Seen for the first time in December 2012.
"Darling" is a very dull movie. Grade D.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Game of Thrones
Over the past two months, I've watched the first season of "Game of Thrones" on DVD and found it interesting to compare to the source material to which it is largely faithful. Some background: I read the five books that have thus far been written in this saga over this past summer at the suggestion of a woman upon whom I had certain designs. She said they were about "zombies and incest" and I thought that could be good, and I wanted to have something to talk about with her. So I picked up "Game of Thrones" at the bookstore with a certain skepticism upon seeing its cover.
I quickly realized that "Game of Thrones" was actually some kind of Renaissance Fair bullshit that I never would have read on my own. The prose itself is of the fantasy variety that I have difficulty imbibing without triggering a gag reflex. Nonetheless, I couldn't stop reading. Once I got a couple hundred pages in, I told myself I was going to finish the book, but I wasn't going to bother with the others. But then I bought the second one. Of course, by the end of the third one, which is the best of the lot, I was committed to finishing the series. Only to discover that the series hadn't been finished yet.
Despite this avid reading, I nonetheless thought the books were kind of terrible. My main complaints were of course the terrible fantasy prose, but also Martin's creepy sexual fantasies littering the pages. Also, basically, all the Bran chapters are probably what its like to read the Harry Potter books about 12 year old boys doing magic and shit. Basically a huge component of these books just doesn't interest me. Nonetheless, Martin has a talent for plot and the political intrigues especially are quite engaging.
In the end, I decided to watch the television show with some trepidation and rather low expectations. But the television show, it turns out, is really really great. All of Martin's flaws as a writer are gone, leaving only the things that he is good at: plot, intrigue, dialogue, like-able characters. The show is nothing short of awesome.
But let me also give Martin some credit. In hindsight, part of what I didn't enjoy about "Game of Thrones" when I read it had to do with my own assumptions. I assumed that Ned Stark was going to bring justice to the realm or whatever, and later at least that the arc of the story was about justice for the Starks. And so I read with the idea of basically waiting for the vindication of the good guys. And Stark seemed like a like-able enough character that I wanted to read to see this happen. But I expected a sort of typical fantasy story line.
In hindsight, Martin was totally upending my shit and I respect him for it. Ned Stark is actually kind of a boring asshole, and the Lannister's are great villains. We're not going to watch the Lannister's be brought to justice so much as we're going to wallow in their vanity and charismatic cruelty. Also, hats off to Martin for taking the evil ugly dwarf character and making him sympathetic. It's a similarly great move when you think about it.
Watching the show brought a lot of this home for me. While the books aren't really better than I thought they were, Martin is doing something more interesting than I thought he was. At least for the first three books anyway. Nonetheless, the show is a lot better. One of the ways that this is apparent is in the handling of the sex scenes. There are those who think HBO's tittiness is overkill. I disagree. In the books, the sex scenes are all basically creepy and off-putting, their luridness undone by Martin's flaws as a writer barely able to conceal his own erection. On the television show, these scenes are shot by talented film-makers. This makes all the difference.
It's not merely a difference between visual stimuli and the written word as a theoretical matter either. Henry Miller was talented at writing about fucking. And the sex scenes in the original Swedish (never saw the American remake) "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" film were off-putting in a similarly sophomorically lurid way. The rape scene in that, for example, was all about creepy boners, and the revenge scene doesn't justify those creepy boners, especially when the revenge scene itself is all about establishing Lisbeth Salander as a vehicle for fan-boy boners.
Which can bring us to Daenerys Targaryen and the difference between her rape on her wedding night to Khal Drogo in the HBO version and the reluctant seduction as depicted by Martin. I prefer the HBO depiction. It seems more honest to me. I've read commentary, that is convincing enough, that Martin's approach is more interesting and is more effective at illuminating Daenerys's (and it's a shame that no human being could look like the silver haired anime style cartoon character that I had imagined she looked like) character. But I feel more politically comfortable with what HBO chose to do with that wedding night scene. I think writing about the gentle and moist seduction of a just purchased child slave bride is... icky. Depicting it as the rape of a frightened child seems more True to me. But you can't win for losing George. Martin writing that as a rape probably would have grossed me out too.
All in all, I think Martin shouldn't even bother writing more books. I think he should just give HBO an outline for the rest of the saga, if he even need to be involved at all at this point, and let HBO sex it up as they see fit. It'd be better this way.
By the way, Joffrey's petulant, entitled whininess is so much more fun to watch on television than it was to read.
I quickly realized that "Game of Thrones" was actually some kind of Renaissance Fair bullshit that I never would have read on my own. The prose itself is of the fantasy variety that I have difficulty imbibing without triggering a gag reflex. Nonetheless, I couldn't stop reading. Once I got a couple hundred pages in, I told myself I was going to finish the book, but I wasn't going to bother with the others. But then I bought the second one. Of course, by the end of the third one, which is the best of the lot, I was committed to finishing the series. Only to discover that the series hadn't been finished yet.
Despite this avid reading, I nonetheless thought the books were kind of terrible. My main complaints were of course the terrible fantasy prose, but also Martin's creepy sexual fantasies littering the pages. Also, basically, all the Bran chapters are probably what its like to read the Harry Potter books about 12 year old boys doing magic and shit. Basically a huge component of these books just doesn't interest me. Nonetheless, Martin has a talent for plot and the political intrigues especially are quite engaging.
In the end, I decided to watch the television show with some trepidation and rather low expectations. But the television show, it turns out, is really really great. All of Martin's flaws as a writer are gone, leaving only the things that he is good at: plot, intrigue, dialogue, like-able characters. The show is nothing short of awesome.
But let me also give Martin some credit. In hindsight, part of what I didn't enjoy about "Game of Thrones" when I read it had to do with my own assumptions. I assumed that Ned Stark was going to bring justice to the realm or whatever, and later at least that the arc of the story was about justice for the Starks. And so I read with the idea of basically waiting for the vindication of the good guys. And Stark seemed like a like-able enough character that I wanted to read to see this happen. But I expected a sort of typical fantasy story line.
In hindsight, Martin was totally upending my shit and I respect him for it. Ned Stark is actually kind of a boring asshole, and the Lannister's are great villains. We're not going to watch the Lannister's be brought to justice so much as we're going to wallow in their vanity and charismatic cruelty. Also, hats off to Martin for taking the evil ugly dwarf character and making him sympathetic. It's a similarly great move when you think about it.
Watching the show brought a lot of this home for me. While the books aren't really better than I thought they were, Martin is doing something more interesting than I thought he was. At least for the first three books anyway. Nonetheless, the show is a lot better. One of the ways that this is apparent is in the handling of the sex scenes. There are those who think HBO's tittiness is overkill. I disagree. In the books, the sex scenes are all basically creepy and off-putting, their luridness undone by Martin's flaws as a writer barely able to conceal his own erection. On the television show, these scenes are shot by talented film-makers. This makes all the difference.
It's not merely a difference between visual stimuli and the written word as a theoretical matter either. Henry Miller was talented at writing about fucking. And the sex scenes in the original Swedish (never saw the American remake) "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" film were off-putting in a similarly sophomorically lurid way. The rape scene in that, for example, was all about creepy boners, and the revenge scene doesn't justify those creepy boners, especially when the revenge scene itself is all about establishing Lisbeth Salander as a vehicle for fan-boy boners.
Which can bring us to Daenerys Targaryen and the difference between her rape on her wedding night to Khal Drogo in the HBO version and the reluctant seduction as depicted by Martin. I prefer the HBO depiction. It seems more honest to me. I've read commentary, that is convincing enough, that Martin's approach is more interesting and is more effective at illuminating Daenerys's (and it's a shame that no human being could look like the silver haired anime style cartoon character that I had imagined she looked like) character. But I feel more politically comfortable with what HBO chose to do with that wedding night scene. I think writing about the gentle and moist seduction of a just purchased child slave bride is... icky. Depicting it as the rape of a frightened child seems more True to me. But you can't win for losing George. Martin writing that as a rape probably would have grossed me out too.
All in all, I think Martin shouldn't even bother writing more books. I think he should just give HBO an outline for the rest of the saga, if he even need to be involved at all at this point, and let HBO sex it up as they see fit. It'd be better this way.
By the way, Joffrey's petulant, entitled whininess is so much more fun to watch on television than it was to read.
Strangers on a Train - Alfred Hitchcock
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
"Strangers on a Train" is Hitchcock at his best. Tightly plotted and efficient delivery of suspense. Hitchcock working with source material from Patricia Highsmith is an exciting combination, and this totally delivers. Bruno is a great villain, some kind of homosexual socialite with an Oedipal complex, played very well by a creepy Kevin Spacey looking fellow.
The guy who plays Guy, on the other hand, is the worst actor in this. He is at times too staged and theatrical, ultimately delivering a stiff performance of a seemingly constipated character, though ultimately sympathetic and so no real harm done.
There are some nice laughs in here as well. Hitchcock doesn't always leaven things, but when he does he generally succeeds. The only boring part is the tennis game, which was supposed to be suspenseful, but could have been executed better. The scene on the merry-go-round on the other hand is one of the very best scenes in the history of cinema.
Ultimately, this is a perfect Hitchcock. Not as jaw-dropping as the first time you watch the end of "Vertigo," but certainly with more replay value and just as good as "Psycho" or "Rear Window." A tightly plotted thriller with no meandering or waste of any kind, plenty of tension, and a wonderfully creepy antagonist. Also this is historically probably the first film about a famous person and an unhinged fan. Grade A.
"Strangers on a Train" is Hitchcock at his best. Tightly plotted and efficient delivery of suspense. Hitchcock working with source material from Patricia Highsmith is an exciting combination, and this totally delivers. Bruno is a great villain, some kind of homosexual socialite with an Oedipal complex, played very well by a creepy Kevin Spacey looking fellow.
The guy who plays Guy, on the other hand, is the worst actor in this. He is at times too staged and theatrical, ultimately delivering a stiff performance of a seemingly constipated character, though ultimately sympathetic and so no real harm done.
There are some nice laughs in here as well. Hitchcock doesn't always leaven things, but when he does he generally succeeds. The only boring part is the tennis game, which was supposed to be suspenseful, but could have been executed better. The scene on the merry-go-round on the other hand is one of the very best scenes in the history of cinema.
