Never Let Me Go (dir. Mark Romanek)
None of the criticisms of this film feel off-base, except for maybe the widespread belief that the film is overscored (I'm happy to firmly plant my flag on the other side of the fence and say that Rachel Portman's score, while a little overzealous at times, is beautiful and quite complementary to the narrative). The adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's novel of the same name was, for my money, an incredibly effective and emotionally devastating film (take note of the word "devastating," a much harder and more lingering emotion to evoke than "depressing"). I was impressed up and down with this film, while recognizing its inherent flaws. The talks of over narration have been exhausted to death, but it's a fair criticism and one I agree with, particularly in the film's final moments. The film is bookended with a shot of Kathy (Carey Mulligan in a fantastic and understated turn that's more than what it seems) staring crestfallen at Tommy (Andrew Garfield). To open with the shot is unnecessary and sucks some of the emotional weight out of the final scene, though this is by no means a "spoiler" movie. Yes, there is a conceit at the core of this story that hangs over the narrative, but the film is more concerned about matters of the heart than the soft sci-fi elements. Every actor hits the right tone, particularly Keira Knightley as Ruth, who would have a shot at a supporting actress nomination had the film been better received. Andrew Garfield handles his role so deftly. The performance may seem easy--he has the actorly advantage that is his eyes, which seem determined to absolutely break your heart in this film. I can't think of anything more wrenching this year than watching Garfield's Tommy as his eyes register earth-shattering news and realities. Of his two trumpeted turns this year, I much preferred Garfield here (and for the record, I thought he was very good in The Social Network). I'm going to talk lastly about the film's awards prospects, which many people seem to believe are nonexistent at this point. They could be (read: probably are) correct. However, I'm not sure it's over. If I'm recalling correctly, Babel came out of its earliest festivals with similarly split response. The Reader was not without its very loud, vocal detractors who cried foul at its inclusion in the best picture roster, most likely at the expense of The Dark Knight. Never Let Me Go is not this year's The Lovely Bones--a rather easy and frankly lazy comparison I've heard more than once. Firstly, it's not based on source material whose literary merit was constantly in question, even before the release of the film. Never Let Me Go is prestige and (if you ask me) prestige done very well. There are people who are sticking by it. Roger Ebert's beautifully written rave review underline a possible generational divide. Could the older members of the Academy respond to this film in a way that could surprise? I'm not trying to break a story and I could be wrong, but again, I'm not sure that it's over for Never Let Me Go and for that I'm thrilled.
Grade: B+ (A-? I really feel like it's going to end up being the latter...I literally have thought about this film in some capacity every day since I've seen it)
The Town (dir. Ben Affleck)
In a completely schizophrenic moviegoing experience, I viewed The Town mere minutes within viewing Never Let Me Go. I should probably revisit it at some point, but right now it's being judged rather unfairly. It's a very well-crafted piece of work that marries commercial and artistic sensibilities very well. It's not a great leap forward stylistically from Affleck's freshman effort Gone Baby Gone, which has something new to behold upon each subsequent viewing and ranks among my favorite films of the 2000s. However, while I can think of about a dozen moments from Never Let Me Go that are burned into my memory, I'm finding it hard to latch on to any singular moments in The Town. It's impressive, but definitely a fast fade. Ben Affleck turns in a fine performance, though I've never subscribed to the belief that he's a terrible actor, despite the terrible projects that often seem to find him. He's fine, but ultimately a bit miscast and I wonder if sideman Jeremy Renner wouldn't have been a more interesting choice for the lead. Blake Lively...what can I say? Full disclosure: she was one of the driving influences behind my desire to see this film. It was probably one part morbid curiosity (who doesn't enjoy a hot ghetto mess of a performance?) and one part optimistic curiosity (can she carve out another Amy Ryan, scene-stealing characterization of a female Bostonian ne'er do well?) The result was kind of neither. Lively is not in the film nearly enough to make a real impression, and when she's on screen she kind of seems in over her head and really out of place with everything that's going on. Ditto, I'm sorry to say, for Jon Hamm, who's not nearly as hair-raisingly atonal as Lively, yet manages to radiate a certain air of standard-issue--not a good fit for such a prominent role in a major motion picture. Like I said, I appreciated it very much when I was watching it and Ben Affleck is mostly in very deft control as a director. I'm curious to see what he does next, especially if he moves away from the gritty white Boston crime milieu. But "forgettable" definitely is a word that comes to mind after some distance.
Grade: B
Dogtooth (dir. Yorgos Lanthimos)
One of two films I've seen this year that's truly unlike anything I've ever experienced, cinematically (Enter the Void also shares that distinction, though I've yet to wholly decide if it's to that film's credit or detriment). Greek director Lanthimos paints a horrifying, bare bones and often sickly humorous portrayal of a patriarch who keeps his three adult children (two daughters and a son, all non-actors), under strict lock and key. They never leave the large grounds of their house, which includes a pool and a tennis court, but is still confining and stifling. The children are completely arrested. They speak with a very basic intelligence that would, at first glance, betray how truly warped they are. But the first glimpses are startling. They have been taught the wrong words for things (they are told the word "pussy" means a "big light," which...not so much). An employee of the father is brought to the house blindfolded, presumably for money, so that she can fulfill the simple biological function of servicing the son's burgeoning sexual needs. That is all the plot that one needs (this is not a "plot" piece of cinema, at least not in the traditional sense). I likened it very much to Passolini's Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, with the notable exception being that it widely strips away any artifice. Dogtooth presents more of a blank, unintellectualized portrayal of sadism, rather than a heavy-handed comment on sadism, to its credit. The most arresting scene in the film is not a violent one. It involves a dance performed by the daughters for their parents anniversary party. It's so interesting to watch the audience reaction to this moment--it's met with shocked silence, followed by uproarious laughter, and then more shocked silence. That is the film's lure. And love it or hate it, it's definitely one that stays with you long after the last frame.
Grade: A-
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
2010 in Film (part 2)
Winter's Bone (dir. Debra Granik)
The critical narrative tethered to this title in its initial release had me entering fully prepared for a Frozen River or even an An Education experience. That is, a story containing an exceptional, star-making female lead performance practically crying out for a film deserving of such actorly talent. What I got was an engrossing, arresting movie-going experience that completely blindsided me. I can't really put my finger on all of the elements that I look for in a film I'm going to recommend. It's a personal and often nebulous thing, trying to saliently communicate one's cinematic sensibilities. I can say (don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this) that I have never enjoyed a film that felt dishonest. Winter's Bone is so lived-in and observant in terms of the world it occupies, and I'm not just talking about the Ozark mountain setting, about which I admittedly know little. I'm talking about the lives of these characters, which is established very clearly in the beginning, with every word uttered and every action taken speaking to that in a compelling way. Not to call Frozen River dishonest, but there was this lingering air of "let's evoke audience guilt" that hung heavy. Winter's Bone is stark and frank in a completely organic way. Much praise and ballyhoo has been heaped upon Jennifer Lawrence and (to a lesser extent) Dale Dickey, both turning in fabulous turns worthy of high accolade. The entire cast is in top form, as are the sound department (so atmospheric, yet not showily so), and Debra Granik's sure directorial hand. People seem to be cooling considerably, not on their reaction to the film, but about its award prospects (not to imply that a great film isn't its own reward, regardless of awards citation). I could be wrong, but I think the critics will take care of Winter's Bone come year's end. Look for Jennifer Lawrence to get a best actress nomination. Her name will be on the lips, (who is she even competing with for breakthrough citations at this point?). I wouldn't be surprised, especially in a field of ten, if Winter's Bone lands on the best picture list, though obviously it's not a slam dunk.
Grade: A
I Am Love (dir. Luca Guadagnino)
Here is a film about which my initial effusiveness is cooling. I enjoyed it slightly less on a second viewing, though Tilda Swinton's work is still searing, convincing, peculiar and specific (as always). It's almost epic in its scale and splendor. However, a scene can be largely without dialogue and still overstate many of its greater ideas. It's very easy to get swept up in I Am Love that one almost overlooks how many of the visual cues verge on the obtuse--for instance, the first time Emma (Swinton) tastes food made by Antonio (Edoardo Gabbriellini). This is not to say that it's not a lovely and in many ways accomplished film. It's very evocative, mostly when it's not trying so hard to be. The overwrought conclusion and the even more overwrought score (seriously, people are praising this score, but calling Never Let Me Go overscored? Both composers are a little wand-happy, but the latter, considerably less so...) keep this film from an A.
Grade: B+
The Kids Are All Right (dir. Lisa Cholodenko)
The ingredients for a great film (rather than the quite good, if far too tentative and easy result) are present. Great cast? Check. Annette Bening and Julianne Moore seem perfectly in their element here, as does Mark Ruffalo. The kids are great too. Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson are the unsung assets to The Kids Are All Right, gifting the film with aching, believable uncertainty and mortification at the behavior of the "adults" in their lives. Humor? Check. I laughed. I laughed quite a lot, actually. So, why does it seem like I like The Kids Are All Right slightly less than everyone seems to love it? Firstly, it's clear that screenwriters Cholodenko and Stuart Bloomberg love each of the characters they've created. That's evidenced by their need to protect them and their inability to put them into situations where they are required to make hard choices. Annette Bening navigates around the film's pussy-footing nature with aplomb. She will eke out a full-realized characterization and performance, even if it's not necessarily given to her on the page. Julianne Moore is given quieter notes to play, as is Ruffalo. Great performances often seem effortless and no one is phoning it in here. I'm always glad to see Moore breaking away from her impressive, yet morose "woman on the verge..." thesp-ing that often pigeonholes her and prevents her true versatility from shining through. However, the film's wispy keeps it from rising to true greatness or even memorability. Here is a story crying out for just a bit more shading, complexity and hardness than what is given.
Grade: B
Prodigal Sons (dir. Kimberly Reed)
Proof that I need to make more of a concerted effort to watch documentaries, and not just those that manage to creep into the larger consciousness, some based on merit and others based on accessible and timely (read: facile) subject matter. An aside: I've yet to watch Waiting for Superman, so I can't comment. However, the trailer, combined with reactions from those I trust, as well as Guggenheim's previous documentary (An Inconvenient Truth), which smugly masqueraded common knowledge as incendiary samizdat which "the man" doesn't want you to know about all have my expectations cold as ice (rant over). Prodigal Sons, a documentary about director Kimberly Reed's return to Montana for a high school reunion marries the piercing emotionality of Tarnation with the polished, formal elements of Steve James or even Errol Morris. It's a wonderful combination. We watch as she attempts to reconcile her relationship with her very troubled adopted brother Marc. I almost want to hold my feelings about this film close to my chest, as its such an arresting experience to watch the story unfold before you and become something completely different than what is promised, yet no less satisfying. It's strange...I tend to be repelled, at least on principle, by the prospect of personal documentaries. And yet, when done well, they are the most affecting.
Grade: A-
Machete (dir. Robert Rodriguez)
Whether being viewed simply as an exercise in B-movie cinematic excess, or as a mindless action film (or both), Machete fails to turn either trope on its head in a way that is memorable or interesting.
