LES MISÉRABLES (2012)
Directed by Tom Hooper
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Amanda Seyfried, Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Helena Bonham Carter, Aaron Tveit, Samantha Barks, Daniel Huttlestone, Colm Wilkenson
You're probably wondering why I haven't posted here in...*looks at watch*...five months. To be honest, I just lost interest in the project. I just couldn't find any movie that I really wanted to write about. What fun is it to watch the classics - films everyone knows are great - only to watch them and find out, surprise! they're great! Volumes have been written about them, so there's really nothing new I can bring to the discussion.
To be even more honest, there really hasn't been that much going on at the cinemas, either. Nothing that has been coming out for the last year or so has done much to pull me in or part me from my hard-earned cash. That is, until I saw the trailer for what is probably the most anticipated musical film adaptation in years: Les Misérables.
The first trailer I saw featured Anne Hathaway, head shorn and body beaten, playing Fantine and tearfully warbling through I Dreamed a Dream over a montage of images from the film. This did more than just pique my interest. Those images and that sound told me that I absolutely had to see this film. I swore I would see it on Christmas Day, the day it opened. But it turned out I had to work on Christmas, so I had to wait until the day after.
All of this can make it seem like I've seen the stage show hundreds of times and knew every song inside and out. But I haven't and I don't. I own the original Broadway soundtrack and came to love it very much, but I have yet to see the show on stage. And since the stage version was pretty much unknown to me, my knowledge of the story was incomplete. Most soundtrack versions were also incomplete, as the score features a lot of recitative (that is, talk-singing) between numbers. Album producers consider this nothing more than filler, so they don't include it, even though these sequences can contain key plot points. It should also be noted that I have yet to slog my way through all 1,463 pages of Victor Hugo's novel, though I have attempted it numerous times.
The story is, indeed, immense, spanning decades and involving a massive cast of characters. In fact, it's so immense, that I'd need a couple hundred pages to describe it all. If you've never seen the show or read the book, it concerns a man named Jean Valjean (Jackman), a convict turned upright citizen, and a police inspector named Javert (Crowe), who hunts him down to the ends of the earth for breaking his parole. Along the way, we see the plight of the lower rungs of society, from a prostitute (Hathaway) and her estranged daughter (Seyfried) (whom Valjean adopts as his own), to a pair of crooked innkeepers (Baron Cohen, Bonham-Carter), to a group of privileged university students who rebel against the government. All the while, the themes of sin, redemption, right and wrong and mercy versus the rigid arm the law are all explored.
The thing that I remember loving about the original soundtrack was the emotional arc of it. Most of that emotion was retained in this film version, though it was through a method that was very much unheard of in the realm of musical films: live singing. Every note of every song was filmed live on camera. This goes against the usual practice of recording the vocals weeks - even months - ahead of time, then having the actors mime to their own singing. Director Tom Hooper wanted the maximum amount of emotion from all his actors, and this was a downright revolutionary way to go about it. But the problem is, it doesn't always work. Don't get me wrong, there are times when it works wonderfully - especially, in I Dreamed a Dream, which is not only sung live, but done in one, long, heart-wrenching take, in which Anne Hathaway bears her very soul to the camera. But there are many times when it seems that the backing track (which was recorded later) seems to be playing catch-up to the actors' performances. The effect is like that of an orchestra without an conductor. Everyone is just reacting off of everyone else, thus the music can sound sloppy and unpolished at times. Granted, this may be what Hooper was going for, but the end result ends up sounding improvisational at best and unprofessional at worst.
As far as the vocal performances go, live singing doesn't leave any room for studio magic. I've already said that Anne Hathaway was wonderful, but so was Hugh Jackman. I knew he was a wonderful singer, after I saw his performance as Curly in Oklahoma! But I didn't know he had the range he has. His musical acumen really surprised me. The same could be said for Amanda Seyfried as Cosette and Eddie Redmayne as Marius. Both showed an incredible amount of musical talent, while not making the acting seem strained and over-reaching. The same cannot be said about Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham-Carter (Mr and Mrs Thenardier). They look and act as if they'd wandered off the set of Sweeney Todd just to ham it up for their roles in this film. But the most glaring miscast in the entire film was Russell Crowe as Javert. It's not that he lacks the gravitas required for the role - it's just that he lacks the musical chops. Les Miz is, more or less, an opera, but Crowe sings his part with a rock-and-roll baritone that seems extremely out of place. I'm sure there were more qualified actors who might have been considered for the role, and I think some more thought should have been given to them. Crowe seemed out of place the entire time.
But despite its flaws, the most important aspect of the story - the emotional arc - is left comepletely intact. The ending is one of the most bittersweet I have ever seen in any film. And believe me when I tell you that there was not a dry eye in the house, including mine. All the suffering and all of the sorrow finally finds closure, and all of the weary souls who had been trod upon from the beginning of the film find rest. And while the ending scene comes off as a bit overly-theatrical, the message of swords being beaten into plowshares is enough to make even a jaded film-school graduate tear up. And that takes some doing.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Day 82: Are We Not Men?
ISLAND OF LOST SOULS (1932)
Directed by Erle C. Kenton
Starring: Charles Laughton, Bela Lugosi, Richard Arlen, Arthur Hohl, Kathleen Burke (as "The Panther Woman), Tetsu Komai, Leila Hyams
Every once in a while, I'll watch a film for the first time and realize it has influenced pretty much every aspect of my pop-culture world. Then it's as if I've been clued in to about a million in-jokes and references. Island of Lost Souls is one such film. Seriously, everyone from DEVO to Van Halen to Oingo Boingo was influenced by this film. It's been remade at least three times by directors who cite it as being one of the most influential they've ever seen. Every had anyone tell you, "The natives are restless?" This is where that came from.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
When a shipwrecked sailor named Edward Parker (Arlen) is found adrift, he is picked up by a ship transporting animals. He gets along well enough with the crew, particularly the amiable yet coy Montgomery (Hohl). However, when Parker slugs the ship's captain for his cruel treatment of a strange deck hand named M'ling (Komai), the captain vows revenge. He gets it when the ship makes its delivery - to another ship, in the middle of the ocean, no less. While the animals are being unloaded, the Captain conks Parker on the head and unloads him, too. A large man in a goatee (Laughton) protests, but the captain turns a deaf ear and sails on, leaving Parker behind. The large goateed man introduces himself as Dr. Moreau. He also re-introduces Montgomery and M'ling, who seem to work for the mysterious doctor. Moreau promises to return Parker to civilization first thing in the morning. However, being British and impeccably polite, he offers him dinner first. He also introduces him to Lota (Burke), one of the native women. Parker and Lota get on like Tarzan and Jane until they hear screams of agony coming from a nearby building that Lota dubs the "House of Pain." Parker investigates and finds Moreau and Montgomery vivisecting one of the beast-like natives without anesthesia. Parker tries to run, but runs into the native village. Right when they're about to tear him apart, Moreau appears with a gong, a gun and a whip. He screams, "What is the law?" One of the natives (Lugosi, credited as "The Sayer of the Law") repeats. "Not to spill blood. That is the law. Are we not men?" The other beast-men follow suit and Parker is spared, and spooked. He demands to be let off the island, but Moreau has other plans.
That's really all the plot synopsis you need, as a film like this one works best if you know very little going in. I've probably already said too much, but I refuse to spoil the ending.