Ultimately, this is a perfect Hitchcock. Not as jaw-dropping as the first time you watch the end of "Vertigo," but certainly with more replay value and just as good as "Psycho" or "Rear Window." A tightly plotted thriller with no meandering or waste of any kind, plenty of tension, and a wonderfully creepy antagonist. Also this is historically probably the first film about a famous person and an unhinged fan. Grade A.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
The Enforcer
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
At first, "The Enforcer" seems like a generic Bogart film and a generic film noir as well. This would be fine as generic noir and generic Bogart are both pretty enjoyable and certainly better than bad noir or stale Bogart. But the off-putting thing is watching these cops in the 1950's who have never heard of a murder referred to as a "contract" or a "hit" by bad guy types. Watching this in what is near to anno domini 2013, this sounds silly. Naive even. Certainly almost insultingly so.
Nevertheless, the film ultimately begins to sizzle. We can see the twist involve the cab-driver's daughter a mile away. Certainly the moment he says "big blue eyes," we cotton on to where this is going. And Bogart playing a recording back at least three times to drive that home, is not only overkill but unbelievable. Also it's really damn strange that someone shoots at this guy Rico through a window, and then as soon as he can he's sticking his head out another window. Like you think that'd shake a man up enough to keep him away from windows for a while.
But the end is so tense. And the whole story comes together in a nice entertaining way. It's not Bogart at his best, but this film is very watchable, and the ending is as tense and suspenseful as any ten minutes in film. Okay, maybe not as tense as the end of "Vertigo." But as tense as any ten minutes in nearly any other film. Grade B+.
At first, "The Enforcer" seems like a generic Bogart film and a generic film noir as well. This would be fine as generic noir and generic Bogart are both pretty enjoyable and certainly better than bad noir or stale Bogart. But the off-putting thing is watching these cops in the 1950's who have never heard of a murder referred to as a "contract" or a "hit" by bad guy types. Watching this in what is near to anno domini 2013, this sounds silly. Naive even. Certainly almost insultingly so.
Nevertheless, the film ultimately begins to sizzle. We can see the twist involve the cab-driver's daughter a mile away. Certainly the moment he says "big blue eyes," we cotton on to where this is going. And Bogart playing a recording back at least three times to drive that home, is not only overkill but unbelievable. Also it's really damn strange that someone shoots at this guy Rico through a window, and then as soon as he can he's sticking his head out another window. Like you think that'd shake a man up enough to keep him away from windows for a while.
But the end is so tense. And the whole story comes together in a nice entertaining way. It's not Bogart at his best, but this film is very watchable, and the ending is as tense and suspenseful as any ten minutes in film. Okay, maybe not as tense as the end of "Vertigo." But as tense as any ten minutes in nearly any other film. Grade B+.
Aaah! Zombies!
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
"Aaah! Zombies!" is almost a good movie. I really like the premise or at least it almost convinces me that this movie was made with a good idea in mind. But it's really uneven in quality. When the pace starts to lag it relies on silliness and a faux campiness to force itself past the plodding dullness. It more or less works though. In the right frame of mind, this is an entertainingly silly movie.
It's also completely forgettable. I've already forgotten how it ends, but for the vague notion that despite some heroic sacrifices there is more or less a happy ending. But I can't even remember if a certain key character survives or not. Don't care either.
I might also like this better if it seemed a little less professionally done. All of the flaws in this movie are in the script, in the sense that not every scene was thought out in a way that makes sense within the larger framework of the picture. This sort of film would work better with the sort of low-fidelity flaws one finds in good indie or schlock cinema.
One final observation I made while watching this film, the word "douchebag" used as an insult is used exclusively by people who are themselves douchebags. This is similar to the word "bama," where a similar principle applies. Other than that, I mostly found the characters in this movie to be more charismatic than not. Grade B-.
"Aaah! Zombies!" is almost a good movie. I really like the premise or at least it almost convinces me that this movie was made with a good idea in mind. But it's really uneven in quality. When the pace starts to lag it relies on silliness and a faux campiness to force itself past the plodding dullness. It more or less works though. In the right frame of mind, this is an entertainingly silly movie.
It's also completely forgettable. I've already forgotten how it ends, but for the vague notion that despite some heroic sacrifices there is more or less a happy ending. But I can't even remember if a certain key character survives or not. Don't care either.
I might also like this better if it seemed a little less professionally done. All of the flaws in this movie are in the script, in the sense that not every scene was thought out in a way that makes sense within the larger framework of the picture. This sort of film would work better with the sort of low-fidelity flaws one finds in good indie or schlock cinema.
One final observation I made while watching this film, the word "douchebag" used as an insult is used exclusively by people who are themselves douchebags. This is similar to the word "bama," where a similar principle applies. Other than that, I mostly found the characters in this movie to be more charismatic than not. Grade B-.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Violent Cop
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
"Violent Cop" moves at a glacial pace, but is nonetheless, very intense. It's like a Japanese Taxi Driver, except about a tough cop who cuts corners and plays a little rough with the criminals. The police officers he is forced to work with are all, to a man, complete jokes and total incompetents. The tough cop finds out one of his colleagues is pushing dope and we mentally prepare ourselves for the violence to come. But the violence builds slowly, and when it comes, it comes with a disturbing bang. Grade B.
"Violent Cop" moves at a glacial pace, but is nonetheless, very intense. It's like a Japanese Taxi Driver, except about a tough cop who cuts corners and plays a little rough with the criminals. The police officers he is forced to work with are all, to a man, complete jokes and total incompetents. The tough cop finds out one of his colleagues is pushing dope and we mentally prepare ourselves for the violence to come. But the violence builds slowly, and when it comes, it comes with a disturbing bang. Grade B.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
The Beyond - Lucio Fulci
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
In 1981, "The Beyond" must have represented a huge advancement in the realm of cinematic gore, or at the very least, an apotheosis; the accomplishment that purveyors of gore had been working toward since the days of Herschell Gordon Lewis in the mid 60's. I'm tempted to say that the gore in "The Beyond" is not gratuitous, but that would be absurd. Of course the gore is gratuitous, but it is also necessary. Gore is the raison d'etre of this film, after all. And a sense of relish and excitement pervades the work. The same sort of excitement that occurs when new ground is being broken.
Beyond the gore, "The Beyond" does everything a horror film is supposed to do. It frightens and startles. It has creepy moments and suspenseful ones. It does not merely depict frightened people being tortured and mutilated creating a backdrop against which we might assume a studied pose. It affects the audience in these traditional horror ways, and the gore complements the film rather than stands in for it, like so many films of the gore-fest and torture porn variety do today.
The gore by today's standards is probably cheap. Certainly filmakers since Fulci with bigger budgets have achieved a higher verisimilitude of human offal. But the gore is as real as it needs to be for the purposes of this film. And its made up for by Fulci's lingering camera which never misses a moment nor cuts away too quickly from any of the violence, producing a movie more unsettling and disturbing than most of today's sadistic magic shows. This movie really is something special. Grade A.
In 1981, "The Beyond" must have represented a huge advancement in the realm of cinematic gore, or at the very least, an apotheosis; the accomplishment that purveyors of gore had been working toward since the days of Herschell Gordon Lewis in the mid 60's. I'm tempted to say that the gore in "The Beyond" is not gratuitous, but that would be absurd. Of course the gore is gratuitous, but it is also necessary. Gore is the raison d'etre of this film, after all. And a sense of relish and excitement pervades the work. The same sort of excitement that occurs when new ground is being broken.
Beyond the gore, "The Beyond" does everything a horror film is supposed to do. It frightens and startles. It has creepy moments and suspenseful ones. It does not merely depict frightened people being tortured and mutilated creating a backdrop against which we might assume a studied pose. It affects the audience in these traditional horror ways, and the gore complements the film rather than stands in for it, like so many films of the gore-fest and torture porn variety do today.
The gore by today's standards is probably cheap. Certainly filmakers since Fulci with bigger budgets have achieved a higher verisimilitude of human offal. But the gore is as real as it needs to be for the purposes of this film. And its made up for by Fulci's lingering camera which never misses a moment nor cuts away too quickly from any of the violence, producing a movie more unsettling and disturbing than most of today's sadistic magic shows. This movie really is something special. Grade A.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Taken
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
What a terrible movie. This movie that is called "Taken" is an unrelenting mix of corny garbage and cliched action movie tropes. Also, Liam Neeson's acting is completely underwhelming. The action is competent and these kind of glossy thrillers are always competently made, if without distinguish. Paint by numbers action films can be enjoyable, but when all of the characters are ciphers and always saying the dumbest thing possible in any given situation, it becomes too irritating to enjoy. Grade D.
What a terrible movie. This movie that is called "Taken" is an unrelenting mix of corny garbage and cliched action movie tropes. Also, Liam Neeson's acting is completely underwhelming. The action is competent and these kind of glossy thrillers are always competently made, if without distinguish. Paint by numbers action films can be enjoyable, but when all of the characters are ciphers and always saying the dumbest thing possible in any given situation, it becomes too irritating to enjoy. Grade D.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Devil's Island Lovers - Jess Franco
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
There are many different types of Jess Franco movies and equally many different ways to enjoy them, but these are not on display in "Devil's Island Lovers." Or at least the version that I just watched, which was not dubbed but subtitled in Spanish and possibly a clean version. This is basically a straight women-in-prison film, but completely without exploitation. So this is Jess Franco making a relatively mainstream movie in the '70s. Literally anyone else could have made this movie. What we want out of a Franco film is something that only Jess Franco could have made, in one of the many ways that that is possible.
There is no avant garde here. No surrealism. No proto-Lynchian nonsense. No amusing, halfhearted incompetence. No exploitation. No sensuality. Nothing strange about this at all. Just a boring drama in a corrupt place, with guilt but no justice. Maybe it could have been a good noir in different hands. Grade D.
There are many different types of Jess Franco movies and equally many different ways to enjoy them, but these are not on display in "Devil's Island Lovers." Or at least the version that I just watched, which was not dubbed but subtitled in Spanish and possibly a clean version. This is basically a straight women-in-prison film, but completely without exploitation. So this is Jess Franco making a relatively mainstream movie in the '70s. Literally anyone else could have made this movie. What we want out of a Franco film is something that only Jess Franco could have made, in one of the many ways that that is possible.