Grade: C+
The critical narrative tethered to this title in its initial release had me entering fully prepared for a Frozen River or even an An Education experience. That is, a story containing an exceptional, star-making female lead performance practically crying out for a film deserving of such actorly talent. What I got was an engrossing, arresting movie-going experience that completely blindsided me. I can't really put my finger on all of the elements that I look for in a film I'm going to recommend. It's a personal and often nebulous thing, trying to saliently communicate one's cinematic sensibilities. I can say (don't worry, I'm going somewhere with this) that I have never enjoyed a film that felt dishonest. Winter's Bone is so lived-in and observant in terms of the world it occupies, and I'm not just talking about the Ozark mountain setting, about which I admittedly know little. I'm talking about the lives of these characters, which is established very clearly in the beginning, with every word uttered and every action taken speaking to that in a compelling way. Not to call Frozen River dishonest, but there was this lingering air of "let's evoke audience guilt" that hung heavy. Winter's Bone is stark and frank in a completely organic way. Much praise and ballyhoo has been heaped upon Jennifer Lawrence and (to a lesser extent) Dale Dickey, both turning in fabulous turns worthy of high accolade. The entire cast is in top form, as are the sound department (so atmospheric, yet not showily so), and Debra Granik's sure directorial hand. People seem to be cooling considerably, not on their reaction to the film, but about its award prospects (not to imply that a great film isn't its own reward, regardless of awards citation). I could be wrong, but I think the critics will take care of Winter's Bone come year's end. Look for Jennifer Lawrence to get a best actress nomination. Her name will be on the lips, (who is she even competing with for breakthrough citations at this point?). I wouldn't be surprised, especially in a field of ten, if Winter's Bone lands on the best picture list, though obviously it's not a slam dunk.
Grade: A
I Am Love (dir. Luca Guadagnino)
Here is a film about which my initial effusiveness is cooling. I enjoyed it slightly less on a second viewing, though Tilda Swinton's work is still searing, convincing, peculiar and specific (as always). It's almost epic in its scale and splendor. However, a scene can be largely without dialogue and still overstate many of its greater ideas. It's very easy to get swept up in I Am Love that one almost overlooks how many of the visual cues verge on the obtuse--for instance, the first time Emma (Swinton) tastes food made by Antonio (Edoardo Gabbriellini). This is not to say that it's not a lovely and in many ways accomplished film. It's very evocative, mostly when it's not trying so hard to be. The overwrought conclusion and the even more overwrought score (seriously, people are praising this score, but calling Never Let Me Go overscored? Both composers are a little wand-happy, but the latter, considerably less so...) keep this film from an A.
Grade: B+
The Kids Are All Right (dir. Lisa Cholodenko)
The ingredients for a great film (rather than the quite good, if far too tentative and easy result) are present. Great cast? Check. Annette Bening and Julianne Moore seem perfectly in their element here, as does Mark Ruffalo. The kids are great too. Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson are the unsung assets to The Kids Are All Right, gifting the film with aching, believable uncertainty and mortification at the behavior of the "adults" in their lives. Humor? Check. I laughed. I laughed quite a lot, actually. So, why does it seem like I like The Kids Are All Right slightly less than everyone seems to love it? Firstly, it's clear that screenwriters Cholodenko and Stuart Bloomberg love each of the characters they've created. That's evidenced by their need to protect them and their inability to put them into situations where they are required to make hard choices. Annette Bening navigates around the film's pussy-footing nature with aplomb. She will eke out a full-realized characterization and performance, even if it's not necessarily given to her on the page. Julianne Moore is given quieter notes to play, as is Ruffalo. Great performances often seem effortless and no one is phoning it in here. I'm always glad to see Moore breaking away from her impressive, yet morose "woman on the verge..." thesp-ing that often pigeonholes her and prevents her true versatility from shining through. However, the film's wispy keeps it from rising to true greatness or even memorability. Here is a story crying out for just a bit more shading, complexity and hardness than what is given.
Grade: B
Prodigal Sons (dir. Kimberly Reed)
Proof that I need to make more of a concerted effort to watch documentaries, and not just those that manage to creep into the larger consciousness, some based on merit and others based on accessible and timely (read: facile) subject matter. An aside: I've yet to watch Waiting for Superman, so I can't comment. However, the trailer, combined with reactions from those I trust, as well as Guggenheim's previous documentary (An Inconvenient Truth), which smugly masqueraded common knowledge as incendiary samizdat which "the man" doesn't want you to know about all have my expectations cold as ice (rant over). Prodigal Sons, a documentary about director Kimberly Reed's return to Montana for a high school reunion marries the piercing emotionality of Tarnation with the polished, formal elements of Steve James or even Errol Morris. It's a wonderful combination. We watch as she attempts to reconcile her relationship with her very troubled adopted brother Marc. I almost want to hold my feelings about this film close to my chest, as its such an arresting experience to watch the story unfold before you and become something completely different than what is promised, yet no less satisfying. It's strange...I tend to be repelled, at least on principle, by the prospect of personal documentaries. And yet, when done well, they are the most affecting.
Grade: A-
Machete (dir. Robert Rodriguez)
Whether being viewed simply as an exercise in B-movie cinematic excess, or as a mindless action film (or both), Machete fails to turn either trope on its head in a way that is memorable or interesting.
Grade: C+
Friday, September 24, 2010
2010 in film...so far (Part 1)
I will be seeing Animal Kingdom sometime this weekend, along with Catfish. Looking at the sidebar of 2010 releases which I have viewed and graded, it might seem that I'm a little behind the 8-ball. And yet...I don't see it that way. Yes, I'm aware that there are still many films I need to see from the former part of they year. But looking at the films that popular sentiment seems to be telling me that I "missed," I feel no great need to rush out and see them. Nick Davis over at Nick's Flick Picks described it perfectly in a recent article where he described his grading system. He gives a letter grade, then a VOR (Values, Originality, and Risk) rating from 1-5. Brilliant. This is exactly why I'm not particularly compelled to rush out and see Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Based on secondhand reports and my reaction to the trailers, I'm sure that it's a film I'm going to at the very least enjoy on the most basic level, no matter how underwhelmed I am. Why the hesitation? Well, what is a movie like Scott Pilgrim, How to Train Your Dragon or even Toy Story 3 really going to tell me about the current cinematic landscape that I don't already know? Michael Cera seems frozen in time with his shtick? Non-Pixar animated releases can still rake 'em in? Pixar's the cornerstone of animated cinema? These respective nuggets are not enough to make me rush out to see these films in theater, rather than waiting to catch them on DVD, even if I am sure to like the films. It may sound pompous or pretentious, but with my limited time, I need a little something more.
Date Night (dir. Shawn Levy)
Often funny, but memorably so. I'm flirting with the idea of being done with Steve Carrell and this film certainly didn't help matters much. Tina Fey is delightful, as always, and I was immediately led to think about how much I'd really love to see her in a better movie. Now that Sandra Bullock is no longer attached to The Abstinence Teacher...maybe Fey? It's been so long since I've seen this film and there are singular elements that stick out in my memory. I do specifically remember thinking Date Night was overlong, which is not exactly to the credit of a film with an 87 minute running time. I also remember being baffled both by Taraji P. Henson's suggestion of a character/performance/purpose and her Veronica Cartwright circa Alien haircut. Completely missable.
Grade at the time of viewing: B-
Now downgraded to a C+
The Greatest (dir. Shana Feste)
One of the most odious movie-watching experiences in recent memory, which is kind of shocking, given the film's tentative nature and modest goals. It features Pierce Brosnan and Susan Sarandon as bereaved parents and Carey Mulligan as the young woman their son knocked up the night he died. These three actors turn in uneven, yet not completely disastrous turns that clearly suffered from a nebulous direction and an even murkier script. The rest of the cast, particularly Johnny Simmons who plays the left-behind younger brother, is less capable. Zoe Kravitz is also featured and is limited, certainly, but the least of this film's problems. (I'll talk more about her when I'm talking about It's Kind of a Funny Story). Narrative storytelling has to allow for suspension of disbelief and most audiences accept that. But there are plot contrivances in this film so glaring, so nonsensical, so completely asinine that even the most casual, twice-a-year movie watcher (the kind who thought that Saw was clever and Crash was poignant) would scoff that neither a parse of the script nor a snip in post-production prohibited these flubs from worming their way into the final cut. It's simply grief-porn--cinematic suffering for its own sake without a shred of emotional motivation or honesty.
Grade: C-/D+
Mother and Child (dir. Rodrigo Garcia)
Flawed, but poignant piece of moviemaking. It is a broken ensemble piece that examines adoption and its effect on three different women. It's experiencing somewhat of a fade in my memory, but I remember being moved by its very believable character specificity that's not merely paint-by-numbers quirk. The three stars are all very much within their element here and doing excellent work, particularly Annette Bening and Kerry Washington (Naomi Watts suffers from an unknowable and inconsistent character whose real emotions Garcia seems reluctant to mine).
Grade:B
Iron Man 2 (dir. Jon Favreau)
I think I was in a bad mood the day I saw this movie. Favreau brought it to my school and even did a lecture afterwards. Perhaps it was my disposition, but after watching Iron Man 2, I slipped out of the auditorium quietly before Favreau arrived on stage. I have still yet to see Iron Man (should I?), so maybe I'm not the target audience for this film. I just felt myself underwhelmed, deflated, verging on annoyance at the film's smug, smarmy tone (and I do actually enjoy Robert Downey Jr. quite a bit). No, my impatience was not with Downey, but more with Favreau--his presence in his own film, which particularly self-indulgent in this case. I'm sure Favreau is a perfectly nice guy, but when I look at his directorial filmography (Elf, Zathura and the Iron Man films, to name a few) I can't abide nor can I justify sitting down for a couple of hours and listening to him speak.
Grade: C+
More reviews to come...
Date Night (dir. Shawn Levy)
Often funny, but memorably so. I'm flirting with the idea of being done with Steve Carrell and this film certainly didn't help matters much. Tina Fey is delightful, as always, and I was immediately led to think about how much I'd really love to see her in a better movie. Now that Sandra Bullock is no longer attached to The Abstinence Teacher...maybe Fey? It's been so long since I've seen this film and there are singular elements that stick out in my memory. I do specifically remember thinking Date Night was overlong, which is not exactly to the credit of a film with an 87 minute running time. I also remember being baffled both by Taraji P. Henson's suggestion of a character/performance/purpose and her Veronica Cartwright circa Alien haircut. Completely missable.
Grade at the time of viewing: B-
Now downgraded to a C+
The Greatest (dir. Shana Feste)
One of the most odious movie-watching experiences in recent memory, which is kind of shocking, given the film's tentative nature and modest goals. It features Pierce Brosnan and Susan Sarandon as bereaved parents and Carey Mulligan as the young woman their son knocked up the night he died. These three actors turn in uneven, yet not completely disastrous turns that clearly suffered from a nebulous direction and an even murkier script. The rest of the cast, particularly Johnny Simmons who plays the left-behind younger brother, is less capable. Zoe Kravitz is also featured and is limited, certainly, but the least of this film's problems. (I'll talk more about her when I'm talking about It's Kind of a Funny Story). Narrative storytelling has to allow for suspension of disbelief and most audiences accept that. But there are plot contrivances in this film so glaring, so nonsensical, so completely asinine that even the most casual, twice-a-year movie watcher (the kind who thought that Saw was clever and Crash was poignant) would scoff that neither a parse of the script nor a snip in post-production prohibited these flubs from worming their way into the final cut. It's simply grief-porn--cinematic suffering for its own sake without a shred of emotional motivation or honesty.
Grade: C-/D+
Mother and Child (dir. Rodrigo Garcia)
Flawed, but poignant piece of moviemaking. It is a broken ensemble piece that examines adoption and its effect on three different women. It's experiencing somewhat of a fade in my memory, but I remember being moved by its very believable character specificity that's not merely paint-by-numbers quirk. The three stars are all very much within their element here and doing excellent work, particularly Annette Bening and Kerry Washington (Naomi Watts suffers from an unknowable and inconsistent character whose real emotions Garcia seems reluctant to mine).
Grade:B
Iron Man 2 (dir. Jon Favreau)
I think I was in a bad mood the day I saw this movie. Favreau brought it to my school and even did a lecture afterwards. Perhaps it was my disposition, but after watching Iron Man 2, I slipped out of the auditorium quietly before Favreau arrived on stage. I have still yet to see Iron Man (should I?), so maybe I'm not the target audience for this film. I just felt myself underwhelmed, deflated, verging on annoyance at the film's smug, smarmy tone (and I do actually enjoy Robert Downey Jr. quite a bit). No, my impatience was not with Downey, but more with Favreau--his presence in his own film, which particularly self-indulgent in this case. I'm sure Favreau is a perfectly nice guy, but when I look at his directorial filmography (Elf, Zathura and the Iron Man films, to name a few) I can't abide nor can I justify sitting down for a couple of hours and listening to him speak.
