Isn't it great when something surpasses your expectations? I went to see Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street only because I had to kill time before my parents arrived in New York. The two hours at the theater were more than well worth it.
Even if one walked into Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street with no knowledge of its source material (Stephen Sondheim's 1979 musical), the opening credits would provide more than a hint of the macabre nature of the subsequent two hours. Director Tim Burton and production designer Dante Ferretti mix blood, rats, meat pies, sausages and sewers in gross glee, cleverly providing plot points. Sweeney Todd is not for the faint of stomach, but its odd beauty makes it an artistic wonder.
The story is one of Benjamin Barker (frequent Burton collaborator Johnny Depp), an ex-convict barber returning to 19th-century London to seek murderous vengeance. His ultimate target is Severus Snape himself, Alan Rickman … er, Judge Turpin, who stole Barker’s wife, now deceased, and young daughter, whom the villain plans to marry. To snag his man, Barker, a.k.a. Sweeney Todd, works with meat-pie saleswoman Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter) to cook up mutually beneficial solutions.
Never mind the recent Daniel Day-Lewis epic - there will be blood in Sweeney Todd. Lots of blood. It spurts and gushes like steam out of a manhole, and it’s an awesome sight. The blood shows up more ruby than crimson, flowing against a shadowy gray-white background. Hair and makeup artist Ivana Primorac heightens the Gothic romantic nature by making Depp and Bonham Carter appear increasingly ghoulish as their characters’ depravity grows.
And with Sweeney Todd drained of so much color, occasional bursts of brightness, such as the peacock suit worn by Sacha Baron Cohen’s barber Pirelli, are more shocking.
If Edward Scissorhands, another Burton/Depp creation, had gone crazy, Sweeney might be the result. The hair is wilder, the skin more ashen, the love of blades far greater; Sweeney even sings an ode to them. He slashes his patrons’ throats with zeal, he’s single-minded in his hatred, and yet he’s magnetic. Depp has captured the tortured Barker’s passion and soul.
Her vocals may not be much stronger than Jennifer Lopez’s - the score often overwhelms them - but as the love-struck Mrs. Lovett, Bonham Carter is one saucy minx. She truly acts through her singing, a difficult feat. Bonham Carter's Lovett is desperate and devious, a woman in need of company and desiring of Sweeney's affection, and she'll do literally anything to get them. During the lone, deliberately jarring Technicolor sequence by a Cape May-esque seaside, Bonham Carter's sad eyes brighten as she trills of wished-for happiness with her killing machine. Alas, the fantasy remains just that.
(One gripe: Bonham Carter's costumes needed to be better fitted. The actress was pregnant during filming, and in some scenes this is poorly concealed.)
Broadway purists may argue with the changes Burton and writer John Logan have made to the libretto, such as shortening the book by almost an hour and de-emphasizing the focus on the Industrial Revolution. As a film, though, Sweeney Todd makes for killer entertainment.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Good cast, bad film
I was going through my notebook to prepare a Sweeney Todd review when I stumbled across notes for this two-weeks-and-out film from December. That alone should give you an idea of what I thought of The Walker.
What if the American Gigolo were gay and transplanted to present-day D.C.? That would be one way to describe The Walker, the latest flick from Gigolo writer/director Paul Schrader. Woody Harrelson mumbles his way through the role of Carter Page, a Capote-esque escort for powerful Washington wives. He becomes entangled in a murder mystery while protecting one of them (icy Kristin Scott Thomas) and learns he isn’t as welcome as he thought. The Walker feels dated; if not for shoehorned current-events references, the soundtrack and even the bleached film stock would imply a timeframe closer to the first Iraq war.
What if the American Gigolo were gay and transplanted to present-day D.C.? That would be one way to describe The Walker, the latest flick from Gigolo writer/director Paul Schrader. Woody Harrelson mumbles his way through the role of Carter Page, a Capote-esque escort for powerful Washington wives. He becomes entangled in a murder mystery while protecting one of them (icy Kristin Scott Thomas) and learns he isn’t as welcome as he thought. The Walker feels dated; if not for shoehorned current-events references, the soundtrack and even the bleached film stock would imply a timeframe closer to the first Iraq war.
Black and white and colorful all over
My film class sort of met up again last week to see Persepolis. Taking notes at this film presented a bit of a challenge - how do you take notes on a foreign film in a dark theater? - but the viewing was a worthwhile one.
Animation: It’s not just for penguins and princesses anymore.
Persepolis relates the true tale of Marjane Satrapi, a young woman during the Islamic Revolution. The grim happenings - an increasingly oppressive regime at home, a continental divide from family, a crushing “banal love story” - suggest 95 minutes of Sturm und Drang, but Satrapi and co-director Vincent Paronnaud perk up the narrative with spunk and stylized pictures.
Persepolis only appears two-dimensional - in fact, its story has great depth. Satrapi based the Oscar-nominated Persepolis (the title refers to the historic Persian town) on her autobiographical graphic novels, but she doesn’t sugar-coat; rather, she’s self-deprecating, particularly during the Vienna years. Satrapi and Paronnaud offer the splash of a red coat that, as in Schindler’s List, stands out amid shades of gray, but mostly the images are deliberately simple black-and-white line drawings.
Persepolis would be flat without vibrant characters, and Marjane is a lively original. A precocious 1978 Marji lists her goals as “shaving my legs and being the last prophet in the galaxy.” Teenager Marjane enjoys contraband Iron Maiden tapes - peddlers of which evoke the Battery Park scene - while the adult emerges from depression thanks to “Eye of the Tiger.”
The French-language Persepolis receives a boost from the spirited vocals of Chiara Mastroianni; her mother, Catherine Deneuve; and 90-year-old Danielle Darrieux as Marjane’s witty grandmother. English dubbing with Gena Rowlands and Iggy Pop is planned, but whatever its form, Persepolis proves the look and language of cinema are universal.
Animation: It’s not just for penguins and princesses anymore.
Persepolis relates the true tale of Marjane Satrapi, a young woman during the Islamic Revolution. The grim happenings - an increasingly oppressive regime at home, a continental divide from family, a crushing “banal love story” - suggest 95 minutes of Sturm und Drang, but Satrapi and co-director Vincent Paronnaud perk up the narrative with spunk and stylized pictures.
