“The Dark Knight” plays like a gritty crime drama inspired by Scorsese and assembled to play like philosophy-as-spectacle. It works; this is a supremely well made film. Christian Bale returns as Batman, while Heath Ledger’s blood chilling Joker is a most formidable enemy. This is logic against chaos, order against anarchy, and caught up in it is Aaron Eckhart’s Harvey Dent, a so-called “white knight” District Attorney aiming to rid Gotham City (which is stunningly realised in this film) of its suspicious Mafia elements. Let it be said that Ledger is truly magnificent, but much credit should go to the character himself, possessing no history, no origin, but who possesses a very particular view of human nature and brilliantly exploits it. Everyone – Bale, Eckhart, Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Rachel, Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine and an award worthy Gary Oldman – is at their best. They take the film and its themes seriously (and whew, there are many themes addressed here) and so do we.
The film opens with a bank robbery and for the next 145 minutes, the film oscillates between character driven moments with some sharp dialogue and the sheer spectacle of the action sequences; regarding the latter, the “transportation sequence” across the dark streets of Gotham rates as the most well crafted, well edited action set piece since Michael Mann’s “Heat” set the standard in 1995. There is time for reflection on the thematic content of the film but the movie is so packed with characters and intertwined events that the full impact of the film’s intellectual dimension only really dawned on me when I was out of the theatre. This is an achievement: intelligent entertainment on an epic scale, followed by discussions on the movie stimulated by the movie that go beyond the design of the Batsuit. (A minor – minor – complaint is that the film is so kinetic that it’s almost overwhelming.)
“Batman Begins” revitalised the tired franchise thanks to a detailed view at the vigilante’s origin, in particular the character’s psychology. “The Dark Knight” devotes no time to background information; it heads into action with all its pieces in place. We know the blues-and-blacks of Gotham, we know the stalwart Gordon, and we know how things ended with Rachel. Now things get worse. Everything action has a reaction, and here it ends in destruction and death. “The Dark Knight” seems to work in absolutes, at least according to what the characters say. However, based on what we see the film itself suggests a world that’s far more grey than black or white.
Showing posts with label Film discussion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film discussion. Show all posts
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
There’s a whip and a fedora, and a crystal skull
Warning: spoilers follow.
I watched “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” yesterday for the first time. I was unable to avoid a certain amount of spoilers beforehand, and I knew that some saw the film's box office performance as disappointing (these people need to have their credentials checked) and that many others were disappointed in the film itself. Then again, many critics loved it.
I didn’t go into the cinema completely unbiased. Yet, disappointment with any over hyped film, such as this one, is inevitable for many people and shouldn’t influence one’s own judgment. George Lucas experienced mass fan disappointment first hand with especially “The Phantom Menace”, though for me it was “Attack of the Clones” that was the series’ nadir. To say that “Indy 4”has disappointed some people is an accurate statement and an inevitable one. To say that one was disappointed by the film is not criticism and is rather meaningless in itself.
However, to say that “Indy 4”betrayed itself, well, that’s a different, more valid route. That is my point of departure for the following discussion of the film.
Spielberg, whom I hold in almost unequalled respect and admiration as an American filmmaker, managed to make the film too Spielbergian and not ‘Indy’ enough. Sure, the iconography is present – whip, fedora, by-the-numbers villains – and the iconic soundtrack is used to rousing effect. The first two thirds of the film is vintage Indy, with the good doctor fleeing Russians and encountering one of the great American dangers of the 1950s. The character has grown older and moved on with the times, as has the series itself, eschewing a nostalgia-themed opening (see “Temple of Doom”) for something quite political. In this opening scene I realized that the laws of physics, which have never been taken seriously by the Indy franchise, were completely dismissed by the fourth entry. Not a problem; this is after all, an Indiana Jones movie. And to the film’s credit, Indy is in almost every scene, delivering more trademark dry one-liners and pulling off breathtaking stunts. Harrison Ford once more gives us a solid, old-fashioned action hero whom we want to believe in.
Then Indy meets a young man, Mutt, played by Shia LeBeouf, and the two set off on an adventure that sends them to South America, where a ghost from the past shows up unexpectedly (unexpectedly, that is, if you haven’t seen the trailer or been online for the past year). There are some excellent series moments set in Peru before the film collapses into itself thanks to something that only the Spielberg-Lucas teaming can be responsible for: an alien conspiracy theory. All those stories about alien beings handing down knowledge to certain South American civilizations long gone turn out to be true. Spielberg and Lucas have been responsible for the key SF films of our time, and they just couldn’t resist making an Indy adventure film another one of those. There’s a great reference to “Raiders of the Lost Ark” early in “Indy 4”, in retrospect setting the film up to fail from the get go. No alien ship breaking free from a mountain with Indy looking on passively could ever be as impressive as people melting in the presence of the open Ark of the Covenant, escaping the Thuggees, or traversing multiple traps to get to the Holy Grail.