Grade: C+
More reviews to come...
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The Big Pretentious Movie Summer -- Update
So, an impromptu interruption (nearly two months worth) in my blogging. But, alas, it is not without reason. Without getting too personal, living in a residence for the past month and a half without a reliable internet connection threw a bit of a wrench into the Big Pretentious Movie summer. However, I'm in swanky new accommodations, with new internet service and a brand new school year in which the AFI library is open week round with decent hours. But, I cannot make up for the time I lost. Thus, I am extending my deadline to watch the remaining films on my list until November (or whenever I finish). The project has been renamed The Big Pretentious Movie Project (as it has extended past its initial summer projections). I've decided to take the pressure off...watching films has never been a chore for me and I've discovered many great films this in this wonderful process that I somehow missed or had forgotten over the years. I'm picking things up this week again by diving headlong into the Coen Brothers, starting with Blood Simple. I cannot wait.
Other programming notes: As promised, I will be listing my 100 favorite films of the 2000s sometime before year's end. No, this isn't me being a year behind the trend. I purposely waited until well into 2010 to make this list because I don't want to leave any gems from 2009 off said list and these things sometimes need a couple of months to marinate. It is an eclectic list of films on the list, ranging from big blockbusters, to mainstream hits to more obscure fare and in true Pretentious Know it All fashion, the film at the top of my list is one that will likely garner scoffs, head scratches and eye rolls. However, I'm a firm believer in honesty when compiling my "best-of" lists and no film resonated more than this one (ah, the suspense).
Happy to be back at it.
Other programming notes: As promised, I will be listing my 100 favorite films of the 2000s sometime before year's end. No, this isn't me being a year behind the trend. I purposely waited until well into 2010 to make this list because I don't want to leave any gems from 2009 off said list and these things sometimes need a couple of months to marinate. It is an eclectic list of films on the list, ranging from big blockbusters, to mainstream hits to more obscure fare and in true Pretentious Know it All fashion, the film at the top of my list is one that will likely garner scoffs, head scratches and eye rolls. However, I'm a firm believer in honesty when compiling my "best-of" lists and no film resonated more than this one (ah, the suspense).
Happy to be back at it.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
What's to Come
Leaving Las Vegas - Mike Figgis (1995)*
Autumn Sonata - Ingmar Bergman (1978)
Before Sunrise - Richard Linklater (1995)*
Before Sunset - Richard Linklater (2004)
Birth - Jonathan Glazer (2004)+
Trouble the Water - Tia Lessin and Carl Deal (2008/2009)
The Class - Laurent Cantet (2008)
Toy Story 2 - John Lasseter (1999)
Blade Runner - Ridley Scott (1982)
Morvern Callar - Lynne Ramsay (2002)*
You Can Count on Me - Kenneth Lonergan (2000)
*Films I've already viewed, though they haven't been added to the official list.
+Films I need to re-watch
I've also omitted some films from the list, some for complicated reasons, others for logistical reasons, all of which will be viewed at some point. They are:
Life is Sweet - Mike Leigh (1993)*
Topsy Turvy - Mike Leigh (1999)*
Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice - Paul Mazursky
The Last Detail - Hal Ashby (1973)
Deconstructing Harry - Woody Allen (1997)
Dangerous Liaisons - Stephen Frears (1988)
American Graffiti - George Lucas (1973)+
The Mission - Roland Joffé (1986)
Harvey - Henry Koster (1951)
Wonder Boys - Curtis Hanson (2000)
*I need to find copies of these films somewhere. I still have yet to find a copy of Safe - Todd Haynes (1995), but I think I'll purchase that one.
+One of the whitest people I've ever met with very middlebrow tastes in film and culture in general described this movie as "Kind of overly-nostalgic, dated and a bit too cute." I'll watch it someday, but the clock is ticking and that comment took my already tepid expectations and submerged them in a liquid nitrogen tank.
So, with the new total (adding 11, subtracting 10), that means the total is 156, rather than 155.
Also, towards the end of the year, sometime before the Third Annual Pretentious Movie Awards, I'll be completing my list of best 100 favorite films of the 2000s. I know it was the in-vogue thing to do it last year, when the aughts actually ended, but doing it at the end of 2010 has its advantages. Firstly, I have enough distance from 2009 that I know which films from that list will be in the best of the decade. I will also be doing a list of the top 20 performances in the four acting categories (leading/supporting for male and female) as well as my top five directors of the decade and (just because I can't avoid schaudenfraude) the top 10 overrated films of the decade.
Peace, Love and Pretension.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
A Few Thoughts on Inception
I interrupt the regular scheduled programming to give you a few brief thoughts about Inception, because it seems like this week, the world isn't allowed to talk about anything else.
First of all, I liked it, as I have most of Christopher Nolan's films. But I liked it with huge reservation. For better or for worse, I enter a film through the acting and the writing (in that order). The fact that more than half of the cast can boast the title "Academy Award nominee" and more than half of those people are actually deserving of the honor, there's no reason to expect phoned-in thesp-ing. And for the most part, the acting here is quite serviceable, with a few notable exceptions.
Any accusations of thin performances are not solely the fault of the actors here, who do what they can to compensate for the fact that they are not playing characters, but rather ideas "projections of Christopher Nolan's subconscious," if you will. For a film that is all about the subconscious and levels thereof, it certainly states its ideas rather obtusely, and repeatedly.
This is especially true of the two women, one of whom (Marion Cotillard's "Mal") actually is a projection of the subconscious. Christopher Nolan has demonstrated that he cannot write female characters, from Natalie, Rachel Dawes, Olivia Wenscombe, to now Mal and Ariadne (Ellen Page). I know that Nolan's fanbase skews male, so I'll tread lightly here because they seem to think he's a great writer, director, producer, singer, dancer, impressionist painter, et. al. Actually, I won't tread lightly. A great writer is a keen observer of the world in which they live. Women are kind of everywhere. Why then the
thin, flimsy characterizations? I love the choices that some of his actresses make, certainly. Carrie-Ann Moss, especially. The fact that Maggie Gyllenhaal improved tenfold upon Katie Holmes's Rachel Dawes while still sleepwalking (sorry, Maggie. I love you, but let's not rewrite history) through The Dark Knight is a testament to his ability to at least cast capable actresses. I'm sure you have it in you, Nolan. Ellen Page's Ariadne could have been replaced by some kind of talking computer and it wouldn't have made a difference. Her character is given no backstory, no motivation, no frame of reference, which would be fine if she weren't risking her mental dexterity through dream espionage (call me old fashioned, but I'd kind of like to know why).
Visually, I've heard a lot of arguments that the dreams in this film are not "dreamlike" enough. Joe Reid over at Low Resolution beat me to the punch by pointing out that the dreams in Inception are specifically designed by architects. Of the problems in this film (and there are several), wanting for a believable dreamscape was not one of them. A lot of the dream sequences were pretty damn breathtaking, actually. For the record, I found the falling van to be an incredible plot device. The film is not perfect, but let's give credit where its due, shall we? I (for the record) hate The Matrix with ever fiber of my being, but you can never say that movie lacks for...um...luridness.
Here's the bottom line (and feel free to disagree), but the people who are calling Inception a masterpiece AND the people calling it an utter disaster are two sides of the same coin. They're both wrong. They both need to get a grip. And they both (for the most part) are guilty of steeling themselves prior to viewing the film for how incredible or shitty they thought it was going to be. We can't pretend that we're immune to hype and advertising when it comes to new releases. Inception was already in the IMDb top 250 of all time before it even officially came out (sidebar: at any given time, the IMDb top 250 list looks like it was mostly devised by an afternoon tribunal featuring a five-year-old boy, a thirteen-year-old boy, an Octogenarian of any gender, Mel Gibson and one graduate film student with crowd anxiety). We can't pretend that hearing those kind of effusive reviews weren't tipping people in one direction or the other, whether they're susceptible to group think or contrarianism for its own sake (another form of group think). The Dark Knight was too fresh in people's memory as either an overblown fanboy annoyance, or the second coming for the reaction to Nolan's latest flick to be pure (if there is ever a pure reaction to any film). That's why I found so heartening about the reaction to a movie like Avatar. Love it or hate it (I liked it a whole lot), but you had people from all levels of tiers of film criticism (from the lowbrow to middle to high) having varied reactions to the film. You never got a sense from the Avatar fans that it wasn't okay to disagree, whereas the Inception fans are ready to make virginal sacrifices to Christopher Nolan.
Despite all of my misgivings, I did enjoy Inception. Hey, if you were in LA or New York that week, I would have recommended seeing The Kids Are All Right instead (another imperfect film, but a more satisfying one), but there are worse ways to wile away the summer hours. And before all the talk of "overrated, doesn't deserve it, blah blah blah" begins, I'm going to say now that I'm for Inception's best picture nomination, which everyone seems to think is inevitable (I have my doubts). I'm for it for several reasons. Firstly, it's a solid B-, which means it will almost assuredly not appear on my personal year-end top ten list. But that same grade also means that it will likely be preferable to at least 20% of the viable contenders gunning for a spot on the ten-wide list. Also, it can't hurt the Academy to expand its mind a little. The more years we have in a row where the best picture list embraces films like Avatar, District 9 and Inception (n
one of which are films I passionately love), the more likely it is that they'll continue to be adventurous when the rules revert the best picture list back to five nominees. Lastly, I want Inception to get nominated for best picture because I can remember the grousing and griping that went on when The Dark Knight got overlooked and...I just don't want to have to listen to it again.
Grade: B-
First of all, I liked it, as I have most of Christopher Nolan's films. But I liked it with huge reservation. For better or for worse, I enter a film through the acting and the writing (in that order). The fact that more than half of the cast can boast the title "Academy Award nominee" and more than half of those people are actually deserving of the honor, there's no reason to expect phoned-in thesp-ing. And for the most part, the acting here is quite serviceable, with a few notable exceptions.
Any accusations of thin performances are not solely the fault of the actors here, who do what they can to compensate for the fact that they are not playing characters, but rather ideas "projections of Christopher Nolan's subconscious," if you will. For a film that is all about the subconscious and levels thereof, it certainly states its ideas rather obtusely, and repeatedly.
This is especially true of the two women, one of whom (Marion Cotillard's "Mal") actually is a projection of the subconscious. Christopher Nolan has demonstrated that he cannot write female characters, from Natalie, Rachel Dawes, Olivia Wenscombe, to now Mal and Ariadne (Ellen Page). I know that Nolan's fanbase skews male, so I'll tread lightly here because they seem to think he's a great writer, director, producer, singer, dancer, impressionist painter, et. al. Actually, I won't tread lightly. A great writer is a keen observer of the world in which they live. Women are kind of everywhere. Why then the
thin, flimsy characterizations? I love the choices that some of his actresses make, certainly. Carrie-Ann Moss, especially. The fact that Maggie Gyllenhaal improved tenfold upon Katie Holmes's Rachel Dawes while still sleepwalking (sorry, Maggie. I love you, but let's not rewrite history) through The Dark Knight is a testament to his ability to at least cast capable actresses. I'm sure you have it in you, Nolan. Ellen Page's Ariadne could have been replaced by some kind of talking computer and it wouldn't have made a difference. Her character is given no backstory, no motivation, no frame of reference, which would be fine if she weren't risking her mental dexterity through dream espionage (call me old fashioned, but I'd kind of like to know why).Visually, I've heard a lot of arguments that the dreams in this film are not "dreamlike" enough. Joe Reid over at Low Resolution beat me to the punch by pointing out that the dreams in Inception are specifically designed by architects. Of the problems in this film (and there are several), wanting for a believable dreamscape was not one of them. A lot of the dream sequences were pretty damn breathtaking, actually. For the record, I found the falling van to be an incredible plot device. The film is not perfect, but let's give credit where its due, shall we? I (for the record) hate The Matrix with ever fiber of my being, but you can never say that movie lacks for...um...luridness.
