Another Year is a gorgeously scripted film that discusses loss, love, and a loss of love as seen through the eyes of a happily married couple. Shown in four seasons the film examines heartache, death, birth, and the pains of growing old by these two people who seem an anchor for those around them caught in the unrestrained surges of life. Director Mike Leigh has created a small wonder of thoughtful examination studying the real faults of very real characters.
Ruth Sheen is Gerri, a counsellor with unending patience whose home seems to be a safe-haven for friends and family whose turmoil leaves them helpless. She shares her home with her husband, Tom (Jim Broadbent), who is as caring as she is, but is not nearly as complacent when he sees the faults of others going untended or being exacerbated. But together they lead a charmed life. They are steadfast and unchanging. Their garden is cared for and produces beautiful tomatoes and there is always a bed ready for the weary wanderer. Their only concern is whether they shall have grandchildren, but even that issue doesn't last long.
I don't believe, however, that this story is exactly about them simply because of the fact that there is so little conflict in their lives. Troubled friends float in and out of their periphery, but the one that always seems to return is Gerri's friend and colleague, Mary (Lesley Manville). Describing her in detail would be long and arduous, but summarizing her is extraordinarily easy: she is simply the most pitiable wretch who scarcely makes it day to day through her life.
I think that this movie is about her. She is older, she is desperately lonely, and she clings on to anything that might keep her afloat. Study her car; her car is everything. How much she invested into a little red car--practically everything she owned, and how that car which she was so optimistic about failed her like everything else has failed her. The unending troubles it gives to her is awful especially when she has poured so much into it, trying so hard to make it happy which would make her happy. Her only constant is Gerri, and even that friendship at times seems precarious. Are some people born unlucky, or do they bring unluckiness onto themselves? I feel that the case of this woman is that the unfairness of her life was not brought about by her actions necessarily, but she has a fragile heart and all of the optimism that she tries to drown her miseries in are no match for the fact that a few simple slights lead her to self-destructive behavior. This film is about her, but it must be told through the eyes of Tom and Gerri or it would simply be too miserable a film to watch.
Often times Mary is brought into contact with those others that would seek a warm embrace from the couple. The one man that might have shown Mary some affection, Ken, she rejects, even though he is equally as lonely and despairing as she. There is Joe, Tom and Gerri's son, whose new girlfriend makes Mary feel irrationally jealous. And then there is Ronnie, Tom's brother and recent widower. At first Mary tries to flirt with him, but in the end I'm not entirely sure what it was that their relationship is or will be. It is no coincidence that the final shot of the film was of the two of them at a crowded dinner table which then slowly panned Mary's miserable face.
I predicted that this film would take something of a conventional approach to its structure, and in that I was mistaken. My fault with this film was its lack of resolution. I do not necessarily believe that all films must be resolved in its entirety--least of all with its main characters--but there was almost none to be found whatsoever. A film should be about an arc in which characters grow or change and reach some sort of definite end. That is the goal of the medium, to tell a self-contained story in two hours. Otherwise what's the point? It is simply a spotlight on unhappy people leading unhappy lives all circling about two inexplicably happy seniors. Why is it that they have no troubles even when they are surrounded by a sea of sadness?
In any case, as I have said the dialogue in this film was remarkable. Mike Leigh took a gentle, yet uncompromising view of these people and with his gifted ear for dialogue made something beautiful. Everyone was cast impeccably--Manville and Sheen were especially impressive, but the ensemble, right down the depressed insomniac of the opening scene, where magnificent. This is a very touching movie and a small gem of British cinema.
3.5/4
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
War Horse (2011)
Steven Spielberg is known for having revolutionized the world of film making by essentially creating the summer family blockbuster. Beyond that, his films are known for tackling non-human characters: aliens, sharks, dinosaurs. In this latest film his central figure is a horse named Joey whose exceptional beauty, strength, and a heart full of love touches the lives of many, namely his carer, Albert (Jeremy Irvine).
I am not a fan of movies about horses. I tend to find them sentimental and preachy. This was an unabashedly sentimental film and mildly preachy, but in good, loving ways and I must say that I fell for its charms. Coming into maturity, the wild horse Joey is purchased by a local farmer to plow his fields. Although Joey is the finest example of a horse he is untrained, and it seems that the huge sum of money paid for him may go to waste. But Albert, the farmer's son, knows that Joey has the capability to save his family's farm.
Their lives are interrupted, however, by the outbreak of WWI, and in a last ditch effort to save his property Albert's father sells Joey to a captain of the army. It is from there that Joey becomes a war horse. He is passed through many hands, but always seems to find affection in unlikely places and reach the hearts of those who need him most. He becomes the legs of a soldier afraid to move, a memory of parents to a young orphan, a symbol of beauty for a weary private, and way of escape for two young, scared lads. Joey is abused, neglected, mistreated, but always manages to find his way to those who might offer him a home.
Joey is a symbol of bravery, of masculinity, and of hope, which is what this film is all about. It is based off of a children's novel from what I am aware of, but this is certainly not a children's film. It is tender, and the main focus of the film is about the bond between a man and his horse, but the battle sequences are intense, and there is much cruelty and death brought to many animals. There were young people in the audience with me and several were very affected by this.
For those who are mature enough for the material, however, this is a supreme entertainment from a master director who knows where the heart is. I laughed when I was supposed to laugh, I teared when I was supposed to feel sad, I was thrilled when the film meant to be thrilling. This is a film that can be appreciated by many types of audiences. For those who may not have been impressed by the acting which was good but not great, or those who were nonplussed by the story which was good but great, there is still so much to be moved by. One thing that cannot be denied about this movie was that it was gorgeously painted. The locations and sets were exquisite, especially in the scenes of Albert's farm and of the trenches in France.
Much credit must be given to the horse trainer of this film. Although there were some wonderfully constructed characters there is no doubt that Finder, the horse playing Joey, was the star of the movie. I should hesitate to use the word "performance" to describe what he did, but there really is no better word for it. Joey's heartache, suffering, and love came through just as clear than the people in this film. Although intellectually I was aware that he was trained exceptionally well I tended to forget it, and that is the magic of cinema. There is a life and an exuberance in the presence of that horse and I was swept away with it.
Audiences will love this film for its epic battle sequences and tender moments of affection. See this for the spectacle and, if you are like me, lose the chip on your soldier, for even though this is a horse film it is a great one nonetheless.
3.5/4
I am not a fan of movies about horses. I tend to find them sentimental and preachy. This was an unabashedly sentimental film and mildly preachy, but in good, loving ways and I must say that I fell for its charms. Coming into maturity, the wild horse Joey is purchased by a local farmer to plow his fields. Although Joey is the finest example of a horse he is untrained, and it seems that the huge sum of money paid for him may go to waste. But Albert, the farmer's son, knows that Joey has the capability to save his family's farm.
Their lives are interrupted, however, by the outbreak of WWI, and in a last ditch effort to save his property Albert's father sells Joey to a captain of the army. It is from there that Joey becomes a war horse. He is passed through many hands, but always seems to find affection in unlikely places and reach the hearts of those who need him most. He becomes the legs of a soldier afraid to move, a memory of parents to a young orphan, a symbol of beauty for a weary private, and way of escape for two young, scared lads. Joey is abused, neglected, mistreated, but always manages to find his way to those who might offer him a home.
Joey is a symbol of bravery, of masculinity, and of hope, which is what this film is all about. It is based off of a children's novel from what I am aware of, but this is certainly not a children's film. It is tender, and the main focus of the film is about the bond between a man and his horse, but the battle sequences are intense, and there is much cruelty and death brought to many animals. There were young people in the audience with me and several were very affected by this.
