'Talk Cinema' Gives Cinephiles a Place to Meet

Every few weeks a group of about 60 film lovers gather at 9:30 on a Sunday morning in the lobby of the Albany Twin on Solano Avenue, to sip hot beverages while waiting in anticipation for the day’s mystery movie. It’s a small room and it fills up quickly with people and chatter and the aromas of coffee and tea and bagels. Enthusiastic as the crowd may be, they’re in no hurry to enter the theater; it’s a Sunday morning, after all, and much too early to move at anything but a leisurely pace. So by the time 10 a.m. rolls around they almost have to be cajoled and herded into the theater. 

The group is called Talk Cinema, a movie club with screenings and discussions led by UC Berkeley film lecturer Marilyn Fabe. The series takes place roughly once a month, with Fabe hosting a preview of an as-yet-unreleased film. Once Fabe manages to persuade the gathered throng that it’s time to get started, and after they have scattered throughout the auditorium to their preferred seats, she lets them in on the secret, finally revealing the name of the film they are about to see along with some background information on the production. 

After the closing credits roll and the lights come up, everyone takes a quick break and then gathers toward the front of the theater for a recap of the previous meeting’s film in the form of a reading of selected audience comment cards. Then they’ll delve headlong into what often becomes a wide-ranging discussion on the vices and virtues of the current film.

Arriving for the Nov. 12 screening of The Painted Veil, it seemed as though I may have arrived a couple of weeks too late. The previous screening, on Oct. 29, had been Borat, the Sacha Baron Cohen comedy that would soon generate rave reviews along with a great deal of controversy. The film had sparked a particularly lively discussion with the Talk Cinema group. The Painted Veil, by contrast, didn’t seem to hold as much promise; a period piece about love and marriage in the time of cholera, on the surface, just didn’t seem capable of sparking as much debate as a guerilla comedy about a bigoted journalist from Kazakhstan traversing the United States in search of Pamela Anderson. 

But once the group settled back into their seats an enlightening discussion ensued. 

Reaction to the film was mixed. Some loved it and some hated it, with the rest of us landing at various points between. The result was a discussion that brought both the film’s virtues and failures to light, granting a better appreciation and understanding if not a better liking for the picture. 

Talk Cinema members bring a wide range of knowledge and interest to these discussions. One man was very knowledgeable on Chinese history and provided a brief summary of the circumstances surrounding the cholera epidemic that provides the movie’s backdrop; several other participants shared their intimate knowledge of the works of W. Somerset Maugham, from whose novel the film is adapted; another member shared insights from his background in anthropology, casting doubt on the Chinese burial practices depicted in the film; and another woman offered a thoughtful comparison between the new film and the 1934 version starring Greta Garbo. 

“That’s what I’m trading on,” says Fabe, “all the wonderful, knowledgeable people of Berkeley with their diverse areas of expertise. It’s wonderful to do this sort of thing in a place like this.”

Which is not to say this is a stuffy intellectual group; far from it. These are movie lovers first and foremost. Participants readily admitted their biases, some confessing to an intense dislike for Maugham, others a strong affection. Some were quite taken with the romance of the film, others not so much. Some found the transformation of Naomi Watts’ character compelling while others found it unconvincing. And while some found the background tale of politics and imperialism to be a complex and fascinating milieu, others thought the use of geopolitical struggles as a metaphor for a couple’s evolving relationship a trite device at best.

Yet all opinions were respected and taken seriously. This is not an academic environment; it is more like a book club. 

“People are hungry for this kind of interaction,” says Fabe. “So many people come up to me and say ‘You know, I’ll go out to see a movie with my friends and afterwards they won’t have a thing to say about it. We just go out to dinner and talk about other things as though the movie never happened.’ ”

Talk Cinema was founded by film critic Harlan Jacobson 15 years ago as an attempt to replicate the experience of attending a film festival. Jacobson himself attends festivals around the country and hand-picks films for the series. A few years ago Talk Cinema started a chapter at the Aquarius Theater in Palo Alto and hired Fabe as host and moderator. A couple of years later she persuaded the company to start a Berkeley chapter, allowing Fabe to avoid the commute to the peninsula and simply “roll out of bed and onto Solano Avenue to the Twin” on Sunday mornings. 

While the audience doesn’t know what they’re going to see, Fabe really does her homework, viewing the films in advance whenever possible and doing copious research into each film’s history, reading reviews, interviews and production notes so that she can start off each discussion on solid footing. 

“If you told them what the film was going to be, they might not come, and they’d miss out on a wonderful experience,” Fabe says, citing the example of The Woodsman from a previous season. “They’d say, ‘I don’t want to see a movie about a child molester!’ and they wouldn’t show up and they’d miss out. People always say to me, ‘If I had known what it was I wouldn’t have come, but I’m glad I did.’ ” 

The Berkeley chapter apparently differs from other chapters in its preferences. The Painted Veil, for instance, did very well with other chapters, but Fabe’s group didn’t take to it quite as readily. 

