War and romance are beautifully interwoven in this, one of the most well-regarded films about the First World War and the very first Best Picture Oscar winner. A cast that includes Clara Bow, Charles Rogers, Richard Arlen and a very young Gary Cooper, this silent epic took audiences to the skies in the throws of aerial combat and into the heart of America's "it" girl.
One might have to look pretty hard to see past the blatant American propaganda as the film is something of a big pat on the back for the doughboys (you might be able to see the influence on Quentin Tarantino's film within a film in "Inglorious Basterds"), but if you can, this film can be an emotionally resonant experience. Coming just nine years after the defeat of the Germans, director William A. Wellman might have thought it best to celebrate heroism and cushion the atrocities of the then ugliest war in man's history. It certainly does tackle the horrors of death, but in a glossy, Hollywood fashion.
Jack and David (Rogers and Arlen) are two young men from Smalltown, USA who are conscripted when WAR descends unto America, wreathed in flames. The boys are dragged from crying mothers and their girls--though Jack doesn't realize that Sylvia, the girl he loves, has already fallen for David--and shipped off to France in order to be trained as pilots. Mary (Bow) is left behind to worry about Jack, who is completely oblivious of her affections towards him.
The film turns to Europe where the boys are sent to fight the Kaiser's army and save the continent from itself. The aerial sequences are spectacular; the audience breathlessly zooms through the clouds, shooting down German fighters in dogfight after dogfight, as cameras strapped to the engines of the planes take viewers to the eyes of the pilots. None of the actors knew how to fly a plane before filming began, but by the end they were experts. Many might now feel the strain of watching so much up in the air, but this was revolutionary when it came out and following Charles Lindbergh's flight across the Atlantic, audiences could not get enough of the flying. I, frankly, found it rather exhilarating knowing that one man broke his neck on set and another man died while trying to capture a scene.
While the film might have been marketed around these fight scenes and though they are rather amazing, the story has heart and it revolves around Mary's love of Jack and the very strong friendship (almost homoerotically so) between Jack and David. The heart is ridiculous, stupid, blind and irrational, but one cannot combat the power of love, this film seems to say. Bow uses all of her charm, which is ample, and I must say I've developed a bit of a crush on her. There are great, tender moments from all three leads, not least of all a passionate kiss in a destroyed cottage and Mary's controversial decision regarding a very important notice.
The film probably does not tackle death as bleakly as it should have, and it certainly doesn't address the psychological affects of trench warfare in the way that the far superior "All Quiet on the Western Front" would do three years later, but it is still moving to observe the ways relationships are thrust together and torn apart due to a war that affected people that it had no right touching.
There are better films about this war, but it is clear how much "Wings" would affect future filmmakers. From its great performances to its deft direction to its wonderfully choreographed battles, this is a testament to ingenuity. It's glossy where it shouldn't be for modern audiences and a bit too USA!!!, but its heart is in the right place at all of the right moments.
3.5/4
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)
"Planet of the Apes" starring Charlton Heston is one of the greatest sci-fi films of all time. Its final, iconic scene where George Taylor yells at a half-buried Statue of Liberty and the audience realizes its final twist ending left so much more to be desired. "Rise of the Planet of the Apes", directed by relative newcomer Rupert Wyatt, attempts to fill in those gaps and could have a been a disastrous prequel to a brilliant film. What he has created won't be a classic like its predecessor, but invariably inspiration has a way of leading to good outcomes anyway.
Will Rodman (James Franco) has been working on a drug that will allow the brain to generate its own cells, effectively healing itself. As he states in a board meeting, it will be the end of Alzheimer's, which his father (played by John Lithgow) suffers from. Still in the experimental phase, it is being tested on chimps with unforeseen consequences leading to a super smart ape named Caesar.
As we go along, pieces of the following film chapters begin to emerge and fit into place. Deemed dangerous after a few years of being kept by Will, Caesar is sent to an ape sanctuary where the seeds of rebellion are planted in his head. His mental growth continues, and his resentment grows at well. Abused and neglected, he deems it time for the apes to rise.
There are lots of things to love about this movie, primarily Andy Serkis and the wizards who made him Caesar. No doubt this movie will feel heavily dated in five years, but at the moment the effects are stunning. I listened to an interview with some of the creators of "Shrek" who talked about how difficult it is to correctly make realistic-looking eyes in CGI characters. The sheen of them has to look just right in order for them not to look creepy and lifeless (which is one of the reasons why Pixar tends to avoid human characters). In this film our main character is a highly intelligent ape who can't speak, therefore much of what we learn about him comes from his body language and from his eyes. We all know that Serkis's physicality is amazing after seeing him so many times as Gollum and Kong, but the facial expressions he gives--how well we are able to know a computer generated creature through his face is absolutely amazing.
There certainly is action in the film so idiot, gorilla-like men should enjoy it well enough, but the best moments of the movie come in quiet and stillness where we are left contemplating what it would be like to be a complete and total outsider. Caesar surpasses eight year old children in intellect when he is a year and a half. Soon he is nearly the equal to Will himself. The genius of him being unable to speak is that we as the audience are forced to engage with the movie and with Caesar, to try and empathize with a being too smart to be with his own kind and too primitive to join those that he loves.
Further, the political allegory being told in the monkey sanctuary is fascinating. Knowing that a hierarchy must form in group without written government, watching Caesar's tactics as he appeals to his stupid masses is engaging.
The film's ending is not particularly good and is almost comical in its lack of believability. Of course it has to end in its action-packed grand finale. After all, it's called "Rise of the Planet of the Apes", so we must wait for the uprising. However, a standoff on the Golden Gate Bridge between a hundred apes and a half a dozen police squad cars with one helicopter in the air does not have the air of realism about it that the rest of the film tried desperately to keep.
Also, the issue of what happens to seven billion humans after these apes make there escape is left almost as an afterthought, literally touched on during the credits. Of course this film did not have the time or budget to fully explore that side of the story, but as a human it would have been nice not to have my eventual demise as something unimportant enough to be eclipsed by the name of the executive producer on the right of the screen.
However, these are both rather small issues with a story that is complex and challenging. Solidly written, strongly acted and beautifully shot, this is a worthy companion to its inspiration, even if it can't quite live up to that standard.
3/4
Will Rodman (James Franco) has been working on a drug that will allow the brain to generate its own cells, effectively healing itself. As he states in a board meeting, it will be the end of Alzheimer's, which his father (played by John Lithgow) suffers from. Still in the experimental phase, it is being tested on chimps with unforeseen consequences leading to a super smart ape named Caesar.
As we go along, pieces of the following film chapters begin to emerge and fit into place. Deemed dangerous after a few years of being kept by Will, Caesar is sent to an ape sanctuary where the seeds of rebellion are planted in his head. His mental growth continues, and his resentment grows at well. Abused and neglected, he deems it time for the apes to rise.
There are lots of things to love about this movie, primarily Andy Serkis and the wizards who made him Caesar. No doubt this movie will feel heavily dated in five years, but at the moment the effects are stunning. I listened to an interview with some of the creators of "Shrek" who talked about how difficult it is to correctly make realistic-looking eyes in CGI characters. The sheen of them has to look just right in order for them not to look creepy and lifeless (which is one of the reasons why Pixar tends to avoid human characters). In this film our main character is a highly intelligent ape who can't speak, therefore much of what we learn about him comes from his body language and from his eyes. We all know that Serkis's physicality is amazing after seeing him so many times as Gollum and Kong, but the facial expressions he gives--how well we are able to know a computer generated creature through his face is absolutely amazing.
There certainly is action in the film so idiot, gorilla-like men should enjoy it well enough, but the best moments of the movie come in quiet and stillness where we are left contemplating what it would be like to be a complete and total outsider. Caesar surpasses eight year old children in intellect when he is a year and a half. Soon he is nearly the equal to Will himself. The genius of him being unable to speak is that we as the audience are forced to engage with the movie and with Caesar, to try and empathize with a being too smart to be with his own kind and too primitive to join those that he loves.
Further, the political allegory being told in the monkey sanctuary is fascinating. Knowing that a hierarchy must form in group without written government, watching Caesar's tactics as he appeals to his stupid masses is engaging.
The film's ending is not particularly good and is almost comical in its lack of believability. Of course it has to end in its action-packed grand finale. After all, it's called "Rise of the Planet of the Apes", so we must wait for the uprising. However, a standoff on the Golden Gate Bridge between a hundred apes and a half a dozen police squad cars with one helicopter in the air does not have the air of realism about it that the rest of the film tried desperately to keep.
Also, the issue of what happens to seven billion humans after these apes make there escape is left almost as an afterthought, literally touched on during the credits. Of course this film did not have the time or budget to fully explore that side of the story, but as a human it would have been nice not to have my eventual demise as something unimportant enough to be eclipsed by the name of the executive producer on the right of the screen.