For those who are mature enough for the material, however, this is a supreme entertainment from a master director who knows where the heart is. I laughed when I was supposed to laugh, I teared when I was supposed to feel sad, I was thrilled when the film meant to be thrilling. This is a film that can be appreciated by many types of audiences. For those who may not have been impressed by the acting which was good but not great, or those who were nonplussed by the story which was good but great, there is still so much to be moved by. One thing that cannot be denied about this movie was that it was gorgeously painted. The locations and sets were exquisite, especially in the scenes of Albert's farm and of the trenches in France.
Much credit must be given to the horse trainer of this film. Although there were some wonderfully constructed characters there is no doubt that Finder, the horse playing Joey, was the star of the movie. I should hesitate to use the word "performance" to describe what he did, but there really is no better word for it. Joey's heartache, suffering, and love came through just as clear than the people in this film. Although intellectually I was aware that he was trained exceptionally well I tended to forget it, and that is the magic of cinema. There is a life and an exuberance in the presence of that horse and I was swept away with it.
Audiences will love this film for its epic battle sequences and tender moments of affection. See this for the spectacle and, if you are like me, lose the chip on your soldier, for even though this is a horse film it is a great one nonetheless.
3.5/4
Friday, January 27, 2012
The Descendants (2011)
There are certain things in life that supposedly get better with age: cheese, wine, and apparently George Clooney. I would say that there is greatness locked in this man, but it has taken him far too long to realize that he has got it. In the past five years he has done tremendous work as a writer, director and actor, but this role, Matt King, is where he shall leave his mark. It was a privilege to watch him.
As we gear up towards the Oscars there seems to be a general consensus that Best Picture will go to The Artist with Hugo close behind. This is an unfortunate scene I paint for I have discovered that The Descendants is quite possibly the best film of the year done by one of the most promising directors of our time, Alexander Payne (Sideways). There is not another film that I have seen from 2011 that was as thoughtful, touching, funny, heartbreaking, or as beautifully acted as this one.
It follows Matt, a busy and distant attorney, who has been contemplating who to sell 25,000 acres of untapped beauty on Hawaii, which he inherited from a long lineage of Hawaiian family members. His life does not stop, but rather lurches forward when his wife suffers a boating accident and falls into a coma. Suddenly Matt finds himself head parent, a role which he is ill-equipped to handle. His seventeen year old daughter, Alex (Shailene Woodley), is a druggy who likes her older men, and his younger daughter, Scottie (Amara Miller), is simply angry and testing the waters now that "the backup parent" is in charge.
To make matters worse, Matt learns that before her accident his wife had fallen in love with another man. It is this knowledge that leads Matt, his daughters, and Alex's stoner friend Sid on a sort of journey to find the man that has caused so much grief for all of them. This man was not the cause of his wife's accident, of course, but a man and two young girls on the verge of losing a part of their nuclear family do not need to know that the keystone of their family was on the verge of coming loose. It is a most unfortunate catalyst that throws these dysfunctional family members together, but they realize that none of them are strong enough to cope alone and must force a connection with each other.
There are so many levels of grief in this film that pile on top of one another until there could be no way that these unhappy characters could possibly deal with it anymore, but they lean on one another and finally a catharsis begins. It must begin. Time assuredly heals all wounds--even ones as large as this--but until time comes to do its work they survive by relying on the power of familial bonds. Love may not have been especially present at the beginning, but something more than tolerance is found by the end. There is much, much more that passes in this film, but the important thing about it is the journey through the unexpected twists and bumps in the road that these four people must cope with in order to navigate their way to a place in which happiness does not seem an unreachable point in the distance.
Payne, as we have seen in his earlier works, is a wizard at carefully piloting through the humorous and the tragic. This is a dramedy in its purest form. If there were not moments in which the audience could laugh this was would not be a pleasant experience to watch or, I suspect, to act in. Without the moments of very good comedy it would be a struggle to take a message away from this film. For who wants to deal with a life or death situation in which all of the characters have irreconcilable flaws and simply exist in a state of wallowing misery? At least in the way that Payne has tackled the tough topics that he does there is humanity, and there is a strength given to his characters which shows them capable of making it through their lowest of lows, and that is a comfort.
The acting in this film, like the superb script, is flawless. Clooney gives the best performance of the year, and of his career. I think that audience members will be moved to see a character who honestly tries to be a good person. He struggles to better himself, but it's the fact that he tries and eventually learns from his mistakes that he is likable. I wanted him to succeed--not at his confrontation, but succeed in forming a stronger family. His daughters respond to that struggle and through crisis they all grow. The arc is clear and it is magnificent. This is absolutely a must-watch film.
4/4
As we gear up towards the Oscars there seems to be a general consensus that Best Picture will go to The Artist with Hugo close behind. This is an unfortunate scene I paint for I have discovered that The Descendants is quite possibly the best film of the year done by one of the most promising directors of our time, Alexander Payne (Sideways). There is not another film that I have seen from 2011 that was as thoughtful, touching, funny, heartbreaking, or as beautifully acted as this one.
It follows Matt, a busy and distant attorney, who has been contemplating who to sell 25,000 acres of untapped beauty on Hawaii, which he inherited from a long lineage of Hawaiian family members. His life does not stop, but rather lurches forward when his wife suffers a boating accident and falls into a coma. Suddenly Matt finds himself head parent, a role which he is ill-equipped to handle. His seventeen year old daughter, Alex (Shailene Woodley), is a druggy who likes her older men, and his younger daughter, Scottie (Amara Miller), is simply angry and testing the waters now that "the backup parent" is in charge.
To make matters worse, Matt learns that before her accident his wife had fallen in love with another man. It is this knowledge that leads Matt, his daughters, and Alex's stoner friend Sid on a sort of journey to find the man that has caused so much grief for all of them. This man was not the cause of his wife's accident, of course, but a man and two young girls on the verge of losing a part of their nuclear family do not need to know that the keystone of their family was on the verge of coming loose. It is a most unfortunate catalyst that throws these dysfunctional family members together, but they realize that none of them are strong enough to cope alone and must force a connection with each other.
There are so many levels of grief in this film that pile on top of one another until there could be no way that these unhappy characters could possibly deal with it anymore, but they lean on one another and finally a catharsis begins. It must begin. Time assuredly heals all wounds--even ones as large as this--but until time comes to do its work they survive by relying on the power of familial bonds. Love may not have been especially present at the beginning, but something more than tolerance is found by the end. There is much, much more that passes in this film, but the important thing about it is the journey through the unexpected twists and bumps in the road that these four people must cope with in order to navigate their way to a place in which happiness does not seem an unreachable point in the distance.
Payne, as we have seen in his earlier works, is a wizard at carefully piloting through the humorous and the tragic. This is a dramedy in its purest form. If there were not moments in which the audience could laugh this was would not be a pleasant experience to watch or, I suspect, to act in. Without the moments of very good comedy it would be a struggle to take a message away from this film. For who wants to deal with a life or death situation in which all of the characters have irreconcilable flaws and simply exist in a state of wallowing misery? At least in the way that Payne has tackled the tough topics that he does there is humanity, and there is a strength given to his characters which shows them capable of making it through their lowest of lows, and that is a comfort.
The acting in this film, like the superb script, is flawless. Clooney gives the best performance of the year, and of his career. I think that audience members will be moved to see a character who honestly tries to be a good person. He struggles to better himself, but it's the fact that he tries and eventually learns from his mistakes that he is likable. I wanted him to succeed--not at his confrontation, but succeed in forming a stronger family. His daughters respond to that struggle and through crisis they all grow. The arc is clear and it is magnificent. This is absolutely a must-watch film.
