Flight

I'm torn on Flight. The good parts of it are absolutely great, but the mediocre parts are...aggressively mediocre, with an ending that was insultingly safe after what we're shown for over two hours.

Let's start with the best: the plane crash sequence. It's gripping, tense, and at some points nauseating, amazingly shot and edited. Denzel Washington is also amazing, and the supporting performances (Don Cheadle, John Goodman, and Kelly Reilly) are very good as well. John Goodman is only in a few scenes, but he's a complete joy to watch, and there's a one scene wonder cancer patient that completely takes over the scene he's in.

I know some people weren't a fan of this, but I actually like that Whip didn't have some sad backstory or big excuse for his drinking and drug use. We see and hear glimpses of his past, but there's no easy explanation to why he's an addict; it's refreshing not to have a big breakdown scene where he confesses that his dad was totally mean or he was an orphan or his mother died of breast cancer or whatever. I will admit that a lot of the film after the crash is just watching Whip spiral further and further down into addiction, but I have no problem watching a character be manipulative and self-destructive for long periods of time.

Now, while I just praised the film for not explaining Whip's addictions and Kelly Reilly for her performance, I have to say, her character Nicole is terrible. She's the heroin addict with a heart of gold, obviously written in to be a foil for the seemingly irredeemable Whip. She's the one with some sort of excuse (her mother died of breast cancer), and her relationship with Whip seems completely forced. We're also introduced to her way too early; Whip doesn't meet her until after the crash, but we see her beg for heroin and overdose in her shitty apartment after an altercation with her gross landlord during the buildup to the flight. It's basically wasted time; Flight is mainly a character study, and at that point in the film there's no reason for us to be invested in her yet.

But really, that wouldn't have been so bad except for the ending. It's terrible. Without it, the film would have been okay to pretty good, but the ending suddenly turns the entire film into a hardcore Lifetime movie. What makes it even worse is that two scenes before that, we have the funniest scene in the film, where a member of the pilot's union and Whip's lawyer have to think fast to get Whip ready for his hearing. Flight wouldn't have been a fantastic movie if it had ended less cloyingly, but it certainly would have been a lot better.

Holy Motors - "The director is very French." "That explains so dang much."

I'm having a lot of trouble with Holy Motors. I saw it last Thursday at NYFF, and I'm struggling with how to even process what I watched. There is a premise to Holy Motors, but there's a lot of goofiness, ambiguity, and little explanation of exactly what you're watching. The film really expects you to be okay with just riding along with Denis Lavant's Monsieur Oscar as he goes through his various appointments as a 'performer,' and while I was with it for most of the film, the second I was pulled out of it (by something which isn't the film's fault, I should note), it became a completely frustrating experience.

There are some hints as to what the film is "about"; it begins with Carax himself opening a hidden door to a theater, looking in on an full audience. The film is bookended by clips from the early days of film. Oscar's job seems to be sort of a performance artist actor, filling roles in other peoples' lives or characters that fill a purpose. He goes from appointment to appointment in a limo containing a plethora of wigs, outfits, and makeup that transform him into each person. Though we never find out exactly who or what he works for, we do meet Oscar's direct superior and a former colleague, and their conversation reveals that the performer profession is a dying breed, at least as he and Oscar know it. Times are changing for performers, and neither Oscar nor his superior like where they are going. There is a definite nostalgia for film and filmmaking of the past, as well as a disdain for digital and CGI, and the central focus of the film is all about identity and performance in everyday life. Lavant shows this off in full force, throwing himself into every role physically and emotionally.

Fortunately, the film isn't all nostalgia; the digital cinematography is dark, crisp, and stunning, and Oscar's appointments range from shocking to emotional to just plain funny. The most memorable role is also the hardest to explain; he plays some sort of graveyard troll-thing who gobbles random objects and terrorizes the public and a photo shoot, where the photographer is taken aback by his weirdness. The entire thing is bizarre, goofy, and fun, and it's easy to just go along with the madness. There are many other moments of absurdity, some which work better than others, but nothing tops Lavant's troll kidnapping a model while the photographer chases after him orgasmically screaming "Weird! Weird! Weird!" as he tries to snap pictures of the scene.

And while that weird is fun, there are other weird moments that don't seem to fit. The goofiness in that scene is perfect, but after a while it's harder and harder to just accept what's happening without any sort of explanation or theme in sight. Along with the troll there are also some chimps, talking cars, dopplegangers, and a double suicide that has no problem showing all the blood that comes from a skull smashed against the pavement. (That last one is what shook me out of Holy Motors' groove, which isn't the film's fault, but after that I think my brain was pretty much done with following anything.) The film is a puzzle, but it feels like you're missing a few crucial pieces and every once in a while you're interrupted and given either a good cookie or some salami that's in the shape of a puzzle piece. The cookie is nice, but what the hell are you supposed to do with the salami? Eat it? Put it in the puzzle? Find some bread and make a sandwich? Eat it with the cookie? By the end I was wondering just what the hell I was even watching.

Apparently Holy Motors is easier to understand if you know Carax's backstory and his filmography; I've read that a character in one of his earlier films is played by Oscar here, and one event may be related to a tragedy in his personal life, but in my opinion, that shouldn't be a requirement to understanding what's going on in front of you. References are well and good, but I shouldn't be expected to do homework in order to have the most basic understanding of what I just watched. Of course, I may be thinking about it too much; Holy Motors is, above all else, a surrealist film, and I've never been good with those. I'll be completely honest: they frustrate me and make me feel pretty dumb. Therefore I wouldn't say that Holy Motors is bad or disjointed or even significantly flawed, but it's definitely...challenging. Carax refuses to give any concrete answers both in the film and in interviews, which comes off as very..stereotypically artsy, I guess. I don't want to say that Holy Motors is the type of artsy French film that many people imagine when you mention you're going to see a French film since that carries an annoyingly negative connotation...but the title of this post is there for a reason. (It's part of a text conversation between me and a friend right after the film.) When I left the theater, I don't think I knew much more about the film than I did going in, if that's even possible, and explaining it to anybody seems impossible. It's probably a great example of an "art film," and I'm not entirely sure if I mean that as a compliment or not.

Berberian Sound Studio

In what little I could verbalize about The Master, I spent most of it gushing about the amazing cinematography. Similarly, what is really mindblowing about Berberian Sound Studio is the sound, and how the film shows off the craft of making such a rich soundscape. The story follows Gilderoy, a sound engineer hired for an Italian film called "The Equestrian Vortex". Unfortunately, when he arrives, he finds out that the film has nothing to do with horses; The Equestrian Vortex is a graphically violent horror film which the director is convinced is nothing short of brilliance. Out of his element and working with a hostile producer and a director who considers the brutal violence to be art, he begins to lose himself in the process of bringing these sounds to life.

All we see of the film is the opening credits (taking place of a credit sequence for the actual film), but the real way we get the feel of Equestrian Vortex is by descriptions of certain scenes and the rich, disturbing, and at times nauseating soundscape that Gilderoy creates for them. Berberian Sound Studio truly shows how sound brings a film to life; Gilderoy creates crisp, descriptive sounds from fruits, vegetables, bubbling soup, sizzling oil, and aggressive ambient sound from a plethora of intimidating machines. The latter reminds me of the ambient sound from Eraserhead; it creates a cold, unsettling world both in Equestrian Vortex and the actual film, to the point where it can be nauseating.

Sound is also closely linked with violence; Equestrian Vortex is meant to be an homage to giallo films of the 70s (although in the Q&A I was at, director Peter Strickland noted that it's really closer to gothic horror than the giallo genre), which often had grisly murders, stylish camerawork, and unique soundtracks. Berberian Sound Studio could be seen as a celebration of the genre's soundtrack as well as a critique on the violence, particularly against women. Equestrian Vortex describes a variety of violence against witches and its two female protagonists, and Gilderoy spends a lot of time listening to them shriek over and over again while being belittled by the producer. While we don't see any of the violence that is filmed, we are forced to watch and listen to stabbing of vegetables, smashing of fruits, ripping of stems, and sizzling oil in lieu of murder and torture as the director tells Gilderoy that he is making art, not a horror film. Seeing the fruits and vegetables instead of the actual imagery circumvents any desensitization to onscreen violence, allowing the imagination of the viewer to put the sounds together with the descriptions of the scene.

There isn't a clear plot in Berberian Sound Studio; it is mostly about Gilderoy succumbing to the atmosphere of the sounds he has created and the hostile work environment  This works perfectly for the first two thirds of the film, but the last third slips into something which is honestly hard to describe. Gilderoy 's descent into madness comes to a head, but then there's still around half an hour that's incredibly unclear. It's obviously a 'left up to interpretation' sort of thing, but it's hard to figure out what's real enough to interpret. It's much less "ambiguous" than just plain vague, and while it's interesting to experience it, there's no real fulfillment when the credits come up. The first two acts are strong enough to make it still worth watching, but the end is a glaring flaw.

