[* another post suggested by my brother!]
The recent release of the holiday family feature with the unfortunate title of "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium," prompted a critic at msn.com to come up with his ten worst movie titles. It's a good list, and I tried not to repeat too many of them in my list below. But he left out some glaring examples -- I've tried to stick to more recent movies (who would guess that the British would have a penchant for bad movie titles?)
10. "Finnegan Begin Again" (1985) -- I know, I know, this lame TV movie starring Robert Preston and Mary Tyler Moore doesn't even qualify -- and it would be completely forgotten by now except for its stupid title -- but I hate, hate, HATE the title so much, I am making an exception.
9. Boys on the Side (1995) -- a movie with a lot going for it, like a respected director (Herbert Ross) and an engaging cast (Mary Louise Parker, Whoopi Goldberg, Drew Barrymore and a very young Matthew McConnaughey!) But obviously the studio suits were so freaked-out by the lesbian storyline -- the Indigo Girls cameo must've given it away! -- that they did everything in their power to label it with as innocuous-sounding a title as possible. Job well done.
8. I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With (2007) -- I'm not upset that the title ends with a preposition as much as I am with the fact that a comedian with an obvious obesity problem (Jeff Garlin of "Curb Your Enthusiasm") enforces the stereotype by referencing eating in the title of his first movie! It encourages comments like "You've obviously found plenty of people to eat cheese with... and fries... and ice cream...."
7. Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking your Juice in the Hood (1996) -- I was going to give this movie a pass (it is a send-up, after all) but the phrase "while drinking your juice" is so tortured and unimaginative -- not to mention out-of-touch with the culture it parodies (WHO remembers the movie "Juice" anymore?) -- that it demands inclusion.
6. Divine Secrets of the Sweet Potato Queen's Ya-Ya Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants -- okay I made this up, but it's more clever than the Wayans' Brothers! (see #7). Think of this entry as a tie among all those lame-assed, 'chick lit' books that always seem to find an audience of book-club-loving women experiencing mid-life-crises (you get 'em, too, you know you do!). And the 'Sweet Potato Queen' isn't even a movie ... YET (no doubt someone is waiting for an opening in Sandra Bullock's schedule).
5. Hideous Kinky (UK 1998) -- Kate Winslet's first movie after her blockbuster break-out in "Titanic," this British indie is set in North Africa in 1972, but contrary to its title, it is neither hideous nor kinky! These two random adjectives, in fact, are the two favorite words her little girls use to mimic their fellow British travelers. What does it tell you about the movie? Nothing.
4. Nil by Mouth (UK 1997) -- Actor Gary Oldman makes his directing debut with a title that is incomprehensible to anyone outside of Britain. Apparently, the title refers to the instructions on prescription pills, translated as 'don't eat anything with this medicine.' Good to know for future reference, Gary, but what purpose does it serve as a movie title???
3. Wah-Wah (UK 2005) -- Another British import, again about more unwelcomed British ex-pats in Africa (which begs the question "where are they welcomed?") and their wacky customs. Coincidentally, the title is the phrase the one American character uses to disparage the Brits silly slang.
2. Freddy Got Fingered (2001) -- the less said about this monstrosity, the better.
And the Number 1 Worst Movie Title of All Time ......
1. OCTOPUSSY (1983) -- this choice needs no explanation. It is as big an embarrassment today as it was 24 years ago (I was in college, and it still made me cringe!)
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
"I'm not here"
The above message flashes on the screen during the opening credits of 'I'm Not There," Todd Haynes' pseudo biography of the enigmatic Bob Dylan. I remember that line because for long stretches of this movie I felt:
a) I wish I wasn't here, stuck in this frustrating mess if a movie; and b) Bob Dylan himself is largely absent from what is billed as his life story.
The filmmaker's well-documented gimmick of using six different actors to portray the many sides of Dylan is just that -- a gimmick. [And not even an original one: Todd Solondz thought of it first for his "Palindromes."] From the beginning it alienates the audience from ever engaging in the story, and by the end, you are left thinking you are watching random clips from several different movies.
That is a shame, because at least three of these snippets from the life of someone who sounds alot like Dylan could have turned into a watchable film. I'd love to see more of both Christian Bale and unknown Ben Whishaw; unfortunatley, Haynes wastes these two performances by relegating them to bit parts in their own movie. Bale's scenes are in the context of a faux documentary of the early, folkie Dylan-- never was there a lazier way for a screenwriter to tell a story. Julianne Moore is even more misused as a stand-in for Joan Baez in this lame and uninteresting device. Whishaw has a more difficult task: pretend you are testifying before some sort of Congressional committee as Arthur Rimbaud. (I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to!)
The third story that works is, of course, Cate Blanchett's brilliant star turn. But, in fairness, she is given the most screen time, the most-coherent storyline, and the best lines! Heath Ledger, playing an actor who played Christian Bale's character in a movie version of his life, gets the next most screen time--but who is he and what is his problem, exactly? We never find out. Annoyingly, each of these facets of Dylan is given a different character name, adding needless confusion to an already confusing conceit.
At its best, the movie attempts to delve into the obscure lyrics and contradictory personalities that defined Dylan at various points in his life. One of the best scenes plays like a glorified music video for "Ballad of a Thin Man" (pulling that off in the context of a film is no mean feat, as Julie Taymor recently found out the hard way). Charlotte Gainsbourg and Michelle Williams, as Dylan's wife and one of his unlikely flings, Edie Sedgwick, respectively, make striking impressions. But why bother investing in these characters, when you know the rug is about to be pulled out from under them (and you) soon enough?
The most-tiring episode (for me) was a sentimentalized depiction of Dylan's own myth-making: the one that has him starting out as a travelling folk musician in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. Haynes uses the character of a precocious black kid to personify the formative influences of the artist. Give me a break! Robert Zimmerman was from 'b.f.' Minnesota ... Deal with THAT reality, Haynes! Don't buy into his mythologizing of a childhood that was uniquely, normally -- even boringly --American. A critical look at that reality would make for a compelling sequence, not some too-cute homage to both the folk and blues music that Dylan somehow drew on and assimilated from his most ordinary of upbringings.
The entire enterprise reminds me of another 'ambitious failure' -- an end-of-year movie category I created especially for such a movie -- Steven Shainberg's "Fur: an Imaginary Portrait" (of Diane Arbus). It takes quite a bit of hubris to use the life of a gifted artist as a jumping off point for your own flights of self-important, often delusional, artistry. I don't know the details of Dylan's life and career; what's more, I resent having to research that life to figure out what the hell was going on in this movie! Sure, D.A. Pennebaker filmed a documentary called "Don't Look Back." And Dylan himself had a bit part in a movie called "Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid." I didn't see either of them; if you saw them both, then you might appreciate this movie more than I did. Maybe.
As for the sixth actor to portray Dylan, I have nothing bad to say about Richard Gere. He does a nice job with his material. My problem? What the f**k is his material doing in this movie??
[The above review brought to you as a public service, so you won't have to sit through this movie and wonder why I didn't warn you away from it. Consider yourself warned.]
a) I wish I wasn't here, stuck in this frustrating mess if a movie; and b) Bob Dylan himself is largely absent from what is billed as his life story.
The filmmaker's well-documented gimmick of using six different actors to portray the many sides of Dylan is just that -- a gimmick. [And not even an original one: Todd Solondz thought of it first for his "Palindromes."] From the beginning it alienates the audience from ever engaging in the story, and by the end, you are left thinking you are watching random clips from several different movies.
That is a shame, because at least three of these snippets from the life of someone who sounds alot like Dylan could have turned into a watchable film. I'd love to see more of both Christian Bale and unknown Ben Whishaw; unfortunatley, Haynes wastes these two performances by relegating them to bit parts in their own movie. Bale's scenes are in the context of a faux documentary of the early, folkie Dylan-- never was there a lazier way for a screenwriter to tell a story. Julianne Moore is even more misused as a stand-in for Joan Baez in this lame and uninteresting device. Whishaw has a more difficult task: pretend you are testifying before some sort of Congressional committee as Arthur Rimbaud. (I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to!)
The third story that works is, of course, Cate Blanchett's brilliant star turn. But, in fairness, she is given the most screen time, the most-coherent storyline, and the best lines! Heath Ledger, playing an actor who played Christian Bale's character in a movie version of his life, gets the next most screen time--but who is he and what is his problem, exactly? We never find out. Annoyingly, each of these facets of Dylan is given a different character name, adding needless confusion to an already confusing conceit.
At its best, the movie attempts to delve into the obscure lyrics and contradictory personalities that defined Dylan at various points in his life. One of the best scenes plays like a glorified music video for "Ballad of a Thin Man" (pulling that off in the context of a film is no mean feat, as Julie Taymor recently found out the hard way). Charlotte Gainsbourg and Michelle Williams, as Dylan's wife and one of his unlikely flings, Edie Sedgwick, respectively, make striking impressions. But why bother investing in these characters, when you know the rug is about to be pulled out from under them (and you) soon enough?
The most-tiring episode (for me) was a sentimentalized depiction of Dylan's own myth-making: the one that has him starting out as a travelling folk musician in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. Haynes uses the character of a precocious black kid to personify the formative influences of the artist. Give me a break! Robert Zimmerman was from 'b.f.' Minnesota ... Deal with THAT reality, Haynes! Don't buy into his mythologizing of a childhood that was uniquely, normally -- even boringly --American. A critical look at that reality would make for a compelling sequence, not some too-cute homage to both the folk and blues music that Dylan somehow drew on and assimilated from his most ordinary of upbringings.
The entire enterprise reminds me of another 'ambitious failure' -- an end-of-year movie category I created especially for such a movie -- Steven Shainberg's "Fur: an Imaginary Portrait" (of Diane Arbus). It takes quite a bit of hubris to use the life of a gifted artist as a jumping off point for your own flights of self-important, often delusional, artistry. I don't know the details of Dylan's life and career; what's more, I resent having to research that life to figure out what the hell was going on in this movie! Sure, D.A. Pennebaker filmed a documentary called "Don't Look Back." And Dylan himself had a bit part in a movie called "Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid." I didn't see either of them; if you saw them both, then you might appreciate this movie more than I did. Maybe.
As for the sixth actor to portray Dylan, I have nothing bad to say about Richard Gere. He does a nice job with his material. My problem? What the f**k is his material doing in this movie??
[The above review brought to you as a public service, so you won't have to sit through this movie and wonder why I didn't warn you away from it. Consider yourself warned.]
Monday, November 26, 2007
Top Ten Films about Children
This post was inspired by a recent screening of an obscure (to me) Spanish film from 1973: Victor Erice's surreal debut, "The Spirit of the Beehive" -- an atmospheric post-Civil War period piece (think of it like "Pan's Labyrinth" without the scary monsters). The plot centers on two young sisters with active imaginations who, after watching a screening of "Frankenstein" at their local theater (a Spanish 'Cinema Paradiso'), create their own fantasy involving an abandoned farmhouse and its supposed inhabitant. Like all good movies from the 1970s, it is deliberate, obtuse, and challenging -- and very perceptive about the complexities of childhood: the innocence, the loss of it, the sibling manipulation and cruelty ... all that good stuff. Much like the following movies (all foreign films, interestingly -- because 'Stand By Me' never really did it for me, Rob Reiner and 'the fat kid'!)
10. The Spirit of the Beehive
9. The River (Jean Renoir)
8. tie: Wild Reeds & Au Revoir, Les Enfants (both about French adolescence)
7. Pather Panchali (India: 1955) -- I can't leave out Apu!
6. I'm Not Scared (one of many Italian films I could have included)
5. The Traveler (Iran: 1974) -- that is how Abbas Kiarostami's black and white masterpiece is listed in IMDB (but I swear I saw it at the National Gallery of Art under a different title). It is about a little boy's efforts to get to Tehran to see the national soccer team play. Brilliant.
4. Chocolat (France: 1988)
3. Ponette (France: 1996)
2. My Life as a Dog (Sweden: 1985)
... and the #1 movie about childhood --
1. To Be and to Have (France) -- nothing is more authentic than a documentary about real French kids!
I know I'm forgetting some, so submit your own nominees.
10. The Spirit of the Beehive
9. The River (Jean Renoir)
8. tie: Wild Reeds & Au Revoir, Les Enfants (both about French adolescence)
7. Pather Panchali (India: 1955) -- I can't leave out Apu!
6. I'm Not Scared (one of many Italian films I could have included)
5. The Traveler (Iran: 1974) -- that is how Abbas Kiarostami's black and white masterpiece is listed in IMDB (but I swear I saw it at the National Gallery of Art under a different title). It is about a little boy's efforts to get to Tehran to see the national soccer team play. Brilliant.
4. Chocolat (France: 1988)
3. Ponette (France: 1996)
2. My Life as a Dog (Sweden: 1985)
... and the #1 movie about childhood --
1. To Be and to Have (France) -- nothing is more authentic than a documentary about real French kids!
I know I'm forgetting some, so submit your own nominees.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
"ONCE" Set List
Dateline -- AUSTIN (November 15, 2007):
I am an admittedly biased reviewer, so I will only say that it was a magical night of music at the outdoor stage of Stubb's Barbecue last Thursday night. As anyone who has SEEN the movie knows (and only four people I know have, as far as I can tell), Glen Hansard is a dynamic performer, and he carried the show. Marketa Irglova was, by contrast, very much a supporting player, which also fits her personality (she is not a professional, and this is her first tour ever!)