Instead, I'll just talk about how out-of-the-loop I felt as I watched this film that has apparently been a favorite of film buffs for decades. Sometimes I'll come across such films, and they won't leave any lasting impact on me, or I'll find them overrated or just downright dull. That's not the case with Island of Lost Souls. It's wonderfully made, superbly acted and probably one of the creepiest films I've seen in a while. Charles Laughton was amazing as Doctor Moreau, playing the role more subtly than most actors of his day. On the opposite end of the spectrum was Bela Lugosi as the Sayer of the Law. He's not in the film very much, but toward the end he has a monologue when he and the other natives confront Moreau. And though it is very big and very over-the-top, it's probably one of the finest moments in Lugosi's career.
If you haven't guessed by now, the film was based on the H.G. Wells novel, The Island of Doctor Moreau, which as been made and re-made at least three other times. I've never seen them, but I've read about them. And if the reviews are any indication, this is the superior film version of the story, though Wells was very vocal about his dislike of the film, claiming it was made purely for shock value, rather than touching upon the weightier subjects of eugenics and the role of morality in science.
And of course, he's right - about the shock value, that is. This film is pretty shocking, especially for 1932. It's dark and violent, but then again, so is the story. The characters are all men of action, not the kind who try to out-debate one another (though there is a bit of that, too). As it is, the story isn't weighed down by a ton of dialogue and runs by at a brisk 71 minutes. But the genius of this film is how much they were able to put into that brief running time. The subjects that Wells brings forth are touched upon, but by action rather than by words, and the audience will definitely be thinking about the film, and the questions it brings up, long after it's over. It shocks like a good horror film and it makes you think like a good science fiction film. That's a tough task to pull off, but Island of Lost Souls does it.
Directed by Erle C. Kenton
Starring: Charles Laughton, Bela Lugosi, Richard Arlen, Arthur Hohl, Kathleen Burke (as "The Panther Woman), Tetsu Komai, Leila Hyams
Every once in a while, I'll watch a film for the first time and realize it has influenced pretty much every aspect of my pop-culture world. Then it's as if I've been clued in to about a million in-jokes and references. Island of Lost Souls is one such film. Seriously, everyone from DEVO to Van Halen to Oingo Boingo was influenced by this film. It's been remade at least three times by directors who cite it as being one of the most influential they've ever seen. Every had anyone tell you, "The natives are restless?" This is where that came from.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
When a shipwrecked sailor named Edward Parker (Arlen) is found adrift, he is picked up by a ship transporting animals. He gets along well enough with the crew, particularly the amiable yet coy Montgomery (Hohl). However, when Parker slugs the ship's captain for his cruel treatment of a strange deck hand named M'ling (Komai), the captain vows revenge. He gets it when the ship makes its delivery - to another ship, in the middle of the ocean, no less. While the animals are being unloaded, the Captain conks Parker on the head and unloads him, too. A large man in a goatee (Laughton) protests, but the captain turns a deaf ear and sails on, leaving Parker behind. The large goateed man introduces himself as Dr. Moreau. He also re-introduces Montgomery and M'ling, who seem to work for the mysterious doctor. Moreau promises to return Parker to civilization first thing in the morning. However, being British and impeccably polite, he offers him dinner first. He also introduces him to Lota (Burke), one of the native women. Parker and Lota get on like Tarzan and Jane until they hear screams of agony coming from a nearby building that Lota dubs the "House of Pain." Parker investigates and finds Moreau and Montgomery vivisecting one of the beast-like natives without anesthesia. Parker tries to run, but runs into the native village. Right when they're about to tear him apart, Moreau appears with a gong, a gun and a whip. He screams, "What is the law?" One of the natives (Lugosi, credited as "The Sayer of the Law") repeats. "Not to spill blood. That is the law. Are we not men?" The other beast-men follow suit and Parker is spared, and spooked. He demands to be let off the island, but Moreau has other plans.
That's really all the plot synopsis you need, as a film like this one works best if you know very little going in. I've probably already said too much, but I refuse to spoil the ending.
Instead, I'll just talk about how out-of-the-loop I felt as I watched this film that has apparently been a favorite of film buffs for decades. Sometimes I'll come across such films, and they won't leave any lasting impact on me, or I'll find them overrated or just downright dull. That's not the case with Island of Lost Souls. It's wonderfully made, superbly acted and probably one of the creepiest films I've seen in a while. Charles Laughton was amazing as Doctor Moreau, playing the role more subtly than most actors of his day. On the opposite end of the spectrum was Bela Lugosi as the Sayer of the Law. He's not in the film very much, but toward the end he has a monologue when he and the other natives confront Moreau. And though it is very big and very over-the-top, it's probably one of the finest moments in Lugosi's career.
If you haven't guessed by now, the film was based on the H.G. Wells novel, The Island of Doctor Moreau, which as been made and re-made at least three other times. I've never seen them, but I've read about them. And if the reviews are any indication, this is the superior film version of the story, though Wells was very vocal about his dislike of the film, claiming it was made purely for shock value, rather than touching upon the weightier subjects of eugenics and the role of morality in science.
And of course, he's right - about the shock value, that is. This film is pretty shocking, especially for 1932. It's dark and violent, but then again, so is the story. The characters are all men of action, not the kind who try to out-debate one another (though there is a bit of that, too). As it is, the story isn't weighed down by a ton of dialogue and runs by at a brisk 71 minutes. But the genius of this film is how much they were able to put into that brief running time. The subjects that Wells brings forth are touched upon, but by action rather than by words, and the audience will definitely be thinking about the film, and the questions it brings up, long after it's over. It shocks like a good horror film and it makes you think like a good science fiction film. That's a tough task to pull off, but Island of Lost Souls does it.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Day 81: Pain Don't Hurt
ROAD HOUSE (1989)
Directed by Rowdy Herrington
Starring: Patrick Swayze, Sam Elliot, Ben Gazzara, Kelly Lynch, Jeff Healey (and his band), Terry Funk, Kevin Tighe, "Sunshine" Parker (not making that up), John Doe (that either)
A few months ago, I reviewed a documentary called Best Worst Movie, which posed a question: What is it about bad movie that we love so much? While Best Worst Movie was about Troll 2 and its legion of devoted fans, I have to say that I have just watched a movie that, while reviled by many critics, is loved by millions of movie fans. And that film is Road House.
The story is pretty darned simple. Dalton (Swayze) is a bouncer who goes from town to town taking work in various dive bars around the country. One night, Frank Tilghman (Tighe) approaches Dalton and asks for his help in cleaning up his bar, the Double Deuce. Dalton asks for, what I'm guessing, is an astronomical fee for a bouncer, but Tilghman pays it anyway, and Dalton makes good on his word, picking up and moving to a small town just outsideLos Angeles Kansas City. And all the famous Kansas City sites are there: the rugged mountains, the palm trees, the 101 freeway. Too bad they couldn't work in Kansas City's legendary Santa Monica Pier. I guess it just wasn't in the budget.
Anyway, Dalton immediately begins cleaning up the Double Deuce, starting with the corrupt bouncer (played expertly by pro wrestler Terry Funk) and a bartender who's been skimming out of the cash register. This causes them to join forces with Brad Wesley (Gazzara), who practically owns the entire town. And he's also a completely corrupt monster, as individuals who own entire towns tend to be. Wesley sends his goons to rough Dalton up, and he ends up needing stitches. At the hospital, he meets his officially designated love interest in Dr. Elizabeth Clay (Lynch), who offers Dalton medical assistance, dry humor and gratuitous nudity.
Wesley calls Dalton in an attempt to make peace by buying him out, which is how Wesley solves all his problems. But Dalton knows Wesley just wants to use him as one of his thugs, so he turns him down. Wesley then turns his attention to Dalton's friends, prompting Dalton to bring in some backup, in the form of old buddy and fellow cooler Wade Garrett (Elliot). And then the movie really begins.