The Master

I have to admit that I have no idea how to discuss this film right now.

It was beautiful. The cinematography was stunning, the colors were so rich.

Joaquin Phoenix and Phillip Seymour Hoffman were just so...I guess powerful is the only word I can think of right now. The entire movie is about the relationship between these two men and it's so intense I don't even know what to say. They love each other, not in the way that Hoffman's character loves his wife, but some sort of deep platonic bond. Perhaps they're soulmates.

It made me emotional in a way that I really didn't expect. Their last scene together just wrecked me. I honestly don't know how to describe it.

This is a very bad post but I felt after seeing it I had to say something.

Cosmopolis

Cosmopolis is strange and fantastic.

It takes place in the world of the super-rich, in particular, Robert Pattinson's character Eric Packer and his stretch limo, the main setpiece of the film. His actual job is unclear, but it's a futuristic take on a major stockbroker. Packer is mostly concerned with two things: his own demise, both medically and financially, and getting a haircut. He is driven through the city in his high-tech stretch limo as associates, employees, and lovers stop by and his chief of security, Torval flutters over him. Torval has reasons to be worried; the president is in town, clogging the streets, there is a fledgling anarchist movement using the rat as its symbol, and someone is plotting to kill Eric. Eric, however, remains detached about everything but the unpredictability of the yuan, and his haircut.

The entire film is detached in general; the dialogue, lifted straight from the book, is clinical and dense with philosophy. Most conversations seem like monologues, a chance for the character to spout their worldview, and in some ways it's almost lyrical. The film is also divided into two distinct worlds: the car, where the vast majority of the action takes place, and the outside world, which is showing signs of civil unrest, and is where Eric's assassinator lies. Eric's world is in his car, where he has everything at his fingertips and can keep track of his quickly diminishing assets;  the outside world doesn't really matter to him. This sounds like it would make for a completely cold and flat film, especially with the equally clinical cinematography, but the flatness creates an unreal atmosphere that is truly what the film is about. The dialogue, setting, and characters are all in a world based on theory, and Eric and his colleagues are completely wrapped up in it.

Eric's car is the real barrier between the concrete and the theoretical; the best scene that describes this is when Eric meets with his financial theory adviser. She has a monologue about the nature of society and economics while a riot is going on around them; the protesters swarm the car, carrying a giant rat effigy and vandalizing the limo, and neither her or Eric responds in the slightest. As they pass through, Eric sees a person immolate himself, and her only comment is that the idea is completely unoriginal. This is a person killing himself in the most painful way possible, and her only concern is that it's been done before. In her world, all that matters is the big picture of how social unrest works; the actual people involved don't concern her.

It's easy to interpret this scene, and the film as a whole, as taking a stand against the "1%"; all of the money involved is in stocks, which fluctuate in ways that can seem like magic. Eric doesn't seem to have a concrete concept of money at all, best shown in a scene where he convinces one of his lovers to make an offer on an art gallery that she repeatedly insists is not for sale. But the economics are only a backdrop on a character study about someone who is intensely detached from the outside world. What he does and says and what he thinks is okay lead to some truly great moments (the prostate exam scene is particularly funny), and the stakes get higher as he begins to push his boundaries in a world that is actually against him. Cosmopolis isn't trying to make a statement about money, but instead exploring how a closed environment can warp a person's view of reality, and how they try to reconnect with the world outside.

A list of films, Fall/Winter 2012 edition

I have to admit, this post is much more for me than usual, (I've really been dragging my feet on a Cosmopolis post), but I thought it'd be a good idea to write out some of the films I'm interested in seeing that are coming out later this year. There's a lot of interesting stuff coming up, and I plan to try and save some cash to see a few NYFF films. ($24 for one ticket hurts!)

August (now)

• Robot and Frank: It seems like this is getting mixed reviews, but if you haven't noticed, I really like robots/androids/AI, so I'm excited to see it.
• Side By Side: I love film, and I'm really sad that it's dying out so quickly, and I'm always interested in cinematography. Learning about the processes of shooting on film and digital will be really great, and apparently Keanu Reeves is a pretty damn good interviewer. (I also still have a soft spot for him anyway after all these years.)
• Lawless: It looks interesting, Tom Hardy is in it. I haven't read any reviews of it yet, but I might try and catch it if I don't blow my money on other films (or booze, let's be honest here).

September

• The Master: I have never seen a Paul Thomas Anderson film, and to be honest, I don't think The Master is really my thing, but it's shot on 70mm and critics are freaking out about it and I should probably get on the PTA train at some point anyway. I really hope it'll be projected on the full 70mm over here.
• Looper: The fact that I haven't seen a Rian Johnson film is pretty silly, there's been a lot of buzz around this film, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Do you really need much more?
• Samsara: A very close friend recommended Baraka, which I still haven't seen. There's no 70mm screenings, apparently, but I'm positive this is something I need to see in theaters.
• Dredd: I think the twitter campaign got me, but it at least looks like my kind of fun. Also Karl Urban helps.

New York Film Festival

(note: these don't have as good reasons, to be honest, the fact that they're at the festival is usually draw enough. Either that, or I just saw a critic rave over it. Unfortunately, unless money starts falling from the sky I probably won't be able to see more than one, two if I'm lucky.)

• Caesar Must Die
• Fill the Void
• Holy Motors
• Lawrence of Arabia (restoration)

October

• Cloud Atlas: I'm really hoping this is good, because I loved the trailer, and I still believe in the Wachowskis.
• Seven Psychopaths. Yeah, I'm not going to lie, all I know about it is that it has a cool cast, including Tom Waits. Sometimes I don't have the best reasons.
• Argo: Not entirely sure about this film, but the trailer interested me, so it's another 'depends on cash' sort of thing.

December/January/whenever it comes out?

• Django Unchained: I was in love with Inglourious Basterds, and the premise of Django seems even better. I heard that the release date might get pushed back to 2013 but hopefully it'll come out before the year is over. I'm actually so excited for this that I'm trying my best to go in blind; I haven't watched a single teaser and the only images from production I've seen were by accident. I went into Inglourious Basterds not expecting much, and I'm hoping I can be pleasantly surprised by Django too.

The Animatrix - The Second Renaissance: crimes against sentience and its importance in the Matrix trilogy

So I promised I'd write something following up my Ash and David comparison, but uhhh...that might not be happening anytime soon. I've been kind of lazy in trying to get the Alien DVD, and now it's been close to a month since I saw Prometheus, so David is kind of falling out of my mind. I also meant to see Aliens just to talk about Bishop, but that never happened either. I really do want to get back to that at some point (or at least mention something about Bishop, since he seems like, chronologically, the first android in the series that doesn't try and kill anybody), but for now it's kind of on the back burner until I get around to watching Aliens or rewatching Alien.

So instead of talking about androids in the Alien franchise, I want to talk about the machines from the Matrix trilogy. Now, now, I know Reloaded and Revolutions are intensely unpopular (I still think Revolutions is decent, it just doesn't live up to the first film), but don't worry, I don't really plan to mention them. In fact, I'm not going to talk much about the first movie either (though I do love it and need to watch it again so don't be surprised if there's more Matrix talk in the future). I'm going to talk about the Animatrix, specifically The Second Renaissance segments. The other parts are all pretty good (I'm also a huge fan of World Record and Program), but The Second Renaissance has a depth and sophistication that the others do not, mostly because it tells the backstory of the world pre-Matrix. I read somewhere that its story was originally intended to be one of the other Matrix movies as a prequel, but some sort of executive meddling prevented that. I'm really torn on whether I'd like it better as a full movie or in this form. I think it definitely has enough to make a feature out of, but on the other hand, there's some powerful and disturbing imagery that I'm not even sure they could get away with in live-action.

(Interesting but unrelated: the machines were originally enslaving humans to use their brains as processors instead of using their bodies as energy, but the powers that be thought that might be too complicated for people. I almost wish they had kept it in though, at least so smartasses would stop bringing up flaws in the battery logic. Not the point!)

Personal bias in reviews, or I saw Beasts of the Southern Wild and did not enjoy it for possibly dubious reasons

Beasts of the Southern Wild has been getting a lot of critical praise ever since it debuted at Sundance back in January. The mix of two powerful performances from non-actors, the magical realism, and the setting, a poor community in Louisiana near-destroyed by an epic storm, have blown away many, many people. I am not one of them.

I’m not completely bewildered by the praise; Quvenzhane Wallis does very well as the main character, a young girl named Hushpuppy, and I was shocked to find out that the man player her father, Dwight Henry, had never acted before this film. Wallis maintains the grim stoicism that her father instills in her with childlike fantasies (this is where the magical realism comes in). Henry is menacing, cruel, charming, and heartbreaking, and I really cannot emphasize how good he is. Their community, The Bathtub, is expertly constructed, throwing the viewer into what is, for most of us, a completely alien world. There is definitely a lot to like in this film.