Here's the bottom line (and feel free to disagree), but the people who are calling Inception a masterpiece AND the people calling it an utter disaster are two sides of the same coin. They're both wrong. They both need to get a grip. And they both (for the most part) are guilty of steeling themselves prior to viewing the film for how incredible or shitty they thought it was going to be. We can't pretend that we're immune to hype and advertising when it comes to new releases. Inception was already in the IMDb top 250 of all time before it even officially came out (sidebar: at any given time, the IMDb top 250 list looks like it was mostly devised by an afternoon tribunal featuring a five-year-old boy, a thirteen-year-old boy, an Octogenarian of any gender, Mel Gibson and one graduate film student with crowd anxiety). We can't pretend that hearing those kind of effusive reviews weren't tipping people in one direction or the other, whether they're susceptible to group think or contrarianism for its own sake (another form of group think). The Dark Knight was too fresh in people's memory as either an overblown fanboy annoyance, or the second coming for the reaction to Nolan's latest flick to be pure (if there is ever a pure reaction to any film). That's why I found so heartening about the reaction to a movie like Avatar. Love it or hate it (I liked it a whole lot), but you had people from all levels of tiers of film criticism (from the lowbrow to middle to high) having varied reactions to the film. You never got a sense from the Avatar fans that it wasn't okay to disagree, whereas the Inception fans are ready to make virginal sacrifices to Christopher Nolan.
Despite all of my misgivings, I did enjoy Inception. Hey, if you were in LA or New York that week, I would have recommended seeing The Kids Are All Right instead (another imperfect film, but a more satisfying one), but there are worse ways to wile away the summer hours. And before all the talk of "overrated, doesn't deserve it, blah blah blah" begins, I'm going to say now that I'm for Inception's best picture nomination, which everyone seems to think is inevitable (I have my doubts). I'm for it for several reasons. Firstly, it's a solid B-, which means it will almost assuredly not appear on my personal year-end top ten list. But that same grade also means that it will likely be preferable to at least 20% of the viable contenders gunning for a spot on the ten-wide list. Also, it can't hurt the Academy to expand its mind a little. The more years we have in a row where the best picture list embraces films like Avatar, District 9 and Inception (n
one of which are films I passionately love), the more likely it is that they'll continue to be adventurous when the rules revert the best picture list back to five nominees. Lastly, I want Inception to get nominated for best picture because I can remember the grousing and griping that went on when The Dark Knight got overlooked and...I just don't want to have to listen to it again.Grade: B-
The Big Pretentious Movie Summer (31-35)
The Aviator dir. Martin Scorsese (2004)
A fine film, entertaining, epic in scope and enthralling. Its technical splendor and immersion into period make it hard to attack any of the formal mechanics. It's spectacularly well-made, though it is difficult to get really passionate about it six years after my initial viewing. I'm really glad that Martin Scorsese didn't win his long awaited Oscar for this film, and not only because Million Dollar Baby is a superb and superior film that has aged surprisingly well (know that getting me to admit this about a Clint Eastwood movie is no easy feat). It doesn't feel like a Scorsese film, and I'm not just saying that simply because of the generic departure (The Age of Innocence is certainly an anomaly for Scorsese on paper, but I could still see him in it very much). The Aviator lacks a certain intimacy and character familiarity that have come to be the hallmark of even Scorsese's grandest expeditions. Screenwriter John Logan (the man who brought us more wanting fare such as Gladiator and The Last Samurai) surely shares the blame for that. Although the performances here are good (and Scorsese's direction certainly elevates Logan's paint-by-numbers approach to Howard Hughes's life), I never felt like I learned much more about these characters other than what's pertinent to events in any given scene. Leonardo DiCaprio's performance is technically accomplished, if a little obvious in certain places. While he doesn't layer back story very interestingly, he sells the accent and the externalities very convincingly. He was physically much too green and baby-faced at the time to play Howard Hughes (I'd be curious to see how today's more hardened and grizzled DiCaprio would handle the role). Cate Blanchett is superb, knowing that she's much to distinctive looking to physically sell Katharine Hepburn and instead playing her own version of the screen icon. It's a polished, unfussy turn worthy of the many accolades thrown its way. Kate Beckinsale's Ava Gardner is serviceable (it seems like that's the best she can ever claim), though I can't help but wonder what a more seasoned performer could have brought to the admittedly thin role. I don't even categorically dislike Beckinsale, but she's an actress whose consistent employability over the last decade or so
continues to confuse me, both commercially (has she ever headlined a true "hit"?) and artistically (she's in a competitive enough age bracket for Hollywood actresses that with each role she lands, I wonder why it didn't go to one of the other dozen or so working actresses who physically fit the bill and are more skilled). I've heard several people carry on about the length, which was not a problem for me during either of my two viewings. The structure of the story seems impeccable and Scorsese's stylistic choices (the big one being the use of color and how it changes as the film progresses) seem to complement it well. I just wish there had been more feeling and less grandeur, though I suppose Hughes would have approved of the rather cold and antiseptic treatment his life is given here.
Grade: B
Rosemary's Baby dir. Roman Polanski (1968)
This write-up is sure to border on effusive, but yes! Yes! Yes! This is my second viewing of this film and it is hasn't lost an ounce of its creepiness and evocative nature. It's always refreshing to see a genre film made into high art simply by how well-made it is--a seemingly simple notion, but maybe not when you consider how many genre films seem to forget. I wonder if Mia Farrow, in her prime, was regarded much in the same way present-day movie-going consciousness regards Tilda Swinton: talented, distantly and unconventionally lovely, shrewdly selective when it comes to projects, hard to place and radiating other-worldly class and intelligence. It seems like an apt comparison. Farrow is amazing here, never too shrill or mannered. The now iconic look of shock and horror on her face in the film's chilling final scene is a communicative screen acting at its best. Ruth Gordon is fun and memorable (though admittedly that Oscar was a bit of a stretch) in her turn as the creepy neighbor, playing on the universal often unspoken fear that our neighbors aren't what they seem and commit strange and unspeakable acts behind closed doors. An intelligent and often frightening film that wisely never once shows us what it is we're dreading, an oft repeated technique in horror films since with varying degrees of effectiveness ranging from smart appropriation (The Blair Witch Project) to massive miscalculation (Paranormal Activity).
Grade: A-
Naked dir. Mike Leigh (1993)
Very appropriately titled, as Mike Leigh has never made more outwardly shocking a film. It very daringly digs into the ethos of a man named Johnny (an excellent David Thewlis), whose journey we follow. That the film opens with Johnny committing a rape in Manchester and then follows his journey to London as he encounters ex-girlfriend Louise (Lesley Sharpe) and espouses his nihilistic world views for anyone who will listen. Even by Mike Leigh's standards, Naked isn't large with the external plot. The film is very character-based, but it's also rather heavy (necessarily so). Like all Mike Leigh films, improvisational dialogue is clearly employed. The verisimilitude achieved through this method, married with the frank, violent and often lengthy scenes of sexual assault make for an arresting experience. I love that the film only suggests that Johnny's proclivities may be the result of some unknown ailment(s) or disorder(s), be it mental or physical, without absolving him of guilt for his actions. The way Johnny is juxtaposed with Louise and Sophie's sexual sadist of a landlord could have also served to engender misplaced feelings of admiration for Johnny by comparison, but Mike Leigh never works in simple extremes. I appreciate that Dick Pope's cinematography doesn't keep a stark distance between the viewer and Johnny's crime at the beginning of the film, forcing us to confront what he has done. However, the film refuses to fall into gradient-free notions of "Johnny is bad because of this," "These characters are good because of this." Mike Leigh characters are always fascinating creatures. They're so rarely ever just one thing at any given time, and they are so complexly principled. Louise is weary of Johnny, but she still cares for him. Her muted reaction to Johnny seducing her flatmate Sophie (Katrin Cartlidge) is preferable to what could have been a bigger moment (outwardly). This behavior doesn't shock Louise. Mike Leigh and his actors seem to know that being dismayed is different and much worse than being shocked and dismayed, for it means that you never expected anything better in the first place. And what of t
heir principles? They have them, certainly. But I don't think there's more telling a moment in this film than the conversation Louise and Sophie have about abortion. There are no false notes, no missteps. You believe everything these people say and do. I was supposed to watch Life is Sweet and Topsy-Turvy, both unavailable on Netflix and at the AFI library (isn't that sad?). I instead grabbed the Criterion Collection version of Naked and I'm intensely glad I did. What a fortuitous turn of events.
Grade: A-
L'Avventura dir. Michelangelo Antonioni (1960)
I found myself intrigued, rather than truly engaged, feeling deep admiration, rather than true swept-up passion. Monica Vitti, who plays Claudia (here's a deep comment for you) has one of those otherworldly faces that seems adept at expressing the director's ideas without being obtuse or overly fussy. She immediately brings to mind what I love so much about actresses like Tilda Swinton, Helena Bonham Carter, Samantha Morton and Cate Blanchett. Though of my two Antonioni forays, I much more enjoyed L'Eclisse (in which Vitti also stars), I prefer Vitti's performance here. She's conflicted about the scenario--how subsequently takes up with her friend Anna's (Lea Massari) lover Sandro (Gabriel Ferzetti) mere days after Anna disappears without a trace (that's the loose plot, though to say that this is what the film is "about" would be reductive). Vitti's eyes suggest that she's a very cerebral actress, and yet we never see the wheels turning. I never caught her telegraphing Claudia's next move. As stated earlier, I was conceptually intrigued by the film. Not only does Antonioni not solve the issue of Anna's disappearance, but he makes a point of making it a non-issue in the latter half of the film. Outside of the singular elements of Vitti's performance, I can't say that L'Avventura is truly lingering in my mind as more than a collection of incredibly lovely, often arrest
ing images. Aldo Scavarda's cinematography captures the grandeur of the vacation spot where Anna disappears and contrasts it well with Claudia's more mundane home life. I just wish there had been more here. Like Claudia, I found myself tentatively experiencing the events in this film. It was often pleasurable, often exciting, but ultimately not totally satisfying.
Grade: B
Leaving Las Vegas dir. Mike Figgis (1995)
And so we end this post much as we did the last one--with a film containing a 1995 best actress nominee (the other being Casino). Both take place largely in Las Vegas. Both contain male antiheroes who are met with feminized versions of what they need (or think they need). And...the comparisons between Leaving Las Vegas and Casino pretty much end there, even if you're being overly harsh and overly generous, respectively. Something about coming right off of Casino and watching this after listening to a classmate discuss the virtues of Crazy Heart had me steeling myself for how unremarkable I thought this film was going to be (an aside: seriously?! She called it the best film of 2009. If you think Crazy Heart is the best film of 2009, tell me what are the other six films you watched last year). I couldn't have been more wrong about Leaving Las Vegas. What a beautiful, strange film this is, with its own visual language. It tells the story of an alcoholic Hollywood agent named Ben (Nicolas Cage) who hit rock bottom about five exits back. His drunken tailspin lands him in Las Vegas where he meets a prostitute named Sera (a radiant Elisabeth Shue). A connection is formed. Very little is said. This isn't about how Sera teaches Ben to overcome the perils of alcohol, nor does he help her to discover the beauty of her commodified, male-projected womanly self-worth (was that cynical? It felt cynical). They happen to meet, while he's on his way down and while she's remaining relatively lateral. A brief exchange between Ben and Sera contains the two most important lines of dialogue. The first is Ben's: "You can never, never ask me to stop drinking. Do you understand?" The second is Sera's: "I do. I really do." Stories like this often lend themselves to the most trite, ordinary of filmmaking, both narratively and stylistically. In both cases, director Mike Figgis avoids the path of least resistance. There are a lot of playful cinematic experiments here: the cutaways to interviews where the characters divulge large pieces
of information), the use of 16mm film to shoot the film (incidentally, how fucking awesome was Declan Quinn's cinematography here? Between this and Rachel Getting Married I kind of want to rent everything he's ever shot). And the two leading performances are absolutely searing. Elisabeth Shue gifts the film with a stripped-down, bare bones and natural performance. She avoids the cliches, both of the archetype (hooker with a heart of gold) and of the "big moments" in her scenes. The infamous shower scene, for instance, immediately comes to mind as an example of Shue exercising restraint where another actress (I'm not naming any names) would have chewed the scenery. I fought tears throughout this movie and it has just refused to let go.
