MOVIE DIARY 2023: STOP CRYING. LOOK AT ME. PEOPLE ONLY DIE OF LOVE IN MOVIES.

Hello! We’re getting close to the finish line this year, but don’t worry—MOVIE DIARY 2023 is still bringing the heat. Speaking of heat, today we’ve got writer, editor, and Street Fighter aficionado David Brothers returning to MOVIE DIARY!

Blackhat (2015) - dir. Michael Mann
SPECIAL GUEST WRITER: DAVID BROTHERS

Okay, back in September before Twitter fully died (or whatever), I saw someone mention that the new 4K disc of BLACKHAT (2015) was being delayed in order to include a director's cut that Michael Mann pieced together a while after the original release. I saw BLACKHAT in the theater back in the day and remembered liking it, though I didn't retain a lot of details from it. The strongest images were Viola Davis blinking while laying flat in one scene, some cool computer stuff (notable I usually don't like hacking scenes; they lean toward exposition too much for me), and a really surprising explosion. The new 4K disc sounded like a great way to check the movie out again, with the added bonus of seeing this new cut. You can check out the specific changes between cuts here if you want to see the mechanics of it all. For me, watching the US and director's cut versions a day or so apart ended up being a really nice experience, and one that really activated the "I've got to talk to someone about all this stuff" part of my brain. Movie Diary! Let's do it.

The highlight of the US version came shortly after the love scene between Chris Hemsworth's Hathaway and Tang Wei's Chen Lien. Shortly after escaping from a tense situation and entirely blowing their cover, Lien and Hathaway do the old "long gaze, sudden kiss, mostly clothed sex" bit. After they finish making out, there's a cut to a post-coital conversation. We see Hemsworth draped in a blanket, his back to the headboard as he sits up straight. He explains that he was raised by a single father, a steel worker who died while Hathaway was in prison.

I was struck by the intimacy of that moment, what the juxtaposition of lust, relief, and grief said about the characters in that moment. Their connection had deepened quickly, almost in an instant. What I saw was a kind of intimacy that makes me a little uncomfortable, in that I tried to remember if I'd ever been at that level with someone in a similar situation, and that feeling defined a fair amount of the rest of the movie for me. Hathaway comes off a normal amount of desperate for normalcy, and Lien was previously introduced as valuing her independence and own achievements. They fit together like a puzzle piece, which made the later events—a race to safety, a sprint toward revenge, the usual—feel very tense. I got invested in the melodrama of it all, and while their relationship felt a little bit cliché, I enjoyed the execution of it in the midst of the global crisis they were navigating.

Even her brother Chen Dawei's reaction was a nice twist on an old bit. Rather than a generic "brother angry that his best friend is dating his sister" scene, actor Leehom Wang plays it as worry about what would happen if their shared gambit to get Hathaway out of prison fails, leaving her with a partner facing nine more years inside at best. The fact that the two of them love each other isn't a question for him, but the outcome of that love hinges greatly on the job at hand, which is worrying. It's suddenly a must-win/must-win scenario for everyone.

The BLACKHAT director's cut, for lack of a better phrase, is the one where everyone feels like they know how to do their job, rather than running around feeling things. The US version starts with a meltdown at a nuclear reactor, progresses to a stock market heist, and then to the ending sequence. The director's cut builds from the stock market heist to the meltdown instead, a big change with a great effect. The urgency and stress of the nuclear disaster is channeled into the final chase and revenge scene, rather than left to weirdly dissipate over the course of the movie.

The bedroom conversation is cut entirely. That was a small worry, that Mann would cut every scene I specifically liked, but looking at the different effect of the director's cut in the end, I can't blame him. The director's cut is a lot of fun, and feels like it focuses way more on putting the characters in their element and letting them work than explaining to the audience exactly how they should feel. It's nice to watch people at work, doing what they do best.

