Somewhere in the space-time continuum exists an alternate history where Nixon is elected to a third term, Vietnam is an American triumph and superheroes (read: people who dress up and can fight well) are banned seeing as they often do more harm than good. This is the world of Alan Moore's much hailed epic graphic novel "Watchmen", called by many the "Citizen Kane" of the comic book world, and adapted by Zack Snyder ("300") into a two and a half hour science fiction mindslide.
I have searched my mind, and I do not think that I have seen a genre film of such peculiar impact and profundity since Deckard chased down Replicants in a futuristic Los Angeles. “If you can see what I’ve seen with my eyes”, indeed; wait until you meet Dr Manhattan in meditative mood.
For some reason, I feel that with a film this big in scope and theme (tragically, it is seen as a box-office disappointment), the less said the better. I will say that the film is structured according to character, and freely leaps between present, past and memory, thereby presenting a challenge to mainstream moviegoers to follow the events. Oh, and there's much to say about these characters, flung into a narrative of desctructino beyond their control: The Comedian; Silk Spectre; Nite Owl; and the pleasures of Rorschach and Dr Manhattan, who is an entitity of energy such as filmdom has not yet seen. The film proceeds to use these characters to examine American history, identity, moral responsibility and nothing less than nucelar holocaust (in a brave but smart move, Snyder replaces the graphic novel's ending with something far more authentic and terrifying).
I savour every frame of his film, this comic book come to life. Some scenes will, I know, haunt me for weeks, maybe months to come: Dr Manhattan on Mars; Silk Spectre I's encounter with The Comedian; Nite Owl and Silk Spectre II getting frisky on their transport craft; Ozymandias's explanation of his actions; Rorschach's final moments; many, many more.
The film boasts a cast that works, every single one. Allow me to point out Jackie Earle Hailey who would, in a perfect world, get an Oscar for his performance as Rorschach, and Patrick Wilson's all-too-human Nite Owl.
Emotional, intellectually multidimensional and politically subversive, "Watchmen" is a monumental motion picture. At the year's end, I will return to it.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Inertia in action
Having seen a number of heavy films, I opted to watch a straightforward action vehicle starring one of the few action heroes I can tolerate as a means of compensating for the mental atomisation that the other films had incurred. Although I subscribe to Ebert’s dictum that a good movie can never be depressing, overdosing on such films do exert a toll, often manifesting, at least for me, in a strange feeling of mental fatigue. With this motivation I justified watching Olivier Megaton’s (!) “The Transporter 3”, featuring Jason Statham as franchise protagonist and Audi aficionado Frank Martin.
This time, Martin is forced into transporting precious cargo by an American villain (Robert Knepper) intent on forcing a Russian politician to sign a document that will result in great financial benefit to certain people and certain ecological doom for others.
“The Transporter 3” is easily the worst Besson-scripted film I’ve yet seen. From the opening sequence which is later nearly forgotten by the film to the men on the boat catching fish to the bizarre and embarrassing love story between Martin and his travelling companion (who is also a stunningly bad actress), the film has plot holes large enough to double flip a black Audi on the back of a speeding train through.
Halfway through the film I reflected on the possibility that the action sequences should be interesting enough to keep my interest from waning, but no – like many other action films in the post-“Bourne” era, “T3” also shows us fistfights where you’re never quite sure who’s doing what to whom. You see an arm extending, a leg flailing; yet, you seldom seem to witness actual contact, or to hear bones crack.
This is a low for Statham (keep in mind I have not seen his turn in Boll’s “In the Name of the King”, which I intend to watch as part of a 'suicide combo' paired with “Dragonball: Evolution” and “Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li” towards the end of the year) who does his best to do his macho man-thing but an actor is only as strong his material, and Statham has barely anything to stand on. I could go on and on discussing the numerous glaring flaws in this film – and here I don’t even omment on the physics of the Bessoniverse – but I can’t see why. No-one will remember this Eurotrash action rubbish by 2010, if they haven’t already forgotten it. Hopefully Statham, who really deserves better, gets a gig for Guy Ritchie soon. From what I've heard, "Crank 2: High Voltage" isn't much of a step up (and, for the record, I despised the first "Crank").
Also, here’s hoping Besson, who hasn’t directed anything noteworthy in a decade and released his best film a whole 15 years ago, moves on to interior design. He may be a profitable French export, but his movies are terrible.
This time, Martin is forced into transporting precious cargo by an American villain (Robert Knepper) intent on forcing a Russian politician to sign a document that will result in great financial benefit to certain people and certain ecological doom for others.
“The Transporter 3” is easily the worst Besson-scripted film I’ve yet seen. From the opening sequence which is later nearly forgotten by the film to the men on the boat catching fish to the bizarre and embarrassing love story between Martin and his travelling companion (who is also a stunningly bad actress), the film has plot holes large enough to double flip a black Audi on the back of a speeding train through.
Halfway through the film I reflected on the possibility that the action sequences should be interesting enough to keep my interest from waning, but no – like many other action films in the post-“Bourne” era, “T3” also shows us fistfights where you’re never quite sure who’s doing what to whom. You see an arm extending, a leg flailing; yet, you seldom seem to witness actual contact, or to hear bones crack.
This is a low for Statham (keep in mind I have not seen his turn in Boll’s “In the Name of the King”, which I intend to watch as part of a 'suicide combo' paired with “Dragonball: Evolution” and “Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li” towards the end of the year) who does his best to do his macho man-thing but an actor is only as strong his material, and Statham has barely anything to stand on. I could go on and on discussing the numerous glaring flaws in this film – and here I don’t even omment on the physics of the Bessoniverse – but I can’t see why. No-one will remember this Eurotrash action rubbish by 2010, if they haven’t already forgotten it. Hopefully Statham, who really deserves better, gets a gig for Guy Ritchie soon. From what I've heard, "Crank 2: High Voltage" isn't much of a step up (and, for the record, I despised the first "Crank").
Also, here’s hoping Besson, who hasn’t directed anything noteworthy in a decade and released his best film a whole 15 years ago, moves on to interior design. He may be a profitable French export, but his movies are terrible.
Planetary alignment
Eight years after its release, David Twohy’s “Pitch Black” remains a small, effective space thriller. Revisiting the film recently, I found that the reasons for why the movie works are simple but potent (possible spoiler warning):
- a creepy antihero in the form of Richard B. Riddick, a character that didn’t know he was about to launch a small cult with this film (Riddick has the movie’s best lines);
- Riddick’s eye shine, a gimmick that enables him (and us) to see in the dark while other characters simply stumble on;
- a sympathetic female lead, an anti-Final Girl in a way, in accomplished Aussie actress Rhoda Mitchell who serves as Riddick’s counter;
- alien creatures that are wonderfully predatory although the creature design lacks some imagination;
- deaths don’t always occur on screen, employing the “less is more-rule” of scary movies that work well;
- a clear setup that is SF simplicity itself: crash survivors on desert planet need to get off of said planet but they encounter hungry aliens that swarm during eclipses (I guess this almost makes the film a survival horror but it’s too SF for that to be completely the case).
A pity that “Chronicles of Riddick” ended up being bloated and indulgent, a far cry from this lean, snappy escape movie.
Of course, the best Riddick story is the one told in “Escape from Butcher Bay”. (I have not seen "Dark Fury".)
