Foreign Correspondent

Back in the mid-to-late 1990's, I discovered on my new cable TV service some channels that catered to the more sophisticated cinema fan. Not that I was sophisticated or anything, but I was a movie fan, for sure. Channels like Bravo and Showcase (here in Canada) broadcast all sorts of programming that fell into the realm of foreign, independent, and art-house film. This was a world that was very new to me. Until then, my preferred flicks included Matrix, Star Wars, Alien, and Rumble in the Bronx. That would change.

It took a while to warm up to subtitles in foreign language films, but the highly creative and avant-garde visuals and even music won me over. It was on these "alternative" TV channels that I first saw Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal, Roman Polanski's Bitter Moon, and Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors trilogy of films. There were also The City of Lost Children, The Scent of Green Papayas, Life is Beautiful, and Belle Epoque. Also The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. I learned a bit about the directors of these movies (and others) and sought out more of their pictures. 

Kieslowski's films and posters

are among the pride of my collection

City of Lost Children director Jean-Pierre Jeunet created one of my favourite movies of all time, Amelie. As a fan, I've seen all but one of his cinematic treats. Such a sense of whimsy and fantasy, and sometimes melancholy and darkness. 

Peter Greenaway envisioned striking images and stories in films composed of scenes of beautiful composition and lighting, nature and architecture... these and other contrasting themes delivered maximum power. The Belly of an Architect was a fascinating exploration of a twisted, tormented man through highly dramatic means.

Roman Polanski, his questionable personal life aside, was one of my first favourite directors, with his weird and wonderful horrors Repulsion and Fearless Vampire Killers, and later non-genre films Chinatown, The Ninth Gate, and The Pianist. Many of his works are considered classics of cinema, his dark themes and quirky character studies meticulously rendered for the silver screen.

My television introduction to the world of foreign and art-house films set me on a path that continues to this day. I've come across many great pictures, old and new, by foreign movie-makers, including heist masterpiece Rififi, gripping Brazilian crime thriller Elite Squad, tense French spy gem Army of Shadows, and exciting Hong Kong bio-pic about Bruce Lee's martial arts teacher, Ip Man.

Within my favourite genre, horror, I discovered overseas film-makers who were exceptionally talented and universally recognized. Jacques Tourneur was noted for his film noir approach to low-budget horror classics, like Cat People, Curse of the Demon, and The Leopard Man. Georges Franju made the supremely disturbing Eyes Without A Face, and though it was released in 1960, it still shocks. Italian fright master Mario Bava assembled two of my  favourites, Black Sabbath and Black Sunday. Lucio Fulci is considered the "godfather of gore", though I've probably only ever seen one of his movies. Not quite my thing. Dario Argento directed stylish thrillers, including Suspiria, but again, not really to my taste.

All these years after first viewing on TV the Three Colors trilogy by Mr. Kieslowski, I revisited the trio of movies with a new and greater appreciation. Kieslowski's other work included The Double Life of Veronique (now among my favourite films) and his Decalogue series. Moody and layered in nuance, visually and musically evocative, and the acting is always expressive, often subdued and contemplative. 

And one Guillermo del Toro established himself as a purveyor of dark fantasy, among other filmic delights. I like a lot of his work, my first exposure through his bizarre little vampire tale, Cronos. Then Mimic caught my attention, though it was more stylish than strong in story. His Hellboy movies were fun, but I hated Pacific Rim. It was his masterwork Pan's Labyrinth that impressed me and the rest of the world and put him on the map. I love his funny little touches to his movies, like insect creatures, whether benevolent or malevolent. 

Before I wrap up, I must make mention of Jonathan Glazer, the British filmmaker responsible for adapting Dutch novel Under the Skin to celluloid. Though not as truly "foreign" as the other stuff I've mentioned, this particular movie does fall heavily into the art-house category. In Under the Skin, we rely on subtext to determine our bearings in this oblique tale of alien abductions in Scotland. The experimental and aesthetic nature of the film may be polarizing with viewers, but I for one, love it. Dark and creepy, its lack of dialogue contributes to its eerie and unsettling atmosphere.

Though Goldfinger is not a foreign film, this

foreign - Danish - poster is among the coolest

I've seen (and own)