However, these are both rather small issues with a story that is complex and challenging. Solidly written, strongly acted and beautifully shot, this is a worthy companion to its inspiration, even if it can't quite live up to that standard.
3/4
Saturday, September 22, 2012
God Bless America (2011)
Joel Murray and Tara Lynne Barr play a pair of my new favorite anti-heroes in the most deliciously gratifying film of 2011. In a mad, mad, mad world, these two head out on a Bonnie and Clyde-esque mission to rid the United States of the vilest, most nauseating people ever to be birthed from unlucky wombs: pop-culture celebrities.
"God Bless America" is not an especially great film; its acting, particularly Murray, is mediocre and at times annoyingly unchanging, the writing is angry and inspired, but unfortunately is nothing profound or realistic, and the plot is overly simplistic yet drawn out. These descriptions would probably push most people to stop reading, but note that I strongly recommend this film as a sheer guilty-pleasure and not as great cinema.
Now that the disclaimer is out of the way let's crack on with all of the gory savoriness. Murray plays Frank, a middle-aged nobody living an unremarkable life. A divorcee with a daughter who would rather play her Nintendo than visit him, Frank is left with his miserable little job, his miserable little car and his miserable little apartment. Sad and alone, Frank surfs aimlessly through television channels and is constantly bombarded with programs like Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, American Idol, Jackass, My Super Sweet Sixteen and all of the inane drivel that you and I (hopefully) suffer through when we switch on. The commercials are for energy drinks, the news shows hatemongers; everything he sees in the media or in the street or at the office leads Frank to proclaim that our nation has lost its "decency".
Finally fed up of a nation in which we prize the idiots of the world and would rather tweet than have a meaningful conversation, Frank decides to kill himself. In a stroke of inspiration, however, having nothing to lose he chooses instead to kill one of the "stars" of My Super Sweet Sixteen. He is spotted by an outcast girl, Roxy, who begs to join him on his quest to kill all of the people who make America so shameful, and so their adventure begins.
There is very little else to the story, and it's pretty obvious that there are only two possible outcomes for the film, but that doesn't make it any less fun. Secretly--or probably not to secretly--I found myself jealous of their vigilante escapades and more angry and ashamed of the life I live. Every time a head splattered it was exhilarating to the most pretentious parts of my brain.
One really cannot justify an hour and forty-five minutes of this when in reality this story and these characters should be nothing more than a subplot, but it was so nice to finally see everything that I hate condensed into one small unit and finally blown apart. For many, they will find themselves embarrassed for falling victim to a routine of being sucked into a brainless technical age (that's a fun oxymoron), but for the rest of us it will be happy daydream for a promising future of people having their own thoughts once again and not high-fiving because they have had them.
2.5/4
"God Bless America" is not an especially great film; its acting, particularly Murray, is mediocre and at times annoyingly unchanging, the writing is angry and inspired, but unfortunately is nothing profound or realistic, and the plot is overly simplistic yet drawn out. These descriptions would probably push most people to stop reading, but note that I strongly recommend this film as a sheer guilty-pleasure and not as great cinema.
Now that the disclaimer is out of the way let's crack on with all of the gory savoriness. Murray plays Frank, a middle-aged nobody living an unremarkable life. A divorcee with a daughter who would rather play her Nintendo than visit him, Frank is left with his miserable little job, his miserable little car and his miserable little apartment. Sad and alone, Frank surfs aimlessly through television channels and is constantly bombarded with programs like Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives, American Idol, Jackass, My Super Sweet Sixteen and all of the inane drivel that you and I (hopefully) suffer through when we switch on. The commercials are for energy drinks, the news shows hatemongers; everything he sees in the media or in the street or at the office leads Frank to proclaim that our nation has lost its "decency".
Finally fed up of a nation in which we prize the idiots of the world and would rather tweet than have a meaningful conversation, Frank decides to kill himself. In a stroke of inspiration, however, having nothing to lose he chooses instead to kill one of the "stars" of My Super Sweet Sixteen. He is spotted by an outcast girl, Roxy, who begs to join him on his quest to kill all of the people who make America so shameful, and so their adventure begins.
There is very little else to the story, and it's pretty obvious that there are only two possible outcomes for the film, but that doesn't make it any less fun. Secretly--or probably not to secretly--I found myself jealous of their vigilante escapades and more angry and ashamed of the life I live. Every time a head splattered it was exhilarating to the most pretentious parts of my brain.
One really cannot justify an hour and forty-five minutes of this when in reality this story and these characters should be nothing more than a subplot, but it was so nice to finally see everything that I hate condensed into one small unit and finally blown apart. For many, they will find themselves embarrassed for falling victim to a routine of being sucked into a brainless technical age (that's a fun oxymoron), but for the rest of us it will be happy daydream for a promising future of people having their own thoughts once again and not high-fiving because they have had them.
2.5/4
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Persuasion (2007)
Even when most all of Jane Austin's stories revolve around the politics of marriage and birth, I still cannot help but find them completely intriguing. There is something fascinating about watching Austen's women struggle between doing what is expected of them and marrying smartly to preserve name or fortune, and following their heart. It seems a bit sappy at first, but her heroines are so often people we want to succeed that we forgive her schoolgirl fantasies.
Again, this is made-for-TV film, but unlike "Northanger Abbey" it has none of the feelings of cheap and quickly made film. Quite the opposite, this is a lush and beautifully paced movie about an outsider rekindling a love lost when all hope seems gone. Without money, home, a name of repute and a relationship dead, killed by society for eight years, there seems nothing left for Anne Elliot except memories and her journal with regards to Capt. Wentworth.
Set in Bath, time grows short for Anne, whom providence has thrown in Wentworth's path again. A subtle glance, a bow of the head, a murmur of an introduction is all we need to know they love each other, even if it is unspoken. But a handsome, decorated naval man who has made his fortune in Spanish gold cannot go unnoticed for long, and suddenly the captain has become the prize of several eligible young women. Not only this, but Anne, too, finds herself being sought after by her cousin, William.
Everything in this story is about missed connections, misinterpreted words and letters too late. The people who surround Anne are false and full of flattery, but it is in her quiet, steadfast way that the audience observes and is distanced from them. Sally Hawkins plays Anne and gives a superb performance. So fully has she captured the essence of a martyr of fate, that lonely despondency in her eyes that even the smallest interactions become important for the audience. I did not realize until the end how fully I wanted Anne to succeed and find happiness, and from then I was quite taken aback at how well Hawkins did her job.
Other actors did fine work as well. Rupert Penry-Jones as the captain was nondescript, but Tobias Menzies as the duplicitous, charming yet slimy William was the strength of the male actors. Alice Kridge and Julia Davis as Anne's godmother and hypochondriac sister, respectively, rounded out Anne's rather quiet existence by giving her life meaning and substance.
The film as a whole is slow and delicate. Watching it is like touching lace or porcelain; a crescendo would shatter it or tear it to bits, so it never achieves anything more than the slightest amplification of itself. There is so little forced in it that we are allowed to become fully invested in our well-written characters which I am very happy for. Costumes, sets and lovely cinematography give the movie the feeling that it was done in watercolors, a slight, yet touching little work of romantic art.
3.5/4
Again, this is made-for-TV film, but unlike "Northanger Abbey" it has none of the feelings of cheap and quickly made film. Quite the opposite, this is a lush and beautifully paced movie about an outsider rekindling a love lost when all hope seems gone. Without money, home, a name of repute and a relationship dead, killed by society for eight years, there seems nothing left for Anne Elliot except memories and her journal with regards to Capt. Wentworth.
Set in Bath, time grows short for Anne, whom providence has thrown in Wentworth's path again. A subtle glance, a bow of the head, a murmur of an introduction is all we need to know they love each other, even if it is unspoken. But a handsome, decorated naval man who has made his fortune in Spanish gold cannot go unnoticed for long, and suddenly the captain has become the prize of several eligible young women. Not only this, but Anne, too, finds herself being sought after by her cousin, William.
Everything in this story is about missed connections, misinterpreted words and letters too late. The people who surround Anne are false and full of flattery, but it is in her quiet, steadfast way that the audience observes and is distanced from them. Sally Hawkins plays Anne and gives a superb performance. So fully has she captured the essence of a martyr of fate, that lonely despondency in her eyes that even the smallest interactions become important for the audience. I did not realize until the end how fully I wanted Anne to succeed and find happiness, and from then I was quite taken aback at how well Hawkins did her job.
Other actors did fine work as well. Rupert Penry-Jones as the captain was nondescript, but Tobias Menzies as the duplicitous, charming yet slimy William was the strength of the male actors. Alice Kridge and Julia Davis as Anne's godmother and hypochondriac sister, respectively, rounded out Anne's rather quiet existence by giving her life meaning and substance.
