Where Was I?

December 26, 2010 --

Oh yes, I'm supposed to be reviewing movies on this site.

LOVE & OTHER DRUGS
Dir: Edward Zwick

What a disappointing mess of a movie. Is it a comedy? an 'Up In The Air' wannabe? a disease-of-the-week melodrama? or just an ill-conceived mish-mash of all of the above? I vote for Nos. 2 & 4: what begins as a story of an off-putting, cocky salesman morphs into a clunky Parkinson's disease awareness movie, then reverts to lame Viagra jokes for what passes for slapstick. Forget Ivan Reitman: this director can't even rip-off Judd Apatow effectively! Case in point: the Jonah Hill-role (i.e., the fat, horny sidekick) goes not to Jonah Hill, but to a fatter, un-funnier nobody named Josh Gad. Who?

Anne Hathaway does what she can to salvage this mess, but her talents deserve better.

You Will Meet A Tall, Dark Stranger
Dir: Woody Allen

I must confess a soft spot for Woody's London phase. No, he hasn't broken any new ground with Match Point and Scoop, but the change in locale has broadened his perspective somewhat. In his latest, he still relies on a tired premise: the mid-life crisis of a well-past mid-life Anthony Hopkins (a great actor wasted!) and the repercussions visited on his wife and adult daughter (a radiant Naomi Watts).

Woody's alter ego this time is Naomi's writer-husband, and unconvincing Josh Brolin, who begins an unconvincing affair with his neighbor, the much-younger Freida Pinto. (Why would she give up her life for this untalented schlub? This could only happen in Woody's world.) Naomi has the film's most genuine moments of vulnerability and regret, opposite her boss, played by Antonio Banderas.

The only message of the film (that I can gather) is that everyone is delusional, so you might as well delude yourself into being happy. For an existentialist like Woody, I consider that an optimistic outlook!

Best Films of the Summer!

August 31st --

Yes, the summer is officially OVER!

Time to recap the movie season, and I have to say, it was a GOOD summer at the movies! (A statement I rarely make).

Here are my Top Seven movies of the summer:

1. INCEPTION
2. TOY STORY 3
3. THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT
4. SALT
5. WINTER'S BONE
6. IRON MAN 2
7. ROBIN HOOD

I know what you're thinking: "Winter's Bone? WTF? That doesn't sound like a summer movie!" Trust me: another Sundance darling, it is this year's Frozen River -- a gritty, unsentimental look at 'rural' America (as seen through the lens of a indie filmmaker, that is). Sure, that has proven to be a recipe for disaster (just look at the misbegotten Junebug or the ouevre of David Gordon Green). I've never been to the Missouri Ozarks, so I cannot vouch for Winter's Bone's authenticity, but this film adheres to its vision from the start -- in the same way last year's Gone Baby Gone brought you into the heart of South Boston. It just feels right. Newcomer Jennifer Lawrence deserves the lion's share of the credit for carrying the movie with her lead performance.

Speaking of indie filmmakers, Lisa Cholodenko defies all expectations with her latest: The Kids Are All Right. As a lesbian raising a family with her partner in real life, one would expect her to make an affirmative, totally-positive portrait of this new nuclear family: two lesbians raising well-adjusted teens who are the product of an anonymous sperm-donor. One would be wrong! Instead, she gives us a warts-and-all look at confused teens whose relationship with their parents is exactly like a 'traditional' family's, i.e., dysfunctional. The fault lines between a couple (the excellent duo of Annette Bening and Julianne Moore, the two bravest actresses working today!) who have settled into a comfortable (boring) marriage are also exposed when the teens decide to invite the sperm donor into their lives.

This is where Hollywood takes over: the donor looks NOTHING LIKE David Crosby!! (a Melissa Etheridge reference, in case you don't know). Played to perfection by Mark Ruffalo, he is a cocky charmer, "pleased with himself" (as one of the moms comments). But he is as confused as the rest of the family as to the role he is supposed to play in this family dynamic.


SPOILER ALERT (in RED):
It was uncomfortable watching one of the Mom's fall into a heterosexual relationship with him. Together with another scene I won't reveal, it left this hetero viewer with the uneasy impression that lesbians can switch teams with ease.