I don't think I'm overstating it when I say that this movie is ludicrous in every way possible. The story is completely unbelievable, the characters - while attempting to be deep - are just one-dimensional cliches, and they don't even bother to try to make Southern California look like Kansas City. However, this mess, with all it's bar fights, rock music, gratuitous nudity and multiple explosions is a very entertaining mess. It plays almost like a parody of action films, with every element and action trope turned up to eleven.
However, when we see Sam Elliot ride up on his Harley, look up at the sign and call that place "The Double Douche," he gives the movie something it didn't have before: credibility. Simply put, he makes this movie. Not only that, but he makes me wish this movie was about Wade instead of Dalton, as his character, and Sam Elliot's portrayal of that character - are superior is just about every way to Patrick Swayze's. Not to take anything away from the late Mr. Swayze, but I have a hard time believing this guy had been in that many fights, let alone won most of them (yeah, yeah, "Nobody ever wins in a fight."). I don't have any trouble believing Sam Elliot is a bouncer, because he looks and acts like one.
His presence in the film is a bit like imagining if John Wayne had been in Blazing Saddles. The difference is Blazing Saddles was meant to be funny. I don't think that's what Road House was going for, so I can't exactly called it a success. Well, that's not entirely true. It sought to be entertaining, and it certainly pulled that off. It's just it took a very roundabout way to be entertaining.
Directed by Rowdy Herrington
Starring: Patrick Swayze, Sam Elliot, Ben Gazzara, Kelly Lynch, Jeff Healey (and his band), Terry Funk, Kevin Tighe, "Sunshine" Parker (not making that up), John Doe (that either)
A few months ago, I reviewed a documentary called Best Worst Movie, which posed a question: What is it about bad movie that we love so much? While Best Worst Movie was about Troll 2 and its legion of devoted fans, I have to say that I have just watched a movie that, while reviled by many critics, is loved by millions of movie fans. And that film is Road House.
The story is pretty darned simple. Dalton (Swayze) is a bouncer who goes from town to town taking work in various dive bars around the country. One night, Frank Tilghman (Tighe) approaches Dalton and asks for his help in cleaning up his bar, the Double Deuce. Dalton asks for, what I'm guessing, is an astronomical fee for a bouncer, but Tilghman pays it anyway, and Dalton makes good on his word, picking up and moving to a small town just outside
Anyway, Dalton immediately begins cleaning up the Double Deuce, starting with the corrupt bouncer (played expertly by pro wrestler Terry Funk) and a bartender who's been skimming out of the cash register. This causes them to join forces with Brad Wesley (Gazzara), who practically owns the entire town. And he's also a completely corrupt monster, as individuals who own entire towns tend to be. Wesley sends his goons to rough Dalton up, and he ends up needing stitches. At the hospital, he meets his officially designated love interest in Dr. Elizabeth Clay (Lynch), who offers Dalton medical assistance, dry humor and gratuitous nudity.
Wesley calls Dalton in an attempt to make peace by buying him out, which is how Wesley solves all his problems. But Dalton knows Wesley just wants to use him as one of his thugs, so he turns him down. Wesley then turns his attention to Dalton's friends, prompting Dalton to bring in some backup, in the form of old buddy and fellow cooler Wade Garrett (Elliot). And then the movie really begins.
I don't think I'm overstating it when I say that this movie is ludicrous in every way possible. The story is completely unbelievable, the characters - while attempting to be deep - are just one-dimensional cliches, and they don't even bother to try to make Southern California look like Kansas City. However, this mess, with all it's bar fights, rock music, gratuitous nudity and multiple explosions is a very entertaining mess. It plays almost like a parody of action films, with every element and action trope turned up to eleven.
However, when we see Sam Elliot ride up on his Harley, look up at the sign and call that place "The Double Douche," he gives the movie something it didn't have before: credibility. Simply put, he makes this movie. Not only that, but he makes me wish this movie was about Wade instead of Dalton, as his character, and Sam Elliot's portrayal of that character - are superior is just about every way to Patrick Swayze's. Not to take anything away from the late Mr. Swayze, but I have a hard time believing this guy had been in that many fights, let alone won most of them (yeah, yeah, "Nobody ever wins in a fight."). I don't have any trouble believing Sam Elliot is a bouncer, because he looks and acts like one.
His presence in the film is a bit like imagining if John Wayne had been in Blazing Saddles. The difference is Blazing Saddles was meant to be funny. I don't think that's what Road House was going for, so I can't exactly called it a success. Well, that's not entirely true. It sought to be entertaining, and it certainly pulled that off. It's just it took a very roundabout way to be entertaining.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
We've hit a snag...
Basically, it's a financial snag. The remainder of the films I have to watch for my Oscar Challenge are still in theaters. And at a minimum of $8 per ticket multiplied by 4 films, comes out to $32. And times are so tight right now, that I simply can't afford to go to the movies four times this week. So it's looking like another challenge has beaten me.
Story of my life...
Story of my life...
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Day 80: If Only He Would Speak!
THE ARTIST (2011)
Directed by Michel Hazanavicius
Starring: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller, Joel Murray, Malcolm McDowell, Bill Fagerbakke
It would be easy to write off a (mostly) silent film made in 2011 as being nothing but a novelty, as if it were akin to Mel Brooks' 1976 silent movie called...well, Silent Movie. But The Artist is no spoof. This film is nothing less than a tribute to Hollywood's Golden Age.
George Valentin (Dujardin) is the biggest thing in Hollywoodland in 1927. One day, at the premiere of his latest swashbuckling adventure, he bumps into a young lady (and wannabe actress) named Peppy Miller (Bejo). George hams it up for the camera, giving Peppy an innocent peck on the cheek. Of course, this makes all the gossip rags, and everyone thinks something fishy's going on - especially his wife, Doris (Miller). George uses his winning personality and big toothy grin to smooth things over. But as George hits the set first thing Monday morning, he discovers that the extra he dances with in the film is none other than Peppy. George, obviously smitten, but still married, gives Peppy a few pointers and sends her on her way. Around that same time, his bosses introduce him to what they believe is the Next Big Thing: talking pictures. George thinks it's a novelty, but the studio brass think otherwise, and stop production on all silent films (including George's current production) and work only in sound. George is outraged and vows to complete the film himself as star, director, producer and writer. Unfortunately, the film tanks. George is broke, his wife divorces him and he moves into a tiny apartment with his faithful chauffeur Clifton (Cromwell). Meanwhile, Peppy Miller is almost as big as talking pictures themselves. As George's star fades, Peppy's does nothing but rise.
The advent of talking pictures - and the struggle of stars and studios alike to adapt to this new technology - is not a new subject. One of the most successful, of course, was Singin' in the Rain. But unlike that film, this one comes out at a time when the film industry is adjusting to the supposed death of physical film and the advent of digital film-making. There are several big-name holdouts who still cling to film (Spielberg, Scorsese, Tarantino), but the world is changing around them. Just recently, we may have experienced the final nail in the celluloid coffin with the bankruptcy of Kodak. Pretty soon, it's all going to be digital.
Was this film a sort of response to that? It sure seems like it, especially considering the manner in which the film was not only shot, but presented. First of all, it was shot on film, in the traditional 1.33:1 "Academy" aspect ratio - in other words, no widescreen. No zooms were used, as the technology didn't exist in 1927. The film was shot at 22 frames per second, so it would achieve that "sped up" look of a hand-cranked camera when sped up to the normal 24 frames per second. The film's soundtrack was played in mono (not stereo) from one speaker in the middle of the theater. All of this is may seem like boring technical babble, but it's not. The final result is the feel of watching an old silent movie in the 1920's. The only thing missing was the orchestra. And the hundreds upon hundreds of smokers. Maybe it's good that some things have changed.