- a creepy antihero in the form of Richard B. Riddick, a character that didn’t know he was about to launch a small cult with this film (Riddick has the movie’s best lines);
- Riddick’s eye shine, a gimmick that enables him (and us) to see in the dark while other characters simply stumble on;
- a sympathetic female lead, an anti-Final Girl in a way, in accomplished Aussie actress Rhoda Mitchell who serves as Riddick’s counter;
- alien creatures that are wonderfully predatory although the creature design lacks some imagination;
- deaths don’t always occur on screen, employing the “less is more-rule” of scary movies that work well;
- a clear setup that is SF simplicity itself: crash survivors on desert planet need to get off of said planet but they encounter hungry aliens that swarm during eclipses (I guess this almost makes the film a survival horror but it’s too SF for that to be completely the case).
A pity that “Chronicles of Riddick” ended up being bloated and indulgent, a far cry from this lean, snappy escape movie.
Of course, the best Riddick story is the one told in “Escape from Butcher Bay”. (I have not seen "Dark Fury".)
Paris of Pain
Released in the mid 1990s to great acclaim, Matthieu Kassovitz’s controversial “La Haine” (“Hate”), featuring Vincent Cassell as a hotheaded marginalised French youth, remains a good film (the politics remain unsettlingly relevant), with crisp black and white imagery. It is unfortunate that a film that is all about emotional turmoil, resistance against exploitation and the claws of anomy loses steam halfway through, unlike a similarly themed film that it is often favourably compared to: Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing”.
In my mind, Lee’s film is superior, but Kassovitz’s film does manage to give visual voice to those unwelcome to France: the Algerians, Afro-Caribbeans, and so on. If nothing else, it is difference that unites these characters who do cannot participate in the benefits of Parisian life due to their low income status.
In my mind, Lee’s film is superior, but Kassovitz’s film does manage to give visual voice to those unwelcome to France: the Algerians, Afro-Caribbeans, and so on. If nothing else, it is difference that unites these characters who do cannot participate in the benefits of Parisian life due to their low income status.
Smart car, white vision
The story of the grumpy old men who learns a life lesson late in his life which Changes him is a familiar one. In the predictable “Gran Torino”, at least the old man is played by Clint Eastwood, who also directs, and who has simply gotten better with age. Had the film starred anyone else, it would’ve disappeared into oblivion; with American legend Eastwood starring, it became a surprise phenomenon, but it’s not a personal favourite. I think his “Mystic River” is indulgent and overrated, while the awards and acclaim for “Million Dollar Baby” still baffle me. Then again, “Flags of our Fathers” and “Letters from Iwo Jima” together is a great film of the 2000s. “Gran Torino” features much in the way of good acting and solid old school filmmaking but little in the way of originality.
When a talented filmmaker makes a lesser movie, chances are that the ‘lesser movie’ will still be much more interesting and worth viewing than films made by less talented filmmakers. After impressing the world with “City of God” and memorably adapting “The Constant Gardener”, Fernando Mereilles adapts difficult material for his third film, “Blindness”, an unsettling commentary on social life and the lack of authentic social relation. Based on the novel by Jose Saramago, the film starts as a drama and escalates into depraved horror by the halfway mark. Although it’s not thematically complex and doesn’t truly interrogate notions of intimacy and (in)sight, the film is effective in a cold, detached way in how it, like other films before it, shows humans as capable of great wrongdoing but also of self-sacrifice. Not an easy watch, and not particularly mentally stimulating, but rather captivating.
When a talented filmmaker makes a lesser movie, chances are that the ‘lesser movie’ will still be much more interesting and worth viewing than films made by less talented filmmakers. After impressing the world with “City of God” and memorably adapting “The Constant Gardener”, Fernando Mereilles adapts difficult material for his third film, “Blindness”, an unsettling commentary on social life and the lack of authentic social relation. Based on the novel by Jose Saramago, the film starts as a drama and escalates into depraved horror by the halfway mark. Although it’s not thematically complex and doesn’t truly interrogate notions of intimacy and (in)sight, the film is effective in a cold, detached way in how it, like other films before it, shows humans as capable of great wrongdoing but also of self-sacrifice. Not an easy watch, and not particularly mentally stimulating, but rather captivating.
Township
With hype strong enough to split the atom, “District 9” arrives in South African theatres following a blistering opening in the United States. Not only has it already proven to be a highly profitable film, but the critics adore it. At CHUD, Devin Faraci announced it as one of the best films of its type of the decade (10 out of 10), while HitFix’s Drew McWeeny (aka Moriarty from AICN) likened his experience of the film to watching “Robocop” for the first time. Furthermore, there’s lots of award talk and acclaim for star Sharlto Copley, who makes his acting debut in this film, and deserves every positive comment allocated to his performance.
Before I review the film, I’d like to quickly get this out of the way: “District 9” is not a South African film, just like “Tears of the Sun” is not a Nigerian film and “Black Hawk Down” isn’t a Somali war movie. Like those films, “District 9” is an American movie. It’s directed by Neill Blomkamp, who is South African born and, according to some of the trades, based the move on the apartheid atrocities he’d witnessed. Oh please. Blomkamp is now 29, which means that he started seeing and noticing things outside of his own individual child universe by 1989 or 1990 – two years before Madiba’s release, and a mere four years before South African became a democracy.
But I digress.
“District 9” is produced by Peter Jackson; the effects were mostly handled by a shop in Canada; the film is modelled according to a familiar pattern (not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just saying). I repeat, it’s not a South African film – it’s funding is one hundred percent American. Now let’s stop calling it a great South African movie. It’s not South African and it’s no masterpiece.
The highest compliment I can give “District 9” is to call it a solid popcorn movie with a social conscience which employs seamless visual effects and a stunning performance by Copley to tell the story of a pencil pusher put in charge of a dangerous alien relocation program. Blomkamp knows what he’s doing – he probably knows Joseph Camopbell off by heart - and Jason Cope’s work as the prawn(s) is near unbelievable. It’s the kind of SF actioner that effectively adds to the body horror subgenre and ends up being a memorable mainstream cinema experience.
Now, here be spoilers. I assume that you’ve seen the film from this point on.
Wikus gets sprayed with an alien juice in the film’s first act, and you just know the payoff of that scene is close. He starts transforming into a prawn which enables him to use alien weapon technology (which is never used by the aliens themselves? Not even against the Nigerians?) This obviously creates a rift between him and his wife, poorly played by Vanessa Haywood, who sticks out as a sore thumb in the film’s cast. If Blomkamp and cowriter Terri Tatchell had completely cut this character out and made Wikus a bachelor, nothing that is essential to the character or the story would have changed. All in all, I think Blomkamp, who clearly knows his genre, could’ve used a different shot than his current final shot of the now fully transformed Wikus folding metal flowers on a scrapheap. It was almost “Wall-E”-esque, and didn’t quite fit.
For all of its apparent originality, there are still many clichés in “District 9”. For one, there’s the one-dimensional uber-villain who does nothing but grimace and frown and swear. This is the type of character that exists simply for audience gratification and the payoff they experience when he is literally torn to bits by the prawns. The film also uses the “other beings like eating quirky stuff” rule, which here means that the aliens like cat food. Apparently they also like human flesh, so what gives? Why cat food? If you want to make the film more 'South African' – to an extent – why not make them eat marog or pap?