Persepolis only appears two-dimensional - in fact, its story has great depth. Satrapi based the Oscar-nominated Persepolis (the title refers to the historic Persian town) on her autobiographical graphic novels, but she doesn’t sugar-coat; rather, she’s self-deprecating, particularly during the Vienna years. Satrapi and Paronnaud offer the splash of a red coat that, as in Schindler’s List, stands out amid shades of gray, but mostly the images are deliberately simple black-and-white line drawings.
Persepolis would be flat without vibrant characters, and Marjane is a lively original. A precocious 1978 Marji lists her goals as “shaving my legs and being the last prophet in the galaxy.” Teenager Marjane enjoys contraband Iron Maiden tapes - peddlers of which evoke the Battery Park scene - while the adult emerges from depression thanks to “Eye of the Tiger.”
The French-language Persepolis receives a boost from the spirited vocals of Chiara Mastroianni; her mother, Catherine Deneuve; and 90-year-old Danielle Darrieux as Marjane’s witty grandmother. English dubbing with Gena Rowlands and Iggy Pop is planned, but whatever its form, Persepolis proves the look and language of cinema are universal.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
2007's 10 Best (which may be subject to change)
I wanted to avoid writing a 10-best list until I saw what I thought were all the worthy 2007 releases. At this rate, though, I may never see The Savages, so it's time to post anyway. Unlike with the 2006 list, explanations for my favorites are provided.
1) The Lives of Others - I owe this choice to my father, who selected it for one of our late-night father-daughter movie outings. I’d never seen anything like this story of life behind the Iron Curtain, where we learned the measures to which the Stasi (the German secret police) would go to learn about its people. Even though the time here was 1984 East Germany, the plot seems relevant in the technologically savvy America of 2008.
2) No Country for Old Men (see earlier post)
No Movie for Old People (a nod to my friend Jeff)
3) Gone, Baby, Gone - Criminally underrated and underseen, my boy Ben Affleck’s adaptation of the Dennis Lehane novel continues to shake me months later. The film’s a spot-on representation of my hometown: I know those triple deckers and the people in them. Often you hear the cliché “yon won’t be able to stop talking about the ending;” in this case, it’s really true.
4) Waitress - The first time I saw this, I merely thought it was cute. A couple of months later, I watched it again, and the richness and flavor overwhelmed me - how had I missed the depth of Jenna’s (Keri Russell) arc? The happy endings were justly deserved. R.I.P. Adrienne Shelly
5) Eastern Promises - I gushed about Viggo Mortensen on Tuesday, but the latest from David Cronenberg also gives us a very graphic, violent look at the Russian mafia underworld in London. Redemption is the name of the game, whether it’s from blood or a baby. The script is by Steve Knight, who also wrote another awesome gritty-London story, 2003’s Dirty Pretty Things.
6) In the Valley of Elah - I’ve posted about this before, and I referenced it in the Oscar-nominations entry.
7) Juno
Funny Ha-Ha and Funny Sad
8) Hairspray - Ebullient, bouncy, and catchy as heck, this version of Hairspray is a Bye, Bye, Birdie for my generation and the one after me. I even prefer it to John Waters’ sublime 1988 original. The soundtrack picks me up on downer days.
9) No End in Sight - Not just another Michael Moore polemic, this documentary from political scientist Charles Ferguson offers voices from both sides of the war debate to show how we ended up in Iraq in the first half of the decade - and why we’re still there almost five years later. It’s one of the most even-handed war talks I’ve seen, and the presidential candidates on both sides would do well to watch it. Campbell Scott’s sober narration adds gravitas.
10) Lars and the Real Girl - A rare instance where the trailer left the good stuff out, this hard-to-market film ultimately shows us the innate kindness in everyone. Ryan Gosling’s awkward performance has detractors and fans; I’m with the latter group. Sure, this film requires a suspension of disbelief, but go with it.
Runners-up: Things We Lost in the Fire, Breach, Enchanted, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Persepolis (reviews of the latter two coming soon)
Movies that nearly made me slit my wrists: Spider-Man 3, Knocked Up, Goya’s Ghosts, Bug (The negative review: Bug ) and - most of all - La Vie en Rose. For that, my frustration is best expressed by A.O. Scott of the New York Times.
http://movies.nytimes.com/2007/06/08/movies/08vie.html?em&ex=1181361600&en=43350787f491ca1b&ei=5087%0A
1) The Lives of Others - I owe this choice to my father, who selected it for one of our late-night father-daughter movie outings. I’d never seen anything like this story of life behind the Iron Curtain, where we learned the measures to which the Stasi (the German secret police) would go to learn about its people. Even though the time here was 1984 East Germany, the plot seems relevant in the technologically savvy America of 2008.
2) No Country for Old Men (see earlier post)
No Movie for Old People (a nod to my friend Jeff)
3) Gone, Baby, Gone - Criminally underrated and underseen, my boy Ben Affleck’s adaptation of the Dennis Lehane novel continues to shake me months later. The film’s a spot-on representation of my hometown: I know those triple deckers and the people in them. Often you hear the cliché “yon won’t be able to stop talking about the ending;” in this case, it’s really true.
4) Waitress - The first time I saw this, I merely thought it was cute. A couple of months later, I watched it again, and the richness and flavor overwhelmed me - how had I missed the depth of Jenna’s (Keri Russell) arc? The happy endings were justly deserved. R.I.P. Adrienne Shelly
5) Eastern Promises - I gushed about Viggo Mortensen on Tuesday, but the latest from David Cronenberg also gives us a very graphic, violent look at the Russian mafia underworld in London. Redemption is the name of the game, whether it’s from blood or a baby. The script is by Steve Knight, who also wrote another awesome gritty-London story, 2003’s Dirty Pretty Things.
6) In the Valley of Elah - I’ve posted about this before, and I referenced it in the Oscar-nominations entry.
7) Juno
Funny Ha-Ha and Funny Sad
8) Hairspray - Ebullient, bouncy, and catchy as heck, this version of Hairspray is a Bye, Bye, Birdie for my generation and the one after me. I even prefer it to John Waters’ sublime 1988 original. The soundtrack picks me up on downer days.