The film as a whole is slow and delicate. Watching it is like touching lace or porcelain; a crescendo would shatter it or tear it to bits, so it never achieves anything more than the slightest amplification of itself. There is so little forced in it that we are allowed to become fully invested in our well-written characters which I am very happy for. Costumes, sets and lovely cinematography give the movie the feeling that it was done in watercolors, a slight, yet touching little work of romantic art.
3.5/4
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Northanger Abbey (2007)
Because I spent the last year living in Bath, England and because "Sense and Sensibility" is one of my favorite films, a friend of mine recommended that I watch the Masterpiece Theatre's production of "Northanger Abbey". I don't normally review TV films and the production values did throw me for a little bit, but I was pleasantly surprised to watch a well-acted (if slightly underwhelming) version of Jane Austen's gothic romance novel.
Full of ghosts, vampires and mysterious men, our story follows Catherine Morland, a young, bookish girl who is invited to Bath for seemingly no other purpose than to rub elbows and flirt with strangers. Growing up in a family without money or name, Catherine's time in Bath becomes something of an awakening for her, where all of the romance novels she pours herself into seem to materialize around her.
She is immediately taken in by two circles of people: Isabella (played by the always lovely Carey Mulligan) becomes her closest friend and confidant, with her brother, James, who doesn't seem to take a hint. Catherine also meets the Tilney's, Henry and Eleanor, who are suave, genteel and possibly not at all what they seem.
Austen's story is of this young girl and how her eyes are opened to the fact that love is not all that her books make it out to be, and that politics plays a much larger part in marriage. Bath is the hideaway for rich, London folk, and in Bath having a good time walks hand in hand with being cunning. All of this is encapsulated with a holiday to Northanger Abbey, home of the Tilney's, where she finds that even though her overactive imagination may get the better of her, there are indeed monsters walking among us.
There isn't anything new or particularly interesting to be gained from this film. It seemed more to me to be a play set off of a stage, but Felicity Jones as Catherine and JJ Field as Henry give strong performances and the story is interesting enough to keep one watching.
That said, the story could have done with making Catherine's fantasies more dreamlike and ethereal; there was very little done to make the audience believe that this girl is absolutely enamored with her stories and that her hopelessly romantic heart is susceptible to flights of fancy. Also, it was painfully clear that this movie was not filmed in Bath. After doing some research I learned it was all shot in Ireland, and that's fine, but Bath has such a unique look that the filmmakers decided to disguise the fact that it was shot elsewhere by never using establishing shots to set locations. Because of this, the film felt clipped and rather claustrophobic. All of the shots in Bath Centre were filmed in one general location which became very noticeable after a time. It's a recognizable town, and if it was primarily made for a British audience I'm sure I would not be only one to notice.
Crimes of the heart are the worst, Henry tells Catherine. That's a lie, but an endearing one. This is not one of the most interesting Austen adaptations, nor is it a very engrossing film, but it's nice to watch if you have nothing better to do, and perhaps it will lead to you having your own flight of fancy with a dashing man full of secrets.
2/4
Full of ghosts, vampires and mysterious men, our story follows Catherine Morland, a young, bookish girl who is invited to Bath for seemingly no other purpose than to rub elbows and flirt with strangers. Growing up in a family without money or name, Catherine's time in Bath becomes something of an awakening for her, where all of the romance novels she pours herself into seem to materialize around her.
She is immediately taken in by two circles of people: Isabella (played by the always lovely Carey Mulligan) becomes her closest friend and confidant, with her brother, James, who doesn't seem to take a hint. Catherine also meets the Tilney's, Henry and Eleanor, who are suave, genteel and possibly not at all what they seem.
Austen's story is of this young girl and how her eyes are opened to the fact that love is not all that her books make it out to be, and that politics plays a much larger part in marriage. Bath is the hideaway for rich, London folk, and in Bath having a good time walks hand in hand with being cunning. All of this is encapsulated with a holiday to Northanger Abbey, home of the Tilney's, where she finds that even though her overactive imagination may get the better of her, there are indeed monsters walking among us.
There isn't anything new or particularly interesting to be gained from this film. It seemed more to me to be a play set off of a stage, but Felicity Jones as Catherine and JJ Field as Henry give strong performances and the story is interesting enough to keep one watching.
That said, the story could have done with making Catherine's fantasies more dreamlike and ethereal; there was very little done to make the audience believe that this girl is absolutely enamored with her stories and that her hopelessly romantic heart is susceptible to flights of fancy. Also, it was painfully clear that this movie was not filmed in Bath. After doing some research I learned it was all shot in Ireland, and that's fine, but Bath has such a unique look that the filmmakers decided to disguise the fact that it was shot elsewhere by never using establishing shots to set locations. Because of this, the film felt clipped and rather claustrophobic. All of the shots in Bath Centre were filmed in one general location which became very noticeable after a time. It's a recognizable town, and if it was primarily made for a British audience I'm sure I would not be only one to notice.
Crimes of the heart are the worst, Henry tells Catherine. That's a lie, but an endearing one. This is not one of the most interesting Austen adaptations, nor is it a very engrossing film, but it's nice to watch if you have nothing better to do, and perhaps it will lead to you having your own flight of fancy with a dashing man full of secrets.
2/4
Friday, September 14, 2012
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011)
Directed by: Stephen Daldry
Written by: Eric Roth
Starring: Thomas Horn, Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Max von Sydow, Viola Davis
Rated: PG-13
I have always been embarrassed when people talk about 11 September and what they felt when the Towers collapsed. They almost invariably say that it was crystallized in their memory as the most significant event that they have lived through. It probably is the most important thing that has occurred in my lifetime and the morning of 9/11 is imprinted in my mind, but I regret to say I was unmoved by the events. I was, in fact, unaware of what actually happened for three days, and was still unclear as to what was fully going on until months later. What happened brought our nation together, and although I am not exactly a patriot I do strongly believe in life, liberty and the pursuit of property. I do not believe in God, but I celebrate the ability to follow a faith and to practice free speech. Above all, I value a feeling of security in one's life and a person's authority to think for themselves.
A film about a child's grief following his father's death in 9/11 should hold these values true too, and in a way the content of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close does that, but Stephen Daldry's unduly invasive direction manipulates the moods and emotions of the film so completely that the audience is never allowed to experience the movie; they are dragged involuntarily through his over-worked vision, and it is because I was not allowed to think or feel for myself that I hate his product.
Newcomer Thomas Horn is given the weighty role of Oskar Schell, a nine-year-old renaissance prodigy who, while trying to cling to the memory of his dead father (Tom Hanks), discovers a world without reason which stands contrary to his logical mind. While rummaging through his father's closet, Oskar happens upon a mysterious key in an envelope with the word "Black" scrawled on the front. Believing this to be one of the many intellectual quests that he played with his dad he sets out to discover its meaning. Assuming that the word could only be a name, he decides to meet everyone named Black in New York City in order to find the lock that would fit his key.
Oskar sets aside six minutes for each visit, but they always take far too long and of course he doesn't immediately gain the information he needs. We know, however, that if the key is a part of some elaborate game then the point is not the end result. Oskar is an insufferable whelp of child, and I'm not sure how anyone could tolerate his presence for more than a couple of minutes. Being deficient in the realm of human interaction, this journey would simply be for him to meet the people of New York. For the audience, however, it is a way to glimpse the many lives of those affected by what he calls "The Worst Day".
You may laugh at times in this movie, and if you have a heart you most certainly will cry, but it is only because that is what Daldry wants you to do. Like his pretentious, annoyingly eccentric and wordy protagonist, the film is wrought with so many quirks and such grand heavy-handedness that it blazes across the dividing line from being artistic to just plain obnoxious. Because of the material, it is difficult not to be moved and there are certainly scenes which a very powerful, but these appeared to be the ones where Daldry had the least to say.
There is a wealth of fine supporting actors, some of them doing tremendous work including Sandra Bullock as Oskar's mother, Viola Davis as Abby Black, and particularly Max von Sydow as the mysterious mute renter living with his grandmother. They float in and out of Oskar's life giving him knowledge that can't be found in an index or on a map.
All of them are overshadowed by Horn's miserable acting, unfortunately. He is a new actor, and that's fair enough, but this story is about the people of New York. It is understood that there needed to be a plot, flimsy as it was, to draw together these snapshots of an immense web of individuals, but that almost became irrelevant to one troubled boy's inability to make peace with himself. Not only was most of the story a repetition of the same scenarios, we also had to listen to corny narration where Oskar describes what we watch and tries to inspire us about the world we live in. A film should be revelatory, not a blunt hammer to the skull.
So often I wished for a new encounter with supporting character, caricatured though they were (it seems every person in New York is peculiar, one-dimensional and incredibly unique--a cross-dresser, for example, or an equestrienne), for at least it would give us a break from listening to Horn's clipped, precise, stage-like and effeminate speech (not to mention that infernal tambourine he incessantly bangs on), and present us with a seasoned actor doing fine work.