That aside, it is ultimately a much bolder statement to make that this same-sex marriage is just like all other marriages -- a minefield of shifting emotions that survive or fail on the commitment of two people. (He says confidently, having never been married).

I won't dwell on the 3 obvious blockbusters on my list, other than to say Angelina Jolie stands alone among actresses who could pull off a role like SALT. Originally written for Tom Cruise, I can't even think of a male actor working today (other than Daniel Day Lewis) who could have brought the ambiguity required to make this somewhat preposterous story believable. I, for one, was genuinely convinced that the filmmakers pulled the rug out from under its audience midway through this Bourne-like juggernaut of a movie. But just how preposterous is this story of a network of Russian spies living ordinary lives in America? (It wins the award for topicality, hands down).

Nobody can pull the rug out from under an audience like Christopher Nolan , director of the summer's most-talked about movie: INCEPTION. I feel like I am the last blogger to weigh-in on this movie (according to A.O. Scott's New York Times story, I am). Let me come down firmly on the side of the film's supporters, for while the movie falls short of the mind-blowing thrill of The (original) Matrix, the intricate puzzle Nolan creates is always gripping to watch. Marvel at, really, for it is a tour de force of storytelling (that has always been his strong suit).

SPOILER ALERT (in RED): Sure, this particular story left me with more questions than answers (Did they really need SIX people to enter that guy's head? How was that one dude able to change his appearance? And what's with all the snow? -- I lost track of whose dream we were in at that point). Questions aside, the show-stopping set-piece of the film is a half-hour sequence that deftly intercuts between three separate dreams (maybe four). Time slows down as you go down each level, so each sequence runs at a different speed. As you watch a 20-minute sequence on one level, the top level dream is only running for 2 seconds. Nolan's gift is that the viewer never gets lost: as the action escalates on two separate levels of storytelling, Nolan repeatedly returns to a van slowly falling backwards over a bridge into a river, thus grounding the audience in a sort of 'present.' Needless to say, it is the longest two seconds in film history. But it is brilliant!

I'm glad I am not the only person to recognize the film's similarities with DiCaprio's previous release, Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island (I just cannot articulate it as well as A.O. Scott: "In both films Mr. DiCaprio plays a troubled professional with a shaky grip on reality and an unresolved, guilt-tinged relationship with his vanished and beloved wife.") That wife is played stunningly in each film by Michele Williams and Marian Cotillard, respectively. The plot twist in Scorsese's film was a tad obvious -- especially to anyone who remembers the silent German classic The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (and I know film buff Scorsese certainly does!).

Nolan, on the other hand, introduces a subtle feeling of doubt before the big finale, but the possibility that is implanted (incepted?) in the viewer's brain by Cotillard's character in no way diminishes the impact of the final shot. Not since Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker (1979) has a last shot packed such a wallop (Scorsese may be the only film buff to catch that obscure reference!). In Stalker, that was because after 2 hours and 40 minutes of watching nothing happen, suddenly something happens!

Inception is a mere 2 hours and 22 minutes, and the satisfying final twist has its own logic to it: like Nolan's true 'masterpiece,' Memento, the movie couldn't end any other way. I don't see that as a cop-out, or a contrivance, as much as a payoff -- a reward for going along this far down the director's rabbit hole.

I'm in mourning

August 29th --

It is a sad day for Houston film lovers: the Angelika Houston has shut its doors -- forever! Apparently, the employees were as clueless as the general public. I should have guessed something was up when the online schedule stopped after Tuesday (Aug. 31st). But now how am I ever going to see "Farewell," "Cairo Time," and "Life During Wartime"?

Bring Me the Head of Rodrigo Garcia

JUNE 8, 2010 --

Mother & Child
Director & Writer: Rodrigo Garcia

Nothing gets foreignfilmguy's juices flowing more than an aggressively bad movie -- not a campy bad movie, or lowest-common-denominator, make-a-quick-buck bad, or bloated Hollywood mega-production bad -- I'm talking earnest, "let's make a statement movie" bad! Readers, I give you "Mother & Child."

