If lies, deceit, struggle, and hardship with a deluded sense of hopeful prospect had a face, then it would be the face of Albert Nobbs. I reveal nothing that the trailer doesn't when I say that Albert is a woman in the guise of man desperately trying to maintain a lie she created in order to deal with the uncompromising work environment of 19th century Ireland. Albert (for I can give her no other name) is a butler in a hotel which caters to the most snobbish of the snobs, the elitist of the elite; a hotel in which tact and presentation means income or the poorhouse for its employees.
Since she was 14, Albert has donned the clothes of men in order to support herself after she was left alone in the world. A brilliant waiter, but a lonely soul, she has scrimped and saved for years in order to better her life and escape what must surely be a self-made prison. The years of secrecy show on her face, but the introduction of one Hubert Page offers her a way out. Hubert leads the same sort of lie, but her life is somehow better than Albert's--she's happy. What's more, she's married.
After getting past the initial strangeness of the setup, I did expect this to be a rather traditionally told narrative. Albert wants to open a tobacco shop. She falls in love with a beautiful, but cold and manipulative kitchen maid. It seemed almost certain to me that Albert would continue to work hard, try to foster this romance, be exploited for her naivety in the face of women, have her heart broken, but with the help of Hubert rise above it and accomplish her dreams.
Typhoid seems to have a mind of its own, though. The story shifted dramatically before arriving at a more somber conclusion with Albert born anew, but people like Nobbs cannot be a part of that frigid world in which she lived.
The story was not terribly absorbing. It seemed rather cliche in some bits and the directing didn't do it many favors in that it milked those moments which had the ability to be milked, but are better off left alone. What was extraordinary, though, were the performances of Glenn Close as Albert, and even more so that of Janet McTeer who played Hubert. In fact, McTeer practically stole this film right from under Close's feet, which is remarkable considering how exceptionally good Close is as an actress.
Of course, I'm not sure it is really fair to compare the two as their characters really are like apples and oranges. Albert is quiet, studious, not particularly engaging, has a thoughtful mind for the future, and is really very uncomfortable in her own skin even though she has told the lie so often she believes it herself (himself?). Hubert fills a room when she enters. She is a towering figure, not well educated, but secure in who she is and why she does what she does. Albert dresses as a man out of fear and security, Hubert because she is love.
I think I must talk about McTeer more, however, because I was quite taken by what she was able to deliver. Her looks, her mannerisms, her posture, her voice--she was so fully convincingly a man that during a scene in which the two of them wore dresses I laughed the way that I would had a seen a man their outfits. She was Hubert, even when exposing her breasts. It was a really astonishing performance, and I find it sad that she isn't even considered the front-runner for this year's Oscar when I feel she should be untouchable compared to the other ladies in her category.
There were several other very good and key actors in this film: Mia Wasikowska, Brendan Gleeson, and Pauline Collins, amongst others. The other themes of class and gender made me think instantly of Robert Altman's "Gosford Park." It certainly seems that it would be preferable to be rich in that day and age--those poorhouses don't sound particularly nice.
I would recommend this film for the amazing gender-bending skills of the two leading ladies. The story, in particular the unnecessary and trite sub-plot romance between a maid and boiler serviceman, really made me restless, and for that I cannot give it a solid recommendation. If I were to watch it again, I'd simply skip to the scenes with Close playing opposite McTeer, because those are the only points were you will find something new and interesting to watch.
2.5/4
Friday, February 24, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
A Dangerous Method (2011)
Four pedantic intellectuals try to out-psychoanalyze one another. The end.
....oh wait. I forgot to make it an hour and half and show Kiera Knightly's breasts.
I suppose I can't really say that these four people are psychoanalyzing one another since the film is somewhat about the birth of the field, but that is essentially how the characters interact. The previews for the film led me to believe that this was going to be about Carl Jung's duplicitous relationship with one of his mental patients. And it was--up to a point. What the previews neglected to show was the intense relations held between Jung and Sigmund Freud as two pioneers into the field of the mind. This movie is halfway between a story of a man using a very troubled woman to explore his own repressed sexual urges, and a brewing storm between two great minds who can do nothing but try to out-think one another and throw about meaningless words.
Judging by the first scene of the film I fell into the trap of thinking it would a complex story about the former point. Michael Fassbender plays Jung, who takes in a new case in 1904, one Sabrina Spielrein (Knightly), a Russian Jew whose repressed sexual urges towards her father make her a wild beast in a woman's form. This was quite the departure for Knightly, though not always a good one. Easily slighted but a brilliant analyst herself, her changes in mood made her violent and destructive. There were moments where Knightly shined and had the capacity to steal the movie, but she bordered so dangerously on the line of overacting that it made it nearly impossible to watch her comfortably.
With quite the opposite problem was Fassbender, whose character was so dull and so confused that I could not reconcile the fact that people kept referring to him as a brilliant thinker. More often than not he was asking clarifying questions and really had little idea of how to go about doing anything. Fassbender is a great actor and I am very excited to see the work that he does in the future, but here he struggled to get beyond a script that kept him static and lost.
As Jung, this feral Russian beauty entices him to betray his wife and take on a mistress where he explores the darker sides of human sexuality. This naturally brings him into contact with Freud, who is played magnificently by Viggo Mortensen as the pompous but egocentric genius of his field, always spotting phallic symbols in dreams and continuously commenting on the actions of humans being driven by sexual urges. A friendship between the two blossoms, but much of the second half of the film is the deterioration of the bond as differences in their work create irreconcilable conflicts. Sabrina gets caught in the war--or perhaps drives it--and suddenly there is a big gooey cerebral mess.
