The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is a fun, uplifting ride with just enough substance to justify its wish fulfillment. Ben Stiller plays the titular character, a quiet everyguy who regularly loses himself in spectacular fantasies. He's into a woman at work but can't figure out how to talk to her, there are massive layoffs at his job at Life Magazine and the man in charge is a giant douchebag, and he has nothing interesting to put on his Eharmony dating profile. When a coveted negative from a famous photographer that only will communicate with him goes missing, he has to bite the bullet and go out on his own to find the photographer and save his job.
Emotionally, Walter's character arc is pretty predictable, but it's an incredibly fun ride, from the ridiculous fantasy sequences (one in which he and the smarmy executive duke it out in a superpowered fistfight across the city is particularly funny), to the characters he meets while traveling the world on his colleague's tail, to his constant correspondence with an Eharmony tech support staff member. The obvious message is that Walter goes from daydreaming about adventures to actually going on them, breaking out from his role as a meek everyman into something special, but I think the addition of the romantic subplot and Walter's waning job security add a little more heft to it. For one thing, although his love interest, Cheryl, isn't much of a fleshed out character (though magnitudes more so than the interest in About Time), she and Walter first bond over a common interest; she's intrigued by the mystery of the missing negative and actually interested in his work. Her son, Rich, also warms up to Walter because they share an enthusiasm for skateboarding. It's nice to see a character that starts off with reasons for the supporting characters to fall for them; even an average person has some sort of interest or unique talent, though they might not realize it.
Of course, an average person getting to travel halfway around the world in search of the most important item for his company is wish fulfillment at its finest, especially when succeeding means showing up a cartoonishly obnoxious boss. But the film is funny and charming enough that for the most part, it doesn't really matter, and the fact that it's both about living up to your full potential through taking risks and recognizing your previous experiences are more unique than you may give them credit for.
The reviews so far have been pretty polarized; and I think it mostly comes down to whether you're okay with a film that is so unabashedly wish fulfillment. It was also apparently hyped up as an Oscar contender, which it's probably not, but it's a sweet, funny movie that's touching without feeling manipulative. The only solid complaint I have is that the executive played by Adam Scott is pretty over the top in his assholishness, and his beard is ridiculously distracting, but that's a really small quibble.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Some thoughts on The Breakfast Club
I watched the Breakfast Club last week for the first time; I've never really been interested in the 80s teen movies, but I was convinced to try it out, and I ended up a bit frustrated. The thing about The Breakfast Club is that it has a really good message that's completely mismanaged. The David Bowie quote at the beginning foreshadows a lot of heavy handed showing instead of telling; most of the dialogue, especially in the first half, is too on the nose, and Vernon is way too cartoonish of a character. There's a lot to be said about teachers who take their shit out on students and have a disgusting amount of disdain for them, and how the bad teachers can really get away with it because god teachers' jobs are hard and teenagers are monsters, but Vernon's confrontation with Bender in the closet is just ridiculous. Nobody actually says stuff like "nobody will ever believe you" or "don't make a fool out of me", they just do or say nasty things because the balance of power is already established.
It's not as if it entirely misfires; seeing how everyone arrives at school and what they have for lunch are great examples of when the film does show instead of telling, and Andrew and Brian's monologues are genuinely moving. Brian's story in particular is something that really hit home because while I've generally accepted that the media's idea of high school has really little to do with what I actually experienced, that was the exact sort of shit that I ran into. I can't say that anybody wanted to kill themselves because of their parents' pressure about their grades, but I knew people who were afraid of what their parents would say if they brought home a 94 instead of a 95. I knew people who wanted to kill themselves because of the atmosphere of my school (you all are little cheating grade grubbing shits who can't think outside of standardized tests and if you don't get it it's because you're not trying hard enough); hell, I wanted to kill myself in high school, and I knew someone who did kill himself. That monologue was something raw and real that resonated pretty deeply with me, and even though the gravity of it dissipates when we learn that the gun was just a flare gun, there's a real connection made between the characters and the viewer. And then the movie immediately cut to an 80s dance party. Not to say that most of the interludes of the kids fucking around is bad, but there's such a mood whiplash that it's annoying and distracting.