This ill-conceived attempt at filmmaking labors on at a painfully bloated 120-minutes, and arrives stillborn (that's it for my childbirth references, I promise). If I were to "pitch" a movie as a cross between "Juno" and "Crash" I'd be laughed out of every film studio in Hollywood. Except one, apparently, and that is how this misbegotten movie got made.

I am not exaggerating when I make that comparison, for the movie inartfully tries to mesh the story of a pregnant teen who somehow gets it in her head that she is empowered to chose which parents are worthy of the child she is about to give up for adoption, with a strained, let's cast every out -of-work 'ethnic' actor we can find and have their stories crash together conceit that only exists inside a screenwriter's head. At least in Crash, those characters existed in a specific and palpable place and time: a seething Los Angeles of today. The current movie is so poorly made that its characters exist in a cinematic void--a black hole of "we can't afford extras in this scene, so let's pretend everybody in the office went home." (The extras they do employ are noticeably bad actors, so perhaps they made a virtue out of necessity).

The office in question is a supposedly high-powered LA law firm run by the woefully miscast Samuel L. Jackson, who hires the equally miscast Naomi Watts as a driven, amoral single attorney who is adopted (otherwise she wouldn't fit neatly into the script's outline!) and is supposed to be such a hot-shot she can move from firm to firm every three years and still be hired on the spot -- not that the screenwriters would ever stoop to show her in action (that would screw up their carefully-crafted plotline!). They might as well be the only two employees in the firm, for all the mis-en-scene we get from their stilted office scenes together. [Another case in point: when Jackson invites his new hire to a firm welcoming party, he takes up valuable screentime to explain that he didn't invite the other partners because they are 'boring' (not that the director was too lazy or cheap to populate the scene with believable background players).]

The other main character is the teen-mother who long ago gave-up Watts' character for adoption, an event which has haunted her ever since. Now well-past middle age and caring for her dying mother, this embittered, unlikeable woman is the ONLY character with any hint of reality to her ... due solely to the fearless performance by Annette Bening, who alone is able to breathe life into these lifeless, thin as the paper they are under-written on characters. If I come across as too harsh on the screenwriter, let me offer two examples:

1) the great Samuel L. Jackson is asked to play a name partner in a law firm who is seduced -- no, mounted -- fully-clothed, by the lovely Aussie actress Naomi Watts, who orders him not to move during intercourse, all the while keeping his Tucker Carlson bow-tie fully tied. There are so many things wrong with that scene, I wouldn't know where to begin. (Nobody benefits from a scene like that, that's all I'll say).

2) the gratuitous introduction, mid-story, of a wise beyond her years teen character (Juno again!) to interact with the now-pregnant, now suddenly warm and outgoing Ms. Watts -- only the teenager is blind! The blind who can see -- get it? I would make a crack about 'Screenwriting 101' class here, but if I ever came across a script like this in any kind of class, I'd give it a big red 'F.' Why? Because I assure you nothing that comes out these characters' mouths have ever been spoken by a real human being. Ever. They aren't people at all, merely fictional constructs that exist only to further the script's tortured path to its big statement.

Yet the only "statement" Director Garcia seems to want to make is: "Being a mother can turn the most-coldblooded, shut-off woman into a sensitive, caring soul." Early on I sensed the entire course this movie would take; then it dawned on me how far I had to go to get there. Let me say it was the longest 2 hours of my life. I know, certain females might say, "If you were a woman, you'd appreciate the message more." To that I reply: "Well who the hell is Rodrigo Garcia? I'm just as much a mother as he ever will be!" If I were a woman, I'd be offended by such a simple-minded screenplay, blatantly designed to manipulate my maternal instincts. In fact, the only thing Garcia has that I don't is well-connected friends -- the acclaimed directors Alfonso Cuaron, Guillermo del Toro and Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu are ALL listed in the credits.