I suspect that the discussions on how good “District 9” actually is will split fanboys from other filmatists. This happened just last year with “The Dark Knight”, where if you for a second let on that it is not The Best Film of All Time, you were verbally assaulted and lambasted for a long while. Usually, fanboys know a lot about Their Film, and they truly dearly love it, but they can’t put it in any kind of context, which is why they can usually foam at the mouth at you when you criticise Their Film, but not much else.
You wish all commercial movie enterprises were made like this: rather cheap but great looking, emotionally involving and with numerous sequel possibilities. The story is simple but quite captivating, starting out in a documentary approach which works like a charm until it’s quietly abandoned for a more straight forward storytelling device where we are aligned exclusively with our hero, Wikus van der Merwe (Copley). It’s a more layered story than anything Emmerich could envision. “District 9” is at times brutal, touching and heroic. Of all the possible comparisons already made, I can’t get past thinking of the film as a distant cousin to Verhoeven’s “Starship Troopers”. Things go splat there, too. Much has been made of the film’s social commentary (apartheid, xenophobia) but seeing as the film is not at all subtle about its message, one shouldn’t over emphasise those themes over what happens to Wikus, and how his journey gives new life to the aliens-on-earth SF subgenre.
Do you want to know more? www.wikus.co.za
Before I review the film, I’d like to quickly get this out of the way: “District 9” is not a South African film, just like “Tears of the Sun” is not a Nigerian film and “Black Hawk Down” isn’t a Somali war movie. Like those films, “District 9” is an American movie. It’s directed by Neill Blomkamp, who is South African born and, according to some of the trades, based the move on the apartheid atrocities he’d witnessed. Oh please. Blomkamp is now 29, which means that he started seeing and noticing things outside of his own individual child universe by 1989 or 1990 – two years before Madiba’s release, and a mere four years before South African became a democracy.
But I digress.
“District 9” is produced by Peter Jackson; the effects were mostly handled by a shop in Canada; the film is modelled according to a familiar pattern (not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just saying). I repeat, it’s not a South African film – it’s funding is one hundred percent American. Now let’s stop calling it a great South African movie. It’s not South African and it’s no masterpiece.
The highest compliment I can give “District 9” is to call it a solid popcorn movie with a social conscience which employs seamless visual effects and a stunning performance by Copley to tell the story of a pencil pusher put in charge of a dangerous alien relocation program. Blomkamp knows what he’s doing – he probably knows Joseph Camopbell off by heart - and Jason Cope’s work as the prawn(s) is near unbelievable. It’s the kind of SF actioner that effectively adds to the body horror subgenre and ends up being a memorable mainstream cinema experience.
Now, here be spoilers. I assume that you’ve seen the film from this point on.
Wikus gets sprayed with an alien juice in the film’s first act, and you just know the payoff of that scene is close. He starts transforming into a prawn which enables him to use alien weapon technology (which is never used by the aliens themselves? Not even against the Nigerians?) This obviously creates a rift between him and his wife, poorly played by Vanessa Haywood, who sticks out as a sore thumb in the film’s cast. If Blomkamp and cowriter Terri Tatchell had completely cut this character out and made Wikus a bachelor, nothing that is essential to the character or the story would have changed. All in all, I think Blomkamp, who clearly knows his genre, could’ve used a different shot than his current final shot of the now fully transformed Wikus folding metal flowers on a scrapheap. It was almost “Wall-E”-esque, and didn’t quite fit.
For all of its apparent originality, there are still many clichés in “District 9”. For one, there’s the one-dimensional uber-villain who does nothing but grimace and frown and swear. This is the type of character that exists simply for audience gratification and the payoff they experience when he is literally torn to bits by the prawns. The film also uses the “other beings like eating quirky stuff” rule, which here means that the aliens like cat food. Apparently they also like human flesh, so what gives? Why cat food? If you want to make the film more 'South African' – to an extent – why not make them eat marog or pap?
I suspect that the discussions on how good “District 9” actually is will split fanboys from other filmatists. This happened just last year with “The Dark Knight”, where if you for a second let on that it is not The Best Film of All Time, you were verbally assaulted and lambasted for a long while. Usually, fanboys know a lot about Their Film, and they truly dearly love it, but they can’t put it in any kind of context, which is why they can usually foam at the mouth at you when you criticise Their Film, but not much else.
You wish all commercial movie enterprises were made like this: rather cheap but great looking, emotionally involving and with numerous sequel possibilities. The story is simple but quite captivating, starting out in a documentary approach which works like a charm until it’s quietly abandoned for a more straight forward storytelling device where we are aligned exclusively with our hero, Wikus van der Merwe (Copley). It’s a more layered story than anything Emmerich could envision. “District 9” is at times brutal, touching and heroic. Of all the possible comparisons already made, I can’t get past thinking of the film as a distant cousin to Verhoeven’s “Starship Troopers”. Things go splat there, too. Much has been made of the film’s social commentary (apartheid, xenophobia) but seeing as the film is not at all subtle about its message, one shouldn’t over emphasise those themes over what happens to Wikus, and how his journey gives new life to the aliens-on-earth SF subgenre.
Do you want to know more? www.wikus.co.za
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The dragon is hungry
John Patrick Shanley's "Doubt" is a riveting, tense film adaptation of his critically acclaimed play. Set in 1964, the film shows the rippling devastation of rumour and gossip. But what if what's said is not rumour and instead of gossip, is shockingly true?
Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) rules her Catholic school with an iron hand; any trangression, no matter its size and severity, is utterly punishable. In contrast, new arrival Sister James (Amy Adams) is friendly and gets on rather well with the students. One day, Sister James sees Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman, who is possibly the second best actor in his age group working right now, after one Daniel Day Lewis), the well-liked priest, put something in a student's locker (at least, she thinks she sees what she sees). When Sister James tells Sister Aloysius of her suspicions that Father Flynn might have an improper relationship with a male student, a storm is unleashed for all three people.
Stage plays run the risk of becoming visually tedious movies, but this is not the case in "Doubt". Renowned cinematographer Roger Deakins (frequent collaborator with the Coen brothers) gives the period setting and parish a crisp wintery look which contributes to the ominous atmosphere of the film. Of course, it goes without saying that the performances are all award worthy. With its investigation of the fluidity of truth (the title has numerous meanings), and of how people can twist versions of events to their own agenda, "Doubt" is spellbinding even at just over one and a half hours.
Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) rules her Catholic school with an iron hand; any trangression, no matter its size and severity, is utterly punishable. In contrast, new arrival Sister James (Amy Adams) is friendly and gets on rather well with the students. One day, Sister James sees Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman, who is possibly the second best actor in his age group working right now, after one Daniel Day Lewis), the well-liked priest, put something in a student's locker (at least, she thinks she sees what she sees). When Sister James tells Sister Aloysius of her suspicions that Father Flynn might have an improper relationship with a male student, a storm is unleashed for all three people.
Stage plays run the risk of becoming visually tedious movies, but this is not the case in "Doubt". Renowned cinematographer Roger Deakins (frequent collaborator with the Coen brothers) gives the period setting and parish a crisp wintery look which contributes to the ominous atmosphere of the film. Of course, it goes without saying that the performances are all award worthy. With its investigation of the fluidity of truth (the title has numerous meanings), and of how people can twist versions of events to their own agenda, "Doubt" is spellbinding even at just over one and a half hours.