All of this adds up to a great experience, to be sure. But as we learned from Avatar, that's only part of the equation. Without great performances and an endearing story, none of that technical stuff really matters. Thankfully, the story is very well told and the performances are amazing. It's certainly entertaining to see modern film actors - who have all be taught how to underplay their roles - suddenly gesticulating wildly and playing everything as big as possible, so as to be understood within the limitations of silent cinema.
And, to be honest, the film isn't entirely silent. There are a couple of key scenes in which sound plays a key role, but for the most part, you will be expected to pay attention to what's going on in front of you and - *gasp* - read a few inter-titles from time to time. That's a big thing to ask of the ADD generation. When I went to the cinema to watch the film, I was one of four people in a theater that sat 250. My spirits, which were lifted by an amazingly entertaining film with one of the best "Hollywood Endings" ever, suddenly fell when I noticed the 246 empty seats; and they sank even more when I realized that those other 246 people were probably having their senses assaulted a couple rooms over at The Phantom Menace: 3D, a movie that sucked the first time it came out in 2D. Now, I'm not trying to sound like a snob here, but I constantly hear people complain that movies these days are terrible. Really? Maybe we're just not looking in the right places. Maybe it's time for us to notice film-makers who are going off the beaten path and trying something new. And The Artist is a wonderful place to start.
Directed by Michel Hazanavicius
Starring: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller, Joel Murray, Malcolm McDowell, Bill Fagerbakke
It would be easy to write off a (mostly) silent film made in 2011 as being nothing but a novelty, as if it were akin to Mel Brooks' 1976 silent movie called...well, Silent Movie. But The Artist is no spoof. This film is nothing less than a tribute to Hollywood's Golden Age.
George Valentin (Dujardin) is the biggest thing in Hollywoodland in 1927. One day, at the premiere of his latest swashbuckling adventure, he bumps into a young lady (and wannabe actress) named Peppy Miller (Bejo). George hams it up for the camera, giving Peppy an innocent peck on the cheek. Of course, this makes all the gossip rags, and everyone thinks something fishy's going on - especially his wife, Doris (Miller). George uses his winning personality and big toothy grin to smooth things over. But as George hits the set first thing Monday morning, he discovers that the extra he dances with in the film is none other than Peppy. George, obviously smitten, but still married, gives Peppy a few pointers and sends her on her way. Around that same time, his bosses introduce him to what they believe is the Next Big Thing: talking pictures. George thinks it's a novelty, but the studio brass think otherwise, and stop production on all silent films (including George's current production) and work only in sound. George is outraged and vows to complete the film himself as star, director, producer and writer. Unfortunately, the film tanks. George is broke, his wife divorces him and he moves into a tiny apartment with his faithful chauffeur Clifton (Cromwell). Meanwhile, Peppy Miller is almost as big as talking pictures themselves. As George's star fades, Peppy's does nothing but rise.
The advent of talking pictures - and the struggle of stars and studios alike to adapt to this new technology - is not a new subject. One of the most successful, of course, was Singin' in the Rain. But unlike that film, this one comes out at a time when the film industry is adjusting to the supposed death of physical film and the advent of digital film-making. There are several big-name holdouts who still cling to film (Spielberg, Scorsese, Tarantino), but the world is changing around them. Just recently, we may have experienced the final nail in the celluloid coffin with the bankruptcy of Kodak. Pretty soon, it's all going to be digital.
Was this film a sort of response to that? It sure seems like it, especially considering the manner in which the film was not only shot, but presented. First of all, it was shot on film, in the traditional 1.33:1 "Academy" aspect ratio - in other words, no widescreen. No zooms were used, as the technology didn't exist in 1927. The film was shot at 22 frames per second, so it would achieve that "sped up" look of a hand-cranked camera when sped up to the normal 24 frames per second. The film's soundtrack was played in mono (not stereo) from one speaker in the middle of the theater. All of this is may seem like boring technical babble, but it's not. The final result is the feel of watching an old silent movie in the 1920's. The only thing missing was the orchestra. And the hundreds upon hundreds of smokers. Maybe it's good that some things have changed.
All of this adds up to a great experience, to be sure. But as we learned from Avatar, that's only part of the equation. Without great performances and an endearing story, none of that technical stuff really matters. Thankfully, the story is very well told and the performances are amazing. It's certainly entertaining to see modern film actors - who have all be taught how to underplay their roles - suddenly gesticulating wildly and playing everything as big as possible, so as to be understood within the limitations of silent cinema.
And, to be honest, the film isn't entirely silent. There are a couple of key scenes in which sound plays a key role, but for the most part, you will be expected to pay attention to what's going on in front of you and - *gasp* - read a few inter-titles from time to time. That's a big thing to ask of the ADD generation. When I went to the cinema to watch the film, I was one of four people in a theater that sat 250. My spirits, which were lifted by an amazingly entertaining film with one of the best "Hollywood Endings" ever, suddenly fell when I noticed the 246 empty seats; and they sank even more when I realized that those other 246 people were probably having their senses assaulted a couple rooms over at The Phantom Menace: 3D, a movie that sucked the first time it came out in 2D. Now, I'm not trying to sound like a snob here, but I constantly hear people complain that movies these days are terrible. Really? Maybe we're just not looking in the right places. Maybe it's time for us to notice film-makers who are going off the beaten path and trying something new. And The Artist is a wonderful place to start.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Day 79: No One Ever Asked Me What It Felt Like To Be Me
THE HELP (2011)
Directed by Tate Taylor
Starring: Viola Davis, Emma Stone, Bryce Dallas Howard, Octavia Spencer, Jessica Chastain, Ahna O'Rilley, Allison Janey, Cicely Tyson, Sissy Spacek, Mary Steenburgen, Chris Lowell
A lot has already been said - and will continue to be said - about The Help. Of all the Oscar nominees for Best Picture (that I've yet seen), this one has garnered some of the most divisive reviews. Some say it's a wonderful drama about the plight of black housemaids in the South against the backdrop of the Civil Rights movement. Others say it's a slick, Hollywood treatment that glosses over the big issues while perpetuating negative racial stereotypes. So who's right? Let's find out.
The story centers around a black housemaid named Aibileen (Davis), who has dedicated her life to raising the babies of privileged white women. Every well-to-do family in the South in the had "colored help" to do all the domestic work. The only difference between this and slavery was that the workers were paid (though as little as possible). Aibileen is kind, courteous and does her job well. The story also centers on Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan (Stone), a forward-thinking writer who notices the plight of the women who basically raised her and her upper-middle-class white bridge club friends. Skeeter originally plans to seek Aibileen's advice while she writes her domestic advice column, but the more she learns about Aibileen - and remembers about her own housemaid Constantine (Tyson) - she decides to write a book about them, and tell their story to the world. Rounding out the cast, we have Hilly Holbrook (Howard) and her housemaid Minny Jackson (Spencer). Hilly is just about the most racist person you've ever met, and she frames more than one housekeeper for theft, just so she could get rid of them. She even drafted a proposal that would require homes with "colored help" to have separate bathroom installed, bringing the Jim Crow laws into the home. Minny, who used to work for Hilly until she was fired (and takes some disgusting revenge), is loud, brash and takes no guff from anyone. And that's trouble for a black housemaid in Mississippi in the '60s. But a young outcast girl named Cecilia (Chastain) - who married into money - hires Minny, and is completely naive as to how proper white Southern girls are supposed to treat "the help."