We don't get to see Hemsworth demonstrating how tough he is and the friends he made in prison, which already felt like a small-time version of a similar action scene from THE RAID 2. "Ooh, here's our hero, isn't he big and strong?" He's Chris Hemsworth between THORs, we can fairly assume that the big guy can handle himself like a big guy. In addition to the bedroom confession being cut, so is a "No, duh" moment where the good guys have a brain wave and realize they should check for soy sellers instead of soy buyers. There's a pretty cliché feint toward the end of the US version that anyone could have seen coming that's gone, too. There are these little tiny moments where people state the obvious or do something a little too clearly beneath their expertise that have been snipped out, and the resulting movie is one that's basically as good as the US version, but in different ways.

The reordered scenes and tighter focus definitely give the director's cut a more pleasant progression than the US version, and what remains of the love subplot is perfectly fine, I think. The US version's choices linked intimacy, grief, and trust in a really open and sometimes bracing way to me, from the relationship between Hathaway and Lien to the clearly deep friendship between Hathaway and Dawei to a small bonding moment between Viola Davis as FBI Special Agent Carol Barrett and Holt McCallany (hall of fame cop-lookin' guy, very believable) as Deputy United States Marshal Jessup.

Once recognized, the cast's feelings are taken as real by everyone else, and treated as a reliable indicator of mutual reliability. Once those five central characters—Hathaway, Chen Lien, Chen Dawei, Carol Barrett, Jessup—trust each other, anything goes in pursuit of the job. Barrett reveals the existence of secret FBI magic computer technology and enables Hathaway to steal it, including defrauding her boss. Dawei pleads his case in front of his bosses, and when that fails, he texts his sister the most obvious secret code for "get out, my boss is trash" I've ever seen in my life. At one point, stone-faced Jessup explains his actions by saying that his bosses didn't see the nuclear power plant that they just witnessed meltdown, the type of talk you usually hear from stereotypical action movie heroes invoking their dead families or the 9/11 attacks to go off and do war crimes. When a loser boss character brings up 9/11 in the usual way, Barrett reminds him that he didn't lose anyone personally in a way that sounded a lot like "Shut up, idiot." Later, Jessup politely and gently inquires about Barrett's loss in a way that people looking to help shoulder a mutual burden they're carrying sometimes do.

The clichés are tuned to right and wrong instead of nationalism or genre demands. General intimacy as a sign of trust is all over BLACKHAT, but not in a transactional or "Well, we didn't cast two hot actors for nothing" way of some movies. Mann is triggering a lot of storytelling flags that we've seen a bunch of times, but tempering the desperation of "We can't lose!" with a very satisfyingly professional trust between myriad types of workers. Any job's not done until everyone's done their part, and by the middle of BLACKHAT, it feels like everyone knows that they can trust their team members to not just come through, but to play fair and honorably. They don't have to say the theme of the movie aloud or give a little speech about it so the audience gets it. The revelations and reactions are sitting there for me to notice and appreciate. Mann trusts us to follow the trail.

To be clear, the director's cut doesn't lack for intimacy, not by any means. It's just a lot more subtle about it than the US version. At the same time, the US version has kind of a more blockbuster-y feel than the director's cut thanks to its slightly more cliché choices, but still has that core of trust and intimacy running screaming down its halls. BLACKHAT is an interesting tangle, and I'm glad that both versions gave me a lot to chew on.

I also watched THIEF for the first time the night before doing the US version of BLACKHAT. It was nice seeing nascent Mann in something of a double feature with the more refined Mann of 2015. There are a ton of little bits and pieces that overlapped nicely, especially men and women eating food while the man talks about how screwed up his life is and basically everything with cars or reflections. I think it helped me approach BLACKHAT with a different kind of open mind, too. It was less, "Okay, let's see if I remember any of this" and more, "Okay, let's see what he's been doing differently since THIEF." I was only half-surprised to see the answer was "playing me like a fiddle, that's what."

(I didn't watch the International version of BLACKHAT on the disc. It's probably fine.)