Hansard came out solo (with that same old, beat-up guitar he used in the film--holes and all) and performed "Say it to Me Now." Next, he introduced Marketa and they did a duet of "All the Way Down." Then, he introduced the rest of The Frames, who came out for "Lies." At one point, she took his old guitar for a solo while he sat down on her piano bench.
The rest of the set (as best I can remember) went like this:
-- two new songs: one with a working title about 'Heartstrings;' the other was called 'Drown Out'
-- "When Your Mind's Made Up"
-- two more new songs: Edges of the Night (?) and "This Low"
--an impromptu audience request of 'Cry Me a River' (a Frames hit?)
-- Falling Slowly
-- Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy (another audience request)
-- Leave
-- ?? lay me down ??
-- a Pixies cover ('I want my life to make more sense'?)
ENCORE #1:
"Once"
"Star-Star ... " ??
"If You Want Me" -- finally, marketa!!
ENCORE #2:
"Fitzcarraldo" (a Frames song)
"Deviltown" (a Daniel Johnston song) -- where he lead the audience in a sing-along, asking the obliging crowd to snap their fingers, repeat the chorus, and file out quietly (which they started to do!). That lead him to shout "Austin, you Fuckin' Rule!!"
And the concert was over.
I am an admittedly biased reviewer, so I will only say that it was a magical night of music at the outdoor stage of Stubb's Barbecue last Thursday night. As anyone who has SEEN the movie knows (and only four people I know have, as far as I can tell), Glen Hansard is a dynamic performer, and he carried the show. Marketa Irglova was, by contrast, very much a supporting player, which also fits her personality (she is not a professional, and this is her first tour ever!)
Hansard came out solo (with that same old, beat-up guitar he used in the film--holes and all) and performed "Say it to Me Now." Next, he introduced Marketa and they did a duet of "All the Way Down." Then, he introduced the rest of The Frames, who came out for "Lies." At one point, she took his old guitar for a solo while he sat down on her piano bench.
The rest of the set (as best I can remember) went like this:
-- two new songs: one with a working title about 'Heartstrings;' the other was called 'Drown Out'
-- "When Your Mind's Made Up"
-- two more new songs: Edges of the Night (?) and "This Low"
--an impromptu audience request of 'Cry Me a River' (a Frames hit?)
-- Falling Slowly
-- Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy (another audience request)
-- Leave
-- ?? lay me down ??
-- a Pixies cover ('I want my life to make more sense'?)
ENCORE #1:
"Once"
"Star-Star ... " ??
"If You Want Me" -- finally, marketa!!
ENCORE #2:
"Fitzcarraldo" (a Frames song)
"Deviltown" (a Daniel Johnston song) -- where he lead the audience in a sing-along, asking the obliging crowd to snap their fingers, repeat the chorus, and file out quietly (which they started to do!). That lead him to shout "Austin, you Fuckin' Rule!!"
And the concert was over.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wes Anderson does it again
[A special 'travelling post' coming to you from the Halcyon coffee shop on 4th St. in lovely downtown Austin, Texas!! (Site of Wes Anderson/Owen Wilson's first collaboration, "Bottle Rocket"). I'm here to see the stars of "Once" -- in concert!]
"The Darjeeling Limited" -- I always enjoy a Wes Anderson movie, no matter what anyone else says: from "Rushmore" (filmed in Houston), to "The Royal Tenenbaums" to "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou." And this movie proudly joins that list. Stylistically inventive like his previous films, it is also engaging, funny, clever and cheeky. Shot in vivid colors, it is a sumptuous travelogue of India. It's the kind of film critics love to describe by trotting out useless descriptors like 'precious' and 'twee' -- both of those courtesy of the New York Times -- to denigrate Anderson's unique, quirky style. My retort: "It's his style -- get used to it!"
Also, I have a soft spot for any movie that takes place on a train. (Movie truism #1: train movies work; plane movies do not. Latest example: that Jodie Foster vehicle I refer to as "Panic Room on a Plane" because I can never remember the name of it. Another sexless starring role for Jodie Foster (in addition to the two previously mentioned, look at 'The Brave One' and 'Inside Man') which is a shame from such a fine actress. Why is she afraid to play a character with a sex life??? I do not care what sexual orientation she portrays (or lives) just show us something! Hell, she was asexual in "Anna and the King" and that was a romance!!) [How can you be sexless when you're playing opposite Chow Yun Fat, girlfriend!?!!]
I digress. The performances by the three leads are all on-pitch (Wilson, Schwartzman, and Adrien Brody; even though they share zero sibling resemblance). They are petty and selfish and needy ... just like real brothers! =) The movie does take a too-serious detour that is out-of-step with the mood of the piece (consequently, the emotions it evokes do not feel earned). But it does lead to a necessary flashback sequence that fleshes-out the characters of the three brothers.
I cannot imagine enjoying it as much if I hadn't seen the essential short film that now precedes the feature, "Hotel Chevalier," filmed in the chic Hotel Rafael in Paris. It sets the tone for the feature and informs the Jason Schwartzman character and two key scenes. I wonder why it was not included with the main film in the first place.
Look for great cameos by Anjelica Huston, Bill Murray (redeeming himself for appearing in the execrable "The Lost City" last year), and director Barbet Schroeder (redeeming himself after appearing in an execrable sequence in "Paris, Je t'aime" this year). I suppose I have a favorite adjective, too.
"The Darjeeling Limited" -- I always enjoy a Wes Anderson movie, no matter what anyone else says: from "Rushmore" (filmed in Houston), to "The Royal Tenenbaums" to "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou." And this movie proudly joins that list. Stylistically inventive like his previous films, it is also engaging, funny, clever and cheeky. Shot in vivid colors, it is a sumptuous travelogue of India. It's the kind of film critics love to describe by trotting out useless descriptors like 'precious' and 'twee' -- both of those courtesy of the New York Times -- to denigrate Anderson's unique, quirky style. My retort: "It's his style -- get used to it!"
Also, I have a soft spot for any movie that takes place on a train. (Movie truism #1: train movies work; plane movies do not. Latest example: that Jodie Foster vehicle I refer to as "Panic Room on a Plane" because I can never remember the name of it. Another sexless starring role for Jodie Foster (in addition to the two previously mentioned, look at 'The Brave One' and 'Inside Man') which is a shame from such a fine actress. Why is she afraid to play a character with a sex life??? I do not care what sexual orientation she portrays (or lives) just show us something! Hell, she was asexual in "Anna and the King" and that was a romance!!) [How can you be sexless when you're playing opposite Chow Yun Fat, girlfriend!?!!]
I digress. The performances by the three leads are all on-pitch (Wilson, Schwartzman, and Adrien Brody; even though they share zero sibling resemblance). They are petty and selfish and needy ... just like real brothers! =) The movie does take a too-serious detour that is out-of-step with the mood of the piece (consequently, the emotions it evokes do not feel earned). But it does lead to a necessary flashback sequence that fleshes-out the characters of the three brothers.
I cannot imagine enjoying it as much if I hadn't seen the essential short film that now precedes the feature, "Hotel Chevalier," filmed in the chic Hotel Rafael in Paris. It sets the tone for the feature and informs the Jason Schwartzman character and two key scenes. I wonder why it was not included with the main film in the first place.
Look for great cameos by Anjelica Huston, Bill Murray (redeeming himself for appearing in the execrable "The Lost City" last year), and director Barbet Schroeder (redeeming himself after appearing in an execrable sequence in "Paris, Je t'aime" this year). I suppose I have a favorite adjective, too.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Quick takes (part 2)
"Becoming Jane" -- Any movie with a fan blog as good as this one has to have something going for it: sure, Jane Austen brings her own fan club with her wherever she goes, but I think this movie's success is due more to the charming, assured performance by the Prada Princess herself, Anne Hathaway (if "Brokeback Mountain" had a 'P' in it, I would have referenced that, too). She silences all doubters that a lowly American can play a Brit convincingly (didn't Katy, Texas-native Renee Zellweger silence those haters once and for all?). The historical jumping-off point for the story is purely fictional, but I jumped anyway, and enjoyed the trip!
"The Jane Austen Book Club" -- Speaking of Jane Austen fan clubs, this movie is a tailor-made chick-flick: it's all about relationships, talking about relationships, book clubs, more talking ... and I loved every minute of it! Interesting characters, clever plotting, appealing performances (especially by Emily Blunt, and my fave, Maria Bello), all make you overlook the unconvincing, politically-correct lesbian subplot (all the lesbians are 'hot': how unbelievable is that!?) and the predictability of it all.
"Gone Baby Gone" -- major props to Ben Affleck in his directing debut. The guy was obviously paying attention on the set. He smartly stays in the milieu he is most comfortable: the mean streets of Dorchester, South Boston. And boy are they mean! He brings an obvious affection for the neighborhood and its denizens, while not shying away from the ugly side (and boy does it get ugly!). Amy Ryan is awesome in bringing both sides to life. An effective crime thriller that doesn't shy away from hard-to-answer questions (impressively, it tackles them head-on), this Dennis Lehane story is just a notch below the previous film adaptation of his work, "Mystic River." And a notch below Clint Eastwood is a good place to start.
"Lars & the Real Girl" -- this movie is the cream of the crop, even though it is getting panned as cloying and unbelievable. The guy falls in love with a blow-up doll: what part do you not believe? In a more convincing portrayal than his excellent performance in "Half Nelson", the great Ryan Gosling makes you believe! I bought in to the sadness behind this slapstick premise, precisely because of Gosling's totally committed performance. The supporting cast all bought into it, too, which makes it a more heart-wrenching than laugh-out-loud comedy.
--Hey, I liked all four movies: how unbelievable is that!?! -- ffg
"The Jane Austen Book Club" -- Speaking of Jane Austen fan clubs, this movie is a tailor-made chick-flick: it's all about relationships, talking about relationships, book clubs, more talking ... and I loved every minute of it! Interesting characters, clever plotting, appealing performances (especially by Emily Blunt, and my fave, Maria Bello), all make you overlook the unconvincing, politically-correct lesbian subplot (all the lesbians are 'hot': how unbelievable is that!?) and the predictability of it all.
"Gone Baby Gone" -- major props to Ben Affleck in his directing debut. The guy was obviously paying attention on the set. He smartly stays in the milieu he is most comfortable: the mean streets of Dorchester, South Boston. And boy are they mean! He brings an obvious affection for the neighborhood and its denizens, while not shying away from the ugly side (and boy does it get ugly!). Amy Ryan is awesome in bringing both sides to life. An effective crime thriller that doesn't shy away from hard-to-answer questions (impressively, it tackles them head-on), this Dennis Lehane story is just a notch below the previous film adaptation of his work, "Mystic River." And a notch below Clint Eastwood is a good place to start.
"Lars & the Real Girl" -- this movie is the cream of the crop, even though it is getting panned as cloying and unbelievable. The guy falls in love with a blow-up doll: what part do you not believe? In a more convincing portrayal than his excellent performance in "Half Nelson", the great Ryan Gosling makes you believe! I bought in to the sadness behind this slapstick premise, precisely because of Gosling's totally committed performance. The supporting cast all bought into it, too, which makes it a more heart-wrenching than laugh-out-loud comedy.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
"Across the Universe"
Julie Taymor is a gifted artist and director. Not just for "The Lion King" either: her feature film debut, an adaptation of Shakespeare's "Titus" starring Anthony Hopkins and Kate Beckinsale, was shocking and inspired. So imagine my disappointment after sitting through 140-minutes of "Across the Universe." I won't sugarcoat it: the movie is a complete and total misfire.
It is a great concept: fashioning a story out of the music of the Beatles, set during the time the songs were created, and interpreted by a cast who were not even born when the songs were hits. The cast of young, energetic, relative unknowns acquits itself well. (Except for one female cast member, who goes by the unfortunate name of 'T.V. Carpio' -- with a name like that, I hope she stays unknown!)
But this mess of a story with an oh-so multi-cultural cast often feels like a warmed-over "Rent" (with a better soundtrack). Before that, it comes across as a spin-off of NBC's short-lived "American Dreams." And worst of all, its depiction of the Sixties is so cliche-ridden it has all the complexity of "Forrest Gump" (again with a better soundtrack). [Note: I put that last movie in quotes, to point out that the politics in that overrated movie is even more simplistic than the intelligence of its title character!]
'ATU' never even attempts to create real characters or wring true emotions out of its protagonists. Think of it as the anti-'Once.' Without these elements, it amounts to nothing more than a collection of music videos--and not very cutting-edge videos at that. The dancing, the editing, the camera angles are all so 'been there, seen that on MTV when they used to show videos!' Only one set piece resonated with me: 'Strawberry Fields Forever,' an artistic expression of both the violence in Vietnam and the inability to stop it at home.
The rest of the interpretations are too damn literal! The beauty of a classic Lennon-McCartney song is that it defies literal interpretation. How can you make sense of a song like "I Am the Walrus" ... and why would you want to? In case you think I am exagerrating, note the ludricous heights (or depths) Taymor reaches when she acts out the lyrics "She's so heavy" (from 'I Want You') and "Mother Superior jumped the gun" (from 'Happiness is a Warm Gun'). Cringe-inducing.