There's a lot going on in this movie, but to make a long story short: Aibileen and Minny are mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore. They (reluctantly) agree to help Skeeter write her book, knowing that it could cost them their jobs, and even their lives, if they were found out.
This film touches on a lot of important issues about how whites treated blacks in the post-Civil War South. The status quo of "seperate but equal" was maintained through fear. Those who tried to change it were dealt with violently (such as the Freedom Riders in Montgomery, Alabama). But The Help merely touches on the broader issue of the Civil Rights movement - it's simply a backdrop behind which the main story takes place. The closest any of the character come to getting involved is agreeing to participate in Skeeter's tell-all book (which is published anonymously). There is a mention made of the Medgar Evers assassination, but that's about as far as it goes. This film is character-driven, and so that's where the focus remains, which is, in this case at least, the right thing to do. We've invested so much time and attention to the characters that to shift focus would be confusing.
So now let's focus on what divided the audience. To those in the "wonderful drama" camp, I would have to say I agree. I was reminded of the works of Douglas Sirk - particularly Imitation of Life. It is a film that takes us on an emotional roller coaster; it's dark, funny, serious, and light all at different times. But it never makes fun of its subject. That is treated with the utmost respect.
To those in the "negative stereotype" camp: I think you're overreacting. Yes, Aibileen has times when she speaks like Mammy from Gone With the Wind, but she is an uneducated black housemaid living in Mississippi in the 1960's. How would you expect her to talk? Actually, how she speaks is far less important than what she says. While it may bring to mind some painful memories, Aibileen's affirmation to the toddler she watches over - "You is kind. You is smart. You is important" - is so much more touching the way Viola Davis delivers the line than if it were "cleaned up" by the P.C. police. And if you're concentrating this much on how the characters speak, I think you've missed the point of this movie entirely.
Needless to say, this film is one that people are going to talk about for years to come. But those who demonize it as if it were Birth of a Nation should take a closer look at it. It is the story of a group of women who finally get a voice, and who finally get to tell their story at a time when it most needed to be told.
Directed by Tate Taylor
Starring: Viola Davis, Emma Stone, Bryce Dallas Howard, Octavia Spencer, Jessica Chastain, Ahna O'Rilley, Allison Janey, Cicely Tyson, Sissy Spacek, Mary Steenburgen, Chris Lowell
A lot has already been said - and will continue to be said - about The Help. Of all the Oscar nominees for Best Picture (that I've yet seen), this one has garnered some of the most divisive reviews. Some say it's a wonderful drama about the plight of black housemaids in the South against the backdrop of the Civil Rights movement. Others say it's a slick, Hollywood treatment that glosses over the big issues while perpetuating negative racial stereotypes. So who's right? Let's find out.
The story centers around a black housemaid named Aibileen (Davis), who has dedicated her life to raising the babies of privileged white women. Every well-to-do family in the South in the had "colored help" to do all the domestic work. The only difference between this and slavery was that the workers were paid (though as little as possible). Aibileen is kind, courteous and does her job well. The story also centers on Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan (Stone), a forward-thinking writer who notices the plight of the women who basically raised her and her upper-middle-class white bridge club friends. Skeeter originally plans to seek Aibileen's advice while she writes her domestic advice column, but the more she learns about Aibileen - and remembers about her own housemaid Constantine (Tyson) - she decides to write a book about them, and tell their story to the world. Rounding out the cast, we have Hilly Holbrook (Howard) and her housemaid Minny Jackson (Spencer). Hilly is just about the most racist person you've ever met, and she frames more than one housekeeper for theft, just so she could get rid of them. She even drafted a proposal that would require homes with "colored help" to have separate bathroom installed, bringing the Jim Crow laws into the home. Minny, who used to work for Hilly until she was fired (and takes some disgusting revenge), is loud, brash and takes no guff from anyone. And that's trouble for a black housemaid in Mississippi in the '60s. But a young outcast girl named Cecilia (Chastain) - who married into money - hires Minny, and is completely naive as to how proper white Southern girls are supposed to treat "the help."
There's a lot going on in this movie, but to make a long story short: Aibileen and Minny are mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore. They (reluctantly) agree to help Skeeter write her book, knowing that it could cost them their jobs, and even their lives, if they were found out.
This film touches on a lot of important issues about how whites treated blacks in the post-Civil War South. The status quo of "seperate but equal" was maintained through fear. Those who tried to change it were dealt with violently (such as the Freedom Riders in Montgomery, Alabama). But The Help merely touches on the broader issue of the Civil Rights movement - it's simply a backdrop behind which the main story takes place. The closest any of the character come to getting involved is agreeing to participate in Skeeter's tell-all book (which is published anonymously). There is a mention made of the Medgar Evers assassination, but that's about as far as it goes. This film is character-driven, and so that's where the focus remains, which is, in this case at least, the right thing to do. We've invested so much time and attention to the characters that to shift focus would be confusing.
So now let's focus on what divided the audience. To those in the "wonderful drama" camp, I would have to say I agree. I was reminded of the works of Douglas Sirk - particularly Imitation of Life. It is a film that takes us on an emotional roller coaster; it's dark, funny, serious, and light all at different times. But it never makes fun of its subject. That is treated with the utmost respect.
To those in the "negative stereotype" camp: I think you're overreacting. Yes, Aibileen has times when she speaks like Mammy from Gone With the Wind, but she is an uneducated black housemaid living in Mississippi in the 1960's. How would you expect her to talk? Actually, how she speaks is far less important than what she says. While it may bring to mind some painful memories, Aibileen's affirmation to the toddler she watches over - "You is kind. You is smart. You is important" - is so much more touching the way Viola Davis delivers the line than if it were "cleaned up" by the P.C. police. And if you're concentrating this much on how the characters speak, I think you've missed the point of this movie entirely.
Needless to say, this film is one that people are going to talk about for years to come. But those who demonize it as if it were Birth of a Nation should take a closer look at it. It is the story of a group of women who finally get a voice, and who finally get to tell their story at a time when it most needed to be told.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Day 78: Tell Us A Story From Before We Can Remember
THE TREE OF LIFE (2011)
Directed by Terrence Malick
Starring: Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, Tye Sheridan
Film criticism is usually based on snap judgments, as most critics are writing on a deadline. They can really only give first impressions. I, however, am only doing this because I feel like it. Therefore, I have a bit more time to think about the film before I write about it. And I needed that time.
Giving a synopsis of the plot may or may not help people to understand the film, but for the sake of completeness, here it goes:
Jack O'Brien (Penn) flashes back over his life growing up in Texas in the 1950's. He recalls the gentle treatment of his doting mother (Chastain) and his harsh, domineering father (Pitt). He remembers the rivalry between him and his younger brothers. He remembers his struggle with faith. He remembers openly rebelling against his parents, which disappointed his mother and angered his father. He remembers his father's disappointment with his own life choices, opting to work as an engineer, rather than pursue music for a living. As Jack remembers all of this, he eventually makes peace with his past.
That's the story. But that's not what the film is about.
Drawing inspiration from Koyaanisqatsi and 2001: A Space Odyssey, Terrence Malick offers an impressionistic portrait of a man (based on himself? Probably) struggling to come to terms with the questions that everyone asks themselves about life, death, the existence of God, faith, hatred, forgiveness, conflict and peace. And he does so not with a straightforward narrative, but with a view from the outside looking in. He backs up to look at the Big Picture, even opening with a verse straight out of the Book of Job. As if answering the question before we even ask, we see "Where were you when I laid the Earth's foundation?...while the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?" From there, we are taken to the deepest reaches of outer space. We go to the time of dinosaurs. We see all of history in a matter of minutes, but from there, we focus on this small town family, and on the trials and tribulations we all think are so important. Does God know or care about them? Does God even exist? These and other questions are touched upon.