There is no avant garde here. No surrealism. No proto-Lynchian nonsense. No amusing, halfhearted incompetence. No exploitation. No sensuality. Nothing strange about this at all. Just a boring drama in a corrupt place, with guilt but no justice. Maybe it could have been a good noir in different hands. Grade D.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Wreck It Ralph
Seen in the theater for the first time in December 2012.
"Wreck It Ralph," is cute and heartwarming. It's entertaining enough, and is probably funny enough for a child who is not yet old enough to think about being cool. For an adult there are some smirky moments, and it doesn't lazily rely on references to old games as its sole source of appeal to an older audience. And the emotional manipulation is effective enough to make us tear up on a few occasions.
There's a nagging idea that all of the ideas in this game world aren't completely worked out, though. Like Felix's abilities to fix things seems independent of the person playing the game. Like what kind of game is that? It's like the person playing the game just watches him fix things, rather than maneuvering him. There doesn't ever seem to be a scenario where Felix fails to beat Ralph. Am I being silly? Yes, but... There's an obvious tension here with the fact that we have these programmed creations, and also third parties that manipulate them, and also they have some kind of free will as well. I'm not sure that at the end of the day this jumbled stew makes any sense.
But sure, it doesn't have to. Cause this is a nice diversion for children, and it's a nice diversion for adults too. Maybe Sarah Silverman's character seriously grates, but maybe she's also a pretty cool image for little girls to look at. And the movie has a nice little message about being nice to people, cause maybe a whole lot of problems would have been solved in this if these characters had just been nicer to each other. Maybe that's pabulum. It probably is. And maybe adults should be shooting for something higher than mild diversion. I'm starting to think so. I'm starting to think it's way too easy to settle for diversion, and our culture is suffering for it. And on the one hand, I know I'm just being a cranky old man and that cranky old men always have been and always will be full of shit. But on the other hand, I really am cranky and I really am starting to wonder... Grade B.
"Wreck It Ralph," is cute and heartwarming. It's entertaining enough, and is probably funny enough for a child who is not yet old enough to think about being cool. For an adult there are some smirky moments, and it doesn't lazily rely on references to old games as its sole source of appeal to an older audience. And the emotional manipulation is effective enough to make us tear up on a few occasions.
There's a nagging idea that all of the ideas in this game world aren't completely worked out, though. Like Felix's abilities to fix things seems independent of the person playing the game. Like what kind of game is that? It's like the person playing the game just watches him fix things, rather than maneuvering him. There doesn't ever seem to be a scenario where Felix fails to beat Ralph. Am I being silly? Yes, but... There's an obvious tension here with the fact that we have these programmed creations, and also third parties that manipulate them, and also they have some kind of free will as well. I'm not sure that at the end of the day this jumbled stew makes any sense.
But sure, it doesn't have to. Cause this is a nice diversion for children, and it's a nice diversion for adults too. Maybe Sarah Silverman's character seriously grates, but maybe she's also a pretty cool image for little girls to look at. And the movie has a nice little message about being nice to people, cause maybe a whole lot of problems would have been solved in this if these characters had just been nicer to each other. Maybe that's pabulum. It probably is. And maybe adults should be shooting for something higher than mild diversion. I'm starting to think so. I'm starting to think it's way too easy to settle for diversion, and our culture is suffering for it. And on the one hand, I know I'm just being a cranky old man and that cranky old men always have been and always will be full of shit. But on the other hand, I really am cranky and I really am starting to wonder... Grade B.
My Favorite Wife
Seen for the first time in December 2012.
"My Favorite Wife" is a high stress movie. It traffics in the kind of comedy that makes you nervous. Like when you watch a rerun of "Three's Company" and Jack Tripper somehow has two dates at the same time and he keeps running back and forth between the two of them, and then all of a sudden Mr. Furley shows up and on top of it all he's got to keep him from finding out that he's not a homosexual, and you know that it's all just going to end up in disaster i.e.with Jack getting slapped in the face twice. I cringe more than I laugh.
This is not to say that it's bad, but if you're looking to watch Cary Grant be Cary Grant, well, Irene Dunn is the star of this vehicle. And she's a capable star, and this is a capable movie, though very oddly paced. The ending especially is drawn out and ends with a weird little whimper.
I think my favorite thing is that there are at least three scenes where someone is incredibly awkwardly caught in a big lie. There's no big payoffs in these scenes. There aren't a lot of laughs in this movie. Just a lot of stress and a lot of cringing. They stretch a thin premise as far as it will go, and then they juice it up with a male rival for Cary Grant. They barely milk that, and then they end it once the two leads decide to stop being passive aggressive with each other.
This is not, at the end of the day, one of Cary Grant's ten best performances. Nor is it one of his ten best movies. But for all of its flaws, it has a modern sensibility, trafficking in awkwardness and discomfort. It just botches all of its major scenes or what should be major scenes but end up underwhelming moments, such as Irene Dunn's big motherly reveal to her kids or Grant and Dunn's ultimate reconciliation. It's obviously the less heralded Grant and Dunn screwball for a reason. Grade B.
"My Favorite Wife" is a high stress movie. It traffics in the kind of comedy that makes you nervous. Like when you watch a rerun of "Three's Company" and Jack Tripper somehow has two dates at the same time and he keeps running back and forth between the two of them, and then all of a sudden Mr. Furley shows up and on top of it all he's got to keep him from finding out that he's not a homosexual, and you know that it's all just going to end up in disaster i.e.with Jack getting slapped in the face twice. I cringe more than I laugh.
This is not to say that it's bad, but if you're looking to watch Cary Grant be Cary Grant, well, Irene Dunn is the star of this vehicle. And she's a capable star, and this is a capable movie, though very oddly paced. The ending especially is drawn out and ends with a weird little whimper.
I think my favorite thing is that there are at least three scenes where someone is incredibly awkwardly caught in a big lie. There's no big payoffs in these scenes. There aren't a lot of laughs in this movie. Just a lot of stress and a lot of cringing. They stretch a thin premise as far as it will go, and then they juice it up with a male rival for Cary Grant. They barely milk that, and then they end it once the two leads decide to stop being passive aggressive with each other.
This is not, at the end of the day, one of Cary Grant's ten best performances. Nor is it one of his ten best movies. But for all of its flaws, it has a modern sensibility, trafficking in awkwardness and discomfort. It just botches all of its major scenes or what should be major scenes but end up underwhelming moments, such as Irene Dunn's big motherly reveal to her kids or Grant and Dunn's ultimate reconciliation. It's obviously the less heralded Grant and Dunn screwball for a reason. Grade B.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Klown
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
The humor in "Klown" is not so much witty, or well-timed, but cruel and mercilessly appalling. The male leads are, bluntly put, shitheads. They are ridiculous jackasses. They are two unredeemable cretins, who's lack of virtue, judgement and sense of responsibility is surpassed only by their complete idiocy, cast in a tale with a redemption arc.
On the one hand, we have the naive cretin, who's girlfriend is pregnant, but is considering an abortion because she doesn't believe he's capable of being a father. This guy is a like a Kafkaesque George Costanza, but somehow also a boring and timid bureaucrat. He, among other things, gives his mother-in-law a pearl necklace while she sleeps, flees his house during a burglary but leaves a sleeping child behind, and drags that same child along for a very adult canoe trip nicknamed the "tour de pussy."
On the other hand, we have the asshole cretin who presumes a couple of bottles of wine will allow him to have sex with high school girls, coins the term "tour de pussy" for this ridiculous canoe trip, and photographs that sleeping child's penis so that he'll "have something on him," in case the child talks about any of the shit that happens on this "tour de pussy" with his wife. Also he gets ass-fucked, possibly non-consensually.
Some of this works. Some of this doesn't. Clearly the movie is trying to one up itself in terms of playing shocking material for laughs. But its underwritten and more disquieting than funny. It's as if this movie was made by some psychologically troubled teen boys. There is no adult sensibility here. Grade B-.
The humor in "Klown" is not so much witty, or well-timed, but cruel and mercilessly appalling. The male leads are, bluntly put, shitheads. They are ridiculous jackasses. They are two unredeemable cretins, who's lack of virtue, judgement and sense of responsibility is surpassed only by their complete idiocy, cast in a tale with a redemption arc.
On the one hand, we have the naive cretin, who's girlfriend is pregnant, but is considering an abortion because she doesn't believe he's capable of being a father. This guy is a like a Kafkaesque George Costanza, but somehow also a boring and timid bureaucrat. He, among other things, gives his mother-in-law a pearl necklace while she sleeps, flees his house during a burglary but leaves a sleeping child behind, and drags that same child along for a very adult canoe trip nicknamed the "tour de pussy."
On the other hand, we have the asshole cretin who presumes a couple of bottles of wine will allow him to have sex with high school girls, coins the term "tour de pussy" for this ridiculous canoe trip, and photographs that sleeping child's penis so that he'll "have something on him," in case the child talks about any of the shit that happens on this "tour de pussy" with his wife. Also he gets ass-fucked, possibly non-consensually.
Some of this works. Some of this doesn't. Clearly the movie is trying to one up itself in terms of playing shocking material for laughs. But its underwritten and more disquieting than funny. It's as if this movie was made by some psychologically troubled teen boys. There is no adult sensibility here. Grade B-.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
C.H.U.D.
Seen for the second time in November 2012.
"C.H.U.D." was on cable television during the day time when I was a kid. I must've tried watching it a dozen times during the lazy days of summer vacation. It could never hold my attention though. In the intervening years it's become a sort of iconic cult classic. People bring up the movie, spit out the acronym and giggle. Truth is though, there's nothing particularly special about this movie.
Its merits are as follows: Daniel Stern, a ridiculous pandering explosion at the very end, John Goodman in a bit part, and what appears to me to be some actual serious effort by all involved. The problem is that it's boring. C.H.U.D. bores me in pretty much the exact same way that "Jaws" bores me. These movies have very different reputations, but I think there's some kind of structural similarity.
Frankly, also, I think C.H.U.D. may be too serious. It lacks the humor of the "Toxic Avenger" or the outright incompetence of "Troll II" or the charisma of the Evil Dead films. It could almost be played straight as a studio sci-fi horror release, but for a few amateur moments, like the confrontation between Bosch and the bad guy at the end. This isn't to its credit. I think it's better to be great camp than a poorly done and boring genre flick.
