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#20 - Parker (2013) Taylor Hackford - 1/29/2013

First of all, if you’re a fan of the character Parker as popularized by Darwyn Cooke, run away as fast as you can, for you’ll be sorely disappointed. A movie based on the Parker of The Hunter or The Outfit, with a visual style influenced by Cooke, would have been an amazing movie indeed.

What we get, instead, is an action/heist-ish movie that’s all process and almost no payoff, based on one of the later Parker stories. If the film is faithful to the book (Flashfire), it makes me think that perhaps Donald Westlake was getting soft in his golden years. Gone is the cold cruelty of Parker, an uncaring, ruthless force. In his place is a truffle of a Parker - a hard outer shell with the calculated drive to regain what he is owed because of the principle of it all, but with a gooey center.

As an action/heist-ish movie, it’s not terrible, but I was far too disappointed by what could have been to be anywhere near satisfied with what I got. Jason Statham is perfectly serviceable, but there must be something in his contract where he always has to play the bad boy with a heart of gold. It’s annoying. Parker shouldn’t have a heart of gold, he shouldn’t have a heart. The rest of the performances ranged from not bad/strange (J Lo, Patti LuPone) to terrible (Michael Chiklis, Nick Nolte). I quite liked Emma Booth as Parker’s girlfriend, and actually didn’t mind the character too much.

Along with Magic Mike and Killing Them Softly, this is another movie played against a background of the economic crisis. Leslie (Lopez) is a casualty of the economic meltdown, desperately needing (and failing) to sell luxury that she can never afford. Lopez did an excellent job in the moment where she expresses her frustration at being constantly faced with that irony, but the movie treated that moment almost as a throwaway in the scene and in the film. Where Magic Mike subtly infused details of the economy into almost every scene, or where Killing Them Softly made very loud and very angry comments about the economy in almost every scene, Parker wastes an opportunity to make a much more interesting statement.

I found Leslie to be a compelling character, yet puzzling. Lopez does a very good job portraying her resiliency in the face of economic despair. It’s clear that the character is supposed to be sharp and perceptive, which I liked, but Lopez also plays the character a bit ditzy, which I didn’t like, but that in itself is an interesting comment on a woman who is smarter than she looks and who knows she can use that to her advantage at times, so maybe I liked that choice after all? I also wasn’t quite sure of what to make of Leslie’s overt attraction to Parker/ desperate seduction attempts. It was kind of refreshing to see a woman’s sexual desires shown, something not commonly shown in this way. It was also kind of refreshing to see audience expectations subverted. But it was also disconcerting to see it played as sad desperation.

I loved the look of the place markers, but they could have used a few more; the inconsistency felt sloppy. All of the daytime scenes felt too bright and washed out, and enough with the goddamn close ups!

But what bothered me most were the flashbacks - never my favorite technique, even when done well, but here they were particularly inelegant and just plain dumb. Especially when Parker is reliving a scene that happened exactly five minutes ago, that the audience all lived through exactly five minutes ago, and which was particularly painful the first time around.

This isn’t a terrible movie, but there’s almost nothing surprising or outstanding about it, nothing that really elevates this movie to something I would recommend.

This is a movie that Tim and I watched for our Spoiler Series.

#17 - The Untouchables (1987) Brian De Palma 1/26/2013

I just saw The Untouchables for the first time, and let me tell you, I loved it. While the entire film entertained the hell out of me, there were several things that completely elevated the film to something really excellent.

The title credits - AMAZING. Morricone’s opening theme is the very definition of spaghetti western + Chicago gangster, and yet it is completely unlike anything I had ever heard before. It has been stuck in my head for the past few days, and that’s not a complaint in any way. Morricone really outdid himself on the score.

The first scene is an excellent indicator of what is to come. From the start, De Palma knocks your socks off with his visual inventiveness and playfulness, but it is not just style, there really is substance. The overhead shot allows you to see the whole room - Capone at the center of his sphere of influence, the press in close around him, his advisers/ guards at the edge of the circle. His men are there for support and protection yet Capone, about to be shaved, is put in a position of incredible vulnerability; the overhead shot enforces this feeling even more. The wide angle and the circular motif are used in other Capone scenes to underline his pull on the press and the public. De Palma also does something here that I really like, creating an establishing shot that is visually interesting before moving in for the closer shot. The scene at the firing range is another great example.

