Weiner

Weiner (dir. Josh Kreigman & Elizabeth Steinberg) follows former congressman Anthony Weiner through his 2013 campaign for the mayor of New York City, an an attempt at redemption after resigning from congress due to a twitter sex scandal. The the film is just as much a profile of Weiner himself as of his 2013 mayoral campaign, but his wife, Huma Abedin, is just as interesting to watch. She may not be the main focus, but with the former congressman’s reputation marred by a sex scandal, she’s in the spotlight just as much as him. There are really two ways to look at Weiner:

1. The Humiliation of the Saint Huma Abedin by the Campaign of Anthony Weiner

“First Lady” gets a surprising about of scrutiny for a completely non-political position, and while Huma Abedin works in politics as Hilary Clinton’s right hand man, her prescence and image is what’s on trial. Weiner introduces footage of Weiner and Abedin at home, both when on campaign and mundanely, getting their baby ready, comparing tomato sauces. At first it’s a look at the reality of their domestic life as opposed to the idyllic one in Weiner’s early ads, but as the campaign goes on, we’re seeing the stress not just on their marriage, but on Huma as she becomes less of an person and ally and more of a symbol for Weiner’s campaign and the press.

After all, she’s not the one running for mayor, and though she’s involved in the logistics of his campaign, her role is The Wife. She has to be on point even more than him, but her body language shows her real feelings. She’s rarely interviewed in the film, but almost always on screen with him, showing the uncertainty and simmering anger that she’s not allowed to display. There’s regular debate as to whether Weiner’s behavior disqualifies him for public office, but Weiner never lets us forget that his actions are not victimless. And while the campaign uses her to prove that Weiner’s an upstanding dude who’s truly a better person, the press jumps on her as the symbol of Weiner’s sins. “Why does she stay,” a deeply personal question, is asked repeatedly, with answers ranging from “love is blind” to “emotional abuse” from people who have never met her. All she’s actually got to express herself is her body language, and even that is carefully analyzed when she’s in public. She suffers the fallout twice - as a wife, and as a Wife of Politician; doubly objectified. Even with all her political clout she’s still trapped in societal gender expectations.

2. Anthony Weiner - all passion, no impulse control

The film starts off introducing Wiener as a brash, sometimes abrasive congressman who’s powered by a genuine passion for policy that helps people. He makes C-SPAN a spectacle, which draws people to him; his passion for what’s right is the type of fire we want in someone representing our rights. And then he makes himself into the spectacle when his boner shot is accidentally posted on twitter and tries to deny it in the most ineffective way possible. He’s got a fast talking charm that gets him over with the people, obviously a fantastic asset for a politician. But what’s quite obvious is that he’s got no filter for it; he uses that same charm to hit on followers. The passion devolves into picking fights, shouting at pundits, and being defensive. He views himself as a victim, refusing to drop out of the mayoral race because it would feel like letting his “bullies” win.

The film doesn’t delve too far into making Weiner self-ruminate; the filmmakers are willing to let his difficulty with introspection speak for itself. At one point en route to a community meeting, when asked why he has trouble talking about his feelings, he asks the cameraman if there’s a word for the “fly on the wall” style where the fly talks to you. A the end of the film, as Weiner watches the disastrous final moments of his campaign on the news, he’s asked why he’s let all of this be filmed, and all he can do is shrug. The closest he gets to genuine introspection is a moment musing over whether politics can warp expectations and understanding of relationships. If the question for Huma is “Why do you stay,” the one for Weiner is “Why do you do this?” That question could refer to the politics, the yelling, the cheating, or the sexting, or all of the above. Is this pathological, an example of narcissism or sex addiction? Is it a fatal character flaw, a lack of control or inability to understand consequences? And the last question, which goes for all politicians: is there any altruism involved, or is it all about power and influence?

Of course, in both views, the press is a major player in; they’re the ones who document and analyze the couple’s behavior, promoting the endless scrutiny. Would things be radically different without the existence of social media? Did the same technology that made him popular with the general public lead to his downfall? And are the mainstream press reporting news, or just latching on to a salacious story involving a man with an unfortunate last name? Are the actual issues being lost in favor of prying into personal lives of politicians? Do they treat politicians like celebrities to the detriment of actual government?

Weiner brings up a lot of questions about politics, the press, and about people. Why does someone become a politician? Why are non-political scandals important? Why is “first X” an important figure? Why do people sext/cheat? Is sexting really cheating? What is the press meant for? Why do people stay with cheaters? The film has all the content, but it’s up to us to interpret it.