But I think it’s a clumsy film, and to be honest, I’m a bit uncomfortable with some of the reasons why it’s being praised. There’s a lot of praise for the cinematography, but I think that’s where I started having issues. There are amazing shots, but there’s also some completely unnecessary shakycam, the type that looks less like a style choice and more like just plain unsteadiness. There are also plenty of shots early on with distracting focus racking; I know this is super bitchy to say, but it made me feel like the focus puller had a fever and was just off his game or something. These seem like nitpicks (and they might be), but it’s the sort of thing that really takes me out of a movie, especially one that’s lauded for its imagery.

Even ignoring the cinematographical errors, I felt the metaphors in the film were extremely heavy handed. Miss Bathsheeba, Hushpuppy’s teacher, tells her students about the harsh realities of the world; nature considers everyone to be a piece of meat, and it’s an eat or be eaten situation. She tells the children about the ancient aurochs, which for the rest of the film is a visual metaphor for the flooding of The Bathtub, and possibly for climate change in general. The aurochs (which are actually the savage precursor to domesticated bovine, but are represented here as giant warthog-type creatures), are where the magical realism comes in, made into reality by Hushpuppy, but I felt like it was pretty clumsy. I don’t think I’m a huge fan of magical realism in general, but as a metaphor they felt as subtle as a bull running through a china shop, and their last scene, where they burst into actual reality, interrupt an extremely powerful moment between Hushpuppy and her father. As symbolism, it’s obvious, but still stunning imagery. As a part of magical realism, I felt it almost cheapened its effect.

But what really bothers me is something that I’m not sure I should be bothered by. The film shows this impoverished community as a jovial community who are more in touch with nature and myth than the technology and industry on the other side of the levee. They refuse to evacuate both before the storm and after it, when most of their houses and belongings are literally underwater, and are resentful when forced to live in a shelter. I guess my problem with this is easiest to describe if I mention what word often comes up when discussing it: soulful. There’s an obvious comparison being made here between the poor, yet lively and soulful people of The Bathtub, and the sterile, impersonal industrial world that force themselves on The Bathtub. I’ve read a review or two that suggests that the film criticizes the people on The Other Side for only caring about the impoverished when a disaster strikes, but frankly, I don’t see the problem and I don’t like the implication. (There’s also a very brief racial/cultural implication, a snippet where we see Hushpuppy being yelled at by a white shelter worker, dressed in a blue dress and with her usually wild hair pulled back. I wish they had elaborated on that, because it was the only thing that seemed like a valid complaint.)

It seems like they’re trying to say that these poorer people are somehow wiser because they’re not corrupted by money and technology and antibiotics, and I just don’t understand. Hushpuppy in particular has these monologues that paint her as an old soul in a child’s body; talking about life and the universe as if she’s seen it all. There’s a very frustrating disdain towards the outside world, and I can’t figure out if it’s genuinely problematic or if I’m just too privileged to “get it”. How can this film honestly expect me to understand why someone would resent being taken away from a waterlogged (and later barren) ruined shantytown to a place with clean clothes and actual medical treatment for an unnamed disease that kills one of the characters who refuses traditional treatment? Does that not make sense to anyone else, or am I too much of a middle-middle class technology addicted snob to appreciate The Simple Life? Do I actually have a valid issue with this film, or am I just mad that I’ve been forced to acknowledge the poor (or something similarly classist)? They’re tough questions that are kind of personal, but I feel that even when I’m writing an opinion piece, I have to maintain a certain amount of objectivity. Should I really be ragging on a movie because it goes against my personal sensibilities? Is that even okay? I just get the feeling of “Oh look at these poor folk, so happy and wise in their adversity! Shouldn’t we all be a little more spiritual?” and I think “No!” Isn’t that kind of reductive of the actual problems of being poor, or glorifying the The Simple Life while ignoring the fact that the characters in this movie never chose that life; it’s the cards they were dealt? Or am I just overreacting because I really hate the sort of “technology is turning us into beep boop computer zombies and we’re losing social skills and the human element” line of thinking?

I really have absolutely no idea, and it’s really frustrating me.

David 8 and Ash

I’m pretty sure on Tumblr, David 8 is the most popular character in Prometheus, and it’s not hard to see why. While I can be cynical and say that it’s because he’s played by the absolutely stunning Michael Fassbender (both in acting skill and in appearance), the fact is that David is the most interesting character in the film. There’s a lot we don’t know about him by the time the film ends, but while there’s room to speculate on his motives, he doesn’t show the lack of common sense or character inconsistency that the others do. Furthermore, he’s also the most developed character next to Shaw.

But what makes David even more interesting is when he’s compared to Ash from the original Alien. In general, I think that comparing Prometheus to Alien is a terrible idea; the two films really don’t have much in common besides the very basic premise (crew goes to planet, finds alien stuff, everything goes horribly wrong); the structure of the film and the themes are so radically different that expecting anything like Alien automatically breeds disappointment. While Prometheus still has serious problems, treating it as an Alien prequel makes it a complete failure. But it is interesting to look at David as the precursor to Ash. I read on Tumblr someone asking how Ash would be an improved version of David, and that got me thinking. On first glance, David seems like more of a success than Ash; he’s friendly  and congenial where Ash is distant and cold, he seems to be more capable of emotion than Ash (or at least has the capacity for empathy), and above all, he wants to be human (or at least accepted as such).

Think of how we meet David; even if you hadn’t seen any of the promotional material, you find out very early on that David is an android, and it’s very quickly established that he admires humans and tried to be like them. He models himself after Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia, down to meticulously dyeing his hair, and although we’re told he cannot feel emotions (which in sci-fi is almost always a lie), he shows visible disappointment when Weyland says that he can never have a soul. We are meant to empathize with David from the very beginning: he just wants to be accepted alongside other humans.

[Actually, empathizing with David is kind of how I started thinking about all of this; I was having a discussion with a friend about how Tumblr tends to want to mother characters that they sympathize with, even when they are not really a “sweet baby ____”. (I’m looking at you, Loki fangirls!) I mean, I’m not completely free of that, but there is almost definitely a sector of the internet that sees David as some sort of “sweet baby robot Pinocchio prince”, despite the fact that he does some really creepy and amoral shit. I was joking that wouldn’t it be funny if Tumblr treated Ash like some sort of “sweet baby corporate robot”? My friend replied that it would never happen because Ian Holm isn’t all handsome and pretty like Fassbender, and while that is definitely true (though idk, there’s something to be said for men Of An Older Age with brownish-grey hair and blue eyes…) there’s definitely more incentive to like David.]

don't judge me man

All of this makes sense within the film as well; David’s original purpose was created to take care of humans and work well with others, so he would naturally try to make a pleasant impression on others. He’s got these big blue eyes that kill you every time he looks hurt, and his status as a surrogate son allows him to have a unique personality compared to other androids of his same model. We learn that he’s taking orders from Weyland, but we never find out what they are, and they seem to be flexible enough that David can devote time to fixating on Shaw.

Ash, on the other hand, is pretty much the polar opposite of David. [I should note now that I’ve only seen Alien once, and that was a while ago, so I may not remember every Ash detail.] We assume he’s human for the first half of Alien, though he separates himself from the rest of the crew. He’s much shiftier than David, but while David can fall into the uncanny valley of creepy smiles, Ash’s creepiness is much more plausible as human. We can see that something is off about him, but he just seems at worst like that guy you might be a tiny bit wary of when you’re the only two in the subway car at three in the morning.

This all makes sense if you consider what Ash was presumably made for; he’s a science officer. His primary duties have little to do with social interactions, so he doesn’t bother with them. He doesn’t even really seem to like humans all that much; he’ll pass as one, but he’s much more attracted to the alien, to the point where he emulates the facehugger by trying to shove a magazine down her throat. (Of course, there’s more to that scene than pure emulation, but the rapey overtones of that scene and the facehugger could be its own article.) Ash has no desire to be human; he just plays the part when it suits him, and completely drops the façade once Ripley finds out his orders. He’s purposefully more not-human that David, automatically distancing himself from the viewer’s sympathies.

But the question is still unanswered: How is Ash an improvement over David? The improvement is Ash actually sticks to his purpose and nothing else. David is, by robot standards, unpredictable; he certainly wasn’t told to be the dream equivalent of a peeping tom, and while he may have been told to bring back the alien goo and infect someone with it, he clearly chooses Holloway out of malice (and probably jealousy). Ash fulfills two main purposes: pose as the science/medical officer for the crew, and bring the alien back at all costs, and everything he does is directly related to those orders. Some people speculate that Ash attacking Ripley is actually a malfunction, but it follows the second order; Ripley was definitely going to warn the rest of the crew, and he had to prevent that. What’s the easiest way to keep her from talking? Kill her. This isn’t to say that Ash is completely logical; once again, his choice of weapon proves that. But his desires still match up with his orders, whereas David’s were completely unrelated.

