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Adventures In Netflix #8-Gabriel Ricard

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:58:08 +0000

Adventures in Netflix #8

By Gabriel Ricard

Hello, I’m Gabriel Ricard, and you’re not.

I know.

Thank-God for small favors, right?

Right.

It doesn’t seem like there’s too much to get into this month. Between last month’s column and this one the great stories have been few and fairly non-existent in between. A few of the old-timers went. Most notably, Charlton Heston. But that one was in the neighborhood of a long time coming. I don’t think it really qualifies as any great surprise. I was never a big fan of Chuck outside of his work in such science-fiction classics as Planet of The Apes (I’m purposely neglecting the sequel he appeared in)¸ The Omega Man and Soylent Green (hint: It’s not chicken). Nothing against the guy. He was just a small part of Old Hollywood that I couldn’t get into

But it did make me think.

Which I do from time to time.

It reminded me of this transition we seem to be in right now. I suppose you could say film is always in a state of change, but somehow, it seems more obvious than usual at this moment in time.

The way it is right now there’s very few names from Heston’s era left. Most of them have either died (Heston) or gone into retirement (Sean Connery and Paul Newman). As much as I’d like to imagine otherwise, Christopher Lee and Ernest Borgnine are probably not going to be doing movies in 2018. And then you go on to the ones who were at the top when I really started paying attention to film in the early 90’s. Al Pacino, Jack Nicholson, Harrison Ford, Bruce Willis, Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep, Bill Murray, Morgan Freeman and so on. Everyone I just mentioned is at either close-to or well past sixty. Don’t get me wrong though. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Nothing at all. Age has never been nor will ever be an indication of talent. Every last name I mentioned is still doing some great stuff out there. And there’s no reason to believe they won’t continue to do so. But when I stop and think about it, I realize that most of them will probably not be working a whole lot (if at all) by the time I turn thirty.

And I guess it’s weird to imagine that there will soon be a time when so many of my favorites will be regulated to whatever history decides to do with them.

Not that there aren’t any young talents I’m paying attention to. That’s the upside. Even when the movies themselves aren’t measuring up, there never seems to be a shortage of actors and actresses doing great work and making plans for the future.

I still like to go back to my long-time favorites. I relive their past glories and keep an eye out for what they’ve got lined up next. I remind myself to enjoy them while they’re still around. The great thing about acting is that theoretically your best work is almost never permanently behind you. As long as you’re still alive. Peter O’Toole in Venus is a good example. And all those guys I mentioned are indeed still alive and still working. They may not have as much mileage left as they did thirty years ago, but that doesn’t change what they’ve done so far. And it certainly doesn’t change what they’re doing right now.

It’s the same deal with directors.

But that’s a whole other rant for a whole other column.

We’re better off getting into this month’s reviews.

So, let’s give it a shot, shall we?

The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

Directed by: Wes Anderson

Written by: Wes Anderson, Roman Coppola, Jason Schwartzman

Starring: Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman

Sticking to a particular style is obviously no real sin in filmmaking. The great directors of this or any other generation all have their trademarks in terms of casting, visuals, music and so on. It’s not this bit of common sense alone that makes them great, but rather being able to balance these things to create a memorable or even classic film.

Starting with the critically acclaimed Rushmore, writer/director Wes Anderson established an early reputation for deftly blending all of these elements to create films who were constantly gaining ground and respectability for their unique take on common film themes like dysfunctional relationships (especially those dealing with family) and seeking redemption in the face of increasingly strange circumstances. The only problem with setting the bar so high so early is that sooner or later it’s going to be hard to top the last thing. It started with 2005’s The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (which I personally consider to be a great movie) and continues with his latest film, The Darjeeling Limited.

As you’d probably expect, all the pieces of what’s now considered the standard Wes Anderson film are there. Starting with Anderson-regular Owen Wilson trying to pick up the pieces of his broken family by bringing his brothers together (Jason Schwartzman and Adrien Brody) for a spiritual trip through India and on to a church where their mother (Angelica Huston) now lives as a nun. Anderson’s covered the dysfunctional family trail before in most of his films. It’s a territory he’s done some great work in by crafting characters that are at once quirky and believable. Memorable and absorbing all on their own. He goes for the same effect here. All of the brothers are a little off the mark in some way or another. But somehow, in spite of strong performances from all three leads (especially Adrien Brody), the end-result Anderson is seemingly striving for here doesn’t quite make it the way it did in The Royal Tenenbaums or The Life Aquatic.

The idea he’s always appeared to go for is that family will eventually endure in spite of awkward silence and past regrets. It just doesn’t hit the mark this time around. The problem has a lot to do with the story itself. Anderson’s been down this road so many times now that it’s starting to get easy to predict exactly where he’s going to take us next. It generally doesn’t bode well for a film’s plot when you can see the dramatic punches coming a mile away. It undermines the great work from the cast. Even worse is that it makes it hard to care about what they’re going through and whether or not they’re going to get where they need to be as people.

And maybe, it’s possible that some blame does belong to the main cast. There’s not a single bad performance in The Darjeeling Limited. The chemistry between Wilson, Brody and Schwartzman is mostly dead-on. You’re not going to experience much of a strain buying the three of them as brothers struggling in their own separate ways to re-establish the connections that were nearly destroyed by their death of their father one year prior. The movie loses some of its strength though when you begin to dig a little deeper. The script moves at such a fast pace and makes so much effort to try and pack in everything Anderson wanted to do that something along the lines of character depth got lost along the way. This is undoubtedly the main thing that inevitably makes Darjeeling something of a misfire and a disappointment. Yeah, there’s some growth and change to be found between the moment Brody’s character first boards the train and the last time Wilson suggests they go for a drink and a cigarette (one of the film’s runners). But the transition and nature of the relationship between the three brothers changes so suddenly that you’re probably going to wonder if you just missed something. Don’t worry. You didn’t. Look all you want. The build-up necessary to make us care just doesn’t exist. Instead, the movie spends ninety minutes wandering. Wandering through some truly beautiful cinematography of India’s incredible landscapes and cities. Through an excellent score combining Anderson’s usual music tastes (indie folk combined with classic rock and pop) with a gorgeous score that borrows completely from a number of Indian cinema classics. Through the expected offbeat dialogue and odd characters. Through moments of tragedy turning to deadpan comedy and vice-versa. All of those things manage to more or less come together the same way they did in his other movies.

Only it’s not enough this time. Without a strong story or particularly sympathetic characters to back it up, it’s all just a lot of really nice window dressing that doesn’t have the force necessary to stay with you when it’s over. Even the short film, The Hotel Chevalier, which features Schwartzman and Natalie Portman (who briefly appears in the main film) fails to be much more than a lengthy prologue that doesn’t add anything significant to the final product. This is not a bad film in any sense of the word. Just a flawed one whose good points can’t outweigh the bad ones like they did in The Life Aquatic.

It may not be fair to compare Darjeeling to what Anderson’s done before. The hope for most directors is to have each of their films stand alone and on the strength of its own merits. But when the cracks of a director relying on the same bag of tricks from movie to the movie begin to show, it’s hard not to compare and contrast. The Darjeeling Limited has enough to make it worth a watch. Whether it’s going to hold up and deserve repeated viewings is another thing altogether.