Sure, the screenwriters make maximum use of Beatles lore with inside references and verbal and visual puns: the character names of Jude and Prudence lead to the inevitable (but well done) songs; the main character cuts a Granny Smith apple in half; and the movie's climax comes at an impromptu rooftop concert -- all are nice touches. Some of the best moments are provided by the cameos from real stars: Joe Cocker singing "Come Together"; Bono doing his best non-Irish accented acting before breaking into "I am the Walrus" in full U2 brogue. (This is the second movie in two years where Bono elevates an otherwise weak movie: remember last year's Leonard Cohen doc "I'm Your Man"?)
But this overlong film simply becomes a contest to see how many disparate Fab Four songs it can cram into one movie, without regard to coherence or flow. If Taymor had begun her movie with the end credits (a trippy "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" sung by the incomparable Bono--again!) it would have set the bar at a point where her creativity could have taken off. Instead, we get a brief appearance by her giant puppets (at a protest march, naturally) and not one, but five Salma Hayeks, dressed for Halloween as a 'naughty nurse.' Sometimes you gotta give the people what they want. What I wanted was something a little more daring from the creator of the Lion King and Titus.
It is a great concept: fashioning a story out of the music of the Beatles, set during the time the songs were created, and interpreted by a cast who were not even born when the songs were hits. The cast of young, energetic, relative unknowns acquits itself well. (Except for one female cast member, who goes by the unfortunate name of 'T.V. Carpio' -- with a name like that, I hope she stays unknown!)
But this mess of a story with an oh-so multi-cultural cast often feels like a warmed-over "Rent" (with a better soundtrack). Before that, it comes across as a spin-off of NBC's short-lived "American Dreams." And worst of all, its depiction of the Sixties is so cliche-ridden it has all the complexity of "Forrest Gump" (again with a better soundtrack). [Note: I put that last movie in quotes, to point out that the politics in that overrated movie is even more simplistic than the intelligence of its title character!]
'ATU' never even attempts to create real characters or wring true emotions out of its protagonists. Think of it as the anti-'Once.' Without these elements, it amounts to nothing more than a collection of music videos--and not very cutting-edge videos at that. The dancing, the editing, the camera angles are all so 'been there, seen that on MTV when they used to show videos!' Only one set piece resonated with me: 'Strawberry Fields Forever,' an artistic expression of both the violence in Vietnam and the inability to stop it at home.
The rest of the interpretations are too damn literal! The beauty of a classic Lennon-McCartney song is that it defies literal interpretation. How can you make sense of a song like "I Am the Walrus" ... and why would you want to? In case you think I am exagerrating, note the ludricous heights (or depths) Taymor reaches when she acts out the lyrics "She's so heavy" (from 'I Want You') and "Mother Superior jumped the gun" (from 'Happiness is a Warm Gun'). Cringe-inducing.
Sure, the screenwriters make maximum use of Beatles lore with inside references and verbal and visual puns: the character names of Jude and Prudence lead to the inevitable (but well done) songs; the main character cuts a Granny Smith apple in half; and the movie's climax comes at an impromptu rooftop concert -- all are nice touches. Some of the best moments are provided by the cameos from real stars: Joe Cocker singing "Come Together"; Bono doing his best non-Irish accented acting before breaking into "I am the Walrus" in full U2 brogue. (This is the second movie in two years where Bono elevates an otherwise weak movie: remember last year's Leonard Cohen doc "I'm Your Man"?)
But this overlong film simply becomes a contest to see how many disparate Fab Four songs it can cram into one movie, without regard to coherence or flow. If Taymor had begun her movie with the end credits (a trippy "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" sung by the incomparable Bono--again!) it would have set the bar at a point where her creativity could have taken off. Instead, we get a brief appearance by her giant puppets (at a protest march, naturally) and not one, but five Salma Hayeks, dressed for Halloween as a 'naughty nurse.' Sometimes you gotta give the people what they want. What I wanted was something a little more daring from the creator of the Lion King and Titus.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Quick takes (part one)
Brief reviews of current movies:
"The Hottest State" -- Ethan Hawke takes a turn behind the camera, and it's not even the best directing job by a star of "Before Sunrise" THIS YEAR (that honor belongs to Julie Delpy (see below). He's not bad, he just needs better source material. Did I mention he's directing his adaptation of his own novel?? The pace is brisk, the young actors engaging (to a point), but the whole thing is so much twentysomething navel-gazing. Sheesh!
"2 Days in Paris" -- now THIS is a self-assured directing debut! Julie Delpy wrote the script and stars, too (Richard Linklater should be proud of his proteges). She owes a great debt to Woody Allen, but she brings her own irreverent, opinionated, and sexually frank perspective to relationships and modern life. And she's not afraid to take on the French people's own prejudices and hang-ups, which strikes me as courageous. Oh, and it is very, very funny!
"The Kingdom" -- I was uncomfortable throughout this movie, and for a self-proclaimed piece of action-entertainment, that is not a good thing. It may be a question of timing, but I hope I can say it will never be appropriate to take such brutal incidents as suicide bombings and videotaped beheadings, and use them for nail-biting action sequences in big-budget Hollywood movies. I continue to have a great deal of respect for director Peter Berg (who created the marvelous "Friday Night Lights") but his skills should be put to better use than in this bit of terrorist revenge fantasy.
SPOILER ALERT: The ultimate insult, however, comes when after all this feel-good, blow away the bad guys, he tries to make a 'statement' about how all this tit-for-tat violence just leads to another generation of hatred and death.
GIVE ME A BREAK! You have no right to lecture us about that, after using that same violence as a back-drop to your movie, Mr. Berg!
COMING ATTRACTIONS:
"Becoming Jane"
"The Jane Austen Book Club"
"Gone Baby Gone"
"Lars & the Real Girl"
"The Hottest State" -- Ethan Hawke takes a turn behind the camera, and it's not even the best directing job by a star of "Before Sunrise" THIS YEAR (that honor belongs to Julie Delpy (see below). He's not bad, he just needs better source material. Did I mention he's directing his adaptation of his own novel?? The pace is brisk, the young actors engaging (to a point), but the whole thing is so much twentysomething navel-gazing. Sheesh!
"2 Days in Paris" -- now THIS is a self-assured directing debut! Julie Delpy wrote the script and stars, too (Richard Linklater should be proud of his proteges). She owes a great debt to Woody Allen, but she brings her own irreverent, opinionated, and sexually frank perspective to relationships and modern life. And she's not afraid to take on the French people's own prejudices and hang-ups, which strikes me as courageous. Oh, and it is very, very funny!
"The Kingdom" -- I was uncomfortable throughout this movie, and for a self-proclaimed piece of action-entertainment, that is not a good thing. It may be a question of timing, but I hope I can say it will never be appropriate to take such brutal incidents as suicide bombings and videotaped beheadings, and use them for nail-biting action sequences in big-budget Hollywood movies. I continue to have a great deal of respect for director Peter Berg (who created the marvelous "Friday Night Lights") but his skills should be put to better use than in this bit of terrorist revenge fantasy.
SPOILER ALERT: The ultimate insult, however, comes when after all this feel-good, blow away the bad guys, he tries to make a 'statement' about how all this tit-for-tat violence just leads to another generation of hatred and death.
GIVE ME A BREAK! You have no right to lecture us about that, after using that same violence as a back-drop to your movie, Mr. Berg!
COMING ATTRACTIONS:
"Becoming Jane"
"The Jane Austen Book Club"
"Gone Baby Gone"
"Lars & the Real Girl"
Monday, October 15, 2007
The Moon rocks! ("The Moon"? ... not so much)
I normally do not take requests on this blog, but I submit this review at the behest of the number one Space Program fan (and defender) that I know--George Bradford-- who claims the documentary "In the Shadow of the Moon" to be "the ultimate foreign film, because it was filmed on the moon!" I even had the pleasure of walking through downtown Houston's own Tranquility Park on my way to the theater -- a fitting tribute to the 1969 event.
Well, the subject matter may be foreign to us Earthlings, but the movie's downfall is that it spends too much time with its feet firmly planted on terra firma. For much of the first hour, the movie remains tediously Earth-bound: both in subject matter and in its too-traditional execution, not helped by a truly lame soundtrack (a stupid Byrds song was the best they could come up with??). I'm not saying every documentary has to follow the Ken Burns template, but a little originality in presentation is de rigueur in this post-Michael Moore era, or I might as well stay home and watch the Discovery Channel (or Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet <<"My favorite animal's the meerkat." -- from what movie??>>).
Compare this with another recent release, Peter Berg's uncomfortable bit of post-9/11 escapism, "The Kingdom," where the opening credit sequence depicts the entire history of the kingdom of Saudi Arabia -- from 1933 to 9/11 -- in a two-minute animation! Incredible (and the best thing in the movie).
True, the movie is educational and informative about a watershed moment in human history (even for us old-timers ... who remember "The Right Stuff"-- I kid, I remember back in 1969), but the narrative and interviews just never reach the heights this monumental achievement deserves. By the time the first astronauts land on the moon, you are hoping for more insight than learning which astronaut was the first to take a whiz on the lunar landscape.
-- SPOILER ALERT!! --
- It was Buzz Aldrin!!
I cannot blame the interview subjects for the less than inspiring narration; in fact, some are able to break-through the unimaginative, studio-bound interviews to reveal glimpses of their personality, which only makes you wish for a looser format (and better interviewer) to free them from the talking-head treatment they all received in equal measure. I have no complaints about spending an hour and a half listening to anecdotes from this league of extraordinary gentlemen, illustrated by NASA's own film of the missions; I simply wish this documentary did a better job capturing the mystery and awesomeness of space travel -- like a Ron Howard movie, for example (he had a hand in producing, alas not directing, this film).
Well, the subject matter may be foreign to us Earthlings, but the movie's downfall is that it spends too much time with its feet firmly planted on terra firma. For much of the first hour, the movie remains tediously Earth-bound: both in subject matter and in its too-traditional execution, not helped by a truly lame soundtrack (a stupid Byrds song was the best they could come up with??). I'm not saying every documentary has to follow the Ken Burns template, but a little originality in presentation is de rigueur in this post-Michael Moore era, or I might as well stay home and watch the Discovery Channel (or Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet <<"My favorite animal's the meerkat." -- from what movie??>>).
Compare this with another recent release, Peter Berg's uncomfortable bit of post-9/11 escapism, "The Kingdom," where the opening credit sequence depicts the entire history of the kingdom of Saudi Arabia -- from 1933 to 9/11 -- in a two-minute animation! Incredible (and the best thing in the movie).
True, the movie is educational and informative about a watershed moment in human history (even for us old-timers ... who remember "The Right Stuff"-- I kid, I remember back in 1969), but the narrative and interviews just never reach the heights this monumental achievement deserves. By the time the first astronauts land on the moon, you are hoping for more insight than learning which astronaut was the first to take a whiz on the lunar landscape.
-- SPOILER ALERT!! --
- It was Buzz Aldrin!!
I cannot blame the interview subjects for the less than inspiring narration; in fact, some are able to break-through the unimaginative, studio-bound interviews to reveal glimpses of their personality, which only makes you wish for a looser format (and better interviewer) to free them from the talking-head treatment they all received in equal measure. I have no complaints about spending an hour and a half listening to anecdotes from this league of extraordinary gentlemen, illustrated by NASA's own film of the missions; I simply wish this documentary did a better job capturing the mystery and awesomeness of space travel -- like a Ron Howard movie, for example (he had a hand in producing, alas not directing, this film).
Friday, September 28, 2007
EASTERN PROMISES
I was lucky enough to be in one of those 'select theaters' recently to see the Toronto Film Festival award-winning feature by David Cronenberg, "Eastern Promises." This movie has it all: blood, death, dismemberment ... and Naomi Watts!
Now, you are able to experience it for yourself at theaters nationwide. Imagine a movie combining the unease and foreboding of A History of Violence with the dark societal underbelly of Dirty, Pretty Things -- the director and screenwriter, respectively, of two of my favorite recent movies have teamed up for this one -- and you have a sense of what awaits you: another great time at the movies!
The revelation in this movie is the lead perfomance by Viggo Mortensen: the dude can act! He plays a sympathetic Russian underworld underling, to Naomi Watts' sympathetic British nurse (reviews insist on calling her a 'midwife', which I don't understand at all). This will be my last mention of Ms. Watts, not because she isn't her usual captivating self, but her part doesn't utilize the full range of her immense talent (compared to her lead role in last year's shamefully overlooked The Painted Veil). She does get to ride around London on a cool motorcycle, though, wearing an even cooler designer black leather motorcycle jacket (the name -- Belstaff -- went straight from the closing credits to my Christmas list: another reason to stay and watch the end credits!).
The story might seem familiar: a Russian version of Goodfellas, if you will. But because the milieu is different, and the directing so assured, you don't mind spending another two hours of your life with mobsters. The piece-de-resistance of the movie is a four-minute fight scene in a public steam room. The bathhouse fight is already being hailed as a classic, and rightly so. It will take your breath away, not least because it involves two fully-clothed Chechen assassins with ornate, long knives attempting to kill a completely nude Viggo Mortensen. Completely!