9) No End in Sight - Not just another Michael Moore polemic, this documentary from political scientist Charles Ferguson offers voices from both sides of the war debate to show how we ended up in Iraq in the first half of the decade - and why we’re still there almost five years later. It’s one of the most even-handed war talks I’ve seen, and the presidential candidates on both sides would do well to watch it. Campbell Scott’s sober narration adds gravitas.
10) Lars and the Real Girl - A rare instance where the trailer left the good stuff out, this hard-to-market film ultimately shows us the innate kindness in everyone. Ryan Gosling’s awkward performance has detractors and fans; I’m with the latter group. Sure, this film requires a suspension of disbelief, but go with it.
Runners-up: Things We Lost in the Fire, Breach, Enchanted, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Persepolis (reviews of the latter two coming soon)
Movies that nearly made me slit my wrists: Spider-Man 3, Knocked Up, Goya’s Ghosts, Bug (The negative review: Bug ) and - most of all - La Vie en Rose. For that, my frustration is best expressed by A.O. Scott of the New York Times.
http://movies.nytimes.com/2007/06/08/movies/08vie.html?em&ex=1181361600&en=43350787f491ca1b&ei=5087%0A
Running with kites
I have a confession: I thought the book The Kite Runner was overrated. The beautifully depicted Afghan countryside could not compensate for my utter dislike for the main character, Amir, whose lack of backbone made me put the novel down repeatedly in irritation. Therefore, I was filled with some trepidation at seeing the movie adaptation. ...
Khaled Hosseini’s best-seller The Kite Runner becomes only a passable film in the hands of director Marc Forster and adapter David Benioff (Troy). It pungently evokes 1970s Afghanistan, but too much condensing once Amir and his father escape to America gives the movie an unfortunate herky-jerky quality.
Preteens Amir (Zalenia Ebrahimi) and his loving servant friend Hassan (Ahmed Khan Mahmidzada) bond over stories and competitive kite flying in Kabul. The calm soon shatters, not only from the Soviets’ invasion but also from a brutal crime against Hassan - which Amir witnesses but doesn’t stop. Amir, smeared with shame and jealous of his father’s preference for Hassan, then cruelly pushes Hassan away.
Forster’s previous work encompasses Southern melodrama (Monster’s Ball) and Peter Pan (Finding Neverland); here, he vividly reproduces the western Chinese desert as Afghanistan. Forster sets the tone with the credits, the flowing text enhanced by Alberto Iglesias’ score. An exquisite palate mixes sandy towns, snow-capped mountains and a sapphire sky dappled with colorful flying cloths. The casting is so smart, right down to young boys’ teeth: Hassan has mangled, malnourished choppers, while the more privileged Amir’s smile shines whiter and straighter. The characters even speak Dari.
Once The Kite Runner leaves Afghanistan, Forster’s grip on the film weakens; the midsection feels like a series of rushed vignettes. Amir (now Khalid Abdalla) graduates, meets and marries a fellow Afghan immigrant, and becomes a novelist, all in a rather short space. We learn very little about his and his father’s transition to California or how the past affects him. Therefore, Amir’s return to his homeland 20 years later lacks the necessary sense of redemption, and the climax with the Taliban seems ripped from Rambo.
The Kite Runner becomes airborne quickly. It‘s a shame it can‘t sustain its early heights.
Khaled Hosseini’s best-seller The Kite Runner becomes only a passable film in the hands of director Marc Forster and adapter David Benioff (Troy). It pungently evokes 1970s Afghanistan, but too much condensing once Amir and his father escape to America gives the movie an unfortunate herky-jerky quality.
Preteens Amir (Zalenia Ebrahimi) and his loving servant friend Hassan (Ahmed Khan Mahmidzada) bond over stories and competitive kite flying in Kabul. The calm soon shatters, not only from the Soviets’ invasion but also from a brutal crime against Hassan - which Amir witnesses but doesn’t stop. Amir, smeared with shame and jealous of his father’s preference for Hassan, then cruelly pushes Hassan away.
Forster’s previous work encompasses Southern melodrama (Monster’s Ball) and Peter Pan (Finding Neverland); here, he vividly reproduces the western Chinese desert as Afghanistan. Forster sets the tone with the credits, the flowing text enhanced by Alberto Iglesias’ score. An exquisite palate mixes sandy towns, snow-capped mountains and a sapphire sky dappled with colorful flying cloths. The casting is so smart, right down to young boys’ teeth: Hassan has mangled, malnourished choppers, while the more privileged Amir’s smile shines whiter and straighter. The characters even speak Dari.
Once The Kite Runner leaves Afghanistan, Forster’s grip on the film weakens; the midsection feels like a series of rushed vignettes. Amir (now Khalid Abdalla) graduates, meets and marries a fellow Afghan immigrant, and becomes a novelist, all in a rather short space. We learn very little about his and his father’s transition to California or how the past affects him. Therefore, Amir’s return to his homeland 20 years later lacks the necessary sense of redemption, and the climax with the Taliban seems ripped from Rambo.
The Kite Runner becomes airborne quickly. It‘s a shame it can‘t sustain its early heights.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I love days like this ... or at least, I used to
Several people have asked me my thoughts on today's Oscar nominations. In a word: eh.
The problem with the blog culture - and I guess that now includes me - is that it allows for so few surprises. Everyone has something to say, predictions to make; I read an average of six blogs a day on this very topic. Therefore, it seems as if everyone's nomination had been expected.
Except for one. Each year, somehow, someone surprises us. He or she hasn't popped up on any list from the Golden Globes, SAG, the New York Film Critics, the L.A. Film Critics, the Siberia Film Critics, the Mars Film Critics ... despite being acclaimed by just about every reviewer. Then the Academy somehow takes notice. This year, that person was Tommy Lee Jones, who gave the performance of his career in September's little-seen In the Valley of Elah. I sang his praises in an earlier post.