Also thrown in the midst for good measure it Otto Gross (a very good Vincent Cassel), the fourth analyst, a neurotic, and coke-user who was the catalyst for Jung's sudden inhibitions.
By all accounts I should have really enjoyed this film. There were two and half very good performances (maybe bumping it up to three if I give points to Fassbender for his final scene with Knightly) and themes that interest me very much. The production itself was very beautiful with lush costumes and sets, but all the same I found myself checking the time far more often than I usually do. The issue with this was that the drama was very niche oriented and conflicts were solved in passive-aggressive ways. Intense arguments were done via mail half of the time. Now that may be how it actually happened in real life between Jung and Freud, but that doesn't make for very good film-watching.
I think that the script was a bit too wordy for the silver screen, but would have done wonderfully on stage. There were definite moments when I was very aware that conversations were happening specifically to give information to the audience, which is awful. A good writer should never make his presence known. These characters were far too smart to be having some of the conversations that they did in the way that they did, so it was obviously for the benefit of its inept movie-goers.
If I were a film producer I would almost certainly have passed on this script. It was too verbose with too much sitting around. The beginning and the end were well done, but it slogged along in the middle. However, I do think that this could be very successfully translated into a play and that it would do very well within certain audiences--particularly the BDSM crowd.
2/4
....oh wait. I forgot to make it an hour and half and show Kiera Knightly's breasts.
I suppose I can't really say that these four people are psychoanalyzing one another since the film is somewhat about the birth of the field, but that is essentially how the characters interact. The previews for the film led me to believe that this was going to be about Carl Jung's duplicitous relationship with one of his mental patients. And it was--up to a point. What the previews neglected to show was the intense relations held between Jung and Sigmund Freud as two pioneers into the field of the mind. This movie is halfway between a story of a man using a very troubled woman to explore his own repressed sexual urges, and a brewing storm between two great minds who can do nothing but try to out-think one another and throw about meaningless words.
Judging by the first scene of the film I fell into the trap of thinking it would a complex story about the former point. Michael Fassbender plays Jung, who takes in a new case in 1904, one Sabrina Spielrein (Knightly), a Russian Jew whose repressed sexual urges towards her father make her a wild beast in a woman's form. This was quite the departure for Knightly, though not always a good one. Easily slighted but a brilliant analyst herself, her changes in mood made her violent and destructive. There were moments where Knightly shined and had the capacity to steal the movie, but she bordered so dangerously on the line of overacting that it made it nearly impossible to watch her comfortably.
With quite the opposite problem was Fassbender, whose character was so dull and so confused that I could not reconcile the fact that people kept referring to him as a brilliant thinker. More often than not he was asking clarifying questions and really had little idea of how to go about doing anything. Fassbender is a great actor and I am very excited to see the work that he does in the future, but here he struggled to get beyond a script that kept him static and lost.
As Jung, this feral Russian beauty entices him to betray his wife and take on a mistress where he explores the darker sides of human sexuality. This naturally brings him into contact with Freud, who is played magnificently by Viggo Mortensen as the pompous but egocentric genius of his field, always spotting phallic symbols in dreams and continuously commenting on the actions of humans being driven by sexual urges. A friendship between the two blossoms, but much of the second half of the film is the deterioration of the bond as differences in their work create irreconcilable conflicts. Sabrina gets caught in the war--or perhaps drives it--and suddenly there is a big gooey cerebral mess.
Also thrown in the midst for good measure it Otto Gross (a very good Vincent Cassel), the fourth analyst, a neurotic, and coke-user who was the catalyst for Jung's sudden inhibitions.
By all accounts I should have really enjoyed this film. There were two and half very good performances (maybe bumping it up to three if I give points to Fassbender for his final scene with Knightly) and themes that interest me very much. The production itself was very beautiful with lush costumes and sets, but all the same I found myself checking the time far more often than I usually do. The issue with this was that the drama was very niche oriented and conflicts were solved in passive-aggressive ways. Intense arguments were done via mail half of the time. Now that may be how it actually happened in real life between Jung and Freud, but that doesn't make for very good film-watching.
I think that the script was a bit too wordy for the silver screen, but would have done wonderfully on stage. There were definite moments when I was very aware that conversations were happening specifically to give information to the audience, which is awful. A good writer should never make his presence known. These characters were far too smart to be having some of the conversations that they did in the way that they did, so it was obviously for the benefit of its inept movie-goers.
If I were a film producer I would almost certainly have passed on this script. It was too verbose with too much sitting around. The beginning and the end were well done, but it slogged along in the middle. However, I do think that this could be very successfully translated into a play and that it would do very well within certain audiences--particularly the BDSM crowd.
2/4
Sunday, February 19, 2012
His Girl Friday (1940)
Cary Grant is one of the finest comedic actors who has ever graced the silver screen, and one of the only actors who I can safely say has perfect comedic timing (watch some of his other work: Bringing Up Baby, Arsenic and Old Lace) which he employs spectacularly as always in this film. He is joined by the lovely, if slightly more dramatic, Rosalind Russell in a stellar screwball comedy directed by Howard Hawks.
On the eve of an innocent man's execution and a surprise wedding, Walter Burns (Grant) does whatever he can in order to reunite himself with with his ex-wife, Hildy (Russell), before she can run off and marry the schmo, Bruce Baldwin. A newspaper editor by trade, his many connections and lightning-quick mind come up with all sorts of zany plans in order to thwart the impending nuptials. At one point Hildy tells Bruce that nobody does anything before talking to Walter, and that's the gospel truth. Walter's knack for words can convince people to do pretty much anything and would convince Hildy too, if she weren't also a sharp girl with a penchant for journalism.