Wild man in the ring
When Sean Penn won the Best ACtor Oscar over Mickey Rourke, I was miffed. I remember Rourke from "Johnny Handsome" and "Angel Heart", and I wanted him to seal the deal on his comeback performance as veteran wrestler Randy "The Ram" Robinson in Darren Aronofsky's "The Wrestler" by taking home gold. He didn't, but he's cast as the villain in the forthcoming "Iron Man" sequel, so I guess things worked out ok for him.
"The Wrestler" is the simplest film Aronofsky has yet made. One American critic referred to the director's style here as "meat and potatoes filmmaking". Looking at this film, it's hard to imagine as from the director of "Requiem for a Dream" (still one the best films of the past century), the experimental "Pi" and the floundering but visually impressive "The Fountain". "The Wrestler" is visually as simple as its protagonist. Randy lives in a trailer (if he can afford the rent) and sometimes parties too hard. He likes a stripper from the local joint, Pam (Marisa Tomei), and has a stenuous (near non-existent) relationship with his daughter (played by Evan Rachel Wood). Randy experiences a moment that forces him to take a hard look at his life and what he's accomplished, and there's the film. It's predictable, and we've seen too many father-daughter face-offs similar to what this film gives us, but Mickey Rourke is breathtaking in giving us a fully fleshed out fighter who's losing big; "The Ram" is emotionally and physically laid bare.
As Pam, the underrated Tomei is the female version of Randy, to an extent, and her scenes with him are sensitively handled. The combination of Rourke and Tomei is what takes "The Wrestler" to the next level (a haunting closing credits number by Bruce Springsteen helps as well). So if the story takes a familiar route, and even if the camera tends to follow Randy too much from behind, it's a memorable viewing experience for its performances and because of the rare look at the mundane mechanics that shape wrestling performances.
"The Wrestler" is the simplest film Aronofsky has yet made. One American critic referred to the director's style here as "meat and potatoes filmmaking". Looking at this film, it's hard to imagine as from the director of "Requiem for a Dream" (still one the best films of the past century), the experimental "Pi" and the floundering but visually impressive "The Fountain". "The Wrestler" is visually as simple as its protagonist. Randy lives in a trailer (if he can afford the rent) and sometimes parties too hard. He likes a stripper from the local joint, Pam (Marisa Tomei), and has a stenuous (near non-existent) relationship with his daughter (played by Evan Rachel Wood). Randy experiences a moment that forces him to take a hard look at his life and what he's accomplished, and there's the film. It's predictable, and we've seen too many father-daughter face-offs similar to what this film gives us, but Mickey Rourke is breathtaking in giving us a fully fleshed out fighter who's losing big; "The Ram" is emotionally and physically laid bare.
As Pam, the underrated Tomei is the female version of Randy, to an extent, and her scenes with him are sensitively handled. The combination of Rourke and Tomei is what takes "The Wrestler" to the next level (a haunting closing credits number by Bruce Springsteen helps as well). So if the story takes a familiar route, and even if the camera tends to follow Randy too much from behind, it's a memorable viewing experience for its performances and because of the rare look at the mundane mechanics that shape wrestling performances.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Desperate times, desperate measures
Courtney Hunt's debut film "Frozen River" is a minor miracle - who on earth funds this kind of film anymore? Especially if the film is a bit of a downer, considering it's lower income protagonist (played by a solid Melissa Leo) is a mother of two sons who needs to secure their new house as her husband has disappeared (presumably to Atlantic City) with their savings. She meets up with a Mohawk woman from the nearby reservation and together they bring illegal immigrants across the titular river into Quebec (I think). This is not a thriller though, and one should not be fooled by the cover blurb by Tarantino who calls it a great thriller. No, this is a character study of two women, both with much to lose, who will do what's necessary to keep going, even as the viewer understands that they are caught up in life narratives that do not end in grateful resolution. It's a low budget film, and the digital camera work serves to enhance the immediacy of the characters' crises. It's brave film, nothing brilliant, but worth sitting through.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Road to Ruin
Sam Mendes's "Revolutionary Road", based on the acclaimed novel by Richard Yates, is an incendiary take on the mundane vacuum of suburban life. This is the best film Mendes has yet made; anyone who holds "American Beauty" in higher regard needs to urgently revisit both films and be honest with themselves. The "Titanic" team of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet here destroys the romantic myth they helped propagate in James Cameron's opus; Frank and April Wheeler may have been happy at some stage, but we don't get to see that. What we see is, a mere seven minutes into the film, a significant marital blowout that sets the tone for the rest of this beautifully shot drama.
The acting on all counts is superlative. Many suspect that Winslet's Oscar win earlier this year was more for this film than "The Reader", while DiCaprio continues to build an impressive repertoire ("Aviator", "Departed"). Appearing in only two scenes, well known character actor Michael Shannon, playing an apparently mentally 'unbalanced' mathematician, delivers an award worthy performance as a brilliant man who cuts straight through the veneer of suburban joy that his own parents desperately cling to.
This is a more accomplished film than "Slumdog Millionaire". Why did it not get any Oscar love? Maybe the recession is partly to blame; "feel good movies" are awarded while those movies that force the viewer to seriously take stock of their life are ignored. Each scene in "Revolutionary Road" is spiked with the potential for destruction, and it is awe-inspiring (in a George vs Martha kind of way) to see the leads work with that potential. Although set in the 1950s, the film's commentary on marriage, the illusion of romance, the need to work to maintain that illusion and the utter risk-aversion in contemporary life rings mercilessly true.
The acting on all counts is superlative. Many suspect that Winslet's Oscar win earlier this year was more for this film than "The Reader", while DiCaprio continues to build an impressive repertoire ("Aviator", "Departed"). Appearing in only two scenes, well known character actor Michael Shannon, playing an apparently mentally 'unbalanced' mathematician, delivers an award worthy performance as a brilliant man who cuts straight through the veneer of suburban joy that his own parents desperately cling to.
This is a more accomplished film than "Slumdog Millionaire". Why did it not get any Oscar love? Maybe the recession is partly to blame; "feel good movies" are awarded while those movies that force the viewer to seriously take stock of their life are ignored. Each scene in "Revolutionary Road" is spiked with the potential for destruction, and it is awe-inspiring (in a George vs Martha kind of way) to see the leads work with that potential. Although set in the 1950s, the film's commentary on marriage, the illusion of romance, the need to work to maintain that illusion and the utter risk-aversion in contemporary life rings mercilessly true.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Help me understand
Currently showing is "Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen", a film I will not see until it reaches the dark nether of local channels in a few years' time, a film that has received such negative reviews that to walk into a cineplex where it's screening is to curse oneself.
If the film has been received with such clear disdain, why is it making so much money, and why are the people who see it and like it so desperate to defend it when one points out that the movie is bad? I don't know, but from the online shouting matches I've seen I'd say that the Trannies ("Transformers" fanboys) are at least as uncritically passionate about the Megan Fox Monument as the Twilighters are about their bloodless and lifeless sucker movie.
Maybe it is because the target market for "Transformers", which consists out of mainly young males, is not open to critical discussion of visual texts. They do not engage with film critics ("OMG, no way I'd do that, LOL!"). They are not interested in reading reviews by those who know better - and really, those who know better, know better. An opinion is meaningless and pointless unless you can back it up with some solid argumentation, and that's something the top critics, the Eberts, Rosenbaums, Emersons and Sarrises, to name a few, can do very well.