Japanese Hell (1999)

Directed by: Teruo Ishii

Written by: Teruo Ishii

Starring: Mutsumi Fujita, Hisayoshi Hirayama, Miki Sato

The name Teruo Ishii probably doesn’t ring a bell. When you run down the list of great all-time Japanese directors, his name isn’t likely to show up. But in the world of what-the-hell-was-that horror and psychotic B-movie abandon with a certain kind of charm severely lacking in most of its brethren, Ishii deserves not only your attention but quite possibly your respect. In a career spanning almost fifty years, Ishii directed some eighty-eight feature-length films. At times, with a budget that would have made Ed Wood look like Peter Jackson on another hobbit binge. Some of his films are brilliant. Most of them are very strange and occasionally troubling. Virtually none of them were made with the average cinema fan’s tastes in mind. But that still shouldn’t excuse you from looking him up. The only trouble with that is that in those eighty-eight films very of them have been legitimately brought over to the United States. Looking any further than the likes of Mediablasters or a similar company will probably take you to those creepy DVD stores in your local Chinatown.

There are a few films to work with though. Ishii’s Japanese Hell might not be the best one to start on, but it’s not the worst place either. Very loosely based (in spirit more than anything else) on Nobuo Nakagawa’s iconic horror-classic Jigoku, Japanese Hell was a combination of two separate films Ishii was working on in the twilight of his long career. The films eventually had to be combined due to budgetary limitations. The result from that is a piece of Asian horror strangeness that’s probably not going to be run through The Hollywood Remake Machine anytime soon. It won’t take more than twenty minutes of this to see why.

The big thing that’s important to remember with Japanese Hell is that in the strictest sense of the word it is not what you would call a good movie. The absurd plot is the least of it. A young girl (Mutsumi Fujita) named Rika is forced to bear witness to the stories and subsequent damnations of a child molester (the excellent Hisayoshi Hirayama) and the cult leader (Tetsuro Tamba) responsible for the infamous real-life Sarin gas attacks on a Tokyo subway in 1995. The only thing those two people have in common is that they’re both surely going to wind up in hell before it’s all said and done. Not to mention that it’s pretty much a guarantee that you’re not going to care about Rika’s involvement in the plot on even a basic level. Other than that, there’s nothing to take from the story except that it drags entirely too much. The child molester part of the story runs about ten minutes. The cult leader part runs for roughly the rest of the movie. This is where things slow down to a bizarre, endless crawl. We watch Tamba perpetrate one brutality after another (brainwashing, rape) and wait for his inevitable death and one-way elevator ride to hell.

The only thing about this part of the film that comes close to holding everything up is the sheer loathing that Ishii clearly has for his subjects. Especially where it concerns our faithful cult leader. And perhaps the reason why we were battered with images of cruelty and mass murder over and over again is because Ishii wants us to feel that way as well. Despite some pretty awful acting across the board, he does succeed on a certain gut level. The way anyone will if they bash you over the idea with a singular idea or image long enough and in just the right way. Ishii does this in spite of the movie’s many gaping flaws and you can almost feel the tension in his direction rising as the movie moves achingly slow towards the part we’ve all been waiting to see. Even if torture films aren’t necessarily your bag, you’ll be hard-pressed to feel anything for either Hirayama or Tamba when each of them wind up in hell for their unforgivable crimes.

Those are the parts where Ishii begins to have a little more fun. Or rather, what appears to be his definition of the word. The ridiculous costumes and staggeringly over-the-top violence of the hell-based torture sequences make up for the biggest reason why this might be worth checking out. On top of the way Ishii seems to change gears completely to an gleeful free-for-all of carnage and weirdness that moves so briskly you’re likely to sit back and go over what you had to eat that day. Just to make sure you’re witnessing is indeed part of the film and not the result of a bad double cheeseburger. Japanese Hell contains what is probably some of the most brutal cartoon violence you’re ever going to endure.

This is one of Ishii’s specialties. Strange doses of comedy between moments of gore that make Grindhouse look like a message of family-friendly hope brought to you by The 700 Club. This is the part that plays like a Power Rangers episode on LSD. Guilty-pleasure fun doesn’t even begin to describe the proceedings. It bears mentioning again that this is not the sort of trip intended for everybody. But anyone looking for something a little different in their horror diet would do well to at least look into this. And if you make it through to the truly bizarre ending, which acts as a sort of dot on the disbelief exclamation point, then you’re ready to delve further into the world of Teruo Ishii. It’s not the most technically well-made world out there, but it sure as hell promises to be anything but boring.

Save The Tiger (1973)

Directed by: John G. Avildsen

Written by: Steve Shagan

Starring: Jack Lemmon, Jack Gilford, Laurie Heineman

Lemmon scored his second Oscar win in 1974 for this harrowing portrayal of a man pushed to the edge of everything he has ever been able to understand. Aging, his business, his family, and even the nature and scope of the city he has made his home in. Twenty minutes in, you’re going to see why he won. Directed by John G. Avildsen (Rocky, Rocky V and the three Karate Kid films), Save The Tiger is another of Lemmon’s great dramatic roles. This column has covered this aspect of his career before (see The Days of Wine and Roses from issue five) and it’s worth getting into again. Especially when Lemmon these is primarily remembered for his late-career comedy comeback with Grumpy Old Men and the other senior citizen buddy films he made with real-life best friend Walter Mathau. There’s nothing wrong with those films, but if you really want to get a sense of what Lemmon could do as an actor, you would do well to check this one out.

As I’ve said before, Lemmon would play the desperation card a few times in his career. So much that The Simpsons based a character on him (Gil). Save The Tiger probably gives him the most room to run with this kind of character than any other film he did. It’s a good thing he went with it. Because he’s nothing short of brilliant as Harry Stoner, an embittered World War II veteran who runs an apparel company in Los Angeles. Harry is pushing fifty, stuck in a bad marriage, stuck with a company that’s sinking fast, and stuck realizing that the world had passed him by at some point where he wasn’t paying quite enough attention. The state of his company is where most of the film draws from. Harry knows he’ll be lucky if they make it through one more season. The same way he knows he’ll do anything, including hiring prostitutes (a great performance from Lara Parker) for his major clients. And an arsonist (some memorable sleaze from Thayer David) to torch one of his plants and get enough money from the insurance to pay off some of those debts that are eating his company from the knees up. A company that comes to represent everything he has left.

The beautiful thing about this powerhouse character study by screenwriter Steve Shagan is the way it makes a clear distinction between what Stoner loves and what he needs. It’s not that Stoner feels any great affection for his company. It just happens to be all he has to call his own. Right down to the people who rely on him for a job. We see early on that the war clearly had an effect on him. One he never quite understood himself or was able to properly recover from. And as things get closer to oblivion, as the situation gets more frantic and desperate, that effect begins to take hold. Screaming into a full-blown meltdown that stood then and will stand now as one of Lemmon’s finest moments as an actor. The tragedy of his character is that in the end even he isn’t sure what he stands for anymore. What it is that gets him out of bed every morning and compels him to go forward. A survival instinct is what the story seems to suggest. It’s the same one that barely got him through that war. The only trouble comes out of the realization that even Harry doesn’t know what he’s fighting for anymore. And it’s a weakness that can’t do anything but catch up with him a pretty vicious way.