While critics have equated the sequence to the car chase in French Connection (1971), a more apt comparison is the homoerotic nude wrestling match between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed in Ken Russell's Women in Love (1970). Let's face it: full frontal male nudity still has the power to shock a mainstream audience, even those with HBO subscriptions. Regardless of sexual orientation, a viewer's mind is in a whirl: you cannot believe the audacity of the filmmaking while you wonder: "What should I be looking at?" and "How long is the director going to put his actors (and us) through this?" It leaves you unsettled, off-balance, and exhausted in a way that makes all other choreographed fights in action movies, no matter how well-done, look and feel 'staged.' Of course they are staged -- It's a movie, after all -- but the director's goal is to make a viewer forget that, to take him out of his reality and into the film's reality. Proof enough of Cronenberg's success in bringing that reality to his audience are the critic's giddy comparisons to classics from the Seventies.
No one who is serious about making an annual Top Ten Movie list should miss "Eastern Promises."
Now, you are able to experience it for yourself at theaters nationwide. Imagine a movie combining the unease and foreboding of A History of Violence with the dark societal underbelly of Dirty, Pretty Things -- the director and screenwriter, respectively, of two of my favorite recent movies have teamed up for this one -- and you have a sense of what awaits you: another great time at the movies!
The revelation in this movie is the lead perfomance by Viggo Mortensen: the dude can act! He plays a sympathetic Russian underworld underling, to Naomi Watts' sympathetic British nurse (reviews insist on calling her a 'midwife', which I don't understand at all). This will be my last mention of Ms. Watts, not because she isn't her usual captivating self, but her part doesn't utilize the full range of her immense talent (compared to her lead role in last year's shamefully overlooked The Painted Veil). She does get to ride around London on a cool motorcycle, though, wearing an even cooler designer black leather motorcycle jacket (the name -- Belstaff -- went straight from the closing credits to my Christmas list: another reason to stay and watch the end credits!).
The story might seem familiar: a Russian version of Goodfellas, if you will. But because the milieu is different, and the directing so assured, you don't mind spending another two hours of your life with mobsters. The piece-de-resistance of the movie is a four-minute fight scene in a public steam room. The bathhouse fight is already being hailed as a classic, and rightly so. It will take your breath away, not least because it involves two fully-clothed Chechen assassins with ornate, long knives attempting to kill a completely nude Viggo Mortensen. Completely!
While critics have equated the sequence to the car chase in French Connection (1971), a more apt comparison is the homoerotic nude wrestling match between Alan Bates and Oliver Reed in Ken Russell's Women in Love (1970). Let's face it: full frontal male nudity still has the power to shock a mainstream audience, even those with HBO subscriptions. Regardless of sexual orientation, a viewer's mind is in a whirl: you cannot believe the audacity of the filmmaking while you wonder: "What should I be looking at?" and "How long is the director going to put his actors (and us) through this?" It leaves you unsettled, off-balance, and exhausted in a way that makes all other choreographed fights in action movies, no matter how well-done, look and feel 'staged.' Of course they are staged -- It's a movie, after all -- but the director's goal is to make a viewer forget that, to take him out of his reality and into the film's reality. Proof enough of Cronenberg's success in bringing that reality to his audience are the critic's giddy comparisons to classics from the Seventies.
No one who is serious about making an annual Top Ten Movie list should miss "Eastern Promises."
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
R.I.P. x 3
Two great directors of world cinema died on the same day last month: Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman. Bergman, without question, leaves behind the richer legacy: witness the many lists of 'must see' Bergman films published after his death (like this one). My only contribution to that dialogue is this: any critic who doesn't include Bergman's 1960 black-and-white masterpiece "The Virgin Spring" -- IS A HACK!
Of course, Bergman had his famous "The Silence of God trilogy" (and I've seen them all: Through a Glass Darkly, The Silence, and my favorite of the three, the bleak Winter Light, with Bergman stalwarts Ingrid Thulin and Max von Sydow). But Antonioni's strict, unwavering formalism in his equally-famous "Alienation trilogy"carries a unique fascination for all you hardcore foreignfilmguy(s) out there. (I know you're out there!)
I recently had the pleasure of seeing the last of the trilogy ("L'Eclisse," following the more famous "L'avventura" and "La Notte" -- all starring the lovely Monica Vitti), and I had a revelation: Monica Vitti is the original 'RPT' (that stands for 'Ron Palmer type' for those who don't know me and my weaknesses, and it is shorthand for what I humbly consider to be the ideal woman).
Why Monica Vitti, and not, say, Greta Garbo, Louise Brooks, Anna Karina, or Hedy Lamarr? All are mysterious, exotic, desirable, pale-skinned brunettes. But Monica had something extra: she was totally out-of-reach, not only for this kid from Pampa, Texas, but for every man who entered her orbit. She personified the untouchable female: her existential angst and ennui formed an impenetrable barrier to any human connection that came to dominate the relationships throughout European cinema in the great decade of the Sixties. She was not only beautiful and bored, she was completely and totally unknowable. She couldn't (or wouldn't?) let anyone in. Watch four of the five films she made with Antonioni, and ask yourself after each one: "What was her f**ing problem, anyway?" She remains, like the films she stars in, an inscrutable puzzle, and THAT is what makes her the quintessential RPT.
The third passing I mourn is that of the German actor Ulrich Muhe, star of the 2006 Oscar-winning "The Lives of Others." Like Italian comic actor Massimo Troisi in "Il Postino," this brave and accomplished actor completed the role of a lifetime while facing a life-threatening illness. Godspeed, Mr. Muhe!
Of course, Bergman had his famous "The Silence of God trilogy" (and I've seen them all: Through a Glass Darkly, The Silence, and my favorite of the three, the bleak Winter Light, with Bergman stalwarts Ingrid Thulin and Max von Sydow). But Antonioni's strict, unwavering formalism in his equally-famous "Alienation trilogy"carries a unique fascination for all you hardcore foreignfilmguy(s) out there. (I know you're out there!)
I recently had the pleasure of seeing the last of the trilogy ("L'Eclisse," following the more famous "L'avventura" and "La Notte" -- all starring the lovely Monica Vitti), and I had a revelation: Monica Vitti is the original 'RPT' (that stands for 'Ron Palmer type' for those who don't know me and my weaknesses, and it is shorthand for what I humbly consider to be the ideal woman).
Why Monica Vitti, and not, say, Greta Garbo, Louise Brooks, Anna Karina, or Hedy Lamarr? All are mysterious, exotic, desirable, pale-skinned brunettes. But Monica had something extra: she was totally out-of-reach, not only for this kid from Pampa, Texas, but for every man who entered her orbit. She personified the untouchable female: her existential angst and ennui formed an impenetrable barrier to any human connection that came to dominate the relationships throughout European cinema in the great decade of the Sixties. She was not only beautiful and bored, she was completely and totally unknowable. She couldn't (or wouldn't?) let anyone in. Watch four of the five films she made with Antonioni, and ask yourself after each one: "What was her f**ing problem, anyway?" She remains, like the films she stars in, an inscrutable puzzle, and THAT is what makes her the quintessential RPT.
The third passing I mourn is that of the German actor Ulrich Muhe, star of the 2006 Oscar-winning "The Lives of Others." Like Italian comic actor Massimo Troisi in "Il Postino," this brave and accomplished actor completed the role of a lifetime while facing a life-threatening illness. Godspeed, Mr. Muhe!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
4 overlooked movies you can still catch on pay cable
These movies keep popping up on my gazillion free movie channels (gotta love the Dish!), and I am always sucked into watching them again:
1. V for Vendetta (2006) - this really should have made my TOP TEN list (not as a measly 'honorable mention.') Sure, it has two strikes against it:
1) it's based on a comic book -- excuse me, "graphic novel"!!; and 2) it hides its political message in a loud, action-packed, mass-market entertainment vehicle.
But a message it does have: and like a 'serious' movie that came out during award season and garnered much more praise ("Children of Men"), it is a strong indictment of Post-9/11 governments running amok over civil liberties and the Constitution. Great cast, too.
2. "The Weather Man" (2005) - Nicolas Cage seemingly makes five movies per year, and four of them are pure crap ("Gone in 60 Seconds" and "Ghost Rider" come to mind), but The Weather Man was the 1 good one! At first glance, he's playing another hapless, sad-sack character that he should have patented by now. But instead of covering that familiar ground, the movie is a perceptive character study, with a well-written voice-over narration, and a clever soundtrack. What's surprising is the creative team behind it all: director Gore Verbinski (the 'Pirates' dude!) and composer Hans Zimmer (the old boy has some originality in him still!).
3. Stay (2005) - I'm going to beat this particular drum until someone tells me they have actually seen it! It lasted a nanosecond in theaters (poor marketing: the ads make it out to be a horror movie), despite its pedigree: directed by Marc Forster, fresh off "Finding Neverland;" starring Ewan Magregor and the lovely Naomi Watts (and the lovely Bob Hoskins, for that matter!). And in a break-out performance, Mr. 'Half Nelson' himself . . . RYAN GOSLING!
Sure, it is experimental: scene do not cut so much as they morph into different ones; backgrounds change at will; and the flashbacks and flash forwards are dizzying. But the disorienting effect is intentional, and masterful. And the music and end-credits are hypnotic. Worth a rental and repeat viewings (but PAY ATTENTION, people: don't 'Netflix it' while you fold the clothes!!) (you know who you are).
4. "Kingdom of Heaven" (2005) - not one of Ridley Scott's best efforts (but nowhere near his worst!) this historical epic is more historically suspect than "Becoming Jane" (the screenwriters may have made-up her romance out of whole cloth, but at least they didn't turn Jane Austen into a blood-thirsty murderer of non-Christian civilians, as Kingdom did to real-life figures Guy de Lusignan and Raynald of Chatillon... thank you, wikipedia, for the history lesson). [I hope I haven't provided some Hollywood hack the idea for his next 'pitch': "Kingdom of Jane".]
But the movie is beautiful to watch. I didn't like Edward Norton's portrayal of the leprous king of Jerusalem on first viewing, but it grows on me every time I see it; and Liam Neeson and Jeremy Irons should be cast in every historical epic for as long as they continue to work. Along with the French-lovely Eva Green ("Casino Royale"), for that matter! I'm looking forward to seeing it one more time, because I just learned that "Rome" star Kevin McKidd (Lucius Voernus, for you fans) is also in the cast. Gotta love the Dish!
1. V for Vendetta (2006) - this really should have made my TOP TEN list (not as a measly 'honorable mention.') Sure, it has two strikes against it:
1) it's based on a comic book -- excuse me, "graphic novel"!!; and 2) it hides its political message in a loud, action-packed, mass-market entertainment vehicle.
But a message it does have: and like a 'serious' movie that came out during award season and garnered much more praise ("Children of Men"), it is a strong indictment of Post-9/11 governments running amok over civil liberties and the Constitution. Great cast, too.
2. "The Weather Man" (2005) - Nicolas Cage seemingly makes five movies per year, and four of them are pure crap ("Gone in 60 Seconds" and "Ghost Rider" come to mind), but The Weather Man was the 1 good one! At first glance, he's playing another hapless, sad-sack character that he should have patented by now. But instead of covering that familiar ground, the movie is a perceptive character study, with a well-written voice-over narration, and a clever soundtrack. What's surprising is the creative team behind it all: director Gore Verbinski (the 'Pirates' dude!) and composer Hans Zimmer (the old boy has some originality in him still!).
3. Stay (2005) - I'm going to beat this particular drum until someone tells me they have actually seen it! It lasted a nanosecond in theaters (poor marketing: the ads make it out to be a horror movie), despite its pedigree: directed by Marc Forster, fresh off "Finding Neverland;" starring Ewan Magregor and the lovely Naomi Watts (and the lovely Bob Hoskins, for that matter!). And in a break-out performance, Mr. 'Half Nelson' himself . . . RYAN GOSLING!
Sure, it is experimental: scene do not cut so much as they morph into different ones; backgrounds change at will; and the flashbacks and flash forwards are dizzying. But the disorienting effect is intentional, and masterful. And the music and end-credits are hypnotic. Worth a rental and repeat viewings (but PAY ATTENTION, people: don't 'Netflix it' while you fold the clothes!!) (you know who you are).
4. "Kingdom of Heaven" (2005) - not one of Ridley Scott's best efforts (but nowhere near his worst!) this historical epic is more historically suspect than "Becoming Jane" (the screenwriters may have made-up her romance out of whole cloth, but at least they didn't turn Jane Austen into a blood-thirsty murderer of non-Christian civilians, as Kingdom did to real-life figures Guy de Lusignan and Raynald of Chatillon... thank you, wikipedia, for the history lesson). [I hope I haven't provided some Hollywood hack the idea for his next 'pitch': "Kingdom of Jane".]
But the movie is beautiful to watch. I didn't like Edward Norton's portrayal of the leprous king of Jerusalem on first viewing, but it grows on me every time I see it; and Liam Neeson and Jeremy Irons should be cast in every historical epic for as long as they continue to work. Along with the French-lovely Eva Green ("Casino Royale"), for that matter! I'm looking forward to seeing it one more time, because I just learned that "Rome" star Kevin McKidd (Lucius Voernus, for you fans) is also in the cast. Gotta love the Dish!