These critics have seen near everything emerging from underground Korean markets to African family dramas. They have braved all of Michael Bay's films, and understand how they work. They have, unlike Trannies, also engaged with world cinema for over 50 years. No Trannie can argue against that; it's time to acknowledge that opinion gets you to the door but only reasoned critical thinking will get you the seat inside. Michael Bay and the Trannies have barely started down the road.
If the film has been received with such clear disdain, why is it making so much money, and why are the people who see it and like it so desperate to defend it when one points out that the movie is bad? I don't know, but from the online shouting matches I've seen I'd say that the Trannies ("Transformers" fanboys) are at least as uncritically passionate about the Megan Fox Monument as the Twilighters are about their bloodless and lifeless sucker movie.
Maybe it is because the target market for "Transformers", which consists out of mainly young males, is not open to critical discussion of visual texts. They do not engage with film critics ("OMG, no way I'd do that, LOL!"). They are not interested in reading reviews by those who know better - and really, those who know better, know better. An opinion is meaningless and pointless unless you can back it up with some solid argumentation, and that's something the top critics, the Eberts, Rosenbaums, Emersons and Sarrises, to name a few, can do very well.
These critics have seen near everything emerging from underground Korean markets to African family dramas. They have braved all of Michael Bay's films, and understand how they work. They have, unlike Trannies, also engaged with world cinema for over 50 years. No Trannie can argue against that; it's time to acknowledge that opinion gets you to the door but only reasoned critical thinking will get you the seat inside. Michael Bay and the Trannies have barely started down the road.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Genre mashups
“Teeth” doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is it a satire of small town morality, or a parody of American culture’s emphasis on female adolescent processes, or a jab at the male fear of the devouring female, or a horror entry with both blood and brains? In appearing to try to be all of these, “Teeth” fails at all of them and becomes, in a missed opportunity, just another schlock-horror with a killer who wields a vagina, not a machete. Although the film was an audience favourite on the festival circuit, it’s hard to see what everyone got so excited about. It’s badly written with a lame, unimaginative ending, and despite a game cast, it will be remembered as simply the movie with the many close-ups of bleeding penis stumps.
Acclaimed American playwright David Mamet is as well known for his movies as his plays. “Redbelt”, starring Chiwitel Ejiofor as a righteous martial arts trainer who becomes involved in dirty dealings, may not be one of his best, but it’s the kind of martial arts movie that art house audiences may actually watch where the hero is introspective, doesn’t fight a lot, and puts ethics before violence. The film moves at a brisk pace and the bad cover art design shouldn’t put anyone off of renting the movie. I imagine it is the finest possible version of “Best of the Best”.
Acclaimed American playwright David Mamet is as well known for his movies as his plays. “Redbelt”, starring Chiwitel Ejiofor as a righteous martial arts trainer who becomes involved in dirty dealings, may not be one of his best, but it’s the kind of martial arts movie that art house audiences may actually watch where the hero is introspective, doesn’t fight a lot, and puts ethics before violence. The film moves at a brisk pace and the bad cover art design shouldn’t put anyone off of renting the movie. I imagine it is the finest possible version of “Best of the Best”.
Oscars revisited for the first time
Finally.
Ron Howard, a director often derided for being a very “commercial” filmmaker (somewhat unfairly, I think), makes the David Frost–Richard Nixon post-Watergate interview into a compelling piece of historical fiction. The film is two-thirds build up and one third interview, but the characters are fully realised and the film avoids pigeonholing Nixon as a buffoon and Frost as a nimble Brit. Both are has-beens-to-be and in equal need of something to make a lasting impression on history, and the interview is it, as it culminates in one of the most fascinating moments in American history. Even more fascinating is an apparently fictitious phone call between Nixon and Frost shortly before the interview, a conversation that deftly reveals a lot about both speaker and listener.
“Slumdog Millionaire” is Danny Boyle’s Oscar little-engine-that-could, an Indian fantasy originally intended for DVD that ended up making millions and winning numerous top awards. The film is well made if over edited; the film seems a bit too audience friendly and formulaic – and if anyone says it’s not formulaic but “strikingly original”, they’re dead wrong. It’s a good movie with potentially star making turns for Dev Patel and Freida Pinto, but hardly worthy of the heap of acclaim it’s gathered.
Watching the first act of David Fincher’s “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”, a more meditative spin on “Forrest Gump”, I thought I was watching one of the most meticulously crafted, well structured and simply magical films in recent memory. That impression lasted more or less in tact until the third act, which takes the story of Benjamin Button and does very little that’s impressive with it. Kudos to the special effects and make-up teams, as well as to the luminous females of the film: Cate Blanchett as Button’s primary love interest; Tilda Swinton, who has one of the film’s best scenes; and Taraji P. Henson as Button’s guardian. Of the three nominees mentioned in this entry, this is the film that most deserved the Best Picture Oscar.
Ron Howard, a director often derided for being a very “commercial” filmmaker (somewhat unfairly, I think), makes the David Frost–Richard Nixon post-Watergate interview into a compelling piece of historical fiction. The film is two-thirds build up and one third interview, but the characters are fully realised and the film avoids pigeonholing Nixon as a buffoon and Frost as a nimble Brit. Both are has-beens-to-be and in equal need of something to make a lasting impression on history, and the interview is it, as it culminates in one of the most fascinating moments in American history. Even more fascinating is an apparently fictitious phone call between Nixon and Frost shortly before the interview, a conversation that deftly reveals a lot about both speaker and listener.
“Slumdog Millionaire” is Danny Boyle’s Oscar little-engine-that-could, an Indian fantasy originally intended for DVD that ended up making millions and winning numerous top awards. The film is well made if over edited; the film seems a bit too audience friendly and formulaic – and if anyone says it’s not formulaic but “strikingly original”, they’re dead wrong. It’s a good movie with potentially star making turns for Dev Patel and Freida Pinto, but hardly worthy of the heap of acclaim it’s gathered.
Watching the first act of David Fincher’s “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”, a more meditative spin on “Forrest Gump”, I thought I was watching one of the most meticulously crafted, well structured and simply magical films in recent memory. That impression lasted more or less in tact until the third act, which takes the story of Benjamin Button and does very little that’s impressive with it. Kudos to the special effects and make-up teams, as well as to the luminous females of the film: Cate Blanchett as Button’s primary love interest; Tilda Swinton, who has one of the film’s best scenes; and Taraji P. Henson as Button’s guardian. Of the three nominees mentioned in this entry, this is the film that most deserved the Best Picture Oscar.
Short cuts
I finally managed to make time for Von Trier’s “The Idiots”, the middle entry in his so-called “Golden Hearts Trilogy”. It’s as unsettling as one can expect, being a film about a group of friends (colleagues?) who spend their time “spazzing” – pretending to be mentally handicapped – as a way to, in the words of Jack Black, “stick it to the man”. Notorious for its orgy scene, “The Idiots” lacks the visual grace that the sexually compelling “Breaking the Waves” had, instead opting for breaking the cinematic illusion regularly and powerfully. And yet, none of the distancing techniques manage to distance the viewer too much; the final scene arrives with the force of a blow to the psyche as Von Trier simultaneously shows us crippling grief and the manipulative power of lies at 24 fps. All in all, the “GHT” marks a deserved watershed in Danish cinema and the Dogme movement itself.