Ultimately it just feels like a bad idea that's been well executed, rather than a good idea that's been well but amateurishly executed (Or like "Troll II," a terrible but strange idea that's been incompetently but earnestly executed.) I do wonder why this is the only film under its director's belt. It doesn't seem poorly directed, and it made money. You would think he'd have the opportunity to keep working. I guess this is too good to be so bad it's good and not funny or thrilling enough to actually be a good movie. Grade B-.
"C.H.U.D." was on cable television during the day time when I was a kid. I must've tried watching it a dozen times during the lazy days of summer vacation. It could never hold my attention though. In the intervening years it's become a sort of iconic cult classic. People bring up the movie, spit out the acronym and giggle. Truth is though, there's nothing particularly special about this movie.
Its merits are as follows: Daniel Stern, a ridiculous pandering explosion at the very end, John Goodman in a bit part, and what appears to me to be some actual serious effort by all involved. The problem is that it's boring. C.H.U.D. bores me in pretty much the exact same way that "Jaws" bores me. These movies have very different reputations, but I think there's some kind of structural similarity.
Frankly, also, I think C.H.U.D. may be too serious. It lacks the humor of the "Toxic Avenger" or the outright incompetence of "Troll II" or the charisma of the Evil Dead films. It could almost be played straight as a studio sci-fi horror release, but for a few amateur moments, like the confrontation between Bosch and the bad guy at the end. This isn't to its credit. I think it's better to be great camp than a poorly done and boring genre flick.
Ultimately it just feels like a bad idea that's been well executed, rather than a good idea that's been well but amateurishly executed (Or like "Troll II," a terrible but strange idea that's been incompetently but earnestly executed.) I do wonder why this is the only film under its director's belt. It doesn't seem poorly directed, and it made money. You would think he'd have the opportunity to keep working. I guess this is too good to be so bad it's good and not funny or thrilling enough to actually be a good movie. Grade B-.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Female Trouble - John Waters
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
I cannot say that I was a fan of “Female Trouble.” It’s noticably weaker than both “Desperate Living,” and “Pink Flamingos.” I don’t think it’s a matter of the same schtick wearing thin upon retread. I think it’s a matter of too much Divine, who admittedly has the best performance, but from whom nonetheless the viewer could use a breather. There’s more of a traditional plot here than “Pink Flamingos,” but it still seems somehow more haphazard and made up as they went along. That was probably a strength in “Pink Flamingos,” which also had stronger set-ups for gross-out and revulsion, but is a weakness here.
I also think there is less joie de vivre in this film than in the films that preceeded and followed it. This is more just a matter of unadulterated bad-actors loudly chewing the scenery. The offensiveness of the other movies is hilarious, but also pointed and commenting. It’s campy, but it achieves the level of artistic. The offensiveness in “Female Trouble” on the other hand is just loud. I feel like anyone could do it. And truth be told, it doesn’t feel like it’s that far off from a lot of forgettable grindhouse of the era, just more self-conscious maybe. Grade C-.
I cannot say that I was a fan of “Female Trouble.” It’s noticably weaker than both “Desperate Living,” and “Pink Flamingos.” I don’t think it’s a matter of the same schtick wearing thin upon retread. I think it’s a matter of too much Divine, who admittedly has the best performance, but from whom nonetheless the viewer could use a breather. There’s more of a traditional plot here than “Pink Flamingos,” but it still seems somehow more haphazard and made up as they went along. That was probably a strength in “Pink Flamingos,” which also had stronger set-ups for gross-out and revulsion, but is a weakness here.
I also think there is less joie de vivre in this film than in the films that preceeded and followed it. This is more just a matter of unadulterated bad-actors loudly chewing the scenery. The offensiveness of the other movies is hilarious, but also pointed and commenting. It’s campy, but it achieves the level of artistic. The offensiveness in “Female Trouble” on the other hand is just loud. I feel like anyone could do it. And truth be told, it doesn’t feel like it’s that far off from a lot of forgettable grindhouse of the era, just more self-conscious maybe. Grade C-.
Silver Linings Playbook
Seen in the theater for the first time in November 2012.
At its core, "Silver Linings Playbook" is kind of a shitty romantic comedy. It nonetheless has some very funny jokes. You can kind of picture Adam Sandler playing the lead role, and the film this is most reminiscent of is "Punch Drunk Love," though not as good. It's entertaining as you watch it and the manipulation is effective even if you get tired of Jennifer Lawrence giving lectures on her emotions. Her performance is still good and I love her though. But still your brain knows that deep down this is not a good movie. The phrase to describe it is pandering sentimentality of the worst kind.
It reminds me of the distaste I get when I think of a film like "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Black Snake Moan." What these films have in common in my opinion is the impression that they started as a very good idea, and then got focus grouped into a kind of mawkish nausea. One senses their was once vision here, and that was diluted into some kind of lowest common denominator blandness. Still, it's easy enough to simply enjoy a movie like this for its charms which are inoffensive enough, but it never quite vanquishes the nagging empty feeling that despite the kooky crazy antics of the two mains and a tired Robert De Niro, this is a mass produced cliche of bland diversion in the romantic-comedy form. We hunger for it to subvert that form, but it never does. Grade C +.
At its core, "Silver Linings Playbook" is kind of a shitty romantic comedy. It nonetheless has some very funny jokes. You can kind of picture Adam Sandler playing the lead role, and the film this is most reminiscent of is "Punch Drunk Love," though not as good. It's entertaining as you watch it and the manipulation is effective even if you get tired of Jennifer Lawrence giving lectures on her emotions. Her performance is still good and I love her though. But still your brain knows that deep down this is not a good movie. The phrase to describe it is pandering sentimentality of the worst kind.
It reminds me of the distaste I get when I think of a film like "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Black Snake Moan." What these films have in common in my opinion is the impression that they started as a very good idea, and then got focus grouped into a kind of mawkish nausea. One senses their was once vision here, and that was diluted into some kind of lowest common denominator blandness. Still, it's easy enough to simply enjoy a movie like this for its charms which are inoffensive enough, but it never quite vanquishes the nagging empty feeling that despite the kooky crazy antics of the two mains and a tired Robert De Niro, this is a mass produced cliche of bland diversion in the romantic-comedy form. We hunger for it to subvert that form, but it never does. Grade C +.
Strange Circus
Seen for the first time in November 2012
I watched "Strange Circus" in a state of hungover exhaustion. It's creepy but not unsettling, and entertaining. My mind was sort of fogged over while watching it, plus the dvd started skipping and the subtitles let out for ab few minutes during the climactic reveal. I'm pretty sure I've got the story, but I don't know what's "real" and what's real. I liked it more or less. It's entertaining, and despite the disturbing content strikes the right tone. Much better than this same director's "Suicide Club." Grade B.
I watched "Strange Circus" in a state of hungover exhaustion. It's creepy but not unsettling, and entertaining. My mind was sort of fogged over while watching it, plus the dvd started skipping and the subtitles let out for ab few minutes during the climactic reveal. I'm pretty sure I've got the story, but I don't know what's "real" and what's real. I liked it more or less. It's entertaining, and despite the disturbing content strikes the right tone. Much better than this same director's "Suicide Club." Grade B.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Young Aphrodites
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
“Young Aphrodites” is an art film. It’s based on an old Greek story set about 200 years BC, and as a practical matter is about the sexual discovery of a couple of winsome, androgynous, Greek adolescents. It’s beautifully and artistically shot and with enough skin for some to fairly find disturbing. I’m caught between opposing camps on that score. Let’s just say that I’m hopelessly American. But I’m trying.
At the end of the day, it’s a very evocative and well-shot movie, even if I didn’t particularly enjoy it and don’t really feel the need to see it again. Grade B-.
“Young Aphrodites” is an art film. It’s based on an old Greek story set about 200 years BC, and as a practical matter is about the sexual discovery of a couple of winsome, androgynous, Greek adolescents. It’s beautifully and artistically shot and with enough skin for some to fairly find disturbing. I’m caught between opposing camps on that score. Let’s just say that I’m hopelessly American. But I’m trying.
At the end of the day, it’s a very evocative and well-shot movie, even if I didn’t particularly enjoy it and don’t really feel the need to see it again. Grade B-.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Throne of Blood - Akira Kurosawa
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
“Throne of Blood” is essentially “Macbeth” directly translated into Japanese and then re-translated into English with subtitles, which probably accounts for why it’s such a good adaptation, naturally losing the archaic language and iambic pentameter of Shakespeare’s original without succumbing to the goofiness that occurs when attempts at an update are made.
There’s an element to the end, that I don’t remember in “Macbeth” that reminds me of “Ozymandias,” namely the notice saying “here lies the ruins of spiderweb castle.” This, in my opinion opinion provides another layer of richness to the film, bringing by implication the same things that “Ozymandias” invokes. Namely, the way time and years erase even the greatest of men. The meaningless in the end of the pursuit of great power and greatness itself, to be ultimately forgotten and have your great monuments lie in ruin.
That may just be me however, and it may be in the original Macbeth as well. I haven’t read it since high school. I must make time to re-read Shakespeare and perhaps even catch some productions, though the thought of watching any actor’s performance of Hamlet fills me with nausea despite the fact that I do hold that play in deep regard. Anyway, how much I liked this due to Kurosawa, and how much I liked it due to Shakespeare, I can’t say. The scene with the arrows at the end is remarkable. Grade A.
“Throne of Blood” is essentially “Macbeth” directly translated into Japanese and then re-translated into English with subtitles, which probably accounts for why it’s such a good adaptation, naturally losing the archaic language and iambic pentameter of Shakespeare’s original without succumbing to the goofiness that occurs when attempts at an update are made.
There’s an element to the end, that I don’t remember in “Macbeth” that reminds me of “Ozymandias,” namely the notice saying “here lies the ruins of spiderweb castle.” This, in my opinion opinion provides another layer of richness to the film, bringing by implication the same things that “Ozymandias” invokes. Namely, the way time and years erase even the greatest of men. The meaningless in the end of the pursuit of great power and greatness itself, to be ultimately forgotten and have your great monuments lie in ruin.