I already knew I was going to hate Allison's makeover, and I'm sure it's been talked about to death so I won't harp too much on it, but I feel like her and Claire's issues were so lazily written compared to the others. I can't even recall if we knew why Claire got in detention. We kind of don't need to know with Bender since we see that Vernon might put him in just for breathing, and the fact that Allison is either so lonely she'd go to detention on purpose, lie, or both says something about her, but Andrew and Brian's confessions really tell us something about them and their status. There's a lot of talk about Claire being the popular girl, but I feel like instead of focusing on that, the film decides to focus on her prude/virgin/tease status. What's really frustrating is that Allison explicitly points out that it's complete bullshit...and yet then everyone still focuses on it. Her virgin/good girl status is focused on while the actual issues, the pressure of popularity and her feeling like a pawn in her friends' and parents' lives, fall to the wayside. Allison and Andrew hooking up after her makeover is frustrating, but I feel at least they had more of a healthy connection than Claire and Bender. It seems like in the end Claire's just sort of the prize for him; the first thing she does for himself is get together with him? Really? In general it really does bother me that most of the characters' arcs seem to be resolved by getting together with someone else.
Even with my problems with the film, I can see why it's become a classic. The idea that teenagers' emotions and problems matter even if they don't have adult responsibilities yet is something that is often mocked in today's media, so I imagine as a teen in the 80s, seeing a mainstream film acknowledge your troubles and fears must have meant a lot. The film also has very believable and sympathetic characters, and the message about breaking away from your cliques and letting go of judgement is definitely important. I just wish that The Breakfast Club delivered consistently on its potential.
It's not as if it entirely misfires; seeing how everyone arrives at school and what they have for lunch are great examples of when the film does show instead of telling, and Andrew and Brian's monologues are genuinely moving. Brian's story in particular is something that really hit home because while I've generally accepted that the media's idea of high school has really little to do with what I actually experienced, that was the exact sort of shit that I ran into. I can't say that anybody wanted to kill themselves because of their parents' pressure about their grades, but I knew people who were afraid of what their parents would say if they brought home a 94 instead of a 95. I knew people who wanted to kill themselves because of the atmosphere of my school (you all are little cheating grade grubbing shits who can't think outside of standardized tests and if you don't get it it's because you're not trying hard enough); hell, I wanted to kill myself in high school, and I knew someone who did kill himself. That monologue was something raw and real that resonated pretty deeply with me, and even though the gravity of it dissipates when we learn that the gun was just a flare gun, there's a real connection made between the characters and the viewer. And then the movie immediately cut to an 80s dance party. Not to say that most of the interludes of the kids fucking around is bad, but there's such a mood whiplash that it's annoying and distracting.
I already knew I was going to hate Allison's makeover, and I'm sure it's been talked about to death so I won't harp too much on it, but I feel like her and Claire's issues were so lazily written compared to the others. I can't even recall if we knew why Claire got in detention. We kind of don't need to know with Bender since we see that Vernon might put him in just for breathing, and the fact that Allison is either so lonely she'd go to detention on purpose, lie, or both says something about her, but Andrew and Brian's confessions really tell us something about them and their status. There's a lot of talk about Claire being the popular girl, but I feel like instead of focusing on that, the film decides to focus on her prude/virgin/tease status. What's really frustrating is that Allison explicitly points out that it's complete bullshit...and yet then everyone still focuses on it. Her virgin/good girl status is focused on while the actual issues, the pressure of popularity and her feeling like a pawn in her friends' and parents' lives, fall to the wayside. Allison and Andrew hooking up after her makeover is frustrating, but I feel at least they had more of a healthy connection than Claire and Bender. It seems like in the end Claire's just sort of the prize for him; the first thing she does for himself is get together with him? Really? In general it really does bother me that most of the characters' arcs seem to be resolved by getting together with someone else.