4/4
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Shame (2011)
I rarely write a review immediately after seeing a film, but I was so emotionally taken up with Shame that I couldn't help but put down my thoughts as soon as I arrived home. It's interesting looking at my notes as this was the first time that I have written something before a movie has begun. I knew perfectly well what I was going to be watching as I have briefly scanned a few reviews following the immense praise given to actors Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan, and I was both intrigued and a bit apprehensive about seeing it. Right up until the beginning of the film I was alone in the theater (which almost never happens) and for this particular film being a man by myself in a dark, quiet room about to watch this particular film made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Without seeing a character or hearing a line question after question began running through my mind and I was nervous. This was made slightly worse when the next person to enter was a bachelor--who looked very much like he ought to be single--who spent a solid two minutes debating which seat would provide him the absolute best view of Fassbender's penis. I decided then that this was a film that I was not going to enjoy seeing in public. I was right.
Being gay, I often engage in discussions of sexuality, asexuality, perversions and promiscuity. The gays are notorious for their sleazy and common acts of sex and I feel I am generally versed in what it means to be "easy". But what about sexual addiction? Can a person be addicted to the act of having sex? of having orgasms? Is the orgasm the end goal or is simply the act of being close to someone as intoxicating as doing drugs? Surely there are porn addicts, but then porn is easily accessible and cheap if you know where to look. I suppose sex might be the same way, the difference being I haven't bothered to look for it.
Fassbender is stunning as Brandon Sullivan who is as close to a sex addict as I can imagine. His computer hard drives are "filthy" with pornography, his closet is packed with DVDs and magazines, and bringing home women is no sort of accomplishment. We see him masturbate in the shower, but he takes no pleasure in it. It is habitual and almost painful. On trains he stares at women, but I don't think he is flirting with them. Brandon is very handsome, moderately successful, clean and tidy, and completely unassuming. When he looks at women they want him. He has a magnetism and an ease that it is impossible not to resist, but he isn't flirting. He simply knows how to get what he wants--what he needs, rather. If we are discussing addiction then it has become a necessity of his body to be with women. It goes beyond a natural urge to procreate.
This is a very sad man, and his encounters with women which under normal circumstances we might find nice to watch and happy for the hero of the film, instead make us feel pity for the creature. He is ashamed; he hates himself. Brandon is absolutely the most perplexing and engaging character of any film this year. There is a scene in which he goes into a bathroom stall at work to masturbate, but before he does he wipes down the toilet seat with tissues.
The more I watched Fassbender bring to life this puzzle of a human being the more I wanted a complete story of his life. The ease and natural grace in which he moves about and interacts with women got me wondering when it was that this obsession with women started and when he realized he was an addict. Because of his nature there is nothing about him to assume that he is such a person. When his computer at work is found to have tons of porn on it his boss, who is also a good friend, assumes that it was an intern using his computer. There wasn't even a hint that it could have been Brandon's doing. Although this type of person is probably a bit exaggerated (by this I mean in his rare gifts with women) Brandon is not at all someone who could not exist in real life, and that is both frightening and sad.
Apart from Fassbender, who is surely one of the great up-and-coming actors of our generation, this is all around a wonderful piece of film making. Carey Mulligan is notable as Sissy, his troubled, artistic sister who comes to live with him when she has nowhere else to go, much to the disapproval of Brandon. Alone she is as wonderful as she always is, particularly in a musical number which had me enraptured, but playing opposite Fassbender she is stellar. The two of them together are a pitch-perfect match.
Beyond the acting, the direction and script were both very solid, coming from Steve McQueen and co-writer Abi Morgan. Though the end of the film is a bit over-dramatic the climax of the film (pun absolutely intended, though I slightly regret it due to the gravity of the film) is a dizzying spiral, expertly shot and paced, and Fassbender's eyes at the end will sear into your brain. Never was there such a lonely creature. The other people in the audience ruined that moment ever so slightly simply by their presence. In a dark room, by myself, I think I would have been beside myself looking into those eyes. Sex is a punishment; an orgasm is penance. Fassbender was shattering, and the movie eye-opening.
4/4
Being gay, I often engage in discussions of sexuality, asexuality, perversions and promiscuity. The gays are notorious for their sleazy and common acts of sex and I feel I am generally versed in what it means to be "easy". But what about sexual addiction? Can a person be addicted to the act of having sex? of having orgasms? Is the orgasm the end goal or is simply the act of being close to someone as intoxicating as doing drugs? Surely there are porn addicts, but then porn is easily accessible and cheap if you know where to look. I suppose sex might be the same way, the difference being I haven't bothered to look for it.
Fassbender is stunning as Brandon Sullivan who is as close to a sex addict as I can imagine. His computer hard drives are "filthy" with pornography, his closet is packed with DVDs and magazines, and bringing home women is no sort of accomplishment. We see him masturbate in the shower, but he takes no pleasure in it. It is habitual and almost painful. On trains he stares at women, but I don't think he is flirting with them. Brandon is very handsome, moderately successful, clean and tidy, and completely unassuming. When he looks at women they want him. He has a magnetism and an ease that it is impossible not to resist, but he isn't flirting. He simply knows how to get what he wants--what he needs, rather. If we are discussing addiction then it has become a necessity of his body to be with women. It goes beyond a natural urge to procreate.
This is a very sad man, and his encounters with women which under normal circumstances we might find nice to watch and happy for the hero of the film, instead make us feel pity for the creature. He is ashamed; he hates himself. Brandon is absolutely the most perplexing and engaging character of any film this year. There is a scene in which he goes into a bathroom stall at work to masturbate, but before he does he wipes down the toilet seat with tissues.
The more I watched Fassbender bring to life this puzzle of a human being the more I wanted a complete story of his life. The ease and natural grace in which he moves about and interacts with women got me wondering when it was that this obsession with women started and when he realized he was an addict. Because of his nature there is nothing about him to assume that he is such a person. When his computer at work is found to have tons of porn on it his boss, who is also a good friend, assumes that it was an intern using his computer. There wasn't even a hint that it could have been Brandon's doing. Although this type of person is probably a bit exaggerated (by this I mean in his rare gifts with women) Brandon is not at all someone who could not exist in real life, and that is both frightening and sad.
Apart from Fassbender, who is surely one of the great up-and-coming actors of our generation, this is all around a wonderful piece of film making. Carey Mulligan is notable as Sissy, his troubled, artistic sister who comes to live with him when she has nowhere else to go, much to the disapproval of Brandon. Alone she is as wonderful as she always is, particularly in a musical number which had me enraptured, but playing opposite Fassbender she is stellar. The two of them together are a pitch-perfect match.
Beyond the acting, the direction and script were both very solid, coming from Steve McQueen and co-writer Abi Morgan. Though the end of the film is a bit over-dramatic the climax of the film (pun absolutely intended, though I slightly regret it due to the gravity of the film) is a dizzying spiral, expertly shot and paced, and Fassbender's eyes at the end will sear into your brain. Never was there such a lonely creature. The other people in the audience ruined that moment ever so slightly simply by their presence. In a dark room, by myself, I think I would have been beside myself looking into those eyes. Sex is a punishment; an orgasm is penance. Fassbender was shattering, and the movie eye-opening.
4/4
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988)
Let's continue on with our education of my opinions on Pedro Almodovar. This was his first major critical success and is one of the most fun, confusing, and ridiculous films that has come out of this man, or out of any man for the last twenty years. Although I was not watching films--was not even born then, in fact-- when it came out, I must say that I think this is probably the reason why he is even on the map. Not a single film that I have seen before this has the style, the verbal cadence, or the fantastical sequences of events which each scene, though on their own seem pointless, combine into a wonderfully entertaining explosion of color and great performances, particularly from it's lead, Carmen Maura.