Which leads me to comment on the film's Crash- and Babel-worthy casting:
- Jimmy Smits as a too decent to be true co-worker I have no complaints with (his platitude-spouting daughter is another story, however);
- the many African-American actors who populate the pregnant teen's world are all one-dimensional, yes, but not offensive;
- the Hispanic housekeeper/caretaker of the old woman who stays on to help the hostile daughter (Bening) against both her and her own daughter's self-interest, is purely a plot device;
- but when Elizabeth Peña pops-up in two throw-away scenes that could have been portrayed by any anonymous character actor, regardless of race, sex, creed or gender identification, this critic must say "No mas!" You really are plumbing the depths of pandering to an ethnic group when your casting Rolodex lands on Elizabeth Peña!

In fact, coming out of the theater, I tried to think of the last time I has such a miserable experience watching a film made by amateurs. Then it dawned on me: "The Lost City" (2005) directed by actor Andy Garcia. (New Rule: If your name is Garcia, you are forbidden from making a movie ... ever). That film has many things in common with this one: cardboard characters, simplistic plot, egregious miscasting (remember Bill Murray AND Dustin Hoffman?), an interminable running time, and , of course ...

ELIZABETH f*cking PEñA!!

Foreign Short Takes

May 9, 2010 --

Chloe (Canada)
Dir: Atom Egoyan

Many critics will dismiss this Canadian feature as another 'Single White Female' clone, but I was intrigued by its pedigree: a cast of Julianne Moore, Liam Neeson, and newcomer Hollywood 'It-girl', Amanda Seyfried, all directed by the artsy Atom Egoyan. And I am pleased to say there is more to this film than meets the eye, in spite of its occasional dip into cheap, 'Fatal Attraction' melodrama. Based on a French movie (these plots are always more believable when the characters are foreigners), J. Moore hires a prostitute to test her husband's fidelity. Bad move!

What makes this plot credible are the 3 fearless performances by the leads, especially Ms. Seyfried (whose only substantial acting credit has been "Mamma Mia!"). She throws herself into this role (and onto Ms. Moore in a hot lesbian sex scene).

I Don't Know About Persian Cats (Iran)
Dir: B. Ghobadi

From the director of "A Time For Drunken Horses" (notable for being the first film in the Kurdish language), this time Ghobadi takes us on a worldwind journey of the underground music scene in Tehran. (Since rock-n-roll is officially banned in Iran, it is ALL underground). The director has the unique vision to make this NOT a documentary: instead, he takes two real-life musicians and constructs a story around their attempts to put together a band an emigrate to perform a show in London. This device allows us to follow both their attempts to recruit other band members from the numerous 'garage bands' they visit -- in one case, it is a 'barn band' -- and to traverse the many hurdles Iranians face in getting a passport and a visa to emigrate.

The movie succeeds because of the sincerity of the two leads, and because the music is never less than interesting--especially the Iranian street-rapper. Each musical section is accompanied by a rough 'music video,' turning the film into a kind of Iranian version of "Once." Unfortunately, Ghobadi feels the need to tack-on a melodramatic ending that doesn't do justice to the characters or to the energetic, anti-authoritarian mood of the movie. "Save the drama for your mama!" I'd like to tell these filmmakers.

Un prophete (France)

France's entry for 2009's Best Foreign Language Film Oscar, this brutal and violent prison drama teaches us that French prisons can be just as ugly & nasty as American prisons! It follows a young, Arab, petty criminal who is drawn into the Corsican mafia in order to survive in prison, then uses his smarts to turn the tables.

He has to suffer many indignities along the way, and he triumphs by becoming the kind of criminal he never was before, but because he is an Arab, this is a triumph of assimilation, even though he assimilates into the French underworld (maybe the only strata of society he can assimilate?). The movie has a energetic visual (and visceral) flair that kept me engaged throughout, but I have to warn you that the cast (virtually all male) is one of the homeliest I've seen in a French movie.

Serial Killer movies

"I watch so you don't have to" -- Lisa DeMoraes

April 29, 2010--

"The Red Riding Trilogy"

People have criticized me for liking dark, depressing movies instead of 'heart-warming family films' (aka "The Blind Side"), so I thought I would expand my horizons by going to a feel-good, family-sounding film "The Little Red Riding Hood Trilogy." Except when I got to the Angelika theater in downtown Houston, I realized it was not a 3D, animated retelling of the popular fairy tale from the Disney conglomerate, but a 3-part BBC series based on a real life serial child-killer that terrorized Yorkshire in the 1970s and 80s! And this was on Easter Sunday! Go Figure!