Grade: A-
35 films down, 120 to go
A fine film, entertaining, epic in scope and enthralling. Its technical splendor and immersion into period make it hard to attack any of the formal mechanics. It's spectacularly well-made, though it is difficult to get really passionate about it six years after my initial viewing. I'm really glad that Martin Scorsese didn't win his long awaited Oscar for this film, and not only because Million Dollar Baby is a superb and superior film that has aged surprisingly well (know that getting me to admit this about a Clint Eastwood movie is no easy feat). It doesn't feel like a Scorsese film, and I'm not just saying that simply because of the generic departure (The Age of Innocence is certainly an anomaly for Scorsese on paper, but I could still see him in it very much). The Aviator lacks a certain intimacy and character familiarity that have come to be the hallmark of even Scorsese's grandest expeditions. Screenwriter John Logan (the man who brought us more wanting fare such as Gladiator and The Last Samurai) surely shares the blame for that. Although the performances here are good (and Scorsese's direction certainly elevates Logan's paint-by-numbers approach to Howard Hughes's life), I never felt like I learned much more about these characters other than what's pertinent to events in any given scene. Leonardo DiCaprio's performance is technically accomplished, if a little obvious in certain places. While he doesn't layer back story very interestingly, he sells the accent and the externalities very convincingly. He was physically much too green and baby-faced at the time to play Howard Hughes (I'd be curious to see how today's more hardened and grizzled DiCaprio would handle the role). Cate Blanchett is superb, knowing that she's much to distinctive looking to physically sell Katharine Hepburn and instead playing her own version of the screen icon. It's a polished, unfussy turn worthy of the many accolades thrown its way. Kate Beckinsale's Ava Gardner is serviceable (it seems like that's the best she can ever claim), though I can't help but wonder what a more seasoned performer could have brought to the admittedly thin role. I don't even categorically dislike Beckinsale, but she's an actress whose consistent employability over the last decade or so
continues to confuse me, both commercially (has she ever headlined a true "hit"?) and artistically (she's in a competitive enough age bracket for Hollywood actresses that with each role she lands, I wonder why it didn't go to one of the other dozen or so working actresses who physically fit the bill and are more skilled). I've heard several people carry on about the length, which was not a problem for me during either of my two viewings. The structure of the story seems impeccable and Scorsese's stylistic choices (the big one being the use of color and how it changes as the film progresses) seem to complement it well. I just wish there had been more feeling and less grandeur, though I suppose Hughes would have approved of the rather cold and antiseptic treatment his life is given here.Grade: B
Rosemary's Baby dir. Roman Polanski (1968)
This write-up is sure to border on effusive, but yes! Yes! Yes! This is my second viewing of this film and it is hasn't lost an ounce of its creepiness and evocative nature. It's always refreshing to see a genre film made into high art simply by how well-made it is--a seemingly simple notion, but maybe not when you consider how many genre films seem to forget. I wonder if Mia Farrow, in her prime, was regarded much in the same way present-day movie-going consciousness regards Tilda Swinton: talented, distantly and unconventionally lovely, shrewdly selective when it comes to projects, hard to place and radiating other-worldly class and intelligence. It seems like an apt comparison. Farrow is amazing here, never too shrill or mannered. The now iconic look of shock and horror on her face in the film's chilling final scene is a communicative screen acting at its best. Ruth Gordon is fun and memorable (though admittedly that Oscar was a bit of a stretch) in her turn as the creepy neighbor, playing on the universal often unspoken fear that our neighbors aren't what they seem and commit strange and unspeakable acts behind closed doors. An intelligent and often frightening film that wisely never once shows us what it is we're dreading, an oft repeated technique in horror films since with varying degrees of effectiveness ranging from smart appropriation (The Blair Witch Project) to massive miscalculation (Paranormal Activity).
Grade: A-
Naked dir. Mike Leigh (1993)
Very appropriately titled, as Mike Leigh has never made more outwardly shocking a film. It very daringly digs into the ethos of a man named Johnny (an excellent David Thewlis), whose journey we follow. That the film opens with Johnny committing a rape in Manchester and then follows his journey to London as he encounters ex-girlfriend Louise (Lesley Sharpe) and espouses his nihilistic world views for anyone who will listen. Even by Mike Leigh's standards, Naked isn't large with the external plot. The film is very character-based, but it's also rather heavy (necessarily so). Like all Mike Leigh films, improvisational dialogue is clearly employed. The verisimilitude achieved through this method, married with the frank, violent and often lengthy scenes of sexual assault make for an arresting experience. I love that the film only suggests that Johnny's proclivities may be the result of some unknown ailment(s) or disorder(s), be it mental or physical, without absolving him of guilt for his actions. The way Johnny is juxtaposed with Louise and Sophie's sexual sadist of a landlord could have also served to engender misplaced feelings of admiration for Johnny by comparison, but Mike Leigh never works in simple extremes. I appreciate that Dick Pope's cinematography doesn't keep a stark distance between the viewer and Johnny's crime at the beginning of the film, forcing us to confront what he has done. However, the film refuses to fall into gradient-free notions of "Johnny is bad because of this," "These characters are good because of this." Mike Leigh characters are always fascinating creatures. They're so rarely ever just one thing at any given time, and they are so complexly principled. Louise is weary of Johnny, but she still cares for him. Her muted reaction to Johnny seducing her flatmate Sophie (Katrin Cartlidge) is preferable to what could have been a bigger moment (outwardly). This behavior doesn't shock Louise. Mike Leigh and his actors seem to know that being dismayed is different and much worse than being shocked and dismayed, for it means that you never expected anything better in the first place. And what of t
heir principles? They have them, certainly. But I don't think there's more telling a moment in this film than the conversation Louise and Sophie have about abortion. There are no false notes, no missteps. You believe everything these people say and do. I was supposed to watch Life is Sweet and Topsy-Turvy, both unavailable on Netflix and at the AFI library (isn't that sad?). I instead grabbed the Criterion Collection version of Naked and I'm intensely glad I did. What a fortuitous turn of events.Grade: A-
L'Avventura dir. Michelangelo Antonioni (1960)
I found myself intrigued, rather than truly engaged, feeling deep admiration, rather than true swept-up passion. Monica Vitti, who plays Claudia (here's a deep comment for you) has one of those otherworldly faces that seems adept at expressing the director's ideas without being obtuse or overly fussy. She immediately brings to mind what I love so much about actresses like Tilda Swinton, Helena Bonham Carter, Samantha Morton and Cate Blanchett. Though of my two Antonioni forays, I much more enjoyed L'Eclisse (in which Vitti also stars), I prefer Vitti's performance here. She's conflicted about the scenario--how subsequently takes up with her friend Anna's (Lea Massari) lover Sandro (Gabriel Ferzetti) mere days after Anna disappears without a trace (that's the loose plot, though to say that this is what the film is "about" would be reductive). Vitti's eyes suggest that she's a very cerebral actress, and yet we never see the wheels turning. I never caught her telegraphing Claudia's next move. As stated earlier, I was conceptually intrigued by the film. Not only does Antonioni not solve the issue of Anna's disappearance, but he makes a point of making it a non-issue in the latter half of the film. Outside of the singular elements of Vitti's performance, I can't say that L'Avventura is truly lingering in my mind as more than a collection of incredibly lovely, often arrest
ing images. Aldo Scavarda's cinematography captures the grandeur of the vacation spot where Anna disappears and contrasts it well with Claudia's more mundane home life. I just wish there had been more here. Like Claudia, I found myself tentatively experiencing the events in this film. It was often pleasurable, often exciting, but ultimately not totally satisfying.Grade: B
Leaving Las Vegas dir. Mike Figgis (1995)
And so we end this post much as we did the last one--with a film containing a 1995 best actress nominee (the other being Casino). Both take place largely in Las Vegas. Both contain male antiheroes who are met with feminized versions of what they need (or think they need). And...the comparisons between Leaving Las Vegas and Casino pretty much end there, even if you're being overly harsh and overly generous, respectively. Something about coming right off of Casino and watching this after listening to a classmate discuss the virtues of Crazy Heart had me steeling myself for how unremarkable I thought this film was going to be (an aside: seriously?! She called it the best film of 2009. If you think Crazy Heart is the best film of 2009, tell me what are the other six films you watched last year). I couldn't have been more wrong about Leaving Las Vegas. What a beautiful, strange film this is, with its own visual language. It tells the story of an alcoholic Hollywood agent named Ben (Nicolas Cage) who hit rock bottom about five exits back. His drunken tailspin lands him in Las Vegas where he meets a prostitute named Sera (a radiant Elisabeth Shue). A connection is formed. Very little is said. This isn't about how Sera teaches Ben to overcome the perils of alcohol, nor does he help her to discover the beauty of her commodified, male-projected womanly self-worth (was that cynical? It felt cynical). They happen to meet, while he's on his way down and while she's remaining relatively lateral. A brief exchange between Ben and Sera contains the two most important lines of dialogue. The first is Ben's: "You can never, never ask me to stop drinking. Do you understand?" The second is Sera's: "I do. I really do." Stories like this often lend themselves to the most trite, ordinary of filmmaking, both narratively and stylistically. In both cases, director Mike Figgis avoids the path of least resistance. There are a lot of playful cinematic experiments here: the cutaways to interviews where the characters divulge large pieces
of information), the use of 16mm film to shoot the film (incidentally, how fucking awesome was Declan Quinn's cinematography here? Between this and Rachel Getting Married I kind of want to rent everything he's ever shot). And the two leading performances are absolutely searing. Elisabeth Shue gifts the film with a stripped-down, bare bones and natural performance. She avoids the cliches, both of the archetype (hooker with a heart of gold) and of the "big moments" in her scenes. The infamous shower scene, for instance, immediately comes to mind as an example of Shue exercising restraint where another actress (I'm not naming any names) would have chewed the scenery. I fought tears throughout this movie and it has just refused to let go.Grade: A-
35 films down, 120 to go
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Big Pretentious Movie Summer (26-30)
Talk to Her dir. Pedro Almodóvar (2002)
Is it predictable to sing the praises of Talk to Her at this poin
t? Sometimes critical consensus does get it right. The film for which Almodóvar received the most critical acclaim might just be his greatest. It brought him his Academy Award nomination for Best Director as well as a miraculously earned (miraculous because of the Academy's hopelessly middlebrow aesthetics) win for Best Original Screenplay. Almodóvar continues to take our general notions of traditional ideals (in this case, love, or rather, what it means to be in love) and turn them on their ear. Benigno (Javier Cámara) and Marco (Darío Grandinetti) are two men who couldn't be more different, but find themselves in variations of the same situation. Both are in hopelessly and heartbreakingly in love with comatose women. Benigno has never had any real romantic relationship with his love. Marco had a torrid and passionate romance with his. Benigno is almost stupidly optimistic. Marco holds little hope. What ensues is one of the most beautiful meditations on love, communication 
and friendship (and also Almodóvar's best film). So much here begs to just...not work. The line readings could (and the lines themselves) should be maudlin where they are penetrating and poignant. The narrative should be soap-operatic where it is deeply felt and moving. This is the third time I've seen this film (with good spacing in between each viewing) and it never ceases to surprise me the new things I discover on each outing. The best films often reward repeat viewings. It's strange how I never cry until the end when the credits role, the haunting guitar swelling and the dancers swaying. And when it rains, it pours.