That may just be me however, and it may be in the original Macbeth as well. I haven’t read it since high school. I must make time to re-read Shakespeare and perhaps even catch some productions, though the thought of watching any actor’s performance of Hamlet fills me with nausea despite the fact that I do hold that play in deep regard. Anyway, how much I liked this due to Kurosawa, and how much I liked it due to Shakespeare, I can’t say. The scene with the arrows at the end is remarkable. Grade A.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Force of Evil
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
“Force of Evil” is a nice crisp film noir. Though it may seem a run-of-the-mill example of the genre at first glance, there is something in the film elevating it to a solid second tier status of film noir, just below the heavyweights like “The Big Sleep,” or “The Postman Always Rings Twice.” This is a very solid film, reminiscent, probably due to the issues of brotherhood, to “On the Waterfront.” They have similar endings even, though for some reason the “On the Waterfront” ending works whereas this one feels hollow and hokey.
It’s not the first good film noir with a bad ending though. Bad endings actually tended to happen as often as they were avoided. And though the whole basic plot of “Force of Evil” from start to finish is more or less discernible early on, it doesn’t stop the movie from commanding your attention. The background characters are as quirky as you’d want and everything is ably performed. I might like John Garfield better in this than in “The Postman Always Rings Twice.” The dialogue and the voice-overs are sharp as well. All in all, other than the ending, there’s no weak aspect of this noir, and plenty of strengths. Grade B+.
“Force of Evil” is a nice crisp film noir. Though it may seem a run-of-the-mill example of the genre at first glance, there is something in the film elevating it to a solid second tier status of film noir, just below the heavyweights like “The Big Sleep,” or “The Postman Always Rings Twice.” This is a very solid film, reminiscent, probably due to the issues of brotherhood, to “On the Waterfront.” They have similar endings even, though for some reason the “On the Waterfront” ending works whereas this one feels hollow and hokey.
It’s not the first good film noir with a bad ending though. Bad endings actually tended to happen as often as they were avoided. And though the whole basic plot of “Force of Evil” from start to finish is more or less discernible early on, it doesn’t stop the movie from commanding your attention. The background characters are as quirky as you’d want and everything is ably performed. I might like John Garfield better in this than in “The Postman Always Rings Twice.” The dialogue and the voice-overs are sharp as well. All in all, other than the ending, there’s no weak aspect of this noir, and plenty of strengths. Grade B+.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
“Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity” is exactly the movie one expects from its title and the year of its production (1987). It’s good enough but skip-able as silly, deliberately campy sci-fi, if kind of lazy in execution. It’s also a pretext for depicting scantily clad women. In this aspect, it excels. Grade B.
“Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity” is exactly the movie one expects from its title and the year of its production (1987). It’s good enough but skip-able as silly, deliberately campy sci-fi, if kind of lazy in execution. It’s also a pretext for depicting scantily clad women. In this aspect, it excels. Grade B.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
The Awful Dr Orlof - Jess Franco
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
“The Awful Dr. Orlof” is early Jess Franco, when he was making are by today’s standards respectable b movies, and before he became one of the pioneers of euro-sleaze or developed a reputation as an effort-free hack in some circles and an surrealist, experimental film-maker in others. This is a traditional, old-school, b-movie horror, competently done. It’s kind of boring by today’s standards, assuming one doesn’t have an enthusiasm for 50’s black and white horror. Franco’s later, “The Diabolical Dr. Z” is better, and is evidence for the idea that Franco is a talented director. This is merely evidence that Franco is a capable director who could do more mainstream fare if given the opportunity and inclination. Grade B-.
“The Awful Dr. Orlof” is early Jess Franco, when he was making are by today’s standards respectable b movies, and before he became one of the pioneers of euro-sleaze or developed a reputation as an effort-free hack in some circles and an surrealist, experimental film-maker in others. This is a traditional, old-school, b-movie horror, competently done. It’s kind of boring by today’s standards, assuming one doesn’t have an enthusiasm for 50’s black and white horror. Franco’s later, “The Diabolical Dr. Z” is better, and is evidence for the idea that Franco is a talented director. This is merely evidence that Franco is a capable director who could do more mainstream fare if given the opportunity and inclination. Grade B-.
House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski
Read for the first time in November 2012.
My favorite thing about “House of Leaves” is the conceit, which is extraordinarily clever. An old guy having written a criticism of a supposed documentary about a strange house dies. The writing is discovered by an aspiring tattoo artist who adds his own journalistic thoughts to the proceedings.
One aspect of this that I don’t like is how it can make it difficult for me to level certain criticisms. This gets difficult to talk about, for there are conceits within conceits operating in this novel. But to try, for example, the notion that Zampano’s purported work is a commentary on “The Navidson Project” completely falls apart due to his excessive summarizing of the on-screen events. This is acknowledged within the novel, but even still, it is too much. Second how long does this “Navidson Project” purport to be? 20 hours? 40 hours? It’s obvious that there is no film at all, but that Zampano is merely telling the fictional Navidson story through the use of a creative conceit.
And of course, by saying this, I’m criticizing Zampano, but I don’t know if I’m criticizing Danielewski. We know outright that even within the fictional world that Zampano and Johnny Truant live in, that this film does not exist. Danielewski creates a character who creates a successful but not entirely convincing conceit. I just feel like the whole thing would have worked even better if every element of the conceit within a conceit was believable in every way. If we really could believe that Zampano’s work was in fact the commentary it purports to be.
I don't know if a third person is capable of untangling those preceding two paragraphs. But I give up on it.
Nonetheless, Zampano’s description of what happens in that film is the best part of the book. This is basically a very good Stephen King story, and I think it’s interesting that we care more about this fake family and what happens in this fake story than we do about the purportedly “real” characters, like Johnny Truant and Zampano. And of course this is absurd because they aren’t any more real than the Navidsons just a step removed. I also especially enjoyed reading Johnny Truant’s letters from his mother. Those were a highlight for me.
The structure is something I have some ambivalence about. There are times when I think putting three lines of text on a whole page enhances the experience of reading that novel. It enhances the suspense of some of the most suspenseful moments. Some of the details about crossing things out or words or pages lost to ink splots or whatever enhances a kind of fake authenticity, as well. And I think it also does a good job of reflecting structurally the mental deterioration of both Zampano and Johnny Truant. But it also is annoying at times, especially all of the footnote games around the most boring part of this thing and also, basically all of exploration number five.
I also don’t know how I feel about Johnny Truant as a character. I don’t know that I ever fully bought into him. Except to say, he’s made to be an exceptionally good liar/story-teller and that creates another layer of question for this thing in my mind. Also the portrayal of his mental deterioration was some goddamned good writing in my opinion. But outside of that, he lacked charisma to me, and I don’t know how to take his lack of education on one hand and his sometimes exceptional vocabulary on the other. I definitely feel like the Navidson’s story is the one that draws our affinities and creates suspense.
One other neat trick, I thought was how everyone goes crazy. Zampano says in his work, people who thought about and wrote about the Navidson project developed mental problems. He apparently develops them himself. Johnny Truant starts to read Zampano’s work and writes about it himself. Then we see him go crazy, too. And of course, here we are reading it ourselves, book in hand. Do we take the admonition not to think about it? Do we dare write about it? Shall we start down that spiral staircase or turn back?
It’s a cool trick. This is a pretty cool book. Like I said, it’s like a good Stephen King novel, but with experimental flourishes. I don’t call it a gimmick. But I am curious as to where in terms of writing Danielewski’s passions lie.
My favorite thing about “House of Leaves” is the conceit, which is extraordinarily clever. An old guy having written a criticism of a supposed documentary about a strange house dies. The writing is discovered by an aspiring tattoo artist who adds his own journalistic thoughts to the proceedings.
One aspect of this that I don’t like is how it can make it difficult for me to level certain criticisms. This gets difficult to talk about, for there are conceits within conceits operating in this novel. But to try, for example, the notion that Zampano’s purported work is a commentary on “The Navidson Project” completely falls apart due to his excessive summarizing of the on-screen events. This is acknowledged within the novel, but even still, it is too much. Second how long does this “Navidson Project” purport to be? 20 hours? 40 hours? It’s obvious that there is no film at all, but that Zampano is merely telling the fictional Navidson story through the use of a creative conceit.
And of course, by saying this, I’m criticizing Zampano, but I don’t know if I’m criticizing Danielewski. We know outright that even within the fictional world that Zampano and Johnny Truant live in, that this film does not exist. Danielewski creates a character who creates a successful but not entirely convincing conceit. I just feel like the whole thing would have worked even better if every element of the conceit within a conceit was believable in every way. If we really could believe that Zampano’s work was in fact the commentary it purports to be.
I don't know if a third person is capable of untangling those preceding two paragraphs. But I give up on it.
Nonetheless, Zampano’s description of what happens in that film is the best part of the book. This is basically a very good Stephen King story, and I think it’s interesting that we care more about this fake family and what happens in this fake story than we do about the purportedly “real” characters, like Johnny Truant and Zampano. And of course this is absurd because they aren’t any more real than the Navidsons just a step removed. I also especially enjoyed reading Johnny Truant’s letters from his mother. Those were a highlight for me.
The structure is something I have some ambivalence about. There are times when I think putting three lines of text on a whole page enhances the experience of reading that novel. It enhances the suspense of some of the most suspenseful moments. Some of the details about crossing things out or words or pages lost to ink splots or whatever enhances a kind of fake authenticity, as well. And I think it also does a good job of reflecting structurally the mental deterioration of both Zampano and Johnny Truant. But it also is annoying at times, especially all of the footnote games around the most boring part of this thing and also, basically all of exploration number five.
I also don’t know how I feel about Johnny Truant as a character. I don’t know that I ever fully bought into him. Except to say, he’s made to be an exceptionally good liar/story-teller and that creates another layer of question for this thing in my mind. Also the portrayal of his mental deterioration was some goddamned good writing in my opinion. But outside of that, he lacked charisma to me, and I don’t know how to take his lack of education on one hand and his sometimes exceptional vocabulary on the other. I definitely feel like the Navidson’s story is the one that draws our affinities and creates suspense.
One other neat trick, I thought was how everyone goes crazy. Zampano says in his work, people who thought about and wrote about the Navidson project developed mental problems. He apparently develops them himself. Johnny Truant starts to read Zampano’s work and writes about it himself. Then we see him go crazy, too. And of course, here we are reading it ourselves, book in hand. Do we take the admonition not to think about it? Do we dare write about it? Shall we start down that spiral staircase or turn back?