“The Girl on the Bridge”, filmed in gorgeous black-and-white, casts Vanessa Paradis as a suicidal young woman “saved” from death by a circus knife act performer, played by French star Daniel Auteuil. The film is a simple love story unusually told; it is worth a watch for romantics who want a little edge to their dramas, though it’s far from unforgettable.
Chen Kaige’s “Together” is an unashamedly sentimental film about a peasant father who will do anything to realise his son’s musical talent. The film treads familiar territory and one expects most of what happens to happen (family feuding, family secrets revealed, the slightly bonkers music teacher with a nemesis) but Chen handles the material well enough that the final payoff will bring a quiver to just about anyone’s eye.
Acting powerhouses Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney lend their talents to the dark family comedy “The Savages” as siblings who need to figure out not only what to do about their increasingly demented father, but with their own lives. The films makes for rather heavy viewing, presenting the viewer with images of smoke trailing against a grey sky and gloomy conversations about life’s purpose. That said, the acting is superlative, the writing observant and dry, and the cinematography crystal clear and to the point.
“The Girl on the Bridge”, filmed in gorgeous black-and-white, casts Vanessa Paradis as a suicidal young woman “saved” from death by a circus knife act performer, played by French star Daniel Auteuil. The film is a simple love story unusually told; it is worth a watch for romantics who want a little edge to their dramas, though it’s far from unforgettable.
Chen Kaige’s “Together” is an unashamedly sentimental film about a peasant father who will do anything to realise his son’s musical talent. The film treads familiar territory and one expects most of what happens to happen (family feuding, family secrets revealed, the slightly bonkers music teacher with a nemesis) but Chen handles the material well enough that the final payoff will bring a quiver to just about anyone’s eye.
Acting powerhouses Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney lend their talents to the dark family comedy “The Savages” as siblings who need to figure out not only what to do about their increasingly demented father, but with their own lives. The films makes for rather heavy viewing, presenting the viewer with images of smoke trailing against a grey sky and gloomy conversations about life’s purpose. That said, the acting is superlative, the writing observant and dry, and the cinematography crystal clear and to the point.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
It's... it's full of stars
Charlie Kauffman's "Synechdoche, New York" deserves an essay, not a review. I cannot write that essay right now, so this will have to do. "S, NY" is about Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman), an acclaimed playwright whose life begins to disintegrate/intensify/evolve. It's about life, death, age, ego, the unconscious, theatre-making, acting, pretending, sex. It's a rich, complex film that I will justly campaign for as an example of a MAM (Modern American Masterpiece). There aren't many of those around. Moviegoers with a distaste in intellectual adventurism need not apply.
Clawed
I have noticed with concern the negative critical reception of "Wolverine", a film I will in all probability not see on the big screen due to time constraints (I'll go for "Star Trek" instead). From what I've read the production was fraught with problems, so much so that Richard Donner - he who made us believe that a man can fly and gave life to Riggs and Murtaugh - was called in to assist (clean up?). All of this puts director Gavin Hood in an unfortunate position; it seems that he may become known as the guy who made the mundane superhero movie after the high-flying "Iron Man" and blockbuster-of-blockbusters "The Dark Knight". American critics who lauded his overrated "Tsotsi" as a Great Film are sorely disappointed with this commercial outing, not because it's commercial but because it's bad commercial filmmaking. Does this mean that Hood's position in Hollywood has been compromised?
"Wolverine" had a massive box-office opening weekend not only in the States but also in "foreign markets". Big box-office is, sadly, more important than good filmmaking, which is why Dark Horizons is already reporting that producer-star Hugh Jackman has greenlit pre-production on "Wolverine 2", or "X-Men Origins: Wolverine: More Origins: Japanese Story". Phew. Now to wait and see whether Hood'll be involved.
"Wolverine" had a massive box-office opening weekend not only in the States but also in "foreign markets". Big box-office is, sadly, more important than good filmmaking, which is why Dark Horizons is already reporting that producer-star Hugh Jackman has greenlit pre-production on "Wolverine 2", or "X-Men Origins: Wolverine: More Origins: Japanese Story". Phew. Now to wait and see whether Hood'll be involved.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Shorts
Star rating out of 4*:
"Kung Fu Panda" - lightweight, better than expected CGI martial arts comedy; ***
"The Band's Visit" - beautfully quiet, gentle meditation on human interaction; *** 1/2
"Rescue Dawn" - very accessible Werner Herzog film based on true Vietnam escape story; ***
"Vantage Point" - moderately interesting action pic that plays with perspective; ** 1/2
"Taken" - Liam Neeson is a good, one-dimensional action hero in an indistinghuished film; **
"Get Smart" - better than expected spy spoof gets moderate laugh ratio; ** 1/2
"Horton Hears a Who" - mediocre animated adaptation of Dr Seuss, lacks a story; **
"Tropic Thunder" - comic blockbuster featuring top-notch Tom Cruise; ***
"Pineapple Express" - supremely entertaining hash-comedy with an award-worthy performance by James Franco; ***
"Kung Fu Panda" - lightweight, better than expected CGI martial arts comedy; ***
"The Band's Visit" - beautfully quiet, gentle meditation on human interaction; *** 1/2
"Rescue Dawn" - very accessible Werner Herzog film based on true Vietnam escape story; ***
"Vantage Point" - moderately interesting action pic that plays with perspective; ** 1/2
"Taken" - Liam Neeson is a good, one-dimensional action hero in an indistinghuished film; **
"Get Smart" - better than expected spy spoof gets moderate laugh ratio; ** 1/2
"Horton Hears a Who" - mediocre animated adaptation of Dr Seuss, lacks a story; **
"Tropic Thunder" - comic blockbuster featuring top-notch Tom Cruise; ***
"Pineapple Express" - supremely entertaining hash-comedy with an award-worthy performance by James Franco; ***
Classics debunked: Bastard in the ring
It is generally understood and acknowledged that Martin Scorsese (“Taxi Driver”, “Mean Streets”, “The Aviator”, “The Departed”) is America’s greatest living director. Some critics feel a strong emotional with the director and his film, his Italian-American Catholic upbringing often featuring in his films and often resonating with his fans. In 1981, not long after “Rocky” ran up the stairs to cheesy success, Scorsese made “Raging Bull” featuring Robert de Niro in a now legendary performance as boxer Jake la Motta, a role for which De Niro eventually picked up 60 pounds. That’s not an acting achievement, it’s madness, no matter how you try to frame it as “noble” or “for the craft”.
The film, shot in black and white, isn’t easy viewing (it did make me wish that more filmmakers were brave enough to shoot in stunning b&w). La Motta is a despicable character with next to no redeeming factors. For most of the film, De Niro plays him like a bulldozer. At least there’s his second wife Vickie (Cathy Moriarty), who isn’t all that likeable herself, and Jake’s brother Joey (Joe Pesci). Here Pesci upstages De Niro for the first time; he would do so again in the 1990s gangster classic “Goodfellas”, a much more accomplished film than this one. "Raging Bull" is worth a watch but not the hype.
