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Filmmakers Serge Bromberg & Ruxandra Medrea do something very uncommon in their feature documentary: rather than dissect their subject--in this case world cinema Director Henri-Georges Clouzot--into bite size dosages of easily understood factoids, they manage to raise an otherwise impotent awareness regarding a lost film of his, while still constructing a lovely ode to an obviously cherished influence of theirs.  Clouzot--most notable for his "Les Diaboliques" (1955) which was later remade into the American Sharon Stone thriller "Diabolique" (1996)--had a serious undertaking of both personal and professional retribution, in that the anticipation and expectations were very high for his film "Inferno" (1964), after his previous film had been a winner at the lauded Venice Film Festival.

Early on in the engrossing documentary "Henri-Georges Clouzot's Inferno" Bromberg & Ruxandra show some clips from an interview with Clouzot in the days leading up to the principal photography of his ill fated "Inferno."  Clouzot confidently assures the interviewer that he recently survived a "serious" depression--not the trivial kind suffered by "starlets" either.  As a highly regarded artist, Clouzot wanted to do something radical with "Inferno." He would take a primal, dialed down plot (a recently married couple becomes unraveled as the husband lets his jealousy over his wife's effect on others cloud his senses) and turn it on its head with experimental visuals and unorthodox camera work.  Luckily, cans with developed film from "Inferno" are found and we are able to see some of the actual finished picture--minus the sound for the most part.  This is where some of the doc's ingenuity steps in.  Much like Ken Burns & his team had to recreate the sounds of war battle for his "The War" documentary, Bromberg & Ruxandra fill in the most mundane of sounds with Foley effects. Even the squeak of a door opening is created for a second of a scene, for example. And for the missing reels, two contemporary French actors read lines from a copy of the "Inferno" script on a sound-stage surrounded by infinite darkness.  More interesting, is the behind the scenes plot which shows (or in some ways hides) how the project couldn't come to completion. Budget issues. Scheduling. The temperament of Clouzot and his gifted actors.  And on and on.

As a filmmaker and film lover, I spent most of the my viewing time lurched forward in my seat, searching across the giant screen for clues, slip ups or anything that could help in the mental composition of some of Clouzot's visualizations. Some look like a kaleidoscope rendered effect, others play with color schemes.  Most are sexual in the subtext.  All are unforgettable.  

"Inferno" was doomed from the start (both the plot of the screenplay and its production life).  It was a labor of love--that was secret on the love and overbearing on the labor for its cast and crew.  Watching this documentary now, it feels as if this is the only appropriate way Clouzot's original vision could be executed (via the third party examination by this documentary crew).  A definite must see for students of the cinema.

Ken Loach is the man.  His film "Sweet Sixteen" (2002) remains in my eyes, one of the necessary, elemental viewings for young viewers (teens anyways).  It told the harsh story of a young teen who had to be quick on his feet in order to outwit drug dealers and prepare for his mother's eventual release from prison.  What that film did, and for the most part what most of Loach's films do, is pay far more attention to the lower class of society with the respect and semi-adoration of a Merchant-Ivory production.  Not once does Loach ever look down upon one of his cinema character groundlings.  Which is why viewing his films can be such powerful experiences.  He can make a scene where a boy must hide something feel and carry the weight of a king defending his empire in the old centuries.  We live and breathe with these people for two hours with such trust, it can be a pretty harrowing feat to get through the third act.

After wining the Palme D'Or three years ago at Cannes for his "The Wind That Shakes The Barley," Loach is back in prime, urban drama form with the marvelous "Looking For Eric." It works simultaneously as a fable and as a lesson in narrative perception.  On the outset, the film is about Eric Bishop (played with a heartbreaking vulnerability by Steve Evets) as a disillusioned postal worker who is now raising his two stepsons alone after his second wife leaves him.  The opening scenes show us the individuals in Eric's life who obviously care a great deal about him.  It's still no good for Eric though, because he carries a deeper guilt with which I'll leave you to discover.

The fable part steps in an unusual way.  Eric steals marijuana from one of his stepsons and then sees his soccer idol (Manchester United's Eric Cantona) appear in person in his bedroom.  Loach avoids any gimmicks or special effects for these scenes. Cantona just pops up and even plays the radio and tokes a few with Eric from time to time.  Is this really a miracle?  Or is Eric just that stoned?

And Loach lets these scenes run for stretches of time, warming up to the audience.  A lot of it is genuinely funny.  It's with this narrative tool that Loach pulls the biggest trick of perception since sooner or later Eric is going to have to come face to face with the real, larger and seriously dangerous problems of his life.  So if at about an hour into the film, you find yourself not laughing as much and mouthing "Oh fuck!" as the third act violently pushes forward don't be surprised.  This is Ken Loach we're talking about.  He can only do the Jiminy Cricket tap dance for so long. 

Like I said, he's the man.