Just seven years after Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece "Apocalypse Now" came out, Oliver Stone submitted his own Vietnam War drama to resounding success. Unflinching and supremely tense, "Platoon" offers the experience of one lonely grunt in the deepest pit of Hell. Although I do not necessarily agree with the film's greatness, it is nonetheless a gripping and expertly crafted depiction of one of the bloodiest defeats in American history.
A young Charlie Sheen plays Chris, the lost soul and intelligent college dropout on a crusade, who has made the mistake of enlisting for the Army. Naive, unskilled fresh meat, Chris soon finds himself in the last great battlefield of good versus evil. Pulled between the just, if taught, Sgt. Elias (Willem Dafoe) and the scarred, ruthless killer, Sgt. Barnes (Tom Berenger), Chris must decide if he should fight for self-imposed affects of "humanity" or let himself be swallowed up by the great primal choice of fight or flight.
Although it was shot in the Philippines and not Vietnam or Cambodia, the thick jungles lend itself for an engrossing and entirely believable portrayal of the horrors of Nam. Stone wastes no time in plunging the audience into the gruesome details of what was essentially guerrilla warfare. A great many films have tried hard to capture the essence of various wars throughout history, and most have been unsuccessful. I feel strongly that one of the reasons why "Platoon" was so successful was due to the fact that it did not attempt to soften the stark nature of particularly unforgiving war. Boys were turned into men, and men were turned into monsters in the space of months, and Stone makes no attempt to blind the audience to that.
There are a great many scenes for which this film has become iconic. Most, I feel, are simply given in recognition of Stone's artistry, but the singular shot which I feel encompasses the entire message of the movie and really reveals the ultimate futility of it all comes at the halfway mark. The great controversial scene is the rape and illegal murders that come with the raid of a small farming village. We have all heard the stories of men on the battlefield who have made sport of killing civilians, devoid of consciences and numbed or broken by the effects of constant fear. The scene here is especially graphic, terrifying and infuriating. But the one shot which encompasses the entire message of the film comes when a G.I. who has just beaten an old woman and her mentally and physically disabled son lights their hut on fire and then lights his cigarette with the flames. At that moment we know we are not meant to hate the people, simply the war orchestrated by faceless, potbellied politicians.
The film, for all its great potential, marvelous acting, and realist production falls short when it comes to its narrative. The characters are never fully fleshed out, the time necessary to developing them instead being used on drawn out, loud and chaotic fight sequences. These are very effective for a short amount of time, but as they continue, and continue, and continue they become wearisome. The men are turned into nothing more than pawns on the giant chessboard facilitated by God and Satan.
Stone's religious overtones become overwrought as well. It is clear the Elias is meant to be Jesus ("Jesus fucking Christ", "water-walker", the betrayal by Judas which leads to his death), and Barnes who is intended to be Satan (the scars, the impossibility of his death, the fire in his eyes), both of whom fight for the wandering sheep. Of all the many things I hate in a film, one of the worst is when a movie is patronizing, thinking I can't figure out the little tricks and messages of the director or writer. "Platoon" wasn't terrible in this way, but the metaphors could have been toned down.
Furthermore, the final message is unclear. There seems to be a constant struggle between both freewill and destiny, and predestined good and evil. The men in Chris's platoon fall into the Barnes or Elias camp, based on their compassion and their willingness to fight. But in each of them they also find themselves with considerable choices in which they must make a conscious effort to decide. Chris is the intellectual and he is our protagonist, so we follow him as he becomes aware of the struggle. But which is it, reason or the divine? The films pulls both ways, and I wouldn't mind the ambiguity so much were the themes not so prominent.
Looking past all lofty snobbery, the film is very good. Not great, but very good. It is a war film that does not rely on gimmicks and gratuitous blood to make its point, but simply employs them to accentuate the fact that the war was demoralizing, dehumanizing and pointless. Although it kept me engaged I did notice my mind wandering, often drifting toward the question "Do we need another Nam film after 'Apocalypse'?" I say no.
3/4
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
A Separation (2011)
A year ago I participated in an acting workshop which focused on interpreting difficult scenes employing facets of laughter, crying and argument. I struggled with the latter. In order to accurately portray a hostile engagement on stage or screen it must be approached cautiously, lest it devolve into nothing more than a screaming match. The 2011 Best Foreign Language Oscar-winner from Iran, "A Separation", takes the basic idea of the great feud, a divorce, and spins it into a prickly, arresting drama which explores a huge range of argument to terrific effect.
Following a striking opening scene in a courtroom where husband and wife Nader and Simin unsuccessfully fight for a divorce, we are brought into their contemporary Iranian household where Nader (Payman Maadi) is left to tend to his 12-year-old daughter, Termeh, and his aged father suffering from advanced Alzheimer's. Simin moves into her parents' home leaving Nader to find a housekeeper to tend to his father. Whom he chooses leads to drastic consequences which spiral out of control and throw the family into turmoil.
What struck me while watching Asghar Farhadi's family drama was the interplay between old and new. I have never been to Iran, but if the nation is portrayed accurately, and I have no reason to believe it was not, then the interplay between a traditional Muslim structure which governs in a more general sense is being threatened by the multicultural and globalized world which is constantly shrinking the space between us, ushering in new ideas and a more progressive world. This becomes key when Nader's new housekeeper, Razieh (Sareh Bayat), a deeply pious woman, through her neglect of her responsibilities, leads to a series of trials which puts both her family's life as well as Nader's at risk.
The issue is this: having to leave to see her gynecologist, Razieh leaves Nader's father alone in his house, tied to his bed. When Nader returns home early he finds his father collapsed on the floor and money missing from his room. In a fit of rage when Razieh returns to the apartment, Nader commits a violent indiscretion and pushes her out the front door, apparently leading the secretly pregnant woman to miscarry. Because the fetus was over four months along it is considered a living being and subsequently Nader is tried for murder.
A whole host of precarious questions arise. If Nader did not know of Razieh's pregnancy should he be punished for the crime he is accused of? Razieh, who is immediately portrayed as an untrustworthy and possibly dishonest person, embellishes information at least as far as the viewer has seen. Do we pity her loss? And further, was Nader's action justified given the circumstances of what she allowed happen to his father? These become much more difficult to answer when we realize that Nader might not be entirely truthful.
The script allows no real room for us to ponder the questions on our own, nor does it present us with all the information we need, keeping truths a secret and propelling us forward like a thriller from one argument to another. Events unfold and we are left fixed to the screen trying desperately to keep facts straight and make up our minds about the genuineness of the characters. The difficultly in deciding who is to blame is compounded firstly by the fact that it is a Muslim society and therefore very alien--their practices and the importance of pride and proper judgment are lost to us Westerners--and secondly because in the end there may not be an innocent party. By the time we realize this it is already too late, the characters have sunk themselves into their situation to a point where there is no real escape for them.
The characters we see are people who could be anyone; they could be the family next door. The divorce is merely a springboard from which we are shot through the insecurities, the lies, the mistakes that people make when they are frightened. They are identifiable and easy to hate or pity or love because they are human in the most basic sense. The five main actors play their roles with an openness and a believability that is rare and commendable. Particular attention needs to be paid to Farhadi's daughter, Sarina, who plays the sensitive, intelligent and very perceptive Termeh exquisitely. Her performance is not great for a young actress, it is just great.