The film, shot in black and white, isn’t easy viewing (it did make me wish that more filmmakers were brave enough to shoot in stunning b&w). La Motta is a despicable character with next to no redeeming factors. For most of the film, De Niro plays him like a bulldozer. At least there’s his second wife Vickie (Cathy Moriarty), who isn’t all that likeable herself, and Jake’s brother Joey (Joe Pesci). Here Pesci upstages De Niro for the first time; he would do so again in the 1990s gangster classic “Goodfellas”, a much more accomplished film than this one. "Raging Bull" is worth a watch but not the hype.
Classics Debunked: Popeye’s Great Chase
In this first entry in the new “Classic Debunked” section, I will now and again take in an established movie classic and judge its worth as a superlative piece of cinema. Nothing is sacred, and if a film has dated badly or is just plain confounding (in the worst way possible), I will say so. (One day I will have the time to articulate my attack on that holiest of silver screen romances, “Casablanca”.) If a so-called classic holds up, it won’t even appear under the “Classics Debunked” heading and get its own formal review. Let the demystification begin.
In 1971, William Friedkin’s police thriller “The French Connection”, with Gene Hackman in the role of detective Popeye Doyle, won numerous Academy Awards including Best Actor for Hackman and Best Picture and Director (note that its main competition among the nominees was “A Clockwork Orange”). Supporting actor Roy Scheider was also nominated. Today, I find it difficult to see what audiences (the film was a box-office smash) and critics (Roger Ebert gives the film ****, his top rating) saw in and liked about the film. Apparently, the film is one of the “Ones that Started It All” movies. According to which side you’re on, “The French Connection” has been cited as the ur-inspiration for “24”, the “Bourne” movies and a host of other titles mostly all better than the film itself. This establishes only that the film may have historical value, but says very little about the film itself. Just because “I Spit on Your Grave” started the female vengeance horror subgenre doesn’t mean the film itself was any good.
In 1971, William Friedkin’s police thriller “The French Connection”, with Gene Hackman in the role of detective Popeye Doyle, won numerous Academy Awards including Best Actor for Hackman and Best Picture and Director (note that its main competition among the nominees was “A Clockwork Orange”). Supporting actor Roy Scheider was also nominated. Today, I find it difficult to see what audiences (the film was a box-office smash) and critics (Roger Ebert gives the film ****, his top rating) saw in and liked about the film. Apparently, the film is one of the “Ones that Started It All” movies. According to which side you’re on, “The French Connection” has been cited as the ur-inspiration for “24”, the “Bourne” movies and a host of other titles mostly all better than the film itself. This establishes only that the film may have historical value, but says very little about the film itself. Just because “I Spit on Your Grave” started the female vengeance horror subgenre doesn’t mean the film itself was any good.
The ‘I’ inside
Having missed its cinematic run and ignoring it on the shelf for many months, I finally bought “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” by Julian Schnabel and, at a whim on a rare quiet day, sat down and watched it. The term tour de force is often over used, and is very applicable here, not to Mathieu Almaric’s performance as Jean-Dominique Bauby (as good as it is), but to Schnabel’s courageous directing and the superlative camerawork by Janusz Kaminski. I will see this film many more times in the future.
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is based on the book by Jean-Dominique Bauby, who suffered a stroke at the height of his career as editor of “Elle” in France and ended up able to move only his one eye. With that one eye, he managed to write the book which details his experience as someone suffering from “locked-in syndrome”. His mind remains sharp, his thoughts clear, tragically trapped in a cage of redundant flesh. In a daring move, Schnabel forces us to see the world as Bauby does as the film begins. For some time, we struggle to focus; see only fragments of an object; we tear up; light blazes into our vision. Then, as Bauby narrates from within his mind, we get to know him as well as his family, mistress, father, and the medical professionals who help him.
Anyone who’s familiar with Bauby’s story knows how this will end; however, the film evokes expectant hope, not blunt sympathy. Schnabel and Kaminski open up Bauby’s mental world via flashbacks and flights of the imagination, often powerfully contrasting those strong images with his crumpled, ineffective body. Furthermore, Schnabel’s choice of music – often so annoying and distracting in a film – is as perfect as his choice of image. The film is a testament to the power of the medium.
Emmanuelle Seigner plays the wife who plays second fiddle to the mistress, and has a wrenching scene in this regard. Max von Sydow, now at very advanced age, gives a performance of astonishing sensitivity in two scenes with his son. The emotional potency of those scenes is elevated as one depicts Bauby in top shape, while in the second he’s near motionless and wheelchair bound. It’s remarkable how well Almaric and Sydow engage in this second scene, even considering that it was edited together during postproduction.
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is based on the book by Jean-Dominique Bauby, who suffered a stroke at the height of his career as editor of “Elle” in France and ended up able to move only his one eye. With that one eye, he managed to write the book which details his experience as someone suffering from “locked-in syndrome”. His mind remains sharp, his thoughts clear, tragically trapped in a cage of redundant flesh. In a daring move, Schnabel forces us to see the world as Bauby does as the film begins. For some time, we struggle to focus; see only fragments of an object; we tear up; light blazes into our vision. Then, as Bauby narrates from within his mind, we get to know him as well as his family, mistress, father, and the medical professionals who help him.
Anyone who’s familiar with Bauby’s story knows how this will end; however, the film evokes expectant hope, not blunt sympathy. Schnabel and Kaminski open up Bauby’s mental world via flashbacks and flights of the imagination, often powerfully contrasting those strong images with his crumpled, ineffective body. Furthermore, Schnabel’s choice of music – often so annoying and distracting in a film – is as perfect as his choice of image. The film is a testament to the power of the medium.
Emmanuelle Seigner plays the wife who plays second fiddle to the mistress, and has a wrenching scene in this regard. Max von Sydow, now at very advanced age, gives a performance of astonishing sensitivity in two scenes with his son. The emotional potency of those scenes is elevated as one depicts Bauby in top shape, while in the second he’s near motionless and wheelchair bound. It’s remarkable how well Almaric and Sydow engage in this second scene, even considering that it was edited together during postproduction.
On virginity and blood
Catherine Hardwicke’s “Twilight”, adapted from the first novel in Stephanie Meyer’s highly successful teen lit franchise, plays like an overlong TV movie about teenage illiteracy, conservatism, abstinence and embarrassingly bad make-up. The characters in this movie unleash very bad dialogue unto the cinema screen I’m sure none of them have ever cracked open a book. They say things like “You’re my drug, my heroin” (paraphrased) while looking like buffed-up, metro extras not allowed on the set of “30 Days of Night”. Robert Pattinson may be the hottest, hunkiest teen heartthrob to hit the screen in years (judging by the response of the bizarrely salivating female fan base of the books and now the film) but his character, Edward Cullen, is also one of the lamest, most castrated vampires cinema has seen to date. Danny Huston would have him for an appetiser.
See, “Twilight” is two movies in one. On the one hand, it’s a familiar girl-meets-boy story. (The girl is Bella Swan, played by Kristen Stewart, putting in a game performance and taking everything seriously.) Both are outsiders to a great extent. She wears little make-up; he wears lipstick and SPF 100. On the other hand, it’s a vampire movie, seeing as Edward belongs to a family of vampires. Since they like humans, the family feed only on animals; Edward refers to his dad as calling themselves “vegetarians”. Naturally, having an opening scene with a vampire hunting down a carrot instead of a deer would be less than exciting.