Avildsen was smart to be as unobtrusive as possible when it came to how this thing is handled in terms of pacing and cinematography. When the camera knows to match the isolation and claustrophobia Harry feels in a city of millions and when to just keep to the background and let him go on his own. He knows where the movie is going to draw its fire from, and for the most part, he simply follows the pace of the script and of Lemmon’s performance. Which a strong supporting cast enhances even further. Jack Gilford didn’t win an Academy Award for playing Phil Green, Stoner’s emotionally exhausted and terminally nervous second-in-command. He had to settle for just being nominated. But Gilford as one of the all-time great character actors plays flawlessly off of Lemmon. The chemistry between the two is unmistakable and gives each character further depth as they futilely try to navigate through the first day of the rest of their lives together. Credit should also go to Laurie Heineman as a young twenty-something Lemmon meets early on in the film. And runs into again later on when everything has officially moved half-a-step past the breaking point. In Heineman, Stoner sees a chance to find the thing he lost between coming back from the war and the start of the day the movie takes place in.

Whether he finally finds what he’s looking for is up in the air, but it’s just one more aspect of Save The Tiger that makes Shagan’s script that much sharper and Lemmon’s performance that much richer. The end-result message of the film seems to be the idea that nothing is what it seems and that time will go on whether you’re ready for the kicking and screaming reaction or not. Lemmon puts everything he has into summing this up in his character.

The result is a brilliant performance of a man who manages to have everything to lose in the same breath of knowing he has nothing to lose at the exact same time. The similarities between war and everyday life become more blurred as the movie marches on. The question the film poses is whether Stoner will realize this in time to save himself.

SCTV: Volume One: Network 90 (1981)

Directed by: John Blanchard, Jim Drake, John Bell

Written by: Eugene Levy, Dick Blasucci, John Candy

Starring: Eugene Levy, Dave Thomas, Catherine O’Hara

In the end, many of the roads that today lead to good comedy as we know it start here. Created in 1976 by a group of comedians based out of the Chicago and Toronto-based Second City troupe, SCTV would spend three years on Canadian television and in syndication across various American stations. By the time the show was picked up by NBC in 1981, the show, its characters and its concept had developed a tremendous cult following. A following that included such current names as Ben Stiller, Matt Groening, Judd Apatow and Conan O’Brien. The show would run for two seasons on NBC and one final season on HBO. In that time, the series managed to further its reputation as that of a future comedy classic in the making while in the same space launching a number of film careers. Many of which continue to be successful to this day.

The series had to go to hell and back to make it to DVD in 2004. Mostly, due to music rights. But it finally did. If you haven’t had a chance to give this series a moment of your time, you’re missing out on some of the most essential comedy ever committed to DVD or otherwise. Collecting the first nine episodes, Volume One details the initial moments in the spotlight for a group of writers and comedians who have now gone on to be known as some of the most talented and important names in modern comedy. It reads today like a who’s who list of talent. Harold Ramis (who had been involved in the show’s original Canadian thirty minute series but left shortly after the beginning of the NBC run), Eugene Levy, Rick Moranis, John Candy, Catherine O’Hara, Dave Thomas (not the Wendy’s guy), Joe Flaherty and Andrea Martin comprised the writing and acting of these first nine episodes. Which continued the trend SCTV had established of not only satirizing popular culture (Thomas’ Bob Hope impersonation remains one of the all-time great moments in comedy history) but also the concept of television itself. SCTV distanced itself from its cousin Saturday Night Live (whose original cast consisted of many former Second-City members) by creating an entire world for its characters to exist in. SCTV wasn’t just the name of the show. It was the name of the fictional network in which the characters worked and lived. Because not only did the show create countless memorable impersonations on the strength of its immensely gifted cast, it also built its universe on an entire host of original creations. From the legendary Canadian stereotypes Doug and Bob McKenzie (Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas) to SCTV station owner and President Guy Cabellero (Joe Flaherty) who used a wheelchair for “respect” purposes only. To Andrea Martin’s station manager Edith Prickley to John Candy’s walking pile of pretentious filmmaking in Johnny LaRue. Going from there to Catherine O’Hara as the drugs and booze riddled entertainer Lola Heatherton laughing through one nervous breakdown after another and greeting everyone she met by begging to bear their children. It gets even better with Eugene Levy as the smarmy Vegas-style comedian Bobby Bittman and Rick Moranis as the eerily accurate (MTV was still a little ways off) music video host Gerry Todd.

Those are just a few. The ones people still remember almost thirty years after they first appeared. To watch it now and put it against everything it later inspired is pretty impressive even on paper. It’s a concept that Matt Groening would later admit played heavily into his inspiration for Springfield. There’s a lot of comedy history in SCTV and indeed in this first volume of episodes. But unlike a lot of history, this has effortlessly managed to retain the same razor-sharp wit and relentless madness it threw down from its first moment going straight into its last. These early episodes do suffer a little from the cast obviously struggling to adjust to a much longer format. A lot of the material in the first few episodes was a combination of earlier sketches sandwiched into new bits. But as an introduction to this incredible universe and its wonderful characters that are still as hilarious today as they were in 1981, it’s still a hell of a great introduction. The episode in which SCTV tries to maintain a disintegrating relationship with its demanding sponsors alone is a treasure demanding to be seen by anyone who even pretends they know what’s both funny and wickedly smart at the same time.

Granted, some of the musical guests relevancy hasn’t held up quite as strong, but who cares? You didn’t come for the musical guests. You came to laugh your ass off. Don’t worry. It’s pretty much a sure-bet here.

Harold and Maude (1971)

Directed by: Hal Ashby

Written by: Colin Higgins

Starring: Ruth Gordon, Bud Cort, Vivian Pickles

Romantic comedies are not generally well known for their staying power. A few manage to hold on from one decade to the next. But by and large, it’s a mostly disposable genre. Haroldand Maude is one of the exceptions. A film that has retained its following and appeal almost forty years from when it was first released to poor critical reception and meager box-office returns. In fact, to many it’s known today as one of the greatest cult films of all time. Which isn’t something you can say for a lot of romantic comedies.

So, what’s the secret? It might have something to do with the plot. Harold (the excellent and vastly underrated Bud Cort) is your standard disenfranchised young man going nowhere fast and being well aware of that at the same time. A Goth several years before the term or culture ever came into being. We open with Harold spending the bulk of his time enjoying his many hobbies. Namely, faking suicides, attending funerals for people he’s never met, and driving around in a hearse while his mother (wonderfully played by Vivian Pickles) tries to set him up with a good woman and his deranged military uncle (Charles Tyner) hopes to have him in basic training as soon as possible. It’s during one of Harold’s funeral field trips that he meets Maude. The legendary Ruth Gordon in a performance far and away superior to her Oscar-winning role in Rosemary’s Baby. The story already has a touch of the odd going for it. Harold’s obsession with death and boredom with life in general are not the standard makings of a romantic lead.