It’s a cool trick. This is a pretty cool book. Like I said, it’s like a good Stephen King novel, but with experimental flourishes. I don’t call it a gimmick. But I am curious as to where in terms of writing Danielewski’s passions lie.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
The Dictator - Sacha Baron-Cohen
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
I think I liked “The Dictator” more than the consensus of initial reactions. I thought there were many funny moments, despite a good bit of admittedly lazy humor. It was better than “Bruno,” which was more annoying than funny. But I didn’t laugh as much as I laughed at “Borat.” Though I wonder if I would still laugh at “Borat” if I saw it today.
Either way, “Borat” was something uniquely funny upon arrival, not just funnier than most other comedies, but so seemingly different as well that its difficult to rank as a comedy and not just as a funny aberrant form that exists outside of the comedy movie paradigm. Like if I ranked the top 5 movies of the first decade of the twenty first century, I’d tentatively include in some order that I have not determined: “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle,” “Zoolander,” “Super Troopers,” “Wet Hot American Summer,” “Observe and Report,” or maybe if I could only include half of a movie, I’d find a way to fit in the first third of “Superbad.” “Borat” is as consistently and thoroughly funny as many of these movies, but somehow it is just so different an entity from these movies it would never occur to me to think of it when drawing up that list.
“The Dictator” is a more traditional comedy. And on that score, it succeeds with plenty of laughs. It is, for example, much better than “Don’t Mess With the Zohan,” to which one might draw comparisons. “The Dictator” is unsurprisingly politically lazy and, though I love Anna Faris maybe more than any woman alive, a lot of the humor surrounding her character is hackishly lazy. And yet the repeated jokes of the “are you having a boy or an abortion” vein drew laughs from me. Grade B+.
I think I liked “The Dictator” more than the consensus of initial reactions. I thought there were many funny moments, despite a good bit of admittedly lazy humor. It was better than “Bruno,” which was more annoying than funny. But I didn’t laugh as much as I laughed at “Borat.” Though I wonder if I would still laugh at “Borat” if I saw it today.
Either way, “Borat” was something uniquely funny upon arrival, not just funnier than most other comedies, but so seemingly different as well that its difficult to rank as a comedy and not just as a funny aberrant form that exists outside of the comedy movie paradigm. Like if I ranked the top 5 movies of the first decade of the twenty first century, I’d tentatively include in some order that I have not determined: “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle,” “Zoolander,” “Super Troopers,” “Wet Hot American Summer,” “Observe and Report,” or maybe if I could only include half of a movie, I’d find a way to fit in the first third of “Superbad.” “Borat” is as consistently and thoroughly funny as many of these movies, but somehow it is just so different an entity from these movies it would never occur to me to think of it when drawing up that list.
“The Dictator” is a more traditional comedy. And on that score, it succeeds with plenty of laughs. It is, for example, much better than “Don’t Mess With the Zohan,” to which one might draw comparisons. “The Dictator” is unsurprisingly politically lazy and, though I love Anna Faris maybe more than any woman alive, a lot of the humor surrounding her character is hackishly lazy. And yet the repeated jokes of the “are you having a boy or an abortion” vein drew laughs from me. Grade B+.
Monday, November 19, 2012
The Cat O'Nine Tails - Dario Argento
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
Between this and “Suspiria,” I don’t really understand Dario Argento’s outsized reputation. I liked this a lot better than I liked “Suspiria.” This is legitimately riveting and suspenseful. But still, it doesn’t stand out amongst the works of Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci, or Umberto Lenzi in the world of giallo. To its credit, when the mystery is solved, the plot is a bit convoluted but it isn’t the Rube Goldberg machine similar films often end up seeming plotwise. This is a better than average thriller, but I feel like Argento needs to be either grimmer, grimier, or sleazier or else he’s just second-rate Italian Hitchcock. By which I mean, one either needs to be as good as Hitchcock or they need to compensate somehow, cause this is a nice film and all, but it’s no “Vertigo.” Grade B+.
Between this and “Suspiria,” I don’t really understand Dario Argento’s outsized reputation. I liked this a lot better than I liked “Suspiria.” This is legitimately riveting and suspenseful. But still, it doesn’t stand out amongst the works of Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci, or Umberto Lenzi in the world of giallo. To its credit, when the mystery is solved, the plot is a bit convoluted but it isn’t the Rube Goldberg machine similar films often end up seeming plotwise. This is a better than average thriller, but I feel like Argento needs to be either grimmer, grimier, or sleazier or else he’s just second-rate Italian Hitchcock. By which I mean, one either needs to be as good as Hitchcock or they need to compensate somehow, cause this is a nice film and all, but it’s no “Vertigo.” Grade B+.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Suicide Club
Seen for the first time in November 2012.
This movie was a little boring and unengaging to me. Toward the end, I began to lean on the fast-forward button a bit, so it would probably be unfair to say its a little non-sensical. Though, I think its more concerned about atmosphere than sense in and of its self. The real drawback is it’s concept of cool is, at this moment in time, probably at its nadir in terms of fashion. Movies should probably not even try to be cool however. Grade C.
This movie was a little boring and unengaging to me. Toward the end, I began to lean on the fast-forward button a bit, so it would probably be unfair to say its a little non-sensical. Though, I think its more concerned about atmosphere than sense in and of its self. The real drawback is it’s concept of cool is, at this moment in time, probably at its nadir in terms of fashion. Movies should probably not even try to be cool however. Grade C.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
A cool Million - Nathaneal West
Read for the first time in October 2012.
Nathaneal West is in my opinion one of the greatest American writers of the twentieth century based on the strength of “Dear Miss Lonelyhearts” and “The Day of the Locust.” “A Cool Million” is a lesser work. A sometimes clever and occasionally funny satire, it is of its time. It’s part “Candide” spoof and part Horatio Alger spoof that works to indict the American dream. It retains some resonance today, particularly in these times of economic woe, but the humor and the politics are unfortunately dated. The phrase, “International Jewish Bankers,” for example, is funny only for its quaintness as an opinion to ridicule. That paranoia has been replaced by different paranoias.
But how good might this have been in its own day? Probably not as good as Sinclair Lewis’s “Babbitt,” but nonetheless certainly darker. This is filled with straight up black comedy that makes Sinclair Lewis’s anti-Americanisms seem downright wholesome. Rape, forced prostitution, racism and mutilation are played for jokes here. And that might be something I would frown upon in a different context, but here ambition and reputation meet the method of ironic distance in an equilibrium that does not trouble me.
There’s one very good line where the main character’s mentor tells him “My boy, I believe I once told you that you had an almost certain chance to succeed because you were born poor and on a farm. Let me now tell you that your chance is even better because you have been to prison.” Another is the exchange where the main character expresses his innocence to a crime and the prosecutor responds “So was Christ and they nailed him.” Those were probably the two memorable laugh out loud moments for me.
All in all, this is an entertaining novella, if a bit slight, but nonetheless indicative of the potential West would later reveal. The darkness of some of the content is probably the most notable thing about it though.
Nathaneal West is in my opinion one of the greatest American writers of the twentieth century based on the strength of “Dear Miss Lonelyhearts” and “The Day of the Locust.” “A Cool Million” is a lesser work. A sometimes clever and occasionally funny satire, it is of its time. It’s part “Candide” spoof and part Horatio Alger spoof that works to indict the American dream. It retains some resonance today, particularly in these times of economic woe, but the humor and the politics are unfortunately dated. The phrase, “International Jewish Bankers,” for example, is funny only for its quaintness as an opinion to ridicule. That paranoia has been replaced by different paranoias.
But how good might this have been in its own day? Probably not as good as Sinclair Lewis’s “Babbitt,” but nonetheless certainly darker. This is filled with straight up black comedy that makes Sinclair Lewis’s anti-Americanisms seem downright wholesome. Rape, forced prostitution, racism and mutilation are played for jokes here. And that might be something I would frown upon in a different context, but here ambition and reputation meet the method of ironic distance in an equilibrium that does not trouble me.
There’s one very good line where the main character’s mentor tells him “My boy, I believe I once told you that you had an almost certain chance to succeed because you were born poor and on a farm. Let me now tell you that your chance is even better because you have been to prison.” Another is the exchange where the main character expresses his innocence to a crime and the prosecutor responds “So was Christ and they nailed him.” Those were probably the two memorable laugh out loud moments for me.
All in all, this is an entertaining novella, if a bit slight, but nonetheless indicative of the potential West would later reveal. The darkness of some of the content is probably the most notable thing about it though.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Seventh Seal - Ingmar Bergman
This may very well be - and by head and shoulders at that - the very best film I have ever seen in my life. I can think of no other movie which attempts this amount of philosophical weight, and yet is also this good, and also this beautifully shot. Or to paraphrase someone else, what either movie has attempted this depth, and not been destroyed by these same attempts at depth?
Beyond the obvious heft of its ideas, like all great art and not mere treatise, it depicts the human experience without resort to sensationalism or sentimentality, or any other dodge. Bergman “paints things as they are,” and people can do as they like. The word amazing is oft abused. I do not abuse it here. It is an amazing accomplishment and filled with resonance. Grade A.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner
Read for the second time in October 2012.
I’ve long held this, along with “The Sound and the Fury” as my two favorite Faulkner novels, though “The Sound and the Fury” is the one which I have found myself re-reading with periodic frequency. This is possibly because so much of the first half of the “The Sound and the Fury” is difficult to comprehend. I still don’t quite know where Benji gets castrated for example, and I’ve read the book probably five times.
“Absalom, Absalom!” is just as difficult it turns out. Faulkner’s prose, which has no equal that I am aware of, frequently ascends into some kind of exalted gibberish, more difficult to parse than anything in “The Sound and The Fury.” I don’t try to parse it all. I somehow absorb the story and relish in the beauty of his writing and let my incomprehension evaporate into the ether.
But what I love about Faulkner, at his best, is the way real human suffering is imposed from real human character’s attempts to assert control over a universe in which they have none. There is, from the onset, a palpable sense of fated doom. This is Shakespeare brought to the South. One parallel between “Absalom, Absalom!” and “The Sound and the Fury” which may account for the reverence for which I hold each, is the ineffectual internal indecisiveness of Henry Sutpen and Quentin Compson (in “The Sound and The Fury” specifically though he appears in both). Faulkner does an exceedingly good job of depicting internal struggle and anguish in his novels, of characters torn by internal conflict.
