Best known as a cinematic catchphrase for cinematic naughtiness and
liberation, "I Am Curious" refers to a pair of semi-experimental features by
Swedish director Vilgot Sjöman. A fascinating if uneven stew of radical
politics, kitchen sink realism, sexual frankness, and gritty documentary
techniques, these films serve as effective celluloid time capsules even after
the shock value has largely dissipated over time.
The first and more notorious installment,
I Am Curious - Yellow (Jag är
nyfiken - gul), conveys the world through the eyes of young Lena (Lena Nyman), a fledgling revolutionary whose budding sexuality and innate curiosity
lead her on an eye-opening journey through her country, while the filmmakers and crew
are reflected in what amounts to a blurring between art and reality. Lena
commences a passionate but troubled relationship with car salesman Börje
Ahlstedt (mirrored in the film and real life by a tumultuous triangle with
director Vilgot Sjöman), and their experiences range from idyllic weekends
together in the country to a far more clinical awakening at a health camp for
reactionaries. Lena's story continues with I Am Curious - Blue (Jag är
nyfiken - bla), a far less controversial study of Swedish society via social
norms, the penal system, religious doctrine, and domestic relationships, as
Nyman and Ahlstedt attempt to ground their lives in an increasing atmosphere of
unrest.
Named for the two colors of the Swedish flag, the
I Am Curious films are
especially interesting for their hall of mirrors approach to filmmaking.
Newsreel footage of real figures like Martin Luther King, Jr. mixes with
scribbled onscreen slogans, interviews with common people on the street, and a
semblance of a linear narrative. The decidedly non-glamorous Lena was something
of a shock at the time; her pale and "normal" figure certainly clash with the
ideal of Twiggy and Audrey Hepburn being promoted at the time (to say nothing of
where we are today). Sjöman describes the films as concurrent versions of the
same story, simply told with different materials; in fact, they were both
assembled from one huge mound of film shot in 1966 after the director decided to
make an independent project freed from Swedish studio restraints. Of course, few
could have predicted the seismic international remifications of his little
cinematic statement; the film was banned in the U.S. and taken all the way to
the Supreme Court to be tried for obscenity. Thanks to the legal watersheds
inaugurated by the film, many obscenity and pornography laws were lifted, allowing
softcore to enter the mainstream. The blurring of documentary and narrative also
proved to be influential, as our impressions of the actors versus characters are
often unreliable. Ahlstedt turns out to be the father of another woman's child,
but we have no idea whether this is fact or part of the film's construct; Nyman
is the director's lover but falls for the leading actor, yet we cannot tell
where the acting ends and the genuine change of heart begins. As a result the
sex scenes have an increased emotional impact, and in Blue when they have
become domesticated yet remain active in political protests, the viewer is
pulled along for the journey as well. Many viewers also associate Swedish cinema
with austere, serious subject matter (often unfairly, as Ingmar Bergman actually
did several whimsical projects). Here humor is integrated skillfully into the
interviews and situations in a realistic fashion; Sjöman also uses effect
cutaways to written messages and visual collages to drive his points home with
wry aplomb.
Criterion's two-disc boxed set presents each film in its own separate case, with
seprate extras relating to each title. Transferred from the original negatives
in their original 1.33:1 aspect ratio, both films look absolutely pristine.
Anyone accustomed to battered repertory prints or, even worse, hazy video
transfers with unreadable, bleached-out subtitles will be amazed by the visual
presentation here. Black levels are dead on, and detail is immaculate and
crystal clear. The optional English subtitles are much more literate and easy to
follow than earlier versions, which consequently makes the films easier to
digest as the imagery whizzes by.
For the Yellow disc, supplements include a video interview with
publisher Barney Rosset and attorney Edward de Grazia, the two primary figures
in the string of legal cases ignited by the film, as well as "The Battle for I Am Curious - Yellow, a video document covering the legal skirmishes.
Sjöman appears in a newly recorded video introduction, including a quick look at
the studio where he cut his directorial teeth. He also provides commentary for a
variety of scenes, in a manner similar to the M2K Claude Chabrol discs in
France. The disc also includes an informative essay by Gary Giddins, who rightly
points out the film's influence on Medium Cool and the work of Dusan Makavejev, among others. The
Blue disc repeats the Sjöman commentary
method and also features a condensed version of Self Portrait '92, a
Swedish television documentary about the director in which he comes off as
something of a crackpot. Other bonuses include a deleted scene (nice but don't
except anything revelatory) and text excerpts from a 1968 interview with the
director, shortly before the American controversy really broke the following
year.
From www.scorelogue.com
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