“They don’t like all that Masterpiece Theater kind of stuff,” she says. “They want something a little edgier.” 

According to the Talk Cinema blog, 40 percent of Berkeley members rated The Painted Veil as “excellent” on comment cards submitted after the show, and another 40 percent described it as “good” for an overall positive rating of 80 percent. This compares with Boston and Dallas with positive ratings of 96 and 97 percent. When asked if they would recommend the film, only 65 percent of the Berkeley crowd said yes, compared with other cities in the series that recommended the film at rates of anywhere between 80 percent and 98 percent.

Comment card remarks ranged from grouchy to enthusiastic to silly. “Watching depressed people for two hours is unpleasant no matter how beautiful the scenery,” remarked one. “Illuminated what mature love consists of and how it comes to fruition,” wrote a second. “A celibate Edward Norton, what a waste!” bemoaned a third. A Dallas participant, quoted on the company’s blog, used a pun to register her displeasure: “A regular Maugham & Pop tragedy.”

The Berkeley series has steadily added patrons, but it’s a for-profit business and will likely need to find a consistent audience of more than 100 if it is to survive beyond this season. If the season is a success, Talk Cinema will return to Berkeley for another season in September. The largest chapter, in Philadelphia, regularly seats 400. 

Patrons pay $149 for the 10-film season, but the cost is pro-rated for subscriptions taken out after the season has begun. Day of show admissions are also available for $20 per person.

Talk Cinema

At the Albany Twin, 1115 Solano Ave., Albany. To register, send check or money order to Talk Cinema, PO Box 686 Croton-on-Hudson, NY 10520 or call (800) 551-9221 to subscribe by phone. For more information, see www.talkcinema.com.

The Lubitsch Touch at Pacific Film Archive

Silent film star Mary Pickford famously described director Ernst Lubitsch as a “director of doors,” a man more at home working with the choreography of entrances and exits than with actors and emotions. This acerbic remark, uttered in the awake of an ill-fated collaboration with the director on Rosita, his first American production, has a grain of truth but should be taken with a grain of salt as well.

Pickford was one of the most powerful figures in Hollywood and not inclined to accept a secondary role in a film’s creation. But Lubitsch’s films were not so much vehicles for stars so much as they were vehicles for Lubitsch, for his subtle and distinctive wit, both with images and later with dialogue.

A viewing of Lady Windermere’s Fan (1925) shows the truth behind both sides of the argument. The film shows tonight at Pacific Film Archive as part of a month-long career-spanning retrospective of the director’s work entitled “The Lubitsch Touch.” The series runs through Feb. 16 and tracks the legendary director’s career from his early German silent films to his much-celebrated American comedies of the sound era.

Lady Windermere’s Fan is an adaptation of an Oscar Wilde play that brazenly tosses out the words of Wilde in favor of sly visual humor and cues, replacing Wilde’s verbal wit with Lubitsch’s visual wit. The actors do good work, but clearly the director is in control, for the performances are not inspired but are instead matched meticulously to the staging and camerawork. There’s very little dialogue; most of the information is imparted to us simply through facial expressions, mannerisms and editing.

Many stars appeared in Lubitsch’s films, but Lubitsch himself was the true star of his productions, a noted auteur who guided the performances of his actors down to the smallest detail. Like Chaplin, he acted out each role and instructed his actors to mimic him, and, as with Chaplin again, this at times led to rather stilted performances. The actors were not permitted much leeway in plying their trade. However, the fact that the technique so often found such great results was a testament to Lubitsch’s unique talents.

One scene in particular illustrates Pickford’s dissent perfectly: Lubistch, in order to quickly and comically expresses the increasing intimacy between a couple, gives us two scenes of the suitor approaching the front door of his lady’s apartment. A close-up shows just his hand as he starts to ring the doorbell, things twice, hesitates, pulls out a pocket mirror, replaces it, then rings the bell and politely offers his coat and hat to the maid while waiting to be introduced. A second scene, taking place some weeks later, shows the hand again ringing the bell, this time with no hesitation. The man then walks brusquely through the door and past the maid, hanging his hat and coat without her help before bursting into the lady’s rooms unannounced. All necessary information is conveyed through intertitles, camerawork and editing. The acting is almost superfluous; it’s Lubitsch’s performance through and through.