First review from my class: In the Valley of Elah
I'm very disappointed that Angelina Jolie wasn't nominated for A Mighty Heart. After about 10 minutes, I forgot I was watching America's second-favorite tabloid target. The moment Mariane learns of her husband's death is one of the most devastating on film all year. Before, Jolie has been nothing but measured optimisim, a warm smile, a strong voice. It makes the guttural scream that follows that much more powerful and shocking.
I'm starting to think Cate Blanchett gets nominated just for breathing. The nod for I'm Not There is deserved (more on that later, though); the one for Elizabeth: The Golden Age is another story. First of all, how could anyone hear her dialogue over that ominpresent score?? Second, Elizabeth comes across as a weak teenager with a crush in this film. Yes, it's Clive Owen (drool), but she's supposed to be the leader of the free world! Cate should know better.
Even though I think it's a wee bit overrated as a film, I'm pleased Once received a Best Song nomination. What about music from Hairspray, though? What about the amazing music from Into the Wild? I understand some stupid controversy knocked that and There Will Be Blood out of contention for Best Score (leaving us with, oh no, Atonement), but what about Eddie Vedder's "Guaranteed" for a song nod?
Jonny Greenwood's 'Blood' score disqualified by AMPAS
Speaking of Into the Wild, it also was shafted in the cinematography category. I have several problems with the film, but music and look aren't among them.
The experimental, 100-word review: Into the Wild
Onto the categories. ...
Flick: I've seen all five, and No Country for Old Men should win. It's my No. 2 choice for 2007, behind only The Lives of Others (which won the Best Foreign Film last year). I'm surprised Atonement made it in; I thought the momentum passed it by in favor of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.
Director: I hate distractions at the movies: snacks, cellphones. people talking to me. However, I have been known to dislike the Coen brothers so much that I spent money to ... well, make out during Fargo. Therefore, to make it through No Country for Old Men with such awe means they clearly should win Best Director. Meanwhile, why was Jason Reitman nominated for Juno? How was that film a feat of direction? Tim Burton would have been a much better choice for Sweeney Todd, and I like Burton about as much as I do the Coen brothers.
Actor: It sounds cheesy, but I'd be happy for anyone here; they're all deserving, What a packed category this is! We don't even have room for my British cutie James McAvoy or the amazing Ryan Gosling. Of the five options, though, I'm going with Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises. When I first saw the movie, I said to myself, "Who is this shifty-looking dude with gelled hair, and where is Viggo?" It took literally 15 minutes for me to realize that WAS the hunk from those endless Lord of the Rings movies.
Actress: With no Angie, I'm going with Julie Christie in Away from Her. I saw this movie during the worst of my father's cancer battle in the spring. It wrecked me, and I'll never watch it again. (Christie's character has Alzheimer's, but it was the couple-facing-illness parallels that affected me so deeply.) Besides, she's in her 60s and just luminous. HOWEVER: I haven't seen The Savages (and Laura Linney) yet.
Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman would be my pick most years, despite his unfortunate resemblance to my junior-year stalker, but Javier Bardem takes creepiness to new levels in No Country. HOWEVER: I haven't seen Casey Affleck in the movie with the world's longest title (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford).
Supporting Actress: It's a tough call here. I feel as if Ruby Dee is the Lifetime Achievement Nomination. I loved Gone Baby Gone (No. 3 on my '07 best), but Amy Ryan wasn't my favorite part. Sandra and I complain that it seems as if women have to ACT to win an Oscar, and isn't that what Blanchett is doing playing Bob Dylan (albeit very well)? That leaves the better performance - 13-year-old Saiorse Ronan in Atonement - against one of my all-time favorite actresses in an only-OK role - Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton. I'm punting.
Original Screenplay: I haven't seen The Savages, so for now I'm going with Lars and the Real Girl. There's no doubt this was an original story, and it could have been mawkish or creepy beyond belief. However, it's incredibly moving, touching, and says great things about us as people. It made me like Emily Mortimer for the first time! Thanks to my best friend Tim for the recommendation.
Adapted Screenplay: I have a hard time with this category every year because I believe in knowing the original source material, and in this case, I know only Atonement's. I can't form an opinion.
The Siskel and Ebert "Stand Up and Cheer" Award: When Roger Ebert and the late Gene Siskel used to host their annual Oscars show, they had a category for the win that would excite them most. For me, it would be No End in Sight winning Best Documentary. This is an important film, people.
The problem with the blog culture - and I guess that now includes me - is that it allows for so few surprises. Everyone has something to say, predictions to make; I read an average of six blogs a day on this very topic. Therefore, it seems as if everyone's nomination had been expected.
Except for one. Each year, somehow, someone surprises us. He or she hasn't popped up on any list from the Golden Globes, SAG, the New York Film Critics, the L.A. Film Critics, the Siberia Film Critics, the Mars Film Critics ... despite being acclaimed by just about every reviewer. Then the Academy somehow takes notice. This year, that person was Tommy Lee Jones, who gave the performance of his career in September's little-seen In the Valley of Elah. I sang his praises in an earlier post.
First review from my class: In the Valley of Elah
I'm very disappointed that Angelina Jolie wasn't nominated for A Mighty Heart. After about 10 minutes, I forgot I was watching America's second-favorite tabloid target. The moment Mariane learns of her husband's death is one of the most devastating on film all year. Before, Jolie has been nothing but measured optimisim, a warm smile, a strong voice. It makes the guttural scream that follows that much more powerful and shocking.
I'm starting to think Cate Blanchett gets nominated just for breathing. The nod for I'm Not There is deserved (more on that later, though); the one for Elizabeth: The Golden Age is another story. First of all, how could anyone hear her dialogue over that ominpresent score?? Second, Elizabeth comes across as a weak teenager with a crush in this film. Yes, it's Clive Owen (drool), but she's supposed to be the leader of the free world! Cate should know better.
Even though I think it's a wee bit overrated as a film, I'm pleased Once received a Best Song nomination. What about music from Hairspray, though? What about the amazing music from Into the Wild? I understand some stupid controversy knocked that and There Will Be Blood out of contention for Best Score (leaving us with, oh no, Atonement), but what about Eddie Vedder's "Guaranteed" for a song nod?