Swiss Army Man

Swiss Army Man’s been getting buzz since its premiere at Sundance in January; know as the “Daniel Radcliffe farting corpse movie,” it ended up with positive reviews, despite the initial walkouts. It’s almost entirely a two man show; Paul Dano is Hank, who is stuck on a desert island, ready to commit suicide. He’s stopped by the appearance of Manny (Radcliffe), the aforementioned farting corpse, and together they bond while trying to find their way home. The premise would actually make a pretty cool video game: teach your dead friend about life (and its joys) to unlock various abilities which are then used in puzzles to progress toward home. But the film is more than just an epic fart joke; it’s about why we bother to try at all, with a darkly comic lens. Life (and your body) is super gross, but there’s no reason to be ashamed of that, and there really is stuff worth sticking around for. Connections with other (gross) people make life worth it.

Frustratingly, it chooses to represent isolation in the weakest way possible: unrequited love. “Love” isn’t even applicable -- it’s infatuation to a creepy point. The Girl is the symbol of meaningful connection, and romance is apparently the backbone of life. While Hank eventually figures out that friendship is just as meaningful through his journey with Manny, a large majority of time is spent focusing on The Girl as the reason to be. The Girl that Hank’s pretty much stalking, considering he’s only seen her on the bus and yet knows her full name, regularly checks her instagram and has a creepshot of her as his phone home screen. It’s past time we stopped portraying petty male infatuatiomn as love; Paulette and the UPS guy from Legally Blonde had more interaction than Hank and Sarah, and Paulette could barely string two words together around him. Swiss Army Man eventually does acknowledge that Hank is being really creepy, but it’s sort of offhand, more of a funny background event. Hank’s entire view of life is based off of her. Exploring how his upbringing helped make him so insular would have been much more interesting; the snippets we get are heartbreaking and grossly funny. But instead ‘tfw no gf’ is used as shorthand for the most terrible loneliness.

Personally, I think that shorthand contributes to the Nice Guy dynamic; infatuation and making romance The Holy Goal is so normalized that without it, you must be Lonely and Miserable and Incomplete, so why can’t Girls understand that you need to be complete? You don’t have to know her or care about how she feels, because nobody deserves to feel Incomplete, and only a total jerk would actively deny happiness to someone else. Therefore, a Girl who won’t even go out with you once is being a total asshole to you!

It’s also disappointing because the directors (who also wrote the script) do seem to get the crushing isolation that causes (and is caused by) depression. Hank’s detachment from his father shows how a gap can become an impassible crevasse, and even the anecdote about his mother is the sort of small bullshit that somehow makes itself really meaningful in your life. We also assume that he has no friends (although it’s never explicitly stated) and that has a ton of impact on you, both growing up and as an adult. Hank’s issues that have lead him to suicide are about initiating relationships and opening up, and there’s so much more to that than romance. Hank was on a desert island before he ran away, and “deserted” doesn’t just mean The Girl isn’t there.

I suppose I wouldn’t be so sensitive if the suicidal state of mind weren’t portrayed so accurately (and with the appropriate amount of humor.) What stops Hank from hanging himself? Some random guy washes up on shore that he can at least talk to. Except when Hank goes to approach him, he forgets about the noose and almost dies anyway. The realization that the person who stopped him was actually a farting corpse? Back to plan S with a stronger noose. But wait -- the farts are useful! Farts saving his life is lowbrow as hell, but the dumbest things can get you out of that mindset. All the scatological humor fits perfectly with the absurdities of life, presented in a less morbid fashion. Just as the dumbest thing can develop into a hangup years later, the silliest thing may lift you up just enough to keep going on.

The Invitation

 

The Invitation (dir. Karyn Kusama) is a smart and expertly crafted psychological thriller that explores the long term effects of grief. After Will and his wife Eden split after the death of their child, Eden disappears for two years and abruptly returns with a new husband, David, and invites Will, his new girlfriend, and several of their friends to their house for a party. The situation is already awkward at best for Will; he and Eden used to live in this house, and she had cheated on him with David, and a collision with a coyote leaves him and his girlfriend Kira shaken, but its Eden and David’s new blissful personalities that truly rattles Will. They credit “The Invitation,” the program they attended for two years in Mexico, for their newfound happiness, and the happiness of their new roommate Sadie. Will’s instincts tell him that this “Invitation” is a cult that’s unhealthy at best, but he’s carrying so much emotional baggage that it’s almost impossible to know for sure.

That uncertainty is the main tension in the film; things do seem very “off” from the beginning, but Will is obviously not starting off in a good state of mind. He’s going to the house he used to share with his ex and his deceased son, seeing her and the man she cheated on him with. Kusama takes advantage of framing, sound design, and focus to unnerve; a simple trip up the stairs becomes ominous in slow motion, the lavish dinner party turns into a barrage of overwhelming voices and grotesque chewing. Although the house is huge, each room feels claustrophobic.