Additions to my CLASSICAL MUSIC faves list
(I can't believe I left them off in the first place!)
She's DUTCH!
Look at her cradling her violin!
Here she is lounging (after a concert, no doubt).
Anna Netrebko
The red-hot Russian Soprano!
[Appearing December 15th, 2007 as Juliette at the MET!]
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
"Black Book": or, the vulgarity of a Paul Verhoeven film
This is not the vulgar part (in fact, it's my favorite scene in the movie!)I'll never forget Roger Ebert's reaction to David Lynch's "Blue Velvet": He was critical of the director for leaving his actress (the fearless Isabella Rossellini) so exposed and vulnerable (as if he owes a duty to his actors to honor the trust they have placed in him). She was definitely exposed, if you remember: but at the time I thought Ebert overreacted, and I still do: Rossellini's faith was rewarded in a shocking, memorable performance. (Much like Laura Dern in "Inland Empire" -- she put it all on the line for that movie. Would any actress do that for, say, Michael Bay (to cite the most obvious Hollywood hack)?
Lynch can get away with such things because he is an artist. Paul Verhoeven, on the other hand, is a crass, mass-market entertainer: and Elizabeth Berkley is still trying to overcome "Showgirls" as a result. So the lovely Dutch actress Carice van Houten had little chance to emerge from "Black Book" unscathed.
The things this cinematic sadist Verhoeven puts this poor beauty through is unforgiveable.
Let's get one thing straight: I've got no problem seeing the supple Ms. van Houten slip out of her clothes at the slightest provocation. But the escalating degradation she is forced to endure throughout this movie is prurient and unseemly, especially since the movie strives for nothing more than popular entertainment!
The apotheosis of this degradation is blatantly telegraphed: why else would a scene begin with a close-up of a communal bucket of shit? ("Oh, I wonder if that will play a part in the upcoming scene?") True to form, Verhoeven first strips and taunts the main character, Rachel Stein, before, oh so predictably, dumping the entire bucket of shit on top of her. Subtle, Paul .... ohsofuckingsubtle!
I won't dwell on the endless improbabilities and false endings that make this movie such a chore to sit through: at that point, I didn't care how it ended, I was just praying it would end--both for my sake and Ms. van Houten's.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
"Once"
I have just seen (for the second time) the most-perfect movie with music ... I cannot call it a "musical" because it is light years away from "Hairspray" or "Dreamgirls." "Once" is the latest Sundance darling that (for once) lives up to the hype that annual designation brings --oftentimes regardless of quality. This indie Irish gem of a movie stars two talented singer-songwriters that I had never heard of: Glen Hansard (of the Irish group "The Frames") and his newest collaborator, Czech sensation Marketa Irglova. For non-actors (as most of the cast apparently are), they are naturals in front of a camera.
The story of their friendship -- an always awkward journey of getting to know someone of the opposite sex, stepping through that sexual minefield along the way -- is refreshingly real (they don't even 'meet cute.') This is due in large part to Ms. Irglova's directness: like a true foreigner (in my experience), she immediatley asks the most personal questions to a street singer who, admittedly, was baring his soul in his songs.
The camerawork and street scenes of working-class Dublin add to the movie's verisimilitude (a Spelling Bee word I've always wanted to use). But the movie stands or falls on the music itself -- and fans of the music will not be short-changed. [Count me in that camp: I cannot predict what non-fans will think of the movie overall -- the two are inextricably linked.]
For critics who charge that there is too much music, not enough story or dialogue, I say: The music IS the dialogue! Character is revealed through music in a way that a conventional musical only scratches the surface (of). [As I wrote that, I thought of a number of classic Broadway exceptions to that statement, most involving Stehpen Sondheim, but who would accuse him of being 'conventional'?]
I do appreciate the traditional movie musical ("Chicago" and "Moulin Rouge" being recent notable achievements in the genre). But "Once" is a different animal entirely: not a movie with music as an over-produced diversion but a movie with music as integral as any language.
The story of their friendship -- an always awkward journey of getting to know someone of the opposite sex, stepping through that sexual minefield along the way -- is refreshingly real (they don't even 'meet cute.') This is due in large part to Ms. Irglova's directness: like a true foreigner (in my experience), she immediatley asks the most personal questions to a street singer who, admittedly, was baring his soul in his songs.
The camerawork and street scenes of working-class Dublin add to the movie's verisimilitude (a Spelling Bee word I've always wanted to use). But the movie stands or falls on the music itself -- and fans of the music will not be short-changed. [Count me in that camp: I cannot predict what non-fans will think of the movie overall -- the two are inextricably linked.]
For critics who charge that there is too much music, not enough story or dialogue, I say: The music IS the dialogue! Character is revealed through music in a way that a conventional musical only scratches the surface (of). [As I wrote that, I thought of a number of classic Broadway exceptions to that statement, most involving Stehpen Sondheim, but who would accuse him of being 'conventional'?]
I do appreciate the traditional movie musical ("Chicago" and "Moulin Rouge" being recent notable achievements in the genre). But "Once" is a different animal entirely: not a movie with music as an over-produced diversion but a movie with music as integral as any language.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Halfway to my TOP TEN List
I know we are more than halfway through the year on the calendar, but in Hollywood terms, we have barely reached the halfway point in the 2007 movie calendar (the Fall is the 'serious film season' after all!)
So here's a look at the highlights and lowlights of my movie year (post-Oscars).
First the bad news:
'300' == what a puerile, juvenile, and completely offensive treatment of history! I don't know what to be more offended by: the disrespect for historical figures (here the enemy is not just demonized--they are literally turned into monsters (if I were Persian, I'd be really pissed!)/ Or the adolescent sensibility towards sex and marriage: sex in the depiction of the Greek oracles as naked, nubile, drug-addled babes -- who are being groped, even licked, by pustule-covered, leprous old priests (sublety is definitely NOT in the vocabulary of Frank Miller); marriage in the relationship between the main character and his wife: "Have your way with me, Spartan! -- not like those boy-loving Athenians!!")
But even more offensive is the movie's glorification of war and battle: totally out of touch with this country's mindset, three-plus years into this Iraq fiasco. Get a clue, you clueless punk director! (Zach somebody)...
Now for the good news, my provisional TOP TEN:
Foreign films:
Indigenes (France/Algeria) -- a compelling WWII film in a season of many.
The Lives of Others (Germany) -- a worthy Oscar winner.
Once (Ireland) -- now THIS is the summer movie to fall in love with! So much more genuine than last summer's indie darling: Little Miss Crap-shine.
The Wind That Shakes the Barley (UK) -- this movie makes all the same parallels to our 'war on terror' , and makes them more effectively, than the obvious and simplistic "Goya's Ghosts."
U.S.:
Breach and Zodiac -- see previous post.
Sicko -- Michael Moore does it again! (and I never thought much about health care before. Now I am prepared to say "The French do it better!").
... and the BEST MOVIE I've seen so far this year ???????
LA VIE EN ROSE (France)
Anyone who doesn't know the story of France's favorite singer might not believe everything that happens in this movie, but it's all true! It makes "Ray" and Johnny Cash's life look like a cakewalk! And anyone who compare this movie with those two is quite simply an idiot (I'm talkin' to YOU, A.O. Scott!)
The haters out there might say this movie is as much a mess as Piaf's life--but it's chaotic for a reason: and it works! The sequence where she learns of a lover's death is priceless. And you learn more about Paris from this movie than in all the other disappointing, so-called love letters to that city that have reached our shores this year ("Avenue Montaigne"; "Paris, Je t'aime"; "The Valet"--I've seen them all).
Marian Cotillard Rules!
So here's a look at the highlights and lowlights of my movie year (post-Oscars).
First the bad news:
'300' == what a puerile, juvenile, and completely offensive treatment of history! I don't know what to be more offended by: the disrespect for historical figures (here the enemy is not just demonized--they are literally turned into monsters (if I were Persian, I'd be really pissed!)/ Or the adolescent sensibility towards sex and marriage: sex in the depiction of the Greek oracles as naked, nubile, drug-addled babes -- who are being groped, even licked, by pustule-covered, leprous old priests (sublety is definitely NOT in the vocabulary of Frank Miller); marriage in the relationship between the main character and his wife: "Have your way with me, Spartan! -- not like those boy-loving Athenians!!")
But even more offensive is the movie's glorification of war and battle: totally out of touch with this country's mindset, three-plus years into this Iraq fiasco. Get a clue, you clueless punk director! (Zach somebody)...
Now for the good news, my provisional TOP TEN:
Foreign films:
Indigenes (France/Algeria) -- a compelling WWII film in a season of many.
The Lives of Others (Germany) -- a worthy Oscar winner.
Once (Ireland) -- now THIS is the summer movie to fall in love with! So much more genuine than last summer's indie darling: Little Miss Crap-shine.
The Wind That Shakes the Barley (UK) -- this movie makes all the same parallels to our 'war on terror' , and makes them more effectively, than the obvious and simplistic "Goya's Ghosts."
U.S.:
Breach and Zodiac -- see previous post.
Sicko -- Michael Moore does it again! (and I never thought much about health care before. Now I am prepared to say "The French do it better!").
... and the BEST MOVIE I've seen so far this year ???????
LA VIE EN ROSE (France)
Anyone who doesn't know the story of France's favorite singer might not believe everything that happens in this movie, but it's all true! It makes "Ray" and Johnny Cash's life look like a cakewalk! And anyone who compare this movie with those two is quite simply an idiot (I'm talkin' to YOU, A.O. Scott!)
The haters out there might say this movie is as much a mess as Piaf's life--but it's chaotic for a reason: and it works! The sequence where she learns of a lover's death is priceless. And you learn more about Paris from this movie than in all the other disappointing, so-called love letters to that city that have reached our shores this year ("Avenue Montaigne"; "Paris, Je t'aime"; "The Valet"--I've seen them all).
Marian Cotillard Rules!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
STOP the Presses -- again!
Actress Naomi Watts has given birth to her first child, a boy named Alexander Pete Schreiber. Alexander was born on Wednesday in Los Angeles and weighed 8lb and 4oz. Watts was born in Kent but moved to Australia with her family at the age of 14, where she first met close friend Nicole Kidman at a casting call. CONGRATS TO THE NEW MOM !
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Goya's Ghosts
BEWARE THE EUROPEAN CO-PRODUCTION!
This isn't the first time financiers from several EU countries got together an international cast and an A-list director to film a historical epic -- in English, of course (ever mindful of the international box office)-- in order to make a fast Euro. The fact that the end product is an embarrassing, unhistorical mess, wildly uneven in tone and execution, is irrelevant.
Irrelevant to all but us poor souls who expected some art or insight from the great director Milos Forman's take on the complex, larger-than-life Spanish painter Francisco Goya. Sadly, Forman is there solely to pick up a paycheck, casting his actors adrift in an unsubtle morass of a screenplay that swings from comedy to drama so many times they should hand-out Dramamine at the door. At its BEST, the movie's historical re-creations look no more authentic than a History Channel documentary (without the Di-Tech commericals). I cannot conceive of damning it with any fainter praise than that.
Forman tries to draw paralells between the torture policies of the Spanish Inquisition and France's precipitous invasion of Spain with the Bush administration's torture policies and Iraq fiasco, but his digs are obvious and lame (and soon passed over). Because the ridiculous plot does moves at a fast clip: fifteen years pass before the make-up artist can finish Natalie Portman's ageing make-up (it looks like it was smeared-on with a putty knife).
Poor Natalie Portman suffers the most by this general incompetence of this production (both in the story and in her performance): seeing her being stripped and tortured by the Spanish Inquisition, after her ordeal in "V for Vendetta," and I can only hope she is interviewing new agents. Stellan Skaarsgaard is a cipher as Goya -- but the weak-willed title character is merely a spectator in his own film. If you want an artistic treatment of Goya's life and art, rent Carlos Saura's moody and surreal "Goya in Bordeaux" (2000). And Randy Quaid as the King of Spain? Randy Quaid??
I make a distinction for the professional actors because apparently the movie is stuffed with cameos by European aristocrats (to please those demanding investors, no doubt). That explains the several unnecessary close-ups of non-speaking characters, serving only to lengthen an already interminable film. Not that this unsophisticated eye would recognize any of them, but it does give this ill-conceived production one notable, if dubious, distinction: it has to be the first 'Euro-Trash Vanity Pic'!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Stop the Presses!!
Watts Gains "International" Passport
Reuters/Hollywood Reporter
By Borys KitFri Jul 13, 2:52 AM ET
Naomi Watts has signed on to star opposite Clive Owen in "The International," an action thriller that Tom Tykwer is directing for Columbia Pictures.
The plot centers on an obsessive Interpol agent (Owen) who spearheads an investigation into one of the world's most high-profile and powerful banking institutions in an attempt to expose them for worldwide arms brokering, corruption and murder. Watts will play a Manhattan assistant district attorney who partners with the agent to take down the bank. Eric Singer wrote the screenplay.
Watts, who most recently starred in "The Painted Veil," next stars opposite Viggo Mortensen in David Cronenberg's "Eastern Promises."