It was quite clear that writer Eric Wroth enjoyed Jonathan Safran Foer's novel from which this was based. Although I haven't read it, the dialogue seems to be very much intact, little of it having been adapted to be pleasant to the ear. This was a terribly long two hours and one of the worst films the Academy has ever honored with a Best Picture nomination. Gracious though they were to a film about a reprehensible attack, undue praise was attached to it at the expense of "Drive", "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Pt. 2" and "Albert Nobbs". Fast forward to the small scenes with the aforementioned actors, skip the rest, and puzzle your way out of my own logic question: why didn't his mother simply send him to grief counselling and spare us all the trouble?
0.5/4
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Punch-Drunk Love (2002)
As far as I can recollect, there have only been two films that have made me almost physically uncomfortable while watching them. "We Need to Talk About Kevin" was one of them, and PT Anderson's "Punch-Drunk Love" can now be added to that very small list.
It calls itself a romance and a comedy; it was romantic and there certainly were bemusing moments in it, but I'm not at all sure I enjoyed what I was watching--amidst my urges to punch a wall and cry uncontrollably. I suppose that if a director was able to elicit reactions that strong from me then his film can be called nothing other than a success, but whether or not it achieved what it wanted to is up for debate.
Adam Sandler surprised me endlessly with a passionate and at times touching performance as Barry Egan, a small-business owner who has been dealt a bad hand in life, but finds happiness in a harmonium and a peculiar English girl. Prone to fits of intense physical violence, the normally quiet and painfully shy man makes bad choices in attempts to find companionship in people other than his horribly cruel and sadistic family.
Sporting a new, tacky blue suit to impress strangers and buying thousands of dollars of pudding cups for the frequent flyer miles he's racking up, brings him nothing but jeers and disappointment. A sad, beautiful scene shows him talking to a phone-sex operator, trying to reach out to an anonymous woman simply to have a normal conversation. This woman (she calls herself Georgia), it turns out, is a twisted, Mormon scam-artist, trying to steal from "perverts" in order to teach them a lesson. Barry becomes plagued by this woman and her cohorts, which he tries to deal with while managing a odd romance with Lena (Emily Watson).
PT Anderson is the great American auteur, something of the next Kubrick, with his technical mastery and the eclectic material he chooses. There is no doubt that what he chooses to make is always beautiful and interesting, even though sometimes his message is sometimes lost in his own extravagance. I was impressed by his skillful direction, and the wonders that he did with what could have been a simple love story hold him firmly as the most exciting filmmaker working and by far my favorite living director.
At times, however, he brought the audience too close for comfort to the emotions of Barry. Sandler was a fine vehicle for his message. He swam beautifully through this deep and intense character study of a man on the edge, whose depression and weak spine makes him almost completely incapable of normal human interactions. I enjoyed watching that, but when I also feel as though I'm being distanced from the real world I began to understand and almost encourage his violent episodes which is a disturbing place to find oneself.
Anderson does wonders with music in his work. It is never background, and here it is used to heighten the sense of claustrophobia and unease that other people bring Barry. Sometimes I found it so stifling that I wanted to pause the film just so I could breathe. So much of what Anderson's hero goes though is unnecessary and frightening and there is so little relief throughout, that when it seems to emanate from the screen the film becomes less than enjoyable.
Conversely to all that I've said, it is still almost exuberant in its depictions of the simple things in life. I have never felt so lucky to see a man playing a discarded harmonium in my life. I expect that if I were watching this for the first time when it premiered I would be very interested to learn more about its maker. The script is wonderful and Anderson's eye makes it all the more intriguing. As it happens, this is not my first time with his material, but it adds another creative layer to one of the most ingenious directors out there.
While I cannot fully recommend it as entertainment, I can and do appreciate its artistry so I say watch it at your own risk.
2.5/4
It calls itself a romance and a comedy; it was romantic and there certainly were bemusing moments in it, but I'm not at all sure I enjoyed what I was watching--amidst my urges to punch a wall and cry uncontrollably. I suppose that if a director was able to elicit reactions that strong from me then his film can be called nothing other than a success, but whether or not it achieved what it wanted to is up for debate.
Adam Sandler surprised me endlessly with a passionate and at times touching performance as Barry Egan, a small-business owner who has been dealt a bad hand in life, but finds happiness in a harmonium and a peculiar English girl. Prone to fits of intense physical violence, the normally quiet and painfully shy man makes bad choices in attempts to find companionship in people other than his horribly cruel and sadistic family.
Sporting a new, tacky blue suit to impress strangers and buying thousands of dollars of pudding cups for the frequent flyer miles he's racking up, brings him nothing but jeers and disappointment. A sad, beautiful scene shows him talking to a phone-sex operator, trying to reach out to an anonymous woman simply to have a normal conversation. This woman (she calls herself Georgia), it turns out, is a twisted, Mormon scam-artist, trying to steal from "perverts" in order to teach them a lesson. Barry becomes plagued by this woman and her cohorts, which he tries to deal with while managing a odd romance with Lena (Emily Watson).
PT Anderson is the great American auteur, something of the next Kubrick, with his technical mastery and the eclectic material he chooses. There is no doubt that what he chooses to make is always beautiful and interesting, even though sometimes his message is sometimes lost in his own extravagance. I was impressed by his skillful direction, and the wonders that he did with what could have been a simple love story hold him firmly as the most exciting filmmaker working and by far my favorite living director.
At times, however, he brought the audience too close for comfort to the emotions of Barry. Sandler was a fine vehicle for his message. He swam beautifully through this deep and intense character study of a man on the edge, whose depression and weak spine makes him almost completely incapable of normal human interactions. I enjoyed watching that, but when I also feel as though I'm being distanced from the real world I began to understand and almost encourage his violent episodes which is a disturbing place to find oneself.
Anderson does wonders with music in his work. It is never background, and here it is used to heighten the sense of claustrophobia and unease that other people bring Barry. Sometimes I found it so stifling that I wanted to pause the film just so I could breathe. So much of what Anderson's hero goes though is unnecessary and frightening and there is so little relief throughout, that when it seems to emanate from the screen the film becomes less than enjoyable.
Conversely to all that I've said, it is still almost exuberant in its depictions of the simple things in life. I have never felt so lucky to see a man playing a discarded harmonium in my life. I expect that if I were watching this for the first time when it premiered I would be very interested to learn more about its maker. The script is wonderful and Anderson's eye makes it all the more intriguing. As it happens, this is not my first time with his material, but it adds another creative layer to one of the most ingenious directors out there.
While I cannot fully recommend it as entertainment, I can and do appreciate its artistry so I say watch it at your own risk.
2.5/4
Sunday, September 9, 2012
The Men (1950)
There have been many attempts to tackle the issues of shell-shock and the like, to offer "normal" people a chance to sympathize with war veterans and understand the issues they face upon returning home. "The Men" is about paraplegics at a time when the study of paraplegia was a relatively new science. I am automatically disinclined to like this film, just as I dislike most of these types of movies, as I find them to be irrelevant watching for anyone but those who can empathize rather than sympathize.
Marlon Brando makes his first on-screen appearance as ex-GI Ken who, a year after his spine was severed during the war, is still bedridden, depressed in his condition. The doctors tell him he will never walk again and he rebuffs the advances of his once intended wife, Ellen (Teresa Wright). It is a story about how he comes to terms with his condition and the struggles that he faces with his relationship, himself and with society.
Again and again, this film shouts to the audience that we need not pity these men. They are no different than the men they were before the war, and feeling sorry for them does nothing but serve as a hindrance to their progress. It seems to me, however, that although this is a tremendous effort to make these men appear courageous and valiant in their efforts to appear normal, when they continuously talk about bladder control and spinal taps and there are parents who would tell their daughters not to marry a crippled man in the same way they would tell her not to marry a black man, it doesn't seem that there is much else I can do but feel pity.
Brando gives a strong effort to breathe life into a dismally written character. It is praise that could be given to several of the actors here, who were pitted against a blunt and amateurish script. However, Brando, unlike the others, is already offering a caliber of acting unique to him and is a style noticeably different than those he plays opposite against. For instance, watch Everett Sloane as Dr. Brock compared to Brando. Sloane's words are clipped, he uses lots of pre-planned gestures, he plays the idea of a doctor rather than this particular Dr. Brock. His patient, on the other hand, simply seems to be there, a newly crippled person who wandered his way onto a film set. The words he says are not lines, they are thoughts that he vocalizes. It's actually quite startling to see the emergence of a new style of acting materializing right before my eyes.
When Brando is not speaking or moving or being, this is a little chore of a film which offers nothing in the way of substance and may as well be an advert for a disabled persons charity or something. It seems to me to be a waste trying to educate an audience on something they could never fully understand. How is an audience member supposed to know what true emasculation is if they themselves have never had to deal with no longer getting an erection, or use the bathroom by themselves? It's too much a foreign experience for me to fully connect to a character that I wanted to reach and therefore I felt disinterested in the movie.