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David Brothers plays Street Fighter 6 in Oakland, California, where he also edits manga and writes essays about whatever catches his eye. Check him out at http://iamdavidbrothers.com.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Les Parapluies de Cherbourg) (1964) - Jacques Demy

A really pretty movie, but I think for me it lacked a certain punch that I was hoping for. Still had a fun time watching it, and I kind of think the ending redeems all of its problems. It’s the kind of musical where there aren’t any big flashy routines, but every line is sung (I’m pretty sure there’s a word for this, but MOVIE DIARY 2023 has never been about “looking things up,” sorry*), and I always think that’s both impressive and slightly grating. I didn’t even really think it was grating watching everyone sing in French with this movie. Maybe that’s a testament to the strength of the romance in this movie, maybe it’s because it was in French—either way, singing every line of this movie lent it an interesting rhythm that carries you through it.

Geneviève, and umbrella shopgirl, and Guy, a mechanic, are a young couple who are madly in love, and all they want to do is get married, start a family, and open up their own gas station in the countryside. What could go wrong? The beginning of the movie is filled with a lot of sweeping romance, and it feels a bit saccharine, but it’s easy to ignore that because it’s so delightful to get caught up in Geneviève and Guy’s orbit. The sets are beautiful and vibrant. Incredible bright colors, some really gorgeous wallpaper patterns, even the damp back alleys look like an aesthetic influencer backdrop. It’s just great to look at! The city is so beautiful! Everyone is singing! How could you not fall in love with a mechanic here?? How could you not think the girl who works at the umbrella shop is the most beautiful woman in the world??

Things take a turn for the worse when Guy gets drafted to fight for the French in the Algerian war, forcing him and Geneviève to be apart for two years. When you’re young and in love, being apart for two years feels like a death sentence, even more so when one of you is being sent to fight (and probably die!) on the wrong side of a war. And on top of that Geneviève is pregnant with Guy’s baby! ZUT ALORS! We never see Guy while he’s away, we just get glimpses of the sparse letters that Guy is able to send to Geneviève, and that sparse communication is weighing on her. This is where her mother steps in and she really starts pushing Geneviève to see Roland Cossart, an eager suitor who’s been waiting in the wings. It’s actually pretty gutting watching Geneviève get worn down as her mother eventually convinces her to think practically. Roland has money, he can take care of Geneviève, and he doesn’t seem to care that she’s pregnant with another man’s baby. It makes sense except for the fact that he’s not a dreamy mechanic and she’s definitely not in love with him the way she is with Guy. With no new letters from Guy, Geneviève gives in and marries the perfectly whatever Roland, leaving Cherbourg and Guy (possibly RIP) behind.

And wouldn’t you know it, Guy returns from the war and he sees that the umbrella shop is closed and Geneviève is gone. He soon learns about her marriage, and it sends him spiraling down a dark path. He’s boozing, he’s showing up late and being rude to his clients and his boss at his job, he’s hitting up brothels. He hooks up with a prostitute named Jen and after they fuck, she says to come back anytime, and oh by the way my name’s not actually Jen, you can call me Geneviève. ZUT ALORS! He’s in a bad way, and then he finds out that his aunt whom he’s been caring for has suddenly died. Madeleine, the neighbor who’s been helping Guy take care of his aunt, breaks the news to him and she’s there to comfort him and help him pick up the pieces. Guy soon realizes that Madeleine has loved him all along, and now that Geneviève is out of the picture, maybe they should get married. Sure. Honestly, she seems nice, I’m happy for them.

Four years pass, and we see Guy and Madeleine happily married. They’ve got a son, François, they’re running a gas station and garage in Cherbourg, it’s a beautiful snowy night. Madeleine takes their kid away to go visit Santa, and after they leave, a car pulls up to the station. It’s Geneviève and her (and Guy’s) daughter! ZUT ALLORS! They haven’t seen each other, haven’t heard from each other in years. Geneviève is apparently rich now. She’s in Cherbourg for the first time since she and Roland got married. These two, once madly and desperately in love with each other, now are just making polite small talk after not seeing each other for six years. There’s a deep sense of restraint that you can see from the both of them. They both have so much they really want to say to each other, but what would be the point? They both have their own lives now, away from each other. Geneviève asks if Guy would like to meet his daughter, AND HE SAYS NO. BRUTAL! Geneviève walks away with one last meaningful glance toward Guy before she drives off, possibly forever. If I were her, I know I’m definitely getting gas elsewhere next time I’m in Cherbourg. Shortly after, Madeleine and François return. Guy embraces them and they play in the snow like a happy family without a care in the world, as if they were never visited by a single ghost of their past, nor will they ever be.