Prometheus: Sometimes my first impression is wrong

It has come to my attention that Prometheus is not a well-written movie. Like, at all. And not because it didn’t answer the questions about the Alien universe that everyone was expecting, but…the film just didn’t make that much sense; the characters either completely lost any of their common sense, or they didn’t have any in the first place. I actually didn’t mind that we don’t find out what the “Engineers” wanted or why they made humanity or why they decided to kill it off; I can deal with the idea that we weren’t meant to know (or that it doesn’t matter). I didn’t even mind most of the scientist stupidity (“Let’s take off our helmets in this unknown environment!”) And to be honest, I kind of like that the reason for the cave paintings was left unanswered. Film Crit Hulk’s article on Damon Lindelof calls this the “ ‘I want the answers!’ ‘You can’t have the answers!’” dynamic (and by the way, you all should be reading his work because it’s amazing), but personally, I felt that wasn’t important. The reasons aren’t important, but everyone’s reaction is. The main theme isn’t about the actual creation of humans, but the search for it.

The problem is that the results of the search and character reactions don’t mean anything because the characters are so inconsistent and flat. Holloway falls into a drunken depression within hours of learning that he’s right, but he can’t personally talk to an alien. He’s had this theory about intelligent life for what we assume to be years, and he’s sad because he can’t personally have a conversation with them? Sad enough to down a bottle of vodka? Really? Milburn is scared shitless by a bunch of dead alien bodies, but when he sees a live vagina monster, he’s not scared in the slightest? Janek doesn’t give a fuck about the mission, and yet he somehow figures out that the xenomorph primordial soup was a biological weapon meant to kill us? Jackson the security guy sees a twisted body that was originally in the Temple of Doom and his first reaction is “Hey, look at this” ? (Protip: if you’re ever in a scary situation and see something unusual, don’t get closer to examine it! “Hey look at this” is almost guaranteed to get you killed!) Shaw has the ability to go home, away from the alien crazy, and instead decides to go after the aliens who could kill her in a second along with the robot that’s been creeping on her for the entire movie? What?

Speaking of David, I loved him (as I do most robot characters), and he’s possibly the only nuanced character; I only wish we got more time with him. The Weyland family dynamic is really something that was shoehorned in (“Kings die someday, DAD”), and David’s devotion to his father combined with his fixation on Shaw hands down makes him the most interesting character on the ship. He’s supposed to be support for the crew, but it’s made clear very early on that he has his own agenda, and while his agenda is vague, it’s not baffling. David is driven by his desire to gain acceptance as a true son by his father, his fascination with Elizabeth, and his curiosity about alien life. The last point may be related to the first; Weyland has spent over a trillion dollars and possibly sacrificed an entire crew just to have a chance to meet the creators of the human race, and so David’s fascination may be an extension of his desire to please his father. However, it also may relate to Ash’s admiration of the alien in the original Alien; David has spent his entire life trying to be accepted as a human son, so perhaps he is curious about the first non-human creature he’s ever encountered. Poisoning Holloway may have been an experiment to see what this life form was capable of, but it is unclear whether this was part of Weyland’s plan or David’s interpretation of it. Whichever it was, the fact that Holloway is Shaw’s boyfriend was definitely a factor, and David definitely has a vastly different version of morality than anybody else on the ship.

But talking about David, Weyland, and Vickers reveals the biggest problem with Prometheus; most of the meaning derived from it is completely subjective. A lot of the things I just said were how I interpreted it, and there are a ton of different interpretations, some of which are based on prior drafts or deleted scenes from the film. Supposedly there’s going to be a director’s cut, which seems like a bit of a cop out to me. The film should make concrete sense on its own; any theory that is based on deleted scenes is automatically invalid because those scenes weren’t in the finished product. Personally, I think that David’s actions can be explained, but it’s never truly clear, and while it’s a much more interesting mystery than why the Engineers try to kill off humanity, it’s still an important element of the film that’s kind of left dangling. I can say that David’s lack of morals is an example of the non-humanity that he struggles with for the entire film, but I don’t really know if I’m not intended to be sure of that or if Ridley Scott and Damon Lindelof don’t know either, or just don’t care. I think comparing Prometheus to Alien is pretty unfair (they’re only tangentially related at best, and Alien is tightly focused whereas Prometheus is intentionally sprawling), but Ash is given a clear and direct purpose: bring the alien back to earth at all costs, and in retrospect, everything he does comes back to that directive. David has much more of a developed personality than Ash underneath his congenial demeanor, with his own wants, but that makes his motives much more unclear.

And that’s really the thing about Prometheus; I liked it at first, but what I was interested in (besides the amazing cinematography) was more the seeds of ideas instead of something truly concrete. I still wouldn’t say it’s a bad movie by any means, but it’s definitely more vague than it should be.

The Mansion scene in Shutter Island

I recently posted my entire final paper for my film theory class, spurred by rewatching Shutter Island. I enjoy the movie overall, but I just feel like there’s still more I want to write about it. Every time I try and watch it, I get stuck watching one scene on repeat. Apparently I’m not the only one who’s captivated by it; there are two videos on youtube of it labeled “Shutter Island best scene.” It’s only the fourth or so scene in the film, where Teddy and Chuck are invited to Dr. Crawley’s mansion. It’s a beautiful scene on its own; the music and imagery come together amazingly, but it’s the acting that ties everything together, particularly on repeat viewings. The scene can be viewed here; it’s early enough that it’s not a spoiler, though I will be spoiling the film when I talk about it. This post also has no proper ending because I do what I want.

Camera, mind, and belief: apparatus and ideology as used in the films of Martin Scorsese

I was rewatching Shutter Island and thinking about writing a post about the great nuances, both in the construction of the film and the performances. Then I realized that I pretty much already did, in my final paper for my film theory class in my senior year of college. I don't usually feel comfortable posting my academic work online (how can I compare to people who actually know what they're doing?), but a friend convinced me to do so. So here's a 12-ish page paper on Scorsese, subjective reality, and the ideal American male.

Iron Man 2 - A lot of individually good stuff that doesn't fit well together

Iron Man 2 is a messy movie with a lot of individually good scenes, which makes a lot more sense once you learn that it's really two films mashed together: the second Iron Man story that Jon Favreau wanted to tell, where Tony Stark begins to spiral out of control as the world reacts to Iron Man, and the Avengers set up that Marvel wanted. While I'm not blaming the issues of this film entirely on the Avengers setups, they certainly don't help.

It's not as if the Avengers are incompetently shoehorned in; Nick Fury is really only in one scene, Black Widow has a plausible enough role, and they do play an important part in the plot. But it's still an unnecessary complication; something which could have been written more organically into the plot. And really, though I understand that of course Black Widow's supposed to be terse and somewhat cold, since she's a spy and only has to mildly tolerate Tony, the character just comes across as very flat, almost as if she's just there for set up and a cool lady in a catsuit fight scene.

I have to admit, when I first heard that the film wasn't up to the first one's level, I thought it would have to do with the double villains, but I'm convinced that's one part they got right. So many other comic book films fall into the trap of having two or three villains and not doing any of them true justice (I'm looking at you, Spider-man 3!), but Ivan Vanko and Justin Hammer not only both work as villains, they work well together. Sam Rockwell is amusingly awkward, pathetic, and despicable as weapons company rival Justin Hammer, and even ignoring my huge soft spots for anti-villains and Mickey Rourke, he's great as the Russian scientist out for revenge on Tony Stark. They play amazingly off each other as some sort of bizarre team-up/odd couple without devolving completely into comedy villains; I think they have some of the best chemistry in the film. I can only hope that more movies with multiple villains take a look at their dynamic, because there was obviously a lot of thought and care put into it.

The main reason Iron Man 2 doesn't live up to the original is that the components don't all fit together and are occasionally held together with cliches.

Okay, that was two things, but to be fair, the cliche thing is more of an opinion/pet peeve of mine than an actual concrete complaint. Let's focus on what we know. There are at least four components to the story.

1.  Tony Stark is spinning out of control and doesn't know how to express it
2.  Iron Man has had enough of an effect on world politics that the government wants take control of it 
3.  Iron Man has become a symbol of power that is, in a way, separate from Tony Stark the man 
4.  So uhhh, there's this franchise we're planning on starting...

We already spoke about #4, but it's not hard to see that it doesn't quite fit with the other three. The closest it would get to is #2, but the film keeps those wildly separate; there's "The Government', who wants the Iron Man tech, and SHIELD, who the audience already knows is collecting superheroes, but is presented textually as something more clandestine and mysterious. In a way, it's odd, because it assumes that the Senate at least has no idea about SHIELD, or else they'd be concerned with the Avengers business just as much. Fury and Black Widow exist in a bureaucratic vacuum, which is strange in a story so concerned with government intervention.

