Track 29 (1988)

In a lot of ways, cinema is all about timing. Nicolas Roeg once contrasted his films with the films of Stephen Speilberg, claiming that Speilberg’s films seem to get released at the perfect time when audiences are clamoring for such materiel whereas Roeg’s films are the complete opposite. Roeg even joked that the title of Don’t Look Now (1973) was an invitation to critics to do just as the title asked, and the title of Bad Timing (1980) was itself a bad omen. While Roeg had a point with his theory, his early films were nonetheless released during a time when such innovative and at times daring films like Roeg’s received wide releases and were subject to plenty of coverage, both positive and negative. Following his instantly legendary co-directorial debut with Donald Cammell, Performance (1970), Roeg would go on to deliver five undisputable masterpieces with Walkabout (1971), Don’t Look Now, The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976), Bad Timing and Eureka (1983), the later of which also seemed to be a victim of bad timing, barley getting a release and later shelved by its own studio. Save for perhaps The Witches (1990), Roeg’s post-Eureka career isn’t nearly as regarded as his 70’s/early 80’s output with certain films being virtually ignored, one of which is 1988’s Track 29, an utterly mental film that’s both psychologically fascinating and riotously entertaining due to its sheer insanity.

Linda Henry (Theresa Russell), a terminally bored housewife stuck in a dead-end marriage to an indifferent, unfaithful and train-obsessed husband, Dr. Henry Henry (Christopher Lloyd), spends her days lounging around the house, turning to the bottle for escape. Linda is soon thrown for a loop when a mysterious Englishman named Martin (Gary Oldman) enters her life, claiming to be her estranged son who was forcefully taken from her shortly after his birth. Having been tormented with grief ever since loosing her son, Linda accepts Martin as her son and attempts to make up for lost time, turning her already volatile situation all the more combustible.  

Track 29 can be a tough nut to crack in that it’s a film of two very opposite moods yet each somehow manages to work in tandem with the other so ultimately the two extremes make sense. On one hand, the film is a heavy psychological profile of a disturbed mind when focusing on Linda’s desperation with her home life and the need for nurturing as well as her constant despairing for a child. Roeg’s trademark flashbacks reveal the traumatic event that led to her child’s conception which make Linda all the more tragic a character, yet Roeg also leaves the exact reason why the child was taken away from Linda somewhat of a mystery which makes for some interesting questions. Roeg also makes a crucial storytelling decision midway through the film which could have been easily fumbled in lesser hands, however Roeg uses the occasion to make Linda’s situation all more fascinating and troubling as well with some none-too-subtle incestuous overtones. Now on the complete opposite end of the spectrum is the films outright zaniness, going off the rails (pun very much intended) with its warped sense of humor, Dr. Henry’s extramarital activities being particularly hysterical, and outrageous performances from all, particularly Oldman who’s demented man-child Martin throws many a histrionic temper-tantrum. Russell proves once again that nobody does “damaged” better than her and Lloyd, in perhaps the films most memorable moment delivers a speech about trains so impassioned its as if a seismic shift is happening within his own personal cosmos.

An interesting thing regarding the film is that it was produced by HandMade Films, the production company founded by ex-Beatle George Harrison who’s given an executive producer credit. Fascinatingly, HandMade also acted as a UK distributor for the slasher classic The Burning (1981) of all films! Given the Beatles connection its no wonder that John Lennon’s “Mother” is heard during the opening credits of the film. In the US the film only pulled $429,028 in ticket sales which might seem strange seeing as it featured someone like Lloyd who was already a household name but at that point was a massive star thanks to the success of Back to the Future (1985) but again, it would appear that timing was not on Roeg’s side given the preferences of mainstream movie going audiences at the time. The film got some curious reviews, most notability from Roger Ebert who, despite giving the film a fairly positive review, claimed the film was “unlikable” and “bad-tempered, kinky and misogynistic” like many of Roeg’s films (in Ebert’s words). Seems to be another case of “misogynistic” being thrown around far to freely as the film could hardly be described as such but it is however a totally unhinged and unforgettable film with go-for-broke performances and a balanced mix of seriousness and frivolity. One of Roeg’s most criminally underrated films and a film with “cult” appeal written all over it.