There is no reason why the big finale had to involve aliens, and why, as a result, the main villain – a perfectly cheesy Cate Blanchett as Russian psychic researcher and soldier (try saying that without grinning) – is dispatched with in such an unspectacular manner. The alien narrative, to me, unfolds upon the viewer like a saucer-shaped sellout, a last option, a big reveal that falls flat. (To put it into perspective, when that ‘alien knowledge-scene’ played out I inadvertently thought of “Mission to Mars”. Yes, “Mission to Mars”.)
I need to be clear that my complaints don’t come from the fact that the film isn’t “my” Indy movie, the one I’d like to have made or seen, but from a critique of the actual film as part of a ridiculously enjoyable, well crafted series of pulp-fuelled adventure films. So what worked in the film? The Indy-Mutt combination. Regarding Mutt’s entrance, I will fondly remember the Brando-reference when I revisit the film on DVD. The opening action set piece and the chase sequence in the city both got me to lean forward. (The chase that ends in the university library and the dialogue that follows, is a highlight.) Actually, a lot of everything worked until the ‘real meaning’ of the Crystal Skull kicked in, even though the film stole visually from “Last Crusade”.
What didn’t work? The alien narrative, as should be clear. Brendan Gleeson’s semi-sidekick, who is made out of British cardboard. John Hurt’s Oxley, whose dementia disappears inexplicably, even in terms of Indy movie-causality. I’m not complaining about the dodgy forest effects because dodgy visual effects, particularly rear projection visuals, are a staple of the Indy movies and just add to the fun, even here. And when the effects are good, they’re great, as in the ‘attack of the ants’ sequence. Undermining all the fun is the alien skull.
When I watch the film again, I’ll watch it knowing that it all comes to an inglorious, vapid end, with little to look forward to, something ripped off of both “Raiders” and “Last Crusade” but not nearly as potent. This isn’t just the weakest film of the four; it’s also a personal low for Spielberg, who should have known better. It’s a fine adventure film, but as an Indy film “Crystal Skull” is deeply flawed. As the film ends, Indy says something about “their treasure was knowledge”, thereby highlighting the film’s MacGuffin-defying plot device, and I thought, “Bollocks”. I suppose one can read the whole alien thing as Spielberg’s homage to the SF films of the 1950s (the saucer seems to fit the design) but that will again simply emphasise the lack of real ideas that the final 30 minutes of this film spurts out.
The authorative Roger Ebert writes in his review, “I can say that if you liked the other Indiana Jones movies, you will like this one, and that if you did not, there is no talking to you. And I can also say that a critic trying to place it into a hierarchy with the others would probably keep a straight face while recommending the second pound of sausage.“ I agree. Even with all its faults, “Indy 4” is impossible not to like. And no-one talks about “Indy” in terms of the “best”, but rather in terms of personal favourites. It is now certain that “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” is not my favourite.
I watched “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” yesterday for the first time. I was unable to avoid a certain amount of spoilers beforehand, and I knew that some saw the film's box office performance as disappointing (these people need to have their credentials checked) and that many others were disappointed in the film itself. Then again, many critics loved it.
I didn’t go into the cinema completely unbiased. Yet, disappointment with any over hyped film, such as this one, is inevitable for many people and shouldn’t influence one’s own judgment. George Lucas experienced mass fan disappointment first hand with especially “The Phantom Menace”, though for me it was “Attack of the Clones” that was the series’ nadir. To say that “Indy 4”has disappointed some people is an accurate statement and an inevitable one. To say that one was disappointed by the film is not criticism and is rather meaningless in itself.
However, to say that “Indy 4”betrayed itself, well, that’s a different, more valid route. That is my point of departure for the following discussion of the film.
