Artist of the Year 2024: Peter Weir
Incredible Floridas 1972
When at the symphony, I sometimes struggle to calm my mind, or give myself something to visually focus on. Here, Weir decorates the music with images, distracting me just enough to counter-intuitively highlight Meale’s composition.
Whatever Happened To Green Valley? 1974
I’m reminded of the expression of “affectionate proximity” in an essay within Capitalism and the Camera. While the home movies aren’t necessarily any more truthful than those made by outsiders, they grant subjecthood to the former objects of discussion. They’re valuable, if only for that.
The Cars That Ate Paris 1974
There’s a “leopards eating people’s faces” angle to this that I like. A village that survives on the vehicular murder and pillage of strangers empowers an especially violent subset that ultimately destroys that same society and their veneer of alleged civility.
The Truman Show 1998
My first Artist of the Year viewing to occur in a theater!
A rewatch so temporally removed from my first viewing that it’s effectively brand new. I don’t know what child me got out of see this, but now, as an adult, the unsettling layering of performance(s), and the image of a turned-away Carrey muttering “you didn’t have a camera in my head” are unshakeable.
The Last Wave 1977
Despite the good intentions indicated in the commentary, and the implicit sign-off of the aboriginal actors, I’m still somewhat uncomfortable about the focal whiteness of this. There’s a particular kind of white fantasy of being a member of the other, despite appearances (in this case, being a spiritual being). This is further amplified by the lead actor’s purported Native American heritage.
The Plumber 1979
Ultimately, I didn’t get a lot out of this. But the film seems to be a good example of the fraught nature of message delivery by film. There are a not insignificant number of reviews that, rather than reading the film as being critical of Jill’s behavior, instead endorse it. That all of the other characters are “gaslighting” her when they claim that the plumber is actually a nice guy. That Jill’s framing him is righteous.
The movie isn’t terribly subtle about Jill’s disconnection from both the poor and non-white people, and it doesn’t take much to connect the dots between that and her paranoia. Identification is strong.