Even with my problems with the film, I can see why it's become a classic. The idea that teenagers' emotions and problems matter even if they don't have adult responsibilities yet is something that is often mocked in today's media, so I imagine as a teen in the 80s, seeing a mainstream film acknowledge your troubles and fears must have meant a lot. The film also has very believable and sympathetic characters, and the message about breaking away from your cliques and letting go of judgement is definitely important. I just wish that The Breakfast Club delivered consistently on its potential.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Only God Forgives
I went to a Q&A with Nicolas Winding Refn about a week before I saw Only God Forgives, and he told an anecdote about how at Cannes, a woman had come up to him and told him that she thought the film took place inside a vagina. Refn was surprised, but told her "I think you might be right!" At the time it seemed like a funny little story about weird interpretations, but after seeing the movie, I think she was definitely on the right track, because Only God Forgives is, ultimately, about a man who is still attached to his mother, like the umbilical cord was never cut.
Ryan Gosling plays Julian, a underground boxing manager/drug runner living in Bangkok. His cruelly overbearing mother, Crystal (played by Kristin Scott Thomas), comes from the U.S. after Billy, her other son, is killed by a man seeking revenge from the rape and murder of his daughter. Unconcerned with the circumstances of Billy's death, Crystal demands bloody revenge on those responsible, and expects Julian to do it. Her hold on him is absolute; in her first scene her touch is more like a python coiling around its prey than a mother interacting with her child. She lashes out at whatever comes her way, whether it's a mildly unhelpful hotel concierge or Julian's sort-of-girlfriend Mai, and insists that the world's rules bend to her whim.
On the other side of the story is Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), a cop who indirectly allows the murder victim's father to brutally murder Billy. He too, rules his world with an iron fist, punishing criminals through torture, amputation, or death. Despite his gruesome methods of justice, he has more compassion than the tyrannical Crystal; we see him apologize to his wife for coming home late and look after his child after a night of brutality. Crystal believes it's Julian's responsibility as Billy's brother to kill Chang, and Julian is stuck between the obvious danger of going up against Chang and the intense pressure from his mother.
Julian is paralyzed by women and their sexuality; he watches his girlfriend masturbate as his hands are bound, he rarely speaks, especially around his mother. The image of his hands flexing into fists, is a recurring theme; the only way he can assert himself is through violence, and his mother even has control over that. Many of the interiors, particularly in Julian's scenes, are a deep red, as if he is literally still inside his mother, and connecting her to the bloody violence of the film. Instead of dialogue, the soundtrack takes precedent, seamlessly linking a dark, heavy score with Thai karaoke songs that take on an oddly sinister air when sung by Chang.
There have been very mixed reviews for this film, and a lot of it are making the misstep of comparing it to Drive because of Ryan Gosling playing another taciturn character who has violent tendencies. This is not a sequel or spiritual successor to Drive, and the only similarities are purely superficial. (One of them is actually coincidental as well; Luke Evans was originally supposed to play Julian, but he dropped out due to scheduling conflicts with the next two Hobbit films, so Gosling took on the role.) Only God Forgives toes the line between narrative and experimental film; if you go into this film thinking about Drive, you will leave confused and disappointed.
Ryan Gosling plays Julian, a underground boxing manager/drug runner living in Bangkok. His cruelly overbearing mother, Crystal (played by Kristin Scott Thomas), comes from the U.S. after Billy, her other son, is killed by a man seeking revenge from the rape and murder of his daughter. Unconcerned with the circumstances of Billy's death, Crystal demands bloody revenge on those responsible, and expects Julian to do it. Her hold on him is absolute; in her first scene her touch is more like a python coiling around its prey than a mother interacting with her child. She lashes out at whatever comes her way, whether it's a mildly unhelpful hotel concierge or Julian's sort-of-girlfriend Mai, and insists that the world's rules bend to her whim.
On the other side of the story is Chang (Vithaya Pansringarm), a cop who indirectly allows the murder victim's father to brutally murder Billy. He too, rules his world with an iron fist, punishing criminals through torture, amputation, or death. Despite his gruesome methods of justice, he has more compassion than the tyrannical Crystal; we see him apologize to his wife for coming home late and look after his child after a night of brutality. Crystal believes it's Julian's responsibility as Billy's brother to kill Chang, and Julian is stuck between the obvious danger of going up against Chang and the intense pressure from his mother.