#2 and #3 easily go hand in hand, but the problem is that while #3 is well expressed throughout the film, through both the Senate hearing and Ivan Vanko's role in the story, #2 isn't really touched upon besides the Senate hearing scene early in the film. We hear that Iron Man has solved conflicts around the world, and Tony certainly has decided that he has "privatized world peace", but there's not enough showing us the actual impact that Iron Man has had, and that's extremely important. In fact, all the plots really require us to understand how important Iron Man is; Ivan Vanko wants to destroy Iron Man's reputation, the government wants to claim that reputation, Justin Hammer wants to trump it, and Tony's having trouble keeping it all together. The individual threads work by themselves (particularly, once again, the villains), but that clarification would have really helped the film feel more cohesive.This also causes the Senate scene to come off as completely hollow; the memorable parts are all either obvious set up (Hey, here's Rhodey! And here's Tony's new rival!) or opportunities for Tony to fire off some smug bon mots. And, I mean, Tony being a smartass is part of why we love him, but, with the exception of him exposing Hammer's Iron Man attempts, it's actually a bit tiring. And while there's nothing inherently wrong about a scene being used for setup, it's frustrating when it's so obvious.

#1 is character development, which is always important, but I'm ambivalent on how it's handled. Tony deals with some very serious issues in a believable way, but sometimes these scenes are juxtaposed with others that just don't work together. The best example I have is the party scene leading to the Tony/Rhodey fight; the party scene is awkward and second-hand embarrassing, which is actually pretty brave in an action movie, but then the tone completely changes as we're taken from Tony's rock bottom moment of shame into a full-on supersuit fight complete with appropriate soundtrack. The fight leads to a few necessary plot points (all I'll say is that it's the precursor to the creation of War Machine), but it seems almost immature compared to the scene directly before it. This component of the film is also where Nick Fury and Black Widow intervene, which I think interrupts some of the emotional impact of what's going on with Tony.

But honestly, my problem with this area is that this is where the cliches lie. There are some really wonderful scenes between Tony and Pepper, but we also get a few frustratingly predictable bickering/misunderstanding scenes. Of course Tony can't truly tell Pepper, or anybody, what's wrong. Of course he's pushing people away. It might not be a huge deal for most people, but it's something we see all the time, and it just seems a bit lazy to me.

A lot of the time, people blame bad reception of a sequel on the hype that preceded it, saying that fans were just expecting too much or are unpleasable. In Iron Man 2's case though, I think it's completely justified. The first movie worked on so many levels, and while Iron Man 2 isn't awful, it's such a step down from the first one that it's legitimately disappointing. There's so much in the film that's good, but together it just doesn't work very well, and that's a very valid complaint. Viewers know that everyone involved is capable of doing better, and that's why people say Iron Man 2 sucked. It had so many tools to be just as good as the first movie, and...it just isn't.

I'M NOT DEAD

And neither is this blog, I swear! It's just that I haven't really watched many new movies lately; money is tight, I have no Netflix, and to be honest, I'm also pretty preoccupied with trying to find a steady job. Fortunately, I have a few things coming up that should be good fodder for posts; this weekend I'm watching all four of the Marvel movies leading up to The Avengers, and the IFC Center has started up free member screenings again. (I seriously doubt I will be seeing Avengers though, even though I really like the idea of Mark Ruffalo as Bruce Banner.)

The Descendants

I don't get it.


I previously said I couldn't write about this, but now I'm going to try. My main point though, is that I don't get it. I don't get why this film is particularly impressive. Oh sure, it's got George Clooney acting and beautiful shots of Hawaii and a tragic premise that causes everyone to reflect...but none of that adds up to anything substantial or meaningful. There are definitely some great scenes, but I'm not sure what The Descendants is going for. It's not quite a character study; we get just not far enough into Clooney's character, Matt's head for that. It's not quite a family drama; the well-tread (if not played out) "Father doesn't know how to raise daughters" issue is peripheral after the revelation about Matt's wife's infidelity. It's not quite about dealing with imminent death, because there's this weird subplot about whether to sell a large amount of the family land that clashes with Matt's first statement about Hawaii being far from a paradise. I suppose all of these together are supposed to have some emotions or statements about life in general, but nothing really meshes together well enough.

Take Matt's daughters. The younger one, Scottie, is used as a symbol, both of Matt's inability to understand his kids, and this scary new world of technology and vice that our preteens are exposed to these days. We see her in her first scenes in trouble both at school (for showing pictures of her comatose mother) and with other kids (for cyberbullying), and after that, her only actions of note are to have a "friend" who is nothing more than a representation of every fear about Girls These Days.

The older daughter, Alex, gets much more of a spotlight, and frankly, I sort of wish the film was about her. She's the Wild One Sent Off To A Boarding School, but Shailene Woodley manages to put real depth in this character, who has extremely complicated feelings regarding her mother and her possible death. She ends up bringing in her possible-boyfriend Sid, who is kind of a breath of fresh air, but who also inexplicably sticks around for the entire film despite having no good reason to do so. Sid is usually pretty dim but grows more profound as is required by the film. It's frustrating, because he and Alex have interesting points of view (at least, when Sid isn't being a complete moron), but it's stifled in favor of Matt's man angst. He complains about not knowing what to do with his daughters, but he doesn't really do a whole lot to connect with them; Alex is the one who kicks off the hunt for her mother's boyfriend that eventually brings them together, and Matt doesn't even tell Scottie that her mother is going to die until near the end of the film. Why? Because oh, he doesn't know how. Why trying to figure that out is less important than finding your wife's lover, I don't know.

This is a bit of a tangent, but isn't the "oh god, daughters!" thing a bit outplayed? I know we're told that Matt is a workaholic, but are you really telling me that he's this out of touch with his kids? Why is it that single dads always have this "woe is me, how do I deal with daughters?" thing about them, like girls are so mysterious that they never even bother to attempt to understand them until the mother goes on a trip or leaves them or dies or something? And of course the daughters are always Out of Control or dangerously close to it, what with the internets and the sexting and god how do they know these things it wasn't like this when I was young! shit. Are dads really this terrified of their daughters?

But, back to the film. I won't spoil much of the search for Matt's wife's lover, mostly because it's the best part of the film. Instead, I'll bring up the completely left-field subplot of whether to sell the family land. The family wants to, he has to make the decision, you probably know what happens. It's supposed to be another burden for Matt, but there's not that much reason for it besides the opportunity for some revenge and some reminiscing about beautiful times on beautiful land in paradise Hawaii (it's okay to say it's paradise now for some reason, even though before Matt insists it's not). This subplot is where the film gets its name, but it just doesn't gel with the other plots of the film.

It sounds like I'm just focusing on parts I hated, but to be honest, I was bored for the first hour and a half of the film. It meanders around without having a clear center to wander around. I hate saying that a film is boring; I really should have the attention span to watch something slow and meaningful. But there's nothing interesting about the meager scraps of meaning we get from The Descendants, so the best benefit of the doubt I can give it is that I just Didn't Get It.

And really, I don't. I have no idea why it's getting so much praise, critically and awards-wise. If this were about Shailene Woodley's character, I would understand, but it's not, and yet the film and George Clooney are getting so much attention and love. There's a very weird feeling you get when you're an attempted film buff and this sort of thing happens. Sometimes you don't like a film but can see why others might, you get the 'this person just Doesn't Get It' feeling when hearing others reactions to films, and sometimes it seems like either you're an idiot or everyone else saw a different film that you did. I'm reasonably sure that everyone who raved about The Descendants saw the same film I did (hell, I watched a SAG screener [LEGALLY, I might add], so I know they at least saw the same film), so what's going on here? What am I missing? What made this movie more interesting than a cat playing with a hanging string to everyone else?

Chronicle - go see it

If the title didn’t tip you off, I really liked Chronicle.

To start off, the premise of “teens get powers” is elevated by the found footage style and the emphasis of character emotions instead of the details of their powers. We never find out what the object that gave them telekinesis is, and it doesn’t matter at all. This is about the main character, Andrew Detmer, his life and his issues, which in turn dictate how he uses his telekinesis.

Most of the film is presumably shot from one of his cameras, giving Andrew’s first person view or a static shot; we’re truly peering in on Andrew’s life here, the good and the very, very bad. As the film goes on, he uses his telekinesis for gradually more expressive shots and camera movements, almost as if he’s meaning to distance himself from us. The device works even better during the big action scene near the end (come on, if you saw an ad for this, you know there’s a fight), shown through surveillance, police cameras, and onlookers’ iphones. It hits home that there are actual people in danger during this fight instead of just stock onlookers to a superhero action setpiece.