Actually titled "The Red Riding Trilogy" and originally airing on BBC television, I have to say it translates well to the big screen. Not only because of the superior British acting (the scenes between Andrew Garfield and Rebecca Hall are amazing--and not just because they are having sex all the time), but because each installment has its own accomplished director, creating a subtle shift in tone and style from episode to episode Part One, which takes place in the Year of our Lord 1974, is especially authentic in capturing the mood and feel of a 1970s crime drama. Director Julian Jarrold never lets you escape from the cold, rainy, suffocating grip of his mise-en-scene. This is two hours of sheer depravity and violence -- I loved every minute of it!

I loved it not because I love depravity and violence -- I love uncompromising, exceptional filmmaking! But it was so gut-wrenching I couldn't stay for Part Two. I saw the last two installments on succeeding nights, and while interesting, they didn't reach the epic heights of Part One. The other two films (set in 1980 and 1983) continue the story of the corrupt Yorkshire Police Department and how it was finally brought down by one of its own, but they don't pack the emotional wallop of part one (nor does part 3 offer the expiation the audience is entitled to after enduring 6 hours of chasing a depraved pedophile).

So in that sense, an investment in all 3 films leaves one somewhat disappointed (not to mention exhausted). Part One stands on its own as a gut-wrenching, captivating tale of police brutality and corruption, but I defy anyone to stop after just one film.


And now for something completely different -- a serial killer in Sweden!

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
Dir: Niels Arden Oplev

The popularity of the Swedish mystery trilogy "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" (another trilogy!) has always intrigued me. According to NPR, Americans are defying U.S. law to order the UK edition of the English translation of the third (and final, due to Stieg Larsson's untimely death) installment before it is released here. After watching the film version of Part One, all I can say is: "There are a lot of sick, sick people hanging out at 'Murder By the Book' in Houston!"

Because this movie is two hours of sheer depravity and violence -- I hated it!!
Not because I hate depravity and violence -- au contraire -- I hate pointless, gratuitous depravity and violence (involving Swedes). I won't give away anything (I hope) to say the late-author piled on every sick pathology into his villains (Anti-Semitism, torture, mutilation, incest) -- he even made them Nazis! Swedish Nazis!

Subtlety was not this guy's strong suit.

But what really kills this movie is that, in apparent over-fidelity to the book, IT NEVER ENDS! The audience is forced to endure an extended denouement that is so at odds with the rest of the film, I left the theater not only repulsed but feeling cheated--as if the author sacrificed his main character so he could insert an inauthentic 'twist' to the end of his book.

And I never found out why she got that hellacious dragon tattoo!

A museum devoted to Cinema

Dateline: Berlin
(I've always wanted to write that!)

Berlin's newest architectural gem, the Sony Center at Potsdamer Platz, is home to one of the most wonderful museums I've ever visited. The Deutsche Kinematek is devoted to cinema - - German cinema specifically, from the earliest silents to 'Run Lola Run.' And if any country's cinema deserves a museum of its own, Germany takes a back-seat to no country! (France and Hollywood included).

The Sony Center (as featured in last year's "The International" with Clive Owen and Naomi Watts)






I spent a glorious two-and-a-half hours here on a recent
Saturday afternoon, and enjoyed every minute of it. The classics of German expressionism are given their own displays (Caligari, M, Mabuse, and Metropolis -- which had a special exhibit devoted to the latest, most-complete restoration, which had its premiere while I was in town).

The stars of the era are celebrated, too: silent film great Asta Nielsen (I stayed in her fashionable apartment in Berlin, converted to a homey Pension), Conrad Veidt, Emil Jannings (winner of the FIRST Oscar for best Actor). Although I was disappointed in the cursory treatment given to my personal fave, American sensation Louise Brooks. Marlene Dietrich has pride of place with an entire room devoted to her photos, costumes, love letters from famous men (and women). and luggage! (She brought alot of clothes on her visits to Hollywood).