I was reminded of a movie called "Doubt", which came out in 2008, because come the end of the movie the audience was left undecided about the innocence or guilt of Philip Seymour Hoffman's character, who is accused of sexually molesting an alter boy. In a similar way, there is really no determining where blame is to be placed here. In the end, all of the characters have blackened souls, darkened by a desire for self-preservation. The arguments we watch in their many complexities are filled with half-truths and ambiguities and cast judgment on the audience who would quickly seek to condemn based simply on first appearances.
This is a breathtaking movie which defies the laws of drama with an impressive attempt to give us no real protagonist. We may think there's one, but that fault is ultimately ours.
4/4
Following a striking opening scene in a courtroom where husband and wife Nader and Simin unsuccessfully fight for a divorce, we are brought into their contemporary Iranian household where Nader (Payman Maadi) is left to tend to his 12-year-old daughter, Termeh, and his aged father suffering from advanced Alzheimer's. Simin moves into her parents' home leaving Nader to find a housekeeper to tend to his father. Whom he chooses leads to drastic consequences which spiral out of control and throw the family into turmoil.
What struck me while watching Asghar Farhadi's family drama was the interplay between old and new. I have never been to Iran, but if the nation is portrayed accurately, and I have no reason to believe it was not, then the interplay between a traditional Muslim structure which governs in a more general sense is being threatened by the multicultural and globalized world which is constantly shrinking the space between us, ushering in new ideas and a more progressive world. This becomes key when Nader's new housekeeper, Razieh (Sareh Bayat), a deeply pious woman, through her neglect of her responsibilities, leads to a series of trials which puts both her family's life as well as Nader's at risk.
The issue is this: having to leave to see her gynecologist, Razieh leaves Nader's father alone in his house, tied to his bed. When Nader returns home early he finds his father collapsed on the floor and money missing from his room. In a fit of rage when Razieh returns to the apartment, Nader commits a violent indiscretion and pushes her out the front door, apparently leading the secretly pregnant woman to miscarry. Because the fetus was over four months along it is considered a living being and subsequently Nader is tried for murder.
A whole host of precarious questions arise. If Nader did not know of Razieh's pregnancy should he be punished for the crime he is accused of? Razieh, who is immediately portrayed as an untrustworthy and possibly dishonest person, embellishes information at least as far as the viewer has seen. Do we pity her loss? And further, was Nader's action justified given the circumstances of what she allowed happen to his father? These become much more difficult to answer when we realize that Nader might not be entirely truthful.
The script allows no real room for us to ponder the questions on our own, nor does it present us with all the information we need, keeping truths a secret and propelling us forward like a thriller from one argument to another. Events unfold and we are left fixed to the screen trying desperately to keep facts straight and make up our minds about the genuineness of the characters. The difficultly in deciding who is to blame is compounded firstly by the fact that it is a Muslim society and therefore very alien--their practices and the importance of pride and proper judgment are lost to us Westerners--and secondly because in the end there may not be an innocent party. By the time we realize this it is already too late, the characters have sunk themselves into their situation to a point where there is no real escape for them.
The characters we see are people who could be anyone; they could be the family next door. The divorce is merely a springboard from which we are shot through the insecurities, the lies, the mistakes that people make when they are frightened. They are identifiable and easy to hate or pity or love because they are human in the most basic sense. The five main actors play their roles with an openness and a believability that is rare and commendable. Particular attention needs to be paid to Farhadi's daughter, Sarina, who plays the sensitive, intelligent and very perceptive Termeh exquisitely. Her performance is not great for a young actress, it is just great.
I was reminded of a movie called "Doubt", which came out in 2008, because come the end of the movie the audience was left undecided about the innocence or guilt of Philip Seymour Hoffman's character, who is accused of sexually molesting an alter boy. In a similar way, there is really no determining where blame is to be placed here. In the end, all of the characters have blackened souls, darkened by a desire for self-preservation. The arguments we watch in their many complexities are filled with half-truths and ambiguities and cast judgment on the audience who would quickly seek to condemn based simply on first appearances.
This is a breathtaking movie which defies the laws of drama with an impressive attempt to give us no real protagonist. We may think there's one, but that fault is ultimately ours.
4/4
Monday, April 22, 2013
Y tu mama tambien (2003)
This is one road trip film for the books. Alfonso Cuaron's highly eroticized story of two teenage boys heading to an unknown, unreal paradise turns out to be paradise all along, as the older woman whom they bring with them teaches them lessons of life, love and loss. It is a joyous, passionate and occasionally heartbreaking look at boys being boys in a summer of sexual exploration.
Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna are effortlessly funny as Julio and Tenoch, two best friends who are seemingly joined at the hip. They are two halves of the same whole and Bernal and Luna's relationship as actors definitely has the chemistry to pull off the like-minded way in which the two spend their days. It is an uncomplicated life they lead: drinking, smoking pot, having awkward sex with their girlfriends. They spend their hours in the haze of youth where troubles are only for the troubled.
A chance encounter with Diego's beautiful cousin Luisa (Maribel Verdu), a soon to be divorcee, inspires the two to invite her on a trip to a made-up beach called Heaven's Mouth, an offer Luisa unexpectedly accepts. The boys' motives are obviously to sleep with her while their girlfriends are in Italy, but how serious they are in their pursuits we do not know. Luisa understands why she is there as well, but a major fight with her cheating husband leads her to throw rationality out the window, and brings her to cause indiscretions which toy with the emotions of her travel mates.
I was reminded of the films of Almodovar while watching "Y tu mama tambien", not because of stylistic choices or because of its characters, but because of the way that Cuaron has tackled sex with such an open embrace. Too often what happens in the bedroom is taboo and is tiptoed around in film, with cautious editing and euphemisms to soften the content for the audience. I respect this movie immensely for deciding that it was simply going to be about sex and the many different motivations that inspire it, and declaring that it shall be shown in all its glory. The dialogue is frank, the nudity shown in plentiful amounts. I was embarrassed at realizing I was taken aback at seeing so much male nudity, but by the end of the film the strangeness of it had worn off and I finally understood what a beautiful thing Cuaron did for me.
One can determine the end of the film about fifteen minutes into it. The story is one great inevitability as most road trip movies are, but unlike the others the sense of excitement and unpredictability maintains itself through its entirety. The major surprise was that when the credits rolled and the expected ending had finally come, I had experienced an emotional reaction. Intellectually I knew what was going to happen, I assume Cuaron knew I knew, but he navigated me where I needed to go nonetheless.
There are so many good things to mention in this movie that I feel discussing all of them would cheapen the actual experience of watching it. Amidst its boyish charm it is ultimately about the paradise that is the ignorance of immaturity. Julio and Tenoch go looking for paradise, blissfully unaware that their lives are perfect, and in their contact with Luisa paradise is lost. This very smart movie never lets us forget that there is a greater world outside of Julio's junk car, and that more important decisions need to be made than who gets the worm from the tequila bottle. Although it parades itself as a comedy, in its deepest core it is a forlorn love letter from Cuaron to his innocent younger self, long since dead.
4/4
Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna are effortlessly funny as Julio and Tenoch, two best friends who are seemingly joined at the hip. They are two halves of the same whole and Bernal and Luna's relationship as actors definitely has the chemistry to pull off the like-minded way in which the two spend their days. It is an uncomplicated life they lead: drinking, smoking pot, having awkward sex with their girlfriends. They spend their hours in the haze of youth where troubles are only for the troubled.