I really kind of hate that Chronicle is being classified (and advertised) as the ‘watchable superhero movie; I’m not derisive of comic book movies or superhero films like a lot of people are these days, but this film is about so much more than just “teens get superpowers one is a villian oh noes!” We’re looking at three characters who don’t really care that much about The Greater Good; Andrew, Matt and Steve would much rather fly around, play pranks, show off, and record Jackass-esque attempts at controlling their powers than go out and save the world. And while Andrew could be described as “the villain”, I think that’s a lazy interpretation. His violent outbursts later in the film aren’t born from a concrete desire; he has a shitty home life and feels isolated and alone and his emotional arc is what causes his rampage. He wants revenge and to be left alone and to stop his pain, but his anger is so unfocused that it’s unfair to paint him as any sort of “bad guy”. It’s disappointing that Chronicle is being pushed into strict genre terms, because it’s really a great film that deserves to be discussed on its own merit.

(As a side note, I hope people see Chronicle if it’s still in theaters in your area because it’s the type of thing we should tell Hollywood we want more of. Support good films from industry newcomers!)

I don't understand.

I saw Hugo again last week, as well as the Descendants. I have previously said that I would write about both of them. But I've sat down and tried on several occasions, and I just can't seem to write anything close to a useful review on either of them.

I can at least understand my trepidation regarding The Descendants; to me it was kind of a listless film, only gaining any sort of shape or interest in the last twenty or thirty minutes. I can't say that it's a bad movie, but it just seemed...there, without anything for the viewer to latch onto. I try not to dismiss slow movies as boring, but...I found most of it boring, and the worst part is I can't express why. The characters just don't break out of the familiar character types (Dad who doesn't know what to do with daughters, The Troublesome Daughter, The Innocent Daughter, Hippie Family Friends, Derpy Boyfriend, Girl that is every fear about tweens today personified) enough to be interesting, although the actors try hard. Combined with some truly uninspired plot points (the whole issue of the Hawaiian land doesn't mesh well with the rest of the narrative, and why does Sid hang around for the entire movie again?), I honestly can't figure out how to talk about this film in a constructive manner. The bottom line is that I found a cat playing with string more engaging than most of the film, I don't understand all the praise for this film, and my apathy regarding it makes me feel unqualified to write something useful on it.

And then we have Hugo. I saw it in 2D back in December. I definitely enjoyed it more than The Descendants, and it's a film I would recommend to literally anyone, but both times I saw it, I had a baffling absence of feeling about it. Sometimes I think I'm disappointed with it, but there's no line of thinking to back that theory up. Sometimes I think I just wasn't in a great mood when I watched it, but I saw it twice, what more should I need? I don't think I've ever had so much trouble saying something useful on a film, and I'm at an utter loss.

I can't even say this is a symptom of some sort of general film apathy or even a general mood problem; I certainly had something to say about Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, which I also saw recently. As I said, Hugo is definitely worth watching, if for nothing else, for the parallel between the celebration of the birth of the moving image and Scorsese's exploration into 3D cinematography. But something is missing, either in the film or in me, and I can't figure out what.

So what is an amateur reviewer to do?

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

I saw Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy a few days ago, and I'm frankly, shocked that this wasn't up for Best Picture or Cinematography.

Okay, okay, I promise from here on out I'll only talk about it on its own merit. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is incredibly dense and sometimes confusing, but it's definitely worth it to stick with it. The premise is simple: In the middle of the Cold War, George Smiley, a former spy, is pulled out of retirement to find a mole within the British Secret Intelligence Service, referred to as 'the Circus', after the chief dies. The story is, of course, much more complicated, with a web of coverups and secret plans and a failed operation that got an agent shot. We get glimpses of the other spies through flashbacks and impressions of other characters, and there's a point where you have a lot of pieces of the puzzle but no idea how they fit together. I remember getting restless around the 90 minute mark, but in the last half hour everything finally begins to come together.

Tinker Tailor requires careful attention from the viewer, but in return it presents a methodically constructed story. There is no scene without a purpose, no unnecessary shot, no useless line. One thing I noticed is that scenes often ended with a hanging question that is explained by the next scene, instead of a character responding with exposition. Not only does this streamline the dialogue, but it also mirrors a theme of the film; Smiley has been given an unanswered question to solve. There are also small details that may take more than one viewing to pick up on; I didn't realize that Smiley's glasses are different in flashbacks until it was pointed out to me, for instance. The cinematography is also wonderful; there is a scene where Smiley lays in wait for an enemy, and the camera switches to a first person view with the slight bob of each breath.

The last thing I must mention is the superb acting. Gary Oldman is getting the most recognition for his nuanced performance as Smiley, but I think the supporting cast deserves just as much attention. Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hardy are wonderful as younger spies, one who risks everything to catch the mole, and the other gone AWOL, but the real star is Mark Strong, whose last scene is perfectly heartbreaking. If you're up for a slow burning, tense film, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a must see.

Top Whatevers of Whenever

I've only seen a pitiful 16 new releases in theaters this year, so I definitely can't do a top ten list. I also have several films I still have to see (and might not be able to see for a while unless money falls from the sky), and so this is probably not going to be a comprehensive list. But awards season has begun, and I want to highlight some films that I've really liked (even though I've already wrote about most of them).

A documentary I highly recommend: Into the Abyss
I just wrote about this, but I'm still flabbergasted that it kinda came and went without much fanfare. It was one of many documentaries snubbed by the Oscars shortlist, but that honestly seems to happen every single year. I think the grandeur and uniqueness of Herzog's other doc this year, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, simply overpowered the anticipation for another Herzog doc. The death penalty just can't beat out 3D and albino crocodiles (or was it alligators?), and it's a true shame. Not that I'm putting down Cave of Forgotten Dreams, which I also liked, but Into the Abyss had a deeper effect on me and a deeper meaning.

Other documentaries I saw include With Great Power: The Stan Lee Story, which was interesting, but didn't go into as much detail as I would have liked, Connected, which didn't go on the cliched 'everyone is overstimulated' road that I thought it would, but still didn't quite do it for me, and My Perestroika, a charming film about growing up near the end of the Soviet Union, which I wish got more attention. I have no idea if any of these films have or will come out on DVD, but I'd recommend Cave of Forgotten Dreams, and if you can find it, My Perestroika.

A Foreign Film: The Skin I Live In
Shame on me! This is the only foreign film I've seen this year! (Unless you count London River, I suppose, but I'm not sure it actually counts as one.) As I mentioned in earlier posts, I knew absolutely nothing about this film except 1) it starred Antonio Banderas, 2) it was directed by Pedro Almodovar, and 3) the trailer was fucking nuts. None of those things disappointed. Looking back on it, I can see why some other critics called it a mess; the film does have some subplots in the beginning that get pushed aside by the real meat of the story, but to be honest, I don't think it's that big of a deal. I'm sad that it isn't on the Oscar shortlist (I don't even think Spain submitted it), because there are great themes being discussed in a disturbing but effective way. Self-image, identity, the male gaze, and the awareness of the male gaze are themes set up from the beginning, and they're handled impressively.

Life / Death film of the year: Melancholia
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know Tree of Life was beautiful and all, but Melancholia hit its notes much better than The Tree of Life. (Though I think it's a travesty that the Globes passed over both of them for Best Drama. Hey, they had a few American stars! Come on!) Melancholia is one of those films that I'm not sure if I'd watch again, but I'm very glad I saw it. It's easy to write off Justine's sequence as drawn out and boring, and argue that the message is that we all deserve to die, but that's not looking closely enough at it. Why is the planet (and film) named Melancholia? We have a depressed person and a potentially life-threatening planet named after it, and Von Trier has outright said this was his film about his struggle through depression. The wedding sequence is about depression viewed from the outside; Melancholia is a distant point in the sky, and Justine is isolated from the world, something which the other characters cannot understand. She has a family and a husband that loves her, but they either minimize her emotional problems ("Why can't you just be happy?") or shrug them off entirely. In the second half, Melancholia towers over the Earth, and suddenly the feelings of dread and doom that were incomprehensible are perfectly understandable, and Justine almost revels in the "I told you so". Depression is something that's hard to truly understand unless you've gone through it; it really does feel like some unstoppable force is crushing the life out of you, and von Trier is focusing on that feeling along with a proposed Apocalypse.

I mention The Tree of Life with this because I honestly found the film to have a pretty depressing message, and attempts a similarly stylized and cosmic scale as Melancholia. While Tree of Life really is visually stunning, it rung hollow for me in a way that sharply contrast with what I believe was its intended message, whereas Melancholia is intentionally playing into hollowness.

I'm almost positive this won't be at the Oscars; Von Trier's silly antics aside, it's only gotten three nominations and one win for Best Picture (the win being from the European Film Awards, which I don't think have a lot of weight in our corner of the awards races). And while The Tree of Life is a pretty divisive film, I'm pretty sure it was better loved by critics and Malick has more profundity cred than Von Trier. Maybe it could at least be nominated for cinematography?