Nor is Gordon as an octogenarian who takes the opposite approach to Harold’s view on life and death. The two things are constant and inevitable to her. And because of that, she chooses to make each moment the most important one in her life. It doesn’t take long for Harold to find drawn into Maude’s world of stealing cars at random (which is how the two meet in the first place) and rescuing trees from the city to be returned to their natural environment in the forest. The two fall in love, which doesn’t go over very well with the almost zombie-like inhabitants of Harold’s upper-class world (the scene in which Harold is forced to see a priest, a scene that was repeated verbatim on Family Guy, is quite possibly the funniest scene in the entire film). But Harold has made a life so far out of going against the expectations of his mother, his uncle, his shrink and the others who fail to understand what slowly begins to dawn on Harold as he spends more and more time with Maude. When he realizes what it is that drives Maude to embrace life the way she does.

Take away the element of the two being some sixty-years apart in age, and what you’re pretty much left with is a standard love story between two people from two different worlds. And when it’s down to that, only a great cast, assured direction that knows how to maintain the balance between drama, comedy and romance, and a script that holds it all together and remains sweet and touching without ever going into tooth-decay territory. Harold and Maude has continued to live long pas its initial failure by having all these things. Cort and Gordon make for two of the most believable lovers you’re ever going to see in any film. Two great actors who understand completely just how well-rounded the characters have to be for a story like this to work as more than just a one-liner about a young man and a woman old enough to be his grandmother. Hal Ashby’s direction and the script by Colin Higgins give them everything they could possibly need to carve out a relationship that’s as real and touching as anything you could find in film and any so-called “normal relationship”. The soundtrack by Cat Stevens only adds to it. Even if you’re not a fan (which I’m not), you’ll be hard pressed to think of any music more appropriate.

A million things could have gone wrong in a film like this. And other movies that have tried to do something different with the familiar romantic comedy formula have fallen into those traps. Harold and Maude avoids every last one of them. It sets its unique tone early and maintains all the way through. Leaving behind a message that life is what you make of it.

Not once does it come off as preachy in conveying that through the motions of its unforgettable characters.

That should just about do it for another edition of Adventures in Netflix.

Next month, I’ll explain why There Will Be Blood would have been a lot better if they had gotten The Rock instead Daniel Day-Lewis

Thanks for reading.

“I’d kill for diarrhea.”

-Edith Prickley (Andrea Martin) in one of her many commentaries to the viewers of SCTV.

The Conversation (1974)-Norbert Brown

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:51:54 +0000

The Conversation (1974)

By Norbert Brown

Between the first two movements of his Baroque Godfather saga, and years before the Wagnerian grandeur of Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola released a small jazz invention of a movie - a quirky, quiet masterpieces that has probably landed on more critics’ “top ten movies ever” list than either of those bigger efforts. That movie is the 1974 Academy Award nominee The Conversation.

Of course, Coppola was in no position to complain when the movie was passed over for the award – he took Best Picture with The Godfather Part II that year. But it’s a bit of a shame for movie aficionados everywhere: as fine a film series as The Godfather movies are, they tend to overshadow The Conversation through this accident of timing. And though there’s no fair way to compare it to Coppola’s grander efforts (it’s apples and tow-trucks), you can certainly make a case that The Conversation is more insightful and thought provoking, more memorable and resonant than its flashier siblings.

The Conversation tells the story of Harry Caul, a surveillance expert obsessed with his own privacy. Caul has been hired to record and reconstruct the conversation of two people who have met secretly in a crowded public park. The acknowledged best in his field, Caul uses state-of-the-art equipment (for 1974) to collect their dialogue as they circle the park, and to put the pieces together. His job is to capture the conversation – not to listen to it – yet he becomes increasingly troubled by what he hears.

So many of images from this filmed have endured in my memory that I was afraid that, watching it again, I’d be disappointed. I thought I might be distracted by the dated technology, or that the tension in the story might not be as taut as I remembered. I feared that the symbolism of Harry Caul’s name might seem heavy-handed – especially as he wears a translucent raincoat throughout the movie and is often seen through obscuring windows and screens. This reinforces the meaning of “caul” as a thin, filmy membrane left over from the amniotic sac that babies are sometimes born with. A baby born with a caul over its face has been considered either psychically gifted or cursed, depending on the culture doing the interpreting. In Harry’s case, both meanings seem to apply: he is special and gifted, able to hear what other can’t, but he is utterly alone and separate from the rest of humanity.

But I’m relieved to say that everything in the movie rang true and was as good as I’d remembered, and coming back to the movie after all that time I discovered even more.

For one thing, although I had a vivid picture in my mind of Gene Hackman as Harry Caul sitting in his apartment all alone playing the saxophone, I had forgotten just how outstanding the music in this film is. David Shire – who has created music for dozens of movies and TV shows over the years – put together a jazz score for this movie that perfectly matches the action and the tension of this film. Like the surveillance technology we see in The Conversation, the music is very much of its time, and masterfully evokes the 70s. But it isn’t a comical or overwrought view of the 70s – it’s not a “how could we have worn our hair that way” vision, but rather one of people just emerging from the turbulence of the 60s, trying on a new modernity without quite knowing what it’s all going to mean. The Conversation is ultimately about living with moral uncertainty, and about the flawed approach of isolating one’s self to cope with it.

I was also reminded that this movie is full of familiar faces – actors you know well, some in roles like none you’ve ever seen before. A pre “Laverne and Shirley” Cindy Williams is featured as half of the couple Caul spies on, and the other half is Frederick Forrest. Years before Star Wars or Indiana Jones, Harrison Ford played a corporate lackey in The Conversation, and his boss is played by Robert Duvall. Teri Garr – an actress whose career has spanned from Elvis movies to “Friends” on TV, gives one of her sweetest, saddest performances in a small role in this film, and just as fine in a larger role is the late great John Cazale.

But leading the cast, in one of his many fine performances, is Hackman as Harry Caul. Hackman does so much with so little in this movie: the script is necessarily sparse, and his character is defined by the walls he builds around himself. Yet Hackman’s performance is intricate in its subtleties: he is a fundamentally honest man who lies to protect his privacy (“I don’t have a home phone,” he says several times in the movie, and when he needs to make a call he pulls a telephone from a desk drawer in his apartment.); he is a surveillance expert utterly outraged when a colleague plants a bugged pen in his pocket. Hackman plays these contradictions without wearing them on his sleeve; he discovers the internal consistency of his character and presents us with a man who is deeply flawed and has done bad things, but who we can care about and ultimately empathize with.

If you’ve never seen The Conversation, you owe it to yourself to get your hands on it. It’s part of your basic film education. If you have seen it, it’s worth another look: like seeing an old friend or visiting someplace you used to live, you’ll be reminded of what you liked, discover things you never noticed, and find that your fresh perspective makes the original experience all the richer.