This scene also shows DeNiro’s greatness. The barber approaches with the straight razor, which anytime, really, I view as a Chekhov’s gun situation. The unthinkable happens, he cuts Capone’s face, and DeNiro’s choices in those moments show everything - the slight jerk, [the barber’s terror], the finger with the blood, Capone *almost* touching the barber but not quite, that fluid movement from the finger with the blood to the finger pointing, and then the rest of the gestures - so simple, so precise, so perfect. In quick succession you see why Capone is feared, how he commands so much power and control, and ultimately why he was a charismatic celebrity.

The scene that almost got me on my feet was the scene between Jim Malone (Sean Connery) and the police chief (Richard Bradford). Again, an interesting establishing shot - nighttime, rain, blue lights illuminating half the shot, red lights illuminating the other half. Connery and Bradford face off in one of the most outstandingly performed scenes I can remember. Really masterful acting. For most of the scene it is a long take and a medium shot, and as their fight escalates, it is emphasized with a medium close up and then a close up. Oooh, I loved it!

A few final notes - there are really too many outstanding scenes to highlight, but the shooting range scene, Capone’s dinner, the elevator sequence, and inside Malone’s house are all favorites. It was nice to finally see the Odessa Steps sequence in context, as I’d seen it in classes before. I don’t know why I am only seeing this for the first time now, maybe because I was like, Costner? nah. But I really liked him. Andy Garcia, yes please. I guess I should also say that I have a strange weakness for movies about people teaming up together (I think this might be my main reason for liking Alien3), so my love for this may be a little overdone (but I don’t think so!). There’s also some unavoidable late 80s cheese, but it’s bearable.

I was lucky to see it in 70mm, but it’s also on Netflix right now. Do yourself a favor and have a great cinematic experience.

#15 - The Company (2003) Robert Altman - 1/21/2013

The Company is special to me, partly because it feels so familiar. As a once-serious, classically-trained ballet dancer, I’m always reluctant to watch films featuring ballet; rarely do I feel that they accurately capture the world I saw. But The Company really does. It captures the feel of being part of something that others don’t really understand. It captures the drama and the pettiness and camaraderie of the company, the feel of the dressing room, the feel backstage. It captures a little of what it feels like to rehearse in an empty theatre, and to later feel the energy in that same theatre, from a packed house. It captures the essence of that mantra, the show must go on. And it captures the feeling after the performance ends, and the dancer leaves the stage, returns to a normal life, and is like a god amongst men - what is that person doing waiting tables, they just did something that was so beautiful and so super human what are they doing there.

The narrative alternates between pieces of performance and snippets of Ry (Neve Campbell) and the company’s lives, often in rehearsal for the pieces. It’s not a traditional narrative, or a narrative with a major conflict. Instead, the film is about small conflicts, small dramas in the course of creating art.

This is also probably the best that ballet looks on screen. The Company features The Joffrey Ballet of Chicago, a company whose style I love, where I wanted to audition once-upon-a-time. Altman knows that most viewers couldn’t give a fuck about how the dance is presented, they mostly want to see where Neve is. But he treats the pieces with the respect that they deserve, even when using the medium of film to show the dance in a way that you wouldn’t see from the audience. The piece on the giant swing is still one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen on film, and well worth a watch.

Malcolm McDowell is PERFECT as the ballet master. His mannerisms and the things he says - I swear they modeled that character on my ballet mistress. “You look like you’ve got a load in your pants!” (my ballet mistress used to say that we looked like a bear taking a dump in the woods), calling the dancers “babies” and “phonies”, flitting from whim to whim, contradictions be damned.

And Neve is a perfectly serviceable dancer, although there are definitely times when I felt like screaming at the screen, “relax your goddamn shoulders and stick in those ribs!” She’s better than Natalie Portman, at least. I also didn’t want to kill James Franco, so there’s that.