Maura plays Pepa, a woman getting over the breakup of a three year long relationship, and a woman desperately trying to sleep. She tries to get a hold of him after finding out that he is going on a trip with another woman, but through a series of very bizarre events she is prevented from seeing or even speaking to him for two days. Along the way her troubles mount when her model friend, Candela (Maria Barranco), informs her that she has accidentally gotten herself involved with Shi'ite terrorists who plan on high-jacking a plane to Stockholm.
This might be okay--at least Pepa could keep things under control--were it not for the two young people coming to look at her apartment hoping to rent it. One turns out to be the stepson Pepa never knew she had (a young Antonio Banderas), and the girl ends up drugged with spiked gazpacho. To make matters even worse Pepa's man's crazy ex, Lucia (Julieta Serrano), has been released from the asylum and is out to make sure that neither Pepa, nor her ex, make it on any plane anywhere.
Maura shines as the oldish, spunky, and emotionally unbalanced woman trying to keep everything in order. But as the unforeseen circumstances mount up, and when she can't seem to get a hold of her ex even once, the pressure brings her closer and closer to the verge of a nervous breakdown. It takes a fine actress to navigate through the insanity that Almodovar unleashes at the screen, but she is a gem in her abilities to find a character that is both equally as colorful as his script and the overall design, while at the same time remaining human.
The rest of the cast, perhaps excepting Barranco, are charming and hyperbolic men and women who adorn Pepa's life like the tacky furniture and clothes that she owns. They are there creating a dazzling, if hectic, scene through which Pepa--poor Pepa--must navigate. The result is a really lovable movie with characters you love to love, and some you love to hate. This perhaps one of Almodovar's most accessible films due mainly to its lack of violence and sex. He spends his time, rather, focusing on two absurdly wacky days in one woman's life, and in the end it is a simple joy of mine.
4/4
Maura plays Pepa, a woman getting over the breakup of a three year long relationship, and a woman desperately trying to sleep. She tries to get a hold of him after finding out that he is going on a trip with another woman, but through a series of very bizarre events she is prevented from seeing or even speaking to him for two days. Along the way her troubles mount when her model friend, Candela (Maria Barranco), informs her that she has accidentally gotten herself involved with Shi'ite terrorists who plan on high-jacking a plane to Stockholm.
This might be okay--at least Pepa could keep things under control--were it not for the two young people coming to look at her apartment hoping to rent it. One turns out to be the stepson Pepa never knew she had (a young Antonio Banderas), and the girl ends up drugged with spiked gazpacho. To make matters even worse Pepa's man's crazy ex, Lucia (Julieta Serrano), has been released from the asylum and is out to make sure that neither Pepa, nor her ex, make it on any plane anywhere.
Maura shines as the oldish, spunky, and emotionally unbalanced woman trying to keep everything in order. But as the unforeseen circumstances mount up, and when she can't seem to get a hold of her ex even once, the pressure brings her closer and closer to the verge of a nervous breakdown. It takes a fine actress to navigate through the insanity that Almodovar unleashes at the screen, but she is a gem in her abilities to find a character that is both equally as colorful as his script and the overall design, while at the same time remaining human.
The rest of the cast, perhaps excepting Barranco, are charming and hyperbolic men and women who adorn Pepa's life like the tacky furniture and clothes that she owns. They are there creating a dazzling, if hectic, scene through which Pepa--poor Pepa--must navigate. The result is a really lovable movie with characters you love to love, and some you love to hate. This perhaps one of Almodovar's most accessible films due mainly to its lack of violence and sex. He spends his time, rather, focusing on two absurdly wacky days in one woman's life, and in the end it is a simple joy of mine.
4/4
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Skin I Live In (2011)
Let's begin by noting that this is an Almodovar film--that is, it was made by Almodovar. This is not the sexually charge celebration of life and femininity that we are accustomed to and it will certainly have its critics. As always, his film has visual style to spare, but this is a trip into the darkest, most macabre cranny of this genius's mind.
Antonio Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, who is a brilliant, world-renowned plastic surgeon who has spent several years perfecting a type of synthetic skin, mutated from the cells of a pig, which can be used to create new faces for burn victims. A terrible accident some years before sparked this quest, but the questionable ethical implications of this has made the medical community angry. Robert insists that he has only been experimenting on mice, but I'm sure that the flawless young girl locked in his house would say otherwise.
The story of Vera Cruz (Elena Anaya) is shown after she and Robert's maid and mother (Marisa Paredes) are violently attacked by a feral tiger. The cameras that Robert uses to watch her every move show a lonely, desperate woman who scrawls on her walls, practices yoga, smokes opium, and makes horribly deformed sculptures of people's faces using double sided tape and strips of her dresses which she never wears (preferring instead to don a flesh-colored body suit). She is violent, cunning, manipulative and at the same time incredibly alluring. Her porcelain face and black, liquid eyes contain the connection between Robert's past and his present obsession. What could possibly be strong enough and horrible enough to drive a brilliant doctor completely insane, to kidnap and keep hostage a young woman, to graft skin on to her and then sexually obsess over her?
There are twists in this film that I would bank money on you wouldn't guess. Almodovar again proves his flair for insane concepts and brilliant execution. As always his film doesn't consistently make sense or prove to have a point, but what I like about this is precisely that. When I watch one of his films I see exaggerated characters in fantastic situations that contain a plot but are more like clips of dreams sewn together. He writes from his gut as opposed to his head which adds a certain vivacity and almost a certain level of suspense to find out what will next be served.
This film in particular has that suspension as it is something of a thriller as well. As the pieces fall into place and the madness exposes itself in its true form there can be no denying that this is a taught, expertly made, and briskly paced movie. It is supremely entertaining if incredibly disturbing. The image of the tiger attack when his mouth is on the mouth of Vera still haunts me.
I am not completely convinced of this film, though. I think that it might be deep-seeded biases of my love for the traditionally "Almodovar" films. This is a very, very well done film in comparison with others that have come out this year, but I am not sure that it is as good in comparison with himself. I applaud and respect him for exploring and experimenting with his medium, but I do not know if I like the direction that he has been trending towards. Another more recent film of his that I had issues with was Talk to Her which also had duplicitous characters and ulterior motives. I don't know if think the nice and sympathetic way that he presented those characters was better than the depraved, base ones of this film.
I suppose this may be a turning point in his career and we may be seeing much more of the same from him. If that's the case and if I am going to have to get used to it then I will judge it for what it is, and that is a very beautifully done movie.
3/4
Antonio Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, who is a brilliant, world-renowned plastic surgeon who has spent several years perfecting a type of synthetic skin, mutated from the cells of a pig, which can be used to create new faces for burn victims. A terrible accident some years before sparked this quest, but the questionable ethical implications of this has made the medical community angry. Robert insists that he has only been experimenting on mice, but I'm sure that the flawless young girl locked in his house would say otherwise.
The story of Vera Cruz (Elena Anaya) is shown after she and Robert's maid and mother (Marisa Paredes) are violently attacked by a feral tiger. The cameras that Robert uses to watch her every move show a lonely, desperate woman who scrawls on her walls, practices yoga, smokes opium, and makes horribly deformed sculptures of people's faces using double sided tape and strips of her dresses which she never wears (preferring instead to don a flesh-colored body suit). She is violent, cunning, manipulative and at the same time incredibly alluring. Her porcelain face and black, liquid eyes contain the connection between Robert's past and his present obsession. What could possibly be strong enough and horrible enough to drive a brilliant doctor completely insane, to kidnap and keep hostage a young woman, to graft skin on to her and then sexually obsess over her?
There are twists in this film that I would bank money on you wouldn't guess. Almodovar again proves his flair for insane concepts and brilliant execution. As always his film doesn't consistently make sense or prove to have a point, but what I like about this is precisely that. When I watch one of his films I see exaggerated characters in fantastic situations that contain a plot but are more like clips of dreams sewn together. He writes from his gut as opposed to his head which adds a certain vivacity and almost a certain level of suspense to find out what will next be served.