A chance encounter with Diego's beautiful cousin Luisa (Maribel Verdu), a soon to be divorcee, inspires the two to invite her on a trip to a made-up beach called Heaven's Mouth, an offer Luisa unexpectedly accepts. The boys' motives are obviously to sleep with her while their girlfriends are in Italy, but how serious they are in their pursuits we do not know. Luisa understands why she is there as well, but a major fight with her cheating husband leads her to throw rationality out the window, and brings her to cause indiscretions which toy with the emotions of her travel mates.
I was reminded of the films of Almodovar while watching "Y tu mama tambien", not because of stylistic choices or because of its characters, but because of the way that Cuaron has tackled sex with such an open embrace. Too often what happens in the bedroom is taboo and is tiptoed around in film, with cautious editing and euphemisms to soften the content for the audience. I respect this movie immensely for deciding that it was simply going to be about sex and the many different motivations that inspire it, and declaring that it shall be shown in all its glory. The dialogue is frank, the nudity shown in plentiful amounts. I was embarrassed at realizing I was taken aback at seeing so much male nudity, but by the end of the film the strangeness of it had worn off and I finally understood what a beautiful thing Cuaron did for me.
One can determine the end of the film about fifteen minutes into it. The story is one great inevitability as most road trip movies are, but unlike the others the sense of excitement and unpredictability maintains itself through its entirety. The major surprise was that when the credits rolled and the expected ending had finally come, I had experienced an emotional reaction. Intellectually I knew what was going to happen, I assume Cuaron knew I knew, but he navigated me where I needed to go nonetheless.
There are so many good things to mention in this movie that I feel discussing all of them would cheapen the actual experience of watching it. Amidst its boyish charm it is ultimately about the paradise that is the ignorance of immaturity. Julio and Tenoch go looking for paradise, blissfully unaware that their lives are perfect, and in their contact with Luisa paradise is lost. This very smart movie never lets us forget that there is a greater world outside of Julio's junk car, and that more important decisions need to be made than who gets the worm from the tequila bottle. Although it parades itself as a comedy, in its deepest core it is a forlorn love letter from Cuaron to his innocent younger self, long since dead.
4/4
Thursday, April 18, 2013
The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011)
I suppose I'll receive a lot of slag for beginning this review by stating it was immediately apparent that this sleeper hit from England was adapted not only from a novel, but one written by a woman. I'm not sure if that has any sort of relevance to anything, I just think it was interesting that one can watch the opening montage in which seven unhappy pensioners are introduced to us and know right away that it was written a member of the delicate sex. Perhaps I stereotype women as being obsessed with age and constantly trying to rejuvenate themselves, or maybe I simply recognized that if a man were to write on the subject matter at hand, it would have been done with fewer smiles and more biting truth. Take "Amour", for example, another film about growing old that came out the same year, which handles the prospect of death with realism and dignity. I thought it was obviously written by a man, and I was right. Call it misogynistic, but I still guessed correctly.
Issues arose for me as soon as I had this realization owing to the accurate assumptions that the film would then a series of formulas played out exactly, and there would be few realizations for the audience or for the characters themselves. There would be some heartache, some golden years romance, probably a death or two, but happy endings for all. Many thanks to writer Deborah Moggach would have been given were I placing money on my guesses. But I get ahead of myself...
In the late years of their lives seven seniors leave Ol' Blighty, which they believe doesn't care for their elderly, to move permanently to an Indian hotel specializing in looking after people late in their lives. It is run by spirited dreamer Sonny (Dev Patel, from "Slumdog Millionaire"), a hapless young man with aspirations aplenty but a decisive blindness to the reality that his hotel is destined for failure. The seven arrive with their lives in their suitcases, all their different stories folded up with stiff upper lips and bland biscuits, ready to pursue adventure in an exotic new world.
Amid the well-used stories about fears of uselessness and adapting to a new culture, I got the vague sense that the film was unwittingly making the claim that the Empire was grand and rose-colored days of the good ol' boys drinking brandy under the Raj needed reclamation and affirmation. It certainly accomplishes that, if that was indeed its goal. India seems full of charm and color; the extreme deprivation and horrible conditions of Delhi are glossed over and made to look even endearing. In the end I found this to be less of a movie and more of a travel brochure.
Of course, John Madden's saving grace is the masterful cast of seasoned veterans that he has assembled. Really, the stars of the film are his casting director and his location scout, but in terms of acting he has a slew of actors ready to elevate an easy and fairly pointless script. Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson and a wonderful Maggie Smith are just a few of the massive names attached to the project, each of them giving far more than the film deserves. Wilkinson and Smith have the best stories, so it's a shame that they had a relatively small amount of screen time. What should have been theirs was given to Sonny's silly love story which was poorly written, poorly acted and very unengaging.
I can certainly see the appeal of such a film. There is most definitely a target audience that this is directed towards--the crowd who will be watching it in theatres on a Tuesday afternoon. That, however, was not me, and although the old people jokes were funny for a while, they soon became as dried out as the characters themselves. After that it was simply an hour of watching events unfold exactly as you expected them to. Heartache, love, death, happy endings for all. I half expected a conversation on the joys of menopause.
It's great fun watching terrific actors poke fun at themselves, I just wish they were brought together with a script worth their talents.
2/4
Issues arose for me as soon as I had this realization owing to the accurate assumptions that the film would then a series of formulas played out exactly, and there would be few realizations for the audience or for the characters themselves. There would be some heartache, some golden years romance, probably a death or two, but happy endings for all. Many thanks to writer Deborah Moggach would have been given were I placing money on my guesses. But I get ahead of myself...
In the late years of their lives seven seniors leave Ol' Blighty, which they believe doesn't care for their elderly, to move permanently to an Indian hotel specializing in looking after people late in their lives. It is run by spirited dreamer Sonny (Dev Patel, from "Slumdog Millionaire"), a hapless young man with aspirations aplenty but a decisive blindness to the reality that his hotel is destined for failure. The seven arrive with their lives in their suitcases, all their different stories folded up with stiff upper lips and bland biscuits, ready to pursue adventure in an exotic new world.
Amid the well-used stories about fears of uselessness and adapting to a new culture, I got the vague sense that the film was unwittingly making the claim that the Empire was grand and rose-colored days of the good ol' boys drinking brandy under the Raj needed reclamation and affirmation. It certainly accomplishes that, if that was indeed its goal. India seems full of charm and color; the extreme deprivation and horrible conditions of Delhi are glossed over and made to look even endearing. In the end I found this to be less of a movie and more of a travel brochure.
Of course, John Madden's saving grace is the masterful cast of seasoned veterans that he has assembled. Really, the stars of the film are his casting director and his location scout, but in terms of acting he has a slew of actors ready to elevate an easy and fairly pointless script. Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson and a wonderful Maggie Smith are just a few of the massive names attached to the project, each of them giving far more than the film deserves. Wilkinson and Smith have the best stories, so it's a shame that they had a relatively small amount of screen time. What should have been theirs was given to Sonny's silly love story which was poorly written, poorly acted and very unengaging.
I can certainly see the appeal of such a film. There is most definitely a target audience that this is directed towards--the crowd who will be watching it in theatres on a Tuesday afternoon. That, however, was not me, and although the old people jokes were funny for a while, they soon became as dried out as the characters themselves. After that it was simply an hour of watching events unfold exactly as you expected them to. Heartache, love, death, happy endings for all. I half expected a conversation on the joys of menopause.
It's great fun watching terrific actors poke fun at themselves, I just wish they were brought together with a script worth their talents.