>>She will re-define how to portray a pretty, yet tenacious ADA (for all those past & future Law & Order chicks)!!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
An UPDATED Guide to My Music Links
Here is a brief synopsis of each of my musical links (at left) and why I like them!
NON-CLASSICAL:
Sarah Harmer: This Ontario native is Canadian and proud of it! By staying true to her roots, she is producing some of the most genuine rootsy and folk-y music on either side of the border. And she's a redhead.
Idgy Vaughn: the next big thing to come out of Austin, this small town, Midwestern gal is the real deal. And she's a redhead.
Melissa Auf der Maur: Redhead...Canadian....(sensing a theme here?)
Mindy Smith: a country-ish Nashville artist for those of us who don't listen to C&W radio--and who don't happen to think that Carrie Underwood is the second coming of Dolly-or Tammy- or Loretta~!!! (But Mindy's videos do appear on CMT).
Nellie McKay (pronounced 'Mu-KAI'): a New York original: a militantly animal-loving Vegan who, at age 21, already has two double-CDs under her belt. Put her in the hands of a judicious producer , and she could be the next Diana Krall for the tweeners.
CLASSICAL:
the claremont trio: This picture says it all. I love these young, fun-loving Columbia grads!
(and they have a blog like mine)
Hélène Grimaud: She's French.
If you need another reason to like her, she loves wolves.
Hilary Hahn: In her spare time, she reads German poetry in its original German! (you gotta love that!) And she plays a mean violin. And she has the best blog of any classical musician I know.
NON-CLASSICAL:
Sarah Harmer: This Ontario native is Canadian and proud of it! By staying true to her roots, she is producing some of the most genuine rootsy and folk-y music on either side of the border. And she's a redhead.
Idgy Vaughn: the next big thing to come out of Austin, this small town, Midwestern gal is the real deal. And she's a redhead.
Melissa Auf der Maur: Redhead...Canadian....(sensing a theme here?)
Mindy Smith: a country-ish Nashville artist for those of us who don't listen to C&W radio--and who don't happen to think that Carrie Underwood is the second coming of Dolly-or Tammy- or Loretta~!!! (But Mindy's videos do appear on CMT).
Nellie McKay (pronounced 'Mu-KAI'): a New York original: a militantly animal-loving Vegan who, at age 21, already has two double-CDs under her belt. Put her in the hands of a judicious producer , and she could be the next Diana Krall for the tweeners.
CLASSICAL:
the claremont trio: This picture says it all. I love these young, fun-loving Columbia grads!
(and they have a blog like mine)Hélène Grimaud: She's French.
If you need another reason to like her, she loves wolves.
Hilary Hahn: In her spare time, she reads German poetry in its original German! (you gotta love that!) And she plays a mean violin. And she has the best blog of any classical musician I know.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Paris, je t'aime
"J'n't'aime, pas!" -- foreignfilmguy
Porquoi? (you ask) . . . The ads promise "18 stories by 21 directors" (I still haven't figured out the math on that one). It doesn't take a gourmand to know that is waay too many chefs to make a souffle, which is exactly what these cinematic vignettes amount to: light and airy to be sure, but not substantial enough to make a meal. (I wrote this before I read Stephen Holden's NYT review, where he makes a culinary comparison, too. We both must have seen it on empty stomachs).
I knew going in the track record for these omnibus films wasn't good: a collection of shorts by multiple directors are always graded on their worst episode. ("New York Stories" and "Aria" come to mind). Director Jim Jarmusch is the only director I can think of with a talent for this genre: he's done two, the latest being "Coffee & Cigarettes," and I walked out of both with a positive impression.
And here, the worst is very, very bad. How Bad? French mimes-bad!
Yes, you read that correctly: by the fourth episode a French director resorts to the oldest French cliche imaginable -- two mimes miming their way around Paris! If that doesn't leave a bad taste in your mouth, an even more tiresome vignette is yet to come: something to do with karate-chopping Asian hairdresssers. (I stopped paying attention early on). Pointless, incomprehensible, and stupid. And having nothing to do with Paris, as far as I could tell.
Obviously, no one in control of this venture had the power to say "Sorry, Christopher Doyle; your segment sucks so we're cutting it for the good of the movie" (they'd have to change those ads to '17/20', which they should have done anyway, since Doyle is a cinematographer, and obviously not a director). Which is a shame, because each weak entry dilutes the power of what precedes it. I'd love an extra five minutes with Juliette Binoche, for example, who plays a grieving mother, or the odd couple in Monmartre whose chance meeting opens the film.Those were intriguing characters you wish you had more time with, like the immigrant domestic played by Catalina Sandino Moreno, or Fanny Ardant and Bob Hoskins as a bickering married couple. But there time on screen is over much too soon.
Some directors were able to create little gems with their limited time: the directors who 'got it' are mostly Anglos, curiously (Joel & Ethan Coen, Wes Craven's sweet interlude over a grave in a cemetery: sweet because the cemetery is Pere Lachaise, the grave Oscar Wilde's, and the couple Emily Mortimer and Rufus Sewell). But the three directors who best captured the essence of life, love and Paris are:
3) Tom Tykwer's recap of an entire relationship in the space between two phone calls that actress Natalie Portman makes to her blind boyfriend ("Faubourg Saint-Denis") .
2) the great Alfonso Cuaron's tracking shot of Nick Nolte's energetic conversation with a female companion (Ludivine Sagnier, regrettably filmed in shadows and from a distance) as they walk down a street in 'Parc Monceau'. The subject of their dialogue isn't revealed until the clever payoff at the end.
1) and perhaps the best: Alexander Payne's view of the city through the eyes of a very American tourist ("14th arrondissement"). This Denver postal worker narrates, in her hilariously beginner's French, what it is that makes this city unique, succinctly capturing the allure the City of Light has for all of us foreigners. Now that's a touching love letter, in any language.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
My one-word review of 'The Sopranos' finale:
PERFECT.
(and don't trust anyone's opinion who hasn't watched the final scene at least three times)
Friday, June 01, 2007
A reminder . . .
To whom this blog is dedicated:
the lovely
the lovely
Naomi Watts
-- expecting her first child --
(which will make me naoMI's LiFelong fan!)
Sunday, May 20, 2007
"The perfect date movie ... if you're dating a nun!"
That is my official 'blurb' for the German documentary "Into Great Silence," a behind-the-scenes look at the daily lives of a group of cloistered Carthusian monks living on a hillside monastery in the French Alps. I welcome any publicist to use my quote to promote this film to a wider audience.
(It was either that or "A must-see movie for anyone considering joining a monastery!"--but I didn't think that would apply to as many in the movie-going public).
It's a hard sell to begin with: imagine spending 162-minutes with a bunch of Frenchmen who pray all day. That's what's in store for you when you buy a ticket to Philip Groning's work -- no narrator, no interviews, no musical soundtrack -- but I do recommend it as a tonic to both modern life and modern (i.e. Hollywood) movies. Every time I watched a novice kneeling in prayer on a wooden pew in his 'cell', I couldn't help but think how many CGI-laden shots Imust be missing in a comparable length of celluloid in 'Spiderman 3.'
The movie has a simple-enough structure: intercutting scenes of daily chores around the monastery with scenes of solitary prayer and group services. So a chapel service illuminated only by candlelight precedes scenes of chopping wood, shoveling snow, and feeding a group of feral, and in their own way, cloistered cats. (Even they don't make a sound).
The deliberate pace of these monks as they carry-out their mundane chores (I had had enough the second time the monks had their heads shaved) slowly reveals that even in these simple acts they reveal devotion and commitment to the lives of service they have chosen. The film's beauty lies in the details: chopping celery on front of a magnificently sunlit window; cutting fabric for vestments that will clothe the novices who are about to enter into this strange world; the snow; the stars; the Alps. The cinematography renders these scenes into something more profound
But the camera angles and lighting are sometimes too conspicuous by their artistry. At the same time, Groning's unyielding commitment to stay at a respectful distance, even in the rare glimpse of what these monks do to 'unwind' (sliding down a snow-covered hillside, still in their vestments); the camera stays a good quarter-mile away, rendering inaudible their shouts of joy. This detachment ultimately undermines the filmmaker's intention: we never gain an understanding of why these men have chosen to renounce modern society; what goes on in their minds day after day; what are they praying-reflecting-thinking about these countless hours, while the rest of humanity continues on with their lives, literally just beyond the walls of the monastery?
Groning doesn't allow the audience to learn more about these men by not engaging with them in any way -- an interview with the blind monk nearing the end of his life is too short, and arrives much too late -- by not even sharing with us the moments where they do interact (they have not taken a vow of silence, so they must communicate with each other). In spite of the length of time you spend with these remarkable men (and throughout the film, you get to stare directly at each one of them for a nice, Warholian moment), you walk out of the theater wishing your last 3 hours of observation provided more insight into the men you were observing.
(It was either that or "A must-see movie for anyone considering joining a monastery!"--but I didn't think that would apply to as many in the movie-going public).
It's a hard sell to begin with: imagine spending 162-minutes with a bunch of Frenchmen who pray all day. That's what's in store for you when you buy a ticket to Philip Groning's work -- no narrator, no interviews, no musical soundtrack -- but I do recommend it as a tonic to both modern life and modern (i.e. Hollywood) movies. Every time I watched a novice kneeling in prayer on a wooden pew in his 'cell', I couldn't help but think how many CGI-laden shots Imust be missing in a comparable length of celluloid in 'Spiderman 3.'
The movie has a simple-enough structure: intercutting scenes of daily chores around the monastery with scenes of solitary prayer and group services. So a chapel service illuminated only by candlelight precedes scenes of chopping wood, shoveling snow, and feeding a group of feral, and in their own way, cloistered cats. (Even they don't make a sound).
The deliberate pace of these monks as they carry-out their mundane chores (I had had enough the second time the monks had their heads shaved) slowly reveals that even in these simple acts they reveal devotion and commitment to the lives of service they have chosen. The film's beauty lies in the details: chopping celery on front of a magnificently sunlit window; cutting fabric for vestments that will clothe the novices who are about to enter into this strange world; the snow; the stars; the Alps. The cinematography renders these scenes into something more profound
But the camera angles and lighting are sometimes too conspicuous by their artistry. At the same time, Groning's unyielding commitment to stay at a respectful distance, even in the rare glimpse of what these monks do to 'unwind' (sliding down a snow-covered hillside, still in their vestments); the camera stays a good quarter-mile away, rendering inaudible their shouts of joy. This detachment ultimately undermines the filmmaker's intention: we never gain an understanding of why these men have chosen to renounce modern society; what goes on in their minds day after day; what are they praying-reflecting-thinking about these countless hours, while the rest of humanity continues on with their lives, literally just beyond the walls of the monastery?
Groning doesn't allow the audience to learn more about these men by not engaging with them in any way -- an interview with the blind monk nearing the end of his life is too short, and arrives much too late -- by not even sharing with us the moments where they do interact (they have not taken a vow of silence, so they must communicate with each other). In spite of the length of time you spend with these remarkable men (and throughout the film, you get to stare directly at each one of them for a nice, Warholian moment), you walk out of the theater wishing your last 3 hours of observation provided more insight into the men you were observing.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The state of world cinema -- Part Trois!
I've been promising this post for the last six months--but now is the perfect time to blog about French Cinema! Mas oui! My brother tried to boost the stature of Latin cinema by denigrating the recent contributions of the French. To that I answer: Le cinema francais--c'est magnifique!
[This post is dedicated to the two best French speakers currently residing in the great state of Oklahoma: my nephew, Blaine Palmer, and Marie-Luce!!]
True, I will be the first to admit that the French entry into the Academy Award sweepstakes was a disappointment: Daniele Thompson's Fauteuils d'orchestre (that's Avenue Montaigne to us Americans -- because the distributor apparently doesn't trust us to want to see a movie called "Orchestra seats"). When the best attributes of a movie are the street scenes of Paris--well, then it's simply a travelogue. The charming lead performance by the slightly androgynous (I mean that in a good way!) gamine Cecile de France cannot save this far-fetched, too-cute snapshot of Parisian life. Are we supposed to care about the scary-looking theater usher who listens to bad French pop music (is there any other kind?) on her iPod during classical music concerts? I sure didn't! And what is Sydney Pollack doing in this movie!?!? He looks more uncomfortable here than he did in Eyes Wide Shut!
But this movie is The Sorrow and the Pity compared to Francis Veber's latest French 'comedy' La Doublure ("The Valet.") In spite of its clever opening credits and a great cast -- with a cameo by Karl Lagerfeld hisownself-- this movie has all the weightlessness of Pret-A-Porter, which also tried to slide by on its mise-en-scene (might as well use all my French expressions while I have the chance). It reminded me of the cute Fifties-throwback "Down with Love", only I don't think Veber was aiming for nostalgia here. Veber is clearly running out of ideas, as this movie limps to a conclusion without ever mining its comic potential, in spite of the star-studded contributions of Daniel Auteuil ("Cache"), Virginie Ledoyen, and Kristin-Scott Thomas ("The English Patient"). I say comic, yet I only got one of its in-jokes: a mistaken identification of a young hot model of today to the Eighties model Ines de-la-Fressange (I remember her!) by a clueless middle-aged character. And the contribution of that same pianist-(not model)-turned-actress, Alice Taglioni, proves once and for all that the most beautiful French model can have all the personality of your typical American model; i.e, none! Sacre bleu!