Apart from a lousy script which talked more about one woman's inadequacies than the men facing real issues, this is an okay movie with one standout performance. I don't hold too much against it personally, but rather this type of plot in general. I would much prefer a story about how these men come to terms with their disabilities together than one where I feel like a worse person for not being more understanding of something that I could never hope to grasp in the first place.
1.5/4
Marlon Brando makes his first on-screen appearance as ex-GI Ken who, a year after his spine was severed during the war, is still bedridden, depressed in his condition. The doctors tell him he will never walk again and he rebuffs the advances of his once intended wife, Ellen (Teresa Wright). It is a story about how he comes to terms with his condition and the struggles that he faces with his relationship, himself and with society.
Again and again, this film shouts to the audience that we need not pity these men. They are no different than the men they were before the war, and feeling sorry for them does nothing but serve as a hindrance to their progress. It seems to me, however, that although this is a tremendous effort to make these men appear courageous and valiant in their efforts to appear normal, when they continuously talk about bladder control and spinal taps and there are parents who would tell their daughters not to marry a crippled man in the same way they would tell her not to marry a black man, it doesn't seem that there is much else I can do but feel pity.
Brando gives a strong effort to breathe life into a dismally written character. It is praise that could be given to several of the actors here, who were pitted against a blunt and amateurish script. However, Brando, unlike the others, is already offering a caliber of acting unique to him and is a style noticeably different than those he plays opposite against. For instance, watch Everett Sloane as Dr. Brock compared to Brando. Sloane's words are clipped, he uses lots of pre-planned gestures, he plays the idea of a doctor rather than this particular Dr. Brock. His patient, on the other hand, simply seems to be there, a newly crippled person who wandered his way onto a film set. The words he says are not lines, they are thoughts that he vocalizes. It's actually quite startling to see the emergence of a new style of acting materializing right before my eyes.
When Brando is not speaking or moving or being, this is a little chore of a film which offers nothing in the way of substance and may as well be an advert for a disabled persons charity or something. It seems to me to be a waste trying to educate an audience on something they could never fully understand. How is an audience member supposed to know what true emasculation is if they themselves have never had to deal with no longer getting an erection, or use the bathroom by themselves? It's too much a foreign experience for me to fully connect to a character that I wanted to reach and therefore I felt disinterested in the movie.
Apart from a lousy script which talked more about one woman's inadequacies than the men facing real issues, this is an okay movie with one standout performance. I don't hold too much against it personally, but rather this type of plot in general. I would much prefer a story about how these men come to terms with their disabilities together than one where I feel like a worse person for not being more understanding of something that I could never hope to grasp in the first place.
1.5/4
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The Wings of the Dove (1997)
Very infrequently a film comes along that shatters my expectations in the way that "The Wings of a Dove" has. It is deceptive in its beauty and its gentle pace, its flowery costumes a mask for a hard-hitting tale of class struggle and a woman who confuses desire for love. Though a costume drama at first glance, the art direction becomes something only worth remarking about far after the credits have rolled.
Helena Bonham Carter gives what is not my favorite role of hers, but her best work nevertheless, as Kate Croy, a destitute woman who has made a leap into a bigger world. Leaving her opium-eating father (Michael Gambon) and her radical journalist lover, Merton (Linus Roache), Kate moves in with her rich, hard, yet oddly accommodating Aunt Maude (Charlotte Rampling). Kate's newness to high society is daunting, but she never flinches a muscle, nor does she show the slightest sign of gratitude toward her aunt.
Everything comes down to money for Kate. Aunt Maude tells her she must never see Merton again lest she be disinherited which she does for a time, but befriending a wealthy, deathly ill American heiress (Alison Elliot), she begins to see a way in which she can get her money and leave a world built high upon false smiles and empty wallets.
Bonham Carter's performance is something haunting and unsettling in its command of the screen. Looking like a 14 year old boy in drag and with eyes liquid and steady, she seems to hold not only the other actors, but the camera itself at attention. She is calculating, manipulative, and wildly jealous, but her perceptiveness and collected presence almost succeed at hiding that she is mentally unhinged inside. What a feat of subtlety to be able to convey shades and moods, depths of emotion more from a slight cock of the head and the quietest shift of tone, than from facial expression or large movement. Everything she does as Kate is exact and correct; her acting is exhilarating, but it is only until about an hour in that one realizes what exactly she is doing and how exceptional it is.
The film is largely a showcase of female performances, and those playing opposite her are very good as well. Elliot in particular as the American heiress, Minnie, does wonderfully exuberant work portraying a woman in love and secretly on her deathbed. There are sublime moments of acting from all major and some minor roles, but one in particular is a confession scene between her and Roache.
Director Iain Softley was gifted with a wonderful cast speaking beautiful dialogue. He was able to bring out the best of all of their qualities and construct something graceful, poetic and slightly disturbing. I had infinite more respect for him come the final scenes of the film than I did through much of the story, for I had no idea the places that his movie would take the audience. When we have a full grasp of the characters the meaning of scenes take on new levels and become far more exciting. It was slow in reaching a point of small greatness, but it got there in the end. This is no typical lover's triangle film and Bonham Carter's final words will chill you to the bone.
4/4
Helena Bonham Carter gives what is not my favorite role of hers, but her best work nevertheless, as Kate Croy, a destitute woman who has made a leap into a bigger world. Leaving her opium-eating father (Michael Gambon) and her radical journalist lover, Merton (Linus Roache), Kate moves in with her rich, hard, yet oddly accommodating Aunt Maude (Charlotte Rampling). Kate's newness to high society is daunting, but she never flinches a muscle, nor does she show the slightest sign of gratitude toward her aunt.
Everything comes down to money for Kate. Aunt Maude tells her she must never see Merton again lest she be disinherited which she does for a time, but befriending a wealthy, deathly ill American heiress (Alison Elliot), she begins to see a way in which she can get her money and leave a world built high upon false smiles and empty wallets.
Bonham Carter's performance is something haunting and unsettling in its command of the screen. Looking like a 14 year old boy in drag and with eyes liquid and steady, she seems to hold not only the other actors, but the camera itself at attention. She is calculating, manipulative, and wildly jealous, but her perceptiveness and collected presence almost succeed at hiding that she is mentally unhinged inside. What a feat of subtlety to be able to convey shades and moods, depths of emotion more from a slight cock of the head and the quietest shift of tone, than from facial expression or large movement. Everything she does as Kate is exact and correct; her acting is exhilarating, but it is only until about an hour in that one realizes what exactly she is doing and how exceptional it is.
The film is largely a showcase of female performances, and those playing opposite her are very good as well. Elliot in particular as the American heiress, Minnie, does wonderfully exuberant work portraying a woman in love and secretly on her deathbed. There are sublime moments of acting from all major and some minor roles, but one in particular is a confession scene between her and Roache.
Director Iain Softley was gifted with a wonderful cast speaking beautiful dialogue. He was able to bring out the best of all of their qualities and construct something graceful, poetic and slightly disturbing. I had infinite more respect for him come the final scenes of the film than I did through much of the story, for I had no idea the places that his movie would take the audience. When we have a full grasp of the characters the meaning of scenes take on new levels and become far more exciting. It was slow in reaching a point of small greatness, but it got there in the end. This is no typical lover's triangle film and Bonham Carter's final words will chill you to the bone.
4/4
Friday, September 7, 2012
Death at a Funeral (2007)
There is a universality to humor that I think sometimes gets overlooked for the sake of political correctness or because a comedian might be afraid of being offensive. The point of humor is to offend; it is taking pleasure at the expense of someone or something else without exception. Boiling any joke down to its bare form involves one object being humiliated and a person feeling superior for that reason. There is sometimes a fear that a joke will cross a line from being hilarious to simply being cruel. Perhaps such a line does exist--after all, we don't normally laugh at jokes about child soldiers or genocide (people make Jewish jokes, though I never think they are any good)--but I don't normally feel that the lines we draw with our modern humor have any relevance, and their simple state of being takes the joy out of comedy in general, i.e. jokes on race, mental disabilities, etc.
"Death at a Funeral" is gifted in its disregard for the boundaries that society has placed on comedic films, and fortunately does not cross the hilarious-cruelty line. It stays firmly in the former section. Any film whose premise is centered about a funeral home at the burial of a family patriarch must necessarily push the boundaries of what is considered to still be "good form". Not only is this film good form and funny, it's smart funny, and that's difficult to achieve on any level.
In some ways this is a typical dysfunctional family film where the members who were scattered to the winds must suddenly reconvene for a common purpose. It's usually a wedding or a funeral, as it is here, and their different eccentricities cause mayhem before everyone realizes that they love each other, as they do here. In that sense, the movie is fairly formulaic, but that's comedy; a man is walking down the street, he slips on a banana peal, he breaks his ass.