Julian is paralyzed by women and their sexuality; he watches his girlfriend masturbate as his hands are bound, he rarely speaks, especially around his mother. The image of his hands flexing into fists, is a recurring theme; the only way he can assert himself is through violence, and his mother even has control over that. Many of the interiors, particularly in Julian's scenes, are a deep red, as if he is literally still inside his mother, and connecting her to the bloody violence of the film. Instead of dialogue, the soundtrack takes precedent, seamlessly linking a dark, heavy score with Thai karaoke songs that take on an oddly sinister air when sung by Chang.
There have been very mixed reviews for this film, and a lot of it are making the misstep of comparing it to Drive because of Ryan Gosling playing another taciturn character who has violent tendencies. This is not a sequel or spiritual successor to Drive, and the only similarities are purely superficial. (One of them is actually coincidental as well; Luke Evans was originally supposed to play Julian, but he dropped out due to scheduling conflicts with the next two Hobbit films, so Gosling took on the role.) Only God Forgives toes the line between narrative and experimental film; if you go into this film thinking about Drive, you will leave confused and disappointed.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
The fallacy of video games vs. the world
I really wish that people who want video games accepted as an art medium think the only way to do it is prove that all other media is inferior. Ranking media is really irrelevant; people get their feathers ruffled by "what is art" and the high/low art concept when really they should be focusing on serious analysis of their medium of choice. Instead of arguing what makes video games better than traditional media, gamers should be discussing what makes video games unique from traditional media. The tactile (or I guess simulated tactile) immersion of the player into a world and character through interactivity is what should be discussed; how do the best of games use this in artful and innovative ways?
Instead I feel like gamers try and prove that video games are the only true medium, and seem intent on dismissing any other medium if it doesn't have interactivity, as the picture below from this cracked article unfortunately illustrates.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
I might be a hypocrite - on Silver Linings Playbook and Django
Let's be honest here: all of the "controversy" over Django comes down to one question: is it okay for Tarantino to bypass education about slavery in favor of entertainment? To me, the question is obvious; of fucking course it is. It's not Tarantino's fault that there aren't many high profile films that tackle slavery, and he or anybody else shouldn't be obligated to sit down and hold the viewers hand and give them an in depth history lesson. Tarantino may have set himself up a bit for a lot of this because he was talking about 'exposing' slavery, and that can mean a lot of diffferent things, many of which he never intended to talk about. (A more accurate statement would be that he exposes the extent of the cruelty and dehumanization inflicted on black people in that era.) I mean, not every film has to move cultural perception forward, right?
This seemed really obvious to me until a while after I saw Silver Linings Playbook.
I was really ambivalent about this movie coming into the theater; it's been getting a ton of praise, critical and otherwise, and featured a mentally ill character that wasn't sensantionalized, so it piqued my interest. But it also seemed pretty damn cutesy, and Film Crit Hulk, probably my favorite film writer, accused the second half of making the entire movie insincere and straight up dishonest. But a friend offered to see it with me, and I hadn't spent a whole lot of time with her in forever, so I went.
And somehow I came out just as ambivalent as I went in. There are really great moments in this film; the core cast is outstanding, and there's a lot of truth towards recovering from a mental illness. And even when the film gets formulaic, I can somehow forgive it because I was invested enough in these characters and their struggles that I could watch things get a bit silly as long as it felt good. But for me, something in the film made me deeply uncomfortable in a way that nearly ruined everything. The first half, which just about every reviewer agrees is the better part of the film, hit some emotional button to the point where I was actually considering walking out of the theater, going home, and curling up under a blanket with a teddy bear. Obviously, I didn't, partly because I've never walked out of a film in my life, but also because I saw it with a friend and it would be a dick move to leave. That, and we were up in Kew Gardens; I had traveled way too far to run out on a film. It was strong enough that even though the second half followed the romcom formula to a tee, I was totally okay with it because it made me feel fluffy and good. My friend came out saying that she thought it was a great portrayal of people with mental illness, and for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to agree.