2/4
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Fatal Attraction (1987)
When "Fatal Attraction" premiered in the late-80's it was a commercial and critical success, raking in cash at the box-office and heaps of praise from reviewers, mostly for a smart script and a scary good performance from Glenn Close. A comma in between "scary" and "good" would also have been acceptable as Close gives some electric acting that also sends pangs of fear straight down into your gut. Why it works for the great spectrum of viewers is because it has the makings of an excellent drama with the added twist of being a gripping thriller. There's a little something for everyone and a whole lot for a select few.
Michael Douglas stars as a copyright attorney named Dan, a happily married family man with a 6-year-old daughter who could possibly die of cuteness. At a promotional dinner for a new book Dan exchanges quick glances and mellow flirtations with the mysterious Alex (Close). We know that Dan is the cheating type even if he doesn't yet know it himself. After all, he's got a sexy wife, Beth (Anne Archer), with whom he has been in a monogamous relationship with for nine years. They're even planning on buying a house out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of New York. And yet we see that the seeds are planted.
After another few chance encounters Dan and Alex spend a weekend together while his family is away. I suppose if an audience member had been completely ignorant to the plot, not having seen the film's trailer, they might begin to ask questions about the nature of love, a man's susceptibility to female allure, and whether we as human beings have evolved enough that monogamy should necessarily trump our innate, primal instinct to procreate. But the rest of us know better.
Behind her charm and her pretty face Alex is every cheating man's worse nightmare--she's worse, as I expect no man who has ever had a moment of infidelity ever believed he was in bed with a deranged psychopath. Dan's weakness comes back to haunt him as the layers of Alex's facade peal away leaving a scarred, lonely, insane woman who has deluded herself into thinking a weekend fling has evolved into love, and she will stop at nothing to make Dan hers.
This film had a real danger of crossing into melodrama territory. Some of the scenes are almost absurd in how far from reality they venture, and the Alex character is almost too extreme to be real. I have no doubt that a person like her actually exists, but I do doubt that she could hide in plain sight as well as Alex does. In order for the film to have been a success it needed strong actors to play their roles unflinchingly. I wouldn't say Michael Douglass does a bad job, but in fact he merely sprints to keep up with Close whose gives everything to the role. The script calls for a beautiful woman, and although I have never thought of her as beautiful (unless it's a kind of ugly-pretty) there is a certain demureness about her. What makes her so incredibly frightening is that we don't blame Dan from sleeping with her in the first place, she has a strange allure about her. And when things come around to bite Dan in the rear we still don't blame him for falling into Alex's traps. Close succeeds because even in the realm of extremely crazy there is still a semblance of humanity about her. When she wants to be she can act normal, even endearing.
Adrian Lyne has made a movie that is a thriller in the most literal sense of the word. Occasionally it tries to draw suspense where it doesn't want to be found, but in the barest way the film thrills. As we progress through Dan and Alex's story each of his nine layers of Hell reveal something new to be horrified by. Every phone call is a harbinger of doom, and as we approach the ninth and final layer we have left the territory of drama and are firmly planted on the edge of our seats. I can't discuss the details for all the fun of watching is not knowing how Alex is going to one-up herself on the psycho-scale.
There are editing and continuity issues, many interesting points that never get discussed in detail, and a sell-out ending that I didn't appreciate, but on the whole the film is a triumph of what it takes to please the snobs while paying the bills. It is as smart as it is entertaining, and a film that doesn't take its audience for granted.
3/4
Michael Douglas stars as a copyright attorney named Dan, a happily married family man with a 6-year-old daughter who could possibly die of cuteness. At a promotional dinner for a new book Dan exchanges quick glances and mellow flirtations with the mysterious Alex (Close). We know that Dan is the cheating type even if he doesn't yet know it himself. After all, he's got a sexy wife, Beth (Anne Archer), with whom he has been in a monogamous relationship with for nine years. They're even planning on buying a house out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of New York. And yet we see that the seeds are planted.
After another few chance encounters Dan and Alex spend a weekend together while his family is away. I suppose if an audience member had been completely ignorant to the plot, not having seen the film's trailer, they might begin to ask questions about the nature of love, a man's susceptibility to female allure, and whether we as human beings have evolved enough that monogamy should necessarily trump our innate, primal instinct to procreate. But the rest of us know better.
Behind her charm and her pretty face Alex is every cheating man's worse nightmare--she's worse, as I expect no man who has ever had a moment of infidelity ever believed he was in bed with a deranged psychopath. Dan's weakness comes back to haunt him as the layers of Alex's facade peal away leaving a scarred, lonely, insane woman who has deluded herself into thinking a weekend fling has evolved into love, and she will stop at nothing to make Dan hers.
This film had a real danger of crossing into melodrama territory. Some of the scenes are almost absurd in how far from reality they venture, and the Alex character is almost too extreme to be real. I have no doubt that a person like her actually exists, but I do doubt that she could hide in plain sight as well as Alex does. In order for the film to have been a success it needed strong actors to play their roles unflinchingly. I wouldn't say Michael Douglass does a bad job, but in fact he merely sprints to keep up with Close whose gives everything to the role. The script calls for a beautiful woman, and although I have never thought of her as beautiful (unless it's a kind of ugly-pretty) there is a certain demureness about her. What makes her so incredibly frightening is that we don't blame Dan from sleeping with her in the first place, she has a strange allure about her. And when things come around to bite Dan in the rear we still don't blame him for falling into Alex's traps. Close succeeds because even in the realm of extremely crazy there is still a semblance of humanity about her. When she wants to be she can act normal, even endearing.
Adrian Lyne has made a movie that is a thriller in the most literal sense of the word. Occasionally it tries to draw suspense where it doesn't want to be found, but in the barest way the film thrills. As we progress through Dan and Alex's story each of his nine layers of Hell reveal something new to be horrified by. Every phone call is a harbinger of doom, and as we approach the ninth and final layer we have left the territory of drama and are firmly planted on the edge of our seats. I can't discuss the details for all the fun of watching is not knowing how Alex is going to one-up herself on the psycho-scale.
There are editing and continuity issues, many interesting points that never get discussed in detail, and a sell-out ending that I didn't appreciate, but on the whole the film is a triumph of what it takes to please the snobs while paying the bills. It is as smart as it is entertaining, and a film that doesn't take its audience for granted.
3/4
Friday, April 12, 2013
As Good as It Gets (1997)
Director James L. Brooks has hit it big, tenderly directing this pic about real and damaged worlds colliding when by all accounts they should never meet. Fronted by three smart and moving performances by Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt and Greg Kinnear, "As Good as It Gets" is a joyous, heartfelt and sometimes hilarious look at the way that passionate souls love, fight and love again.
Nicholson is in top form as Melvin Udall, a racist, curmudgeonly and entirely unpleasant obsessive compulsive writer, frittering away the hours in his locked room. His ticks go unseen and he is hesitant to talk about them, even having stopped going to therapy which he desperately needs. The very little social interaction he gets comes from his daily morning breakfast at a diner in Manhattan where all but one of the waitresses cringe when he enters. He spends his time shouting at the employees and making obscene comments to fellow customers in order to get them to leave his special table. Puzzling out this character for the first third of the film is a chore and half; people simply don't function the way Mr. Udall does, but it's kind of hysterical to watch him unabashedly insult people as he tries not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.
