SPIRITED AWAY (2001)
Directed by Hayao Miyazaki
Starring the (English) voices of: Daveigh Chase, Suzanne Pleshette, Jason Marsden, Susan Egan, David Ogden Stiers, Lauren Holly, Michael Chiklis, John Ratzenberger, Tara Strong
I've mentioned before how much I dislike it when people hype a movie so much that my expectations of it can't possibly live up to the film itself. Well, the hype was astronomically high for Spirited Away, the most praised film of famed Japanese animation director Hayao Miyazaki. But this time around, I just popped the movie into my DVD player and said, "Forget with all the hype. Let it speak for itself." And I'm glad I did. I think I enjoyed it better.
It's films like this that I regret not seeing on the Big Screen when I had the chance. I would have even settled for someone's home theater system, because my tiny little portable DVD player just didn't do this film justice. The scope of the film is so immense, the world so vast and the animation so exquisite that it demands to be seen on the largest screen you can find.
The story is complex, as well. After her parents are turned into pigs, a spoiled, bratty young girl named Chihiro sets off to find them. But before she can, she stumbles upon an old-fashioned Japanese bath house that turns out to be a sauna for the spirits. And in Japanese mythology, there are a ton of different spirits, so things are pretty busy. Soon, this whiny little kid, who never had to work a day in her life, is put to work cleaning up after the many strange nether-beings who patronize the house. And some of them are pretty disgusting - particularly the Stink Demon. Chihiro adjusts as best she can with the help of her co-worker Lin and a strange boy named Haku, who is rumored to be the henchman for the wicked Yubaba, who runs the house. But things get even stranger with the arrival of the mysterious "No-Face."
It can be daunting for American viewers to get through all the Japanese mythology, strange (and sometimes disgusting) creatures and somewhat graphic violence of this film. But I think this film has a lot more guts than most animated films released in the States. Here, animation is more or less kid stuff, with few exceptions. But it was one of American animation's leading figures - Pixar's John Lasseter - who was responsible for bringing this film to America. And when I think about the films that American animation companies have released since - The Incredibles, Kung-Fu Panda, Up and How to Train your Dragon, I can't help but think that this film sort of spurred them on to creates something a bit more mature. And by "mature," I don't mean bathroom humor and gratuitous swearing. That's about as immature as you can get. I'm talking about films that aren't afraid to tackle subjects animated films considered verboten even ten years ago. In the first ten minutes of Up, we deal with love, marriage and death. If you ever get the chance to build a time machine, go back to Disney in 1995 or so and try pitching that.
Spirited Away is quite the emotional ride. All movies are, in one way or another, about change. The change we see in Chihiro from the beginning of this film to the end is also a change we can feel. The world around her is so engrossing that the audience is sucked into it as well. We are along for the ride. Not only is this ride incredible, but it offers an awesome view.
Just make sure you watch it on a big screen. You'll be glad you did.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Day 21: Dalmatian Plantation
ONE HUNDRED AND ONE DALMATIANS (1961)
Directed by Wolfgang Reitherman, Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske
Starring the voices of: Rod Taylor, Ben Wright, Lisa Davis, Betty Lou Gerson, Cate Bauer, J. Pat O'Malley
Everyone knows the Disney formula - princess is in trouble, dashing white knight comes to the rescue, many happy songs throughout. Stylistically, the animation is lush and vibrant, with many references to renaissance art. It's a formula that did well for them. Until Sleeping Beauty bombed at the box office.
So their next feature One Hundred and One Dalmatians marks a very visible departure from the formula of old. Here, we have a style that is much more contemporary, a pace that is more deliberate, and a story that is decidedly darker in tone than previous Disney fairy tales. And it all works to the films advantage.
The film wastes no time in laying this new style on us, as we have probably the most elaborate and energetic title sequences I've ever seen. Gone are the lush, sweeping orchestrations and in their place is a jazzy new score, as the "dot" theme is used over and over. The animators had a field day making the credits jump all across the screen. Right away, we get the sense that this is something new and exciting. As we begin the film, however, the pace slows down, but never drags. Everything moves along just as it should.