Doctor Glas (1968)

Its almost a guarantee that the work of an artist who’s ahead of their time won’t receive the attention and respect its due until years after. This is especially true as it relates to the work of Swedish actress turned director Mai Zetterling. Zetterling’s homeland of Sweden was at the forefront of cinema that transgressed and pushed censorship limits in terms of on screen sexuality, but before Vilgot Sjöman caused an uproar with his I am Curious films, Yellow (1967) and Blue (1968), and before the release of the sensational sex education films Language of Love (1969) and Love Play: That's How We Do It (1972) and the Christina Lindberg vehicles Exposed (1971), Anita: Swedish Nymphet (1973) and Wide Open (1974) just to name a few, Zetterling was already breaking taboos left and right, first with Loving Couples (1964) then with Night Games (1966), which sent many a moralist, most famously Shirley Temple, into a frenzy. It wasn’t until the 70’s when festivals dedicated to female directors began popping up did Zetterling’s films finally get their due, however it seems the recognition was short lived as Zetterling’s name still seems to be fairly low-key. Doctor Glas, Zetterling’s follow-up to Night Games and another unfortunately under the radar title, saw Zetterling take her fascination with sexually based neurosis to an even darker place resulting in one of Zetterling’s most challenging and perhaps greatest film.

Repulsed by her husband, Helga Gregorius, the wife of a reverend, makes a desperate plea to her physician Dr. Glas to lie about an illness to her husband in the hopes of it preventing him from taking advantage of, as Helga refers to it, his “marital rights”. Glas, who has long been harboring an obsession with Helga agrees, although the plan fails as Helga is back in his office soon after begging him to talk to her husband again. As Glas’ obsession with Helga intensifies, his grip on reality begins to slip as he becomes more desperate to aid Helga in the hopes of the two becoming lovers, eventually coming to the conclusion that the only way to help Helga is by murdering her husband.

Described by Zetterling as a story about “one man’s battle with himself”, Doctor Glas is a distressing and unusual psychological profile of a sexually frustrated sociopath. Although far from being a fast paced film, Zetterling nonetheless offers little to no breathing room in the sense that right from the opening credits Zetterling transports the audience into the fractured headspace of the titular character and stays there for the remainder of the film. Through voiceovers, Zetterling lets Glas’ disturbed thought process unfold and despite the character being completely unsympathetic, the film is always engrossing in the way Zetterling lets the evolution of Glas’ God complex unfold. The film is also one of Zetterling’s most visually accomplished and inventive with Zetterling crossing over into surreal territory several times via the use of deliberately out of focus imagery and morbid hallucinations representing just how rapid Glas’ grasp on the real world is slipping. Quite often these scenes employ quick cutting techniques and resemble the type of cut-aways Alain Robbe-Grillet would later utilize. Although short, the imagery in these scenes are rather unnerving and at times religious in nature which is another component of the film. Zetterling is none too subtle in her attacks on religious and moral hypocrisy. The most obvious example would be the character of the reverend but more interesting is Glas’ own hypocrisy in his deciding that he must kill the reverend while simultaneously refusing to perform abortions on several of his patients with his reasoning being his profession’s dedication to preserving life.

The film was based on a 1905 novel by Hjalmar Söderberg. In her autobiography All Those Tomorrows, Zetterling writes about immediately being attracted to the material with one passage from the book winning her over, “Why does one hate another human being? People who hate each other usually believe there are such big differences between them. But this isn’t so at all. Rather the opposite - they are so very much alike, always wanting the same thing. A bull hates another bull. He never hates a cockerel.” The film was scheduled to compete in the 1968 Cannes Film Festival however the festival was cancelled as a result of the student riots taking place so how the film would have been received remains a mystery. The film did make it to theaters in the States although it seemed to disappear almost as a fast as it was released. Doctor Glas was also released the same year as Zetterling’s take on Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, The Girls (1968). While The Girls has gone on to become one of Zetterling’s most celebrated titles amongst those who know her films, Doctor Glas remains one of Zetterling’s more elusive films, even with some kind words written about it from longtime Zetterling admirer John Waters. Doctor Glas is an essential film for those interested in Zetterling’s work and especially for those who prefer to traverse the darker realms of human psychosexuality.