Grade: A-
Secrets & Lies dir. Mike Leigh (1996)
I am so unbelievably heartened that someone with Leigh's unconventional take on narrative filmmaking continues to work so consistently. He employs story, yes. But his famous method of improvisation over months of rehearsal to help his actors find the characters first continues to reward. Stephen King (of all people) said it's better to imagine your characters first, rather than to imagine a rigid Point A, Point B plot structure to which thin characters are chained. Not good if you're trying to sell your first screenplay (as I have learned), but the method often births the most interesting films. Here, we have Hortense Cumberbatch played with sharp aplomb by Marianne Jean-Baptiste whose adoptive mother has recently passed away. She searches for her birth mother and is shocked to discover that she is an uncouth, gritty woman named Cynthia Rose Purley (Brenda Blethyn). That is the plot. But it is not the film. The film is more about matters of interaction and interchange that inform our very being. It's about the way Hortense plays her cards so close to her vest, whether she's talking to the woman at the adoption agency, her best friend, or meeting Cynthia for the first time. She does so, even when it might serve her (even in the name of emotional catharsis) to let go just a little bit. Jean-Baptiste (and Leigh) never forget these little details (whether its Hortense refusing a Rolo candy or tentatively taking butter for her potatoes). Brenda Blethyn is amazing as well in her role. Cynthia is not always well-meaning, but her stupidity and short-sightedness make her believe that she is. Why does Cynthia really invite Hortense to a birthday party that leads to the films beautiful, nail-biting and often funny final act? Is she trying to make Hortense feel welcome? By "befri
ending" a black woman, is she trying to appear cosmopolitan to her family, who thinks so little of her? Is she trying to make her brother's wife uncomfortable? The answer is probably some combination of the above, with a few more reasons thrown in to boot. I love that the characters in this film (like flesh and blood humans in real life) never have only one reason for any given action taken or word spoken. This is a beautiful, honest and important film.
Grade: A
4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days dir. Cristian Mungiu (2007)
Pregnancy seemed to be the cinematic topic d'année in 2007. You had Juno, Knocked Up and Waitress (superb--better than you remember, entertaining if ultimately overlong and wanting and horrid to the point of near-unwatchability, respectively). Romania's 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days tops the heap, and by a pretty wide margin. It's so schizophrenic to have watched this in the same week as any Almodóvar film, which is so much about cinematic aesthetic and style. Though Mungiu's tale of a young woman in 198os Romania helping to procure an illegal abortion for her best friend can hardly be described as anti-cinema cinema, it's so bare in comparison. I watched it twice to make sure I was correct in my observation that the scenes are all one-ers (containing no cuts), though I could have apparently read Roger Ebert's astute review to confirm this (Ebert often fires on all cylinders, especially of late). The film is stark, gritty and almost unbearably suspenseful. I also love that it manages not to be loudly political, nor does it avoid the simple, undeniable fact that abortion is an incredibly political issue (though it really shouldn't be). The conversation between protagonist Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) and her boyfriend (Alexandru Potocean) in which she divulges what she's doing for her friend never feels soap-boxy or ham-handedly inserted into the narrative. There's a rather infamous shot in this film that had many people cringing (I didn't know what I was seeing at first, then gasped loudly when I realized). It reminded me of what a spectacular failure Peter Jackson's The Lovely Bones was. There's a shot at the end of that film, which overexplains and underwrites any positive elements the film had managed to salvage at that point. In Mungiu's film, however, it's disturbing and necessary, adding so much heft. At every turn, there is a
feeling of impending doom, right up until the last frame. Though the film ultimately (and effectively) avoids said doom (I read where some find it anti-climatic--I get that), it doesn't take any weight away from the last shot. The women agree to never discuss what has transpired, but one doesn't doubt that there will be deeply felt consequences, be they outward or internal. This is one of the best films of the past ten years.
Grade: A-
Lust, Caution dir. Ang Lee (2007)
I don't really know exactly what it was that made me wait this long to watch this film, but I'm ashamed I waited. It's a beautiful, nearly tonally perfect, well-acted and misjudged films that is remembered and discussed for all the wrong reasons. Tang Wei is Wong chia-chi/Mrs. Mak, a spy for a resistance movement in 1940s China. Tony Leung Chiu-Wai is Mr. Yee, the man she has been employed to seduce, though the lines are blurred and it becomes unclear exactly what point she begins to fall in love with him (if she does in fact fall truly in love with him). Both are excellent. The most taxing roles are often those that require a performance within the performance. Tang Wei handles the task superbly, never forgetting to react. She manages to be communicative, in face, gesture and tone of voice while still not obviously telegraphing her character's next move. The film is talked about in terms of its frank sexuality (which led to it being banned in several countries). The sex scenes are intensely graphic, yes, but not unnecessarily so. It can be said that Lust, Caution is about the way information was gathered and shared during this time. You can pick up useful nuggets during a g
ame of mahjong, where it is understood that very little of what is said is to be taken at face value. Sex too was a way to barter and trade for information and achieve ends (it always has been). Ang Lee demonstrates here what a truly versatile filmmaker he is, moving seamlessly between Sense and Sensibility, The Hulk (again, better than you remember) Brokeback Mountain and this gem of the aughts. I can't imagine myself not returning to this film.
Grade: A-
Casino dir. Martin Scorsese (1995)
Well, I was right about Joe Pesci. He's simply not for me (doesn't he look positively vile in that Love Ranch trailer?) While not the near disaster that many people led me to believe, make no mistake. Casino definitely ranks in the middle to lower tier of the Scorsese achievements I've managed to see. I wasn't so much turned off by its cumbersome length (at nearly 3 hours), but it feels very uneven and unfocused. I will now dedicate the remainder of this write-up to Sharon Stone's best actress Oscar-nominated turn since (let's not even try to pretend otherwise) the film clearly wants me to. What can I even say about Ms. Stone in this film? I'm of about five different minds when it comes to her performance. First of all, she's only the second woman to ever land a best actress nomination in a Scorsese film (Ellen Burstyn won for Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore). I find this interesting because Stone makes a relatively late arrival in the narrative for a best actress nomination and her subsequent screen time screams "supporting." In fact, I contend that had this role been played by any other actress (like say, Madonna who was in talks to play Ginger McKenna), she would have been nominated and quite possibly won in supporting (which would have made Mira Sorvino not an Oscar winner and me very happy, but that's another story for another day). Never before have I seen a performance hinge so much on public perception of the thespian playing the role before. Sharon Stone is generally perceived to exude "hot ghetto mess" much in the same way that Ginger does (as an aside, I guess many people often consider Madonna to be a hot mess, though I can't really understand how a woman with he
r discipline, work-ethic and control over her own public image ever garnered such a misjudged reputation). I understand why Stone was Oscar-nominated. I even support it in certain scenes. And even in the scenes where she hits the wrong notes, she's hitting them...loudly. It's a very prominent performance and everything in the film seems to be tilted in her, um...focus("favor" seems like entirely the wrong word to use in this case). I can understand Robert De Niro bowing down to her and letting her steal scenes. I love the guy and I have never thought he was as hammy and overly mannered as some people seem to perceive him. Pesci on the other hand fights valiantly against Stone, trying to out-shrill her at every turn. And he loses! That is quite the achievement and is preferable, since Scorsese's films are so often male-focused and would normally allow an actor of Joe Pesci's...presence to take over. Stone's turn here is so unrelenting and "you think that's the awards clip? Watch this!" at nearly every moment that I can't really call it a "good" performance in the traditional sense, but it's certainly interesting and a display of thesping I'm not sure any other actress could have achieved.
Grade: C+...for Sharon Stone? (um...A or B- or D, depending on the scene)
30 films down, 125 to go
Is it predictable to sing the praises of Talk to Her at this poin
t? Sometimes critical consensus does get it right. The film for which Almodóvar received the most critical acclaim might just be his greatest. It brought him his Academy Award nomination for Best Director as well as a miraculously earned (miraculous because of the Academy's hopelessly middlebrow aesthetics) win for Best Original Screenplay. Almodóvar continues to take our general notions of traditional ideals (in this case, love, or rather, what it means to be in love) and turn them on their ear. Benigno (Javier Cámara) and Marco (Darío Grandinetti) are two men who couldn't be more different, but find themselves in variations of the same situation. Both are in hopelessly and heartbreakingly in love with comatose women. Benigno has never had any real romantic relationship with his love. Marco had a torrid and passionate romance with his. Benigno is almost stupidly optimistic. Marco holds little hope. What ensues is one of the most beautiful meditations on love, communication 
and friendship (and also Almodóvar's best film). So much here begs to just...not work. The line readings could (and the lines themselves) should be maudlin where they are penetrating and poignant. The narrative should be soap-operatic where it is deeply felt and moving. This is the third time I've seen this film (with good spacing in between each viewing) and it never ceases to surprise me the new things I discover on each outing. The best films often reward repeat viewings. It's strange how I never cry until the end when the credits role, the haunting guitar swelling and the dancers swaying. And when it rains, it pours.Grade: A-
Secrets & Lies dir. Mike Leigh (1996)
I am so unbelievably heartened that someone with Leigh's unconventional take on narrative filmmaking continues to work so consistently. He employs story, yes. But his famous method of improvisation over months of rehearsal to help his actors find the characters first continues to reward. Stephen King (of all people) said it's better to imagine your characters first, rather than to imagine a rigid Point A, Point B plot structure to which thin characters are chained. Not good if you're trying to sell your first screenplay (as I have learned), but the method often births the most interesting films. Here, we have Hortense Cumberbatch played with sharp aplomb by Marianne Jean-Baptiste whose adoptive mother has recently passed away. She searches for her birth mother and is shocked to discover that she is an uncouth, gritty woman named Cynthia Rose Purley (Brenda Blethyn). That is the plot. But it is not the film. The film is more about matters of interaction and interchange that inform our very being. It's about the way Hortense plays her cards so close to her vest, whether she's talking to the woman at the adoption agency, her best friend, or meeting Cynthia for the first time. She does so, even when it might serve her (even in the name of emotional catharsis) to let go just a little bit. Jean-Baptiste (and Leigh) never forget these little details (whether its Hortense refusing a Rolo candy or tentatively taking butter for her potatoes). Brenda Blethyn is amazing as well in her role. Cynthia is not always well-meaning, but her stupidity and short-sightedness make her believe that she is. Why does Cynthia really invite Hortense to a birthday party that leads to the films beautiful, nail-biting and often funny final act? Is she trying to make Hortense feel welcome? By "befri
ending" a black woman, is she trying to appear cosmopolitan to her family, who thinks so little of her? Is she trying to make her brother's wife uncomfortable? The answer is probably some combination of the above, with a few more reasons thrown in to boot. I love that the characters in this film (like flesh and blood humans in real life) never have only one reason for any given action taken or word spoken. This is a beautiful, honest and important film.Grade: A
4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days dir. Cristian Mungiu (2007)