This film in particular has that suspension as it is something of a thriller as well. As the pieces fall into place and the madness exposes itself in its true form there can be no denying that this is a taught, expertly made, and briskly paced movie. It is supremely entertaining if incredibly disturbing. The image of the tiger attack when his mouth is on the mouth of Vera still haunts me.
I am not completely convinced of this film, though. I think that it might be deep-seeded biases of my love for the traditionally "Almodovar" films. This is a very, very well done film in comparison with others that have come out this year, but I am not sure that it is as good in comparison with himself. I applaud and respect him for exploring and experimenting with his medium, but I do not know if I like the direction that he has been trending towards. Another more recent film of his that I had issues with was Talk to Her which also had duplicitous characters and ulterior motives. I don't know if think the nice and sympathetic way that he presented those characters was better than the depraved, base ones of this film.
I suppose this may be a turning point in his career and we may be seeing much more of the same from him. If that's the case and if I am going to have to get used to it then I will judge it for what it is, and that is a very beautifully done movie.
3/4
Saturday, January 7, 2012
The Iron Lady (2011)
A year ago I read that this was going to be coming out. Obviously it would be Oscar bait; the Academy loves themselves a good biopic and lord knows they believe God is a woman and that She is in the form of Meryl Streep. Obviously, then, a story about one of the most controversial political figures of the 20th century, Margaret Thatcher, as portrayed by the greatest working actress should have been cinematic gold. I would like very much to confirm those expectations; instead I must shatter them for all of those who have yet to see it.
Meryl Streep is titanic in her performance. There is no doubt of her range and capabilities, and she proves within the first few minutes why she was chosen over other equally qualified British actresses to play one of the most British figures that we in our modern world can remember. It is nearly certain after seeing the many layers of Thatcher revealed unflinchingly by this sorceress of the screen that she will grab her third Oscar, and it may be that this is the highlight of her career. It is certainly a tremendous performance and something to be very proud of.
Director Phyllida Lloyd should then be ashamed at herself for having taken such a powerful story and the actress of actresses and thrown them away. This is a rubbish presentation of a mediocre biopic, told in the most slapdash of fashions and was, if I am being frank, quite ugly to watch.
Told through flashbacks of the delusional Thatcher in her later years, The Iron Lady presents the life of the first and only female prime minister of Great Britain from time spent in the war (young Thatcher was played by an awful Alexandra Roach) until the day that she resigned from office. The structure is held together by two days in her later years where she is trying to clear a dresser of her late husband's things with the help of her daughter (Olivia Colman). As she does she is plagued by the hallucinations of her husband, Denis (Jim Broadbent), which in turn trigger memories from the past.
Why this needed to be so I cannot possibly understand. There was nothing to be gained from a dramatic interpretation of a crazy Thatcher, and I found it tedious and distracting. It was not always entirely clear when the jumps were being made, why they were being made, and what the audience was supposed to gain from having had the experience. There were even times when, although the flashbacks were supposed to move forward chronologically, they jumped backwards. It was confusing and completely pointless. What was most frustrating about them is that they did not focus at all on the important parts of her life that we glimpse in these moments. There is plenty of footage of her talking about campaigning but they never show her doing it. There are moments and lots of dialogue about the struggles she has had being a woman, but they don't fully explore her first day in Parliament or the troubles she had becoming Prime Minister. Streep continuously spouted out lines about being a strong leader, but you seldom saw her doing it. She seemed more like a great bully than a great leader, but it funnily presented her that way in the nicest fashion.
What would have made this film tolerable, good even, would have been to focus the span of time in which it was told. The film glazed over the miner strikes even though that was an important and incredibly volatile part of her career. I think that if it was chosen to center on those years and that particular problem, in much the same way that last year's The King's Speech chose to focus on the decade leading up to WWII, then we would not only have a film in which we were blown away by a magisterial performance, but we also would have a plot that we could follow and become attached to. I really could not care less about the price of milk, the way she styled her hair, or her trip to the doctor, but that is what this film made most important and it made me very restless in my seat.
Furthermore, this film suffered from the same illness that The Lady did: over-direction. Stock footage, dutch tilts, slow motion, everything that a director has at his disposal (or hers in this case) was used to extremely poor effect. It was badly edited and dramatic bits were pushed to the ridiculous. An overhaul of the script and a completely new director would have been needed in order to make the film that I imagined. The costumes were great and the makeup surprisingly good (a lesser person might say that was because it was written and directed by women....I guess I'm a lesser person), but it takes more than a pretty hat and some good fake jowls to win over this guy. Margaret Thatcher would have known that. I summarize a very good passage of hers where she reproachfully states that people act on feelings rather than thoughts and ideas. How true, Maggie. If one is to create a film about the Iron Lady, then one must show her in the way she wished to be seen: without frilly gimmicks, and with a hard, crisp edge. Only then would the topic have been done justice.
1/4
Meryl Streep is titanic in her performance. There is no doubt of her range and capabilities, and she proves within the first few minutes why she was chosen over other equally qualified British actresses to play one of the most British figures that we in our modern world can remember. It is nearly certain after seeing the many layers of Thatcher revealed unflinchingly by this sorceress of the screen that she will grab her third Oscar, and it may be that this is the highlight of her career. It is certainly a tremendous performance and something to be very proud of.
Director Phyllida Lloyd should then be ashamed at herself for having taken such a powerful story and the actress of actresses and thrown them away. This is a rubbish presentation of a mediocre biopic, told in the most slapdash of fashions and was, if I am being frank, quite ugly to watch.
Told through flashbacks of the delusional Thatcher in her later years, The Iron Lady presents the life of the first and only female prime minister of Great Britain from time spent in the war (young Thatcher was played by an awful Alexandra Roach) until the day that she resigned from office. The structure is held together by two days in her later years where she is trying to clear a dresser of her late husband's things with the help of her daughter (Olivia Colman). As she does she is plagued by the hallucinations of her husband, Denis (Jim Broadbent), which in turn trigger memories from the past.
Why this needed to be so I cannot possibly understand. There was nothing to be gained from a dramatic interpretation of a crazy Thatcher, and I found it tedious and distracting. It was not always entirely clear when the jumps were being made, why they were being made, and what the audience was supposed to gain from having had the experience. There were even times when, although the flashbacks were supposed to move forward chronologically, they jumped backwards. It was confusing and completely pointless. What was most frustrating about them is that they did not focus at all on the important parts of her life that we glimpse in these moments. There is plenty of footage of her talking about campaigning but they never show her doing it. There are moments and lots of dialogue about the struggles she has had being a woman, but they don't fully explore her first day in Parliament or the troubles she had becoming Prime Minister. Streep continuously spouted out lines about being a strong leader, but you seldom saw her doing it. She seemed more like a great bully than a great leader, but it funnily presented her that way in the nicest fashion.
What would have made this film tolerable, good even, would have been to focus the span of time in which it was told. The film glazed over the miner strikes even though that was an important and incredibly volatile part of her career. I think that if it was chosen to center on those years and that particular problem, in much the same way that last year's The King's Speech chose to focus on the decade leading up to WWII, then we would not only have a film in which we were blown away by a magisterial performance, but we also would have a plot that we could follow and become attached to. I really could not care less about the price of milk, the way she styled her hair, or her trip to the doctor, but that is what this film made most important and it made me very restless in my seat.