Flowers & Garnet (2002)-Melissa Smith

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:48:35 +0000

Flower & Garnet (2002)

By Melissa Smith

Flower & Garnet is an achingly beautiful film that utilizes the unique desert location of Ashcroft, British Columbia to mirror the reality of its characters. The dry and arid topography of this location is an anomaly within British Columbia, which is renowned for its lush old growth forests, heavy precipitation and island scenery. Yet, with the exception of a fishing scene, water and foliage do not feature in the film’s landscape. Even during the fishing scene, the camera never centers on the natural beauty of the surrounding environment, but like a lifeless and dispirited eye, focuses only on what is immediately within its field of vision.

The performances are very well crafted and while the viewer gets a strong sense of the characters, it would be more accurate to describe them as well intuited rather than as fully developed. Like a Pinter play, everything is happening slightly below the surface, and the film is rife with symbolism. Most tellingly is the choice of naming the young male protagonist Garnet. In geological terms, garnets preserve the compositional conditions of the rocks from which they form, some developing into gemstones, while others become abrasives.Garnets can range from transparent to opaque in nature and appearance.

While the preceding description is an abbreviated version of the compositional characteristics of garnet, the naturally occurring mineral, it could also be used as a commentary on the character of Garnet who is first pictured wailing alone in the hospital while his father and six year old sister, Flower attend the funeral of his unnamed mother who has died in child birth. Colin Roberts, nominated for a genie award for his performance in the film, was nine at the time of production, and cast in the role of Garnet four days before shooting began. This is a well deserved accolade, as through minimal dialogue, Roberts manages to convey wounded longing enmeshed with the confused innocence of childhood.

The counterpoint to Garnet is the character of Flower, played by Jane McGregor, who has acted as a surrogate mother to Garnet since his birth,. While both flowers and garnets initially develop in the darkness of the earth, flowers needs light, air and water to thrive.

Although flowers are fragile in appearance, due to their roots, or hidden support systems, they are stronger than they seem. True to her namesake, Flower transplants herself into a healthier environment so that she can bloom, and her departure serves as a turning point in the film. Until this point, Flower has acted as an adhesive for the family and her departure forces Ed, their emotionally unavailable father to finally confront the emotions surrounding his wife’s death and begin to accept his parental responsibilities.

Written and directed by Saskatchewan native Keith Behrman, and winner of numerous awards (including Best Film from The Vancouver Critics Circle), the emotional resonance of this subtle yet powerful film stays with the viewer long after the credits roll.

Dune (1984)-Kanaka Sathasivan

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:43:17 +0000

Dune (1984)

By Kanaka Sathasivan

Based on one of the best-selling science fiction novels of all time, Dune was a movie with much standing in the way. In 1984, it opened to scathing reviews, failing at the box-office, but subsequently becoming a celebrated cult favorite. Unfortunately, this David Lynch film tries so hard to pander to both fans of the Frank Herbert novel and casual moviegoers, it ends up disappointing both audiences, myself included.

The film and book revolve around the young leader Paul Atreides (Kyle MacLachlan), and his family, the House Atreides, which has been given control over the desert planet Arrakis, also known as Dune. Arrakis is the only source of the spice melange, a valuable substance that extends life and heightens consciousness; it is also inhabited by monstrous sandworms and populated by the allusive Fremen. However, the Spacing Guild, concerned about a plot to obstruct spice production, conspires with the Padishah Emperor (José Ferrer) and the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Kenneth McMillan) to eliminate House Atreides.

After a surprise attack, Paul and his mother, a Bene Gesserit witch, find themselves stranded in the desert, where they are taken in by the Fremen. As the son of a Bene Gesserit, Paul seems to have extraordinary powers, like that of no man or even of the witches. Believing him to fulfill their prophecies, the Fremen rename him Maud’Dib, appoint him their leader, train him, and eventually assist him in reclaiming control over Arrakis.

Ultimately, the film is a mishmash of political plots and conspiracies, filled with new terminology and a number of antagonists; it is easily confusing to anyone unfamiliar with the novel. I even read the book a month before watching the film but at certain points had no idea what was going on. The opening sequence is nearly half an hour of pure explication, setting up the universe for the viewer. Testament to the unclear nature of the film, when the movie first opened, Universal Pictures handed pamphlets to the audience in order to prepare them beforehand.

Despite a number of faults, there are many reasons the film still endures today. At its heart, it is unadulterated science fiction, with fantastic elements needing no explanations and delivering wonderful escapism. The cinematography is breathtaking, and while many of the effects are laughable, especially compared to other films from that period, others are breathtaking. The costuming is especially striking, simultaneously futuristic, and traditional. Above all, the actors are endearing to watch. Each delivers a devoted performance, and the cast is studded with famous names.

But while Lynch does an admirable job of adapting the story to film, the power and scope of the book is ultimately impossible to convey on screen, especially in a 2 hour movie. The direction is laudable, but Dune’s failure stems from the screenplay and the editing, both of which Lynch lost control over.

Much of the novel’s brilliance stems from the subtlety of Herbert’s prose, but there is little subtlety found in the film. Voiceovers pointlessly explain emotions, and other elements, such as the Bene Gesserit powers, are simplified almost to the point of losing their original meaning. The film also fails to convey the philosophy found in the novel. To the furor of fans, numerous vital scenes were eliminated; however, from the perspective of those unfamiliar with the novel, the movie is too faithful to the book and often includes much more information than is necessary.

Whether the film stands the test of time is debatable, as it also suffers from a number of clichéd 80s film techniques. While certain elements are enjoyable, overall the film is a mess of plot points, chopping pacing, and shallow writing. It’s often tedious to watch, and casual viewers will have trouble understanding or enjoying the film. This isn’t a movie I would view twice, and there are few people I would recommend it to. Nevertheless, Dune will most likely continue to remain a cult favorite and science fiction classic.

21: The Movie (2008)-Eric Smith

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:38:09 +0000

21: The Movie (2008)

By Eric Smith

I’ve heard this complaint hundreds of times. When people go see a movie, they want to be entertained. They don’t want to do a whole lot of thinking. They don’t want to leave the theater wondering what the hell they just watched or trying to figure what when on during the film. If that’s your case, steer clear of this movie.

The posters and some of the trailers title this movie 21: The Movie. Why "The Movie" subtitle? Is there a TV show called 21 that I don’t know about? I know of 24, but not 21. The book this is based off of is called Bringing Down the House: The Story of Six M.I.T. Students Who Took Vegas for Millions. Why not call it Bringing Down the House? Because it was already used for the 2003 Steve Martin/Queen Latifah comedy? Perhaps. Unfortunately, that’s just the beginning in a long line of questions.

The story focuses on a young M.I.T. student named Ben (Jim Sturgess), who realizes that his dream of getting a scholarship to attend Harvard Medical School is slim, and he has no way of coming up with $300,000. One of his professors, Mickey Rosa (Kevin Spacey) invites him to join his elite gang of five other students, which include Kate Bosworth and Jacob Pitts (whose last major role was the sex-obsessed friend in Eurotrip). They have a system going where they count cards (which we’re informed is not illegal) at the blackjack table, win big, and split the earnings. Sounds cool, right? Well, Ben politely declines at first, but then reluctantly joins on an "Only ’til I have enough" basis. So, we’re sucked into a world where Ben’s narration of talking numbers will more than likely bore the snot of you. Eventually, a security guard at the casino (Laurence Fishburne) who’s really good at spotting counters catches on to their plan. He’s the obligatory tough guy. (No smoking yet he does anyway.)