Even the latest French import to generate a buzz -- the lamely-titled "The Page Turner" -- is a major disappointment: all set-up, without a satisfying payoff! I'm not wishing the creepy young girl go all 'Fatal Attraction' on her nemesis (even though the filmmaker practically leaves a breadcrumb trail for that scenario) but to have it end with such an unsatisfying, wimpy conclusion is such a sucker-punch to the audience, you have to think the director deliberately set you up for a Hollywood ending, then pulled the rug out from under you, you silly Americans!
But I am here to praise French cinema -- not bury it! This past year we saw the triumphant return to US screens of both the restored Rules of the Game and Army of Shadows: two supreme classics by Jean Renoir and Jean-Pierre Melville, respectively. Sure, forty years is a long time between classics, but the list of promising French directors with the potential to create a classic is long: Francois Ozon, Cedric Klapisch, Andre Techine, Lucas Belvaux, Laurent Cantet, Bruno Dumont, Claire Denis, Cedric Kahn, Claude Miller, Patrice Leconte, Arnaud Desplechin, even enfant terrible Gaspar Noe. I won't deny that the most-compelling movies in French of late are not by Frenchmen: Micheal Haneke's Cache and La pianiste; Indigenes; the Dardennes brothers of Belgium. But the old timers still have some life in them: Claude Chabrol, Jacques Rivette, Eric Rohmer (all admittedly past their prime), and my favorite, Patrice Chereau.
So I stick by my conclusion: The State of French Cinema? C'est si bon!
[This post is dedicated to the two best French speakers currently residing in the great state of Oklahoma: my nephew, Blaine Palmer, and Marie-Luce!!]
True, I will be the first to admit that the French entry into the Academy Award sweepstakes was a disappointment: Daniele Thompson's Fauteuils d'orchestre (that's Avenue Montaigne to us Americans -- because the distributor apparently doesn't trust us to want to see a movie called "Orchestra seats"). When the best attributes of a movie are the street scenes of Paris--well, then it's simply a travelogue. The charming lead performance by the slightly androgynous (I mean that in a good way!) gamine Cecile de France cannot save this far-fetched, too-cute snapshot of Parisian life. Are we supposed to care about the scary-looking theater usher who listens to bad French pop music (is there any other kind?) on her iPod during classical music concerts? I sure didn't! And what is Sydney Pollack doing in this movie!?!? He looks more uncomfortable here than he did in Eyes Wide Shut!
But this movie is The Sorrow and the Pity compared to Francis Veber's latest French 'comedy' La Doublure ("The Valet.") In spite of its clever opening credits and a great cast -- with a cameo by Karl Lagerfeld hisownself-- this movie has all the weightlessness of Pret-A-Porter, which also tried to slide by on its mise-en-scene (might as well use all my French expressions while I have the chance). It reminded me of the cute Fifties-throwback "Down with Love", only I don't think Veber was aiming for nostalgia here. Veber is clearly running out of ideas, as this movie limps to a conclusion without ever mining its comic potential, in spite of the star-studded contributions of Daniel Auteuil ("Cache"), Virginie Ledoyen, and Kristin-Scott Thomas ("The English Patient"). I say comic, yet I only got one of its in-jokes: a mistaken identification of a young hot model of today to the Eighties model Ines de-la-Fressange (I remember her!) by a clueless middle-aged character. And the contribution of that same pianist-(not model)-turned-actress, Alice Taglioni, proves once and for all that the most beautiful French model can have all the personality of your typical American model; i.e, none! Sacre bleu!
Even the latest French import to generate a buzz -- the lamely-titled "The Page Turner" -- is a major disappointment: all set-up, without a satisfying payoff! I'm not wishing the creepy young girl go all 'Fatal Attraction' on her nemesis (even though the filmmaker practically leaves a breadcrumb trail for that scenario) but to have it end with such an unsatisfying, wimpy conclusion is such a sucker-punch to the audience, you have to think the director deliberately set you up for a Hollywood ending, then pulled the rug out from under you, you silly Americans!
But I am here to praise French cinema -- not bury it! This past year we saw the triumphant return to US screens of both the restored Rules of the Game and Army of Shadows: two supreme classics by Jean Renoir and Jean-Pierre Melville, respectively. Sure, forty years is a long time between classics, but the list of promising French directors with the potential to create a classic is long: Francois Ozon, Cedric Klapisch, Andre Techine, Lucas Belvaux, Laurent Cantet, Bruno Dumont, Claire Denis, Cedric Kahn, Claude Miller, Patrice Leconte, Arnaud Desplechin, even enfant terrible Gaspar Noe. I won't deny that the most-compelling movies in French of late are not by Frenchmen: Micheal Haneke's Cache and La pianiste; Indigenes; the Dardennes brothers of Belgium. But the old timers still have some life in them: Claude Chabrol, Jacques Rivette, Eric Rohmer (all admittedly past their prime), and my favorite, Patrice Chereau.
So I stick by my conclusion: The State of French Cinema? C'est si bon!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Volver was robbed!
That is my last word on the Best Foreign Film Oscar race of 2006. After having seen all five nominated movies, I can now say that Almodovar's latest is at least the equal of two of the nominees -- the excellent "Pan's Labyrinth" from Mexico, and the eventual winner from Germany, "The Lives of Others" -- and is clearly superior to the other three: Denmark's Efter Brylluppet ("After the Wedding"); Algeria's Indigenes ("Days of Glory"); and 'Canada's' "Water" (which is about as Canadian as the Blue Jays starting lineup!).
I found Indigenes to be the best of the three (I will discuss it in more detail in a later post entitled "Fighting the Good Fight"). Like Water, Efter begins in the subcontinent of India, leaving the audience off-balance momentarily. Not to worry: when the action shifts to Kobnhavn (Copenhagen) the movie slides into familiar Dogma territory: emotionally intense scenes of angst and anger, scripted by the sure hand of Lars von Trier-acolyte Anders Thomas Jensen, whose string of hits begins with 1999's Mifune, and extends to 2004's Brothers and the upcoming Red Road (premiered U.S. in the at the AFI-Dallas Film Fest in 2007). Only this film has a musical soundtrack (thankfully); one of the strange charms of the movie is being introduced to the Donald Trump-like character of listening to "It's Raining Men" on his car radio--then later dancing to it at his birthday party! [Picture a bunch of straight, white Europeans getting down with the gay anthem in the land of the midnight sun!]
There are fine performances all around, especially by the lead actor, (a Danish Viggo Mortensen!) and the actress who plays his daughter. That cannot mask the flaws in the movie's structure and technique, including an unnecessary, too-pat ending. In Volver, you know from the start you are in the hands of a master: so you sit back and let him take you wherever he wants to go.
It speaks volumes to the lameness of the Hollywood Foreign Press that, with the wealth of good foreign films in competition, their lack of imagination led them to nominate two 'American' films: Letters from Iwo Jima and the execrable Apocalypto, in their Foreign Film category.
I found Indigenes to be the best of the three (I will discuss it in more detail in a later post entitled "Fighting the Good Fight"). Like Water, Efter begins in the subcontinent of India, leaving the audience off-balance momentarily. Not to worry: when the action shifts to Kobnhavn (Copenhagen) the movie slides into familiar Dogma territory: emotionally intense scenes of angst and anger, scripted by the sure hand of Lars von Trier-acolyte Anders Thomas Jensen, whose string of hits begins with 1999's Mifune, and extends to 2004's Brothers and the upcoming Red Road (premiered U.S. in the at the AFI-Dallas Film Fest in 2007). Only this film has a musical soundtrack (thankfully); one of the strange charms of the movie is being introduced to the Donald Trump-like character of listening to "It's Raining Men" on his car radio--then later dancing to it at his birthday party! [Picture a bunch of straight, white Europeans getting down with the gay anthem in the land of the midnight sun!]
There are fine performances all around, especially by the lead actor, (a Danish Viggo Mortensen!) and the actress who plays his daughter. That cannot mask the flaws in the movie's structure and technique, including an unnecessary, too-pat ending. In Volver, you know from the start you are in the hands of a master: so you sit back and let him take you wherever he wants to go.
It speaks volumes to the lameness of the Hollywood Foreign Press that, with the wealth of good foreign films in competition, their lack of imagination led them to nominate two 'American' films: Letters from Iwo Jima and the execrable Apocalypto, in their Foreign Film category.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The State of World Cinema -- Part Deux!
It has been awhile since I picked up on this theme...but as Film Festival season kicks into high gear, this past week I have seen movies from Denmark, Turkey, Italy, Argentina, and Slovenia, and all I have to say is....The Slovenian Film Industry has a LOT of catching up to do!! OY!
I went to my first "WorldFest Houston 2007" film, offensively-titled -- for an ostensible 'comedy' -- "Labour Equals Freedom" (or 'Delo Osvobaja' for you Slovenian speakers) on the recommendation of IMDB-critic Matija from Ljubljana, who called it "The Best Slovenian Movie. EVER." Well, I am just glad that Matija is qualified to make that assessment, and not me! A very depressing look at life in a post-EU Balkan country, it bills itself as a comedy, without having a single laugh in it! That takes ___ (whatever the Slovenian word for 'balls' is). It has nothing to recommend it.
I could say the same thing about the Turkish and Argentine films I saw, but I will not: because "Climates" (IKLIMLER) and "Glue" do not totally suck..
The first, because it is the product of an accomplished, talented director: Nuri Bilge Ceylan, who can wring emotional truth out of characters and situations that are otherwise lifeless and unsympathetic. It helps that he is directing his stunning wife in a series of gut-wrenching scenes that only hint at her character's inner turmoil. It is a great performance; unfortunately, the movie is not 'about' her, but about the selfish, self-absorbed male character (played by the director himself), who asks for, and receives, Zero sympathy from the audience (remember the dude in his last film "Distant" (Uzak)? He's positively loveable compared to this loser!!) -- A prize to any of my readers who actually DO remember the dude from Uzak!!-- It also helps that several scenes are shot with the stunning backdrop of Turkiye in all its diverse and seasonal glory.
"Glue" is a first feature by a London-trained Patagonian filmmaker Alexis dos Santos, who succeeds in showing the world that his country's teenagers are as vacuous and uninteresting as teenagers everywhere. If you've seen Larry Clark's overrated "Kids", you've seen this movie. The blurb says it will "take you back to those awkward and excruciating teenage years" -- well, I'm sorry, I never sniffed glue while giving my best friend a hand job! (I guess I missed out). Seen as a totally-improvised home movie (that started out as a short), rather than as a fully-formed theatrical release, I guess it does have moments of artistry. I just don't see the humor in a jilted wife beating up her rival while calling her an "oily f**ing puta" (but again, I was in the minority in the audience).
Ever the glutton for punishment, stay tuned for more exciting film festival features!!
I went to my first "WorldFest Houston 2007" film, offensively-titled -- for an ostensible 'comedy' -- "Labour Equals Freedom" (or 'Delo Osvobaja' for you Slovenian speakers) on the recommendation of IMDB-critic Matija from Ljubljana, who called it "The Best Slovenian Movie. EVER." Well, I am just glad that Matija is qualified to make that assessment, and not me! A very depressing look at life in a post-EU Balkan country, it bills itself as a comedy, without having a single laugh in it! That takes ___ (whatever the Slovenian word for 'balls' is). It has nothing to recommend it.
I could say the same thing about the Turkish and Argentine films I saw, but I will not: because "Climates" (IKLIMLER) and "Glue" do not totally suck..
The first, because it is the product of an accomplished, talented director: Nuri Bilge Ceylan, who can wring emotional truth out of characters and situations that are otherwise lifeless and unsympathetic. It helps that he is directing his stunning wife in a series of gut-wrenching scenes that only hint at her character's inner turmoil. It is a great performance; unfortunately, the movie is not 'about' her, but about the selfish, self-absorbed male character (played by the director himself), who asks for, and receives, Zero sympathy from the audience (remember the dude in his last film "Distant" (Uzak)? He's positively loveable compared to this loser!!) -- A prize to any of my readers who actually DO remember the dude from Uzak!!-- It also helps that several scenes are shot with the stunning backdrop of Turkiye in all its diverse and seasonal glory.
"Glue" is a first feature by a London-trained Patagonian filmmaker Alexis dos Santos, who succeeds in showing the world that his country's teenagers are as vacuous and uninteresting as teenagers everywhere. If you've seen Larry Clark's overrated "Kids", you've seen this movie. The blurb says it will "take you back to those awkward and excruciating teenage years" -- well, I'm sorry, I never sniffed glue while giving my best friend a hand job! (I guess I missed out). Seen as a totally-improvised home movie (that started out as a short), rather than as a fully-formed theatrical release, I guess it does have moments of artistry. I just don't see the humor in a jilted wife beating up her rival while calling her an "oily f**ing puta" (but again, I was in the minority in the audience).
Ever the glutton for punishment, stay tuned for more exciting film festival features!!
Sunday, April 01, 2007
INLAND EMPIRE
"That was some fucked-up shit!"