Major props to the foley artist who perfectly captured the sound of a tendon snapping. A++

wehadanappointment:

taekwonjew:

Cloud Atlas (2012) Tom Tykwer, Andy Wachowski, Lana Wachowski

Cloud Atlas was a great adaptation that I ultimately did not like. The film achieves what it sets out to achieve, and I think it actually improves upon the book. It takes a complex narrative and nebulous themes and manages to make something coherent, interesting, and thematically clear (probably too clear, but whatever). I think that most of my issues lie with the source material itself, for I did not find the book entertaining or edifying, and finishing it was a chore - this also translated to the film (at least, for me - some dude clapped and hooted no less than three times, so there’s that). I can’t tell you when I last checked my watch during a film, but I did during Cloud Atlas, twice. I felt nothing for the characters in either text.

While the racial, gender, and physical morphing were very effective in strengthening the film’s arguments of interconnectedness, humanity, and tolerance, the racial morphing made me very uncomfortable. In the film, white and black actors are given “Asian eyes”, a black actress is made into a white character, an Asian actress is made into a white character and a Latina character. It all bothered me, but particularly the terrible Asianification, which looks really horrible and jarring. As (I think) the only Asian in the theatre, I found myself sinking down into my seat, like, this is how yall see me??? With just like really fucked up eyes?

The argument put forth by the film, and strengthened through the use of altered appearances of its actors, basically boils down to a “we all bleed red” argument - which, while idealistic, is neither effective nor appropriate for furthering discussions of race in this world. The fact that no non-black actors were made to play black characters makes me think that the filmmakers did understand that there was something inherently unacceptable with what they were doing. I almost feel like, if you really believe in your argument, then be faithful to it, go all the way. But the line is drawn at blackface (and rightly so), while yellowface, also an historically-loaded cinematic practice, is deemed acceptable.

I don’t condemn the film for this, but I give it a real fucking hard side-eye. It is an ambitious film that really succeeds in its goals, but is problematic at its core.

#223 - 12/1/2012

I just finished writing up this huge rant about how race isn’t the point of the film (I haven’t read the book so I don’t know about that, but I’ve seen the movie three times so I know what I’m talking about), and I really, really don’t feel like reiterating it here, so let me just talk about one thing, specific to your review.

What you refer to as “Asianification” wasn’t supposed to make them look like us. If you recall, these characters were called “purebreds” and were treated as separate from the “fabricants,” which were the Asians that actually looked like Asians because they were Asian (Doona Bae, Zhou Xun). They make it clear in the movie that these fabricants are genetically engineered to look the way they do (like modern Asians). It’s implied, therefore, that the purebreds can’t be classified as Asian anymore, that they’re something else. And I strongly believe that even if they’d had an Asian in a purebred role, they still would have made him/her look like the other purebreds.

So I mean, I don’t know. I’m fully Asian, chinky eyes and all, and I wasn’t at all put off by the purebreds. (Well obviously, because if I were, I wouldn’t have gone to see it again.) I didn’t see it as yellowface at all. I didn’t even know people had issues with that until I went online and saw a bunch of backlash about it, and this frustrates me, because that isn’t even the point.

You clearly love the film, and that makes me really happy. A lot of people really love this film, and I’m so glad. It’s an ambitious film; it takes a challenging book that people thought would be totally unfilmable, and makes an epic, sweeping film that I thought transcended the book. I did not personally connect with the film as you did, but I hope it was clear that I thought this was because of failings in the source material, and not necessarily the film itself.

You bring up a good point, that the film draws a distinction between the purebreds and the fabricants, and the changes to the actors’ appearances are used to support that. I had overlooked that point which, narratively, diegetically, makes sense. It is an important point - the racial, gender, and physical morphing not only play a thematic role (which I had acknowledged), but in this case the racial morphing (for the neo-Seoul part) specifically plays a direct narrative role.

But media can go beyond pure enjoyment, and there are many ways to read any text. No, the point of the film is not to exist as a discussion about race, but race is one thing that is clearly used thematically in the film, and so it is open season for discussion. There are many lenses through which one can perform critical analysis. I don’t think it’s a stretch for anyone to recognize that pieces of art don’t exist in a vacuum. This film didn’t spring forth from the camera fully formed and uninformed by culture and by history. It would be one thing if all people had been equally and fairly represented on film throughout time. But I, personally, was unable to see this film without thinking of the historical representation of people of color on film.