It took me a lot of time to realize why; there are some really mixed messages about Pat's illness. On one hand, we see that he's a regular guy who's had problems, but is attempting to work through them, first by himself, but then realizes he is much better on meds. His parents' worries and reactions towards his every move are sometimes frustrating, but completely understandable and accurate. He's not malicious or scarred from some childhood trauma, he just got dealt some shitty mind cards and has to learn how to get around them.
On the other hand, I feel like some of the humor in the first half undermines that level-headed and sympathetic look at him. Not to say that he needs to be handled with kid gloves; anyone who's been in a mental hospital can tell you that sometimes, in retrospect, some things people do or think because of their illness is kind of hilarious. But sometimes it feels like a line gets crossed. Pat throwing a book out the window and waking up his parents to rant about it? Funny, completely plausible for someone with poor impulse control. (Anyone who has tried to read through A Song of Ice and Fire would understand.) That kid who keeps trying to interview the Solitanos about Pat's illness. Funny, in that ha-ha wait-yeah-there-are-people-who-would-really-do-that way. Having Pat's dad chase him down the block? Cathartic. The actual conflict leading up to that is tense, raw, and upsetting, but then we get this scene of all the neighbors waking up and complaining, and it just felt so...false. It seemed like something out of a sitcom when the main characters are having a loud argument over something stupid, when in fact we just watched a pretty violent scene. The other thing it reminded me of was the nigger on a horse scene in Django, though in Django it's a standalone scene establishing the ridiculousness of racism (one dude on a horse is a pearl-clutching event!), whereas in Silver Linings, it directly follows something very serious. We laugh at the idea of Django on a horse being a spectacle, but in my opinion there's much less laughing matter about being woken up by an actual domestic disturbance. It's a cheap and hollow laugh that turns a serious scene into "Ha, look at these guys! Waking up the neighborhood with family members punching each other!" Both Pat and his father's anger problems are suddenly the butt of a joke.
The scene where Pat runs into his former boss also really bothered me; I just didn't find it funny that she genuinely scared for her safety. It's not even really expanded upon that people are afraid of Pat; I think it's mentioned once, yet that would be very important for someone trying to get their life back together. Instead, it's played for laughs, and not just 'oh hoho, misunderstanding!' laughs; we're supposed to laugh because Pat doesn't even get that he comes off as creepy. In the end, I realized that I don't think the film really cares that much about portraying mental illness as much as having quirkily fucked up people who can somehow fix each other by being together. Note that in the ending, we don't see if Pat has a job? Or possibly even his own place? All we know is that everything's well and good because golly gee, those two kids got together! When I think about it, the end suggests that falling in love with someone is just as important to well-being as medication and therapy. Maybe even more, since I can only infer that Pat is still on meds. And what about Tiffany? Pat is at least in therapy (with, of course, a charmingly foreign therapist because movies); am I really to believe that dancing and a new relationship has solved Tiffany's emotional problems? I guess. The film is iffy about caring about mental illness in the first half, and downright doesn't give a fuck by the second, and I think that's a serious problem.
Or is it? After all, I don't know if David O. Russell (or original novelist Matthew Quick) ever intended to make a film that furthered how mental illness is portrayed in pop culture; maybe they just wanted to tell a love story about some severely fucked up people. If Tarantino is allowed to wrap the horrors of slavery into a spaghetti western, why can't Quick or Russell mix some mental illness into a romcom? Do I expect this film to do too much like some expect Django to do? Is it possible that, being a Tarantino fan and a Russell neophyte, I'm giving Tarantino slack because I already really like him? Or that I'm being unfair because while the lasting social remnants of slavery affect me personally, it's not in the intense way that mental illness does.
You know what? I probably am, at least a little bit. In the end, even if Django deserved to be called out as much as other people have done, Silver Linings deserves to be called out even more because portrayals of mental illness don't get the same discussions that race does. Not to mention that Silver Linings can't help but sugarcoat some of the darkest moments with humorous situations or the Black Best Friend.