I will let my pictures tell the rest of the story:

the lovely Louise Brooks



Fassbinder's director's chair and his two Golden Bears for "The Marriage of Maria Braun."

The first Oscar for Best Actor
(to silent star Emil Jannings for "The Last Command" and "The Way of All Flesh"). He later became a leading member of the Nazi film industry and was recently vilified (justifiably) in Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds."

My trip to the Berlinale

February 22, 2010 --

Yes, folks, I attended my first World Class Film Festival this year: the 60th Annual Berlin Film Festival. The stars were out in force, (Leo, Scorsese, Olivia Williams, Julianne Moore) but I didn't see any of them! Unless you count the Vanessa Redgrave-look-alike I spied at the Paris Bar on Kantstrasse one night. Instead, I was left to rub elbows with the great mass of public film-goers (Oh what I would have given for a Press Pass!)

The Berlinale is a massive, well-run festival. Next time, I must arrive early and wait in line for advance sale tickets (and go to the gift shop, which involves another long line). As I did neither, I only made it to three showings: two programs of shorts (one devoted to the work of Festival honoree Hanna Schygulla--she's a better actress than filmmaker--ouch!), and a new Czech film from Jan Hrebejk: "Kawasaki's Rose" -- good film, bad title.

The latter film was shown in a massive East Berlin theater, on a massive, Communist-era boulevard lined with apartment blocks. (Now Karl Marx Allee, formerly Josef Stalin Allee). Impressive, but a bee-atch to walk down when you are late for a screening! To be in a huge theater packed with film lovers was amazing. A community develops among the hard-core attendees. Unfortunately, I was unable to devote the time to cultivate any relationships (it was my first visit to Berlin... I had places to go, things to see!)

Next time (God willing), I'll know exactly what to do.

List of prize winners

Here are some of the sights I took in:

Esteemed member of the jury:

The foreignfilmguy himself!!

TOP TEN MOVIES OF 2009

February 11, 2010 --

I'm always the last critic to post my Top Ten List (there are just so many movies to see at the end of the year!!) Fortunately, the East Coast blizzard gave me the one extra day I needed to complete the list before I travel to the historic Berlin Film Festival ! (60th year). (Even so, I still haven't seen "Crazy Heart.")

To build the suspense, I first present my Saw & Enjoyed:

An Education (UK)
The Damned United (UK)
The International
Nine
Star Trek

Next, my Honorable Mention:

Antichrist
The Informant!
State of Play

Now, in ascending order:

10. The Moon
9. (500) Days of Summer
8. A Serious Man
7. Avatar
6. Me and Orson Welles
5. The Fantastic Mr. Fox
4. Precious: ...
3A. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
3. Up In The Air
2. BRIGHT STAR

and the No. 1 Movie of the Year ...

1. THE HURT LOCKER -- Good luck at the Oscars!

Best Foreign Films of the Decade

February 3, 2010 --

While I still have a few more 2009 releases to see before finishing my annual Top Ten List, that will not stop me from wrapping-up the decade just past (2000-09--I hate the phrase "the naughts") in film. For starters, here are the 15-Best Foreign Films of the Decade:


But First! I have to single out Europe for providing a steady stream of exceptional films, namely:
Germany -- The Educators, Goodye, Lenin!, A Woman in Berlin (and two movies I failed to see: Downfall, and The Baader-Meinhof Complex);
France -- A Very Long Engagement, La Vie en Rose, La Veuve de St. Pierre);
Scandinavia -- After the Wedding, Let the Right One In, Reprise, Saraband.

15. [3-way tie!] Each of these directors deserves recognition for their work this decade, so here are 3 representative samples: Amelie (FRA: Jean-Pierre Jeunet); In the Mood For Love (HK: Wong Kar-Wai); and Volver (ESP: Pedro Almodovar).