There are reasons why blackface is taboo, good reasons, and I was only hoping to point out that when there are images of white people in yellowface throughout film history, I find it hard to understand why this practice is also not taboo.

Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Sidney Toler as Charlie Chan

Boris Karloff in The Mask of Fu Manchu

Additionally, I hope you recognize that your experience of the film and how it made you feel is every bit as valid as my experience of the film. It doesn’t matter whether someone experiences something one time or fifty times, if something makes a person feel a certain way, you can’t say “no it didn’t”, or “I didn’t feel that way so there’s no reason that you should have”. You can, however, posit that there might be reasons why it should or shouldn’t have made me feel that way, which I am hoping is what you were trying to do. In this case, your point about the purebreds vs. the replicants is a excellent point, and strengthens the argument for the facial alterations used in the film. I accept that the alterations serve a narrative purpose, and that perhaps the narrative couldn’t have been served through any other means. But the way in which it was done still made me feel uncomfortable. I am glad that it did not make you feel uncomfortable. And I have no patience for the people who boycotted the film before it even came out, based on the images alone. But still - it made me feel uncomfortable, and I know that I am not the only one.

It is OK to like things that are problematic. I loved Skyfall, despite the rapey scene and the exoticized love slave and the general holdover of misogyny. I think that Sean Penn is a great actor, despite his personal history of domestic abuse. Nothing and no one is perfect, so it’s important to at least acknowledge that something you love or something that someone you love does may be kinda fucked up. The yellowface used in this film is, on a whole, very positive, and not at all of the Mickey Rooney variety. But for me, its very use (and, I still think, it’s very poor execution) conjures those years and years of history.

Cloud Atlas (2012) Tom Tykwer, Andy Wachowski, Lana Wachowski

Cloud Atlas was a great adaptation that I ultimately did not like. The film achieves what it sets out to achieve, and I think it actually improves upon the book. It takes a complex narrative and nebulous themes and manages to make something coherent, interesting, and thematically clear (probably too clear, but whatever). I think that most of my issues lie with the source material itself, for I did not find the book entertaining or edifying, and finishing it was a chore - this also translated to the film (at least, for me - some dude clapped and hooted no less than three times, so there’s that). I can’t tell you when I last checked my watch during a film, but I did during Cloud Atlas, twice. I felt nothing for the characters in either text.

While the racial, gender, and physical morphing were very effective in strengthening the film’s arguments of interconnectedness, humanity, and tolerance, the racial morphing made me very uncomfortable. In the film, white and black actors are given “Asian eyes”, a black actress is made into a white character, an Asian actress is made into a white character and a Latina character. It all bothered me, but particularly the terrible Asianification, which looks really horrible and jarring. As (I think) the only Asian in the theatre, I found myself sinking down into my seat, like, this is how yall see me??? With just like really fucked up eyes?

The argument put forth by the film, and strengthened through the use of altered appearances of its actors, basically boils down to a “we all bleed red” argument - which, while idealistic, is neither effective nor appropriate for furthering discussions of race in this world. The fact that no non-black actors were made to play black characters makes me think that the filmmakers did understand that there was something inherently unacceptable with what they were doing. I almost feel like, if you really believe in your argument, then be faithful to it, go all the way. But the line is drawn at blackface (and rightly so), while yellowface, also an historically-loaded cinematic practice, is deemed acceptable.

I don’t condemn the film for this, but I give it a real fucking hard side-eye. It is an ambitious film that really succeeds in its goals, but is problematic at its core.

#223 - 12/1/2012

Middle of Nowhere (2012) Ava DuVernay

Today in 2012 we have so much choice on how to entertain ourselves. We can turn to the TV, or the computer, or the console, or the tablet, or the smartphone, or the handheld. We have Netflix, HBO, Hulu, iTunes, Amazon, and more (oh yea, cable). Sometimes we choose to watch things that are challenging, informative, ground-breaking. But there are probably more times that we turn to things that are easier, more convenient, more comfortable.

Sometimes we choose the movie theatre. It’s hard to justify going to the theatre to see this type of movie - there aren’t any special effects, there aren’t any breathtaking vistas, it’s just a small quiet story about love and family and devotion and sacrifice.