As in any screwball, dialogue in this film, with some insanely funny one-liners, falls tripping off the tongue, and plot twists with outrageous characters come out of nowhere to add layer after layer of mishap and mayhem. Grant is ideal for such work with charisma to spare, natural goofiness and willingness to take risks. His character will go to almost any lengths in order to secure a story and reclaim his bride including stowing a convict in a desk and getting Bruce arrested.
I did find it odd, though, that there was many serious and almost dark moments to what I expected to be a strict comedy. After all, one of the main parts of the plot is the fact that a man is going to be hanged if Hildy and Bruce can't use the power of the press to garner him sympathy and earn him a reprieve. There are a couple of exceptional bits of dramatic acting revolving around this point. One comes when Hildy interviews the convict in his cell, the other when the imprisoned man's only friend in the world, Mollie Malloy (played by an exceptionally good Helen Mack who made a name for herself in Hollywood as one of cinema's best criers. She had me crying, that's for sure), comes in scold the reporters for writing fake accounts of the man's tale. Of course, people will focus on the outlandish nature of the plot and the snappy dialogue, but it did strike me as a bit disconcerting.
This film is a scathing portrayal of the media and of politicians. Even though both Hildy and Walter are journalists they aren't referred to as "real people," and are shown just a snake-like as the rest of the slimy characters in the press-room. You hate them all, but have a really fun time watching them nonetheless. This is a good little film that should delight all audiences. After all, it's Cary Grant for Christ's sake.
3/4
On the eve of an innocent man's execution and a surprise wedding, Walter Burns (Grant) does whatever he can in order to reunite himself with with his ex-wife, Hildy (Russell), before she can run off and marry the schmo, Bruce Baldwin. A newspaper editor by trade, his many connections and lightning-quick mind come up with all sorts of zany plans in order to thwart the impending nuptials. At one point Hildy tells Bruce that nobody does anything before talking to Walter, and that's the gospel truth. Walter's knack for words can convince people to do pretty much anything and would convince Hildy too, if she weren't also a sharp girl with a penchant for journalism.
As in any screwball, dialogue in this film, with some insanely funny one-liners, falls tripping off the tongue, and plot twists with outrageous characters come out of nowhere to add layer after layer of mishap and mayhem. Grant is ideal for such work with charisma to spare, natural goofiness and willingness to take risks. His character will go to almost any lengths in order to secure a story and reclaim his bride including stowing a convict in a desk and getting Bruce arrested.
I did find it odd, though, that there was many serious and almost dark moments to what I expected to be a strict comedy. After all, one of the main parts of the plot is the fact that a man is going to be hanged if Hildy and Bruce can't use the power of the press to garner him sympathy and earn him a reprieve. There are a couple of exceptional bits of dramatic acting revolving around this point. One comes when Hildy interviews the convict in his cell, the other when the imprisoned man's only friend in the world, Mollie Malloy (played by an exceptionally good Helen Mack who made a name for herself in Hollywood as one of cinema's best criers. She had me crying, that's for sure), comes in scold the reporters for writing fake accounts of the man's tale. Of course, people will focus on the outlandish nature of the plot and the snappy dialogue, but it did strike me as a bit disconcerting.
This film is a scathing portrayal of the media and of politicians. Even though both Hildy and Walter are journalists they aren't referred to as "real people," and are shown just a snake-like as the rest of the slimy characters in the press-room. You hate them all, but have a really fun time watching them nonetheless. This is a good little film that should delight all audiences. After all, it's Cary Grant for Christ's sake.
3/4
Thursday, February 16, 2012
George Washington (2000)
In a very bleak, dead-end town in North Carolina a group of young kids deal with a tragic mistake after one of their friends is accidentally killed. They are extremely poor--one of the clearer pictures of the lower stratum of the United States that I have seen in film--uneducated, and scared. And of course they should be, but this film is more about the bonds of love between friends than it is about grief and guilt, which I think writer/director David Gordon Green had intended.
Our hero and title character is George (Donald Holden). He is quiet with deep, penetrating eyes in which we can see the world, but know nothing about it. George is a hero. He knows this and it affects his manner. Although he speaks little his great purpose is to help others, to save lives. From birth he was cursed with an unusually soft skull which means he has to wear a helmet at all times and is never allowed to go in water. His physical ailments, however, do not deter him from trying to be bigger than himself and his town.
Pining after him is Nasia (Candice Evanofski), who left Buddy (Curtis Cotton III) to be with someone more mature. The joke being that she's thirteen and relationships for her are defined in terms of when two people begin kissing one another. Buddy is resentful of the breakup, especially because George is his best friend (though I doubt the solitary George reciprocates the feelings), but then Buddy does preach sermons wearing a dinosaur mask so maybe Nasia had a valid point. Rounding up their gang are Vernon, a hulking boy who hangs out with the younger crowd probably because he simply can't connect to others his own age, and Sonya, who wears boys clothes, thinks bad thoughts, and is the making of a sociopath if I ever saw one.
As I said a child dies, and this film examines the lengths that this group will go to to conceal the fact, all the while dealing with the despairing guilt that they inadvertently killed one of their closest friends. Spoiler: It's not George. He deals with the fact in the most peculiar way, in that he dons a jersey, a cape, and his helmet and tries to overcompensate with heroism. He succeeds, and it is very uncomfortable watching the way that he handles the praise for saving a life. This film makes the case that people are inherently good. Fear will stifle good judgment, but eventually reason and a desire to heal wounds will lead those astray to correcting the mistakes of the past.
