Without the focus on the heroic efforts of a small group of European and American expatriates, Nanking the film would be a near unbearable experience. The Nanking Massacre, or The Rape of Nanking as it's widely referred to, took place over a 6 week period in 1937. The Chinese capital city was invaded by Japanese troops, resulting in 200,000 (or more depending on varying estimates) innocent people raped and slaughtered. Tales of civilians being forced to have sex with corpses or family members, unborn foetus's being cut out of their mother's belly with bayonet's, or the gang-rape of small girls and boys are all confirmed here. But Nanking achieves its power not through shocking and repulsing but by showing the triumph of the human spirit in the face of hell on Earth.
Although plenty of archival footage is used - from the beautiful, pulsating Nanking sitting proudly as China's capital, to it's destruction through heavy bombing - a bulk of the film consists of readings by actors of diary entries written by the likes of Nazi party member John Rabe and American missionary Minnie Vautrin. Rabe and Vautrin were part of a small, wealthy group of men and women who decided against fleeing Naking, and set up a 'Safety Zone' inside the city. The actors, including the likes of Jurgen Prochnow, Mariel Hemingway, Woody Harrelson and Stephen Dorff, are earnest and understated in their delivery, and this helps give these moments an urgency, when it could have come off as trying to add some Hollywood gloss to a devastating event.
The Japanese agreed to the implementation of the safety zone, but their soldiers would parade the grounds, raping women at will and dragging men off to be executed on mass for being suspected enemy soldiers. Still, the protection offered by Rabe, Vautrin, Bob Wilson et al is estimated at being responsible for the survival of 200,000 Chinese lives. This is hard stuff to watch, one of the most despicable war crimes ever committed - interviews with Chinese survivors and seemingly remorseless and disconnected Japanese soldiers hit particularly hard - but this is essential viewing, proving that in order to move forward, we must look back.
Cult director John Waters has always been a favourite amongst those familiar with the 'Midnight Movie' circuit. The Midnight Movies were a bunch of films that included David Lynch's Eraserhead (1977), Alejandro Jodorowsky's El Topo (1970), and Waters' own Pink Flamingos (1972), that were screened in New York in the 1970's to an audience looking for an artistic vision that tended to push the boundaries of taste and subject matter, and led to re-discoveries of films now considered classics such as Freaks (1932) and Night of the Living Dead (1968). Waters, as well as championing the great auteurs such as Pasolini and Fassbinder, was always an outspoken fan of zero-budget schlock like Criminally Insane (1975) and the work of Herschell Gordon Lewis. And this is the focus of Cecil B. Demented, a movie essentially for cinephiles, and one that has the movie business as a whole fixed in its sights.
Hollywood starlet Honey Whitlock (Melanie Griffith) is on the verge of another smash hit when she attends the premiere in Baltimore. In front of a shocked audience and many cameras, she is kidnapped by psychopathic film director Cecil B. Demented (Stephen Dorff). Demented takes Honey back to his studio, where his loyal crew, calling themselves the Sprocket Holes, have a vision to take cinema back for the auteurs, and crush the studio system (who are in production of Forrest Gump 2). Honey is to be the star in the first of a new movement - Outlaw Cinema - a process that strips back all production values in favour of achieving ultimate reality. They have also taken a vow of chaste, and will not have sex until the movie is done. Seeing opinion of her drastically slide on television, Honey starts to sympathise with Demented's movement, and eventually she wilfully comes over to the cause.
It can be said that true satire cuts both ways, and that is certainly what Waters achieves with this. As an obsessive movie fan myself, there's many a time when I've been eager to tear down the poster of a new Zac Efron movie or punch someone in the face when they've describe how much they love Marley & Me (2008). I sometimes want to scream about how much they're missing through ignorance and that it's their fault so much shit gets made. But there's times when I've looked back at my own pretentiousness and felt embarrassed at criticising someone who ultimately wants something entirely different out of cinema than I do. Demented's bunch of misfits are nothing more than dysfunctional psychopaths; cartoon cut-outs that are too extreme to not laugh at. Waters seems to be amused more by these scarf-wearing chin-strokers than by those who inadvertently fund the studio system.
Although a lot doesn't really work in Cecil B. Demented, I still got a lot out of it. This is mainly due to the fact that I share a lot of Waters' opinions, and can get as much enjoyment out of a tacky old Larry Cohen or Herschell Gordon Lewis horror as I could with something from Godard or Bunuel. Occasionally the bad taste humour doesn't go down so well, such as the sloppy penetration sounds when the gang can finally get down to it, or the rather silly 'Demented Forever' sing-a-long, but Stephen Dorff's wide-eyed, energetic performance managed to be a nice distraction. Demented could be seen as an answer to many of Waters' fans objections to his occasional dabbling with the mainstream, with his colourful efforts Hairspray (1988) and (the very enjoyable) Serial Mom (1994) playing in direct contrast to Pink Flamingos, which infamously contains a scene of dog-shit eating. But this is a criticism and a homage to the movies, something that all cinephiles can understand.
Perhaps a comment on celebrity culture, and particularly the intangible gloss as presented by celebrity gossip magazines and television shows, Sofia Coppola has produced a sombre, sparse and vapid portrait of a movie star, Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff), focusing initially on his vacuous life of parties, women and strange and sycophantic encounters with the media and empty women who probably make a career out of shagging celebrities. The only problem with the character initially is that he is blissfully unaware at how empty his life truly is. That is until his ex-wife informs him that she has to go away, and has to leave their daughter, Clio (Elle Fanning), in the responsibility of him.
The films early scenes function is to present Marco in almost exclusive isolation. He is visited by women, including twins who seem to visit him for a pole-dancing act. He is constantly framed alone, in regular protracted shots: in one he is left seated upright with Plaster-of-Paris covering his head (he is having a cast made for a movie role), the camera slowly pans in, his breathing (through nose only) becoming the only audio, as it increases in intensity.
The time spent with his daughter becomes a clearly revolutionary event in the mans life, and he becomes increasingly dependant on the company. This is not in any way the best that Coppola has produced in her (so far) good directing career. The fact that she grew up with a famous father more than likely gives this film some realism. However, it seems to me to be a bit pretentious. Are we really supposed to care about this guy? Perhaps the Coppola woman should try living a regular life, and perhaps produce a film that doesn't centre on privilege.
Although plenty of archival footage is used - from the beautiful, pulsating Nanking sitting proudly as China's capital, to it's destruction through heavy bombing - a bulk of the film consists of readings by actors of diary entries written by the likes of Nazi party member John Rabe and American missionary Minnie Vautrin. Rabe and Vautrin were part of a small, wealthy group of men and women who decided against fleeing Naking, and set up a 'Safety Zone' inside the city. The actors, including the likes of Jurgen Prochnow, Mariel Hemingway, Woody Harrelson and Stephen Dorff, are earnest and understated in their delivery, and this helps give these moments an urgency, when it could have come off as trying to add some Hollywood gloss to a devastating event.