But I think this film makes a compelling case for viewing in the theatre. I think it’s the perfect independent film in many ways - being independent from the Hollywood system that excludes so many stories and voices.

Ava DuVernay tells a really beautiful story about a woman who is trying her best to be what the people in her life need her to be (did you know that you can have a “strong female character” who doesn’t have to be an action hero???). The acting is incredible, with everyone turning in really exciting performances.

I know that it seems like it doesn’t really make a difference, but I’m glad I saw this in the theatre and supported this film. I hope you give it a chance too, if you can.

#202 10/28/2012

West Side Story (1961) Jerome Robbins, Robert Wise

It is the personal and humble opinion of this writer that West Side Story is the best movie musical (I know these things get contentious). AFI (and many people) would disagree, in favor of Singin’ in the Rain, but I am going to let my opinion fly and say this one, this one is the greatest.

It has the pedigree - a story based on Romeo and Juliet and written by Arthur Laurents, a score from Leonard Bernstein, lyrics from Stephen Sondheim, choreography by Jerome Robbins, and visual consulting from Saul Bass. It has the performers - yes, Natalie Wood and even Richard Beymer (although I had a hard time getting Benjamin Horne out of my head), but ESPECIALLY Rita Moreno and George Chakiris. It has the visuals - the perfect cinematography that immediately draws us in and turns the universal into the personal, and the rich use of colors that were at their best in 70mm. And it has the emotional impact that comes from good storytelling - a story of love and loss and the immigrant experience.

But what really solidifies this for me as the best musical are the songs and the dancing. Prior to this viewing, I had probably seen Singin’ in the Rain more recently, but other than the titular number, I cannot recall any of the songs, and only very little of the dancing (Donald O’Connor’s scene with the props, the cabaret scene). Whereas I know almost every West Side Story song by heart, and some of the choreography too. I can’t even name a favorite scene - the Mambo at the dance? The skewering of America on the rooftop? The absolutely exhilarating medley of Tonight after intermission? The biting commentary of Officer Krupke? The bitter desperation of Cool? All of them, all favorites.

And I could go on for paragraphs more about Rita Moreno and her character, Anita. That perfect, perfect woman with her flawless facial expressions and flawless acting and flawless dancing and her tragic, tragic character. Rita/Anita is what stood out to me most this time, the tragedy of the character, and the tragedy of the sorry fact that this amazing woman was largely unable to get more films and more roles good enough for her, a situation that has not improved greatly for women and especially women of color.

The end still somehow moved me close to tears, which left me feeling somewhat embarrassed. Aren’t I supposed to be past musicals, past seeing them as anything but a slightly ridiculous means of expressing emotions? But no, not when the emotion is so real and the story not much different in the America of the 2010s as it was in the America of the 1960s.

#176 - 8/25/2012

The Master (2012) Paul Thomas Anderson

I’m not sure at this point that I can actually separate the circumstances under which I saw this film with the film itself.

When I got to the theatre, I wasn’t expecting to see The Master. I had bought tickets to see Baraka in 70mm; I knew that there was a sneak peek going on that day, but I had assumed it was happening later, after Baraka. It wasn’t until I picked up my tickets and the ticket lady asked if I was excited or bummed out, that I found out that I was about to get to see The Master.

Sitting in the audience, I wondered, how crazy would it be if PTA were there?

IT WAS REALLY FUCKING CRAZY YALL. Paul Thomas Anderson WAS there, he was like six feet from me for a while, I could have reached out and touched him.

It’s silly how much that meant. I know that. But to be in the same room as the person who created what I’ve recently recognized as being my favorite film and the one that means the most to me (Magnolia), I was just totally overwhelmed. I was so overwhelmed that I may have cried just a little bit (not proud).

So with that, watching the film…

It is beautiful. And in 70mm… breathtaking, really. The most beautiful lighting, the most beautiful images of the water. I was riveted by the film. And the performances were wonderful; Philip Seymour Hoffman obvs, Joaquin Phoenix and his fascinating face, and especially Amy Adams - she was absolutely perfect, perfect, perfect for that role.