Furthermore, this film suffered from the same illness that The Lady did: over-direction. Stock footage, dutch tilts, slow motion, everything that a director has at his disposal (or hers in this case) was used to extremely poor effect. It was badly edited and dramatic bits were pushed to the ridiculous. An overhaul of the script and a completely new director would have been needed in order to make the film that I imagined. The costumes were great and the makeup surprisingly good (a lesser person might say that was because it was written and directed by women....I guess I'm a lesser person), but it takes more than a pretty hat and some good fake jowls to win over this guy. Margaret Thatcher would have known that. I summarize a very good passage of hers where she reproachfully states that people act on feelings rather than thoughts and ideas. How true, Maggie. If one is to create a film about the Iron Lady, then one must show her in the way she wished to be seen: without frilly gimmicks, and with a hard, crisp edge. Only then would the topic have been done justice.
1/4
The Artist (2011)
Well here we are at the most talked about film of the year. It is not deep. It is not profound. Those that would complain about that have missed the point. To be deep and profound would have ruined the magic of a considerably charming film and turned away an audience that might have been reluctant to see it to begin with. Being in a packed theatre watching a black and white silent film with everyone from twelve year old boys to eighty year old women and having them all tickled by the comedy, moved by the romance and incensed by the drama--that is movie magic and it is wondrous to behold.
It is the well-worn story of the most famous silent actor of 1927 as he is supplanted by 'talkies' and a fiery newcomer named Peppy Miller (think Singin' in the Rain). By his unwillingness to change and the stock market crash George Valentin loses all he ever had. Almost...
One friendship--that of Peppy Miller--never diminishes, and as he fades into obscurity while she rockets to the top she always seems to be keeping a close eye on him. It's love, and it's beautiful; cinematic in all of the ways that it should be. As George spirals into mania and depression she is the watchful soul, pining after her once idol and now her deep, true love.
This film will be impossible to dislike except by the hardest, meanest, most unfeeling people who automatically begrudge praise on what, by all accounts, should be a niche film. For everyone else who loves to laugh and loves to love The Artist will put a smile on their face and will wrap them in a warm hug of cinematic delight. True, it is not always correct in its technique and absolutely it is gimmicky, but so what? If that young girl sitting next to me giggles at the trained dog, the tap numbers, wiggly eyebrows and all of the other affectionate touches writer/director Michel Hazanavicius puts it then by God I approve!
What you will find in this film is a man who loves the art of cinema. I don't mean the character--though he does too--I mean Hazanavicius. This is not a new story or new characters, but he had some guts to write a great script with a lot of inspiration to bring that love of film to a crowd that might otherwise have gone the entirety of their lives not having seen something like this. When we are right in the midst of a period when films like Avatar and Hugo are validating experiences where one feels they could literally touch a movie, it is amazing to me to see a packed audience ready to see and to read and listen to beautiful music, while always fully aware they will not here a word spoken. Suddenly the past is new again. I do hope that this style of film making does not become a trend. The Artist is bold, fresh, daring and completely uncompromising.
Thus far I think I have made it sound as though this film is more or less exactly like a romance of the 1920's, and opening credits would have you believe it is. But let us be clear and make it noted that this movie knows exactly what and when it is. It came out in 2011, not 1929 and it never pretends to be that way. Very often I was aware that I was watching a contemporary film--a great one at that--and that made the moments of pure homage so enchanting. George is a film actor as I have said, so pay particular attention to the films that he premiers or that he works on. That was Hazanavicius's tip of the hat to a style long dead. What we have after that is a loving tribute, and an affectation of contemporary style which hopes desperately to get that smile and that tear out of its audience.
This is absolutely one of the best films of the year. It is deserving of all of its praise and more. Unknown French actors Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo are beautiful people with beautiful gifts with breathed such life and exuberance into characters that they obviously were very, very fond of. I would impress upon you to see this film if you are only to see one more movie before the awards season gets underway. Bring the family, bring your date, go alone, just see this film. See it and foster a new love for the artistry of a style and generation long forgotten.
4/4
It is the well-worn story of the most famous silent actor of 1927 as he is supplanted by 'talkies' and a fiery newcomer named Peppy Miller (think Singin' in the Rain). By his unwillingness to change and the stock market crash George Valentin loses all he ever had. Almost...
One friendship--that of Peppy Miller--never diminishes, and as he fades into obscurity while she rockets to the top she always seems to be keeping a close eye on him. It's love, and it's beautiful; cinematic in all of the ways that it should be. As George spirals into mania and depression she is the watchful soul, pining after her once idol and now her deep, true love.
This film will be impossible to dislike except by the hardest, meanest, most unfeeling people who automatically begrudge praise on what, by all accounts, should be a niche film. For everyone else who loves to laugh and loves to love The Artist will put a smile on their face and will wrap them in a warm hug of cinematic delight. True, it is not always correct in its technique and absolutely it is gimmicky, but so what? If that young girl sitting next to me giggles at the trained dog, the tap numbers, wiggly eyebrows and all of the other affectionate touches writer/director Michel Hazanavicius puts it then by God I approve!
What you will find in this film is a man who loves the art of cinema. I don't mean the character--though he does too--I mean Hazanavicius. This is not a new story or new characters, but he had some guts to write a great script with a lot of inspiration to bring that love of film to a crowd that might otherwise have gone the entirety of their lives not having seen something like this. When we are right in the midst of a period when films like Avatar and Hugo are validating experiences where one feels they could literally touch a movie, it is amazing to me to see a packed audience ready to see and to read and listen to beautiful music, while always fully aware they will not here a word spoken. Suddenly the past is new again. I do hope that this style of film making does not become a trend. The Artist is bold, fresh, daring and completely uncompromising.
Thus far I think I have made it sound as though this film is more or less exactly like a romance of the 1920's, and opening credits would have you believe it is. But let us be clear and make it noted that this movie knows exactly what and when it is. It came out in 2011, not 1929 and it never pretends to be that way. Very often I was aware that I was watching a contemporary film--a great one at that--and that made the moments of pure homage so enchanting. George is a film actor as I have said, so pay particular attention to the films that he premiers or that he works on. That was Hazanavicius's tip of the hat to a style long dead. What we have after that is a loving tribute, and an affectation of contemporary style which hopes desperately to get that smile and that tear out of its audience.
This is absolutely one of the best films of the year. It is deserving of all of its praise and more. Unknown French actors Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo are beautiful people with beautiful gifts with breathed such life and exuberance into characters that they obviously were very, very fond of. I would impress upon you to see this film if you are only to see one more movie before the awards season gets underway. Bring the family, bring your date, go alone, just see this film. See it and foster a new love for the artistry of a style and generation long forgotten.
4/4
Thursday, January 5, 2012
The Lady (2011)
It is acknowledged that Burma has one of the longest running military regimes and one of the worst human rights records in the world. Their government, run by the generals, is secretive, oppressive, and brutally violent against those that would call for democracy. This is the backdrop of The Lady.
The story is incredibly interesting. Aung San Suu Kyi is the daughter of the late pro-democracy leader Aung San who is considered the father of modern Burma. He was gunned down at the end of the 1940's and Suu fled to the United Kingdom. Marrying an Oxford professor, Michael Aris, she and her husband kept a close eye on the goings on of her country until the violence and oppression became too much for her to stand by quietly. Returning to Burma after learning her mother had a stroke she seized the opportunity to take up her father's cause.
Using Aung Sun's martyr status as a jumping off point Suu, having no political or even public seeking experience, found herself with a support base of hundreds and hundreds of thousands almost immediately. Using the teachings of Gandhi to peacefully demonstrate against the military regime her support grew until it was an undeniable threat to the generals. They placed her under house arrest after other forms of persuasion failed and there she remained for 15 years.
She fought on with the help of her husband back in England and her story did not go unnoticed. Suu won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 and numerous other accolades for her work. Although open elections were held and her party garnered over 80% of seats in Parliament the military still holds a firm grip around the neck of Burma which it shows no signs of relinquishing in the future.