The animation is first rate. Just think - these were the days before computers, so not only did the picture have to be drawn by hand, but they also had to animate all those spots. On 101 dogs. In fact, a separate team of animators was brought in just for that reason. Things were sped along by the new Xerox process - which painted the animation cels via photocopier instead of by hand. The only drawback was that the lines around the characters became darker and sketchier, a big problem in later films, especially Robin Hood and The Jungle Book. The process had evolved and softened by the time they got to The Rescuers. But here, there's very little sketchiness, and the end result is a much cleaner look.
Of course, it would be impossible to talk about this film with talking at length about Cruella DeVil, one of the strangest and most charasmatic Disney villains of all time. She works so well for a number of reasons: the excellent animation of Marc Davis, the cackling voice of Betty Lou Gerson. But the thing about her is that she's so likeably evil. She repels and attracts the viewer at the same time. But she's no comic foil; she means business. Her cronies, Jasper and Horace, are the ones who provide the laughs here, but they too have a genuine mean streak. And none of them mince words about their intentions. They're going to kill those puppies, and they're not afraid to say so.
This tone of menace and genuine peril actually helps the film, though it doesn't wallow in it. Things are kept light enough to entertain kids, but it's the earliest animated film I've seen (and there's a lot I haven't seen) that tries to entertain the adults as well. Also, it's not a musical. Oh sure, there are two pretty decent songs (three, if you count the Kanine Krunchies jingle), but they don't move the plot along. Story and execution are the name of the game here. And both are nearly flawless.
Directed by Wolfgang Reitherman, Clyde Geronimi, Hamilton Luske
Starring the voices of: Rod Taylor, Ben Wright, Lisa Davis, Betty Lou Gerson, Cate Bauer, J. Pat O'Malley
Everyone knows the Disney formula - princess is in trouble, dashing white knight comes to the rescue, many happy songs throughout. Stylistically, the animation is lush and vibrant, with many references to renaissance art. It's a formula that did well for them. Until Sleeping Beauty bombed at the box office.
So their next feature One Hundred and One Dalmatians marks a very visible departure from the formula of old. Here, we have a style that is much more contemporary, a pace that is more deliberate, and a story that is decidedly darker in tone than previous Disney fairy tales. And it all works to the films advantage.
The film wastes no time in laying this new style on us, as we have probably the most elaborate and energetic title sequences I've ever seen. Gone are the lush, sweeping orchestrations and in their place is a jazzy new score, as the "dot" theme is used over and over. The animators had a field day making the credits jump all across the screen. Right away, we get the sense that this is something new and exciting. As we begin the film, however, the pace slows down, but never drags. Everything moves along just as it should.
The animation is first rate. Just think - these were the days before computers, so not only did the picture have to be drawn by hand, but they also had to animate all those spots. On 101 dogs. In fact, a separate team of animators was brought in just for that reason. Things were sped along by the new Xerox process - which painted the animation cels via photocopier instead of by hand. The only drawback was that the lines around the characters became darker and sketchier, a big problem in later films, especially Robin Hood and The Jungle Book. The process had evolved and softened by the time they got to The Rescuers. But here, there's very little sketchiness, and the end result is a much cleaner look.
Of course, it would be impossible to talk about this film with talking at length about Cruella DeVil, one of the strangest and most charasmatic Disney villains of all time. She works so well for a number of reasons: the excellent animation of Marc Davis, the cackling voice of Betty Lou Gerson. But the thing about her is that she's so likeably evil. She repels and attracts the viewer at the same time. But she's no comic foil; she means business. Her cronies, Jasper and Horace, are the ones who provide the laughs here, but they too have a genuine mean streak. And none of them mince words about their intentions. They're going to kill those puppies, and they're not afraid to say so.