The comparisons to There Will Be Blood are inevitable, and on first watch, it does seem to pale in comparison. But I think maybe only slightly, or maybe it will grow brighter over time. It don’t think that there’s less going on, it’s just quieter, subtler, more layered, more understated, more subdued.

But I’m still stuck thinking about this, both alone and within PTA’s larger body of work, trying to organize thoughts and work through themes and make things fit in some way. And I’m also stuck with this thought that it’s actually quite apt, this study of the personal worship of the master, and what could easily be my personal worship of PTA. How it’s really all bullshit; but despite that, I couldn’t even dream of trying to talk to him, because of the feeling that even my presence in the same space is somehow offensive for being on a different plane of existence.

I recognize that this is crazy talk, and so with that, I’m done.

#185 - 9/10/2012

Lost in Translation (2003) Sofia Coppola

Some films capture events; some films capture characters; this film captures feelings.

I re-watched Lost in Translation recently, fully expecting to dislike it this time, fully expecting to cringe a lot, but instead I found myself still really liking it and really appreciating its emotional honesty.

It reminded me of my own travels, and that mixed bag of emotions that’s only experienced when you’re halfway around the world.

Although she has made only four feature films so far, I hope that Sofia continues to make excellent films. I think she deserves a little more acclaim, as she hasn’t had a misfire yet. While she’s working on her 5th, PTA is just putting out his 6th. While not quite the creator of masterpieces that PTA is, she has a unique voice and a distinctive style; a perfect treatment for her small, quiet stories. Although I’m not sure how I feel about the subject of The Bling Ring, I eagerly look forward to anything she does.

Also, a little proudshamed that I pretty much nailed the timing on “Marcello!”(unintentionally, I swear).

#173 - 8/15/2012

Spellbound (1945) Spellbound

A little more than halfway through Hitchcock’s filmography, and Spellbound was probably my most anticipated of what’s left. I was not disappointed.

Visually, Spellbound is stunning. Setting the Dali sequence aside for a moment, Hitch really works some magic with the camera. Oh, I wish I had taken some notes earlier, because I’m forgetting so much. But it’s not just the trick shots, the interesting POV shots, or the visual motifs (I feel like it must have been somewhat difficult to get “white lines” to show on film, right?), but simple things, like the light falling on Bergman in her room. Of course, when working with Bergman and Peck, it could not have been too challenging to make them look beautiful.

The dream sequence, with artwork by Salvador Dali, was exactly how the psychoanalysis should have been represented on film. While the film’s treatment of psychoanalysis is quite laughable now, it works within the film, which is the only logic that matters for Hitchcock. It’s a shame the sequence was note longer, as Dali had much more planned, including a statue breaking apart, and underneath, Ingrid Bergman lying on the ground, with ants crawling all over her.

But because the picture deals so heavily with psychoanalysis, and the performance of psychoanalysis is the subject of the film, it sticks too close to (questionable) logic and too far from emotion. There is a lot of explaining to do, and a lot of wordiness - I always prefer the ones that could almost be silent films. I think it’s telling that Spellbound was adapted to a radio play.

Ingrid Bergman was wonderful, and Michael Chekhov as Bergman’s mentor was fabulously funny. Although Gregory Peck was beautiful, I’m not sure I loved him - I found myself wishing for the expressiveness of Anthony Perkins.

All in all, a good Hitchcock, a really good film by any other measure, and one that I heartily enjoyed.

#170 - 7/30/2012

Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present (2012) Matthew Akers, Jeff Dupre

I have a hard time with documentaries. I do appreciate the form, but I bristle at the belief, held by some, that documentaries speak truth in a way that fiction films don’t (same goes for books). There is no such thing as an unbiased documentary, but some filmmakers do try more than others, or at least acknowledge the bias. In that respect, I think that Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present is at least somewhat honest; one of Marina’s assistants talks about the careful marketing of Marina, and this is just one piece of that. Still, I am very glad I watched it.

Marina stated that she wanted to make this film to show the administration of art, and everything that goes into the performances. It isn’t something that’s seen often, and I think it helps to shed some light on the commercial art world.