This is the plot, and again it's fascinating. A terrible shame that the movie was awful. Its amateurish script and overly dramatic and sentimental direction made it absolutely impossible to believe the pathos of the characters in a true story that should affect us all. There were possibly three scenes in the entire film in which I was stirred by its images and they were not the ones that I expect the director should have thought. Luc Besson directs--I have not heard of any of the other films that he has done--but he has experience and therefore ought to know better than to force emotions on his audience. I am fully aware that seeing someone shot point-blank in the face is upsetting. I don't need him to tell me it's so.
This might have been forgivable--the actors might have been able to rise above it, at least--had it not been for that script. What a script! What a terribly clunky, awkward, ugly script. The inexperienced and untalented Rebecca Frayn ought to have collected the research for someone with an ear for dialogue to write. It is impossible for an actor, any actor at all, to make something out of nothing. It would be the same as asking da Vinci to paint the Mona Lisa and giving him a broom instead of a paintbrush with which to paint it. It simply cannot be done.
I still do place blame on the actors as well. Excepting Michelle Yeoh as Suu, who is the tremendous actress from Sunshine and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, the acting was just appalling. A tremendously tedious love story was told along side all of the politics with David Thewlis (of the Harry Potter franchise) as Michael. A more contrived set of dialogue could not have been wretched out of what should have been a beautiful relationship, and Thewlis absolutely failed where Yeoh almost did.
When she was not playing opposite garbage--that is when she was Suu the politician--she was radiant and a picture of strength and grace. One moment that particularly touched me was her acceptance of the Nobel Prize. Listening on a portable radio with her maid in Burma she began to play along on a piano to the Vivaldi that the orchestra played following her son's speech on her behalf. That was a genuine bit of acting, unadorned and kept clean of the blackening touch of Besson. That stark simplicity should have run throughout to simply let the story tell itself. The story is enough and Yeoh is capable enough to carry it, but this is a prime example of not letting well enough alone.
1.5/4
*Note: I do hope you will take the time to research this topic. I knew only the tiniest amount and I feel ashamed for it now. Let the Burmese people's story be heard.
The story is incredibly interesting. Aung San Suu Kyi is the daughter of the late pro-democracy leader Aung San who is considered the father of modern Burma. He was gunned down at the end of the 1940's and Suu fled to the United Kingdom. Marrying an Oxford professor, Michael Aris, she and her husband kept a close eye on the goings on of her country until the violence and oppression became too much for her to stand by quietly. Returning to Burma after learning her mother had a stroke she seized the opportunity to take up her father's cause.
Using Aung Sun's martyr status as a jumping off point Suu, having no political or even public seeking experience, found herself with a support base of hundreds and hundreds of thousands almost immediately. Using the teachings of Gandhi to peacefully demonstrate against the military regime her support grew until it was an undeniable threat to the generals. They placed her under house arrest after other forms of persuasion failed and there she remained for 15 years.
She fought on with the help of her husband back in England and her story did not go unnoticed. Suu won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991 and numerous other accolades for her work. Although open elections were held and her party garnered over 80% of seats in Parliament the military still holds a firm grip around the neck of Burma which it shows no signs of relinquishing in the future.
This is the plot, and again it's fascinating. A terrible shame that the movie was awful. Its amateurish script and overly dramatic and sentimental direction made it absolutely impossible to believe the pathos of the characters in a true story that should affect us all. There were possibly three scenes in the entire film in which I was stirred by its images and they were not the ones that I expect the director should have thought. Luc Besson directs--I have not heard of any of the other films that he has done--but he has experience and therefore ought to know better than to force emotions on his audience. I am fully aware that seeing someone shot point-blank in the face is upsetting. I don't need him to tell me it's so.
This might have been forgivable--the actors might have been able to rise above it, at least--had it not been for that script. What a script! What a terribly clunky, awkward, ugly script. The inexperienced and untalented Rebecca Frayn ought to have collected the research for someone with an ear for dialogue to write. It is impossible for an actor, any actor at all, to make something out of nothing. It would be the same as asking da Vinci to paint the Mona Lisa and giving him a broom instead of a paintbrush with which to paint it. It simply cannot be done.
I still do place blame on the actors as well. Excepting Michelle Yeoh as Suu, who is the tremendous actress from Sunshine and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, the acting was just appalling. A tremendously tedious love story was told along side all of the politics with David Thewlis (of the Harry Potter franchise) as Michael. A more contrived set of dialogue could not have been wretched out of what should have been a beautiful relationship, and Thewlis absolutely failed where Yeoh almost did.
When she was not playing opposite garbage--that is when she was Suu the politician--she was radiant and a picture of strength and grace. One moment that particularly touched me was her acceptance of the Nobel Prize. Listening on a portable radio with her maid in Burma she began to play along on a piano to the Vivaldi that the orchestra played following her son's speech on her behalf. That was a genuine bit of acting, unadorned and kept clean of the blackening touch of Besson. That stark simplicity should have run throughout to simply let the story tell itself. The story is enough and Yeoh is capable enough to carry it, but this is a prime example of not letting well enough alone.
1.5/4
*Note: I do hope you will take the time to research this topic. I knew only the tiniest amount and I feel ashamed for it now. Let the Burmese people's story be heard.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)
Let us press on with films based on stage plays. This time it's an Edward Albee play and he is just as fearless as Tennessee Williams. And, like Williams, his work focuses on a war between a man and a woman whose power is so strong that it draws in those around them. It is about self-deception and the damaging power of delusion. Beware George and Martha, their games are not for the faint of heart....
Let us start where the audience starts. George and Martha go walking home from a party where they have all had too much to drink. Martha has invited over a blonde handsome young man and his mousy wife who are new to the faculty of the university where George works at. George doesn't want guests as it is too late, but who is he to contradict Martha? He is spineless. He makes her puke. If he existed she would divorce him. She is, as George would call her, a hyena. She drinks, chain-smokes, tidies up by sticking clothes behind sofa cushions and plates in desk drawers, and she flirts mercilessly with younger men as we shall presently see.
There is something odd and inherently wrong about their relationship. These are two incompatible people and from the start we see them do nothing but throw slanderous words at one another. They haven't even gotten warmed up by the time the guests arrive and already we are shaken. But let's see what the introduction of two newcomers does to the little party.
Nick and Honey. A perfect couple. That is until George and Martha begin prying up the floorboards of their young marriage to see what's underneath. The games for the evening include--but are not limited to--Humiliate the Host, Get the Guests and Hump the Hostess. Every scrap of information is turned into a weapon, not only against Nick and Honey, but towards one another through the kids. Could George and Martha possibly get something out of this? Is this excitement? And has this happened before?
These two characters are unlike anything else in cinema. Their past is so complex and beyond the realm of normal understanding that who these characters have become is such a dizzying labyrinth of secrets and puzzles that I think only Edward Albee himself could tell you exactly who these people are and why they remain together. It is a guarantee that you will not soon forget them. I doubt you could if you tried. Besides being such amazingly intricate characters they are brought to life by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in a way that will make your hair curl. The ferocity with which they speak Albee's lines will shatter your image of the modern husband/wife relationship.
The whole film boils down to a final scene that unnerved me something awful the first time I watched it. Look for clues, but don't look too hard or the surprise will be ruined. I look at people with a little more skepticism after this movie. There are skeletons in everyone's closet and it is impossible to tell those that still have meat on their bones.
4/4
Let us start where the audience starts. George and Martha go walking home from a party where they have all had too much to drink. Martha has invited over a blonde handsome young man and his mousy wife who are new to the faculty of the university where George works at. George doesn't want guests as it is too late, but who is he to contradict Martha? He is spineless. He makes her puke. If he existed she would divorce him. She is, as George would call her, a hyena. She drinks, chain-smokes, tidies up by sticking clothes behind sofa cushions and plates in desk drawers, and she flirts mercilessly with younger men as we shall presently see.