That ending was maybe the most interesting part of this movie to me. The entire thing up to this point was sing-songy melodrama, which is totally fine and enjoyable, but the ending takes a hard turn into a type of emotional regret that I wasn’t expecting from a sing-songy melodrama. I also like that their feelings at the end of the movie are ambiguous. Geneviève looks back before she leaves, but is it a look of regret? Or is it her finally saying goodbye and finally closing the door on her memories of Guy? Guy refuses to meet his daughter, politely sends Geneviève on her way, and then frolics in the snow with his family, but surely he’s keeping whatever painful emotions he’s feeling about just seeing Geneviève again tamped down deep inside. How could he not? Either way, both Geneviève and Guy recognize that their lives now are apart from each other. But are they happy? I kind of feel like they are both learning to be happy in their own lives, and they’re learning that happiness can take on many different shapes—hopefully the same way they’re learning that love can come from something besides the sort of desperately irresistible kind of head over heels love they felt for each other years ago. The sort of emotional ambiguity to this ending made it all feel more painful and poignant.

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*Ok ok I looked it up, it’s called a “sung-through” or “through-composed” musical.

Fallen Leaves (2023) - dir. Aki Kaurismäki

I absolutely loved this movie. I’d never seen any of Kaurismäki’s movies, and I didn’t really read or see anything about Fallen Leaves before stepping into the theater, so it was a really great surprise. It was also kind of interesting watching this one after The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Cherbourg is a sweeping romance in a beautiful, classic setting, while Fallen Leaves is a neat counterpoint. A very funny, sort of stilted, stop-and-start working class romance set against the backdrop of our shitty modern times.

Fallen Leaves follows Ansa, a woman struggling to make ends meet after getting fired from her job at the grocery, and Holappa, an alcoholic construction worker struggling to find anything better than getting absolutely wasted every night. The two meet by chance at a karaoke night, when Holappa’s friend tries to hit on Ansa’s friend, but they don’t really say much to each other. They see each other again outside of the bar that Ansa has been working at, just as Ansa’s boss is being arrested and taken away for some unspecified shady activities. The boss shouts to Ansa that the bar will be closed so she shouldn’t show up to work for a few weeks. Holappa asks Ansa if she wants to get a coffee, then later they go out to see a movie (hilariously, it’s The Dead Don’t Die (2019), and there’s this great bit after they walk out where some movie goers are talking about how it reminds them of Bande à part (1964)). The two stay to chat outside the theater for a bit, and Holappa tells her he wants to see her again, but he doesn’t even know her name. Ansa tells him that she’ll tell him her name when they see each other again, and she writes down her phone number for him. The two part, but Holappa accidentally drops the piece of paper with her number on it, which is just the first of many inconvenient and frustrating and stupid and tragic stumbling blocks to their budding courtship.

The movie has a very European deadpan sense of humor to it, the kind of humor that you can only get from people who are extremely serious. To be honest, I did sometimes have trouble figuring out if this was funny or if it was just how Finnish people are, but I think that just sort of added to the humor for me. (To clarify: I think everything that was funny in this movie is funny on purpose, I just personally have a hard time telling if a European person is being serious or if they’re making fun of me, but this is my cross to bear, thank you for listening.) It’s the kind of humor that feels like it comes from a place where the people really must find a way to laugh because everything else in the world is so awful. I think that kind of gets to the heart of what I really liked about this movie: everything good that happens—the humor, the romance—happens in spite of the awful circumstances and all the dumb and unfortunate things that life can throw at Ansa and Holappa. To underscore this, throughout the movie we are reminded of the terrible state of the world at large. We keep hearing snippets of news on the radio of the war between Russia and Ukraine. Our characters can only listen to so much of it before they have to switch stations, unable to process any more of this awful news. We see the shitty financial situations that our characters are stuck in. Ansa is fired from her job at the grocery for taking home expired food that was going to be tossed out anyway, she has to bounce from job to job to pay rent, when she sees her electricity bill she turns off all the power to her apartment and just sits in the dark. Holappa gets injured during a construction job and he can’t work for a while, but he won’t receive any compensation because investigators found out that he was drinking on the job. Things are dire! But still humor and romance find a way to develop because people need that in their lives!