Jonny Greenwood's 'Blood' score disqualified by AMPAS
Speaking of Into the Wild, it also was shafted in the cinematography category. I have several problems with the film, but music and look aren't among them.
The experimental, 100-word review: Into the Wild
Onto the categories. ...
Flick: I've seen all five, and No Country for Old Men should win. It's my No. 2 choice for 2007, behind only The Lives of Others (which won the Best Foreign Film last year). I'm surprised Atonement made it in; I thought the momentum passed it by in favor of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.
Director: I hate distractions at the movies: snacks, cellphones. people talking to me. However, I have been known to dislike the Coen brothers so much that I spent money to ... well, make out during Fargo. Therefore, to make it through No Country for Old Men with such awe means they clearly should win Best Director. Meanwhile, why was Jason Reitman nominated for Juno? How was that film a feat of direction? Tim Burton would have been a much better choice for Sweeney Todd, and I like Burton about as much as I do the Coen brothers.
Actor: It sounds cheesy, but I'd be happy for anyone here; they're all deserving, What a packed category this is! We don't even have room for my British cutie James McAvoy or the amazing Ryan Gosling. Of the five options, though, I'm going with Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises. When I first saw the movie, I said to myself, "Who is this shifty-looking dude with gelled hair, and where is Viggo?" It took literally 15 minutes for me to realize that WAS the hunk from those endless Lord of the Rings movies.
Actress: With no Angie, I'm going with Julie Christie in Away from Her. I saw this movie during the worst of my father's cancer battle in the spring. It wrecked me, and I'll never watch it again. (Christie's character has Alzheimer's, but it was the couple-facing-illness parallels that affected me so deeply.) Besides, she's in her 60s and just luminous. HOWEVER: I haven't seen The Savages (and Laura Linney) yet.
Supporting Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman would be my pick most years, despite his unfortunate resemblance to my junior-year stalker, but Javier Bardem takes creepiness to new levels in No Country. HOWEVER: I haven't seen Casey Affleck in the movie with the world's longest title (The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford).
Supporting Actress: It's a tough call here. I feel as if Ruby Dee is the Lifetime Achievement Nomination. I loved Gone Baby Gone (No. 3 on my '07 best), but Amy Ryan wasn't my favorite part. Sandra and I complain that it seems as if women have to ACT to win an Oscar, and isn't that what Blanchett is doing playing Bob Dylan (albeit very well)? That leaves the better performance - 13-year-old Saiorse Ronan in Atonement - against one of my all-time favorite actresses in an only-OK role - Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton. I'm punting.
Original Screenplay: I haven't seen The Savages, so for now I'm going with Lars and the Real Girl. There's no doubt this was an original story, and it could have been mawkish or creepy beyond belief. However, it's incredibly moving, touching, and says great things about us as people. It made me like Emily Mortimer for the first time! Thanks to my best friend Tim for the recommendation.
Adapted Screenplay: I have a hard time with this category every year because I believe in knowing the original source material, and in this case, I know only Atonement's. I can't form an opinion.
The Siskel and Ebert "Stand Up and Cheer" Award: When Roger Ebert and the late Gene Siskel used to host their annual Oscars show, they had a category for the win that would excite them most. For me, it would be No End in Sight winning Best Documentary. This is an important film, people.
My 10 Favorites ever (at least they were in October)
Apparently, I never posted this list, and now I've referenced it twice. Oops!
P.S. Amy, I'll write something more detailed about nominations later, but for now, I'll say I'm surprised Angelina Jolie wasn't nominated, I'm surprised that Tommy Lee Jones was, and that Into the Wild was shafted where it should not have been.
I have a two-year-minimum rule before something can be on my 10 Best list. That way, I know it's not just a "fling" but a real love affair. This list, of course, is fluid. In fact, when I first saw the No. 1 movie on it, I wasn't sure I even liked said flick!
1) Dogma
2) Laura
3) Chicago
4) All about My Mother
5) Singin’ in the Rain
6) North by Northwest
7) All about Eve
8) Pride & Prejudice (the Keira Knightley version)
9) Chasing Amy
10) The Taking of Pelham One Two Three
(Ten other flicks that frequently pop up on this list, in no particular order, are Hoop Dreams; The Wings of the Dove; Garden State; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Four Weddings and a Funeral; Good Will Hunting; The English Patient; The Graduate; Midnight Cowboy; and Ordinary People.)
P.S. Amy, I'll write something more detailed about nominations later, but for now, I'll say I'm surprised Angelina Jolie wasn't nominated, I'm surprised that Tommy Lee Jones was, and that Into the Wild was shafted where it should not have been.
I have a two-year-minimum rule before something can be on my 10 Best list. That way, I know it's not just a "fling" but a real love affair. This list, of course, is fluid. In fact, when I first saw the No. 1 movie on it, I wasn't sure I even liked said flick!
1) Dogma
2) Laura
3) Chicago
4) All about My Mother
5) Singin’ in the Rain
6) North by Northwest
7) All about Eve
8) Pride & Prejudice (the Keira Knightley version)
9) Chasing Amy
10) The Taking of Pelham One Two Three
(Ten other flicks that frequently pop up on this list, in no particular order, are Hoop Dreams; The Wings of the Dove; Garden State; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Four Weddings and a Funeral; Good Will Hunting; The English Patient; The Graduate; Midnight Cowboy; and Ordinary People.)
Sunday, January 20, 2008
'Mad' for my parents
My mother likes Diane Keaton. My father loves Queen Latifah. I am a good daughter. Therefore, when my mother suggested we see Mad Money on Saturday - I tried to convince them to see The Savages - I agreed to join them. I have to admit I was doing it solely because I like my parents; Mad Money's commercials made me cringe. Do my parents owe me? Read on.
Mad Money fits the “Saturday matinee” label: formulaic but frothy fun.
Callie Khouri (Thelma and Louise) mixes the demographics friendly trio of Diane Keaton, Queen Latifah and Katie Holmes for the girlfriends’ Ocean’s Eleven. Keaton, as Martha Stewart-ish Bridget Cardigan (yes, she has several), plays a down-on-her-luck janitor at the Federal Reserve in Kansas City. She drags single mother Nina (Latifah) and music-loving Jackie (Holmes) into her scheme to steal out-of-circulation money before it‘s shredded. After all, Bridget thinks, who’d miss it?