I’m also impressed by Faulkner’s mockery of manifestations of human vanity, things like honor and glory. He writes a nice soap opera, and the richness of the southern background. Of pride mixed with the humiliation of defeat. Of a way of life that he criticizes bitterly and yet still will not fully repudiate. Faulkner’s depiction of the human condition is so focused and honest, it’s jaw-dropping. He’s never swayed by sentimentality or misplaced anguish, but seems to always be endeavoring for the truth despite the futility involved.
With a keen eye, Faulkner grapples with and depicts the truth as honestly as he possibly can, and yet despite that truth, human emotion and suffering are still treated with importance. He does not take the god’s eye view of humanity where nihilism is taken to its most logical end and suffering is a source of lighthearted diversion. He gives us the world as it is, lack of meaning and futility and all, and allows us to feel the self-created anguish of real characters without ironic distance, and thus all the more poignant because we know just how futile it is.
This is why Faulkner is the best to me, and why the post-modernists with their educated references and empty intellectualism and comic-book tones are only entertainment. I distinguish between literature for intellectuals and literature as art. And, to me, Faulkner is literature as art, and the very best of it at that.
I’ve long held this, along with “The Sound and the Fury” as my two favorite Faulkner novels, though “The Sound and the Fury” is the one which I have found myself re-reading with periodic frequency. This is possibly because so much of the first half of the “The Sound and the Fury” is difficult to comprehend. I still don’t quite know where Benji gets castrated for example, and I’ve read the book probably five times.
“Absalom, Absalom!” is just as difficult it turns out. Faulkner’s prose, which has no equal that I am aware of, frequently ascends into some kind of exalted gibberish, more difficult to parse than anything in “The Sound and The Fury.” I don’t try to parse it all. I somehow absorb the story and relish in the beauty of his writing and let my incomprehension evaporate into the ether.
But what I love about Faulkner, at his best, is the way real human suffering is imposed from real human character’s attempts to assert control over a universe in which they have none. There is, from the onset, a palpable sense of fated doom. This is Shakespeare brought to the South. One parallel between “Absalom, Absalom!” and “The Sound and the Fury” which may account for the reverence for which I hold each, is the ineffectual internal indecisiveness of Henry Sutpen and Quentin Compson (in “The Sound and The Fury” specifically though he appears in both). Faulkner does an exceedingly good job of depicting internal struggle and anguish in his novels, of characters torn by internal conflict.
I’m also impressed by Faulkner’s mockery of manifestations of human vanity, things like honor and glory. He writes a nice soap opera, and the richness of the southern background. Of pride mixed with the humiliation of defeat. Of a way of life that he criticizes bitterly and yet still will not fully repudiate. Faulkner’s depiction of the human condition is so focused and honest, it’s jaw-dropping. He’s never swayed by sentimentality or misplaced anguish, but seems to always be endeavoring for the truth despite the futility involved.
With a keen eye, Faulkner grapples with and depicts the truth as honestly as he possibly can, and yet despite that truth, human emotion and suffering are still treated with importance. He does not take the god’s eye view of humanity where nihilism is taken to its most logical end and suffering is a source of lighthearted diversion. He gives us the world as it is, lack of meaning and futility and all, and allows us to feel the self-created anguish of real characters without ironic distance, and thus all the more poignant because we know just how futile it is.
This is why Faulkner is the best to me, and why the post-modernists with their educated references and empty intellectualism and comic-book tones are only entertainment. I distinguish between literature for intellectuals and literature as art. And, to me, Faulkner is literature as art, and the very best of it at that.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Pink Flamingos - John Waters
For a long time I never watched this movie because I had assumed that I had already seen it, recalling it as sort of mid-period glossier John Waters, in the vein of “Hairspray” or “Cry Baby” which were the sort of films I watched with my parents growing up. But no this is much different. It’s great, and at times appalling, but nonetheless always engaging.
Essentially this movie is a mix of a parody of sensationalism (both artistic and media driven), a mockery of bourgeoise outrage, and with unrelenting gratuitous grossness. There are at least three scenes in this movie in which something is depicted which I would honestly prefer that I had never seen: that anus trick, Divine explicitly going down on that dude, and that coda for which this film is so infamous.
Nevertheless I loved it. I can understand why this is regarded as John Waters’s masterpiece, though I still prefer “Desperate Living.” They have the same energy and the same sensibility, but “Desperate Living” lacks the disgustingness, though is just as committed to the same assault on bourgeoise attitudes, and with the same vivid dialogue.
An important point to make about Waters in general, and Pink Flamingos, in particular; what sets him apart is not the shocking and offensive material in and of itself, but the fact that it is not delivered with the grim seriousness of his contemporaries and so many others who have made movies in bad taste over the years. John Waters makes these films with an impish glee that somehow makes being disgusted almost delightful. It’s like Kurt Vonnegut drawing a picture of his own asshole with childish glee, but Waters shows you a real asshole and then he makes it do things you would never want to watch someone’s asshole do. Not as bad as goatse.cx but still. The dialogue, by the way, is amazing. Grade A.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Le Corbeau - Henri-Georges Clouzot
For most of this film, I was convinced the teenage girl was the one behind the letters. So convinced that I thought it was flaw not to make it explicit, elsewise people might think it a weak mystery rather than fairly strong suspense. I was wrong though. In fairness the mystery aspect is still not a strength of this movie in my opinion. Who is Le Corbeau doesn’t really matter. Especially since it seems as though everyone in the town probably wrote at least a letter or two as Le Corbeau.
Its strengths, I suppose, lie in its damning of typical human pettiness and its opposition to bourgeois morality. But it’s not all urbane moralizing either. It’s an engaging movie, that while not thrilling, is engrossing. It is suspenseful. It’s also very dialogue driven. I would call it theatrical. A little bit of Agatha Christie. A little bit of Hitchcock.
I can’t say I understand why the Gestapo would care about this film one way or the other. Don’t care to find out either. I don’t think it’s relevant to my engagement with this film. Just a good suspenseful film filled with small-town folks being provincial. Grade B.
Moontide
I had to force myself to watch this film. I don’t really know why I thought it was so important to watch it. I knew early on it was unexceptional, and I don’t believe anyone on the planet thinks its in any way essential or that there would ever be a moment in any person’s life, much less my own, where a failure to see this particular movie would ever be noticed much less regretted. Yet I forced myself to watch it anyway, past the point where I wanted to stop. For very little reward.
Jean Gabin reminds me of Tommy Wiseau at times in this. It’s the accent plus a certain carefree elan. Maybe the unrealistic love and romance is a part of it too. Merely reminiscent though, not as crude.
There are some holes in the plot. Ida Lupino goes from suicide to half of a happy couple with no transition or explanation. Also this turns out to be a total bummer of a movie. Sometimes that’s a good thing, but this movie seems too trivial to justify its grim moments. At best, this movie is watchable, but nothing more. Grade C-.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Where The Sidewalk Ends - Otto Preminger
This movie begins in an unassuming manner. It’s straight underwhelming and then it gets kind of good. The last ten minutes are great. But otherwise it’s sort of like watching an old tv show on the boring channel for 90 minutes. Dana Andrews plays his role really well throughout. Gene Tierney, on the other hand, doesn’t have anything interesting to do. The main villain has a good moment toward the end, but he otherwise doesn’t have anything interesting to do either. The supporting cast was probably huffing carbon monoxide between takes. At it’s top level best, this uninspired film is still sort of noir-by-the-numbers. I love the ending because I love noir, but this thing almost never has any sort of pulse. Grade C+
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Maid Droid
Seen for the first time in October 2012.
An unrelenting hatred of women underlies every aspect of this movie, from the sympathetic portrayal of male otakus’ sexual relationships with dolls to the reductionist and misogynistic portrayal of all real life women (cock-hungry, cold and cruel) to the otaku’s apparent idea of the ideal woman (servile, without will or intelligence, and innocently sexual). In this dystopian world 10% of all men (aggressive, promiscuous, and virile) satisfy 100% of all women, while the remaining 90% of men (meek, caring and loving) have loving sexual relationships with robot lolitas.A scene of retributive violence by one such otaku against two taunting women is especially disturbing and damning. Even the existence of rape machines and a plausible (accepting certain basic premises of the movie) story explaining their existence provides no redemption for this simplistic and underthought, un-erotic pornography. Grade F.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Beat The Devil - John Huston
This is a surprisingly run-of-the-mill movie, considering the names involved: John Huston, Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre, and Truman Capote worked on the script. Bogart plays Bogart here, which should be good, but if his oeuvre were filled with films like this, he never would have become a star. In a strange way his character is the weak part of this film. Better than the British broad, but together, she and Bogart’s rote romantic gestures taste like milk a couple days past its expiration.
Lorre and the guy from “The African Queen” and the British bounder and even Lollobrigida all put in great secondary performances. Really, all of the secondary performances are pretty great. They should have been put to use in a great movie. But Bogart is kind of stale in this. This is a stale Bogart performance in a stale Bogart movie, and while the rest of the cast is great, you can’t make a great dish with freezer burnt meat. The romance with the British woman, especially, was distinctly lacking in chemistry.
You could point to a line or two and argue that Bogart pulls his weight here. But that’s rather missing the point. Overall, the whole Bogart thing just feels tired in this movie, and all these years later there’s no particular reason for that to be the case. Hollywood and the star system were just really attracted to formulas in those days I suppose. Sometimes it worked better than others. This one not so much. Movie does get stronger as it goes, and I liked the ending. Grade C+.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Love Exposure
This film was a revelation. It’s a four hour epic movie with a mish-mash of styles and a stunning display of craft. In this regard it’s reminiscent of a seamless viewing of the “Kill Bill” movies. And though it delivers the same rare, once in a decade cinematic experiences, thematically it’s completely different. It’s about love, religion, and perversion. Everything comes together perfectly in this amazing movie that’s an equal blend of seriousness and sillyness; of high brow concept, pop-culture entertainment, and cheap thrills.