His technique is not exactly subtle; in fact, Lubitsch’s presence can almost always be felt in his films, and this is a mixed blessing. Just as it is difficult to read Wilde without marveling at his wit, one cannot view a Lubitsch film without being made acutely conscious of the wit and style of the director. At its best it is a seductive technique, one that draws the viewer into an alliance with the director, making one feel as if one is in on the joke, sharing in the sense of superiority toward the objects of that wit; but at times it has a tendency to drain a film of drama and impact, maintaining a cynical distance from characters who are reduced to mere pawns in the director’s cinematic game.

The result is that Lubitsch’s films, though often just as entertaining today as they were in their time, are less art than entertainment, fun for their two-hour span but with little impact beyond the moment the theater lights come up. The “Lubitsch touch,” though deft, is a light touch, one that only lingers playfully amid the more complex, underlying themes of the story, rarely delving deeply into character, motivation or import. He won’t change your life but for two hours he’ll take you for a fun and stylish ride.

Other films in the series include Ninotchka, The Shop Around the Corner, Angel, Heaven Can Wait, Trouble in Paradise, The Marriage Circle, Rosita, The Love Parade and The Smiling Lieutenant. The series runs through Feb. 16. $4-8. 2575 Bancrot Way. 642-5249. www.bampfa.berkeley.edu.

The Painted Veil: A Long Journey Over Rough Terrain

Based on a novel by Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil, opening today at the Albany Twin, tells a mannered and melodramatic tale. The actors are great—Edward Norton and Naomi Watts deliver fine performances as a couple navigating the difficult terrain of both their young marriage and of cholera-ravaged rural China—but it’s just not enough to carry the weight of a burdensome drama.

Watts plays a spoiled and rather petulant young woman who finds herself married, almost against her will, to Norton’s considerate if dull and overly studious young scientist. When her infidelity threatens their fragile marriage he vengefully drags her—over the longest and most arduous route possible—to China, where he is to contribute his knowledge and skill to lessening the impact of a cholera epidemic.

What follows is an intriguing micro/macro staging of themes as the two resist, resent and finally come to respect each other, the drama unfolding against a backdrop of British colonialism in which the two cultures find themselves in precisely the same predicament.

It is a story with great promise and great intentions, but it just doesn’t come off. Aside from the tediously Eurocentric perspective, the trouble is that the enormity of the epidemic, as well as the increasingly relevant themes of Western imperialism and occupation, render the domestic portion of the drama trite and uninteresting. In the context of a never-ending “war on terror” and a disastrous occupation of Iraq, the problems of two little people just don’t amount to a hill of beans, to paraphrase another, more successful geopolitical melodrama. In fact, Casablanca is an instructive example in this case. Michael Curtiz’s 1942 film solved this dilemma by making its characters larger than life and with emotions to match. The Painted Veil by contrast keeps its characters small and thus they are overwhelmed by the international political drama that is intended as their backdrop.

The Maugham novel was written in 1925 as part of the then-popular Westerners Adrift In The Orient genre. Though director John Curran and screenwriter Ron Nyswaner made changes to the story, leavening some of its bleakness with greater understanding between characters and cultures, they curiously retained much of the novel’s chauvinism. While the action concerns cultures getting to know and appreciate one another, the construction of the film itself still sees the Chinese merely as picturesque background material, and indeed much of the understanding the cultures need to come to involves the silly natives simply learning to appreciate the intelligence and integrity of their white savior. Likewise, the domestic plot covers the same ground, with Watt’s selfish young hussy eventually being made to comprehend and bow down to the Great Man that is her husband. Sure, both the husband and Westerners in general are presented as flawed and fallible, but in the end the message is clear: Daddy knows best.

The film hits a few other snags along the way. Too much of Curran’s direction seems borrowed from the Merchant-Ivory playbook of costume drama adaptation, a school of filmmaking capable of reaching great artistic heights but which in lesser hands revels in overwrought staging, with a tendency to lean too heavily on clothing and set design to establish tone.

But the most damning flaw comes in the clichéd final scene, when Watts runs into a former lover on the street. The whole scene is ludicrous, seeking to wrap up the film with one of those ubiquitous bookend sequences that place the protagonist right back where she began. The full-circle conclusion is a valid device of course, but it is frequently abused in so many simplistic mainstream productions, and here it is handled clumsily. The gratuitous encounter only undermines the film’s aspirations toward artistry, confirming the triteness of its design. And to top it off, once she finishes the conversation, Watts turns to walk away while the camera pulls back to over-emphasize the symbolism as she steps across the streetcar tracks, leaving behind a former life and a former self and crossing over to a higher plane.

After two hours of tedium, we’re hard-pressed to care.

The Painted Veil (2007). Directed by John Curran. Written by Ron Nyswaner. Based on the novel by Somerset Maugham. Starring Edward Norton, Naomi Watts and Liev Schreiber. Rated PG-13. 125 minutes.