The one waitress in the restaurant who does tolerate him is Carol (Hunt), a middle-aged, single mother of a very sick little boy. She's tough as nails, yet exudes maternal warmth. She is blunt, focused, with so much care and passion all directed to her son's well-being, sacrificing her life in order to provide for him. An early scene shows her returning from a date to her one-bedroom apartment where she lives with her boy and her mother. Mom puts on headphones so as not to hear Carol and her beau fooling around, but when her son Spencer coughs, she rushes to him and helps him vomit into a trashcan. Carol returns to her date and accidentally gets some Spencer juice on his hands. He leaves saying, "Too much reality for a Friday night." That is her life. It is always reality.
When Melvin's gay neighbor Simon (Kinnear) is hospitalized after being attacked in his apartment by a gang of male prostitutes, the three people are brought together by Melvin's sudden urge to do altruistic good deeds, inspired by the brief companionship of a shaky lap dog. The precarious friendships form into blossoming relationships of trust and love, all the while tested by Melvin's big mouth and zig-zagging lightning mind. The complexities of each of them blend together like a shuffled deck of cards, creating a hand which is a surprise with each turn.
Mark Andrus' story is vivid, propelled along by its interesting and tangible characters who speak words from an occasionally brilliant script. Oftentimes it borders on a sweetness that is almost sickly, but there is enough honest emotion that keeps it grounded in the firm area of plain exuberance. Hunt, in particular, has the ability to rip at the heartstrings of the viewers and then make them laugh, all within the same line. The actress and the character both shine.
I read the list of actors and thought Nicholson and Hunt would have been a very odd pairing. Not only did their age difference make a romance seem unlikely, but their very styles of acting are so different that I imagined them to be incompatible. But like chili in chocolate those very different flavors combined into something very palatable. I often found myself with my pen forgotten simply soaking up two actors doing what they love best.
What makes the movie so enjoyable is seeing identifiable people struggle both internally and externally and in the end succeeding. Because the characters were so developed we cheer for Melvin even though he is insufferably unaware of how to interact with another human being. We watch Simon come to terms with his lack of artistic achievement, Carol scrape by with nothing to keep her going but a hug from Spencer, Melvin religiously turning the locks on his door five times each, and we praise them for trying to better themselves. When they triumph, we triumph. "As Good as It Gets" hits all the right notes and left me with a huge smile on my face and optimism in my heart.
3.5/4
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)
It is 1805, Napoleon is conquering Europe and only the tiny island nation of Great Britain with her mighty naval fleet stands in the way of the French emperor claiming the world. At the furthest ends of the earth, the southern tip of South America, the British captain "Lucky" Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) leads his crew in pursuit of a French war vessel, the Acheron, in attempt to claim her as their prize. The Acheron proves to be a formidable foe and an elusive one, and amidst Capt. Aubrey's struggles with God and nature, friendship and duty, he must simply try to hold fast.
Looking like some forgotten Rembrandt painting set in motion to the ebbs and swells of the tides, the majestically shot "Master and Commander" is a rousing war film whose detailed attention to life at sea sets it apart from others in its likeness. The battles are few and far in between which has probably irked quite a few audience members hoping to see non-stop action, though the two major skirmishes which bookend the film are expertly choreographed, bloody and beautiful.
Through most of the film, however, a somber, even delicate pace is set as we sail the seas with Jack and his crew. It might have grown tedious watching men deal with seasickness, rationing, class differences, men overboard, floggings, superstitious sailors and all other ocean bound cliches thrown into the mix, were the characters not all so well developed and the movie made with such artistry. It is not a story about epic fighting, it is one about men, and those are the best of war films.
Set to the music of Mozart, Bach, and my personal favorite, Boccherini, the image of the 19th Century Englishman is one painted in romantic and illustrious hews. Here we have what I as an historian love most: the British Empire depicted in all of its ambitious glory. The concept of the empire fascinates me; there is something incredibly endearing to me about a world in which men were men and their word was law. It was a racist and misogynistic time, but those words were not coined and therefore irrelevant. What is relevant is that men were educated, well-rounded, had excellent manners and impeccable etiquette, had pride in themselves and their nation, and in general had a curiosity about the world. Director Peter Weir has captured all of these qualities in one very fine picture.
I first saw "Master and Commander" in theaters when I was 13-years-old and was utterly blown away by certain scenes. There are images from the movie which have stayed in my head since that initial viewing, and upon rewatching it I found that they had not diminished or altered with age. I expect it would be difficult to watch the film without having profound respect for the men who actually lived these lives. I certainly felt emasculated watch a man perform surgery on himself.
I realized this last time why I remembered these scenes so vividly. Weir has a firm grasp of the concept that when creating a suspenseful scene, less is more. In watching an arm being amputated or the doctor opening himself up, or Jack approaching the Acheron, hidden in mist, it is not what you see that is important, but the holes the audience fills in for themselves. Only once do we ever get a good look at the enemy, and that's why this film is so successful at what it does. Not only is it a masterfully made movie with excellent special effects and fantastic cinematography, it also knows that the greatest adventure is in the minds of men. No matter how grizzly or frightening or gripping a scene may be done in full view, what is left to the imagination is always far more interesting.
3.5/4
Looking like some forgotten Rembrandt painting set in motion to the ebbs and swells of the tides, the majestically shot "Master and Commander" is a rousing war film whose detailed attention to life at sea sets it apart from others in its likeness. The battles are few and far in between which has probably irked quite a few audience members hoping to see non-stop action, though the two major skirmishes which bookend the film are expertly choreographed, bloody and beautiful.
Through most of the film, however, a somber, even delicate pace is set as we sail the seas with Jack and his crew. It might have grown tedious watching men deal with seasickness, rationing, class differences, men overboard, floggings, superstitious sailors and all other ocean bound cliches thrown into the mix, were the characters not all so well developed and the movie made with such artistry. It is not a story about epic fighting, it is one about men, and those are the best of war films.
Set to the music of Mozart, Bach, and my personal favorite, Boccherini, the image of the 19th Century Englishman is one painted in romantic and illustrious hews. Here we have what I as an historian love most: the British Empire depicted in all of its ambitious glory. The concept of the empire fascinates me; there is something incredibly endearing to me about a world in which men were men and their word was law. It was a racist and misogynistic time, but those words were not coined and therefore irrelevant. What is relevant is that men were educated, well-rounded, had excellent manners and impeccable etiquette, had pride in themselves and their nation, and in general had a curiosity about the world. Director Peter Weir has captured all of these qualities in one very fine picture.
I first saw "Master and Commander" in theaters when I was 13-years-old and was utterly blown away by certain scenes. There are images from the movie which have stayed in my head since that initial viewing, and upon rewatching it I found that they had not diminished or altered with age. I expect it would be difficult to watch the film without having profound respect for the men who actually lived these lives. I certainly felt emasculated watch a man perform surgery on himself.
I realized this last time why I remembered these scenes so vividly. Weir has a firm grasp of the concept that when creating a suspenseful scene, less is more. In watching an arm being amputated or the doctor opening himself up, or Jack approaching the Acheron, hidden in mist, it is not what you see that is important, but the holes the audience fills in for themselves. Only once do we ever get a good look at the enemy, and that's why this film is so successful at what it does. Not only is it a masterfully made movie with excellent special effects and fantastic cinematography, it also knows that the greatest adventure is in the minds of men. No matter how grizzly or frightening or gripping a scene may be done in full view, what is left to the imagination is always far more interesting.
3.5/4
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Blade Runner (1982)
There are dishearteningly few films that are so original and so visually stunning that they rip the audience out of their seats and transport them into an entirely new world. "Metropolis" is one of them, "Star Wars" is another. Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner" leapt into its spot next to those masterpieces as a film of such novel power that it really cannot be compared to any other movie. It is a landmark of science fiction and neo-noir, and a benchmark of what it means to achieve creating a fully formed, uncompromising vision.