Will obviously has not moved on yet, but has the Invitation program helped Eden and David do so? Or does it just allow them to avoid the pain that Will is still stuck in? Is Sadie’s happy-go-lucky, sexually open approach a sign of inner peace, or of desperation? The situation seems fishy to Will, but the other partygoers are unconcerned; they admit that Sadie’s presence and Eden and David’s newfound bliss is strange, but they feel that weirdness is acceptable as long as they’re happy. When the couple insists on introducing “The Invitation” to them, they encourage Will to be “open-minded.”

Grief and depression are an uphill struggle to overcome, and hard for others to support or understand. Immediately after the loss, people can handle the initial devastation, but there’s a point where you’re supposed to be “over it”, and if you’re not, people will eventually lose sympathy, or just becomes frustrated with you. With the outside world side eyeing you and the sadness overwhelming you, it’s impossible not to wonder if something is wrong with you, and the program provides both an easy answer to that fear and a concrete method to overcoming that sadness. Does everyone else truly believe that Eden and David are happy, or are they just happy that the couple isn’t moping around anymore?

After a bit of lag during second act, the last act veers away from the psychological to a much more violent genre, and though it’s shocking, it’s not out of place. The entire film has been asking how to handle grief, and the last parts, the ending in particular, show the consequences of unprocessed pain.

The Tribe

Miroslav Slaboshpitsky's The Tribe, about a young man at a boarding school for the deaf who becomes involved in a clandestine crime ring, has been going around the festival circuit for a while, and is coming out in limited release on Wednesday, the 17th. It's gotten a lot of buzz since its premiere at Cannes last year, and I had the chance to see it back in March at the New Directors/New Films.

The premise alone deserves praise; while it has a simple 'climbing the ranks of a criminal organization' story, all the characters speak exculsively in Ukranian sign language, which is left unsubtitled. That combined with the long, often static takes gives it the feel of a modern silent film. Unfortunately, it turns out that wasn't enough to engross me, and it's taken me a while to figure out why. At first I thought it was the lack of information that led my mind to wander; how could I get attached to a character in such a simple and well worn story when I didn't even know his name and he looked like 90% of the other students/gang members? But the real problem is in Slaboshpitsky's formal choices, which end up undermining the attempt to evoke silent film.

All of the cast are non-actors, and it does show; the attempt at naturalism just ends up being unremarkable, which was what made it hard for me to differentiate most of the characters. Without dialogue, or even a confirmed name for out main character (the credits reveal his name is Sergey, but there's no way to know that from the film alone), the actor has to make non-verbal choices that give the character life onscreen. Silent film acting focuses on a different set of skills since the audience can't hear (or in this case, understand) not just what the character says, but how he says it, and these non-actors aren't trained for that. The choice to shoot entirely in wide shots makes this worse; the close up provides the most powerful emotional connection between the actor and the audience, and The Tribe is determined to leave us detached from its characters. So without dialogue, compelling performances, or closeups, most of the film falls flat.

I also feel I should mention that The Tribe occasionally throws in a shocking scene seemingly just for the visceral reaction; there's a gruesome accidental death whose only impact is to put Sergey in a new position that will move the plot forward and a medical procudure one step above back-alley that lingers for way too long. The actual violence is brutal but not gratitious (with the exception of one late scene), and actually fits the feel of the film without forcing a reaction from the viewer, so it's frustrating to have to sit through some scene made specifically to make you uncomfortable.

In short, The Tribe's form ends up more interesting than its content, and that form actually ends up hindering the film as a whole.

[If you want to read my first reaction when I saw it back in March, which was shorter, blunter, and has some very mild spoilers, you can read my letterboxd review here.]

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.

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.

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.

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!)

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.

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.

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.

The Artist

Saw The Artist this Thursday and I loved it, but to be honest, I’m having trouble articulating why. I usually can’t stand it when people use words like “cute” or “charming” or the phrase “has heart,” but really, that’s exactly how I would describe The Artist. It has that old charm of classic Hollywood films. Let’s face it, we all can guess how the film is going to end. But just like the really good classic films, the fun is in following the characters on that path.