I think one thing I really enjoyed about this movie was how these dire circumstances aren’t being presented in a kind of liberal poverty porn sort of way. The desperate circumstances are just facts of life for Ansa and Holappa, but they’re able to find their own happiness and do something nice for themselves. One of my favorite moments was the scene where Ansa and Holappa are getting ready for a dinner date at Ansa’s apartment. Holappa finally found Ansa after losing her number and not knowing her name by spending a few nights chain smoking outside the movie theater where they’d hung out before, so Ansa invites him to come over for dinner one night. There’s a little montage of the two of them getting ready for their date. Holappa puts on his best (read: only) jacket and buys a cheap bouquet of flowers on the way to Ansa’s place. Ansa goes out shopping for one extra plate and a set of utensils for Holappa. She lives on her own, and she doesn’t really spend a lot of time with other people, so you can tell getting an extra plate and utensils is kind of a big thing for her. I think it’s just a sweet moment, seeing these two doing what they can to make it work because they are enamored with each other. Both of them seem like they tend to prefer being alone, so you understand that finding a person that they want to spend time with and who wants to spend time with them is a pretty big deal. It’s just wonderful seeing how meaningful this is to both of them. They don’t have the money or the proclivity for grand gestures or big romantic speeches, but they’re doing what they can to make it work because there’s love there.

I think when I think of romance in movies, particularly with romantic comedies, I think there’s a formula to them, and romance is usually presented in a certain way because if it’s done right, this formula always hits. There’s an initial contact (sometimes this is attraction, other times it’s revulsion), attraction builds, then there’s a stretch of adversity that puts the romance in jeopardy, then that obstacle is overcome and there’s a big pronouncement of love and a big kiss and we love it because we’ve bought into it. Fallen Leaves sometimes feels like a type of romantic comedy, but one that doesn’t really follow the formula that I recognize from American romantic comedies. For Fallen Leaves the stretch of adversity that puts the romance in jeopardy stretches throughout the movie because the adversity is largely just circumstance and life, and it’s never neatly wrapped up because life is never really neatly wrapped up. There are so many obstacles to Ansa and Holappa’s courtship, and most of the time it’s just life and chance coming at them, but they fight through it because they like each other and they can tell that this person is special to them. Even when they think they’ve written each other off, life throws them back into each other’s orbit and they try and try again. Fallen Leaves shows love as something that doesn’t boil down to one moment or a grand proclamation. Instead, love is shown as an act of persistence, something that takes time and effort and care if you want to see it grow. It’s something that’s funny and beautiful and it’s moving to see it develop, especially when the awful circumstances of life keep insisting on getting in the way.

The third part of the blog, where I plug the MOVIE DIARY 2023 Discord

That’s another MOVIE DIARY 2023 in the books! Big thanks to David for coming back and joining in once again! I’m currently planning out my end of year poll, and I’ve been getting a lot of great responses from the MOVIE DIARY 2023 community. If you want to get in on the end of year poll, join up with the MOVIE DIARY 2023 Discord and check it out. I’ve got some more info on there.

For those of you who have already sent in your end of year picks, thank you so much! I’ve been loving reading them, and I’m excited to get it all collected and to figure out how to put it all on here. For those of you who haven’t sent me your picks, no sweat! You’ve still got time (due date is 12/29), and I’m looking forward to reading yours!

That’s all for now! I’ll see you next time! Maybe on Thursday? We’ll see. I don’t want to over commit, there’s a lot going on at this time of year. See you soon!