There is something of a small miracle in George Washington. The adults in this film were appallingly bad in their performances (save one, but her screen-time was so small as to be hardly worth mentioning). Along with the gang of kids there is a group of railroad workers that form tentative bonds with the teens. All are played by white, obviously trained stage actors who simply could not deal with the script primarily directed towards those who can naturally speak Ebonics. All of the kids but Sonya are black, and I don't know if it is deep-seeded racism (I hope not) or if they are all simply naturally gifted actors, but these children were unbelievable in the naturalism in which they brought to this film.
I almost wish that the movie did not have the plot that it did, because watching this young cast made up almost exclusively of unknown first-timers was such a joy to simply revel in the ways that they interacted with each other. A good portion of this script seemed improvised, but the ways in which these kids filled and interacted in this space, this hopelessly poor and stagnate place, was so convincing I wanted it to be unending. I think a better film would have been one in which Green dealt more fully in the ways in which these kids handled extreme poverty, violence, and generally the place they live in. There was much to be looked at and I was a bit thrown by the more grandiose messages of the director.
Some of that did come through clearly, and quite beautifully. The movie is held together by the skeleton of Nasia's narration which is lyrical and profound and offers much insight into these characters who are far more complex than they let on. I really wish that Green had taken more chances and completely put his faith into his young actors because they are far more talented than him or their experienced colleagues. The miracle is in the ensemble in its small and touching way.
2.5/4
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Oscars (2012)
And now for something entirely different: I depart from film reviews to tell you, in my 100th post, my views on the 2012 Academy Awards. Let's simply go through the major categories:
Best Original Screenplay: I would give it to Midnight in Paris or Bridesmaids, but I think it will be given to The Artist which will probably sweep this year's ceremony.
Best Adapted Screenplay: The Descendants should take home the glory, but I think it will go to Hugo. That said, all are worthy in my opinion.
Best Supporting Actress: Everything seems to be pretty much wrapped up for Octavia Spencer who played Minny in the crowd-pleasing The Help. It was not my favorite supporting performance--I would definitely give that to rival actress Jessica Chastain, also from The Help, or Berenice Bejo of The Artist, who I believe is being unfairly overlooked. In my opinion the Academy will always tend to vote for racial reasons if they can, and in Spencer they found a prime candidate. Her work was good, but the fact that she was in the film that she was, dealing with the conflicts she did, and because of the shit-pie hilarity she will add an Oscar to her already impressive list of awards. One actress I do feel missed out this year was the lovely Carey Mulligan who could easily have earned her nod from either Shame or Drive.
Best Supporting Actor: This is the category that I know least about having only seen two of the five films for which the actors were nominated. Therefore I go only on hearsay, and I hear people saying that Christopher Plummer is who to place money on. Of the two performances that I have seen, Kenneth Branagh and Jonah Hill, Branagh would of course be my choice. His work as Sir Laurence Olivier was scene-stealing--and he was playing opposite Michelle Williams so that says something. Three performances left out were those by Albert Brooks, Ben Kingsley and Alan Rickman.
Best Actress: Frankly I don't think any of the five nominees are deserving of this year's Oscar. It isn't that they were bad performances at all, but the best actress was flat out snubbed. Tilda Swinton in We Need to Talk About Kevin was incredible as a mother dealing with the aftermath of her homicidal teen's massacre. A more challenging role dealt with more expertly would be hard to find. Of those nominated, however, I would love to see Viola Davis take home the prize. She was rooked out of her award for Doubt, but that won't be the reason that she wins. Before the nominations I expected the fight to be down to her and Swinton, but how her competition is Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher. Although the latter was incredible, Davis is such a careful actress who lives and breathes her role. She needs more chances like The Help to show the world what she can really do because this woman is the next face of acting. For a brief stint it seemed inevitable that Streep would nab her third Oscar, but the results of the SAG have thrown everything askew.
Best Actor: This category is by far the most exciting and the toughest to call. We all know that it will be down to George Clooney in The Descendants and his French counterpart, Jean Dujardin for The Artist. Honestly, I have no idea. Dujardin took home his award at the SAG, but it is undeniable that Clooney was outstanding. I would personally be perfectly happy with either, but I think I would be happier with Clooney. So much about his performance touched my heart. The notable actor left out was Michael Fassbender whose performance in Shame was probably just too shocking. Instead he was replaced with the complete curve-ball, Demian Bichir. I am glad Gary Oldman has finally gotten the recognition he deserved; he is one of the most overlooked actors in Hollywood.
Best Director: If The Artist keeps up this momentum for the next two weeks, which I predict it will, Michel Hazanavicius will take home the gold. Martin Scorsese could be the upset of the evening. Those art-house lovers like myself would of course say Terrence Mallick's work was so new and exciting it would be a shame for it not to get the recognition it deserves, but being nominated is enough, I think. As in Best Picture, Drive was snubbed and I am pissed about it. Thank God for the BAFTA's.
Best Picture: This pretty much follows the Directing category. It's far more interesting to talk about the nominees than to discuss the winners, though. The Academy is now experimenting by allowing anywhere between five and ten films to be chosen. This year the magic number was nine, and that is ridiculous. The mysterious ninth was Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close which was almost universally panned by critics. I would be fine with it being selected had I not felt that there were other films that were better. As it happens, Shame, Drive, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows: Part 2, Albert Nobbs, and Martha Marcy May Marlene can all feel as though the were deliberately overlooked. Nine was the magic number, I think, simply so that it could be shown that it was possible. They easily could have filled that last spot (the last two if you take out Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close), but the Academy instead chose to be shocking and that is not would this award ceremony should be about. I find it infuriating to see great films being left out simply to make a point--and a stupid one at that. But back to the winners: The Artist will probably win, though I wish The Descendants would. However, in twenty years The Tree of Life will be considered the masterpiece of the decade.