I can't explain why I liked this but it was awesome: Drive
I'm not entirely sure why I can't articulate what I liked so much about Drive. Maybe because I saw it five months ago? Maybe because its strengths are its stylish hero, stylized world, and Albert Brooks taking a menacing but nuanced turn as a crime boss? I don't know. I can completely understand why it won't get nominated for Best Picture; it's slick genre with nuance, but it's still a genre movie at heart. But I really hope Albert Brooks continues to get recognized, though I'm pretty sure he'll lose to Christopher Plummer. Nicolas Winding Refn also might be a spoiler in Best Director which would be pretty interesting. He got the award over Terrence Malick in Cannes, and with how well Drive is put together, I can see why.


Yo dawg, I heard you like film: Hugo and The Artist
A critic I follow on twitter (I think someone from the AV Club, I can't remember) asked why everyone hates sentimental mush unless it's about film. To me, the answer is obvious: Hugo and The Artist both play with technical elements (3D cinematography and sound editing and aspect ratio) to both enhance the film experience. Hugo definitely has a few storytelling problems, and The Artist is a simple film at heart, but they're more whimsical than sentimental. If I had to place one over the other, The Artist is a better film, but both are worth seeing. I'll eventually write more about Hugo once I see it again in 3D.

As for awards, these two are definite frontrunners, and I think Hugo really deserves Best Cinematography.  And while I'd prefer Refn to get Best Director, come on. It's Marty! How could I say no to him?


Wait, I should mention this one too: Certified Copy
So...I kind of lied when I said The Skin I Live In was the only foreign film I had seen this year. For some reason I keep convincing myself I saw Certified Copy last year, and while it did release internationally last year, it didn't come here until 2011. I guess I also forgot to mention it because I'm not really sure I liked it; it's a very well done experiment playing with art and reality (it's all particularly meta), but while it's interesting, I'm not sure how much I enjoyed watching it. If you're looking for a film to make you think, I would still recommend it; I certainly don't regret spending money on it.

And now, because I am an inherently negative and jealous person (not going to even hide it), let's talk about some not so great films.

Director, I am disappoint: A Dangerous Method
Man, what the hell happened here? When it came out I wondered why it never went wide like I expected it to, but after seeing it, I can understand why. Cronenberg (and really, everyone involved) took the easy way out, and threw in some bad storytelling along with it. Viggo Mortenson wasn't bad as Freud, so I can't say that he most definitely did not deserve a supporting actor nomination at the Golden Globes, but it seemed more based on "it's a great actor playing a historical figure!" than anything novel in his performance.

Welp, you get what you pay for and I didn't pay a cent: Another Earth and London River
The cool thing about living in New York is that occasionally, something cool happens for free. The cool thing about being an IFC member is every month or so they kinda flit a secret screening at you. So I didn't pay anything to see Another Earth and London River, and I went in knowing little to nothing about them, which is probably for the best, because I wouldn't spend money on either. Another Earth wastes two good premises (the mirror Earth and a former student fresh out of jail for vehicular manslaughter) to tell something about relationships that you can see coming a mile away. London River tries to say something about terrorism and social tensions, but just ends up as yet another "White People Realize That Minorities Aren't That Different!" film, and we really should all be past that.

Aren't things great now that white people saved everyone else from racism: The Help
I don't want to reiterate my ire for this film, but I'm extremely disappointed that Octavia Spencer won Best Supporting Actress  at the Globes this past Sunday over Bernice Bejo. Can we move past the "I'd rather play a maid than be one" stage? I'm truly appalled that it apparently won Best Picture at the Black Film Critics' awards, and if Viola Davis actually wins an Oscar for this, I'm going to throw up in my mouth.
Okay, probably not literally but it really bothers me how much attention The Help is getting like it's deep and meaningful and oh my goooood people were soooo terrible back then good thing we're all best friends now! I feel like I have to go see Pariah or rent Malcolm X in penance or something.

I hope I can get a job or have money dropped on me so I can get a chance to catch up on films, but I may have a chance to see The Descendants soon, which has been getting tons of attention. It even seems like it might be the frontrunner for Best Picture, even above The Artist. Not really sure if I'm going to like it, but who knows? Instincts can be wrong. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is also coming soon; I can see that for pretty cheap and though it's been ignored for a lot of awards ceremonies lately, I think it's going to be important.

Why I like Amadeus despite deriding the costume drama genre

Alright, I am going to say this right now: I have a horrible bias against costume dramas. To me they’re all about repressed rich people opressed by societal norms and there’s always someone who must marry someone else even though they are in love with another person oh no! And there are affairs and shame and it’s all supposed to be super intruiging and maybe a war or some other historical event comes around and messes everything up or there’s some sultry affair and it’s all very dignified with British accents. I’m sure this is completely unfair and somewhat inaccurate, but I just see costume dramas as everyone falling in love with Poofy Dress Eras and assuming that’s a signifier of a Prestigous Movie with Pretigious British Actors, and I’m sick of it.

And yet, despite all this bitching, one of my favorite movies is an Oscar-winning costume drama. How could the person who just wrote that bullshit above have fallen in love with a two and a half hour Poofy Dress Film in middle school? There are two reasons I can think of.

The first being that Amadeus doesn’t have the classic elements of repression or restrictive society or even forbidden love at all. Sure, Salieri has his vow of chastity and unrequited love for his muse, but the entire point of the film is that society seems to bend over backwards for Mozart. The only obstacles caused by society are the ones that Salieri takes advantage of to bring down Mozart. Mozart supposedly has sultry affairs, but it’s not dwelled upon or treated as particularly scandalous for anyone but Salieri. And what’s presented as Serious Business isn’t as much political standing as the understandable and real feelings of Salieri.

And that brings me to the second reason: the actual themes of the film apply to any time and anyone. Amadeus is about two things: inferiority and jealousy. Who hasn’t met someone like Tom Hulce’s Mozart; someone who effortlessly beats you at whatever you do best, who seems to get all the luck and attention? There’s always that one person in school who aces the test everyone else bombed, the one person at work who doesn’t screw up a single thing, and the worst part is when they’re just so fucking nice about it. Salieri sees Mozart, this goofy looking lowbrow kid, and can’t believe that his best efforts pale in comparison to Mozart’s work. Why is he better than me, me who has made music my life’s work, he asks, and that’s something that people will always be asking. Why are things harder for me than for that guy? Why can’t I do as well as everyone else? When will I get my turn in the spotlight? No matter what the society, time, country, economic or social status, everyone has or will have those feelings at some point in their lives. I had felt it before when I was a fourth or fifth grader watching Amadeus in parts in music class, and it’s still relevant to me as a twenty-something.

Of course, there’s more to the film than just the themes. F. Murray Abraham delivers an amazing performance that lets us see ourselves in Salieri, and Tom Hulce is unforgettable as the perky, crude, obnoxious, and brilliant Mozart. The art direction and costumes are amazing; Mozart’s choice of wigs is a small touch with a surprising amount of meaning, and the cinematography is beautiful. Milos Forman borrowed a lens from Stanley Kubrick so he could shoot almost every scene without added light, which I can tell you is extremely impressive. The way the music is incorporated into the film is spot-on as well, and it all weaves together to create a truly great film.

I can’t imagine how any of the few people who read this wouldn’t have seen this film, but if you haven’t, it’s an absolute must. This clip is pretty late in the film, but it’s my favorite scene, and if this doesn’t impress you, I don’t know what will.

(I will note one thing: unfortunately, the version of Amadeus that’s easiest to get is the Director’s Cut, which is not actually Forman’s cut, but just the film with all the deleted scenes shoved back in. It’s still a great film, but it pads the runtime to about three hours, and the film is perfect without it. The theatrical version is only found on an old release that uses a double sided DVD, which is annoying.)

A Dangerous Method

I usually avoid trailers because of spoilers and/or trust in the director and actors, but maybe I should have this time, because A Dangerous Method was not what I expected it to be.

A film about the relationship of Sigmund Freud and Karl Jung seemed interesting enough to me; psychoanalysis completely turned the field of psychology upside down, and since has become the most well-known form of therapy in pop culture. We all know something about Freudian psychology, but Jung's work, especially post-Freud, is also interesting, and I was prepared for a film examining the depths of both men's work. The addition of Sabina Spielrein, Jung's first foray into psychoanalysis, seemed like a perfect way to bring the two together.

Unfortunately, Cronenberg takes the easiest route possible and solely focuses on the most rudimentary sexual elements of psychoanalysis, shoving the themes of sexual repression into the audience's face. There is little focus on the relationship between Freud and Jung, instead revolving around Jung and Spielrein's relationship. I don't think it's a spoiler to tell you that it turns sexual, or that the film's conflict is surrounding Jung's guilt over their affair clashing with psychoanalytic views of sex. The relationship between Freud and Jung is rushed through, and after Sabine recovers, any other applications of psychoanalysis are completely glossed over in favor of sex scenes. The dream analysis scenes between Freud and Jung only serve to tell the audience about what we already know is in Jung's head or to show that hey, Freud is all about sex, right guys? We also hear Freud rejected Jung's alternate ideas, but there's little explanation of what these are, because apparently Jung sleeping with his patient is much more interesting.