The film is far more clever than a movie like this should be, however, and I don't believe credit is due to anyone but its writer, Dean Craig. The dialogue isn't exceptional and the comedy is not character based, but the situations, the ridiculousness piled on ridiculousness, gets to a point so extreme that it's almost inspiring. From secret, gay, midget lovers, to naked LSD trips, to old person poop on your hands, it certainly pulls out all of the stops while still keeping the plot grounded in reality.
That last point is its true golden quality. Anybody can write a story about a hangover where you wake up with Mike Tyson's tiger in your bathroom, but not everyone can come up with a story where two people can believably be put into the same coffin together, unbeknownst to the members of the family. That is serious comedic talent, and a talent that had me genuinely laughing hard.
Comedy is about shock value as much as it is about anything else. Tyler Perry apparently remade this (and I'm sure he did quite well at the box office), but is it comedy if it's nothing new? If we know what the punchline is it still funny? This shouldn't become a tirade against Perry, but he was the most well paid person in entertainment last year, even though he simply regurgitated something that was only funny at one time. It seems to me that if we love to laugh our money might be better off going to people like this Dean Craig who pushes the boundaries of comedy and succeeds, instead of a man who panders to his very select audience and gets away with bastardizing the art of humor. Something to think about...unless you're watching a "Madea" movie, then you're probably not thinking about anything.
3.5/4
"Death at a Funeral" is gifted in its disregard for the boundaries that society has placed on comedic films, and fortunately does not cross the hilarious-cruelty line. It stays firmly in the former section. Any film whose premise is centered about a funeral home at the burial of a family patriarch must necessarily push the boundaries of what is considered to still be "good form". Not only is this film good form and funny, it's smart funny, and that's difficult to achieve on any level.
In some ways this is a typical dysfunctional family film where the members who were scattered to the winds must suddenly reconvene for a common purpose. It's usually a wedding or a funeral, as it is here, and their different eccentricities cause mayhem before everyone realizes that they love each other, as they do here. In that sense, the movie is fairly formulaic, but that's comedy; a man is walking down the street, he slips on a banana peal, he breaks his ass.
The film is far more clever than a movie like this should be, however, and I don't believe credit is due to anyone but its writer, Dean Craig. The dialogue isn't exceptional and the comedy is not character based, but the situations, the ridiculousness piled on ridiculousness, gets to a point so extreme that it's almost inspiring. From secret, gay, midget lovers, to naked LSD trips, to old person poop on your hands, it certainly pulls out all of the stops while still keeping the plot grounded in reality.
That last point is its true golden quality. Anybody can write a story about a hangover where you wake up with Mike Tyson's tiger in your bathroom, but not everyone can come up with a story where two people can believably be put into the same coffin together, unbeknownst to the members of the family. That is serious comedic talent, and a talent that had me genuinely laughing hard.
Comedy is about shock value as much as it is about anything else. Tyler Perry apparently remade this (and I'm sure he did quite well at the box office), but is it comedy if it's nothing new? If we know what the punchline is it still funny? This shouldn't become a tirade against Perry, but he was the most well paid person in entertainment last year, even though he simply regurgitated something that was only funny at one time. It seems to me that if we love to laugh our money might be better off going to people like this Dean Craig who pushes the boundaries of comedy and succeeds, instead of a man who panders to his very select audience and gets away with bastardizing the art of humor. Something to think about...unless you're watching a "Madea" movie, then you're probably not thinking about anything.
3.5/4
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Rubber (2010)
A car tire named Robert mysterious awakens in the California desert, and with newly discovered psychokinetic powers wreaks havoc on a small town. An incompetent police force tries to track him down and destroy him, but the death toll continues to climb.
Why does a mute tire gain consciousness, and why further does he decide he likes the taste of destruction? The film will tell you there's no reason. It will, in fact, tell you that what you are watching has no reason at all and that it isn't particularly good. I would agree with that and go further to say that it isn't any good at all.
In a way I find the prospect of a reasonless film intriguing. As one character makes very clear, there are all sorts of things in movies which have no purpose at all and are simply there in order to make the movie more interesting. What I do no approve of, though, is being talked down to as though I weren't smart enough to figure out that that is what the filmmakers were trying to do all along. We are literally told by a man playing a police officer that the film we will be watching is without reason, and to my understanding that means it's pointless.
If, on the other hand, it had not said anything and had simply let us watch a B-film monster spoof only at the end to realize that director Quentin Dupieux had played an elaborate joke on the audience by creating a film entirely in homage to this concept, then I might have a lot of respect for this little indie film. Instead it decided to patronize its audience and then give us an ugly little story anyway.
I quite like Robert. Watching him discover his existence and his enjoyment at blowing up birds, rabbits and peoples' heads is actually endearing in a morbid way, and if he weren't killing things I might draw something of a parallel between him and Wall-E. The basic story isn't so awful, after all it's been done hundreds of times before. Everyone likes a good, cheesy monster movie, even one where the director tries too hard.
Where things go horribly wrong is a very confusing subplot where this entire story is a movie being played out for a live audience. They sit in the desert with binoculars commenting on all of the things that the real audience should be figuring out for themselves. It goes further into what I'm guessing was supposed to be some poorly thought out conspiracy or something--I really have no idea--but that is the basic gist of it. We sit there essentially watching ourselves, hearing our own thoughts told to us by bad actors and I began to realize it's because Dupieux didn't have enough ideas to make a feature-length film with any substance.
Had this been a 30 minute movie entirely about Robert's story without the stupid gimmicks and bad in-jokes it might have been an interesting attack on the audience and especially other filmmakers. As it happens, it was a dull, exhausting exercise on my patience that frankly made me more angry than inspired by their over-wrought artiness. I've wanted to see this film for a long time and it was one of the biggest disappointments I've had in recent memory.
0/4
Why does a mute tire gain consciousness, and why further does he decide he likes the taste of destruction? The film will tell you there's no reason. It will, in fact, tell you that what you are watching has no reason at all and that it isn't particularly good. I would agree with that and go further to say that it isn't any good at all.
In a way I find the prospect of a reasonless film intriguing. As one character makes very clear, there are all sorts of things in movies which have no purpose at all and are simply there in order to make the movie more interesting. What I do no approve of, though, is being talked down to as though I weren't smart enough to figure out that that is what the filmmakers were trying to do all along. We are literally told by a man playing a police officer that the film we will be watching is without reason, and to my understanding that means it's pointless.
If, on the other hand, it had not said anything and had simply let us watch a B-film monster spoof only at the end to realize that director Quentin Dupieux had played an elaborate joke on the audience by creating a film entirely in homage to this concept, then I might have a lot of respect for this little indie film. Instead it decided to patronize its audience and then give us an ugly little story anyway.
I quite like Robert. Watching him discover his existence and his enjoyment at blowing up birds, rabbits and peoples' heads is actually endearing in a morbid way, and if he weren't killing things I might draw something of a parallel between him and Wall-E. The basic story isn't so awful, after all it's been done hundreds of times before. Everyone likes a good, cheesy monster movie, even one where the director tries too hard.
Where things go horribly wrong is a very confusing subplot where this entire story is a movie being played out for a live audience. They sit in the desert with binoculars commenting on all of the things that the real audience should be figuring out for themselves. It goes further into what I'm guessing was supposed to be some poorly thought out conspiracy or something--I really have no idea--but that is the basic gist of it. We sit there essentially watching ourselves, hearing our own thoughts told to us by bad actors and I began to realize it's because Dupieux didn't have enough ideas to make a feature-length film with any substance.
Had this been a 30 minute movie entirely about Robert's story without the stupid gimmicks and bad in-jokes it might have been an interesting attack on the audience and especially other filmmakers. As it happens, it was a dull, exhausting exercise on my patience that frankly made me more angry than inspired by their over-wrought artiness. I've wanted to see this film for a long time and it was one of the biggest disappointments I've had in recent memory.
0/4
Monday, September 3, 2012
A Christmas Carol (2009)
Those who know me well enough know of my love for the works of Charles Dickens. Those who know me even better could tell you that I have a Christmas tradition of reading A Christmas Carol on either Christmas Eve or the big day itself. The story is grim and dark, but not without the charm of any Dickens story. I have seen most every film version, and as with any retelling I have my favorites. I can't say that Disney's latest adaptation is among my top choices and I'm not sure that I would watch it again, but is at the very least an interesting new look at the classic tale.
We all know the story (or should!): the miserly and most unpleasant humbug of a man, Ebenezer Scrooge, toils away on Christmas Eve. He rebuffs the spirit of the season, attacks carolers, charitable workers and even his own nephew. Upon returning home late in the night, he is visited by the ghost of his old partner at his collection house, Jacob Marley, who warns him that his soul will be damned if he doesn't change his miserable ways. In order to guide him on a path of altruism, Scrooge is haunted by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come who guide him through his life to show where he went wrong with humanity.