I look forward to this year's ceremony and I hope you do too. Happy watching!
Best Original Screenplay: I would give it to Midnight in Paris or Bridesmaids, but I think it will be given to The Artist which will probably sweep this year's ceremony.
Best Adapted Screenplay: The Descendants should take home the glory, but I think it will go to Hugo. That said, all are worthy in my opinion.
Best Supporting Actress: Everything seems to be pretty much wrapped up for Octavia Spencer who played Minny in the crowd-pleasing The Help. It was not my favorite supporting performance--I would definitely give that to rival actress Jessica Chastain, also from The Help, or Berenice Bejo of The Artist, who I believe is being unfairly overlooked. In my opinion the Academy will always tend to vote for racial reasons if they can, and in Spencer they found a prime candidate. Her work was good, but the fact that she was in the film that she was, dealing with the conflicts she did, and because of the shit-pie hilarity she will add an Oscar to her already impressive list of awards. One actress I do feel missed out this year was the lovely Carey Mulligan who could easily have earned her nod from either Shame or Drive.
Best Supporting Actor: This is the category that I know least about having only seen two of the five films for which the actors were nominated. Therefore I go only on hearsay, and I hear people saying that Christopher Plummer is who to place money on. Of the two performances that I have seen, Kenneth Branagh and Jonah Hill, Branagh would of course be my choice. His work as Sir Laurence Olivier was scene-stealing--and he was playing opposite Michelle Williams so that says something. Three performances left out were those by Albert Brooks, Ben Kingsley and Alan Rickman.
Best Actress: Frankly I don't think any of the five nominees are deserving of this year's Oscar. It isn't that they were bad performances at all, but the best actress was flat out snubbed. Tilda Swinton in We Need to Talk About Kevin was incredible as a mother dealing with the aftermath of her homicidal teen's massacre. A more challenging role dealt with more expertly would be hard to find. Of those nominated, however, I would love to see Viola Davis take home the prize. She was rooked out of her award for Doubt, but that won't be the reason that she wins. Before the nominations I expected the fight to be down to her and Swinton, but how her competition is Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher. Although the latter was incredible, Davis is such a careful actress who lives and breathes her role. She needs more chances like The Help to show the world what she can really do because this woman is the next face of acting. For a brief stint it seemed inevitable that Streep would nab her third Oscar, but the results of the SAG have thrown everything askew.
Best Actor: This category is by far the most exciting and the toughest to call. We all know that it will be down to George Clooney in The Descendants and his French counterpart, Jean Dujardin for The Artist. Honestly, I have no idea. Dujardin took home his award at the SAG, but it is undeniable that Clooney was outstanding. I would personally be perfectly happy with either, but I think I would be happier with Clooney. So much about his performance touched my heart. The notable actor left out was Michael Fassbender whose performance in Shame was probably just too shocking. Instead he was replaced with the complete curve-ball, Demian Bichir. I am glad Gary Oldman has finally gotten the recognition he deserved; he is one of the most overlooked actors in Hollywood.
Best Director: If The Artist keeps up this momentum for the next two weeks, which I predict it will, Michel Hazanavicius will take home the gold. Martin Scorsese could be the upset of the evening. Those art-house lovers like myself would of course say Terrence Mallick's work was so new and exciting it would be a shame for it not to get the recognition it deserves, but being nominated is enough, I think. As in Best Picture, Drive was snubbed and I am pissed about it. Thank God for the BAFTA's.
Best Picture: This pretty much follows the Directing category. It's far more interesting to talk about the nominees than to discuss the winners, though. The Academy is now experimenting by allowing anywhere between five and ten films to be chosen. This year the magic number was nine, and that is ridiculous. The mysterious ninth was Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close which was almost universally panned by critics. I would be fine with it being selected had I not felt that there were other films that were better. As it happens, Shame, Drive, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows: Part 2, Albert Nobbs, and Martha Marcy May Marlene can all feel as though the were deliberately overlooked. Nine was the magic number, I think, simply so that it could be shown that it was possible. They easily could have filled that last spot (the last two if you take out Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close), but the Academy instead chose to be shocking and that is not would this award ceremony should be about. I find it infuriating to see great films being left out simply to make a point--and a stupid one at that. But back to the winners: The Artist will probably win, though I wish The Descendants would. However, in twenty years The Tree of Life will be considered the masterpiece of the decade.
I look forward to this year's ceremony and I hope you do too. Happy watching!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Battle Royale (2000)
I hold a very particular set of beliefs about the way that the world functions and governs the ways in which people act with one another. These mostly coincide with Thomas Hobbes' views on the state of nature--an imaginary existence without any culture in which people live short and brutish lives fighting for survival. His beliefs and mine are based on the idea that people are inherently selfish in nature and that all of their actions and interactions can be broken down and dissected on the basis that they are trying to survive. It isn't rocket science and in a superficial way I think will be generally agreed upon.
Koushun Takami wrote a novel tackling these ideas which centers in on a distopian, futuristic Japan in which the government institutes the "Battle Royale," a game show where one class of middle-schoolers each year fight to the death with no prize other than their life. Following the book came a manga series and finally the glorious film adaptation, directed by Kinji Fukasaku.