Pregnancy seemed to be the cinematic topic d'année in 2007. You had Juno, Knocked Up and Waitress (superb--better than you remember, entertaining if ultimately overlong and wanting and horrid to the point of near-unwatchability, respectively). Romania's 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days tops the heap, and by a pretty wide margin. It's so schizophrenic to have watched this in the same week as any Almodóvar film, which is so much about cinematic aesthetic and style. Though Mungiu's tale of a young woman in 198os Romania helping to procure an illegal abortion for her best friend can hardly be described as anti-cinema cinema, it's so bare in comparison. I watched it twice to make sure I was correct in my observation that the scenes are all one-ers (containing no cuts), though I could have apparently read Roger Ebert's astute review to confirm this (Ebert often fires on all cylinders, especially of late). The film is stark, gritty and almost unbearably suspenseful. I also love that it manages not to be loudly political, nor does it avoid the simple, undeniable fact that abortion is an incredibly political issue (though it really shouldn't be). The conversation between protagonist Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) and her boyfriend (Alexandru Potocean) in which she divulges what she's doing for her friend never feels soap-boxy or ham-handedly inserted into the narrative. There's a rather infamous shot in this film that had many people cringing (I didn't know what I was seeing at first, then gasped loudly when I realized). It reminded me of what a spectacular failure Peter Jackson's The Lovely Bones was. There's a shot at the end of that film, which overexplains and underwrites any positive elements the film had managed to salvage at that point. In Mungiu's film, however, it's disturbing and necessary, adding so much heft. At every turn, there is a
feeling of impending doom, right up until the last frame. Though the film ultimately (and effectively) avoids said doom (I read where some find it anti-climatic--I get that), it doesn't take any weight away from the last shot. The women agree to never discuss what has transpired, but one doesn't doubt that there will be deeply felt consequences, be they outward or internal. This is one of the best films of the past ten years.Grade: A-
Lust, Caution dir. Ang Lee (2007)
I don't really know exactly what it was that made me wait this long to watch this film, but I'm ashamed I waited. It's a beautiful, nearly tonally perfect, well-acted and misjudged films that is remembered and discussed for all the wrong reasons. Tang Wei is Wong chia-chi/Mrs. Mak, a spy for a resistance movement in 1940s China. Tony Leung Chiu-Wai is Mr. Yee, the man she has been employed to seduce, though the lines are blurred and it becomes unclear exactly what point she begins to fall in love with him (if she does in fact fall truly in love with him). Both are excellent. The most taxing roles are often those that require a performance within the performance. Tang Wei handles the task superbly, never forgetting to react. She manages to be communicative, in face, gesture and tone of voice while still not obviously telegraphing her character's next move. The film is talked about in terms of its frank sexuality (which led to it being banned in several countries). The sex scenes are intensely graphic, yes, but not unnecessarily so. It can be said that Lust, Caution is about the way information was gathered and shared during this time. You can pick up useful nuggets during a g
ame of mahjong, where it is understood that very little of what is said is to be taken at face value. Sex too was a way to barter and trade for information and achieve ends (it always has been). Ang Lee demonstrates here what a truly versatile filmmaker he is, moving seamlessly between Sense and Sensibility, The Hulk (again, better than you remember) Brokeback Mountain and this gem of the aughts. I can't imagine myself not returning to this film.Grade: A-
Casino dir. Martin Scorsese (1995)
Well, I was right about Joe Pesci. He's simply not for me (doesn't he look positively vile in that Love Ranch trailer?) While not the near disaster that many people led me to believe, make no mistake. Casino definitely ranks in the middle to lower tier of the Scorsese achievements I've managed to see. I wasn't so much turned off by its cumbersome length (at nearly 3 hours), but it feels very uneven and unfocused. I will now dedicate the remainder of this write-up to Sharon Stone's best actress Oscar-nominated turn since (let's not even try to pretend otherwise) the film clearly wants me to. What can I even say about Ms. Stone in this film? I'm of about five different minds when it comes to her performance. First of all, she's only the second woman to ever land a best actress nomination in a Scorsese film (Ellen Burstyn won for Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore). I find this interesting because Stone makes a relatively late arrival in the narrative for a best actress nomination and her subsequent screen time screams "supporting." In fact, I contend that had this role been played by any other actress (like say, Madonna who was in talks to play Ginger McKenna), she would have been nominated and quite possibly won in supporting (which would have made Mira Sorvino not an Oscar winner and me very happy, but that's another story for another day). Never before have I seen a performance hinge so much on public perception of the thespian playing the role before. Sharon Stone is generally perceived to exude "hot ghetto mess" much in the same way that Ginger does (as an aside, I guess many people often consider Madonna to be a hot mess, though I can't really understand how a woman with he
r discipline, work-ethic and control over her own public image ever garnered such a misjudged reputation). I understand why Stone was Oscar-nominated. I even support it in certain scenes. And even in the scenes where she hits the wrong notes, she's hitting them...loudly. It's a very prominent performance and everything in the film seems to be tilted in her, um...focus("favor" seems like entirely the wrong word to use in this case). I can understand Robert De Niro bowing down to her and letting her steal scenes. I love the guy and I have never thought he was as hammy and overly mannered as some people seem to perceive him. Pesci on the other hand fights valiantly against Stone, trying to out-shrill her at every turn. And he loses! That is quite the achievement and is preferable, since Scorsese's films are so often male-focused and would normally allow an actor of Joe Pesci's...presence to take over. Stone's turn here is so unrelenting and "you think that's the awards clip? Watch this!" at nearly every moment that I can't really call it a "good" performance in the traditional sense, but it's certainly interesting and a display of thesping I'm not sure any other actress could have achieved.Grade: C+...for Sharon Stone? (um...A or B- or D, depending on the scene)
30 films down, 125 to go
Monday, June 28, 2010
Another Small Programming Note...
I can't seem to track down a copy of Mike Leigh's Life is Sweet (what a sad world we live in...). I may have to VHS it. But in the meantime, I'll be watching Naked in its stead. I'm also adding Leaving Las Vegas to the miscellaneous list. That's all.
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Big Pretentious Movie Summer (21-25)
Manhattan dir. Woody Allen (1979)
All of the elements for my enjoying Woody Allen's love letter to Manhattan are seemingly present. Woody Allen? I'm finding that I love him more often than not, and even when groupthink deems something of his to be lower tier, there's at least something interesting to be discovered. Great cast? Check. I've extolled Meryl Streep's praises time and again, so I won't be redundant. I'm learning that I actually do enjoy Diane Keaton, whose thesping I've frankly found to be a tad pedestrian on more than one occasion, her Oscar-winning performance in Annie Hall--one of the best of all time for the category--notwithstanding (I've still yet to see Reds). And Mariel Hemingway? No complaints. Who can forget that TBS original movie she was in where she plays the secret service agent tracking the President's kidnapped daughter (played my "Dawson's Creek alum Monica Keena) aptly titled First Daughter (and yes, there are two films featuring former Creek'ers called First Daughter). I really really REALLY digress. My second crack at Manhattan, I found that my feelings still fell just short of love. I know I shall be revisiting it soon. Manhattan feels draggier the second time out. It's ideas feel extremely protracted, beyond the requirements of the narrative and beyond what's even to be expected from a Woody Allen film. I also found myself wondering about performance. In a Woody Allen film, especially, it would seem that casting is key. He is a director who famously writes every idea, nuance and cadence into a performance and therefore needs an actor who's in step with that. Meryl Streep describes the schizophrenic experience of filming Kramer vs. Kramer and Manhattan simultaneously. Where Robert Benton and screen partner Dustin Hoffman really let her find her character and her scenes, Woody Allen would famously stop her if she missed half a beat. Watching Manhattan it's clear that sometimes, performances suffer under his guidance because of this. Even in superior Woody Allen films, such as the recently lauded Interiors, performers like Mary Beth Hurt stumble through line readings that could have been made better with some leeway for improvisations. The film is a love letter to New York and an oft beautiful and lyric one at that. But it wants to be sweeping and engrossing, where it is often specific to the point of being exclusive (which is more my problem than it is the film's). Allen's treatment of lesbianism in his films is a topic of interest, particularly here. Lesbianism, as told by Allen, is framed as either an
inconvenience/oddity in relation to men (seen here with Streep who plays Allen's lesbian ex-wife) or as objects to titillate and perform (as in Vicky Cristina Barcelona). Jill (Streep) and her new partner seem so desperately and myopically the creation of male gaze, which, granted, is unavoidable given the circumstances. The relationship is so narratively constructed to be irksome for Isaac (Allen) that one wonders if Jill and her partner retreat to separate bedrooms once he is gone, no longer needing to keep up the ruse. It's a small, but very telling schema, and one embedded in much of Allen's work. I guess it's almost refreshingly innocent on some level that someone with Allen's level of intellect can hold such seemingly antiquated views. And it's not as though that thread runs throughout his treatment of women, full-stop. Woody Allen has always been adept at portraying successful, independent women (particularly Diane Keaton in this film) in ways that miraculously seem unforced and unencumbered by the sandbags of male guilt. It's infinitely preferable to Tyler Perry's Independent Black Successful Woman™, who still can't make it through one of his films without being saved by glistening, rippling, pectoral muscles. For that, I'll always be thankful for Allen, even when I'm underwhelmed.
Grade: B
Hannah and Her Sisters dir. Woody Allen (1986)
How I would have loved to live through the golden age of the Woody years, in which Hannah and Her Sisters can be found, smack in the middle. Some would argue he's going through a current renaissance of sorts. Even at my most generous (I love me some Match Point, am a staunch Vicky Cristina Barcelona apologist and am clearly the only person on the planet who enjoyed Whatever Works, even a little bit) I have to admit these films pale in comparison to his best work (among which is Hannah and Her Sisters). Hannah and Her Sisters is beautifully constructed, almost scene by scene. This is an honest portrayal of a year in the life of three sisters, Hannah (Mia Farrow), Lee (Barbara Hershey) and Holly (Dianne Wiest). What's almost miraculous about this film is that many formal "Allen" elements that often work against his films, even his best (ponderous narration, dry, upper-middle class intellectualism, verbosity and cut-aways within cut-aways) seem to be working in perfect symbiosis here. All of the performers hit exactly the right notes, particularly the eponymous sisters themselves. Barbara Hershey's turn is studied and more understated than her character's histrionics suggest, particularly during her breakdown in the semi-famous restaurant scene. She reigns herself in at all the right moments and knows how much of the scene hinges on not only what she doesn't say, but how she avoids saying it. Dianne Wiest radiates her character's flightiness with her frazzled, stochastic mannerisms, but she also layers it very interestingly. Wiest's Holly toes so many lines, whether she's being selfishly indignant, willfully inconsiderate or merely oblivious. It could have been so easily mishandled in the wrong hands, and (Oscar or no Oscar) I don't think that Wiest gets due credit for how much control she has over this character. Look how Wiest communicates Holly's surprise at the new role she's assumed in having to patronize her more successful sister Hannah, aft
er she writes a hurtful (albeit, very good) screenplay mirroring her life. It's not something she's used to. The temerity in voice and action shows her grappling, both with her guilt and her relishing of finally having her sister emotionally hog-tied. Like Interiors it is a snapshot of three adult sisters and like Interiors it is one of the most mature, honest and beautiful films of Allen's filmography. I immediately wanted to start it over and watch it again. I loved this movie.
Grade: A-
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown dir. Pedro Almodóvar
(1988)
Very entertaining. I have always admired Almodóvar's aesthetic, even if I am only now (shamefully) becoming more acquainted with his earlier work. If pressed, I have to admit a certain lack of...enthusiasm for this film, even a week after its initial viewing. I will say that, despite its failings to really burn bright in my mind as a rarefied work of cinematic genius, I appreciate how much Almodóvar really loves the women in his films. He gifts the craziness with aching humanity, as evidenced by Carmen Maura's justifiably lauded, more than the sum-of-its-part performance. Maura's Pepa is a teasingly specific, peculiar creature, anchored to the narrative by the actress's earnestness. However, very few singular elements come to mind in a very specific way (the spiked gazpacho being the exception--forgive my language, but what a fucking great plot device). I know a lot of people rank this as high-art, but I saw a very entertaining (as previously stated), very simple and frankly, rather slight (especially when held up against Almodóvar's filmography) portrayal of female hysteria.
