up one of these ten movies that I’ve only had the courage to watch once.
The Act of Killing, Hulu (and free with ads on Peacock)
Why not lead off with the light topic of genocide?! The Act of Killing gives its subject Anwar Congo, an Indonesian paramilitary gangster, enough rope to hang himself on-screen. He’s asked to recreate the feelings of his involvement in mass killings, laying bare how his sense of impunity has warped his mind. Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentary provides a horrifying window into how people who do horrible things can cast themselves as a hero in the story of their own lives — as well as how they build systems of power around them to reinforce their worldview.
Beanpole, Showtime (and rental)
How do you put your life back together after enduring a war? That’s the question for the two women at the core of Beanpole, who served not on the battlefields of World War II but on the homefront. Kantemir Balagov’s devastating work about the struggle to find hope and new life in the face of death and destruction is made all the more heartrending by its vibrant colors. This Russian film does not look as dour as it feels, and somehow that twists the knife all the more. (Balagov, who is my age, was a fascinating interview subject as well.)
Blue Valentine, Max
If you’re a true sadist after a painful breakup, Blue Valentine could well convince you that love doesn’t exist. Derek Cianfrance’s film cross-cuts the initial flame of romance between Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams’ characters and their dying embers. There’s no way to leave this film without a beautiful burn. By seeing how their initial connection is impossible to regain yet just out of reach, it’s all the more tragic to watch their apocalyptic bickering.
Come and See, Criterion Channel
There had to be one film about Nazism on here, of course. Elem Klimov never made another film after Come and See, his harrowing chronicle of a young boy forced to bear witness to the atrocity and inhumanity of the German occupation of Belarus. And after a film that stares directly into the nature of pure evil, I can see why there was really no need to step behind the camera again. This is a definitive film that everyone should see just once — it is as tough to sit through as you’re told. As it should be.
Cries and Whispers, Max and Criterion Channel
Ingmar Bergman often gets a reputation for being austere and impenetrable, which isn’t always fair. The films of the Swedish master are oftentimes quite funny and more hopeful than I think he even realizes. But I can’t say this extends to Cries and Whispers, his grueling chamber drama about the complete breakdown of communication between three sisters when one of them faces terminal cancer. Words fail in the face of her suffering, and the inability to provide adequate answers for the unthinkable begins to split apart their blood ties. Add in the punishingly vibrant red walls surrounding their scenes of distress, and you’ve got a movie that feels downright infernal.
Dancer in the Dark, rental
If you are under the illusion that all musicals are about impossibly happy fools divorced from reality, brace yourself for Dancer in the Dark. Lars von Trier’s lyrical tale follows Björk’s factory worker slowly losing her eyesight and thus her ability to provide for her son. The musical numbers take on an increasingly tragic dimension as they become her one refuge from a world that has no place for her. But, past a point, the two realms merge because she can no longer deny how the walls are closing in. Don’t expect the uplift of Les Misérables when the suffering of the common person must face the music.
Leviathan, Starz (and rental)
You knew there couldn’t just be one Russian movie on this list, right? Andrey Zvyagintsev has made more unpleasant movies since Leviathan, but none land with quite the impact as this novelistic tale of a common man fighting back against an unfair seizure of his coastal property by the government. With echoes of Job and parallels to Putin, this Dostoevskyian drama is a brutal indictment of institutional rot in his country.
Requiem for a Dream, MUBI (and free with ads on Tubi)
Darren Aronofsky’s nightmare of four lives torn asunder by drug addiction might as well be “Scared Straight: The Movie.” There is an image of Ellen Burstyn, who plays a sweet housewife who unintentionally gets addicted to speed in a bid to lose weight for a hypothetical gameshow appearance, under duress that still haunts me to this day. I watched Requiem for a Dream from a grainy DVR recording before my parents were particularly comfortable with me watching something this adult. But, ironically, it’s the thing that did the most to ensure I’d never get involved with hard drugs.
The Snowtown Murders, Tubi (free with ads)
People really just consume true crime stories with such startling frequency that I have to wonder if we’re not losing sight of the savagery often at their core. There’s no such illusion in Justin Kurzel’s stomach-churning The Snowtown Murders, which depicts how a young boy gets drawn into a world of violence. He’s in the thrall of a sociopathic murderer, whose trail of bodies Kurzel depicts in bloody, graphic detail. The film forces us to confront how killers can be both charismatic and catastrophic without compartmentalizing either aspect, making it all the more blistering to watch.
The White Ribbon, MUBI (and rental)
Think how often stories use children as a sign of renewal or hope for the future, and then toss that all out the window in Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon. This tale of how the seeds of fascism flourish in a small German village has no hope that the youth will be our salvation. Instead, they can cultivate pure and unadulterated evil by committing cruel acts of terror that penetrate the psyche of a people. Nazis had to come from somewhere, after all! The film’s calm, tranquil pace belies a core of deep, brooding menace.
You can always keep up with my film-watching in real-time on the app Letterboxd. I’ve also compiled every movie I’ve ever recommended through this newsletter via a list on the platform as well.
If you want to experience a fool-proof way to puff up your chest by about 2 inches, might I recommend walking around New York City to the soundtrack of Succession?
As someone fond of big dissections of actors as auteurs (see my own of Sandra Bullock and Matt Damon), I enjoyed this New York Times analysis of Gerard Butler and his “campy masculine pleasures” — even as I could not tell you the last Gerard Butler movie I’ve seen. Accepting recommendations, though!
If you’ve ever wondered about the people who curate repertory movie screenings, I found this interview with Metrograph’s head programmer Inge de Leeuw quite fascinating.
I’ll have several stories all publishing tomorrow, of course. So for now, enjoy that my Decider best of HBO Max list is now just … the 50 best movies on Max.
You can keep track of all the freelance writing I’ve done this year through this list on Letterboxd.
Back to subscribers to spread the gospel of Nicole Holofcener this weekend!
Yours in service and cinema,
Marshall
Being occasionally depressed is a sign of sanity in this challenging world. I learned early on that indulging in depressing art (music, reading, movies) often has an ironic result of cheering me up.