There has always been a creepy atmosphere to this story. Dickens is known as a man of the people, whose works tend to reflect the conditions of an industrial but socially underdeveloped London. However, what he writes has always felt to me to a unobtrusive and almost distant look at poverty and the toils of the working class. It never gets in the way of his stories and only ever seems to slowly creep into the back of the reader's mind. Disney's version, however, makes the socio-economic conditions of the time all too relevant.
The film is entirely computer generated which gave the filmmakers enormous liberty when designing the world in which Scrooge would inhabit. What they chose was a sooty, drab landscape full of shadows. The people walking the streets are almost flinchingly ugly with their rotting teeth, sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. They seem to smell through the screen and their poverty is evident. When Scrooge turns away the poor his actions become all the more reprehensible for it.
There is no denying that the film is startling in its beauty. The characters, though CGI, all seem to resemble their voice actors. Jim Carrey, Gary Oldman and especially Colin Firth translate so well because one can see the actual person behind the technology. The voice acting is wonderful as well. I'm not sure that I would have chosen Carrey as Scrooge, but I do find it impressive that he not only did the main character, but the three ghosts as well. They all sounded great, though I did think his Mancunian accent sounded a bit off...
What I disliked about the film was the lack of joy that I got from it. It isn't supposed to be a happy story necessarily--in fact, it should be quite the opposite. But what it should have that the other versions have and that the book has is a celebration of the day and the happiness gotten from friends and family at Christmas. Instead, the characters that Dickens made so vibrant were dulled and unappealing. Their festivities did not seem all too enjoyable, and certainly not nice enough to make Scrooge remorseful.
A Christmas Carol is a particularly tricky story to navigate through film, because in a matter of three nights we need to see Scrooge renounce his entire life and choose to become a better person. Not only does he have to do this, but it needs to seem genuine. Not all of them do this, and this version completely failed as well. As we travel through Scrooge's life he seems particularly distant and therefore the growth of the character seems forced. We reach the end of the movie and it seems as though he is generous simply because he is a vain person fearful of death. There was no closure for the audience and therefore the film is not a success as a storyteller.
Although Robert Zemeckis had plenty of interesting ideas for his version, his visual flair made the film too dark to find the beauty of Christmas and helping one's fellow man which is what the story is all about.
2/4
We all know the story (or should!): the miserly and most unpleasant humbug of a man, Ebenezer Scrooge, toils away on Christmas Eve. He rebuffs the spirit of the season, attacks carolers, charitable workers and even his own nephew. Upon returning home late in the night, he is visited by the ghost of his old partner at his collection house, Jacob Marley, who warns him that his soul will be damned if he doesn't change his miserable ways. In order to guide him on a path of altruism, Scrooge is haunted by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come who guide him through his life to show where he went wrong with humanity.
There has always been a creepy atmosphere to this story. Dickens is known as a man of the people, whose works tend to reflect the conditions of an industrial but socially underdeveloped London. However, what he writes has always felt to me to a unobtrusive and almost distant look at poverty and the toils of the working class. It never gets in the way of his stories and only ever seems to slowly creep into the back of the reader's mind. Disney's version, however, makes the socio-economic conditions of the time all too relevant.
The film is entirely computer generated which gave the filmmakers enormous liberty when designing the world in which Scrooge would inhabit. What they chose was a sooty, drab landscape full of shadows. The people walking the streets are almost flinchingly ugly with their rotting teeth, sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. They seem to smell through the screen and their poverty is evident. When Scrooge turns away the poor his actions become all the more reprehensible for it.
There is no denying that the film is startling in its beauty. The characters, though CGI, all seem to resemble their voice actors. Jim Carrey, Gary Oldman and especially Colin Firth translate so well because one can see the actual person behind the technology. The voice acting is wonderful as well. I'm not sure that I would have chosen Carrey as Scrooge, but I do find it impressive that he not only did the main character, but the three ghosts as well. They all sounded great, though I did think his Mancunian accent sounded a bit off...
What I disliked about the film was the lack of joy that I got from it. It isn't supposed to be a happy story necessarily--in fact, it should be quite the opposite. But what it should have that the other versions have and that the book has is a celebration of the day and the happiness gotten from friends and family at Christmas. Instead, the characters that Dickens made so vibrant were dulled and unappealing. Their festivities did not seem all too enjoyable, and certainly not nice enough to make Scrooge remorseful.
A Christmas Carol is a particularly tricky story to navigate through film, because in a matter of three nights we need to see Scrooge renounce his entire life and choose to become a better person. Not only does he have to do this, but it needs to seem genuine. Not all of them do this, and this version completely failed as well. As we travel through Scrooge's life he seems particularly distant and therefore the growth of the character seems forced. We reach the end of the movie and it seems as though he is generous simply because he is a vain person fearful of death. There was no closure for the audience and therefore the film is not a success as a storyteller.
Although Robert Zemeckis had plenty of interesting ideas for his version, his visual flair made the film too dark to find the beauty of Christmas and helping one's fellow man which is what the story is all about.
2/4
Sunday, September 2, 2012
All About Eve (1950)
At the midpoint of the film, and unknown actress reads in an audition and is what one critic calls "a revelation"; she is fire and she is music. I expect that when "All About Eve" premiered it was something of a revelation itself. Watching it now for the umpteenth time it is still revelatory to me, something new and exciting and fresh, exploring and pushing the boundaries of what a perfectly selected cast of superb actors can do for film. The characters talk of fire and music as they breathe flames and concertos right through the screen. Over 60 years have passed since it was filmed, but like Bette Davis it has aged gracefully and only deepened in emotion.
There is a particular group of people who will find this film a masterpiece, and those are the same people that the actors play. They are the elite, bourgeois, theatre-type crowd who talk in flowery language and only attack through the written word. This is a movie of the politics of the stage and the corrupting power of fame. For those people--such as myself--who embrace the theatre, this is a perfectly thrust sword into the guts of the manipulators and the passive-aggressives who will do whatever is necessary to keep themselves center stage.
Bette Davis gives her finest performance as Margo Channing, an aging great dame of the theatre whose life suddenly becomes all about Eve. Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) is a young, porcelain, upstart woman whose troubled past lead her to Margo. Disarmed by her breathy voice, sad story and genuine desire to love and help, Margo invites Eve to live with her and act as her personal secretary. Things are not all they seem, though, as soon it becomes clear that Eve has motives of her own. Margo's other assistant Birdie (Thelma Ritter) is the only one who can see the cracks of Eve's carefully molded mask.
The film appears to both love and hate the theatre and those who fill it. The men, who are writers, directors, producers, are mere wisps of people caught in the orbit of titanic women. They try to involve themselves in the politics of producing plays, but up against the forces of Eve, Margo, and their friend Karen (Celeste Holm) they merely blend into the background. These women are petty, jealous, self-absorbed creatures of the night who relish in applause and a good word penned by the venomous critic Addison DeWitt (George Sanders). The spend their time smoking, drinking and sharpening their fangs. That is "All About Eve", and it is brilliant.
It is written so beautifully and acted with such vitality that we almost forgive how ugly the characters are. Davis and Baxter battling opposite each other, slicing each other with Joseph Mankiewicz's dialogue, create tension that is riveting and breathtaking. At times it feels as though we are watching a stage performance, but we are gifted with the ability to see the subtleties of their craft which would go amiss otherwise.
Davis especially towers above her peers, playing a wounded and insecure star whose light may be fading. She is no longer her own person, but a caricature of herself dressed as a great and humble talent. She is put into plays because she is Margo Channing, but knowing she has reached 40 has made her hostile and unforgiving. It is said that Davis was channeling Talullah Bankhead when she acted Margo, but it seems clear to me that she was simply channeling Bette Davis. The result is remarkable, on par with anything Katharine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman or Meryl Streep have done at their peaks.
Baxter is no less interesting. She is soft-spoken, adoring and lovely. I am not sure whether the acting would be difficult or easy when playing a character so completely false. When she does have to "act" and be "dramatic" it is sublime, and if the character was a difficult one for an actor then she was absolutely wonderful.
Sanders as DeWitt is the only man of the film worth mentioning (the others were all good, but equally unremarkable as far as the story is concerned). It is very clear Mankiewicz hates critics, as I'm sure most filmmakers do, and DeWitt has to be one of the most horrible of them all. Posh, slightly effeminate and too cunning for his own good, this is the man who makes or breaks a show when he sees it. He savors his own articulate prowess and destroys simply because he can. Together with Eve he is villain of the highest and most believable caliber.
It is a very rare thing to see a piece of art so perfect that one can watch it time and again and still see its greatness. It is even rarer to see it more than once and find new greatness. That is this film's gift. Nothing dies in the theatre and like it, "All About Eve" will not die. It is a landmark in cinematic history, and benchmark for actors. The film is a colossal force of feminine talents, about women and for them. This is a wonderful movie experience and one of the greatest of all films.