Spielberg, whom I hold in almost unequalled respect and admiration as an American filmmaker, managed to make the film too Spielbergian and not ‘Indy’ enough. Sure, the iconography is present – whip, fedora, by-the-numbers villains – and the iconic soundtrack is used to rousing effect. The first two thirds of the film is vintage Indy, with the good doctor fleeing Russians and encountering one of the great American dangers of the 1950s. The character has grown older and moved on with the times, as has the series itself, eschewing a nostalgia-themed opening (see “Temple of Doom”) for something quite political. In this opening scene I realized that the laws of physics, which have never been taken seriously by the Indy franchise, were completely dismissed by the fourth entry. Not a problem; this is after all, an Indiana Jones movie. And to the film’s credit, Indy is in almost every scene, delivering more trademark dry one-liners and pulling off breathtaking stunts. Harrison Ford once more gives us a solid, old-fashioned action hero whom we want to believe in.
Then Indy meets a young man, Mutt, played by Shia LeBeouf, and the two set off on an adventure that sends them to South America, where a ghost from the past shows up unexpectedly (unexpectedly, that is, if you haven’t seen the trailer or been online for the past year). There are some excellent series moments set in Peru before the film collapses into itself thanks to something that only the Spielberg-Lucas teaming can be responsible for: an alien conspiracy theory. All those stories about alien beings handing down knowledge to certain South American civilizations long gone turn out to be true. Spielberg and Lucas have been responsible for the key SF films of our time, and they just couldn’t resist making an Indy adventure film another one of those. There’s a great reference to “Raiders of the Lost Ark” early in “Indy 4”, in retrospect setting the film up to fail from the get go. No alien ship breaking free from a mountain with Indy looking on passively could ever be as impressive as people melting in the presence of the open Ark of the Covenant, escaping the Thuggees, or traversing multiple traps to get to the Holy Grail.
There is no reason why the big finale had to involve aliens, and why, as a result, the main villain – a perfectly cheesy Cate Blanchett as Russian psychic researcher and soldier (try saying that without grinning) – is dispatched with in such an unspectacular manner. The alien narrative, to me, unfolds upon the viewer like a saucer-shaped sellout, a last option, a big reveal that falls flat. (To put it into perspective, when that ‘alien knowledge-scene’ played out I inadvertently thought of “Mission to Mars”. Yes, “Mission to Mars”.)
I need to be clear that my complaints don’t come from the fact that the film isn’t “my” Indy movie, the one I’d like to have made or seen, but from a critique of the actual film as part of a ridiculously enjoyable, well crafted series of pulp-fuelled adventure films. So what worked in the film? The Indy-Mutt combination. Regarding Mutt’s entrance, I will fondly remember the Brando-reference when I revisit the film on DVD. The opening action set piece and the chase sequence in the city both got me to lean forward. (The chase that ends in the university library and the dialogue that follows, is a highlight.) Actually, a lot of everything worked until the ‘real meaning’ of the Crystal Skull kicked in, even though the film stole visually from “Last Crusade”.
What didn’t work? The alien narrative, as should be clear. Brendan Gleeson’s semi-sidekick, who is made out of British cardboard. John Hurt’s Oxley, whose dementia disappears inexplicably, even in terms of Indy movie-causality. I’m not complaining about the dodgy forest effects because dodgy visual effects, particularly rear projection visuals, are a staple of the Indy movies and just add to the fun, even here. And when the effects are good, they’re great, as in the ‘attack of the ants’ sequence. Undermining all the fun is the alien skull.
When I watch the film again, I’ll watch it knowing that it all comes to an inglorious, vapid end, with little to look forward to, something ripped off of both “Raiders” and “Last Crusade” but not nearly as potent. This isn’t just the weakest film of the four; it’s also a personal low for Spielberg, who should have known better. It’s a fine adventure film, but as an Indy film “Crystal Skull” is deeply flawed. As the film ends, Indy says something about “their treasure was knowledge”, thereby highlighting the film’s MacGuffin-defying plot device, and I thought, “Bollocks”. I suppose one can read the whole alien thing as Spielberg’s homage to the SF films of the 1950s (the saucer seems to fit the design) but that will again simply emphasise the lack of real ideas that the final 30 minutes of this film spurts out.
The authorative Roger Ebert writes in his review, “I can say that if you liked the other Indiana Jones movies, you will like this one, and that if you did not, there is no talking to you. And I can also say that a critic trying to place it into a hierarchy with the others would probably keep a straight face while recommending the second pound of sausage.“ I agree. Even with all its faults, “Indy 4” is impossible not to like. And no-one talks about “Indy” in terms of the “best”, but rather in terms of personal favourites. It is now certain that “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” is not my favourite.