Glenn Gers’ script, adapted from a British TV movie, offers only the broadest character sketches, so the actresses must find their own depth. Latifah fares best: Although Nina may be the most reluctant participant, she, and Latifah, balance the crew. Latifah, whose film career began with a robbery drama (1996’s Set It Off), tweaks poor-urban-mother stereotypes, particularly at a private school for her sons. Keaton does blissfully amoral surprisingly well - she delights in a $62,000 diamond ring when discretion would be advisable - and employs her dithering tics more effectively than usual. Holmes has an even-sketchier outline than Keaton and Latifah: We never learn much about Jackie, except for a throwaway comment about early-onset diabetes. Unfortunately, Holmes lacks the comedic chops to create something beyond an exaggerated version of madcap.
One questions how the ladies smuggle money out of the Fed while barely alerting security, and the repeated money shots reek of cash porn. But for breezy, bawdy amusement, Mad Money may be worth your dough.
Mad Money fits the “Saturday matinee” label: formulaic but frothy fun.
Callie Khouri (Thelma and Louise) mixes the demographics friendly trio of Diane Keaton, Queen Latifah and Katie Holmes for the girlfriends’ Ocean’s Eleven. Keaton, as Martha Stewart-ish Bridget Cardigan (yes, she has several), plays a down-on-her-luck janitor at the Federal Reserve in Kansas City. She drags single mother Nina (Latifah) and music-loving Jackie (Holmes) into her scheme to steal out-of-circulation money before it‘s shredded. After all, Bridget thinks, who’d miss it?
Glenn Gers’ script, adapted from a British TV movie, offers only the broadest character sketches, so the actresses must find their own depth. Latifah fares best: Although Nina may be the most reluctant participant, she, and Latifah, balance the crew. Latifah, whose film career began with a robbery drama (1996’s Set It Off), tweaks poor-urban-mother stereotypes, particularly at a private school for her sons. Keaton does blissfully amoral surprisingly well - she delights in a $62,000 diamond ring when discretion would be advisable - and employs her dithering tics more effectively than usual. Holmes has an even-sketchier outline than Keaton and Latifah: We never learn much about Jackie, except for a throwaway comment about early-onset diabetes. Unfortunately, Holmes lacks the comedic chops to create something beyond an exaggerated version of madcap.
One questions how the ladies smuggle money out of the Fed while barely alerting security, and the repeated money shots reek of cash porn. But for breezy, bawdy amusement, Mad Money may be worth your dough.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
My frustrating filmgoing
The review is long, so let's skip an intro and move right to my analysis.
Atonement should have been my perfect film. It’s a period piece – a British one, no less. It’s based on an acclaimed book. The star-crossed lovers remain heartbreakingly crossed – here, the result of the incorrectly vivid imaginings of a young girl. It stars actors I like, James McAvoy and Keira Knightley. Atonement reunites Knightley with half the creative team behind her 2005 Pride and Prejudice (No. 8 on my All-Time Favorites list), most notably director Joe Wright. It features gush-worthy clothes and makeup. So why, after two viewings, can I still not embrace this movie???
Let’s analyze Atonement to see if I can come up with a diagnosis.
▪ screenplay: Christopher Hampton delivers a mostly faithful adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel. The first 50 minutes are an almost-perfect rendering of the hot summer day, the momentous letter, and the circumstances Briony (here, Saoirse Ronan) gravely misinterprets between her sister and the gardener. The Dunkirk part remains troublesome, though; it brought the book to a halt for me, and Hampton can’t overcome that for the film. The major adjustment made to the last 10 minutes may have given us Vanessa Redgrave and an interviewer, but it softens Briony too much.
▪ acting: When I read Atonement, I couldn’t picture Knightley as proud, bored college grad Cecilia – nothing in her filmography (the Pirates franchise, Bend It Like Beckham) suggested she could transition from upper-class snob to devoted lover. How wrong I was. Knightley’s Cecilia is quick-tongued and haughty toward Robbie (McAvoy) as she masks feelings she may not even know she has. Once Cecelia and Robbie unfurl their passion, Knightley shows her character’s evolution through slower, more thoughtful speech and clandestine gestures. It’s a mature actress and woman before us, in love. Ah, love – how could any red-blooded woman not swoon over McAvoy? Robbie is smart, a servant’s son studying to become a doctor. He’s kind to Briony despite her troublesome crush. He looks great in uniform. Like Knightley, McAvoy gives his most adult performance, months after looking foppish as Jane Austen’s suitor in Becoming Jane. The casting of Briony at 13, 18, and 70-something is impeccable: Ronan, Romola Garai, and Redgrave share the same side-parted bob, round face, and cornflower-blue eyes, orbs that grow increasingly weary. Ronan grasps the prissiness of the teenage Briony. She sits primly and walks with her arms straight at her sides, with feet that come together precisely when she stops. Garai is subdued, appropriate for her growing regret, but perhaps too muted. Redgrave, wrapping up Atonement, gives an indelible image of sadness and release.
▪ direction: Wright’s cutaways are especially deft in the first third of Atonement. He and composer Dario Marianelli use repetitive piano keys to signal a change in point of view. In one scene, Wright moves from Cecilia diving into a pond to escape talk of Robbie to the object of her affection rising from a bath, dreaming of her. The director most effectively employs back-and-forth close-ups in time to an aria as Robbie and Cecelia prepare for a party. He types, listens to music, and smokes; she does her makeup (blotting her crimson lipstick to a stain), practices conversation, and smokes. As the recording peaks, Robbie types a fateful word, and Cecilia chooses a stunning green dress. Alas, Atonement can’t sustain this intensity after Robbie’s arrest. A five-minute tracking shot of Dunkirk is majestic, moving from stumbling drunkards to a men’s chorus on a burned-out gazebo; Wright contrasts a Ferris wheel with head wounds and shootings. However, it’s a distraction from the meat of the story. War-torn London doesn’t fare much better when Wright returns to Briony. The scrubbing she does as a nurse should serve as a metaphor, but because Garai cowers so much, it just looks pathetic.
