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...
Saturday, February 18, 2012
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)