Science fiction, in my opinion, is done well when our world is tweaked ever so slightly and then all of the ramifications of that change are analyzed. My issue with this film can then be presented right away then: a government cannot simply say we are killing off these kids (or rather letting themselves kill each other off) without good reason. It was justified by grown-ups, as they are always referred to, as retribution for the fact that young people are becoming disrespectful and aggressive. 800,000 students are reported to have abandoned their compulsory schooling. Perhaps that seems criminal in Japanese eyes, but for me that is a bit extreme. And if it is only one class of 42, chosen by lottery, is it simply a deterrent for wrongdoers? That still seems unlikely specifically because they are chosen by lottery. Perhaps I am just expected to suspend my knowledge of our present world and simply accept their scenario as fact. After all, the point of the film is the lengths at which people will go to survive.
Some certainly do try. Nanahara and Noriko are our hero and heroine, later joined by the dangerous and mysteriously gifted Kawada. Given three days on a deserted island 42 must come down to 1, otherwise the collars around each of their neck will detonate. In each of the packs that the student receives they find the necessities for survival including a weapon. Some are more fortunate than others. One kid gets hand grenades, another gets an Uzi. Our friends receive a pair of binoculars and a pan lid. Just as important as staying alive is the ability to get your hands on a suitable weapon.
What I liked very much about the film, besides its sleek production, awesome gore, and fully committed performances by all of the young actors, was the material which looked at all of the different ways that very young kids might handle such a situation. There are those that automatically band together in small gangs, whilst others go off rogue. Some kill wildly out of fear, others find pleasure in it, and still there are those who simply see it as a game of odds that requires a cool head to win. Then there is the other group of people who decide that in order to survive they must sue for peace. Perhaps even try to crack the system? In any event, helping others to help themselves, or simply cutting your best friend's throat still comes back to basic, selfish instincts that humans share with all other beasts.
As important as the fight for survival is the desire for sex. A theme to this film that was very clear was that so much of the action revolved around a boy-girl setting. People killed and died for those they "loved," and friendships turned to betrayal given the same circumstances. True bonds are hard to find, it argues, but given the right setting--and the right amount of crossbows and sickles--one can find where true loyalties lie.
This is a really entertaining, exciting, bloody action-thriller. Fukasaku did some really beautiful work creating a horrifying scenario with great action sequences, the right amount of humor, and did an excellent job of bringing very strong performances out of his actors who were dealing with material which should have proved to be far beyond their capabilities. It's definitely worth a look as long as you can get yourself into the right frame of mind.
3/4
Koushun Takami wrote a novel tackling these ideas which centers in on a distopian, futuristic Japan in which the government institutes the "Battle Royale," a game show where one class of middle-schoolers each year fight to the death with no prize other than their life. Following the book came a manga series and finally the glorious film adaptation, directed by Kinji Fukasaku.
Science fiction, in my opinion, is done well when our world is tweaked ever so slightly and then all of the ramifications of that change are analyzed. My issue with this film can then be presented right away then: a government cannot simply say we are killing off these kids (or rather letting themselves kill each other off) without good reason. It was justified by grown-ups, as they are always referred to, as retribution for the fact that young people are becoming disrespectful and aggressive. 800,000 students are reported to have abandoned their compulsory schooling. Perhaps that seems criminal in Japanese eyes, but for me that is a bit extreme. And if it is only one class of 42, chosen by lottery, is it simply a deterrent for wrongdoers? That still seems unlikely specifically because they are chosen by lottery. Perhaps I am just expected to suspend my knowledge of our present world and simply accept their scenario as fact. After all, the point of the film is the lengths at which people will go to survive.
Some certainly do try. Nanahara and Noriko are our hero and heroine, later joined by the dangerous and mysteriously gifted Kawada. Given three days on a deserted island 42 must come down to 1, otherwise the collars around each of their neck will detonate. In each of the packs that the student receives they find the necessities for survival including a weapon. Some are more fortunate than others. One kid gets hand grenades, another gets an Uzi. Our friends receive a pair of binoculars and a pan lid. Just as important as staying alive is the ability to get your hands on a suitable weapon.
What I liked very much about the film, besides its sleek production, awesome gore, and fully committed performances by all of the young actors, was the material which looked at all of the different ways that very young kids might handle such a situation. There are those that automatically band together in small gangs, whilst others go off rogue. Some kill wildly out of fear, others find pleasure in it, and still there are those who simply see it as a game of odds that requires a cool head to win. Then there is the other group of people who decide that in order to survive they must sue for peace. Perhaps even try to crack the system? In any event, helping others to help themselves, or simply cutting your best friend's throat still comes back to basic, selfish instincts that humans share with all other beasts.
As important as the fight for survival is the desire for sex. A theme to this film that was very clear was that so much of the action revolved around a boy-girl setting. People killed and died for those they "loved," and friendships turned to betrayal given the same circumstances. True bonds are hard to find, it argues, but given the right setting--and the right amount of crossbows and sickles--one can find where true loyalties lie.
This is a really entertaining, exciting, bloody action-thriller. Fukasaku did some really beautiful work creating a horrifying scenario with great action sequences, the right amount of humor, and did an excellent job of bringing very strong performances out of his actors who were dealing with material which should have proved to be far beyond their capabilities. It's definitely worth a look as long as you can get yourself into the right frame of mind.