That was the memorable, if coarse, one-sentence review of my friend, Goldie Heidi Gider, upon exiting a screening of "Memento" in Dupont Circle. I can only hope that Goldie never, EVER sees David Lynch's "Inland Empire" -- a film that will leave even die-hard fans of "Mulholland Drive" (like myself) 'puzzled,' if not totally 'f**ed-up. '
Make no mistake: "Inland Emprie" will "F*** You Up." The movie starts off promisingly enough: with a scene involving not one, but two "Seinfeld" alums -- Susan's mother, Mrs. Ross (affecting a thick Russian accent) and Mr. Pitt (!). But then it spends WAAY too much time setting up the premise: Laura Dern's actress character, Nikki, begins to shoot a movie with Justin Theroux and directed by Jeremy Irons (who, like a true British thespian, attacks his role like he's in a movie where it matters that he create a believable character -- bless his heart!). And he's working with a film crew that totals, by my count, four! Four people making a Hollywood studio release in a studio without lights? That's the most f-ed up part of this movie!
This section -- the first, interminable hour -- is dreadful: poorly, and cheaply, shot, without any of Lynch's trademark music score, and undone by the black hole of Harry Dean Stanton's "acting." I put that term in quotes because, if this man EVER had any acting talent (I still need to be convinced) he has most-certainly lost it in the intervening 20 years since he has appeared in anything of import. The man sucks the life out of every scene he is in!
But the main problem with this movie is Lynch's insistence on using that oh-so-hip new invention -- 'digital video.' Someone please tell me what the advantage is of being able to shoot out-of-focus close-ups of the individual beads of sweat on the pockmarked face of a character actor?? This is progress? Digital video makes even the lovely British actress Julia Ormond look homely!
Yet Lynch has declared this is the ONLY medium he will use from now on. I guess that means this is the last David Lynch film I will ever see -- unless he decides to make "Mulholland Drive 2."
The story is basically this: while shooting the 'remake' of a Polish movie that was abandoned after the two leads were murdered, Nikki has a fling with her co-star, spies on her jealous husband (also Polish), gets trapped in a parallel universe, travels in and out of portals (or 'wormholes,' for the sci-fi inclined) that represent her subconscious (the 'Inland Empire' of the title), where the incidents surrounding the earlier Polish film seem eerily familiar, and eventually trades places with the young girl who's been watching the whole story unfold on her TV. (And that's just the part I understood!)
Of course, I could be totally wrong about all of this -- the Inland Empire could be somewhere in Poland, I'll have to check my atlas -- but it doesn't really matter. In fact, you could come and go at any point during the film, and you would not gain (or lose) any understanding whatsoever. I had to smile when Lynch subtitled the Polish actor's dialogue: what's the point, when nothing they say makes sense in any language? The scenes in Poland actually have a more professional look, making me wish we were watching the filming of THAT movie, instead.
The movie picks up when Nikki gets trapped in a house nicely appointed with Fifties-era furniture, no doubt bought at the "Blue Velvet" garage sale. It is also nicely appointed with young, hot babes -- a halfway house for jilted exes of Justin Theroux's character (or not). They bring some life to this moribund tale: dancing to 'The Lo-co-motion;' showing each other their breasts....it's all good stuff. But soon, Nikki gets trapped in a Southern, white-trash existence, with that same Polish husband, where she gets a house call from -- who else? -- Mary Steenbergen! At this point, I would not have been surprised had she brought Ted Danson with her, wearing a giant rabbit head!
I haven't mentioned the giant talking rabbits, have I? I actually looked forward to seeing these three, dressed in human clothes, on a stage delivering their lines to an appreciative (if easily amused) audience. You know you are watching a BAD David Lynch film when you want to see more of the talking rabbits!
And I haven't even gotten to the WEIRD part! That comes at about the 2-hour, 40-minute mark, when any sane moviegoer with a sense of the preciousness of time would have walked out of the theater. It starts when Nikki walks through another sinister-looking hallway (will she ever learn?) and shoots a guy who we've seen earlier with a light bulb stuck in his mouth.
All credit goes to the fearlessness of Laura Dern--Lynch doesn't ask her to give a performance as much as perform a series of acting exercises (playing a white trash Southerner in one scene, an abused hooker in another, and at the film's climax, vomiting and bleeding to death on the dirty streets of Hollywood & Vine after being stabbed in the stomach with a screwdriver by 'Sabrina' (Ms. Ormond). I guarantee there is no acting school in the world that has taught that scene! FYI: That scene turns out to be part of Jeremy Iron's movie (remember him?), so I'm not spoiling anything. The aforementioned babes turn up as hookers on the same street.
The film ties together nicely at the end...strange for a movie that is complete nonsense for its 179 minute running time, and there is a "sweet" payoff in the last scene that is a must-see for you 'Mulholland' fans: a scene so cheeky and self-referential (involving, as far as I can tell, actors from previous Lynch films, including Natassja Kinski, the lovely Laura Elena Harring, and a babe with a prosthetic leg ... they seem to be everywhere these days, don't they?) that blows away the much-discussed final shot in "The Departed." The final credits reveal that Naomi Watts contributed a 'special vocal performance'... one of the talking rabbits, I suspect... and include a fun, energetic music video, as well (out-of-focus, naturally) that makes you wish the rest of the film had at least half of that spirit and inventiveness.
It speaks to the power of Lynch's vision that the five minutes of brilliance contained in this movie had me exiting the theater -- 'Back to Planet Earth' as one patron said -- thinking "I'm glad I saw that." Now, that is truly fucked-up!!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
The first TWO great movies of 2007
1) BREACH - a stellar performance by Chris Cooper as the real-life spy Robert Hanssen makes Billy Ray's latest expose on the dark side of Washington's power brokers (he did the compelling "Shattered Glass") a must-see. D.C. never looked so ... SNOWY! (It was filmed in Canada, except for some scenes with Laura Linney in the DC Metro). And the actress playing Ryan Phillippe's East-German hottie of a wife is a revelation, especially when you realize she is the very North American actress Caroline Dhavernas, star of Fox's all too-brief series 'Wonderland.'
2) ZODIAC -- another compelling film for intelligent filmgoers: more about the obsessiveness of solving a puzzle (in the great tradition of both 'All the President's Men' and 'J.F.K.') than about the real-life events that surround the story. As in "Breach," the film is propelled forward by a trio of riveting performances: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey, Jr. -- and actor who by all measures is at the top of his game. True to his previous films, David Fincher ("Se7en") films the Zodiac murders in agonizing, excruciating detail.
It is nice to see a movie that devotes so much attention to period details (from 1969-71): from the clothes to the music to the overhead shot of the downtown San Francisco construction site that was to become the Transamerica Tower. If the movie ends without resolution for any of the characters ... hey, reality bites!
2) ZODIAC -- another compelling film for intelligent filmgoers: more about the obsessiveness of solving a puzzle (in the great tradition of both 'All the President's Men' and 'J.F.K.') than about the real-life events that surround the story. As in "Breach," the film is propelled forward by a trio of riveting performances: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey, Jr. -- and actor who by all measures is at the top of his game. True to his previous films, David Fincher ("Se7en") films the Zodiac murders in agonizing, excruciating detail.
It is nice to see a movie that devotes so much attention to period details (from 1969-71): from the clothes to the music to the overhead shot of the downtown San Francisco construction site that was to become the Transamerica Tower. If the movie ends without resolution for any of the characters ... hey, reality bites!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Two movies in 2007
TWO! That is all I've had time to see so far this year, what with seeing all the Oscar movies in January, and now catching up on the 2006 Foreign Films that are now in wide release. (I will devote a future post to them), and the usual glut of slasher flicks this time of year.
1. "Factory Girl" -- Sienna Miller is brilliant! She really 'burns up the screen' and is utterly convincing. It is unfortunate that the movie around her doesn't live up to her performance. Sure, Guy Pearce is an eerily-accurate Andy Warhol (right down to his skin -- which makes him look like a burn victim); and the movie pulls no punches depicting his behavior in a negative light. But consider this:
Problem #1: Casting. As in Jimmy Fallon, as Edie's gay, blue-blooded sidekick. He's still Jimmy Fallon, (ready to mug for the camera as if he's on SNL) and he's got no business being in the Sixties, hangin' out at the factory!
Problem #2: Casting, As in "WTF is Hayden Christiansen doing in this movie??" I know what he is trying to do (God love him) -- but he is completely unequipped to carry it off. His scenes make you cringe.
Problem #3: The director (George Hickenlooper): he is a documentarian, and he makes up for his lack of imagination by digging up every camera trick from 'Easy Rider' to denote drug use and the Swinging Sixties. Forty years ago, it was cool. Now it is lame.
2. "Puccini for Beginners" -- I had to love this movie because it is an indie, filmed in Manhattan, with a good cast and lots of witty, intellectual banter, with a passing reference to Opera! And coincidentally, I saw a movie last year at the Houston Film Festival fitting that description exactly (the clever, but shoe-string budgeted and a bit amateurish "I Will Avenge You, Iago!").
"Puccini" is a better movie, but still light as a feather. And don't be fooled, Opera lovers: the references to opera are very fleeting--it's the mark of a lazy screenwriter to make the lead an opera fan (so she must be sensitive) yet drop the conceit after one scene. And if I criticize 'Factory Girl' for reverting to 'Easy Rider'-era imagery, then it's only fair to call this film out for its repeated Annie Hall references: the 'strangers who join in on the conversation' trick works two of the ten times it is employed here.
The movie uses the streets of the Villages as its backgound -- the bookstores, movie theaters, and cafes-- and savvy Manhattanites (like me) can pinpoint exactly where they filmed (Greenwich Village Cinema on W. 12th!).
The cast is first-rate: I confess to being a huge Elizabeth Reaser fan (she was in "Stay" "The Family Stone" and last year's ISA winner "The Sweet Land"--a prize for you if you've seen even ONE of these! If you haven't, she has a four-episode 'arc' on Grey's Anatomy this season), stage actor Justin Kirk, and the hard-working, never successful Gretchen Mol. What sets this movie apart is having an openly bisexual protagonist who (shock!) has an active and fulfilling sex life! Instead of pandering to what it thinks a straight audience will accept by stripping the gay character of any sexual desires (Hollywood), or relegating him/her to a sex-obsessed comic relief sidekick (Hollywood again).
Sure, we've seen the lesbian romantic comedy before--"Kissing Jessica Stein"--but that was rather chaste, as I recall. And the genre can use another one or two--it has a lot of catching up to do.
1. "Factory Girl" -- Sienna Miller is brilliant! She really 'burns up the screen' and is utterly convincing. It is unfortunate that the movie around her doesn't live up to her performance. Sure, Guy Pearce is an eerily-accurate Andy Warhol (right down to his skin -- which makes him look like a burn victim); and the movie pulls no punches depicting his behavior in a negative light. But consider this:
Problem #1: Casting. As in Jimmy Fallon, as Edie's gay, blue-blooded sidekick. He's still Jimmy Fallon, (ready to mug for the camera as if he's on SNL) and he's got no business being in the Sixties, hangin' out at the factory!
Problem #2: Casting, As in "WTF is Hayden Christiansen doing in this movie??" I know what he is trying to do (God love him) -- but he is completely unequipped to carry it off. His scenes make you cringe.
Problem #3: The director (George Hickenlooper): he is a documentarian, and he makes up for his lack of imagination by digging up every camera trick from 'Easy Rider' to denote drug use and the Swinging Sixties. Forty years ago, it was cool. Now it is lame.
2. "Puccini for Beginners" -- I had to love this movie because it is an indie, filmed in Manhattan, with a good cast and lots of witty, intellectual banter, with a passing reference to Opera! And coincidentally, I saw a movie last year at the Houston Film Festival fitting that description exactly (the clever, but shoe-string budgeted and a bit amateurish "I Will Avenge You, Iago!").
"Puccini" is a better movie, but still light as a feather. And don't be fooled, Opera lovers: the references to opera are very fleeting--it's the mark of a lazy screenwriter to make the lead an opera fan (so she must be sensitive) yet drop the conceit after one scene. And if I criticize 'Factory Girl' for reverting to 'Easy Rider'-era imagery, then it's only fair to call this film out for its repeated Annie Hall references: the 'strangers who join in on the conversation' trick works two of the ten times it is employed here.
The movie uses the streets of the Villages as its backgound -- the bookstores, movie theaters, and cafes-- and savvy Manhattanites (like me) can pinpoint exactly where they filmed (Greenwich Village Cinema on W. 12th!).
The cast is first-rate: I confess to being a huge Elizabeth Reaser fan (she was in "Stay" "The Family Stone" and last year's ISA winner "The Sweet Land"--a prize for you if you've seen even ONE of these! If you haven't, she has a four-episode 'arc' on Grey's Anatomy this season), stage actor Justin Kirk, and the hard-working, never successful Gretchen Mol. What sets this movie apart is having an openly bisexual protagonist who (shock!) has an active and fulfilling sex life! Instead of pandering to what it thinks a straight audience will accept by stripping the gay character of any sexual desires (Hollywood), or relegating him/her to a sex-obsessed comic relief sidekick (Hollywood again).
Sure, we've seen the lesbian romantic comedy before--"Kissing Jessica Stein"--but that was rather chaste, as I recall. And the genre can use another one or two--it has a lot of catching up to do.
Elizabeth Reaser
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