Also Django actually has complexity and sticks to doing something new, whereas Silver Linings decides halfway through to ditch originality and go full romcom.
I guess in the end, I really think Tarantino thought a lot more about showing slavery in Django than Russell (or Quick) thought about showing mental illness.
This seemed really obvious to me until a while after I saw Silver Linings Playbook.
I was really ambivalent about this movie coming into the theater; it's been getting a ton of praise, critical and otherwise, and featured a mentally ill character that wasn't sensantionalized, so it piqued my interest. But it also seemed pretty damn cutesy, and Film Crit Hulk, probably my favorite film writer, accused the second half of making the entire movie insincere and straight up dishonest. But a friend offered to see it with me, and I hadn't spent a whole lot of time with her in forever, so I went.
And somehow I came out just as ambivalent as I went in. There are really great moments in this film; the core cast is outstanding, and there's a lot of truth towards recovering from a mental illness. And even when the film gets formulaic, I can somehow forgive it because I was invested enough in these characters and their struggles that I could watch things get a bit silly as long as it felt good. But for me, something in the film made me deeply uncomfortable in a way that nearly ruined everything. The first half, which just about every reviewer agrees is the better part of the film, hit some emotional button to the point where I was actually considering walking out of the theater, going home, and curling up under a blanket with a teddy bear. Obviously, I didn't, partly because I've never walked out of a film in my life, but also because I saw it with a friend and it would be a dick move to leave. That, and we were up in Kew Gardens; I had traveled way too far to run out on a film. It was strong enough that even though the second half followed the romcom formula to a tee, I was totally okay with it because it made me feel fluffy and good. My friend came out saying that she thought it was a great portrayal of people with mental illness, and for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to agree.
It took me a lot of time to realize why; there are some really mixed messages about Pat's illness. On one hand, we see that he's a regular guy who's had problems, but is attempting to work through them, first by himself, but then realizes he is much better on meds. His parents' worries and reactions towards his every move are sometimes frustrating, but completely understandable and accurate. He's not malicious or scarred from some childhood trauma, he just got dealt some shitty mind cards and has to learn how to get around them.
On the other hand, I feel like some of the humor in the first half undermines that level-headed and sympathetic look at him. Not to say that he needs to be handled with kid gloves; anyone who's been in a mental hospital can tell you that sometimes, in retrospect, some things people do or think because of their illness is kind of hilarious. But sometimes it feels like a line gets crossed. Pat throwing a book out the window and waking up his parents to rant about it? Funny, completely plausible for someone with poor impulse control. (Anyone who has tried to read through A Song of Ice and Fire would understand.) That kid who keeps trying to interview the Solitanos about Pat's illness. Funny, in that ha-ha wait-yeah-there-are-people-who-would-really-do-that way. Having Pat's dad chase him down the block? Cathartic. The actual conflict leading up to that is tense, raw, and upsetting, but then we get this scene of all the neighbors waking up and complaining, and it just felt so...false. It seemed like something out of a sitcom when the main characters are having a loud argument over something stupid, when in fact we just watched a pretty violent scene. The other thing it reminded me of was the nigger on a horse scene in Django, though in Django it's a standalone scene establishing the ridiculousness of racism (one dude on a horse is a pearl-clutching event!), whereas in Silver Linings, it directly follows something very serious. We laugh at the idea of Django on a horse being a spectacle, but in my opinion there's much less laughing matter about being woken up by an actual domestic disturbance. It's a cheap and hollow laugh that turns a serious scene into "Ha, look at these guys! Waking up the neighborhood with family members punching each other!" Both Pat and his father's anger problems are suddenly the butt of a joke.