This film just rolls out the clichés. We get montages, slo-mo shots of will he/won’t he get caught?, slo-mo shots of cards being laid on the green, casino guards beating people. The list goes on and on. Right off the bat, a bunch of questions run through my mind. Why Vegas? It’s like 2,500 miles there. Why not Atlantic City? It’s closer. Fishburne even mentions it to a guy he’s beating the living garbage out of. Why do they always hit the same casino? Don’t they realize that they’d start catching on sooner or later? There’s a bunch of other, high-profit casinos in Vegas. Hit those up as well! Why do we only see Bosworth in a good disguise? Sturgess is always seen as himself (ooh, his hair was combed differently!). Fake IDs will only get them so far. In the end, we’re not entertained, we’re just bored. The cast is attractive, and Spacey and Fishburne are good as always. I’m a fan of blackjack. In fact, it’s the only card game I’m really good at. However, this film almost makes me not want to play it for a while. Almost. There’s an old adage: "Entertain, or be entertained." They didn’t, so I wasn’t, and you can bet on that.

Semi-Pro (2008)-Eric Smith

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:34:53 +0000

Semi-Pro (2008)

By Eric Smith

If you haven’t checked out Semi-Pro, Will Ferrell’s latest sports comedy, you’re not missing much. In fact, chances are, you’ve already seen much of what’s in this flat, unfunny film.

Will Ferrell once again takes center stage, in his usual obnoxious, shouting role, this time as Jackie Moon, owner/coach/power forward for the Flint (MI) Tropics of the ABA (American Basketball Association). Now, doing some research, I found that, historically, this film is right on the nose (except for the Tropics, of course). The film takes place in 1976, the year the ABA went defunct; the four teams mentioned in the movie were, in fact, the actual teams that made it into the NBA; and the ABA teams were widely known for their outlandish promotions (one of the few highlights of Semi-Pro). To that, I applaud, as it’s homage to the glory days of semi-pro basketball and those who remember it well. The Tropics are considered the worst in the ABA. They only have two or three good members (one of them Andre Benjamin’s "Downtown") and they rarely rake in any attendance (another big problem by the real-life ABA). During a league meeting, it is announced that four teams will make the merger (although it is Jackie’s idea to have the "Top Four" teams make it). So now it’s Jackie’s turn to get his team out of a slump, starting with hiring former NBA player Monix (Woody Harrelson in White Men Can’t Jump mode). Harrelson gets his own subplot, involving his attempt to getting back with his ex.

The film’s big problem is that it becomes another cliché, underdog sports film, which has been done to much better effect before. The other big problem is that it uses so many recycled gags from other Ferrell films, including more-of-the-same jokes on the ’70s lifestyle (what is it with Will Ferrell and the ’70s?). Supporting characters and even characters with bit parts have funnier lines than Ferrell’s entire performance. Heck, the lady in charge of wrangling the bear is probably the funniest person in the whole movie. Now, the cast looks good, but the there are huge laugh droughts, the basketball games are badly filmed, and a vast majority of the jokes suffer greatly being immature and falling flat. This film belongs in the same grave the ABA is in.

The Secret Of Roan Inish (1995)-Dan Schneider

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:31:42 +0000

The Secret Of Roan Inish (1995)

By Dan Schneider

If John Sayles, the independent American filmmaker, is not the greatest director in the history of the medium, he certainly has to be considered among the most daring and diverse filmmakers ever. From tales set in America’s past (Matewan), to yuppy dramadies (The Return Of The Secaucus Seven), to urban social satires (The Brother From Another Planet), to more modern looks at American life (Sunshine State, Lone Star, Casa De Los Babys), Sayles has shown a desire to explore things no other filmmaker has. And while he does not have a distinctive look noir style, each of films is well wrought, and a worthy addition to world cinema. One of his most daring films was actually one of his most popular and financially successful- 1995’s Irish fantasy film, The Secret Of Roan Inish.

Ok, let me rephrase- to call The Secret Of Roan Inish a fantasy film- even if Sayles adapted the screenplay from a 1957 children’s book (The Secret Of Ron Mor Skerry) by Rosalie K. Fry, is to sell it short. It is a very sly and deep look at childhood and the loneliness that accompanies such. In this way, it is very much in league with such other explorations of early childhood loneliness as Val Lewton’s 1944 film The Curse Of The Cat People and 1968’s Godzilla’s Revenge. It is also very much a great family film along the lines of October Sky and My Dog Skip.

It is also very much a mythic film. That term is often overused to describe films that deal with ‘epic’ characters or situations, but that sort of description and film too often wallows in the pseudo-babble of faux intellectuals like Joseph Campbell. This film succeeds by using the exact opposite tack- it presents the film very much from a child’s eye point of view, that of its lead character Fiona Coneely (Jeni Courtney)- a cute ten year old blond girl who goes to live with her grandparents after World War Two, because her mother has died, and her father has had to go off to Scotland to find work.

This fact is shot in a very effective way, early in the film. We see Fiona go into a local pub, and the grownups- including her father, speak down to her. Yet, the camera is at her eye level, so that we never see the grownups from any vantage point except their chests or below. It is almost an homage to the Peanuts television cartoons. There we do not even see adults, merely hear their muted voices declaiming. In this way, we are vividly shown how alone and isolated Fiona is, and tipped off to the fact that this film is going to be something not only unique, but special. Her arrival to her grandparents’ home recalls that of Anne of Green Gables to her fictive home, and Fiona has much of the courage and pugnacity of Anne Shirley.

Aside from her grandparents, she meets her slightly older cousin Eamon (Richard Sheridan), the only person who believes her penchant for what seem to be tall tales. Yet, that trait runs in the Coneely family, as her grandfather Hugh (Mick Lally) peppers her with tales- such as one of an ancestor who improbably survives a near death experience at sea, as does another relative- the family black sheep, Tadhg (John Lynch). Only her grandmother Tess (Eileen Colgan) seems immune to the superstitions. She learns how over three years earlier her clan had to leave the island of Roan Inish (The Island Of The Seals), off the coast of Donegal, and come to the mainland, due to the war. She also is told of an event she can barely recall- the loss of her baby brother Jamie (Cillian Byrne), whose crib floated off in the tides- although far too quickly to be followed by human rowers, or to be real, and who has been spotted sporadically since; although he runs off whenever called or chased.

When Eamon takes her to Roan Inish, on the family curragh- a skin and tar covered canoe, to the old cabins, Fiona sees her now four-year-old brother frolicking with the seals, wearing ‘not a stitch.’ Instead of ambushing him she, of course, runs right up to him, and he runs away and sails of fin his tiny boat. Of course, right here is where we see that the tale is more than just an analogy, and has gone full fledged into legendry, for no baby could survive in the cold Irish Sea, seals or not, even if clothed. But, once we accept that implausibility, the film is free to do what it does best- move and entertain.