14. The Piano Teacher (2001 D: M. Haneke)
13. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ... and Spring (Korea 2003)
12. A Secret (FRA 2008)
11. The Sea Inside (ESP 2004)
10. The Lives of Others (GER 2006)
9. Caché (2005 D: M. Haneke, again)
8. The Diving Bell & the Butterfly (FRA 2007)
7. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (CHN 2001)
6. City of God (BRA 2002)
5. Y tu Mamá, también (MEX 2001)
4. To be and to have (FRA 2002) -- the only doc. to make the list, it is far more insightful than the more-recent, much-heralded "The Class"
3. Amores Perroes (MEX 2000)
2. The Best of Youth (ITA 2003)

and the #1 Foreign Film of the decade is ....


1. PAN'S LABYRINTH (MEX/ESP 2006)

Invictus

Invictus

Dir: Clint Eastwood

If Morgan Freeman gets an Oscar nomination for his stilted exercise in hagiography as Nelson Mandela, it will be a crime. He sleepwalks through this movie (which he also co-produced), delivering wise maxims rather than authentic dialogue (the screenwriter shares the blame for this). Sadly, the entire movie is as lifeless as Freeman's performance: Matt Damon does his best in a decidedly supporting role as the South African rugby team captain, but he doesn't deserve a nomination, either.

Director Eastwood is too reverent of his subject to delve into the messy reality of the first years of Mandela's presidency, so he takes the easy way out by: 1) not bothering to cast, or even refer to, the radical members of the ANC or even Mandela's troublesome wife, Winnie; and 2) depicting everyone else as so damn noble! In place of a complex depiction of race relations, we have to suffer through a microcosm of distrust and reconciliation inside the cramped office of the Black and Afrikkaaner security detail assigned to guard the President (again, not convincing), and a throw-away scene of Damon's family's long-suffering (we assume she's long-suffering, because she's not given much to say) black housekeeper, who gets a ticket to the Final, so she can enjoy the game right next to her white employers!

Where Eastwood fails most miserably is in the climactic final of the 1995 Rugby World Cup (which naturally involves South Africa's "Springboks" versus those crazy New Zealand "All-Blacks"). He obviously doesn't know much about the sport, and has no interest in edifying his audience in even the basic rules. So we are left clueless as the game action plays out -- as clueless as the extras employed to play the crowd. Compare this with the best of the three sports movies released this year (I'm referring to the British import "The Damned United"): in that movie the scenes on the British soccer pitch are as authentic as the crowd's reaction to them.

Here, Eastwood gives us endless reaction shots of 'ordinary' South Africans glued to their TVs: but this crowd of extras (black and white, natch) might as well be watching election results for all the intensity they show. Their emotions run the gamut from A to B: from uninvolved silence to wild cheering (when Eastwood gives the cinematic cues to cheer--not a second before!). It would have been so easy to overlay the action with commentary from unseen announcers, to at least give us some sense of why the referee kept pointing to the ground and stopping play. But that would have interfered with the overbearing, uplifting score -- composed by, who else?, one of Clint's kids! (another Eastwood son plays one of the Springboks --quite well, because at least the rugby players all look like athletes). The simplicity that runs throughout the rest of the movie doesn't do us (the audience), South Africa (the nation), or most-importantly the sport of rugby any service.

A movie about a director (non-musical)

Me & Orson Welles

Dir: Richard Linklater

This is a very entertaining movie! I am surprised, not because of the talent involved (Slacker-extraordinaire Linklater, the lovely Claire Danes) but because it received so little buzz. Remember when Tim Robbins directed that dreadful work about the Manhattan theater scene in the Thirties -- "Cradle Will Rock" (1999)? This movie is everything that forgettable failure wasn't: it gets the zeitgeist right! New York in the Thirties: you are immediately drawn into the exciting world of live theater when Orson Welles was an impetuous, unproven genius -- pre-Citizen Kane.

All of the real-life supporting players are there: John Housman (Eddie Marsan), Joseph Cotton (that guy from 'Men in Trees'), Norman Lloyd, and other, less well-known members of his acting troupe (Ben Chaplin, the lovely redhead Kelly Reilly). All are excellent because they are totally committed to their roles. But the movie wouldn't work if the man himself was unconvincing. Instead, Christian McKay as Orson Welles is brilliant. If he's not nominated for an Oscar, there is no justice! Oh, and Zach Ephron is the star. So why didn't this movie get more attention?