However, unlike many films that ask the same questions, The Tree of Life doesn't attempt to answer them. In fact, Malick doesn't seem as interested in telling a story as he is in eliciting an emotional response. It plays like a symphony, with different movements, all as a part of something bigger. And just like classical music, your enjoyment of it is completely dependent upon the emotions you experience while watching.
This is not a traditional film, and therefore, it is not easy to say whether or not it was a good film in the traditional sense. Whether or not you enjoy it will depend entirely upon what kind of mood you're in when you watch it. However, there are some concrete things that can be said about it. For one thing, the cinematography is amazing. In fact, it's some of the best I've ever seen. Every single frame of this film was a work of art. The visual effects during the "Space Opera" sequences are absolutely breathtaking. They were done by Douglas Trumbull, who did the effects for 2001 and Blade Runner using all practical effects and zero CGI. However, those who go into this movie looking for a knock-out performance from either Brad Pitt or Sean Penn might be disappointed. Why they were cast is anyone's guess. Really, any actor could have played these parts. I particularly wondered why Sean Penn was cast, as he's hardly in the film at all. And when he's on screen, he speaks so softly, I could hardly hear him. It's kind of a waste of talent, if you ask me.
A movie like this is bound to polarize people; and it has, receiving both boos and cheers (and ultimately, the Palm D'or) at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival. Having watched it, I can see both sides of the argument, and I agree with both of them. Yes, this film is a brilliant work of art. Yes, this film is strange and almost inaccessible. But the best thing is to watch this film with absolutely zero expectations, either good or bad. It's hard to do, but it's the best way to go about it. Whatever your preconceived notions are, they will change by the time the end credits roll.
Directed by Terrence Malick
Starring: Brad Pitt, Sean Penn, Jessica Chastain, Hunter McCracken, Laramie Eppler, Tye Sheridan
Film criticism is usually based on snap judgments, as most critics are writing on a deadline. They can really only give first impressions. I, however, am only doing this because I feel like it. Therefore, I have a bit more time to think about the film before I write about it. And I needed that time.
Giving a synopsis of the plot may or may not help people to understand the film, but for the sake of completeness, here it goes:
Jack O'Brien (Penn) flashes back over his life growing up in Texas in the 1950's. He recalls the gentle treatment of his doting mother (Chastain) and his harsh, domineering father (Pitt). He remembers the rivalry between him and his younger brothers. He remembers his struggle with faith. He remembers openly rebelling against his parents, which disappointed his mother and angered his father. He remembers his father's disappointment with his own life choices, opting to work as an engineer, rather than pursue music for a living. As Jack remembers all of this, he eventually makes peace with his past.
That's the story. But that's not what the film is about.
Drawing inspiration from Koyaanisqatsi and 2001: A Space Odyssey, Terrence Malick offers an impressionistic portrait of a man (based on himself? Probably) struggling to come to terms with the questions that everyone asks themselves about life, death, the existence of God, faith, hatred, forgiveness, conflict and peace. And he does so not with a straightforward narrative, but with a view from the outside looking in. He backs up to look at the Big Picture, even opening with a verse straight out of the Book of Job. As if answering the question before we even ask, we see "Where were you when I laid the Earth's foundation?...while the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy?" From there, we are taken to the deepest reaches of outer space. We go to the time of dinosaurs. We see all of history in a matter of minutes, but from there, we focus on this small town family, and on the trials and tribulations we all think are so important. Does God know or care about them? Does God even exist? These and other questions are touched upon.
However, unlike many films that ask the same questions, The Tree of Life doesn't attempt to answer them. In fact, Malick doesn't seem as interested in telling a story as he is in eliciting an emotional response. It plays like a symphony, with different movements, all as a part of something bigger. And just like classical music, your enjoyment of it is completely dependent upon the emotions you experience while watching.
This is not a traditional film, and therefore, it is not easy to say whether or not it was a good film in the traditional sense. Whether or not you enjoy it will depend entirely upon what kind of mood you're in when you watch it. However, there are some concrete things that can be said about it. For one thing, the cinematography is amazing. In fact, it's some of the best I've ever seen. Every single frame of this film was a work of art. The visual effects during the "Space Opera" sequences are absolutely breathtaking. They were done by Douglas Trumbull, who did the effects for 2001 and Blade Runner using all practical effects and zero CGI. However, those who go into this movie looking for a knock-out performance from either Brad Pitt or Sean Penn might be disappointed. Why they were cast is anyone's guess. Really, any actor could have played these parts. I particularly wondered why Sean Penn was cast, as he's hardly in the film at all. And when he's on screen, he speaks so softly, I could hardly hear him. It's kind of a waste of talent, if you ask me.
A movie like this is bound to polarize people; and it has, receiving both boos and cheers (and ultimately, the Palm D'or) at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival. Having watched it, I can see both sides of the argument, and I agree with both of them. Yes, this film is a brilliant work of art. Yes, this film is strange and almost inaccessible. But the best thing is to watch this film with absolutely zero expectations, either good or bad. It's hard to do, but it's the best way to go about it. Whatever your preconceived notions are, they will change by the time the end credits roll.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Day 77: Nostalgia Is Denial
MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (2011)
Directed by Woody Allen
Starring: Owen Wilson, Marion Cotillard, Rachel McAdams, Corey Stoll, Alison Pill, Tom Hiddleston, Kathy Bates, Kurt Fuller, Mimi Kennedy
Have you ever been stuck at a party, politely sipping a cocktail, while all around you, people you didn't know go on and on about subjects of little to no interest to you? You want to get away and ditch your cranberry apple-tini for a cold beer and find somebody to talk with about football, but you can't because, for some reason or another, you're stuck there, listening to a bunch of pretentious windbags go on and on about things you barely remember studying in college. That's what it was like sitting through this movie.
The story is simple enough. A writer named Gil (Wilson) and his girlfriend Inez (McAdams) are about to be married. They are on vacation with Inez' parents (Fuller and Kennedy) in Paris, a city Gil had visited many years earlier and is still enamored with. But Inez's friends rub Gil the wrong way, so he goes for a walk through Paris at night. When he gets lost, the clock strikes midnight, and a car pulls up, offering to give him a ride. Reluctantly Gil gets in, and they arrive a party. The strange thing is, everyone is dressed like it's 1927. What's more, a woman approaches him and introduces herself as Zelda Fitzgerald (Pill). He is then introduced to her husband, Scott (Hiddleston). Later on, he goes on to meet all his literary and artistic heroes, including Ernest Hemingway (Stoll) who agrees to show Gil's novel-in-progress to Gertrude Stein (Bates). While Stein and Picasso argue over the merit of the artists latest painting, Gil meets Adriana (Cotillard) and is immediately taken with her. Gil loves this idealized world so much, that he goes back every single night, leading his fiancee to believe that he's fooling around.
All of this sounds pleasant enough, but the story is brought to a screeching halt, as Allen feels the need to pepper his script with arguments and discussions about the merits of certain artists and writers. Maybe I'm just one of the ignorant, unwashed masses, but all of this art-speak and psychobabble went right over my head. In fact, it went so far over my head, that I got bored. The film is only 94 minutes long, but it felt like an eternity. Woody Allen seems to be only capable of writing one type of protagonist, which is always a caricature of himself. This time, Allen stays behind the camera, but Owen Wilson takes up the mantle of the neurotic writer wanting to see his art make a difference. And Wilson is actually rather convincing at playing a Woody Allen type - maybe even more so than Woody Allen.