And it allows me to come as close as I can to experiencing the performance, without having to be there. It’s so incredibly snobbish of me, but I really hate crowded museums. I want my experience of art to feel private. I don’t want to be surrounded by someone who loudly asks, “which one is she?” or fucking James Franco flailing about to make some profound statement about art, or someone who walks past making a face, shrugging. It’s fine, those questions are fine, that attitude is fine (James Franco is not fine), but I don’t want to fucking see it, it hurts.

To experience great art is something that approaches sanctity to me, and I really do find Marina’s art to be some of the most intensely moving work that I know of. The film also shows videos of earlier performances that I had only read about before, especially her work with her partner Ulay. That stuff absolutely slayed me, I was pretty much weeping throughout. Her medium is her body, time, and space, and her concepts are clear, bold, and uncompromising.

But it’s interesting - between my adoration of Marina and my quasi-religious feelings about art, I found myself thinking about cults. What is that line? There is a superficial similarity between the training she required her artists to go through, and the environment of a cult (the big difference is that Marina was trying to teach them how to create their own charismatic space). But the cult of personality is another idea that I think is raised through the nature of the piece itself, as well as the hype surrounding the exhibit. I saw the film as trying to address this in a way, and Marina wanting to transcend this.

A while ago, when discussing her work and performance art in general, I was having a hard time figuring out just what I don’t like about most performance art; at the time, I said that much of it feels like spectacle to me. In the film, they talk about the difference between performance and theatrics, and I really think that’s it.

#162 - 7/15/2012

Se7en (1995) David Fincher

The night is dark and full of terrors.

I hadn’t seen this since high school, and had forgotten almost everything except the first murder and the ending.

I had forgotten so much. It is a perfect example of letting the mind fill in the blanks to create an even more powerful effect than showing the actual violence. What we do see, the aftermath of violence, the characters’ reactions, and the dark and disgusting atmosphere, is horrifying enough. The lust kill, for example, is something that could easily be included in a slasher film, probably very effectively, but showing it in this way creates a much bigger impact. From the moment the detectives walk into the dungeon crime scene to the moment the interrogations end, each sitting alone in separate rooms, the effect created is so much more alienating, horrifying, and visceral than the initial shock value would have been.

The production designer deserves all the awards. Every aspect of the mise-en-scene is perfect, but particularly the attention to detail in every set. The screen is just chock full of visual information and the interiors radiate a palpable psychosis. But there is no escape, even outside, where the unnamed city itself is almost a character. To leave the dark and claustrophobic rooms to go outdoors with its unceasing rain and an endless stream of cars, is no escape. Even at each detective’s home, the environment fights its way inside. In a way, the city is responsible, and the killer is only an agent. This city is a cesspool of sin, allowing it to breed and overflow.

Somerset is world-weary, humanistic but with a realist’s pessimism, and Freeman plays him perfectly. The character is still somewhat of an enigma; we don’t know much about him, but we’re intrigued. Pitt’s character is much more of an established archetype, painted in brash, loud strokes. These characters provide much needed contrast, and it is because Mills is an archetypal character that the plot works as it does. Both characters are essential in this way. And the killer does not have to be present for most of the movie to be the most complete of the characters.

The cinematography is beautiful in its darkness. I found out that Se7en shares a DP (Darius Khondji) with Delicatessen and City of Lost Children (among many others). On my next viewing, I will pay more attention to the use of light, both natural and artificial. I like how light is used in the cinematography, but I also like how it plays into the film thematically - not only “shedding light on the case”, but instances in which lighting fails to work for Somerset and Mills (the light switch, Mills’ flashlight), and how the film ends in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by power lines, still stuck in the killers’ game.

#157 - 7/9/2012

I Confess (1953) Alfred Hitchcock

Oh, so that was Montgomery Clift.

It’s always comforting to finish watching a Hitchcock film, and come back to his interviews to find that you feel the same way about his film that he did. While I don’t think that it should never have been made* (due to disbelief that the priest would not speak up; a view that was apparently held by everyone except the Catholics), I do think that it was heavy-handed and lacking in humor. That tone, that humor and sense of irony, is one of the strongest defining characteristic of his films, and something that he touches on over and over throughout his talks with Truffaut. Its absence (for the most part) is definitely felt in I Confess.