Call it, friendo
The Coen brothers’ much lauded “No Country for Old Men” (“NCFOM”), finally seen by me only after having read Cormac McCarthy’s novel “The Road”, is a stunning piece of filmmaking. It’s difficult to talk about the movie in the traditional review format – who made it and why, what the basic plot mechanisms are, who plays who, and so on. Rather, I’ll make a few observations on what the film is and how it is and probably leave it at that for the time being.
Javier Bardem may have won the Oscar, deservedly so, for his portrayal of Chigurgh, but everyone in this film is in top form. Tommy Lee Jones as the sheriff, Ed Tom Bell (a perfect name for an American lawman, if you ask me); Josh Brolin as Moss, who finds a case of money in the aftermath of a drug-related bloodbath. There are smaller yet vitally important performances: Kelly Macdonald, who plays Mrs. Moss, seems rather simple at the outset, yet she is the one who resists Chigurgh’s sense of order; Barry Corbin, nearly unrecognizable, shows up late in the film as an acquaintance of Bell’s whose dialogue brings together some important thematic strands in a grand way; Woody Harrelson as the corporate fixer-of-sorts who has seen Chigurgh and lived but also knows that, as the movie keeps reminding us, “you can’t stop what’s coming”.
Chigurgh.
Age.
Death.
From its opening shots – a beautiful arrangement courtesy of Roger Deakins – “NCFOM” has an air of menace that is almost breathable. How apt that it’s Bell’s narration that opens the film, and brings everything to an end as well, functioning as a solid yet fluid bookending. Chigurgh, who is said by some to be the film’s villain, kills his first victim barely five minutes in. Many more die, and you realise that any character can face death at any moment in the film. There is a scene, one of the film’s best, one of the year’s best, between Chigurgh and a gas station manager that tells us all we need to know about Chigurgh and the constant negotiation between life and death that makes up human existence.
With this in mind, Jim Emerson has loosely referred to “NCFOM” as an “existentialist thriller”, but he and other critics acknowledge that you cannot squeeze the movie into a genre, label it and put it away. What may seem to be a crime thriller, straight and simple, is a complex treatment of existence and fate – everything is a coin toss, every decision has an unavoidable outcome. All the characters come to know this. And it is further problematic to label the characters, too, since none of them fit a certain stereotype. Bell is not a typical policeman; he’s contemplative, reflective, and knows what’s in store for him (see the clever showdown set-up for a showdown that never happens close to the film’s end).
Bell does have a strong sense of justice, but then so does Chigurgh, who is a rather moral character and who is the most potent screen psychopath since Frank Boothe donned an oxygen mask in “Blue Velvet” in 1986. Yes, I purposefully omit the eponymous dr. Lecter; Hannibal has nothing on Chigurgh. Lecter you can analyse, you can find motives in his past and future that drive him (see the lesser prequels), you can even use his intellect to direct an investigation. You cannot do any of that with Chigurgh because you can’t and don’t understand Chigurgh. He doesn’t have the audience-friendly traits that we’ve come to associate with movie killers in the post-Lecter era. Depending on who you agree with, Chigurgh is (a) Death, (b) a supernatural force such as a ghost, (c) a living, breathing psychopath who has come to be (or was born) pure evil, or (d) all of the above.
Isn’t Moss the main character of the film? To an extent yes, but mostly as an example of what happens when you try to avoid “what’s coming” before he disappears. The relationship between Moss, who makes an active decision and then attempts to deny the consequences, Bell and Chigurgh, is what mainly constitutes the philosophical frame of the film.
The characters, themes and philosophy of “NCFOM” may come from McCarthy’s prose, but the Coen brothers make the text their own by giving it powerful visual life. These are master craftsmen at work. We have witnessed their talents over a variety of films, many of which are cult classics – the pacifist-bowling comedy “The Big Lebowski”, the men of constant sorrow in the hilarious “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”, the blood-soaked snowscapes of “Fargo”. But the brothers have usually been best working with more somber material – witness the ‘mobster drama’ “Miller’s Crossing”. “NCFOM” is a crowning achievement coming after so much work. The visual motifs alone in this film are worth a dozen discussions – the coin(s), doors (exits/entrances), invasions, feet (of dead men, of live men, of wounded men); there is so much blood in the film (though never gratuitous) that it too becomes a visual metaphor for life, death, loss, waste and taint. Jim Emerson and his perceptive readers have discussed the above sufficiently.