A movie about a director (musical)

January 04, 2010 --

NINE
Dir: Rob Marshall

I must set aside my sentimentality to review this movie, for -- as with "Evita" -- I had a memorable family experience traveling to New York City to see the original Broadway production of this musical, too many years ago to count (I'm asking you...don't count!). Hearing the soundtrack again brought back those memories, but I don't expect today's filmgoer (you) to be familiar with the source material at all. It is a somewhat obscure choice for Rob Marshall's follow-up his well-deserved hit "Chicago." [Might it be a last tribute to the late Anthony Minghella, who co-wrote the screenplay?]

At the outset, let me say that composer-lyricist Maury Yeston is no Kander & Ebb, certainly no Sondheim, hell, he's not even Andrew Lloyd-Webber! So the weaknesses of the original are evident in the film version: namely, a disjointed collection of varying musical styles, covering a thin plot. Marshall works his magic with the material he has: the movie's opening number is essentially the greatest Victoria's Secret fashion show ... EVER!, and he gets the most from a stellar cast, confirming his talent for turning anyone into a singing-dancing-acting 'triple-threat' (remember what he did for Richard Gere & Renee Zellweger?).

Credit to all the actresses who orbit around Daniel Day-Lewis's intense performance as Italian director "Guido Contini" (think of Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini's "8-1/2" on which this musical is based). First and foremost is the lovely French actress Marion Cotillard, playing his long-suffering wife, Luisa. Both her acting and singing are superb: she goes toe-to-toe with Day-Lewis in the dramatic scenes, and delivers a heart-breakingly beautiful solo with "My Husband Makes Movies" (the best song in the original show, and thanks to MC, the best moment in the movie).

Aside from her, all the other actresses are given supporting roles (in most cases, a couple of scenes and one song), but each makes an impression. Penelope Cruz as Carla has the most-provocatively sexual number in the show (I remember fighting with my sister over our binoculars during that number), but surprisingly, it is Black-Eyed Pea singer Fergie who steals the show (and my attention) with her turn as the voluptuous prostitute Saraghina. Marshall obviously devoted most of his time and talents to her "Be Italian" number--it's the song you will be humming as you leave. Cruz's more notorious song, "A Call From the Vatican," while energetically performed, seemed over much too quick. =(

Nicole Kidman brings her customary cool glamour to the role of Claudia, yet her part is reduced to almost nothing (she proved herself adept at muscials in Moulin Rouge--why not give her another song, at least?). I suspect Marshall was protecting his male lead, clearly not a professionally-trained singer, from having too many musical numbers. That is a shame, for as Tim Burton proved with Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd, a gifted actor doesn't have to be a great singer for his performance to work. If anyone else can pull that off, surely it must be Day-Lewis!

Kate Hudson adds much-needed youth and exuberance to this 1980s-era musical by energetically performing one of the 'new' songs. Dressed in a Sixties go-go outfit, she looks every bit the spitting image of her mother (Goldie Hawn, in case you forgot). As for her material, "Cinema Italiano," suffice to say Yeston hasn't improved much as a lyricist in the intervening 25 years (but the music is catchy).

Sadly, the odd-woman-out is the great Judi Dench (I'm not sad that she was not part of the Victoria's Secret show!). Don't get me wrong: her role in the film as Guido's confidante is vital; her musical number, however, desperately needed to be cut! On the stage, "Folies Bergere" was a highlight of the show. Here, it falls flat--partly due to her laying on a thick French accent (that inexplicably disappears when she delivers her speaking lines), but more because Marshall doesn't seem invested enough in this particular number to give it his customary visual flair (my recollection is that the whole number was filmed in medium and long shots). Considering all the other numbers he trimmed from the show, his fear of Dame Judi must have gotten the better of him.

My review reads like I watched a collection of musical numbers, which is essentially what I did. As a whole, they were very entertaining numbers, which is why this movie will end up in my "saw & enjoyed" category for 2009.

Who doesn't belong in this picture?