But so yea, Montgomery Clift. phew! Not quite Marlon Brando-level magnetism, but close. His intensity and dignity really carries the role. I didn’t mind Anne Baxter, although Hitch did. And Karl Malden, <3. The film also looks beautiful. Aside from some heavy-handed imagery and a surprising overuse of canted shots, the cinematography is really beautiful, and the settings look great - it was shot in several churches in Quebec.

Also interesting - some things that I had suspected were then confirmed in the wiki article, so if you have seen the film, I recommend taking a look (first paragraph here).

*FT: Then would you say that the basic concept of the film was wrong?

AH: That’s right; we shouldn’t have made the picture.

And also…

AH: As a matter of fact, it was difficult [trying to reconcile the criminal and religious elements in the screenplay], and the final result was rather heavy-handed. The whole treatment was lacking in humor and subtlety. I don’t mean that the film itself should have been humorous, but my own approach should have been more ironic, as in Psycho - a serious story told with tongue in cheek.

#156 - 7/9/2012

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) Vincente Minnelli

“Tootie! What’s wrong with Tootie?”

Why, her sister just sang her the most melancholy song ever, of course she’s bashing in the heads of snow people.

Meet Me In St. Louis is an unexpected treasure. This was my second viewing, and I could see owning this film. On the surface, it is a charming ode to family and the Midwest. But even the sweetest confections need to be tempered with some darkness, and this film certainly is.

The film centers around the Midwestern Smith family - mother, father, grandpa, maid, and five children - older sisters Rose and Esther (Judy Garland), brother Lon Jr., and younger sisters Agnes and Tootie. The younger sisters provide much of this darkness - both seem strangely obsessed with death and illness, and while this produces the funniest and most memorable lines, it is also strangely (and perfectly) unsettling. In one of the weirdest non sequitur scenes in cinema, Agnes and Tootie partake in a totally dark and bizarre Halloween ritual.

This is also Judy Garland at her best. Her voice swings and slides through some really delightful songs. Particularly of note is “Have yourself a merry little Christmas”, my favorite Christmas carol and a really beautiful (but melancholy) song, which was supposed to be even more of a downer in earlier versions. She’s particularly beautiful in this film, but still shows a bit of her youthful gawkiness. This translates into a really appealing funniness, but a deep vulnerability also shows through. Another layer of darkness also comes from this vulnerability, and from a knowledge of her troubled private life.

And just think - without this movie we might not have gotten **Liza Minelli**! (jazz hands)

#148 - 7/1/2012

North by Northwest (1959) Alfred Hitchcock

There’s something about North by Northwest that I just don’t like. I recognize that it’s a great film; it takes the same basic concept as The 39 Steps, builds it out, polishes it up, and adds Cary Grant. Sounds pretty foolproof to me.

But both times I’ve seen this one, something has left me cold. I felt more that I should like it, instead of actually liking it. I think that something may be Eva Marie Saint. This film really hinges on the relationship between Roger Thornhill and Eve Kendall, and I never get to the point where I want Roger to end up with her. Whereas with The 39 Steps, I adored watching Donat and Carroll together.

So my personal quibble aside, North by Northwest is still very entertaining, very funny, very exciting. The set pieces are great. I enjoyed reading about how Hitch wasn’t authorized to film at the UN, and so had to conceal a camera in the back of a truck to get some of the external footage. And the way that Hitch builds the tension in the crop duster scene is excellent - establishing time and space very clearly in order to build tension.

A quote from Hitchcock in Hitchcock - Truffaut displays his brilliance - “I’ll tell you how the idea came about [for the crop duster scene]. I found I was faced with the old cliche situation: the man who is put on the spot, probably to be shot. Now, how is this usually done? A dark night at a narrow intersection of the city. The waiting victim standing in a pool of light under the street lamp. The cobbles are ‘washed with the recent rains.’ A close-up of a black cat slinking along against the wall of a house. A shot of a window, with a furtive face pulling back the curtain to look out. The slow approach of a black limousine, et cetera, et cetera. Now, what was the antithesis of a scene like this? No darkness, no pool of light, no mysterious figures in windows. Just nothing. Just bright sunshine and a blank, open countryside with barely a house or tree in which any lurking menaces could hide.”

#143 - 6/23/2012