“NCFOM” brings much to the table worthy of discussion, which alone makes it worth seeing. At the risk of sounding clichéd, it’s an experience not easily shaken and demanding multiple viewings. Many films, good and bad, have dealt with similar themes before, but seldom with such perfect timing, performances, writing and execution, and seldom in such rich, elegiac form.
Javier Bardem may have won the Oscar, deservedly so, for his portrayal of Chigurgh, but everyone in this film is in top form. Tommy Lee Jones as the sheriff, Ed Tom Bell (a perfect name for an American lawman, if you ask me); Josh Brolin as Moss, who finds a case of money in the aftermath of a drug-related bloodbath. There are smaller yet vitally important performances: Kelly Macdonald, who plays Mrs. Moss, seems rather simple at the outset, yet she is the one who resists Chigurgh’s sense of order; Barry Corbin, nearly unrecognizable, shows up late in the film as an acquaintance of Bell’s whose dialogue brings together some important thematic strands in a grand way; Woody Harrelson as the corporate fixer-of-sorts who has seen Chigurgh and lived but also knows that, as the movie keeps reminding us, “you can’t stop what’s coming”.
Chigurgh.
Age.
Death.
From its opening shots – a beautiful arrangement courtesy of Roger Deakins – “NCFOM” has an air of menace that is almost breathable. How apt that it’s Bell’s narration that opens the film, and brings everything to an end as well, functioning as a solid yet fluid bookending. Chigurgh, who is said by some to be the film’s villain, kills his first victim barely five minutes in. Many more die, and you realise that any character can face death at any moment in the film. There is a scene, one of the film’s best, one of the year’s best, between Chigurgh and a gas station manager that tells us all we need to know about Chigurgh and the constant negotiation between life and death that makes up human existence.
With this in mind, Jim Emerson has loosely referred to “NCFOM” as an “existentialist thriller”, but he and other critics acknowledge that you cannot squeeze the movie into a genre, label it and put it away. What may seem to be a crime thriller, straight and simple, is a complex treatment of existence and fate – everything is a coin toss, every decision has an unavoidable outcome. All the characters come to know this. And it is further problematic to label the characters, too, since none of them fit a certain stereotype. Bell is not a typical policeman; he’s contemplative, reflective, and knows what’s in store for him (see the clever showdown set-up for a showdown that never happens close to the film’s end).
Bell does have a strong sense of justice, but then so does Chigurgh, who is a rather moral character and who is the most potent screen psychopath since Frank Boothe donned an oxygen mask in “Blue Velvet” in 1986. Yes, I purposefully omit the eponymous dr. Lecter; Hannibal has nothing on Chigurgh. Lecter you can analyse, you can find motives in his past and future that drive him (see the lesser prequels), you can even use his intellect to direct an investigation. You cannot do any of that with Chigurgh because you can’t and don’t understand Chigurgh. He doesn’t have the audience-friendly traits that we’ve come to associate with movie killers in the post-Lecter era. Depending on who you agree with, Chigurgh is (a) Death, (b) a supernatural force such as a ghost, (c) a living, breathing psychopath who has come to be (or was born) pure evil, or (d) all of the above.
Isn’t Moss the main character of the film? To an extent yes, but mostly as an example of what happens when you try to avoid “what’s coming” before he disappears. The relationship between Moss, who makes an active decision and then attempts to deny the consequences, Bell and Chigurgh, is what mainly constitutes the philosophical frame of the film.
The characters, themes and philosophy of “NCFOM” may come from McCarthy’s prose, but the Coen brothers make the text their own by giving it powerful visual life. These are master craftsmen at work. We have witnessed their talents over a variety of films, many of which are cult classics – the pacifist-bowling comedy “The Big Lebowski”, the men of constant sorrow in the hilarious “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”, the blood-soaked snowscapes of “Fargo”. But the brothers have usually been best working with more somber material – witness the ‘mobster drama’ “Miller’s Crossing”. “NCFOM” is a crowning achievement coming after so much work. The visual motifs alone in this film are worth a dozen discussions – the coin(s), doors (exits/entrances), invasions, feet (of dead men, of live men, of wounded men); there is so much blood in the film (though never gratuitous) that it too becomes a visual metaphor for life, death, loss, waste and taint. Jim Emerson and his perceptive readers have discussed the above sufficiently.
“NCFOM” brings much to the table worthy of discussion, which alone makes it worth seeing. At the risk of sounding clichéd, it’s an experience not easily shaken and demanding multiple viewings. Many films, good and bad, have dealt with similar themes before, but seldom with such perfect timing, performances, writing and execution, and seldom in such rich, elegiac form.
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