The plot to this film is very similar to Singin’ In The Rain; both films are about a silent film star trying to stay relevant as new stars rise in the talkies. I’m going to be completely honest with you; I have not seen the entire film. (I know, I know.) I was supposed to but…well, it was freshman year of college. Therefore, I’m not going to go into comparisons between Jean Dujardin and Gene Kelly or Bernice Bejo and Debbie Reynolds. That’s just silly anyway; although The Arist definitely wants you to think of Singin’ In The Rain, making a direct comparison is unfair. The Artist is a silent film, knows it’s silent, and takes advantage of that. The main characters perfectly show the difference between the silent and talkie era. Dujardin’s character, George Valentin, is perfectly charismatic in his mannerisms. He has an easy smile, a knack for physical comedy, and the broad mannerisms that make an excellent silent film star. Bejo’s character, the aptly named Peppy Miller, has the same knack for dancing and physical comedy, but she also has an extra spark; she’s talkative. Compared to the other characters, she speaks a mile a minute, even though we only get a few dialogue cards. Her jabbery energy allows her to easily transition from her first role in a Valentin film to a top billing star in talkies, but she still keeps her love for silent movies. I should also mention James Cromwell, who serves well as Clifton, George’s long-suffering butler.

As I said before, the film’s ending is not a surprise. What is a surprise is the amount of depth in the characters; underneath all the technical and nostalgic elements of the film is two very emotional performances. This is melodrama not in the disparaging sense, but in the sense that we are shown these stylized yet deep emotions.

Not that the technical elements should be ignored. After all, making a silent film in this day and age is, at the very least, ballsy as hell. But it immediately shows you that, as any intro film professor will tell you, these films are never truly silent. The score is beautifully retro, matching but not overstating the melodrama of the story.
We are also shown this in the first scene, where we see the orchestra playing along with George’s latest film. There also are two moments with sound, and both of them focus on a specific element of sound design. There is a large difference between lack of audible dialogue, which is what we usually think of when we think of silent films, and lack of foley and sound effects, which is often forgotten.

If The Artist is playing in your area, you should definitely go see it right now. It’s fun and moving and a love letter to 20s cinema without damning the progress of sound. It’s been getting a lot of awards buzz, and frankly, it deserves all of it.

[originally posted 12/25/11]

The Tree of Life (or death?)

I’ve been talking for a while about my trepidation about seeing this film. It’s one of those films that’s almost impossible to explain to someone who’s not familiar with art films, and I’d never recommend it blind to someone. Tree of Life was not completely confusing or boring like I had feared, but it surprised me, though I’m not sure in a good way.

London River

I saw London River at a free IFC member screening, so I came in knowing very little about it besides…well, there’s a white woman and a black man that somehow get involved in each other’s lives. I never remember the synopsis that comes with these emails before the film; this is mostly from the picture attached:

And basically, I was right. The premise is that both Brenda Blethyn’s character Elizabeth and Soigui Kouyate’s character Ousmane have come to London to find their adult children after the 2005 London terrorist bomb attacks. Elizabeth comes from Gursney, England, after her daughter doesn’t return her calls, and Ousmane comes from France (although he is originally from West Africa) to try and find his son Ali, who he has almost no information about and hasn’t seen since he was six. Unsurprisingly, the two cross paths repeatedly, and it turns out that their children knew each other.

But the story isn’t really about the children; it’s about the conflict between the parents. Ousmane brings information about Elizabeth’s daughter, who was taking an Arabic class with his son, but Elizabeth, already scandalized by the fact that her daughter was living in a Muslim neighborhood, is automatically suspicious. They keep running into each other throughout the film, and eventually Elizabeth’s prejudice begins to erode as they realize that they have more in common than they thought.

If that sounds like I’m painting this film as super-cliche, well, it’s definitely kind of trite. Elizabeth even has a line that says the “more in common” theme. The overall message has been done before, and almost definitely done better. (A. O. Scott of the New York Times points to Driving Miss Daisy as an example, but I have not seen that film). Frankly, I’ve never liked that genre of film; Gran Torino is probably an exception, but to a certain extent it seems like the white character is getting congratulated at the end for not being a fucking racist, which of course is patiently taught by the black/asian/whatever character. Big whoop. You stopped being an asshole, do you want a goddamn medal?

I’m also very iffy about the use of a terrorist attack as a backdrop, but I think it works out alright in this context. Any twenty-something who lives alone knows that parents worry about their children, and we can all imagine the anxiety caused by a disaster in the vicinity of friends or family. There is also a very interesting element with Ousmane and his son; knowing nothing about his son besides the fact that he is Muslim and lives in London, when the news reveals that this was most likely a suicide bombing, he worries that his son might have been involved.

While those are points in the film’s favor, the real saving grace of London River is the acting. Sotigui Kouyake is a subtle, naturalist actor who can convey emotion with just his body, and Brenda Blethyn is fantastic at portraying both unease, anxiety, and sorrow. They are really the ones driving, or perhaps saving this film, depending on how you feel about the premise. For me, the writing wasn’t nearly good enough to overcome the triteness of the core themes.