The scene where Pat runs into his former boss also really bothered me; I just didn't find it funny that she genuinely scared for her safety. It's not even really expanded upon that people are afraid of Pat; I think it's mentioned once, yet that would be very important for someone trying to get their life back together. Instead, it's played for laughs, and not just 'oh hoho, misunderstanding!' laughs; we're supposed to laugh because Pat doesn't even get that he comes off as creepy. In the end, I realized that I don't think the film really cares that much about portraying mental illness as much as having quirkily fucked up people who can somehow fix each other by being together. Note that in the ending, we don't see if Pat has a job? Or possibly even his own place? All we know is that everything's well and good because golly gee, those two kids got together! When I think about it, the end suggests that falling in love with someone is just as important to well-being as medication and therapy. Maybe even more, since I can only infer that Pat is still on meds. And what about Tiffany? Pat is at least in therapy (with, of course, a charmingly foreign therapist because movies); am I really to believe that dancing and a new relationship has solved Tiffany's emotional problems? I guess. The film is iffy about caring about mental illness in the first half, and downright doesn't give a fuck by the second, and I think that's a serious problem.
Or is it? After all, I don't know if David O. Russell (or original novelist Matthew Quick) ever intended to make a film that furthered how mental illness is portrayed in pop culture; maybe they just wanted to tell a love story about some severely fucked up people. If Tarantino is allowed to wrap the horrors of slavery into a spaghetti western, why can't Quick or Russell mix some mental illness into a romcom? Do I expect this film to do too much like some expect Django to do? Is it possible that, being a Tarantino fan and a Russell neophyte, I'm giving Tarantino slack because I already really like him? Or that I'm being unfair because while the lasting social remnants of slavery affect me personally, it's not in the intense way that mental illness does.
You know what? I probably am, at least a little bit. In the end, even if Django deserved to be called out as much as other people have done, Silver Linings deserves to be called out even more because portrayals of mental illness don't get the same discussions that race does. Not to mention that Silver Linings can't help but sugarcoat some of the darkest moments with humorous situations or the Black Best Friend.
Also Django actually has complexity and sticks to doing something new, whereas Silver Linings decides halfway through to ditch originality and go full romcom.
I guess in the end, I really think Tarantino thought a lot more about showing slavery in Django than Russell (or Quick) thought about showing mental illness.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
For Your Consideration screenplay minireviews
It's that season where the film industry gives awards to the film industry and at least a million people think they're clever and edgy by pointing out the cliqueness of it all! There are a bunch of screenplays available for anyone to download this year over here, and I thought I'd jot down a few thoughts on what I've read.
- Pitch Perfect: So formulaic it hurts, along with some "lol asians" thrown in for fun. The idea of blowing up the a capella world and treating it as Serious Business for comedy is actually a pretty good idea, but it's just...obvious most of the time. It's like Bring It On with singing and stereotypes, except not now that I think about it because Bring It On's rivals were actually fun and sympathetic and interesting. I've heard the actual film manages to be fun enough to ignore the formula, which is pretty impressive.
- Ted: I have to admit that I really didn't think much of Ted when it came out, and while I do like Family Guy I have a lot of problems with Seth MacFarlane. That being said, overall Ted is really pleasantly surprising; sure, it's another 'funny doofy stoner with mediocre job and stoner friend(s) has to grow up to get girlfriend back' story, but with a pretty fun spin on it. It's not as formulaic as it appears, and has the MacFarlane humor but with characters that aren't all sociopaths. Well, except for one or two. But that's okay.
- Something that is not okay though: MacFarlane really needs to let go of the ASIAN SPEAKY LIKE THIS COOK LIVE DUCK HAVE NAME SOUND FUNNY bullshit. Just stop.
- Django Unchained: God I love how Tarantino writes. The original screenplay is overstuffed and isn't quite the bloody awesomeness that is the final film, but it's got that charm, language, and panache that makes him so fucking great.
- Looper: Damn. I've always heard great things about Rian Johnson, but this is the only thing that I've actually read, and it's really impressive. He really knows how to create a world without explaining every single little thing or mechanic so he can focus on actually telling a compelling story. I mean, who didn't love when Old Joe tells Young Joe that he's not fucking explaining how time travel works because there are more important things going on?
Next to come: Savages (I've read the first few pages and I'm already turned off; wargasms? Really?), The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Lincoln, Silver Linings Playbook, Flight (only because I need to find out how the hell it has been nominated for anything because oh my god this is why the film did not work).