3/4
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Rosemary's Baby (1968)
It can be hashed and rehashed that the scariest films of all time are not remembered by what they show, but rather what they leave for the mind to fill in. Human beings, in my opinion, are afraid of their own thoughts and their own capabilities. A sense of realism and a lack of information are key components to making an audience scared, as their own imagination is usually more horrifying than that of some uncreative director's. Roman Polanski is the director of Rosemary's Baby and he, better than most, knows the true human condition. Going behind the wheel of a horror film is a not a terrible departure, but why should it be when religion and self-protection are inherent to being human?
For his journey into the macabre we meet Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow). She and her husband Guy (John Cassavetes), a struggling actor, move into a new apartment house next door to two very old, colorful characters. Ruth Gordon (in her Oscar-winning role) and Sidney Blackmer play Minnie and Roman Castevet, nosy but interesting people always willing and eager to lend a helping hand. Rosemary shies away from them, but Guy inexplicably spends lots of time next door with them.
Rosemary and Guy have been trying desperately to have a baby, as well as get Guy's career off of the ground. Their attempts are somewhat disrupted by strange occurrences in their new building. They hear chanting on the other side of their bedroom wall, there is a mysterious suicide, an actor gone blind leaving a fantastic part available for Guy, and a strange gift from the Casavet's. But following a bizarre dream on a yacht filled with naked bodies and an inhuman host Rosemary finds herself with child.
This should be a happy time, and would be were it not for their terrible pain in her stomach and a series of events that lead her more and more to fear for the safety of her child. As the day grows closer her paranoia mounts until she is sure that her baby is to be used for the occult.
This film might feel a little bit displaced where it not for the completely committed performances from its cast, particularly Farrow. I found the script a bit stilted, but the actors were so good at what they did that they found naturalistic acting in an otherwise metallic screenplay. I feel that films dealing with witchcraft tend to be a bit humorous, but the seriousness in which it is presented makes it a thoroughly engaging film to watch. It is slow, very deliberately paced, and so little is shown to suggest things one way or the other, that for most of the film Rosemary straddles the line between reality and lunacy, and we straddle it with her.
Polanski is a wizard at engaging emotions using tight spaces, and this apartment is a claustrophobic hell filled with secrets. His intentions with this film are very odd, and I'm not sure if I have them correct. There seems to be an unusual aversion to age; all of the bad people in Rosemary's eyes are gray-haired and stuck in the past. Nature also seems to be an agent of evil. There is a running motif of plants and herbs throughout: Her name is Rosemary Woodhouse, there are flowers on the wallpaper of the nursery, her husband brings her bouquets to apologize for how distant he has been, the previous owner and the Casavet's both had herb gardens, not to mention Rosemary's milkshakes and her necklace. Perhaps it is his voice on the importance of forward thinking and modernization? If you have a thought let me know because I'm lost....
You will not find a traditional horror film in this. There are no "gotcha" moments or gory bits. This is a film that creeps into the back of your mind to birth new fears of the plausibility of the destructiveness and skewed perspectives of people gone astray and angry at the world. The depravity and the selfishness of this film is where the "horror" comes from, and it is terrifying. This is one of the best horror films of all time.
3.5/4
For his journey into the macabre we meet Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow). She and her husband Guy (John Cassavetes), a struggling actor, move into a new apartment house next door to two very old, colorful characters. Ruth Gordon (in her Oscar-winning role) and Sidney Blackmer play Minnie and Roman Castevet, nosy but interesting people always willing and eager to lend a helping hand. Rosemary shies away from them, but Guy inexplicably spends lots of time next door with them.
Rosemary and Guy have been trying desperately to have a baby, as well as get Guy's career off of the ground. Their attempts are somewhat disrupted by strange occurrences in their new building. They hear chanting on the other side of their bedroom wall, there is a mysterious suicide, an actor gone blind leaving a fantastic part available for Guy, and a strange gift from the Casavet's. But following a bizarre dream on a yacht filled with naked bodies and an inhuman host Rosemary finds herself with child.
This should be a happy time, and would be were it not for their terrible pain in her stomach and a series of events that lead her more and more to fear for the safety of her child. As the day grows closer her paranoia mounts until she is sure that her baby is to be used for the occult.
This film might feel a little bit displaced where it not for the completely committed performances from its cast, particularly Farrow. I found the script a bit stilted, but the actors were so good at what they did that they found naturalistic acting in an otherwise metallic screenplay. I feel that films dealing with witchcraft tend to be a bit humorous, but the seriousness in which it is presented makes it a thoroughly engaging film to watch. It is slow, very deliberately paced, and so little is shown to suggest things one way or the other, that for most of the film Rosemary straddles the line between reality and lunacy, and we straddle it with her.
Polanski is a wizard at engaging emotions using tight spaces, and this apartment is a claustrophobic hell filled with secrets. His intentions with this film are very odd, and I'm not sure if I have them correct. There seems to be an unusual aversion to age; all of the bad people in Rosemary's eyes are gray-haired and stuck in the past. Nature also seems to be an agent of evil. There is a running motif of plants and herbs throughout: Her name is Rosemary Woodhouse, there are flowers on the wallpaper of the nursery, her husband brings her bouquets to apologize for how distant he has been, the previous owner and the Casavet's both had herb gardens, not to mention Rosemary's milkshakes and her necklace. Perhaps it is his voice on the importance of forward thinking and modernization? If you have a thought let me know because I'm lost....
You will not find a traditional horror film in this. There are no "gotcha" moments or gory bits. This is a film that creeps into the back of your mind to birth new fears of the plausibility of the destructiveness and skewed perspectives of people gone astray and angry at the world. The depravity and the selfishness of this film is where the "horror" comes from, and it is terrifying. This is one of the best horror films of all time.