Even if you ignore the wasted potential of the premise, the film is still very disjointed; each scene seems like its own entity that doesn't quite link with the scenes before or after it. Early in the film Jung complains about having to serve in World War One, but by the next scene, he's already back and nothing significant has changed! It is necessary at points for the film to jump forward in time, but it's done sloppily, which makes the already uneven pacing even worse. Apparently it was adapted from a play, which might explain the odd choices in pacing, but it certainly doesn't excuse it by any means. And this is getting away from a review and going towards my pure opinion, but how many damn costume dramas have we seen that involve repression and scandalous sex? Perhaps none with S&M involved, but Cronenberg is still falling into well tread territory that I'm not afraid to admit completely bores me.

The performances as a whole are serviceable, but I have to mention Keira Knightley's contortions as an untreated Sabine as a particular low. Pulling off hysteric jerks without overdoing it is undoubtedly difficult, but jutting out your jaw to look like you're imitating a bulldog will never look good. It's been two weeks since I saw this film, and I'm still really disappointed in it. Cronenberg and everyone involved could have done so much better.

Into the Abyss

I'm still not entirely sure how to write about Into the Abyss, except to say that it's about so much more than the death penalty. Herzog has outright said that he opposes capital punishment, but Into the Abyss doesn't try to be political. He doesn't put the death penalty in a vacuum; the film details the triple homicide committed by the two prisoners Jason Burkett and Michael Perry from the actual crime scene all the way through the execution of Michael Perry. Into the Abyss is more about the consequences of crime and murder than simply an examination of the death penalty.

Herzog looks at all sides of the murder, from the victim's families to the prisoner's acquaintances to the poverty and crime in the area they grew up in, to the chaplain and officer that are involved in the execution ritual. He attempts to explain but not necessarily excuse why anyone would commit murder, and that leads to the most moving parts of the film, where he interviews Jason Burkett's father, who is also in jail and has been for most of Jason's life. I can't do justice to his scenes in print except to say that it left me in tears.

At least one critic has mentioned that the title of the film could be the title for a lot of Herzog films, and while that's definitely true, I think it does fit best here. The abyss isn't even necessarily death, but the grief of the victims' families, the regret from a father that wasn't there, the trap of poverty and delinquency, the weight of working in a place where you know the person you are looking at is going to die. Herzog's last documentary, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, has gotten more attention, but I truly believe that Into the Abyss is the more meaningful film.

film write-up round up

Okay, I’m putting off my Hugo review until after tomorrow, since I’m seeing it again in 3D. I’m also probably seeing Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy on the same day, and should be catching Shame pretty soon. That makes the future write-up list:

• Hugo (3D)
• A Dangerous Method
• Into the Abyss
• Tinker Tailor Solider Spy
• Shame

And if I can justify spending more money, I definitely want to see if I can check out some smaller / indie films in the next month or two:

• Pariah - I’ve heard wonderful things about it, and I really should start getting into more black filmmakers. Also, if it’s good I can recommend it to my mom, and if it’s not too sexual I might even see it with her! Always good.
• Martha Marcy May Marlene - Another film getting a lot of praise, in particular Elizabeth Olsen’s performance. One of those things that might not be my type of movie, but I think it’ll be interesting.
• Carnage - I’ve heard kind of mixed things about it, but I love Jodie Foster and Christoph Waltz, so come on. I have to. I’m also waiting for it to come out at the cheaper theater so I can pretend I am somewhat responsible about my money.
• We Need to Talk About Kevin - I actually would have seen this earlier, but it got pushed back to the end of January, so oh well.
• Rampart - A crime movie? A corrupt cop? Grittier than grits? Fuck yeah!
• Margin Call - I’ve heard this is extremely underrated, so I think I might try and catch it before it leaves theaters.

…man that looks like a ridiculous amount now that I think about it. I am trying to see more films though now that I can; I can’t decide if 16 new releases in 2011 is a big amount or still small…(Into the Abyss and A Dangerous Method don’t count because I saw them this week.)

The Help

I will admit, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to enjoy this film. So far I haven’t been able to articulate the genre of film that I tend to gravitate towards, but I can definitely say that this wasn’t it. But my mom was interested in it, so I had to give it a fair chance. After all, I always advocate going out of your comfort zone. Unfortunately for me, this time my gut instinct was correct. The Help has some serious problems.

This movie is supposed to be about the racism that the black maids experience in pre-civil rights Louisiana, with an interesting twist about these maids’ relationships with the children of their employers. The plot kicks off with Skeeter, played by Emma Stone, coming back from college and finding out that her family maid Constantine, who practically raised her, has mysteriously disappeared. An aspiring journalist, she is stirred to interview black maids about raising white children, starting with one of her friend’s maids, Aibileen (played by Viola Davis). Soon Aibileen’s friend Minny (played by Octavia Spencer), who has been fired for daring to use her family’s bathroom instead of the one for the help outside, becomes a part of Skeeter’s project as well.

But as much as the film tries to convince us that Aibileen is the main character by having her as the focus of the first and last scenes, it’s really about Skeeter, which is terribly disappointing. The beginnings of the civil rights movement are only shown through brief glimpses of TV news or in one scene where Aibileen is forced to get off a bus when it heads through a crime scene where a civil rights activist was shot, whereas we have to slog through Skeeter’s romantic life. This film falls right into the “White People To The Rescue” trope that really needs to die already.

The performances in this film have been lauded even by their detractors, and I agree to a certain extent. Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer, and Emma Stone are all wonderful, although Octavia Spencer does at some point have to play the Sassy “Mmm hmmm” Black Lady role. But who really stood out to me was Jessica Chastain, who plays my favorite character in the film, Celia. She takes on Minny after she is fired because she can’t cook and is afraid her husband might leave her otherwise, and she’s shunned by the rest of the community for being tacky and rumors that she stole somebody’s boyfriend. Her growing relationship with Minny feels genuine, sweet, and funny, but unfortunately is just a side story.

And that’s the big problem with this film. There’s too much Wise Black Servant and White Person With Radical Views For The Time and especially the Terrible White Villian, played by Bryce Dallas Howard, who seems like she should really be the leader of the popular girls in a high school comedy. Skeeter’s role as White Person With Radical Views is also frustrating, especially since I have heard she wasn’t so liberal in the book. But the stock stereotypes don’t stop; what convinces Aibileen to tell her story to Skeeter? A sermon about Courage and Standing Up For What Is Right, of course! The ending is especially annoying. After Skeeter gains success and escapes racist Louisiana for New York, the film tries to make us cry at the end by having a scene where three characters are crying, one of them an abandoned toddler. But it’s supposed to also be a happy cry, because Aibileen quits, escaping the most terrible white people, and walks off into the sunset knowing she is free. Roll credits.

And that’s the last we see of Aibileen, as if that’s enough closure for her. She lost her job and is (figuratively) walking off to who knows where, but her voiceover is liberated, so she’ll be okay, right? I was told the book gives her a much more definitive happy ending, but seriously?

The sad thing is, The Help is clearly trying to say something meaningful about having to raise kids that aren’t your own and women’s roles in society in general, but it really gets bogged down in sentimental and overdone bullshit.

Hmmm

I should have three new film posts coming up soon:

• The Help: I got this for my mom for Christmas and we watched it together. I really should write something in full, but to give a preview: I hated it. It’s baa manipulative tear jerker about a white woman who’s Not Racist Like THe Rest Of Them and how she helps some poor black people. I mean, the film tryies to say it’s about Abeline by bookending it with her voice over, but when she walks into the sunset, we don’t have any idea what is actually going to happen to her! But Skeeter got a happy ending, so it’s ok, right? 
• Hugo: I think I might see this again in 3D since I had to see it in 2D nd I just feel like it might be more impressive. I have to admit I took a while to get absorbed in the film; it starts off pretty average children’s movie. I didn’t love it the way I expected to, but it’s really sweet and I loved Chloe Mortez as Isabelle. 
• A Dangerous Method: I don’t really know what I was expecting from this film, but it was really disappointing. I might simply have been mistaken; I had assumed that the film was mostly going to be about Freud, Jung, and their theories, but really it was about sex, repression, and Keira Knightley. But even ignoring my disappointment in the plot, I felt this movie was really disjointed. There wasn’t enough connection between scenes or events, so everything got pretty flat. 

I’m also planning on seeing Shame and Into the Abyss soon, probably tomorrow. I also saw the trailer for Rampart and now I’m really interested in it.

I guess part of the reason I haven’t written anything is because I’ve felt a little blah about movies in the last week or so. I was definitely not in a good mood going into Hugo, and I might not have the money to see it again to get a new view. I had also sort of forgotten about A Dangerous Method a little, so I’m wondering ifmy mood is affecting my enjoyment of movies.

Then again, I’m totally stoked for Rampart, so maybe I’m just not doing well with brighter movies. Who knows, I just hope I get my shit together soon.