Night Games (1966)

History has a funny way of determining what films that were controversial upon their initial release retain their notoriety while others are left to linger in obscurity. The case of Mai Zetterling’s Night Games, easily one of the most controversial films of its day, is particularly perplexing. Zetterling was no stranger to causing a stir, with an early documentary for the BBC on her homeland of Sweden had some of her fellow Swedes branding her a traitor and her first narrative feature Loving Couples (1964) ran into some issues at Cannes, but the furor Zetterling caused with Night Games, the second feature for the actress turned director, trumped her past issues. Based on a novel written by Zetterling and her then husband David Hughes, the films troubles began at the Venice International Film Festival where the police closed the theatre where the film was to be screened to the public. When the film made it overseas to the San Francisco Film Festival, it so outraged Shirley Temple she quit her position on the festivals board of directors when her fellow board members refused the ban the film. For a film with such a checkered history, Night Games seems to have been tucked away in the footnotes which is a travesty as it’s a film that proves Zetterling with a force to be reckoned with when it came to material that challenged and transgressed.

Shortly before his wedding, Jan and his fiancée Mariana return to the mansion where Jan spent his childhood. Almost immediately after returning, Jan is overcome with memories of his troubled past involving his distant mother Irene (Ingrid Thulin), memories which have stunted him emotionally as well as intimately with Mariana which threaten their future together. With Mariana’s help, Jan begins to confront his past head on in an attempt to finally free him from the hold his memories of his mother and the house have on him.

Zetterling and Huges' novel on which
the film is based.

Clearly subtlety wasn’t in the cards for Zetterling when filming Night Games (Nattlek). Cutting back and forth between the past and present, Zetterling presents a somber, at times funny and quite often bizarre study of negative nostalgia. Zetterling’s approach to Jan’s neurosis is interesting in that she essentially plays devil’s advocate by characterizing the older Jan as somewhat stunted who desperately needs to let go of the past for his own good, yet Zetterling also understands the powerful grip the past can hold on some and given Jan’s upbringing, his current mindset is also understandable. It becomes obvious from the get go that the main source of Jan’s torments was and still is his mother Irene, who’s relationship with Jan ran the gamut from smothering (which culminates in a scene that’s still liable to stun even the most jaded viewers into uncomfortable silence) to cold and distant. Zetterling wisely leaves Irene a bit of a mystery, although its clear that her lifestyle is a means of masking her own insecurities. The Bergman comparisons are inevitable considering Zetterling’s psychological approach but the film is also comparable to the likes of Fellini and even pre dates Ken Russell’s sense of grotesque flamboyance with Irene’s wild sex parties featuring such scenes as Thulin giving birth to a stillborn child to a group of onlookers that includes a full band, with one member who’s instrument is his nose and a couple projecting their own homemade sex film in front of a cheering audience. Again, not exactly subtle.

In her autobiography All Those Tomorrows, Zetterling recalls the furor over film, claiming she became the center of attention in Venice for all the wrong reasons. Zetterling even admitted to asking herself if she had gone to far and intentionally set out to make a sensational film. Even a blurb in the Venice Festival program stating her intentions with the film did little to quell the oncoming media storm. She wasn’t without her sense of humor though. When asked at the Venice press conference about only allowing festival judges and the press to see the film, Zetterling remarked “I’m still not sure whether this means that the press are incorruptible or that they are already totally corrupted.” Again, given the films reputation its strange that it has more or less disappeared although one high profile fan has championed the film over the years. In his 1986 book Crackpot: The Obsessions of John Waters, the legendary filmmaker stated that for the longest time Night Games was his favorite film. Waters even programmed a screening of the film as part of his “Films I’d Wish I’d Made” series. Ever with Waters’ support, Night Games, and most of Zetterling’s directorial output still seem to fly under the radar when the film is more than deserving to be restored to its rightful place as an essential title from one of European cinema’s greatest and more undervalued troublemakers.