By the time you read this I will be in Portugal, and so it seemed appropriate that I should take a moment to talk about Portugal's greatest cinematic export, film director Manoel de Oliveira. Oliveira holds a curious record: he's the oldest living film director, and the only living film director to have worked in the silent era. His first film, Working on the Douro River, was an 18-minute documentary made in 1931. Hollywood had converted to sound by then, but many other countries were still silent. (Reportedly, he worked as an extra in a film as early as 1928.)

Currently, Oliveira is 97 years old and has a new movie out, Belle Toujours (additionally, he has finished one other and is in production on two more). I haven't seen Belle Toujours yet; it opened in June in New York and appeared like a blip on the box office chart. It's a sequel of sorts to Luis Bunuel's 1967 masterpiece Belle de Jour, with Michel Piccoli reprising his role as Henri Husson, who once helped sexually awaken the married, bored Severine (Catherine Denueve), turning her on to a life of daytime sexual depravity and mild sadomasochism. Years later, Severine (now played by Bulle Ogier, from Bunuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie) meets Henri once again and the two come to terms with their bizarre past.



Some more about Oliveira: he made his first feature film, Aniki Bobo, in 1942. He has directed 46 films in all, and worked in other capacities on 23 more, but most of them have been made since 1979, when he was in his 70s. He first began to tantalize international critics with his films Doomed Love (1979) and Francisca (1981). He made a documentary about Jean Vigo that appears in the European DVD box set, and he guest starred in Wim Wenders' Lisbon Story (1995). Almost all of his movies are difficult or impossible to see in America.

I first caught up with him in 1998 when his Voyage to the Beginning of the World screened at the San Francisco International Film Festival. It was the final film of Marcello Mastroianni, about an aging film director in search of a subject (kind of like a more laid-back version of 8 ½). It struck me with its patience and beauty, and a kind of wise observation of the world that only an old man possesses.

Oliveira can be difficult and sometimes even dull. I saw his next few films Inquietude (1998), The Letter (1999) and Word and Utopia (2000) at the film festival. I admired each, but found them a great deal more difficult than Voyage had been. None ended up with American theatrical distribution. But his next film, I'm Going Home (2002), struck me as nothing less than a masterpiece. It was the story of an aging actor (Piccoli this time) who suddenly loses his wife and child and must deal with his grief and loneliness. He eventually takes a job working on an English-language film of Ulysses, directed by an American (John Malkovich). I'm Going Home turned up at around the same time as the more popular In the Bedroom and The Son's Room, but handled its subject with far more grace and humor.

After that I saw a delightful and dense little documentary about Oliveira's hometown in Portugal, Oporto of My Childhood (which Milestone plans to release on DVD at some point). His next film, A Talking Picture found a small U.S. release (from Kino) thanks to its stars John Malkovich and Catherine Deneuve; but its old fashioned technique turned off most mainstream viewers and critics. Most of his other recent films have failed to turn up here at all. It seems to me that a career like Oliveira's should be celebrated, and that each new release should be greeted with enthusiasm. But the movie industry is run by one thing only: youth. Every new film is made or broken based on the whims of the average 14 year-old. Old people are simply obsolete.

Of course, I'm only talking about the U.S. Obviously Oliveira keeps making films and someone in Europe must be seeing them. The same goes for a few other old masters who are still alive and making movies. In 2005, Ingmar Bergman, now 88 years old, came out of "retirement" by directing a new film, Saraband, which I named as the year's best, although hardly any other critics bothered to even see it. Currently Alain Resnais, 85, has a film playing in American theaters, the superb Private Fears in Public Places (4 screens). Neither release caused much more than a ripple in America.

The most damning comparison comes when we take a look at one of the oldest living Hollywood directors, Stanley Donen, 83. Making his directorial debut in 1949, this is the man responsible for such classics as Singin' in the Rain (1952), Funny Face (1957), Charade (1963), Bedazzled (1967) and Two for the Road (1967). He has worked with some of the cinema's greatest actors, most deceased. I've heard stories over the past several years that he has new ideas for new movies, but his last theatrical release was Blame It on Rio (1984) and his last directing job was a TV movie, Love Letters, in 1999.

I can only assume that when he shows up at the studio, the upstarts in the front office humor him for a while and then send him home. Imagine the resources, skills and stories that must be available in his brain. It's a huge waste and a huge shame. Perhaps Stanley should head off to Europe, where he'd surely be greeted with open arms and a fresh new contract -- even if only a few people get to see the results.