This tone of menace and genuine peril actually helps the film, though it doesn't wallow in it. Things are kept light enough to entertain kids, but it's the earliest animated film I've seen (and there's a lot I haven't seen) that tries to entertain the adults as well. Also, it's not a musical. Oh sure, there are two pretty decent songs (three, if you count the Kanine Krunchies jingle), but they don't move the plot along. Story and execution are the name of the game here. And both are nearly flawless.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Day 20: I Am Done With Man
MARY SHELLEY’S FRANKENSTEIN (1994)
Directed by Kenneth Branagh
Starring: Robert De Niro, Kenneth Branagh, Tom Hulce, Helena Bonham Carter, Ian Holm, Aidan Quinn, John Cleese
If I had to choose one word to describe this movie, it would be “big.” Everything in this movie is big; the acting, the writing, the direction (I think this is the first movie I’ve ever seen with a love scene shot entirely with a Steadicam). The problem is, it’s too big. In fact, Branagh seems so preoccupied with making everything as big as possible, that he forgets the important little things, such as subtlety, nuance and most importantly, logic. Actually, now that I think about it, “overblown” is probably a better word.
In the first ten minutes, a ship bound for the North Pole hits an iceberg. Already, the logic is faulty, because instead of sinking like a rock, the ship simply sits there as if it’s run aground. On this ice flow, the captain (Quinn) comes across a nearly frozen Victor Frankenstein (Branagh). Victor starts to tell his rather unbelievable story and we flash back to Geneva, many years earlier. As a boy, his father (Holm) takes in an orphaned girl, Elizabeth. There is an instant connection between them, and as they grow, they fall in love. Which is odd, considering they’re technically brother and sister. They’re step-siblings, yes, but it’s still a bit upsetting. After the death of his mother, Victor vows to overcome death my medical and scientific means.
All of this I just described could be a movie in itself, and yet it takes up just about ten minutes of screen time. I give them points for moving the plot forward at a brisk pace, but there isn’t much in the way of character development. It’s as if Branagh simply read the Cliffs Notes for the novel and decided to make a movie about it.
After Victor meets the mysterious Professor Waldman (Cleese), he begins his quest to build a man from the body parts of dead criminals and wanderers. And we all know where this goes from here. He reanimates the corpse, it goes crazy, kills a bunch of people, demands a mate, doesn’t get it and vows to pursue Victor to the ends of the earth. Which is how he and the Creature end up in the frozen North Sea.
Robert De Niro plays the Creature this time out and, considering the ridiculous script, he does a pretty decent job of making it believable. Unlike other Frankenstein films, this creature, as in the novel, is extremely verbose and well-read. This has advantages and disadvantages. The advantage is that there is one scene (probably the best one in the film) where the Creature confronts Victor. He is the embodiment of Victor’s madness, and as such, has many questions that Victor simply cannot answer. The disadvantage is that we sometimes here a distinct New York accent coming out of this supposedly European zombie.
Everything in this movie is overdone. The camera never sits still – there are several scenes that play out in 360-degree Steadicam, and the actors perform as if they’re on the stage. Stage acting is a completely different animal than screen acting. On stage, the closest person to you is about thirty feet away, so projection and movement have to be big in order to be seen. In a film, the camera is right there so there’s no need for any stage theatrics. It makes you look like you’re over-acting. And everyone (except De Niro) is overacting here.
Kenneth Branagh is a much better director than this. His adaptations of Shakespeare are among the best ever made (his four-hour production of Hamlet is especially amazing). But Frankenstein is a blotch on his otherwise brilliant record. It’s campy, overdone and unbelievable. It belongs dead.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Day 19: I'm Not Afraid of Death, But I Am Afraid of Murder
THE CONVERSATION (1974)
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Frederic Forrest, Cindy Williams, Harrison Ford, Allen Garfield
When you see a character on screen, and they protray paranoia in a believeable way, that's good acting.
When you're watching the same scene and you can feel the paranoia, that's good directing.
Made between the two Godfather films, The Conversation was another exhibit in the case that, in the 1970's, Francis Ford Coppola could do no wrong. It is a perfectly constructed film with a heavy dose of Hitchcock-ian suspense, but with his own personal twist on it.