4/4
There is a particular group of people who will find this film a masterpiece, and those are the same people that the actors play. They are the elite, bourgeois, theatre-type crowd who talk in flowery language and only attack through the written word. This is a movie of the politics of the stage and the corrupting power of fame. For those people--such as myself--who embrace the theatre, this is a perfectly thrust sword into the guts of the manipulators and the passive-aggressives who will do whatever is necessary to keep themselves center stage.
Bette Davis gives her finest performance as Margo Channing, an aging great dame of the theatre whose life suddenly becomes all about Eve. Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) is a young, porcelain, upstart woman whose troubled past lead her to Margo. Disarmed by her breathy voice, sad story and genuine desire to love and help, Margo invites Eve to live with her and act as her personal secretary. Things are not all they seem, though, as soon it becomes clear that Eve has motives of her own. Margo's other assistant Birdie (Thelma Ritter) is the only one who can see the cracks of Eve's carefully molded mask.
The film appears to both love and hate the theatre and those who fill it. The men, who are writers, directors, producers, are mere wisps of people caught in the orbit of titanic women. They try to involve themselves in the politics of producing plays, but up against the forces of Eve, Margo, and their friend Karen (Celeste Holm) they merely blend into the background. These women are petty, jealous, self-absorbed creatures of the night who relish in applause and a good word penned by the venomous critic Addison DeWitt (George Sanders). The spend their time smoking, drinking and sharpening their fangs. That is "All About Eve", and it is brilliant.
It is written so beautifully and acted with such vitality that we almost forgive how ugly the characters are. Davis and Baxter battling opposite each other, slicing each other with Joseph Mankiewicz's dialogue, create tension that is riveting and breathtaking. At times it feels as though we are watching a stage performance, but we are gifted with the ability to see the subtleties of their craft which would go amiss otherwise.
Davis especially towers above her peers, playing a wounded and insecure star whose light may be fading. She is no longer her own person, but a caricature of herself dressed as a great and humble talent. She is put into plays because she is Margo Channing, but knowing she has reached 40 has made her hostile and unforgiving. It is said that Davis was channeling Talullah Bankhead when she acted Margo, but it seems clear to me that she was simply channeling Bette Davis. The result is remarkable, on par with anything Katharine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman or Meryl Streep have done at their peaks.
Baxter is no less interesting. She is soft-spoken, adoring and lovely. I am not sure whether the acting would be difficult or easy when playing a character so completely false. When she does have to "act" and be "dramatic" it is sublime, and if the character was a difficult one for an actor then she was absolutely wonderful.
Sanders as DeWitt is the only man of the film worth mentioning (the others were all good, but equally unremarkable as far as the story is concerned). It is very clear Mankiewicz hates critics, as I'm sure most filmmakers do, and DeWitt has to be one of the most horrible of them all. Posh, slightly effeminate and too cunning for his own good, this is the man who makes or breaks a show when he sees it. He savors his own articulate prowess and destroys simply because he can. Together with Eve he is villain of the highest and most believable caliber.
It is a very rare thing to see a piece of art so perfect that one can watch it time and again and still see its greatness. It is even rarer to see it more than once and find new greatness. That is this film's gift. Nothing dies in the theatre and like it, "All About Eve" will not die. It is a landmark in cinematic history, and benchmark for actors. The film is a colossal force of feminine talents, about women and for them. This is a wonderful movie experience and one of the greatest of all films.
4/4
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Rope (1948)
The Master of Suspense weaves us a lackluster yawn of a film about two young socialites who murder a classmate of theirs, then stow the body in the middle of their living room in which they hold a dinner party. The synopsis caught my attention, but the execution was abysmally dull. With possibly only a couple of drops of suspense this is perhaps the weakest film by Alfred Hitchcock that I have yet to see.
A morality question is posed to the audience: Do the ethics of right and wrong apply to the intellectually superior? These two young men believe themselves to be in a class of men above others. They commit the perfect murder because their "inferior" classmate is inferior, then gloat about it by trying to perfect the crime by rubbing the noses of the man's friends and family in it, unbeknownst to them. So, is there a superior man, and is it justified to get rid of those who stall the progress of civilization?
I might have been more interested in the writer's answers to these questions had Hitchcock chosen a less insufferable cast. John Dall and Farley Granger play Brandon and Phillip, our two murderers and party hosts. Brandon is the mastermind of the operation, an unfeeling, smarmy mistake of a person whose smugness leads him to reckless behavior. Phillip is more of his lackey who immediately regrets his actions when the deed is done.
Dall is the most prominent blemish in the film. The script is adapted by Patrick Hamilton's play which continually describes Brandon as charming. Dall seemed to interpret this "charm" as sleaziness; no sophisticate in his right mind would waste his time with someone so cold, calculating and obviously manipulative as this guy. Smugness for him was not so much a state of being as it was a character trait adopted by the actor. I was aware I was watching a performance as I could read every thought on the actor's face. Dall didn't listen to his fellow actors and simply waited for his queues so he could belch out his lines and saunter to his next mark.
James Stewart is Rupert, whose relation to the boys I'm still unclear about--I think he might be a professor or headmaster of sorts. Rupert is a man of logic and philosophy whose calculating eye proves to be their inevitable downfall. I've never imagined Stewart as anything more than a bumbling oaf, possibly due to that funny speech thing he has, or maybe it's his physique. In any case, he should never be the suave, smart hero, and his pairing opposite Dall is an ugly train wreck. Stewart overacts like he does when he tries to be dramatic.
One notable contribution that this film made was its one shot take. I was so busy focusing on my dislike of Dall that I didn't realize that there wasn't a cut for almost half an hour. The film takes place in one room and its easy adaptability from the stage made it a perfect candidate for Hitchcock's trick. It certainly proved less distracting and more thoughtfully done than other films which would employ this in the future.
Despite the interesting premise and Hitchcock's flair for the unexpected, I found that even at a brisk 80 minutes there wasn't enough substance here to keep me interested. We spend all of our time waiting for someone to open the damn chest that the body is hidden in, while slugging through useless subplots that the fluff up the story. It's not funny, not very well acted and by the time the secret is outed I couldn't care less whether they got away with the crime or not. The only crime I cared about was that an hour and half of my time had been stolen.
1.5/4
A morality question is posed to the audience: Do the ethics of right and wrong apply to the intellectually superior? These two young men believe themselves to be in a class of men above others. They commit the perfect murder because their "inferior" classmate is inferior, then gloat about it by trying to perfect the crime by rubbing the noses of the man's friends and family in it, unbeknownst to them. So, is there a superior man, and is it justified to get rid of those who stall the progress of civilization?
I might have been more interested in the writer's answers to these questions had Hitchcock chosen a less insufferable cast. John Dall and Farley Granger play Brandon and Phillip, our two murderers and party hosts. Brandon is the mastermind of the operation, an unfeeling, smarmy mistake of a person whose smugness leads him to reckless behavior. Phillip is more of his lackey who immediately regrets his actions when the deed is done.
Dall is the most prominent blemish in the film. The script is adapted by Patrick Hamilton's play which continually describes Brandon as charming. Dall seemed to interpret this "charm" as sleaziness; no sophisticate in his right mind would waste his time with someone so cold, calculating and obviously manipulative as this guy. Smugness for him was not so much a state of being as it was a character trait adopted by the actor. I was aware I was watching a performance as I could read every thought on the actor's face. Dall didn't listen to his fellow actors and simply waited for his queues so he could belch out his lines and saunter to his next mark.
James Stewart is Rupert, whose relation to the boys I'm still unclear about--I think he might be a professor or headmaster of sorts. Rupert is a man of logic and philosophy whose calculating eye proves to be their inevitable downfall. I've never imagined Stewart as anything more than a bumbling oaf, possibly due to that funny speech thing he has, or maybe it's his physique. In any case, he should never be the suave, smart hero, and his pairing opposite Dall is an ugly train wreck. Stewart overacts like he does when he tries to be dramatic.
One notable contribution that this film made was its one shot take. I was so busy focusing on my dislike of Dall that I didn't realize that there wasn't a cut for almost half an hour. The film takes place in one room and its easy adaptability from the stage made it a perfect candidate for Hitchcock's trick. It certainly proved less distracting and more thoughtfully done than other films which would employ this in the future.
Despite the interesting premise and Hitchcock's flair for the unexpected, I found that even at a brisk 80 minutes there wasn't enough substance here to keep me interested. We spend all of our time waiting for someone to open the damn chest that the body is hidden in, while slugging through useless subplots that the fluff up the story. It's not funny, not very well acted and by the time the secret is outed I couldn't care less whether they got away with the crime or not. The only crime I cared about was that an hour and half of my time had been stolen.
1.5/4
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