3.5/4
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Moneyball (2011)
Billy Beane was an old, beaten, washed-up, broke, and losing dog--the GM of the Oakland A's circa 2001. He was afflicted with the tightest budgetary constraints of any team in baseball, a measly $30 million. Compare that to the $120 million of the New York Yankees, and it's easy to see how bigger teams could steal star players like Jason Giambi from a team barely limping along. But this old dog hates losing--more than he hates winning, he says--and he certainly learned a few new tricks. Moneyball is based off of the book by Michael Lewis, and is a really remarkable true story of how this man revolutionized the game of baseball, throwing off a hundred years of reliant scout theory to reinvent his team.
Brad Pitt is stellar as Beanes. As a young man he was supposed to be the next big thing in baseball. He was supposed to be the next all-star. But whether by nerves or bad luck he faltered when he entered the major leagues and his name was sponged out. He left the field to become a scout and there he remained for years, helping a ragtag bunch who were last in the American League. His advisers hashed out the same arguments for picking new players and all the while the frustration mounted until Billy couldn't seem to cope with it anymore. He needed something new, and he found it in the face of Peter Brand.
Peter is played by equally (if surprisingly) good Jonah Hill. Brand is a Yale graduate with a degree in economics who fluked his way into baseball. After an embarrassing meeting with some team or another, Beane finds Brand, and taken up with his computer-age, scientific approach to viewing baseball Beane hires him for himself. The way Peter views baseball there is no person at the plate. There is simply a statistic. Old school thinkers would decide on drafting players coming down to things as trivial as the attractiveness of his girlfriend (an ugly girlfriend means he has no confidence). Peter has no interest in that, and soon neither does Billy.
What Billy cares about is getting on base and scoring runs, and it must be done on a budget. Peter uses statistical data to scout out all of the promising athletes, blind to stigmas like age, previous handicaps, whether or not other teams want them, to create a list of players who can get on base. It skirts past the issues of money and politics and hits right at the heart of the matter.
Of course, the experiment succeeded. It would have been a lousy book and a lousier movie had it not. The Oakland A's went from the absolute bottom of the pack to breaking into the history books as being the first team in all of baseball to win 20 consecutive games. Something amazing had to come from this story. I know so little about baseball, but I know about sports films, and this--especially a true story--was amazing. It is the mark of a exceptional film-maker to make a guy like me care about a baseball team, but care I did and very much.
I was nervous when starting this film because I was not sure if this was going to be a baseball movie or a movie about baseball. I am pleased to report it was squarely in the latter category. This is a film about a desperate man taking desperate measures to try and get the laughing stock of the league some respect. When that goal turns into changing the name of the game, well then things become a little more complicated. Director Bennett Miller (Capote) has done an exemplary job of making the inaccessible--sports jargon and statistical analysis--not only understandable, but exciting. I was so invested by the end in the characters and the team that I was literally out of my seat come those peak moments. This is a really entertaining film with great dialogue and great performances, especially by leads Pitt, Hill, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman who plays the Manager out to challenge Beane's new inspiration. This is one of the best films this year and one of the best sports movies that I have seen.
3.5/4
Brad Pitt is stellar as Beanes. As a young man he was supposed to be the next big thing in baseball. He was supposed to be the next all-star. But whether by nerves or bad luck he faltered when he entered the major leagues and his name was sponged out. He left the field to become a scout and there he remained for years, helping a ragtag bunch who were last in the American League. His advisers hashed out the same arguments for picking new players and all the while the frustration mounted until Billy couldn't seem to cope with it anymore. He needed something new, and he found it in the face of Peter Brand.
Peter is played by equally (if surprisingly) good Jonah Hill. Brand is a Yale graduate with a degree in economics who fluked his way into baseball. After an embarrassing meeting with some team or another, Beane finds Brand, and taken up with his computer-age, scientific approach to viewing baseball Beane hires him for himself. The way Peter views baseball there is no person at the plate. There is simply a statistic. Old school thinkers would decide on drafting players coming down to things as trivial as the attractiveness of his girlfriend (an ugly girlfriend means he has no confidence). Peter has no interest in that, and soon neither does Billy.
What Billy cares about is getting on base and scoring runs, and it must be done on a budget. Peter uses statistical data to scout out all of the promising athletes, blind to stigmas like age, previous handicaps, whether or not other teams want them, to create a list of players who can get on base. It skirts past the issues of money and politics and hits right at the heart of the matter.
Of course, the experiment succeeded. It would have been a lousy book and a lousier movie had it not. The Oakland A's went from the absolute bottom of the pack to breaking into the history books as being the first team in all of baseball to win 20 consecutive games. Something amazing had to come from this story. I know so little about baseball, but I know about sports films, and this--especially a true story--was amazing. It is the mark of a exceptional film-maker to make a guy like me care about a baseball team, but care I did and very much.
I was nervous when starting this film because I was not sure if this was going to be a baseball movie or a movie about baseball. I am pleased to report it was squarely in the latter category. This is a film about a desperate man taking desperate measures to try and get the laughing stock of the league some respect. When that goal turns into changing the name of the game, well then things become a little more complicated. Director Bennett Miller (Capote) has done an exemplary job of making the inaccessible--sports jargon and statistical analysis--not only understandable, but exciting. I was so invested by the end in the characters and the team that I was literally out of my seat come those peak moments. This is a really entertaining film with great dialogue and great performances, especially by leads Pitt, Hill, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman who plays the Manager out to challenge Beane's new inspiration. This is one of the best films this year and one of the best sports movies that I have seen.
3.5/4
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