Gene Hackman plays Harry Caul, a surveillence man hired to record a conversation between a man and a woman. And he is the best there is; or so he thinks. A deeply secretive man, Harry tells no personal details to his co-worker Stan (Cazale), to his girlfriend or anybody but his priest. Hackman plays the role to perfection, starting out first as a rigid, humorless man, then letting intense paranoia bubble to the surface when he finds out that he is being beaten at his own game. Harrison Ford is especially creepy as Martin Stett, a mysterious assistant for the director who hires Caul. Ford says little in the film, but everything he says has weight and menace behind it. Allen Garfiled plays rival surveillence man Bernie Moran, whose diminutive size belies his more diabolical side. The scenes beteween Hackman and Garfield are when the paranoia starts to really surface, as Moran shows Caul that even he can be bugged.
The film relies heavily on sound design, as we hear the same conversation over and over again. But we can hear very little of it at first. There is all kinds of distortion, but we gradually hear more. And the seemingly benign (as Stan puts it "Stupid") conversation suddenly carries more and more weight. Caul begins to question everything about the conversation, as everything becomes clearer. But even so, not much is revealed until Caul finds out who he's working for and why.
This film kept me guessing from beginning to end. It starts out posing questions, but gives you few clues. And every time I thought I had things figured out, there was another twist. Even the ending poses a question - probably the biggest question of all - how can the man who never shared a secret and never took chances ever be bested in his own field? Caul literally tears himself apart trying to answer that question.
This is a thriller that surprises and engages all the way through. Even I felt paranoid as I watched it. It's one thing to recognize what's going on, but it's quite another to be sucked in to the story to the point where we feel what the characters feel. I'm still looking over my shoulder.
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Frederic Forrest, Cindy Williams, Harrison Ford, Allen Garfield
When you see a character on screen, and they protray paranoia in a believeable way, that's good acting.
When you're watching the same scene and you can feel the paranoia, that's good directing.
Made between the two Godfather films, The Conversation was another exhibit in the case that, in the 1970's, Francis Ford Coppola could do no wrong. It is a perfectly constructed film with a heavy dose of Hitchcock-ian suspense, but with his own personal twist on it.
Gene Hackman plays Harry Caul, a surveillence man hired to record a conversation between a man and a woman. And he is the best there is; or so he thinks. A deeply secretive man, Harry tells no personal details to his co-worker Stan (Cazale), to his girlfriend or anybody but his priest. Hackman plays the role to perfection, starting out first as a rigid, humorless man, then letting intense paranoia bubble to the surface when he finds out that he is being beaten at his own game. Harrison Ford is especially creepy as Martin Stett, a mysterious assistant for the director who hires Caul. Ford says little in the film, but everything he says has weight and menace behind it. Allen Garfiled plays rival surveillence man Bernie Moran, whose diminutive size belies his more diabolical side. The scenes beteween Hackman and Garfield are when the paranoia starts to really surface, as Moran shows Caul that even he can be bugged.
The film relies heavily on sound design, as we hear the same conversation over and over again. But we can hear very little of it at first. There is all kinds of distortion, but we gradually hear more. And the seemingly benign (as Stan puts it "Stupid") conversation suddenly carries more and more weight. Caul begins to question everything about the conversation, as everything becomes clearer. But even so, not much is revealed until Caul finds out who he's working for and why.
This film kept me guessing from beginning to end. It starts out posing questions, but gives you few clues. And every time I thought I had things figured out, there was another twist. Even the ending poses a question - probably the biggest question of all - how can the man who never shared a secret and never took chances ever be bested in his own field? Caul literally tears himself apart trying to answer that question.
This is a thriller that surprises and engages all the way through. Even I felt paranoid as I watched it. It's one thing to recognize what's going on, but it's quite another to be sucked in to the story to the point where we feel what the characters feel. I'm still looking over my shoulder.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Day 18:You Could Stay Forever If You Want To
CORALINE (2009)
Directed by Henry Selick
Starring the voices of: Dakota Fanning, Terri Hatcher, Ian McShane, Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French
What do you think of when you think of animated films? Do you think of furry little woodland creatures singing bright, sappy songs? Do you think of fairy tales about princesses on their quest for Prince Charming?