▪ score: This is a major problem, particularly on second viewing. At first, Marianelli coordinates skillfully with the onscreen action. Piano keys move in time with Briony’s typing speed, then rise and fall as she walks through her bustling house. Briony and Cecilia have signature sounds: the typewriter for Briony, the flick of a lighter for Cecilia. Unfortunately, the score stops being complementary (which Marianelli’s P&P work was) and becomes overwhelming. It’s most obvious during the war sequences, when we go from subtle quiet during Robbie’s voiceovers to bombast accompanying the vast expanse of the beach and its carnage.
In conclusion: Atonement is a good film, but not a great one. Mostly impressive acting cannot make up flaws in source material, pace, and music.
Atonement should have been my perfect film. It’s a period piece – a British one, no less. It’s based on an acclaimed book. The star-crossed lovers remain heartbreakingly crossed – here, the result of the incorrectly vivid imaginings of a young girl. It stars actors I like, James McAvoy and Keira Knightley. Atonement reunites Knightley with half the creative team behind her 2005 Pride and Prejudice (No. 8 on my All-Time Favorites list), most notably director Joe Wright. It features gush-worthy clothes and makeup. So why, after two viewings, can I still not embrace this movie???
Let’s analyze Atonement to see if I can come up with a diagnosis.
▪ screenplay: Christopher Hampton delivers a mostly faithful adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel. The first 50 minutes are an almost-perfect rendering of the hot summer day, the momentous letter, and the circumstances Briony (here, Saoirse Ronan) gravely misinterprets between her sister and the gardener. The Dunkirk part remains troublesome, though; it brought the book to a halt for me, and Hampton can’t overcome that for the film. The major adjustment made to the last 10 minutes may have given us Vanessa Redgrave and an interviewer, but it softens Briony too much.
▪ acting: When I read Atonement, I couldn’t picture Knightley as proud, bored college grad Cecilia – nothing in her filmography (the Pirates franchise, Bend It Like Beckham) suggested she could transition from upper-class snob to devoted lover. How wrong I was. Knightley’s Cecilia is quick-tongued and haughty toward Robbie (McAvoy) as she masks feelings she may not even know she has. Once Cecelia and Robbie unfurl their passion, Knightley shows her character’s evolution through slower, more thoughtful speech and clandestine gestures. It’s a mature actress and woman before us, in love. Ah, love – how could any red-blooded woman not swoon over McAvoy? Robbie is smart, a servant’s son studying to become a doctor. He’s kind to Briony despite her troublesome crush. He looks great in uniform. Like Knightley, McAvoy gives his most adult performance, months after looking foppish as Jane Austen’s suitor in Becoming Jane. The casting of Briony at 13, 18, and 70-something is impeccable: Ronan, Romola Garai, and Redgrave share the same side-parted bob, round face, and cornflower-blue eyes, orbs that grow increasingly weary. Ronan grasps the prissiness of the teenage Briony. She sits primly and walks with her arms straight at her sides, with feet that come together precisely when she stops. Garai is subdued, appropriate for her growing regret, but perhaps too muted. Redgrave, wrapping up Atonement, gives an indelible image of sadness and release.
▪ direction: Wright’s cutaways are especially deft in the first third of Atonement. He and composer Dario Marianelli use repetitive piano keys to signal a change in point of view. In one scene, Wright moves from Cecilia diving into a pond to escape talk of Robbie to the object of her affection rising from a bath, dreaming of her. The director most effectively employs back-and-forth close-ups in time to an aria as Robbie and Cecelia prepare for a party. He types, listens to music, and smokes; she does her makeup (blotting her crimson lipstick to a stain), practices conversation, and smokes. As the recording peaks, Robbie types a fateful word, and Cecilia chooses a stunning green dress. Alas, Atonement can’t sustain this intensity after Robbie’s arrest. A five-minute tracking shot of Dunkirk is majestic, moving from stumbling drunkards to a men’s chorus on a burned-out gazebo; Wright contrasts a Ferris wheel with head wounds and shootings. However, it’s a distraction from the meat of the story. War-torn London doesn’t fare much better when Wright returns to Briony. The scrubbing she does as a nurse should serve as a metaphor, but because Garai cowers so much, it just looks pathetic.
▪ score: This is a major problem, particularly on second viewing. At first, Marianelli coordinates skillfully with the onscreen action. Piano keys move in time with Briony’s typing speed, then rise and fall as she walks through her bustling house. Briony and Cecilia have signature sounds: the typewriter for Briony, the flick of a lighter for Cecilia. Unfortunately, the score stops being complementary (which Marianelli’s P&P work was) and becomes overwhelming. It’s most obvious during the war sequences, when we go from subtle quiet during Robbie’s voiceovers to bombast accompanying the vast expanse of the beach and its carnage.
In conclusion: Atonement is a good film, but not a great one. Mostly impressive acting cannot make up flaws in source material, pace, and music.
Walk Away from Dewey Cox
I don't "get" Judd Apatow. I found Knocked Up demeaning to women, I barely tittered at The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and I thought Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby would never end - and I like Will Ferrell! On the other hand, I'm a sucker for a good spoof or satire; Airplane, The Naked Gun, and Waiting for Guffman are among my favorite comedies. Which part of my movie personality would win out here?
Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story wants to be a Zucker-style spoof of musical biographies but instead plays more like the latest installment of the Scary Movie franchise. The script by Judd Apatow (Knocked Up) and director Jake Kasdan (who helmed the television satire The TV Set) lets down a game John C. Reilly. The actor relishes crooning cleverly innuendo-laden songs such as “Let’s Duet (Together)” before he’s forced to play one too many Will Ferrell moments. As Dewey ingests more drugs and smashes more sinks and guitars, it’s not just his life that comes apart – it’s also Walk Hard.
Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story wants to be a Zucker-style spoof of musical biographies but instead plays more like the latest installment of the Scary Movie franchise. The script by Judd Apatow (Knocked Up) and director Jake Kasdan (who helmed the television satire The TV Set) lets down a game John C. Reilly. The actor relishes crooning cleverly innuendo-laden songs such as “Let’s Duet (Together)” before he’s forced to play one too many Will Ferrell moments. As Dewey ingests more drugs and smashes more sinks and guitars, it’s not just his life that comes apart – it’s also Walk Hard.