Now, I can handle a vampire movie that’s more romantic than gothic if it’s well told. “Twilight” isn’t. We see in one early scene Edward’s reaction to Bella as she enters the classroom; there’s slow-motion, flowing hair, and what looks to be a gag reflex. To the audience, it’s laughable. The film has severe structural and pacing problems. The film is far too indulging of the natural beauty of the setting and the unnatural beauty of its characters, who gaze into each other’s eyes in the school hallway, grassy meadows, in a treetop… After all, she is his “personal brand of heroin”.
The film wants us to align ourselves with the people-friendly vampires. However, during a crucial scene where there’s finally some potential for conflict, their actions fly in the face of logic and preservation. Being politically correct, human-loving creatures of the night is evidently higher on the agenda than making rational decisions.
I mentioned earlier that “Twilight” is also about sexual abstinence. There’s lots of looking, sighing, longing, fluttering and heart-beating, but as Edward tells Bella, “Once I start I won’t be able to stop” (he’s talking about sucking her blood but, you know, not). How I wished he would simply hold her and instead say: “Drink from me and live forever”. Not this guy. He’d rather climb a tree with her on his back, scaling the biggest tree (tree=phallus) in the forest to give her pleasure than do anything really dangerous, like touch her bum.
There’s more to deride still. I don’t mind films undermining established mythology, but I cannot take a vampire that glimmers as if coated with angel dust upon being struck by sunlight seriously. Especially when he bemoans his condition: “This is the skin of a killer!” Yes, well, or a fairy. Also consider the bad special effects (including 1990s wirework) that look like they’ve crossed over from an old “Star Trek” episode.
And then the make-up. Does no-one notice that the Cullens, with their bad hair and arctic complexion, look like the living dead? Probably not, since most secondary characters here behave and talk like they’re on “Seventh Heaven”. And speaking of low-rent, tired television, “Twilight” is really no better than a mediocre “Smallville” episode.
See, “Twilight” is two movies in one. On the one hand, it’s a familiar girl-meets-boy story. (The girl is Bella Swan, played by Kristen Stewart, putting in a game performance and taking everything seriously.) Both are outsiders to a great extent. She wears little make-up; he wears lipstick and SPF 100. On the other hand, it’s a vampire movie, seeing as Edward belongs to a family of vampires. Since they like humans, the family feed only on animals; Edward refers to his dad as calling themselves “vegetarians”. Naturally, having an opening scene with a vampire hunting down a carrot instead of a deer would be less than exciting.
Now, I can handle a vampire movie that’s more romantic than gothic if it’s well told. “Twilight” isn’t. We see in one early scene Edward’s reaction to Bella as she enters the classroom; there’s slow-motion, flowing hair, and what looks to be a gag reflex. To the audience, it’s laughable. The film has severe structural and pacing problems. The film is far too indulging of the natural beauty of the setting and the unnatural beauty of its characters, who gaze into each other’s eyes in the school hallway, grassy meadows, in a treetop… After all, she is his “personal brand of heroin”.
The film wants us to align ourselves with the people-friendly vampires. However, during a crucial scene where there’s finally some potential for conflict, their actions fly in the face of logic and preservation. Being politically correct, human-loving creatures of the night is evidently higher on the agenda than making rational decisions.
I mentioned earlier that “Twilight” is also about sexual abstinence. There’s lots of looking, sighing, longing, fluttering and heart-beating, but as Edward tells Bella, “Once I start I won’t be able to stop” (he’s talking about sucking her blood but, you know, not). How I wished he would simply hold her and instead say: “Drink from me and live forever”. Not this guy. He’d rather climb a tree with her on his back, scaling the biggest tree (tree=phallus) in the forest to give her pleasure than do anything really dangerous, like touch her bum.
There’s more to deride still. I don’t mind films undermining established mythology, but I cannot take a vampire that glimmers as if coated with angel dust upon being struck by sunlight seriously. Especially when he bemoans his condition: “This is the skin of a killer!” Yes, well, or a fairy. Also consider the bad special effects (including 1990s wirework) that look like they’ve crossed over from an old “Star Trek” episode.
And then the make-up. Does no-one notice that the Cullens, with their bad hair and arctic complexion, look like the living dead? Probably not, since most secondary characters here behave and talk like they’re on “Seventh Heaven”. And speaking of low-rent, tired television, “Twilight” is really no better than a mediocre “Smallville” episode.
A day in the life of
It’s one of the hottest days of the year and in Brooklyn, New York City. We meet the characters: Sal, owner of Sal’s Famous Pizza; his tow sons; Mookie, his delivery boy; the local drunk gentleman; the elderly lady taking in all the scenes from her window; Radio Raheem with his loud music emanating from his early 1990s boombox; numerous others. We understand that their roads will intersect, as they must, by the end of the day. Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing” was an Important Movie when it came out in 1990, and, having seen it now after 18 years of just not wanting to watch it, the film still works. Its closest contemporary kin is probably “Crash”, though Lee’s film has a harder yet still human edge.
“Do the Right Thing” somehow lead to Lee’s “Angry Young Man” label. But Lee isn’t angry; this film has pathos and regret and racism and futility, possible altogether mistaken for anger. If “Do the Right Thing” proves anything it’s not that Lee’s angry, but that he’s hopeful, and that he understands many of the complexities underlying racial and ethnic disharmony. The film manages to tie events together in a way that is both expected and unexpected; we know what will come, but what roles will which parties play? Can we predict social alignment so strongly just on the basis of the biology of race? With Obama in the US presidency, I’m not so sure that Lee’s film can still be described as “asking tough questions”, but it manages to present rounded characters – even if we only spend time with them for a short while, the dialogue is often rich and textured – engaging in convincing racial stereotyping and anti-stereotyping.
Stylistically, one can spot the cuts and shots that would later mark his work, specifically “The 25th Hour”. Lee’s choice of music is fitting and powerful, sometimes rising to the occasion and at other times simply underscoring the emotional tone of a scene. His recent verbal bout with Clint Eastwood left him with egg on his face, but Lee remains a director of interest. It says something that his early work in “Do the Right Thing” (it is never made clear what the right thing to do is, or who should be doing it, or how you’d know what it is to begin with) is more mature and informed than the work of many new post-2000 directors.
“Do the Right Thing” somehow lead to Lee’s “Angry Young Man” label. But Lee isn’t angry; this film has pathos and regret and racism and futility, possible altogether mistaken for anger. If “Do the Right Thing” proves anything it’s not that Lee’s angry, but that he’s hopeful, and that he understands many of the complexities underlying racial and ethnic disharmony. The film manages to tie events together in a way that is both expected and unexpected; we know what will come, but what roles will which parties play? Can we predict social alignment so strongly just on the basis of the biology of race? With Obama in the US presidency, I’m not so sure that Lee’s film can still be described as “asking tough questions”, but it manages to present rounded characters – even if we only spend time with them for a short while, the dialogue is often rich and textured – engaging in convincing racial stereotyping and anti-stereotyping.
Stylistically, one can spot the cuts and shots that would later mark his work, specifically “The 25th Hour”. Lee’s choice of music is fitting and powerful, sometimes rising to the occasion and at other times simply underscoring the emotional tone of a scene. His recent verbal bout with Clint Eastwood left him with egg on his face, but Lee remains a director of interest. It says something that his early work in “Do the Right Thing” (it is never made clear what the right thing to do is, or who should be doing it, or how you’d know what it is to begin with) is more mature and informed than the work of many new post-2000 directors.
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