We also learn of an older family legend, one told to Fiona by the dark haired black sheep of the Coneely clan- Tadhg. He explains to her about their roots as humans mixed with the seals, in the form of a half-human half-seal animal called a Selkie. An ancestor of theirs, Liam (Gerald

Rooney), captured one, named Nuala (Susan Lynch), who had just shed its seal skin, and married her. They had children, and were happy, until she found where her husband had hidden her skin. retrieving it, she returned to the sea. Since then, all Coneely family members with dark hair, like Tadhg, are proof of this Selkie ancestry.

In the end, Eamon and Fiona restore the Roan Inish cottages, figuring that only by the clan’s return there (as they are to be evicted from their mainland homes) will the seals return Jamie to them. In the end, it is Tess’s acceptance of Jamie’s still being alive that sets the clan to the

move, and it is to Tess that Jamie runs back to, once he is rejected by the seals.

The film ends on an appropriately quiet note, as if a descent into sleep and dream- or perhaps a waking from it. The noted cinematographer Haskell Wexler turs in one of his best pieces of work, as the film radiates depth and realism, as well as mythology. Yet, all with camerawork and little in

the way of special effects. The soundtrack by Mason Daring is also good- and not overly Irish, with jigs and dancing drunks. The main instruments are strings and woodwinds, as well as a drum called a bodhran.

The DVD, put out by Columbia and Tri-Star, is rather spare, with only a few trailers, and the film is shown in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio on Side A and a 1.33:1 aspect ratio on Side B. There is an audio commentary by Sayles. Of course, commentaries by Sayles are always amongst the best on the market, and this one is no different. He has a very natural tone, gives specific information on the actors and making of the film, and also entertains with the anecdotes. The most interesting anecdote is his relating how some of the Selkie legends tell of Selkies who harass humans who have hunted seals, much in the look, style, and manner that modern UFOlogy’s Men In Black do. He also goes on about the silly idea of matching eyelines in cuts, something the great Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu debunked. Sayles does not come off as if he’s reading notes, nor deigning from on high, as do many film experts, critics, and historians. Sayles, the former actor, knows how to keep the viewer’s attention.

He also practices this in the actual film, which uses not too much dialogue, and conveys much through the way shots are set up, and the looks the actors convey. It also does an excellent job of distilling the transitional era after the war, the time when ‘after a war, people are always ready to cut off the past.’ Here we see that reflected in the scorn heaped upon speaking Gaelic- even if the oral traditions that originated in that tongue are seen as invaluable, and the turn of the older Irish generation from the rough rural island life, and towards that of industrialization- although the film shows an inordinate amount of its characters’ time being consumed by work, not childish play.

The film did only mediocre at the box office, but that’s because it is a terrific and deep film that never condescends. It is a children’s film sans explosions and wiseass children, and explodes the idea that films aimed at children need be lesser versions of their adult counterparts. In fact, they have a greater charge- to appeal to kids as well as adults, and on both levels. Children’s films, in fact, should have more ideas crammed into them as children can absorb more and learn from them without the biases and fears that a typical adult has acquired.

The film runs a crisp hour and forty-three minutes, and not a second is wasted. The only quibble one might have with the film is its title. It really should have been called The Secrets (plural) Of Roan Inish, for more than the secret of Jamie’s fate is involved. Yet, the flaws in this film are very minor- such as Fiona’s repeated inability to outwit her wild child brother, compared to the film’s virtues- almost all else. The Secret Of Roan Inish is one of Sayles’ best films, and arguably a great film in its own right. That this film did what it did with so little shows that true creativity thrives no matter what its source of nourishment is, and that when that creativity is a product of John Sayles’ mind, it’s likely to be something well beyond the norm.

Rollerball (1975)-Ben Dugas

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:25:30 +0000

Rollerball (1975)

By Ben Dugas

The year is 2018. There are no wars. There is no crime. There is only… the Game.

About a year ago I randomly picked up a VHS copy of Norman Jewison’s 1975 film Rollerball. I paid a hefty two dollars for this treasure (I know this because the price sticker is still on it) but I’ve since watched it a few times, shown it to some friends and picked up a copy on DVD as well as a copy of the remake (2002) on VHS (another bargain, might I add). I had never heard of the film at the time. I bought it based only on the name and the cover art, which was very much like this poster.

You know that album you have that would be one of your favorites if only it weren’t fifteen minutes longer than it should be or if only it didn’t have that stretch of two or three songs you hate? Well that’s sort of how I feel about Rollerball. Apparently the film wasn’t appreciated at the time of its release nor has there been anything resembling a resurgence in Rollerball appreciation since. In my opinion, there are some pretty serious flaws in the film, which might account for this lack of appreciation but there’s still a lot to like. Behold this awesome trailer:

As you can see, the rollerball action is tantalizing, the classical soundtrack is a nice touch and the font is, well I can’t quite do it justice, but I’ll just say it was way ahead of its time and leave it at that.

What else do I like about Rollerball? Well for starters the protagonist Jonathan E (played by James Caan and no he doesn’t have a last name – maybe the E stands for Everyman) has a right hand man who not only has a cool moustache but also goes by Moonpie (what a time to be alive)! Furthermore the sport itself looks incredible. The ball travels at speeds of up to 120 mph, is made of solid metal and looks like it weighs about ten pounds. The combatants ride around on otorcycles which they use to pull, push and run over their teammates and opponents. This often results in collisions, fire, explosions and sometimes death (the record for most deaths in a roller match is nine).

Later on in the story, Jonathan and his team (team Houston!) travel to Tokyo and hilarity ensues for a plethora of reasons. There’s a bizarre scene in which Jonathan and Moonpie get a massage from a small Japanese lady who afterwards settles down for a nap on Moonpie’s back. Team Houston is warned by (presumably) their half Japanese trainer that team Tokyo uses “various karate and tae kwon doe techniques” but rather than take the advice, team Houston advances creepily on the trainer chanting “Houston! Houston! Houston! Houston!” Lastly, the members of team Tokyo not only do these hilarious synchronized martial arts routine during their warm up but some of them also wear glasses. Glasses! They wear glasses in a sport where there’s a good chance your skull will be shattered and any glass objects on your face are almost sure to be destroyed. But I digress.

Believe it or not Rollerball clocks in at over two hours and within that stretch we get to see a mere three rollerball matches. What happens in between? Well we get to see a practice, Jonathan goes to a few libraries and complains when he can’t find certain books in physical or electronic format, Jonathan hangs out at his ranch and watches videos of the wife who was taken from him years ago, Jonathan goes to a talk show type thingy, management tries to talk him into retirement, there’s a bunch of meetings and yeah, they have this party where people get drunk and run around blowing up trees with their tree gun.

In fact there’s nearly a full hour between the opening match and the second one against Tokyo. Now I understand they’re trying to insert some subtext here regarding the struggle between the individual (Jonathan E) and the system (the sport itself and the corporate overlords who rule it), and to an extent it kind of works, but it is simply and absolutely unacceptable to have an hour long rollerball drought in a film called Rollerball with cover art promising all of the things that spiked gloves, metal balls and James Caan’s intimidating gaze can promise.