Los Angeles circa 2019 is an ugly cesspool of crime and dirt. It looks as if an industrial complex mated with the ghettos and spawned a black filth which enveloped up the city. Steam stacks belch out fire and smoke; the metropolis is a haze of greens and yellows, tobaccos and grays. Yet this is the center of the world, for it is where the replicants are made--androids so lifelike they are nearly indistinguishable from their human counterparts.
A new phase in development has created the Nexus 6 models. Very intelligent, strong and fast, the machines are used as slave labor on hazardous worlds where precious minerals are collected. A member of the corporation who developed the model tells us early on that the machines were so intelligent that they risked developing emotions, so a fail-safe feature was implanted in the models to keep this from happening: a four year lifespan. When a group of four renegade robots hijack a ship and return to Earth to meet their maker, demanding more life, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a blade runner or replicant hunter, is brought out of retirement to terminate the machines.
At its grittiest surface this is an excellent example of the inspiration taken from the noir films of the 1940s adapted for the present--or the future, in this case. The hard bitten cop hunts his enemies in a shifty city of double-talkers, backstabbers, and shifty-eyed liars. Everyone is a threat, and Deckard's prey are like phantoms drifting in and out of mist. But being projected into the future (an ever nearing one, I might add. I certainly hope L.A. never ends up looking that), the mystery is made all the more special as Deckard hunts beings who look just like everyone else.
Beneath that initial layer, "Blade Runner" is actually a complex, existential meditation on the question of what it means to be human. The femme fatale character, Rachael (Sean Young), is a replicant herself, but didn't know it before meeting Deckard. Memories of a past were implanted into her artificial brain and even he, the most skilled blade runner, had a difficult time in determining she wasn't human. Is it ethical to terminate something that has no knowledge that it isn't actually alive? Are human synapses in the brain that trigger emotions all that different than the wires crossed in a machine's "mind"? And my own question, is it ethical to create an artificial being which has the capability of becoming too lifelike? Perhaps that these Nexus 6 robots demand more life is enough of sign that they are too human. After all, isn't a desire of abundance and a fear of death two major aspects of what it means to be alive?
I have seen multiple versions of this film. The 25th anniversary addition parried down a lot of material, changed the ending--for the better, in my mind--and removed a lot of voice over narration work that Ford did in the original release. I think that all of these changes better the film. What is left seems more like an homage to a film style long since past, as opposed to a cheesy attempt to recreate it, merely dressing it up with a sci-fi element.
But even if you do happen to see the original cut of the film I have no doubt that you will be awestruck by the grandness and visionary boldness of what Scott brought to the screen. Exemplary use of lighting, fantastic costumes and some of the best sets in any film ever make this an exciting and memorable movie-going experience. I use the word "experience" intentionally. This isn't something simply to watch, it won't let you be so passive. No, this is a film to embrace and be swallowed up by. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and "Blade Runner" flings open the shutters and climbs right in.
4/4
Los Angeles circa 2019 is an ugly cesspool of crime and dirt. It looks as if an industrial complex mated with the ghettos and spawned a black filth which enveloped up the city. Steam stacks belch out fire and smoke; the metropolis is a haze of greens and yellows, tobaccos and grays. Yet this is the center of the world, for it is where the replicants are made--androids so lifelike they are nearly indistinguishable from their human counterparts.
A new phase in development has created the Nexus 6 models. Very intelligent, strong and fast, the machines are used as slave labor on hazardous worlds where precious minerals are collected. A member of the corporation who developed the model tells us early on that the machines were so intelligent that they risked developing emotions, so a fail-safe feature was implanted in the models to keep this from happening: a four year lifespan. When a group of four renegade robots hijack a ship and return to Earth to meet their maker, demanding more life, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a blade runner or replicant hunter, is brought out of retirement to terminate the machines.
At its grittiest surface this is an excellent example of the inspiration taken from the noir films of the 1940s adapted for the present--or the future, in this case. The hard bitten cop hunts his enemies in a shifty city of double-talkers, backstabbers, and shifty-eyed liars. Everyone is a threat, and Deckard's prey are like phantoms drifting in and out of mist. But being projected into the future (an ever nearing one, I might add. I certainly hope L.A. never ends up looking that), the mystery is made all the more special as Deckard hunts beings who look just like everyone else.
Beneath that initial layer, "Blade Runner" is actually a complex, existential meditation on the question of what it means to be human. The femme fatale character, Rachael (Sean Young), is a replicant herself, but didn't know it before meeting Deckard. Memories of a past were implanted into her artificial brain and even he, the most skilled blade runner, had a difficult time in determining she wasn't human. Is it ethical to terminate something that has no knowledge that it isn't actually alive? Are human synapses in the brain that trigger emotions all that different than the wires crossed in a machine's "mind"? And my own question, is it ethical to create an artificial being which has the capability of becoming too lifelike? Perhaps that these Nexus 6 robots demand more life is enough of sign that they are too human. After all, isn't a desire of abundance and a fear of death two major aspects of what it means to be alive?
I have seen multiple versions of this film. The 25th anniversary addition parried down a lot of material, changed the ending--for the better, in my mind--and removed a lot of voice over narration work that Ford did in the original release. I think that all of these changes better the film. What is left seems more like an homage to a film style long since past, as opposed to a cheesy attempt to recreate it, merely dressing it up with a sci-fi element.
But even if you do happen to see the original cut of the film I have no doubt that you will be awestruck by the grandness and visionary boldness of what Scott brought to the screen. Exemplary use of lighting, fantastic costumes and some of the best sets in any film ever make this an exciting and memorable movie-going experience. I use the word "experience" intentionally. This isn't something simply to watch, it won't let you be so passive. No, this is a film to embrace and be swallowed up by. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and "Blade Runner" flings open the shutters and climbs right in.
4/4
Monday, April 8, 2013
Headhunters (2011)
Ah, the Scandinavians. Industrious, pragmatic, neutral, putting the common man before the machine. It's a pretty picture, no? "Headhunters" sets to break the stereotypes and show that the dark underbelly of the world can sometimes rise to such great heights that even amongst the happiest people in the world the mighty Dollar still reigns supreme--even trumping human life.
Based on the novel by Jo Nesbo, Morten Tyldum's Norwegian crime thriller centers on a headhunter named Roger Brown whose duty it is to find the cream of the crop for an ultra-powerful tech company. Standing at 5'6", the admittedly overcompensating Roger lives in an enormous--if terribly ugly--house, dresses whip-smart, and keeps a stunning wife on his arm. His insecurities run deep, but his lavish lifestyle and an acidic silver tongue have built him a career based on reputation. Reputation is everything, reputation is key.
Crippled with debt, Roger affords his luxuries and buys his wife with money collected from his other interesting hobby: art thievery. Having a knack for spotting the real deal, he and his scummy associate, Ove, make a small fortune swapping works of precious art with replicas. But when Roger nabs an original and long lost Rubens from the wrong man, a super smart ex-mercenary and former competitor from the monolith HOTE named Clas Greve, he finds his own head is now the one being hunted.
This is visceral, bloody, action-packed movie, made all the better by being built upon an interesting and original premise. I have a lot of problems with the film and there are holes in the plot big enough to drive a semi truck through, but a lot of credit is owed to this movie for hooking the audience and not letting them go. Roger is played by Aksel Hennie who looks remarkably similar to a younger Willem Dafoe. In a film so focused on guns, car crashes, and sleekly dressed men doing inhuman feats, Hennie brings the heart where I didn't think it could be found, and keeps the story rooted somewhere in the distant reaches of reality.