In fact, I was so bored that, at one point, I was tempted to turn off the sound and just bask in the wonderful images of Paris that this film offers. The cinematography is absolutely amazing and the production and set designs are wonderful to behold. Also, it was a treat to see all of the famous writers and artists from the 1920's come to life. Of particular note were Corey Stoll as Hemingway, Kathy Bates as Gertrude Stein and a very vivacious Adrian Brody as Salvador Dali. We in the 21st Century will never know what these people were really like, but these interpretations were pretty close to the ones I had in my head.
This film basically boils down to being a self-insertion fantasy with some really great movie making skill behind it. But it gets bogged down in it's own self-importance. Allen seems to be more concerned with impressing the audience with his encyclopedic knowledge of Paris in the 1920s than with his skill as a film-maker. And that's sad, because Woody Allen has been making movies for over 40 years. We know how smart he is and how creative he can be. But we rarely see any real cinematic accomplishments from him. And here, he finally excels at being cinematic. But unfortunately, those accomplishments are overshadowed by his own ego.
So while this was a fine film to look at, it wasn't all that pleasant to sit through. I felt like it was made for a very select audience, and I wasn't part of it. But if lengthy discussions on early 20th Century art and literature are your thing, then this is the film for you.
Directed by Woody Allen
Starring: Owen Wilson, Marion Cotillard, Rachel McAdams, Corey Stoll, Alison Pill, Tom Hiddleston, Kathy Bates, Kurt Fuller, Mimi Kennedy
Have you ever been stuck at a party, politely sipping a cocktail, while all around you, people you didn't know go on and on about subjects of little to no interest to you? You want to get away and ditch your cranberry apple-tini for a cold beer and find somebody to talk with about football, but you can't because, for some reason or another, you're stuck there, listening to a bunch of pretentious windbags go on and on about things you barely remember studying in college. That's what it was like sitting through this movie.
The story is simple enough. A writer named Gil (Wilson) and his girlfriend Inez (McAdams) are about to be married. They are on vacation with Inez' parents (Fuller and Kennedy) in Paris, a city Gil had visited many years earlier and is still enamored with. But Inez's friends rub Gil the wrong way, so he goes for a walk through Paris at night. When he gets lost, the clock strikes midnight, and a car pulls up, offering to give him a ride. Reluctantly Gil gets in, and they arrive a party. The strange thing is, everyone is dressed like it's 1927. What's more, a woman approaches him and introduces herself as Zelda Fitzgerald (Pill). He is then introduced to her husband, Scott (Hiddleston). Later on, he goes on to meet all his literary and artistic heroes, including Ernest Hemingway (Stoll) who agrees to show Gil's novel-in-progress to Gertrude Stein (Bates). While Stein and Picasso argue over the merit of the artists latest painting, Gil meets Adriana (Cotillard) and is immediately taken with her. Gil loves this idealized world so much, that he goes back every single night, leading his fiancee to believe that he's fooling around.
All of this sounds pleasant enough, but the story is brought to a screeching halt, as Allen feels the need to pepper his script with arguments and discussions about the merits of certain artists and writers. Maybe I'm just one of the ignorant, unwashed masses, but all of this art-speak and psychobabble went right over my head. In fact, it went so far over my head, that I got bored. The film is only 94 minutes long, but it felt like an eternity. Woody Allen seems to be only capable of writing one type of protagonist, which is always a caricature of himself. This time, Allen stays behind the camera, but Owen Wilson takes up the mantle of the neurotic writer wanting to see his art make a difference. And Wilson is actually rather convincing at playing a Woody Allen type - maybe even more so than Woody Allen.
In fact, I was so bored that, at one point, I was tempted to turn off the sound and just bask in the wonderful images of Paris that this film offers. The cinematography is absolutely amazing and the production and set designs are wonderful to behold. Also, it was a treat to see all of the famous writers and artists from the 1920's come to life. Of particular note were Corey Stoll as Hemingway, Kathy Bates as Gertrude Stein and a very vivacious Adrian Brody as Salvador Dali. We in the 21st Century will never know what these people were really like, but these interpretations were pretty close to the ones I had in my head.
This film basically boils down to being a self-insertion fantasy with some really great movie making skill behind it. But it gets bogged down in it's own self-importance. Allen seems to be more concerned with impressing the audience with his encyclopedic knowledge of Paris in the 1920s than with his skill as a film-maker. And that's sad, because Woody Allen has been making movies for over 40 years. We know how smart he is and how creative he can be. But we rarely see any real cinematic accomplishments from him. And here, he finally excels at being cinematic. But unfortunately, those accomplishments are overshadowed by his own ego.
So while this was a fine film to look at, it wasn't all that pleasant to sit through. I felt like it was made for a very select audience, and I wasn't part of it. But if lengthy discussions on early 20th Century art and literature are your thing, then this is the film for you.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Day 76: How Can You Not Get Romantic About Baseball?
MONEYBALL (2011)
Directed by Bennett Miller
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Wright, Kerris Dorsey, Chris Pratt, Stephen Bishop, Brent Jennings, Nick Porrazzo
I'll be honest, folks. I was going to start this review with a lengthy and detailed history of the Oakland Athletics, complete with footnotes, annotations and a video clip or two. Problem is, I'm not much of a baseball historian (not for the A's, anyway). Besides, this isn't a baseball blog. If it were, it would be full of lamentations and very harsh language, as I am a Cubs fan.
But on to the movie...
Moneyball differs from most baseball movies in that it doesn't necessarily focus on the players. Instead, our main man is Oakland A's General Manager Billy Beane (Pitt), a former hot-prospect-turned-Major-League-bust-turned-scout-turned-executive. He's coming off an impressive year that ended when the A's dropped American League Divisional Series to the Yankees, three games to two. On top of that, he's losing Johnny Damon, Jason Giambi and Jason Isringhausen. He and the brass try to figure out a way to rebuild and move on, but Billy insists they can't build a winning team on Oakland's meager budget. While on a trip to Cleveland to try to strike a deal for some unwanted players and extra cash, he meets a young man named Peter Brand (Hill), who the Indians brass always consult before saying yes or no to a trade. None of Beane's deals go through, so he approaches Brand and asks what he know that nobody else seems to know. Bean's philosophy is not one of on-field fundamentals, but of numbers. He places a high stake on a player's On-Base Percentage, saying that that the players who get on base the most (by hit, walk, or even hit by pitch - doesn't matter) are the key to winning games. Billy sees this as an opportunity to get some players on the cheap while bucking the system that baseball is built on. Needless to say, this doesn't sit well with his scouts or the team's manager, Art Howe (Hoffman). According to them, baseball is all about the fundamentals and intangibles. Billy insists it's all a numbers game. The two sides butt heads, and the A's fall to a losing record. But things start to turn around once the the two warring factions realize that both aspects of the game can be melded together.
It's risky to take something as beloved the Baseball Movie, and turn the attention from the players to the management. In other films, they're portrayed as uncaring monsters at worst and exposition-spouting caricatures at best. Here, we get a more realistic look inside the offices of Major League Baseball, and at a time when we see the game changing. It would be easy for the film to get bogged down in the "sabermetrics" (the statistical analysis of baseball that was pioneered with this team), but instead, we are shown what really goes into making a winning team. It's not all numbers, but then again, it's not all about the gameplay. Baseball is a game where even the best team can hit a slump and go from the top to the bottom of the standings in a month. But even the most unlikely team can build a streak that propels them to the top, as the Athletics did in 2002. This film shows us that the game is best played when these two schools of thought meet in the middle, one adjusting for the other as the situation warrants.