The only thing that holds your attention during this gap and the one that follows between the second and third matches is the hope that more rollerball action might be just around the corner. If that hope weren’t there you wouldn’t be watching.

So basically I think, if you can find it and have the time, you should by all means watch Rollerball but perhaps the lack of appreciation it’s received over the years is somewhat justified. Maybe the best way to watch Rollerball is to skip half of that hour-long gap between the first and second match and watch the Tokyo match (my personal favorite) twice, instead.

Stop-Loss (2007)-Andrea Silvers

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:20:57 +0000

Stop-Loss (2007)

By Andrea Silvers

If the war in Iraq has taught us anything, it’s that the American public does not want to watch movies about the war in Iraq. It hasn’t seemed to matter if it’s a small well-crafted story personalizing the war like The Valley of Elah or a big budget thriller with lots of Hollywood stars attached like The Kingdom, people just aren’t coming out to see them. That however, hasn’t stopped writer/director Kimberly Peirce, who previously brought us Boys Don’t Cry, from trying her hand at the doomed topic.

Her vision follows a group of soldiers led by Ryan Phillipe’s Sergeant Brandon King. Brandon is a tried and true soldier from Texas, as noted almost to the point of absurdity by Phillipe’s over the top accent, who signed up during the war to fight for his country and honor his military roots. But the war hasn’t treated him or the men he’s leading very kindly. In his last days overseas before being shipped home he leads his group into what quickly turns into an ambush and loses many of his men in the process. He and his surviving men come home damaged from the experience, and the two senior soldiers, Brandon and his childhood best friend Steve Shriver, played with equal parts machismo and pain by Channing Tatum, are the ones getting out. The problem arises when Brandon goes in to get his discharge papers only to find out he’s been stop-lossed, which means the army has deemed him and his experience a valuable asset and has recalled him to duty in an almost draft-like maneuver. The catch is that men can only be stop-lossed during times of war and President Bush has declared the war over, even though anyone who pays attention to the news or watched the first scene in this movie knows it’s not. This is when Brandon decides to fight and both his life and the movie begin to fall apart.

Trying to do poignant for the MTV set has never quite worked and even with the deft hand of Kimberly Peirce this movie fails in its attempt as well. Much of the angst in the movie is brought about through Brandon’s seeming abandonment of those around him who include Joseph Gordon-Levitt , who comes back into the public consciousness striped of his 3rd Rock From the Sun goofiness, and thankfully the long hair that went with it, who turned in a layered and slightly haunting performance and his parents, played by Linda Emond and Ciaran Hinds. Their attitude toward Brandon’s escape from the army is anything but sympathetic, reflecting what I’m sure many red staters are actually going to think about this movie. But what could have evolved into a gripping story about one man thwarting the system turns out to simply tow the party line. It’s hard to pick a side when it seems that no matter what poor Brandon does it’s wrong. In the end the film almost reads like a cautionary tale for those who are looking to rebel. The viewer gets shown that resistance is futile and nothing can be done about it, leaving you with nothing but a vague sense of helplessness. Had it been any other writer/director it could have been forgivable but when you create something as powerful and memorable as Boys Don’t Cry anything less seems like you’re just not trying hard enough. There is a sense on anger and indignity that the viewer is left with, but it’s more at the moral ambiguity of the piece and less about the war.

The Spiderwick Chronicles (2008)-Amber Vilate

admin — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:16:07 +0000

The Spiderwick Chronicles (2008)

By Amber Vilate

Fear, anger, more fear, a little more anger, definitely more fear, hope, redemption and love.

What makes a good movie? The plot? The cinematography? The acting? Is it just films made for “grown-ups” that can qualify as “good?”

Most adults wouldn’t think twice about The Spiderwick Chronicles unless they were considering taking their children to see it. To me, this is a shame. They’d be missing a good, fun, exciting romp through the world of the fae as seen from the eyes of an angry, sad boy who is seeking (whether or not he realizes it) redemption.

Based on the bestselling book series by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi (both of whom are quite nice and very talented – I’ve been in love with Holly Black’s writing for quite some time and I was thrilled to see this story come alive onscreen), The Spiderwick Chronicles tells the tale of a young boy and his family who have moved into a strange old house. The house is something of a family heirloom; they are allowed to live there after a divorce.

Jared Grace is angry, sad and hurt by the divorce and he acts out frequently, sometimes violently. It seems that this move is the last hope for him, as he causes his mother pain and anguish almost daily. As the movie opens, you can see the poor kid is getting the short end of the stick by being blamed for things he doesn’t do. Including stealing keys and trinkets from his mother and sister.

He soon finds a secret room full of strange things. In this room is a book, which proves to be powerful and sought after by… goblins. The kind of goblins, in fact, who, by the end of the movie, you think is entirely too powerful to be defeated.

Danger is hot on Jared’s heels as he reads the book, goblins steal his twin brother, they escape, goblins follow them home, and their sister is finally brought into the light. But that isn’t all. The danger keeps going through a clandestine trip to a mental institution, a flight on a griffin, and a battle to the death with goblins and the goblin king.

The story is, quite simply, superb. The action almost never dies in this movie, which makes for quite the thrill-ride. It’s interesting, it’s unique and it’s fun – all qualities of a good movie. Too bad it will probably not get the attention it deserves.

Sure, the acting isn’t the best, but it’s a far cry from most children’s movies and director Mark Waters (Mean Girls, Just Like Heaven) proves to me, again, that he knows what he’s doing with a movie as he leads the actors through their paces.

Freddie Highmore, of Finding Neverland, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and August Rush, plays both twin boys, Jared and Simon Grace, and I was actually surprised that it was done by one actor (though I figured it was one). The two boys are very different and Freddie gets my applause for taking both characters to heart. He captures their essences, as described in the book series. Well done on both counts.

Mary-Louise Parker plays the mother and I’ve seen better work from her, but it’s not the worst acting by any stretch. Sarah Bolger plays the rapier-wielding sister, Mallory, and does equally as well as Freddie Highmore.

And who can forget David Strathairn (of so many good movies, I can’t name them all) who gives a good performance of Arthur Spiderwick, the man who wrote the book Jared finds. His daughter, Jared’s Aunt Lucinda, is played as an old woman by Joan Plowright (another with many, many credits to her name) and a young child by Jordy Benattar.

The cinematography (by Caleb Deschanel, who is another member of this crew with multiple amazing credits) is good – the scenery is lovely and the movie is set against a Northeastern US backdrop. In a movie with this much action, it would be easy to end up with jarring, nauseating scenes, but everything plays out smoothly and easily.

James Horner composed the music. Beautiful score. Fits very nicely with the story and characters. The music is fantastical, sad and hopeful, which showcase the theme of the movie very well.

If you haven’t given much thought to seeing this movie simply because it is a “children’s” movie, you are missing out. Yes, for some of you cynics out there, it does have a bit of a touchy-feely, warm-fuzzy ending, but it fits and it makes the effort, danger and fear worth it. It’s nice to go see a movie that shows just how much redemption is possible, even now when the world can sometimes seem harsh and cruel. Even for old cynics. Go see it. You might just be glad you did.