Or do you think of giant mechanical spider-witches? Or obese, half-naked former movie divas? Or maybe replicants of your family members with buttons sewn over their eyeballs?
If you prefer the latter to the former, then oh boy, have I got a movie for you.
Let me say this up front: this movie will more than likely scare the ever-loving crap out of your kids. But that’s a good thing, since that’s exactly what it was intended to do. Based on the novel by Neil Gaiman (who is known for his more grown-up horror stories), Coraline tells the story of a young girl (Fanning) who moves to a new town with her neglectful, workaholic parents. The apartment is filled with strange neighbors, but most of them want nothing to do with Coraline. They can’t even get her name right. But one day, while exploring the house, she comes upon a small door that has been covered with wallpaper. By day, it’s bricked up and impassible. But by night, it leads to a wonderful alternate universe where everything is exponentially better than her normal life. Her parents lavish attention on her. Her neighbors are magical, mystical entertainers. Sure, they all look a bit creepy, what with those button sewn over their eyes, but everyone is as happy as can be. Because there’s trouble if anyone shows a noticeable lack of joviality…
The film was done in stop-motion animation by the same director who brought us The Nightmare Before Christmas. But in the years since that first film, technology has progressed quite a bit, adding for several digital assists that add to the movie’s look. And what a look it is. This is one of the best designed films I have ever seen. The filmmakers have created a world where their imaginations were allowed to run rampant. However, there is a great deal of control, as nothing seems out of place. All the visual and conceptual ideas flow into and out of one another.
Coraline is interesting for another reason: it’s essentially a horror film for kids. There’s no blood or guts or sex (except for a bit of comical partial nudity), but there is plenty of “nightmare fuel.” The characters were designed in such a way that they could be pulled out of their usually comical forms and twisted into grotesque figures. Over the course of the film, Coraline must find the eyes of a group of ghost children that the Other Mother (the aforementioned Giant Mechanical Spider Witch) had hidden from them. True, there’s little in the way of violence here, but there’s enough to keep your kids up for a few nights.
The only weak spot with Coraline is the voice acting. True, you’ve got a group of actors who don’t normally work in the voice-over realm, but I’ve got to believe they could have put more effort into it than they did. The exceptions are Saunders and French who play so well off each other that they are the highlight of all the performances. And wait till you see their musical review…
To tell you the truth, I have been waiting for a long time for animated films to break out of the “age ghetto.” This happens all the time in Europe and Asia, where animation is looked at as a respected art form that can handle any genre. Here in the States, it’s strictly kiddy fare. But Coraline doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to intensity, which may upset many parents. And that’s okay. Animation can do whatever we want it to do. For decades, it was used to baby-sit unruly kids. Now people are starting to see the potential the medium has, and are using it to tell stories that couldn’t be told in live-action, regardless of whether somebody’s three-year-old may like it. They’re doing it for the art of it, which is how it should be. This is still filmmaking, after all.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Running Behind...
Hey all. It's just starting to sink in that this may take longer than 100 actual calender days. But if I get the chance, I'm going to play catch-up by making two posts a day. Maybe even three, if I can. But if it takes something closer to 111 Days, I hope that's okay.
Day 17: Reasonable Doubt
12 ANGRY MEN (1957)
Directed by Sidney Lumet
Starring: Martin Balsam, John Fiedler, Lee J. Cobb, E.G. Marshall, Jack Klugman, Edward Binns, Jack Warden, Henry Fonda, Joseph Sweeney, Ed Begley, George Voskovec, Robert Webber
Here is a task that really determines what kind of filmmaker you are: make jury duty interesting. And don't forget to make it entertaining and thought-provoking as well. Oh, and while you're at it, make sure you make the sight of twelve guys sitting around a table for an hour and a half visually interesting.
This would be a daunting task for any director. But if you're a first-timer, like Sidney Lumet was, it must have been downright scary. The script for 12 Angry Men is, essentially, a filmed play. It all takes place (for the most part) in one room, on one set. There is very little action and a lot of talking. How do you keep an audience's interest?