Where the film goes astray is in its big reveal. We spend over an hour watching Roger being chased around the country, seemingly over a stolen painting, and when we finally find out what all the violence is really about it turns out to be far more trivial and a bit of a let down. I'm not sure if this is really a spoiler, but you've been pseudo warned: it's about a job. That well-worn concept of the evil corporation allowing human casualties for human gain gets yet another face here. I assume the idea is supposed to scare the common man like myself, but I always imagine faceless men in suits and some sort of possessed skyscraper out to get me. Buildings are not very scary, nor do I really care.
I also don't really like how well Roger succeeds at eluding a person made out to be extremely dangerous and well-trained. After all, the man is 5'6" and not terribly imposing. He works in an office and his adventurous second job only involves him being stealthy. I love a good film about what a person will do in order to survive--it's one of my interests in my own writing--but the concept of the film doesn't really allow any believability in Roger surviving. What skills could he possibly have which would allow him to evade a supersoldier like Clas? The man doesn't even own a gun.
The film is definitely a step above most of the rest, but it also leaves some questions unanswered, such as how Clas new that Roger was an art thief, why HOTE only put one man on the job to kill Roger, and why the hunt didn't continue after things didn't go according to plan. There is also a silly subplot about Roger not wanting to give his wife a child (part of that "heart" I was talking about earlier) which took up far too much time.
Although it was a mixed bag, I think "Headhunters" is an intelligent success. Watch it hard enough to follow along, but don't watch too hard or you might just find yourself agreeing with me.
2.5/4
Based on the novel by Jo Nesbo, Morten Tyldum's Norwegian crime thriller centers on a headhunter named Roger Brown whose duty it is to find the cream of the crop for an ultra-powerful tech company. Standing at 5'6", the admittedly overcompensating Roger lives in an enormous--if terribly ugly--house, dresses whip-smart, and keeps a stunning wife on his arm. His insecurities run deep, but his lavish lifestyle and an acidic silver tongue have built him a career based on reputation. Reputation is everything, reputation is key.
Crippled with debt, Roger affords his luxuries and buys his wife with money collected from his other interesting hobby: art thievery. Having a knack for spotting the real deal, he and his scummy associate, Ove, make a small fortune swapping works of precious art with replicas. But when Roger nabs an original and long lost Rubens from the wrong man, a super smart ex-mercenary and former competitor from the monolith HOTE named Clas Greve, he finds his own head is now the one being hunted.
This is visceral, bloody, action-packed movie, made all the better by being built upon an interesting and original premise. I have a lot of problems with the film and there are holes in the plot big enough to drive a semi truck through, but a lot of credit is owed to this movie for hooking the audience and not letting them go. Roger is played by Aksel Hennie who looks remarkably similar to a younger Willem Dafoe. In a film so focused on guns, car crashes, and sleekly dressed men doing inhuman feats, Hennie brings the heart where I didn't think it could be found, and keeps the story rooted somewhere in the distant reaches of reality.
Where the film goes astray is in its big reveal. We spend over an hour watching Roger being chased around the country, seemingly over a stolen painting, and when we finally find out what all the violence is really about it turns out to be far more trivial and a bit of a let down. I'm not sure if this is really a spoiler, but you've been pseudo warned: it's about a job. That well-worn concept of the evil corporation allowing human casualties for human gain gets yet another face here. I assume the idea is supposed to scare the common man like myself, but I always imagine faceless men in suits and some sort of possessed skyscraper out to get me. Buildings are not very scary, nor do I really care.
I also don't really like how well Roger succeeds at eluding a person made out to be extremely dangerous and well-trained. After all, the man is 5'6" and not terribly imposing. He works in an office and his adventurous second job only involves him being stealthy. I love a good film about what a person will do in order to survive--it's one of my interests in my own writing--but the concept of the film doesn't really allow any believability in Roger surviving. What skills could he possibly have which would allow him to evade a supersoldier like Clas? The man doesn't even own a gun.
The film is definitely a step above most of the rest, but it also leaves some questions unanswered, such as how Clas new that Roger was an art thief, why HOTE only put one man on the job to kill Roger, and why the hunt didn't continue after things didn't go according to plan. There is also a silly subplot about Roger not wanting to give his wife a child (part of that "heart" I was talking about earlier) which took up far too much time.
Although it was a mixed bag, I think "Headhunters" is an intelligent success. Watch it hard enough to follow along, but don't watch too hard or you might just find yourself agreeing with me.
2.5/4
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Clerks. (1994)
A lot of people talk with me about film (or I talk to them, rather) and assume that my love of auteurism envelops my taste and makes me disregard the mainstream altogether. I would say that I have a fondness for the eclectic, but that only goes so far. Really, what I look for in a movie is a statement, a purpose, a sense of direction. My favorite films are those that know exactly what they want to be and what they want to say, and those that succeed in presenting that vision to their audience. They don't have to be revolutionary, they just need to be honest.
"Clerks." is about as honest a film as they come and I enjoyed it very much. It presents a day in the life of two hapless clerks named Dante and Randall as they eek out their minimum wage lives doing God knows what. I was immediately reminded of "Office Space" which came out five years after "Clerks.", but is an obvious and loving descendant of this film about the angry youth fixed in a life of seeming repetition. This is for every young man who worked a thankless job, half-heartedly putting in the equivalent effort of what the job gave him in return, and who made problems out of nothing simply to break up the monotony.
Dante is called in on his one day off to man a dumpy little convenience store. Next door to him is Randall who pretends to manage a video store. The two talk film, fight with customers, bicker about relationships and the fact that their lives are going nowhere. They are every 22-year-old and they are hilarious. Along their mishap-filled day the two play hockey on their roof, disrupt a wake, and inadvertently aide in a case of necrophilia. It's absurd, but what can you do? As seemingly dull their days might be they are people nonetheless, and people hate boredom.
The star of the film is its writer, Kevin Smith, who was also its director. This was obviously a first film endeavor and he certainly didn't have the technical skills nor the cast to make this a "good" piece of cinema. But the man is sharp as a tack and has obviously been a Dante, a Randall, a Jay, a Silent Bob. Smith's words are witty, his characters are spot on, and it is all too clear that he's smoked his fair share of the green stuff in the alley behind whatever convenience store he used to work at. In fact, he probably worked their at the same time he made this film just to pay for its minimal production costs.
There is just something really pure about a film that doesn't intend to create. All "Clerks." wants to do is show a group of people who would never normally be shown, doing things that nobody would ever care to watch. It's both a celebration and a damnation of all things that make a young person's life both great and terrible, with all the sex, drugs and rock n' roll that go along with it. It is both exuberant and apathetic, muddied yet exact in its depiction; it's a real conundrum and it is fascinating.
The punctuation mark in its title is as stark and definite as the black and white that it is shot in. Our wise Randall tells Dante and every bonehead new adult in the audience, "Shit, or get off the pot." This film definitely shits, and what a movement it is.
3/4
"Clerks." is about as honest a film as they come and I enjoyed it very much. It presents a day in the life of two hapless clerks named Dante and Randall as they eek out their minimum wage lives doing God knows what. I was immediately reminded of "Office Space" which came out five years after "Clerks.", but is an obvious and loving descendant of this film about the angry youth fixed in a life of seeming repetition. This is for every young man who worked a thankless job, half-heartedly putting in the equivalent effort of what the job gave him in return, and who made problems out of nothing simply to break up the monotony.