There is something odd and inherently wrong about their relationship. These are two incompatible people and from the start we see them do nothing but throw slanderous words at one another. They haven't even gotten warmed up by the time the guests arrive and already we are shaken. But let's see what the introduction of two newcomers does to the little party.
Nick and Honey. A perfect couple. That is until George and Martha begin prying up the floorboards of their young marriage to see what's underneath. The games for the evening include--but are not limited to--Humiliate the Host, Get the Guests and Hump the Hostess. Every scrap of information is turned into a weapon, not only against Nick and Honey, but towards one another through the kids. Could George and Martha possibly get something out of this? Is this excitement? And has this happened before?
These two characters are unlike anything else in cinema. Their past is so complex and beyond the realm of normal understanding that who these characters have become is such a dizzying labyrinth of secrets and puzzles that I think only Edward Albee himself could tell you exactly who these people are and why they remain together. It is a guarantee that you will not soon forget them. I doubt you could if you tried. Besides being such amazingly intricate characters they are brought to life by Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in a way that will make your hair curl. The ferocity with which they speak Albee's lines will shatter your image of the modern husband/wife relationship.
The whole film boils down to a final scene that unnerved me something awful the first time I watched it. Look for clues, but don't look too hard or the surprise will be ruined. I look at people with a little more skepticism after this movie. There are skeletons in everyone's closet and it is impossible to tell those that still have meat on their bones.
4/4
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
One of my favorite films starring two of my favorite actors with such vivacity that after so many viewings it still remains completely fresh. It is impossible, I should think, to talk about this film without beginning with a talk about Marlon Brando. Of late, I have been watching films with a friend who has little knowledge of cinema outside the realm of Brangelina (not a criticism, of course. Just a fact.). Before this, I introduced him to Casablanca and, by extension, Humphrey Bogart. Bogart has a sophistication, a panache, and something decidedly Hollywood about the way that he moves about and talks. Before watching Streetcar I told this friend of mine to keep Bogart's performance in mind and compare it to Brando as he did not believe when I told him that Brando changed the way that men acted on screen with his portrayal of Stanley Kowalski.
Having seen plenty of films since my last viewing I would say that that statement still holds true. There was not a performance by any actor that I have encountered that brought to the screen such a brutality, a sincerity, and a realism as Brando did to his sweaty, aggressive Pole (not Pollack). I watch him with intensity. He moves about effortlessly as if he actually lived in Stanley's duplex, and knew where everything in every cupboard. Watch him closely and try to spot the points in which he is following direction versus the times in which he simply acts off of impulse. Two in particular: There will be a moment when Stanley in rummaging through bags which are not his. He pulls out a dress with "fine feathers" which go flying. As the camera pans away to follow his wife you will spot him quietly snatching at feathers in the air. The second is a moment in which he tries to console his wife after attacking her sister. As she hides her face against a wall he comes up, strokes her arm and talks softly in her ear. Subconsciously he picks a piece of fuzz off of her back. It isn't forced, it is simply what Stanley would do.
So many actors would have let it all be and simply focused on the task at hand. They would have let the feathers fall and the fuzz remain simply because they would centered on trying to be Stanley Kowalski. But Brando, but the actor beyond all actors is so focused on being Stanley that they have blended into one. He no longer thinks, he simply experiences and it is unparalleled.
But perhaps about the film....
It is 1940's New Orleans and Stella's sister, Blanche DuBois, comes from Mississippi to live with her after losing their estate. Stanley takes an immediate disliking and mistrust to the southern belle schoolteacher with her genteel upbringing and grand prose. He knows there is something amiss long before Blanche's facade begins to crumble. She settles in, she meets a beau, and the storm between her and Stanley rages on. It drives an already fragile mind beyond the brink of sanity, and what remains behind is the tarantula underneath.
Tennessee Williams penned our story, and what a story it is. His writing drips of pomp and wit and eloquence all at once. It is a joy to listen to and, if you should feel so inclined, to read. This, of course, is based off of one of Williams' perfect plays. I only lament that it was not kept in its original form. The story behind the complex creature that is Blanche is far more fascinating than the one that was presented. I feel, however, that if it was kept true it would either have been smeared as unscrupulous or it it would have one every Oscar it was nominated for and would rank as one of the best films of all time. It would have required maybe half a dozen extra lines of dialogue and one scene to be slightly more aggressive--that is its power. But I will leave it to you, reader, to get hold of the play and discover for yourself.
This film also holds the distinct privilege of being directed by its original stage director, Elia Kazan, and stars Brando, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden who were all in the original Broadway cast before it was made into a picture. Vivien Leigh, who played Blanche would later star in the 1949 revival directed by Sir Laurence Olivier. Its cast is stellar, superb, sublime, and any other positive adjective one could think of. The film is quite simply a vehicle for amazing talent to speak the words of the greatest American playwright. It is a masterful work. Long after "The End" fades from the screen you will remember those immortal lines: "Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
4/4
Having seen plenty of films since my last viewing I would say that that statement still holds true. There was not a performance by any actor that I have encountered that brought to the screen such a brutality, a sincerity, and a realism as Brando did to his sweaty, aggressive Pole (not Pollack). I watch him with intensity. He moves about effortlessly as if he actually lived in Stanley's duplex, and knew where everything in every cupboard. Watch him closely and try to spot the points in which he is following direction versus the times in which he simply acts off of impulse. Two in particular: There will be a moment when Stanley in rummaging through bags which are not his. He pulls out a dress with "fine feathers" which go flying. As the camera pans away to follow his wife you will spot him quietly snatching at feathers in the air. The second is a moment in which he tries to console his wife after attacking her sister. As she hides her face against a wall he comes up, strokes her arm and talks softly in her ear. Subconsciously he picks a piece of fuzz off of her back. It isn't forced, it is simply what Stanley would do.
So many actors would have let it all be and simply focused on the task at hand. They would have let the feathers fall and the fuzz remain simply because they would centered on trying to be Stanley Kowalski. But Brando, but the actor beyond all actors is so focused on being Stanley that they have blended into one. He no longer thinks, he simply experiences and it is unparalleled.
But perhaps about the film....
It is 1940's New Orleans and Stella's sister, Blanche DuBois, comes from Mississippi to live with her after losing their estate. Stanley takes an immediate disliking and mistrust to the southern belle schoolteacher with her genteel upbringing and grand prose. He knows there is something amiss long before Blanche's facade begins to crumble. She settles in, she meets a beau, and the storm between her and Stanley rages on. It drives an already fragile mind beyond the brink of sanity, and what remains behind is the tarantula underneath.
Tennessee Williams penned our story, and what a story it is. His writing drips of pomp and wit and eloquence all at once. It is a joy to listen to and, if you should feel so inclined, to read. This, of course, is based off of one of Williams' perfect plays. I only lament that it was not kept in its original form. The story behind the complex creature that is Blanche is far more fascinating than the one that was presented. I feel, however, that if it was kept true it would either have been smeared as unscrupulous or it it would have one every Oscar it was nominated for and would rank as one of the best films of all time. It would have required maybe half a dozen extra lines of dialogue and one scene to be slightly more aggressive--that is its power. But I will leave it to you, reader, to get hold of the play and discover for yourself.
This film also holds the distinct privilege of being directed by its original stage director, Elia Kazan, and stars Brando, Kim Hunter, and Karl Malden who were all in the original Broadway cast before it was made into a picture. Vivien Leigh, who played Blanche would later star in the 1949 revival directed by Sir Laurence Olivier. Its cast is stellar, superb, sublime, and any other positive adjective one could think of. The film is quite simply a vehicle for amazing talent to speak the words of the greatest American playwright. It is a masterful work. Long after "The End" fades from the screen you will remember those immortal lines: "Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
4/4
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