But again, this isn't a baseball blog, it's a movie blog. And this is one very well put-together movie. Director Bennett Miller mixes a cinema verite style with actual game footage for a very authentic feel, but he also moves more into the cinematic realm with several stylized slow-motion sequences during a key game against the Kansas City Royals. In one film, Miller shows us that he's capable of varying styles - a smart move when it's only your third feature.
Brad Pitt is pretty engrossing as Billy Beane. Earlier in the film, he reminded me very much of Jesse Eisenberg's portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network. The major difference between the two is that Beane ends up being a rather likable character, with a charming daughter (Dorsey) who he tries to see as often as he can. While these scenes aren't entirely necessary, they do give Billy a bit more of an emotional depth I suspect he wouldn't have had without them. Jonah Hill, usually content to play for laughs in gross-out comedies like Superbad, plays Brand as a low-key number cruncher with a passionate love for baseball. Philip Seymour Hoffman is equally good as A's manager Art Howe, who just wants to manage the team he's given without asking too many questions. Many of the film's scenes were shot in a very Robert Altman-esque style, with theatrical staging and overlapping dialogue, and it is an environment where an actor can get lost in a character. And in this case, I'm glad that happened. I'm glad that I saw Billy Beane and not Brad Pitt.
As I read back over this before hitting the "Publish" button, I realize that I, too, kind of dote about our National Pastime. It's good to know that in this age of statistical number crunching and figuring out a player's worth based on Slugging Percentage, WHIPs, ERAs and other various acronyms, we can still get excited about simply going to the ballpark to watch a game.
Directed by Bennett Miller
Starring: Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Wright, Kerris Dorsey, Chris Pratt, Stephen Bishop, Brent Jennings, Nick Porrazzo
I'll be honest, folks. I was going to start this review with a lengthy and detailed history of the Oakland Athletics, complete with footnotes, annotations and a video clip or two. Problem is, I'm not much of a baseball historian (not for the A's, anyway). Besides, this isn't a baseball blog. If it were, it would be full of lamentations and very harsh language, as I am a Cubs fan.
But on to the movie...
Moneyball differs from most baseball movies in that it doesn't necessarily focus on the players. Instead, our main man is Oakland A's General Manager Billy Beane (Pitt), a former hot-prospect-turned-Major-League-bust-turned-scout-turned-executive. He's coming off an impressive year that ended when the A's dropped American League Divisional Series to the Yankees, three games to two. On top of that, he's losing Johnny Damon, Jason Giambi and Jason Isringhausen. He and the brass try to figure out a way to rebuild and move on, but Billy insists they can't build a winning team on Oakland's meager budget. While on a trip to Cleveland to try to strike a deal for some unwanted players and extra cash, he meets a young man named Peter Brand (Hill), who the Indians brass always consult before saying yes or no to a trade. None of Beane's deals go through, so he approaches Brand and asks what he know that nobody else seems to know. Bean's philosophy is not one of on-field fundamentals, but of numbers. He places a high stake on a player's On-Base Percentage, saying that that the players who get on base the most (by hit, walk, or even hit by pitch - doesn't matter) are the key to winning games. Billy sees this as an opportunity to get some players on the cheap while bucking the system that baseball is built on. Needless to say, this doesn't sit well with his scouts or the team's manager, Art Howe (Hoffman). According to them, baseball is all about the fundamentals and intangibles. Billy insists it's all a numbers game. The two sides butt heads, and the A's fall to a losing record. But things start to turn around once the the two warring factions realize that both aspects of the game can be melded together.
It's risky to take something as beloved the Baseball Movie, and turn the attention from the players to the management. In other films, they're portrayed as uncaring monsters at worst and exposition-spouting caricatures at best. Here, we get a more realistic look inside the offices of Major League Baseball, and at a time when we see the game changing. It would be easy for the film to get bogged down in the "sabermetrics" (the statistical analysis of baseball that was pioneered with this team), but instead, we are shown what really goes into making a winning team. It's not all numbers, but then again, it's not all about the gameplay. Baseball is a game where even the best team can hit a slump and go from the top to the bottom of the standings in a month. But even the most unlikely team can build a streak that propels them to the top, as the Athletics did in 2002. This film shows us that the game is best played when these two schools of thought meet in the middle, one adjusting for the other as the situation warrants.
But again, this isn't a baseball blog, it's a movie blog. And this is one very well put-together movie. Director Bennett Miller mixes a cinema verite style with actual game footage for a very authentic feel, but he also moves more into the cinematic realm with several stylized slow-motion sequences during a key game against the Kansas City Royals. In one film, Miller shows us that he's capable of varying styles - a smart move when it's only your third feature.
Brad Pitt is pretty engrossing as Billy Beane. Earlier in the film, he reminded me very much of Jesse Eisenberg's portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network. The major difference between the two is that Beane ends up being a rather likable character, with a charming daughter (Dorsey) who he tries to see as often as he can. While these scenes aren't entirely necessary, they do give Billy a bit more of an emotional depth I suspect he wouldn't have had without them. Jonah Hill, usually content to play for laughs in gross-out comedies like Superbad, plays Brand as a low-key number cruncher with a passionate love for baseball. Philip Seymour Hoffman is equally good as A's manager Art Howe, who just wants to manage the team he's given without asking too many questions. Many of the film's scenes were shot in a very Robert Altman-esque style, with theatrical staging and overlapping dialogue, and it is an environment where an actor can get lost in a character. And in this case, I'm glad that happened. I'm glad that I saw Billy Beane and not Brad Pitt.
As I read back over this before hitting the "Publish" button, I realize that I, too, kind of dote about our National Pastime. It's good to know that in this age of statistical number crunching and figuring out a player's worth based on Slugging Percentage, WHIPs, ERAs and other various acronyms, we can still get excited about simply going to the ballpark to watch a game.
It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year...
So another long, self-inflicted hiatus comes to an end. And just in time for Oscar season! Last year, prior to the awards ceremony, I had seen only a handful of the ten Best Picture nominees, so I wasn't really in any position to offer my opinion on which one I thought should have won.
This year, I aim to change that.
This year, due to some strange, nebulous rule changes at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the number of Best Picture nominees has been determined to be at least five, but no more than ten films. Because of that, our final tally is nine (which they probably did just to make sure one of those animated films didn't get a nod. But that's a rant for another time). They are:
Moneyball
The Help
The Tree of Life
War Horse
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
The Artist
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Descendants
My goal is to watch them all before the ceremony on February 26th. Can I do it? Well...my original goal here was to watch 100 movie in 100 days. Then it became 100 films in a year. Due to Real Life happening (as Real Life tends to do), I didn't meet either of these goals. My track record isn't very good when it comes to meeting deadlines. But let's just take it one day at a time and see what happens.
This year, I aim to change that.
This year, due to some strange, nebulous rule changes at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the number of Best Picture nominees has been determined to be at least five, but no more than ten films. Because of that, our final tally is nine (which they probably did just to make sure one of those animated films didn't get a nod. But that's a rant for another time). They are:
War Horse
Hugo
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Descendants
My goal is to watch them all before the ceremony on February 26th. Can I do it? Well...my original goal here was to watch 100 movie in 100 days. Then it became 100 films in a year. Due to Real Life happening (as Real Life tends to do), I didn't meet either of these goals. My track record isn't very good when it comes to meeting deadlines. But let's just take it one day at a time and see what happens.
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