Grade: B
Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! dir. Pedro Almodóvar (1990)
Breathtaking and daring and one of Almodóvar's best (though I understand I'm clearly in the minority for thinking so). It evokes many conflicting emotions about the nature of sexual need, romantic love and how the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive (a subject that our culture is rather reticent about, so hell bent we are on subverting the knowledge that people have sex and enjoy it, lest our children find out and cause the end of the world). So my write-up doesn't turn into a total love-in (I really loved this movie almost to the point of wanting to marry it), I'm going to address one qualm I had--if it's even a qualm. Ricky (Antonio Banderas) is the recently released patient from a mental institution who kidnaps and ties up the beautiful actress Marina (Victoria Abril). He plays the role charismatically and skillfully, never forgetting to layer the hysteria in an interesting way. My concern is not at all with Banderas's performance. But...doesn't it seem like a cop out to for Almodóvar to address this issue of Stockholm Syndrome gone awry using someone who looks like Antonio Banderas, circa 1990? I wonder if the film would have wo
rked just as well (maybe better?) with a lead actor at the helm who (even if he's not your thing) doesn't exude virility and charm the way Banderas does. Far be it for me to rewrite Almodóvar's film for him, recasting it with some Spanish Steve Buscemi. But, when pushing the envelope, I really want films to earn the way they tap into their audience's most base, uncomfortable desires.
Grade: A-
All About My Mother dir. Pedro Almodóvar (1999)
It's strange that two of the films for which Almodóvar arguably garnered the most acclaim (Women on the Verge... and now All About My Mother) evoked comparatively tepid response from me when held up against films like Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! and Bad Education. I loved the two latter, though critical consensus and being told so by the many tell me that I apparently have bad taste for holding them in greater regard than the two former (Talk to Her and Volver are actually where I align with the critics regarding Almodóvar). I enjoyed All About My Mother, certainly. What I respect and appreciate so deeply about him is that even when my reaction lacks rabid intense passion (which, sadly is the case this time out) there are always formal elements and aesthetics to admire and marvel at that are more interesting and compelling than your average movie-going experience. Like Woody Allen's Manhattan, I spent a fair amount of time trying to convince myself that I loved a movie which I merely liked a whole lot. I love Cecilia Roth and Penelope Cruz's very different performances here. Cecilia Roth's fierce, intense leading work here drives the film and she often saves certain scenes from utter melodram
atic milquetoast. If she were more notable, an Oscar nomination surely would have followed (it's not like Oscar ignored--the film won Best Foreign Language Film). Cruz is radiant as the young naive nun who knows more that she even ultimately indicates. The film ultimately feels overlong and gives a little bit more revolution than I would have liked to see/the film needs. But an enjoyable movie-watching experience nonetheless.
Grade: B
25 Films Down 130 to Go
All of the elements for my enjoying Woody Allen's love letter to Manhattan are seemingly present. Woody Allen? I'm finding that I love him more often than not, and even when groupthink deems something of his to be lower tier, there's at least something interesting to be discovered. Great cast? Check. I've extolled Meryl Streep's praises time and again, so I won't be redundant. I'm learning that I actually do enjoy Diane Keaton, whose thesping I've frankly found to be a tad pedestrian on more than one occasion, her Oscar-winning performance in Annie Hall--one of the best of all time for the category--notwithstanding (I've still yet to see Reds). And Mariel Hemingway? No complaints. Who can forget that TBS original movie she was in where she plays the secret service agent tracking the President's kidnapped daughter (played my "Dawson's Creek alum Monica Keena) aptly titled First Daughter (and yes, there are two films featuring former Creek'ers called First Daughter). I really really REALLY digress. My second crack at Manhattan, I found that my feelings still fell just short of love. I know I shall be revisiting it soon. Manhattan feels draggier the second time out. It's ideas feel extremely protracted, beyond the requirements of the narrative and beyond what's even to be expected from a Woody Allen film. I also found myself wondering about performance. In a Woody Allen film, especially, it would seem that casting is key. He is a director who famously writes every idea, nuance and cadence into a performance and therefore needs an actor who's in step with that. Meryl Streep describes the schizophrenic experience of filming Kramer vs. Kramer and Manhattan simultaneously. Where Robert Benton and screen partner Dustin Hoffman really let her find her character and her scenes, Woody Allen would famously stop her if she missed half a beat. Watching Manhattan it's clear that sometimes, performances suffer under his guidance because of this. Even in superior Woody Allen films, such as the recently lauded Interiors, performers like Mary Beth Hurt stumble through line readings that could have been made better with some leeway for improvisations. The film is a love letter to New York and an oft beautiful and lyric one at that. But it wants to be sweeping and engrossing, where it is often specific to the point of being exclusive (which is more my problem than it is the film's). Allen's treatment of lesbianism in his films is a topic of interest, particularly here. Lesbianism, as told by Allen, is framed as either an
inconvenience/oddity in relation to men (seen here with Streep who plays Allen's lesbian ex-wife) or as objects to titillate and perform (as in Vicky Cristina Barcelona). Jill (Streep) and her new partner seem so desperately and myopically the creation of male gaze, which, granted, is unavoidable given the circumstances. The relationship is so narratively constructed to be irksome for Isaac (Allen) that one wonders if Jill and her partner retreat to separate bedrooms once he is gone, no longer needing to keep up the ruse. It's a small, but very telling schema, and one embedded in much of Allen's work. I guess it's almost refreshingly innocent on some level that someone with Allen's level of intellect can hold such seemingly antiquated views. And it's not as though that thread runs throughout his treatment of women, full-stop. Woody Allen has always been adept at portraying successful, independent women (particularly Diane Keaton in this film) in ways that miraculously seem unforced and unencumbered by the sandbags of male guilt. It's infinitely preferable to Tyler Perry's Independent Black Successful Woman™, who still can't make it through one of his films without being saved by glistening, rippling, pectoral muscles. For that, I'll always be thankful for Allen, even when I'm underwhelmed.Grade: B
Hannah and Her Sisters dir. Woody Allen (1986)
How I would have loved to live through the golden age of the Woody years, in which Hannah and Her Sisters can be found, smack in the middle. Some would argue he's going through a current renaissance of sorts. Even at my most generous (I love me some Match Point, am a staunch Vicky Cristina Barcelona apologist and am clearly the only person on the planet who enjoyed Whatever Works, even a little bit) I have to admit these films pale in comparison to his best work (among which is Hannah and Her Sisters). Hannah and Her Sisters is beautifully constructed, almost scene by scene. This is an honest portrayal of a year in the life of three sisters, Hannah (Mia Farrow), Lee (Barbara Hershey) and Holly (Dianne Wiest). What's almost miraculous about this film is that many formal "Allen" elements that often work against his films, even his best (ponderous narration, dry, upper-middle class intellectualism, verbosity and cut-aways within cut-aways) seem to be working in perfect symbiosis here. All of the performers hit exactly the right notes, particularly the eponymous sisters themselves. Barbara Hershey's turn is studied and more understated than her character's histrionics suggest, particularly during her breakdown in the semi-famous restaurant scene. She reigns herself in at all the right moments and knows how much of the scene hinges on not only what she doesn't say, but how she avoids saying it. Dianne Wiest radiates her character's flightiness with her frazzled, stochastic mannerisms, but she also layers it very interestingly. Wiest's Holly toes so many lines, whether she's being selfishly indignant, willfully inconsiderate or merely oblivious. It could have been so easily mishandled in the wrong hands, and (Oscar or no Oscar) I don't think that Wiest gets due credit for how much control she has over this character. Look how Wiest communicates Holly's surprise at the new role she's assumed in having to patronize her more successful sister Hannah, aft
er she writes a hurtful (albeit, very good) screenplay mirroring her life. It's not something she's used to. The temerity in voice and action shows her grappling, both with her guilt and her relishing of finally having her sister emotionally hog-tied. Like Interiors it is a snapshot of three adult sisters and like Interiors it is one of the most mature, honest and beautiful films of Allen's filmography. I immediately wanted to start it over and watch it again. I loved this movie.Grade: A-
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown dir. Pedro Almodóvar
(1988)Very entertaining. I have always admired Almodóvar's aesthetic, even if I am only now (shamefully) becoming more acquainted with his earlier work. If pressed, I have to admit a certain lack of...enthusiasm for this film, even a week after its initial viewing. I will say that, despite its failings to really burn bright in my mind as a rarefied work of cinematic genius, I appreciate how much Almodóvar really loves the women in his films. He gifts the craziness with aching humanity, as evidenced by Carmen Maura's justifiably lauded, more than the sum-of-its-part performance. Maura's Pepa is a teasingly specific, peculiar creature, anchored to the narrative by the actress's earnestness. However, very few singular elements come to mind in a very specific way (the spiked gazpacho being the exception--forgive my language, but what a fucking great plot device). I know a lot of people rank this as high-art, but I saw a very entertaining (as previously stated), very simple and frankly, rather slight (especially when held up against Almodóvar's filmography) portrayal of female hysteria.
Grade: B
Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! dir. Pedro Almodóvar (1990)
Breathtaking and daring and one of Almodóvar's best (though I understand I'm clearly in the minority for thinking so). It evokes many conflicting emotions about the nature of sexual need, romantic love and how the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive (a subject that our culture is rather reticent about, so hell bent we are on subverting the knowledge that people have sex and enjoy it, lest our children find out and cause the end of the world). So my write-up doesn't turn into a total love-in (I really loved this movie almost to the point of wanting to marry it), I'm going to address one qualm I had--if it's even a qualm. Ricky (Antonio Banderas) is the recently released patient from a mental institution who kidnaps and ties up the beautiful actress Marina (Victoria Abril). He plays the role charismatically and skillfully, never forgetting to layer the hysteria in an interesting way. My concern is not at all with Banderas's performance. But...doesn't it seem like a cop out to for Almodóvar to address this issue of Stockholm Syndrome gone awry using someone who looks like Antonio Banderas, circa 1990? I wonder if the film would have wo
rked just as well (maybe better?) with a lead actor at the helm who (even if he's not your thing) doesn't exude virility and charm the way Banderas does. Far be it for me to rewrite Almodóvar's film for him, recasting it with some Spanish Steve Buscemi. But, when pushing the envelope, I really want films to earn the way they tap into their audience's most base, uncomfortable desires.Grade: A-
All About My Mother dir. Pedro Almodóvar (1999)
It's strange that two of the films for which Almodóvar arguably garnered the most acclaim (Women on the Verge... and now All About My Mother) evoked comparatively tepid response from me when held up against films like Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! and Bad Education. I loved the two latter, though critical consensus and being told so by the many tell me that I apparently have bad taste for holding them in greater regard than the two former (Talk to Her and Volver are actually where I align with the critics regarding Almodóvar). I enjoyed All About My Mother, certainly. What I respect and appreciate so deeply about him is that even when my reaction lacks rabid intense passion (which, sadly is the case this time out) there are always formal elements and aesthetics to admire and marvel at that are more interesting and compelling than your average movie-going experience. Like Woody Allen's Manhattan, I spent a fair amount of time trying to convince myself that I loved a movie which I merely liked a whole lot. I love Cecilia Roth and Penelope Cruz's very different performances here. Cecilia Roth's fierce, intense leading work here drives the film and she often saves certain scenes from utter melodram
atic milquetoast. If she were more notable, an Oscar nomination surely would have followed (it's not like Oscar ignored--the film won Best Foreign Language Film). Cruz is radiant as the young naive nun who knows more that she even ultimately indicates. The film ultimately feels overlong and gives a little bit more revolution than I would have liked to see/the film needs. But an enjoyable movie-watching experience nonetheless.Grade: B
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