Saturday, January 5, 2013
A word on some acting nominations
In my Django Unchained review, I wrote that Jamie Foxx is outshined by Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio. Many people have said that he was simply out-acted, but to be honest, I think they're talking less about acting in general and more about Acting.
You know what I mean by Acting. The stuff that wins awards, that you notice right off the bat and can say "Damn, that is good acting! So good I noticed it!" DiCaprio and Waltz are getting recognition for their performances, and while I don't want to downplay how good they are (DiCaprio manages to make plantation owner Calvin Candie despicable without being cartoonish, and I'm convinced that Christoph Waltz is incapable of being anything less than stunning), it kind of irks me that they're getting all the clout while Foxx is left in the dust. Because let's face it, Foxx isn't doing an Acting part; Django's evolution is much more nuanced than King Schultz's charismatic demeanor or Candie's casual cruelty. Foxx does a great job of showing Django's growth from an uneducated slave to bounty hunter sidekick to guile revenge hero. For most of the film Django has to put a cool exterior over the emotions roiling inside of him and play the part of a despicable man in order to get to his wife. It's the most important part to get right, and Foxx hits it perfectly, but it's also much less noticeable as great acting because of the subtlety and stoicism of the part. It's understandable but pretty frustrating that he's probably not going to get much recognition for the title role of the film, and a little cringeworthy since the two actors who are getting recognition happen to be playing the white savior and evil slave owner in a film predominately about a black slave.
And, you know what, I'll be honest; I really liked Leo's performance, but I think a lot of the praise he's getting is more about the part than about him. I had read about how much trouble he had with getting into the head of Candie, and to be honest, when I saw the film, I expected a worse person than I got. It really seems to me like there's this giant shock!! factor about the character of Candie, where Leo apparently deserves extra special credit for being strong or brave enough to play someone so racist, and it does make me roll my eyes a little. Candie is a terrible racist with no regard for the lives of slaves, but let's be honest: that wasn't out of the ordinary in those times. I can't really put my finger on how to explain this, but it seems a bit self-congratulatory on the part of white people, like bringing to light how horrible people actually were is such an emotional burden to carry. And it's like, a bloo bloo bloo white people. I don't know how much sense I'm actually making (and I definitely don't mean this to turn into a white people/black people thing), but I guess I get the feeling that he's getting praise for the wrong reasons. He should be commended for keeping Candie out of goofy cartoon zone, which would have been pretty easy to fall into, but he's far from magical or show-stealing and I feel like everyone's getting baited by Acting and sort of forgetting about how great regular damn acting can be.
(It may seem like I should go off on Christoph Waltz as well, but he's a genuine show stealer who makes sure his character is so much more than the white savior. Also he's so charming he probably poops charisma and I'm kind of in love with him and his inexplicably amazing beard.)
I really shouldn't rail too hard on Leo though, because he really did have to work to get through that part. If there's an example of someone racking up nominations that I think are kind of silly, it's Alan Arkin in Argo. Now, don't get me wrong, Alan Arkin is great in it, but Alan Arkin could play the snappy old man with snappy lines that he does in his damn sleep. The draw of Argo is that it does nothing new, but everything well (or at least well enough that you don't mind the last scene or the fact that the final chase is kind of silly), and it's really the same with the acting. Arkin, Goodman and Cranston, are gruff and a little crotchety yet loyal and funny, and they're the standouts of the film, but it's the comedic equivalent of Acting: beloved stars in their comfort zone. I don't want to downplay their performances, but they're one of those "of course" type of roles.
But maybe I'm jumping the gun; the Golden Globes are...the Golden Globes, and the Oscars haven't been announced yet, so maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised. I might just be too cynical; good Acting is still good acting, after all. I guess I just wish there was more room for subtlety when discussing performances.
But then again, I'm also really sad that Denis Lavant won't be getting any major recognition for Holy Motors, which completely relies on both amazing acting and Acting and batshit insane magic art movie mojo, so maybe I'm just a little frustrated with the Hollywood machine in general.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)