Over and over and over again 🌻

Stuck on replay.

Thank you, thank you to everyone who has subscribed so far. As the seasons are beginning to change and we move into Spring, we thought we’d switch things up a bit.

Curator and producer Thea Berry has taken over the March edition reflecting on the films that she’s returned to over the past year which have provided a much needed source of comfort.

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When everything shut down last March, I told myself that I had been given the gift of time and that I had no excuse to not make my way through the enormous list of classic films that I hadn’t touched. I had a stack of Pedro Costa and Béla Tarr DVDs to get through, as well. Time to seize the day!

So, I started making my way through watching them and I did pretty well, watching two or three films a day. But after weeks of watching I stopped. I’m not entirely sure why. I think part of it is that I simply ran out of steam; I was no longer meaningfully connecting with what I was watching, I was mindlessly consuming. The other part is that I rediscovered the joy and comfort of re-watching films. I wrapped myself in a fuzzy blanket of old favourites - Moonstruck, Howl’s Moving Castle, When Harry Met Sally, 9 to 5, Sister Act, The Triplets of Belleville, Goodfellas - happy in the knowledge that I knew exactly where I was going, how I was going to get there and loving every minute of it.

But there are few films from that OG To Watch List that have crossed over to my comfort viewing and I have continued to re-watch. Over and over and over again. 

The first is Agnes Varda’s Le Bonheur. Making my way through Varda’s back catalogue was on my list (yes, I realise that as a former French film student this is pretty shameful, but pls don’t judge), so off I went. If you haven’t seen Le Bonheur, it’s about a happily married man who has an affair with a local postal worker and the effect that his ignorant romantic bliss has on his wife and family.

When I first saw this one rainy afternoon last April, I was hypnotised by the gorgeous warmth of the sunflowers, seduced by the cinematography and the colourful clothing and the familiarity of the French countryside. But by the end of it I was annoyed, angry, sad and ultimately sort of confused. I didn’t know how to feel about it. So I put it on again a week later; and then months passed and I put it on again and then again. I think I must have re-watched it about 6 times over the past year and each time I watched it I felt all those familiar feelings and also got something new from it each time. It’s so wonderfully complex and much darker than it aesthetically seems to be. 

👀 Available to rent from Amazon Prime for £2.49

The second is John Waters’ Serial Mom, which had been on my list for a loooooooong time. I’ve always been a big fan of John Waters and sitting down last year to read his book Mr. Know-It-All: The Tarnished Wisdom of a Filth Elder was a real treat. It felt as if I were listening to an old friend tell me the dirtiest, juiciest and most compellingly borderline offensive stories over a series of martinis - if you haven’t read it then you absolutely MUST. It’s also just super fascinating reading about how he moved from making films underground and into the mainstream while still maintaining that level of subversion. So, after reading his stories about the making of Serial Mom and working with Kathleen Turner - a woman who had been branded as ‘difficult to work with’ - I made the ultimate commitment and bought the DVD.

American suburbia really creeps me out and watching Kathleen Turner play a housewife who discovers she has a taste for murder after running over one of her son’s teachers confirmed my suspicions. And I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get around to watching this because it is just so good. It’s dark, gross, dirty and hilarious; everything you want from John Waters. I’m sure I’ve watched it at least 4 or 5 times this year. My loud cackle gets to make an appearance every time I watch it, which hasn’t been happening much of late, so I’m grateful for that. 

👀 While it was once available on the BFI player, it sadly no longer is, so you’ll either have to buy the DVD or, if you live in Bristol, you can rent it from 20th Century Flicks.

And finally, is Hirokazu Kore-eda's Our Little Sister. Being British, I naturally have a banal obsession with the weather. Watching any of Kore-eda’s back catalogue allows me to dive headfirst into this; revelling in how he observes wind, rain, sunshine, dark clouds and clear skies. And when I want laughter, sadness, warmth, shock - not necessarily in that order - I know I’ll get that from his work in some way. What I love so much about Our Little Sister is that it has all of those things. Following the lives of four sisters throughout the four seasons, it’s a beautifully simple story of a family and sisterhood. It basks in everyday pleasures: long walks, cooking, bike rides and conversation. It’s a film that makes me smile and cry and I love it for that. Although, to be honest, the same goes for pretty much any of his films.

👀 Available to rent on Amazon Prime for £3.49. 

These provide me with comfort as well as giving me something new each time I watch them. Whether that be a line of dialogue, the soundtrack, a particular shot, camera movement or a facial expression, even. There’s always something to discover as well as happily embracing familiarity. 

And if you’re wondering, yes, that stack of Pedro Costa and Béla Tarr DVDs are still sitting there untouched. Judging me. One day I’ll get round to it but for now, I’m going to watch Robin Hood Prince of Thieves for the 15th time.

What are you gonna watch?