Loving Laura
My friend Sandra teased me the other day that I hadn't posted a review since I started dating my boyfriend. Since he's in Miami at a wedding this weekend, and I'm freezing in Boston, I figured it was time to update the blog. After all, I've seen about half a dozen movies since the year began. My favorite, though, was a re-viewing of my No. 2 choice for all-time greats: Laura. Film Forum hosted an Otto Preminger series earlier this month, and Laura kicked it off. (P.S. Thanks to the festival, I discovered another gem, the riveting courtroom drama Anatomy of a Murder.)
I shall never forget the day I first saw Laura. A heavy, foreboding gray covered the sky like an oversize blanket, representative of the black-and-white classic’s noirish nature. It was a most humid Sunday, as I recall – but given the sold-out Film Forum screening, I most certainly did not feel like the only human being left in New York.
I’ve seen Otto Preminger’s 1944 film several times since that August day, and each time the clipped, precise intonations of Clifton Webb’s Waldo Lydecker captivate me. The fabulously melodramatic story of a detective falling in love with a murder victim receives a boost from David Raskin’s swooning score. The screenplay, based on a Vera Caspary novel, delights with its bounty of quips. Lydecker, a voice of print and radio, naturally scores the best lines; after all, he “writes with a goose quill dipped in venom” and says the secret of his charm is “I'm not kind, I'm vicious.” (Lydecker reportedly is based on theater critic and famed Algonquin wit Alexander Woollcott.)
At first, Laura seems to be a typical whodunit: The titular character (Gene Tierney), a charismatic ad executive, is found dead in her New York City apartment. The prototype gruff officer (Dana Andrews) investigates several suspects, including Laura’s pretty-boy significant other, Shelby (a young Vincent Price) and her mentor, Lydecker himself (who says that “to overlook me would have been a pointed insult”). About halfway through the movie, Detective McPherson is entranced by Laura’s portrait and her being, when who should appear but … the not-so-dead girl. And thus a new mystery begins.
Preminger sets up that fateful moment splendidly: McPherson, alcohol in hand, nods off. The camera pulls back, the door unlocks, and Laura herself casually walks in. The viewer remains as uncertain as the hazy McPherson – is this a dream or a ghost? She can’t be real, can she? Throughout the film, Preminger confidently balances the seriousness of a killing (or attempted killing) with a twisted love affair or three and several arsenic-laced bon-mots. Rarely has a thriller had so many deliberately laugh-out-loud moments, not only from Lydecker but also from Shelby, who “can afford a blemish on (his) character, but not on (his) clothes.” Preminger also teases us with shots of ornate clocks – how will they play into the final act?
Andrews and Tierney are fine, and a Redford-esque Price is a surprise for those who know him only from scary movies and the Thriller video. Still, it’s Webb’s performance that most strongly blazes more than 60 years after Laura’s release. Whether he’s arrogantly ordering the police around his house while sitting in a bathtub or sniping about “what promises to be a disgustingly earthy relationship,” Webb makes Lydecker a character to remember. Webb, a silent-film star who hadn’t acted in more than a decade, received an Academy Award nomination for his work and reinvigorated his career.
In describing Laura to McPherson, Lydecker said, “She had warmth, vitality. She had authentic magnetism.” So does Laura the movie.
I shall never forget the day I first saw Laura. A heavy, foreboding gray covered the sky like an oversize blanket, representative of the black-and-white classic’s noirish nature. It was a most humid Sunday, as I recall – but given the sold-out Film Forum screening, I most certainly did not feel like the only human being left in New York.
I’ve seen Otto Preminger’s 1944 film several times since that August day, and each time the clipped, precise intonations of Clifton Webb’s Waldo Lydecker captivate me. The fabulously melodramatic story of a detective falling in love with a murder victim receives a boost from David Raskin’s swooning score. The screenplay, based on a Vera Caspary novel, delights with its bounty of quips. Lydecker, a voice of print and radio, naturally scores the best lines; after all, he “writes with a goose quill dipped in venom” and says the secret of his charm is “I'm not kind, I'm vicious.” (Lydecker reportedly is based on theater critic and famed Algonquin wit Alexander Woollcott.)
At first, Laura seems to be a typical whodunit: The titular character (Gene Tierney), a charismatic ad executive, is found dead in her New York City apartment. The prototype gruff officer (Dana Andrews) investigates several suspects, including Laura’s pretty-boy significant other, Shelby (a young Vincent Price) and her mentor, Lydecker himself (who says that “to overlook me would have been a pointed insult”). About halfway through the movie, Detective McPherson is entranced by Laura’s portrait and her being, when who should appear but … the not-so-dead girl. And thus a new mystery begins.
Preminger sets up that fateful moment splendidly: McPherson, alcohol in hand, nods off. The camera pulls back, the door unlocks, and Laura herself casually walks in. The viewer remains as uncertain as the hazy McPherson – is this a dream or a ghost? She can’t be real, can she? Throughout the film, Preminger confidently balances the seriousness of a killing (or attempted killing) with a twisted love affair or three and several arsenic-laced bon-mots. Rarely has a thriller had so many deliberately laugh-out-loud moments, not only from Lydecker but also from Shelby, who “can afford a blemish on (his) character, but not on (his) clothes.” Preminger also teases us with shots of ornate clocks – how will they play into the final act?
Andrews and Tierney are fine, and a Redford-esque Price is a surprise for those who know him only from scary movies and the Thriller video. Still, it’s Webb’s performance that most strongly blazes more than 60 years after Laura’s release. Whether he’s arrogantly ordering the police around his house while sitting in a bathtub or sniping about “what promises to be a disgustingly earthy relationship,” Webb makes Lydecker a character to remember. Webb, a silent-film star who hadn’t acted in more than a decade, received an Academy Award nomination for his work and reinvigorated his career.
In describing Laura to McPherson, Lydecker said, “She had warmth, vitality. She had authentic magnetism.” So does Laura the movie.
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