Well, it doesn't hurt to hire the best actors you can find. And they don't get much better than Henry Fonda (Juror #8) and Lee J. Cobb (Juror #3). In the film, they continually oppose each other as Fonda tries to explain his reasonable doubt as to whether a young man has killed his own father. Cobb has no doubts in his mind, even as the other ten jurors (all fine actors in their own right) change their verdicts. The two play off each other superbly; as Fonda calmly tries to explain his position, Cobb vehemently defends his opinions and displays an amazing amount of realistic rage completely uncharacteristic of most actors of the day.
Even with all the great acting, this film would not have been nearly as effective if everything were static and stagy. And thankfully, it's not. Lumet uses a variety of simple but effective camera techniques, all designed to convey the appropriate mood. As the movie progresses, wide-angle lenses were used to make the room look smaller than normal, giving a real sense of claustrophobia. Several key scenes are played out in extreme close-ups. But contrary to this (and the most effective part of the film) was when Juror #10 (Begley) gives an impassioned speech, declaring the boy guilty simply because he's "one of them." As his racist tirade goes on, the other jurors leave the table. Consequently, so does the camera. It backs slowly away from him until he stands completely alone, with no one to back him up.
This was a great little film, even if Fonda does get preachy at times. But it's also a hell of a debut from Sidney Lumet. It's interesting to look back to the early films of certain directors to see how far they've come. But Lumet seemed to be on top of his game from the get-go. This is the kind of debut film most people only dream about. And Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon and Network were all still in his future. This was the start of one of Hollywood's smartest filmmakers.
Directed by Sidney Lumet
Starring: Martin Balsam, John Fiedler, Lee J. Cobb, E.G. Marshall, Jack Klugman, Edward Binns, Jack Warden, Henry Fonda, Joseph Sweeney, Ed Begley, George Voskovec, Robert Webber
Here is a task that really determines what kind of filmmaker you are: make jury duty interesting. And don't forget to make it entertaining and thought-provoking as well. Oh, and while you're at it, make sure you make the sight of twelve guys sitting around a table for an hour and a half visually interesting.
This would be a daunting task for any director. But if you're a first-timer, like Sidney Lumet was, it must have been downright scary. The script for 12 Angry Men is, essentially, a filmed play. It all takes place (for the most part) in one room, on one set. There is very little action and a lot of talking. How do you keep an audience's interest?
Well, it doesn't hurt to hire the best actors you can find. And they don't get much better than Henry Fonda (Juror #8) and Lee J. Cobb (Juror #3). In the film, they continually oppose each other as Fonda tries to explain his reasonable doubt as to whether a young man has killed his own father. Cobb has no doubts in his mind, even as the other ten jurors (all fine actors in their own right) change their verdicts. The two play off each other superbly; as Fonda calmly tries to explain his position, Cobb vehemently defends his opinions and displays an amazing amount of realistic rage completely uncharacteristic of most actors of the day.
Even with all the great acting, this film would not have been nearly as effective if everything were static and stagy. And thankfully, it's not. Lumet uses a variety of simple but effective camera techniques, all designed to convey the appropriate mood. As the movie progresses, wide-angle lenses were used to make the room look smaller than normal, giving a real sense of claustrophobia. Several key scenes are played out in extreme close-ups. But contrary to this (and the most effective part of the film) was when Juror #10 (Begley) gives an impassioned speech, declaring the boy guilty simply because he's "one of them." As his racist tirade goes on, the other jurors leave the table. Consequently, so does the camera. It backs slowly away from him until he stands completely alone, with no one to back him up.
This was a great little film, even if Fonda does get preachy at times. But it's also a hell of a debut from Sidney Lumet. It's interesting to look back to the early films of certain directors to see how far they've come. But Lumet seemed to be on top of his game from the get-go. This is the kind of debut film most people only dream about. And Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon and Network were all still in his future. This was the start of one of Hollywood's smartest filmmakers.
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