Dante is called in on his one day off to man a dumpy little convenience store. Next door to him is Randall who pretends to manage a video store. The two talk film, fight with customers, bicker about relationships and the fact that their lives are going nowhere. They are every 22-year-old and they are hilarious. Along their mishap-filled day the two play hockey on their roof, disrupt a wake, and inadvertently aide in a case of necrophilia. It's absurd, but what can you do? As seemingly dull their days might be they are people nonetheless, and people hate boredom.
The star of the film is its writer, Kevin Smith, who was also its director. This was obviously a first film endeavor and he certainly didn't have the technical skills nor the cast to make this a "good" piece of cinema. But the man is sharp as a tack and has obviously been a Dante, a Randall, a Jay, a Silent Bob. Smith's words are witty, his characters are spot on, and it is all too clear that he's smoked his fair share of the green stuff in the alley behind whatever convenience store he used to work at. In fact, he probably worked their at the same time he made this film just to pay for its minimal production costs.
There is just something really pure about a film that doesn't intend to create. All "Clerks." wants to do is show a group of people who would never normally be shown, doing things that nobody would ever care to watch. It's both a celebration and a damnation of all things that make a young person's life both great and terrible, with all the sex, drugs and rock n' roll that go along with it. It is both exuberant and apathetic, muddied yet exact in its depiction; it's a real conundrum and it is fascinating.
The punctuation mark in its title is as stark and definite as the black and white that it is shot in. Our wise Randall tells Dante and every bonehead new adult in the audience, "Shit, or get off the pot." This film definitely shits, and what a movement it is.
3/4
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011)
Many congratulations to Elizabeth Olsen for escaping the shadow of her two older sisters and establishing herself as a young force to be reckoned with. A challenging first role proves that this girl not only has the gorgeous face of a leading lady in the making, but also has the acting chops to qualify what I hope will be many starring roles to come. Although "Martha Marcy May Marlene" leaves a lot to be desired I was never left desiring more from its star.
Olsen plays the wounded and unstable Martha--or Marcy May, or Marlene, depending on who you are talking to--who after two years off the grid calls up her sister in hysterics. She has escaped from a secluded farm where she was the member of an abusive cult headed by the enigmatic Patrick (John Hawkes), full of falsely wise words and conflicting arguments. As she tries to reengage with the real world and connect to her estranged family, growing paranoia seeps in as Martha senses her location has been compromised.
The film is told in two parallel story lines: the primary examining Martha as she readjusts to living in the lavish comfort of the summer home rented by her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and her wealthy husband (Hugh Dancy), and the other where Marcy May is indoctrinated and brainwashed into her "new family". The second acts as a supplement to explain Martha's erratic and occasionally violent behavior, as we see the conflict of her mind being broken and mended simultaneously.
Writer-director Sean Durkin has made a very promising first feature-length movie which shows his talent for suspense and some rather skillful dialogue. He found an excellent muse in Olsen who showed no inhibitions in front of the camera and who was willing to go down the very dark road that Durkin set out for her. Martha is a dangerous girl, not by choice but out of circumstance. Durkin set out to do what many before him have done, blending the real and the surreal and breaking the walls of comfort for the audience where what goes bump in the night might not be such an abstract boogeyman. The two of them largely succeed and the film held my attention.
Durkin did struggle in fleshing out what I imagine would be the primary interest of the audience: the inner workings of the cult (it was for me, at least). A cult needs to have some sort of doctrine with a primary objective, and is marked by the leadership of a single figure. The latter it certainly had, Patrick being the older, strangely hypnotic figurehead who has surrounded himself with a group of naive, beautiful young people. As to their doctrine I have no idea what they were about. Their farmhouse contains probably twenty or so people living there, all of them sharing a few rooms, the same clothes and helping the family in their own unique ways. It largely resembled a commune, founded on subsistence living but without the presence of drugs or alcohol. They ground themselves in free love and the relinquishing of material comforts, but to what end I don't know. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their actions which become inexplicably violent, and there is no information given to explain how a girl like Martha could allow herself to become Marcy May.
Then there is the matter of the ending. As Martha's dreams and memories become mixed with what we figure to be reality, the film turns from a drama about a traumatized girl having to learn to function normally all over again into a psychological thriller where the ghosts of her past come to haunt her. The pace quickens as it should, the tension mounts, then suddenly and unpleasantly the credits roll. There is no final payoff and only a hint that murky faces were indeed known to her.
He cannot be criticized too harshly for these points though. The plot was more focused on the here and now, and Martha's broken relationship with Lucy. In all it this is a success and an interesting one at that. It may not change the game for moviemaking in general, but it certainly put Olsen on the map and that should be good enough for anyone.
3/4
Olsen plays the wounded and unstable Martha--or Marcy May, or Marlene, depending on who you are talking to--who after two years off the grid calls up her sister in hysterics. She has escaped from a secluded farm where she was the member of an abusive cult headed by the enigmatic Patrick (John Hawkes), full of falsely wise words and conflicting arguments. As she tries to reengage with the real world and connect to her estranged family, growing paranoia seeps in as Martha senses her location has been compromised.
The film is told in two parallel story lines: the primary examining Martha as she readjusts to living in the lavish comfort of the summer home rented by her sister Lucy (Sarah Paulson) and her wealthy husband (Hugh Dancy), and the other where Marcy May is indoctrinated and brainwashed into her "new family". The second acts as a supplement to explain Martha's erratic and occasionally violent behavior, as we see the conflict of her mind being broken and mended simultaneously.
Writer-director Sean Durkin has made a very promising first feature-length movie which shows his talent for suspense and some rather skillful dialogue. He found an excellent muse in Olsen who showed no inhibitions in front of the camera and who was willing to go down the very dark road that Durkin set out for her. Martha is a dangerous girl, not by choice but out of circumstance. Durkin set out to do what many before him have done, blending the real and the surreal and breaking the walls of comfort for the audience where what goes bump in the night might not be such an abstract boogeyman. The two of them largely succeed and the film held my attention.
Durkin did struggle in fleshing out what I imagine would be the primary interest of the audience: the inner workings of the cult (it was for me, at least). A cult needs to have some sort of doctrine with a primary objective, and is marked by the leadership of a single figure. The latter it certainly had, Patrick being the older, strangely hypnotic figurehead who has surrounded himself with a group of naive, beautiful young people. As to their doctrine I have no idea what they were about. Their farmhouse contains probably twenty or so people living there, all of them sharing a few rooms, the same clothes and helping the family in their own unique ways. It largely resembled a commune, founded on subsistence living but without the presence of drugs or alcohol. They ground themselves in free love and the relinquishing of material comforts, but to what end I don't know. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their actions which become inexplicably violent, and there is no information given to explain how a girl like Martha could allow herself to become Marcy May.
Then there is the matter of the ending. As Martha's dreams and memories become mixed with what we figure to be reality, the film turns from a drama about a traumatized girl having to learn to function normally all over again into a psychological thriller where the ghosts of her past come to haunt her. The pace quickens as it should, the tension mounts, then suddenly and unpleasantly the credits roll. There is no final payoff and only a hint that murky faces were indeed known to her.
He cannot be criticized too harshly for these points though. The plot was more focused on the here and now, and Martha's broken relationship with Lucy. In all it this is a success and an interesting one at that. It may not change the game for moviemaking in general, but it certainly put Olsen on the map and that should be good enough for anyone.
3/4
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