It’d be a cliche to say this film could only have come from Japan, but it’s true. It has that unique mix of the good, the violent, the silly and the pervy, but also with an ambition and a depth that is essential to the most serious movies. This film is about love at its most powerful as a concept. It is about religion. It is about family. It’s about sin. It’s about peeking at Japanese girls in their panties. It’s about being human. There are tonal shifts throughout. A serious movie turns into a silly movie, turns into a disturbing and sad movie, turns into a triumph.
Jaw-dropping. Spectacular. This movie cannot be praised hyperbolically. It delivers and delivers and delivers. The depth cannot be neatly summarized. One scene of particular note is the recitation of Corinthians 13. Holy Shit. Holy Shit. That scene… I’ve heard those verses before, whatever… I never realized before that it was such poetry. Such beautiful language. Such beautiful thoughts. What a powerful fucking scene. And that such a scene can fit so seamlessly (and seemlessly) and relevantly in a movie about a guy who’s the master of upskirt photography… Only in Japan? Words fail me. Grade A.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Seven Psychopaths
I liked this better than “In Bruges,” but then I really didn’t like “In Bruges” as much as every other person I’ve ever met did. I thought “In Bruges” was -shrug- okay, but not as good as, say, “Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels.” For some reason, though, “In Bruges” was a movie for people to say ridiculous things like “It was more substance than style,” or “it’s deeper than a Tarantino film.” I think people who say things like this are deeply, unsympathetically stupid.
I think the conceit that we’re getting anything more than stylishly entertaining thrills from Seven Psychopaths is so much harder to maintain when the nods at deepness are so transparently superficial that they themselves become little more than a stylish thrill in and of themselves. It’s like turning the idea of being thoughtful and spiritual into just another bright and shiny object for mesmerizing the apes. This shit is as deep as the deepness of nazi-hating in “Inglorious Basterds,” but Tarantino’s not oblivious to what he’s doing.
You know what would have been ballsy? If instead of the Vietnamese psychopath, he had been an Iraqi psychopath. Too political? Too distracting? Why get hung up on fresh horrors of our own complicity when we wanna be safe in the womb enjoying some cool violence and humorous dialogue amongst hoodlums. Maybe in 30 years, your children will be able to watch that movie without reflexively triggering some sort of Manichean hallucination.
This was “Adaptations”-esque. There are funny parts. Christopher Walken and Sam Rockwell are great. There’s some good violence too. This is more entertaining than “In Bruges.” Yes, it does try to comment on its own genre. It does try to give us a parody of sorts. It thinks its smarter by doing so. It’s okay. It’s okay that its too proud of itself. It’s entertaining for exactly the same reasons as “Snatch,” or whatever. Those reasons are good enough for me. Grade B-.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
New Year's Day
This is not the sort of movie I usually like to spend my time watching. Little (as in slight) indie projects, particularly those that are British or New Zealand or Australian, which are like little personal, emotional statements are pretty much not for me, generally speaking. Or more accurately, as I said before, not really how I like to spend my time. So much chaff, and when you do find the wheat, it’s not really that good. And I could be watching a loud movie with obvious entertainment value. Judge if ye will, but I’m not embarrassed by not being entertained by other people’s narcissism.
I ended up really liking this one though. Granted, in the beginning, I was rolling my eyes, and really asking myself how I allowed myself to get stuck watching one of these movies. It starts off maudlin. And there’s a real lack of needed charisma among the two main characters. And the humor is terrible. This is not funny. I found myself craving a little Hollywood pizzazz, whatever that means. I thought of all kinds of little ways to tweak this thing. To juice it up. But you know, somewhere in there, it turns into this really moving, understated, realistic film about two kids who are having a hard time coping with their mourning. And I really wouldn’t tweak a thing, except maybe make the two main characters have fewer moments where you think they might start making out. I’m glad I watched this, but not so glad that I’m gonna try hard to see more like it. Grade A.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A Cat in Paris
I enjoyed maybe 10 minutes of this 60 minute film, basically from the moment the criminals discover and start chasing the girl until the moment that Nico gets arrested. Otherwise this is pretty dull, with too much expository dialogue, and a mother who’s every emotion about her dead husband, her daughter, and her husband’s killer is irritating. The kid is silent throughout the film, but at the end pointlessly summarizes the whole plot reminding us just how irritating most of this movie was. Just in case anyone had forgotten. The gangsters were menacing briefly during the high point of this movie, but otherwise were as shoddily written and irritating as everything else. Some “Goodfellas” and “Reservoir Dogs” riffs completely fall flat. Grade D.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Sukeban Boy
“Sukeban Boy” is a strange movie, and it’s strange in a way that is uniquely Japanese. There is something extremely infantile about the humor of this movie that is markedly Japanese. In a lot of ways this feels like a PG-13 movie, but for all of the tits and perversions. And that’s the other thing that is strange about this movie in a particularly Japanese way. It’s not just full of nudity. It’s full of pervert Japanese style perversions. The kink is out in the open in that culture in a way that it isn’t in America. Like it’s not just nudity. There’s a lot of European nudo (this is some slang I just made up) movies. But the Japanese often make a nudo movie to a much more twisted result. It’s like they go ahead and publicly indulge the fantasies that most of us would be embarrassed for other people to find out about. Though it may not be tasteful, I kind of admire it.
I don’t even think titillation is the raison d’etre of this thing. That’s part of what makes this movie so strange, even by Japanese standards. I was sort of put off by most of the movie. There’s too much androgyny in the main character for my taste for half-clad whimsically violent frolics. But there’s a pretty feel good ending. It’s kind of sappy, but it’s a strange Japanese sap that’s really enthusiastic and reminds you of little kids and their irrational joys for simple things and it just kind of makes you happy. All in all, it turns into this weird transgender love-story, made more weird because the lovers not just a minute before were engaged in a Darth Vader/Luke Skywalker style fight to the death. Like the hero and the villain decide to stop fighting and become lovers instead. And both of them having accidentally taken hormones are rendered permanently transgendered. Also, the main character’s father is accidentally killed in their melee, and while that’s sad, no one really cares, because… shrug, it’s otherwise just such a gushingly cute happy ending.
I honestly don’t know how to rate this thing though. I’m not really even sure if I think it’s good or bad. Like the plot is paper-thin. And they just keep throwing up comic book style sects of villains for no discernible reason. It really is just all about topless women, goofy often scatological jokes, and silly violence until it’s all wrapped up with a silly moral about gender. Like this movie is the equivalent of just dangling shiny objects before an idiot for about sixty minutes, and most of those shiny objects aren’t really even that shiny. The violence in this movie for example, is actually really poor. There’s never any tension or thrill either, and it’s more appalling than it is funny. And some of the women in this movie might benefit from doing some extra squats at the gym. But still, I pretty much enjoyed watching this. And if someone with the right sensibility was looking to enjoy a “bad movie” night, they could do a lot worse than to pick this one. I’m emptying my mind and looking into my heart, and I find myself giving this a grade B.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Revenger
This movie is terrible. But it’s terrible in a good way. It’s marvelous 80’s cheese. With cheesy 80’s saxophones and cheesy 80’s soundtrack. There is not a single good performance in this movie, though there were some funny ones. And it was incompetently made. Also the script is bad. Probably too the editing. Even the sound editing is bad. I know it’s bad, because I don’t even normally notice the sound editing of a movie.
All that said, there is also never a dull moment. Albeit, that may be because any particular not dull moment was not dull only because it was either poorly conceived, or poorly executed, or just otherwise so noticeably bad that you wonder how it wasn’t cut from the film in the first place. There is also some action to this “action-thriller,” which theoretically is not dull, but the action is often undercut by the incompetent directing. If this movie had a better commitment to exploiting its tits and ass opportunities it would be a perfect grade A cheesy ass 80’s movie. As it is, I have to score it an A-.
That Uncertain Feeling - Ernst Lubitsch
That Uncertain Feeling is a frustrating comedy in the screwball tradition. It begins promising enough, reminiscent of Ibsen’s “The Doll House,” with promise of a story where a man is forced to confront the idea that his wife is an adult human being, rather than a cute little ball of exuberant naivety to be wholesomely condescended to. As it turns out though, that women deserves all of the condescension that any man, even the most primitive, could muster. And then some.
She allegedly falls in love with the most ridiculous fucking two-bit piano player and seeks a divorce from her husband, who as it turns out is a decent enough guy, with some unflappable charm, who’s a good provider. This piano player is played by Burgess Meredith. I didn’t know exactly who that was, but I knew the name. I thought maybe he was Archie Bunker. He’s actually Mickey from the Rocky movies.
Anyway, this piano player, who in the 21st Century we recognize as having a bit of a homosexual persona, is pretty much an unfathomable jerk. And the fact that the wife in this stays on the line for so long stretches belief to the point where we either have to conclude that this unconvincing “romance” is complete bullshit or we pretty much have to start hating women a little bit, just on principle.
Nonetheless, if we suspend our disbelief, there’s some wit to this. Some fast talking verbal humor. Burgess Meredith plays the clown well enough. It’s not laugh out loud or anything. And the dramatic tension is undone by the lack of plausibility. There’s no way, in a 1940’s movie, does this broad not get back with her husband, when the good-guy/boorish shithead distinction becomes so clearly drawn.
Meredith does at one point say to the woman, upon her first meeting him and telling him he’s funny, something like “I’m funny? I’m a clown?” Which you know, Joe Pesci in “Goodfellas” and all, caught my attention. Also in this era of no fault divorce, I was momentarily confused by their discussion of a correspondent in the divorce proceedings, until I gleaned they were actually talking about a co-respondent, someone they needed to drag into the proceedings for fake affair purposes, cause they didn’t have no fault divorces in those days. Then I chuckled at my confusion. Grade C.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Somewhere in The Night
This is really high quality film noir. The only thing it’s lacking is any kind of star power, but it’s every bit as good as something like “the Maltese Falcon,” though less celebrated all of these years later, and maybe on the verge of being forgotten. This makes me wonder what it’s reception was like upon release. Did it seem like just another noir amongst a surfeit of noir, overlooked amidst the gluttony, requiring the passage of time and the change of fashions for its quality to emerge from the background? Maybe similar to the 70’s funk of Betty Davis rediscovered early in this century?
If so, I hope it’s re-discovered before it’s completely forgotten. It’s hard though, because only noir fans tend to watch old nor, even good old noir, and our numbers dwindle, I feel. It’s hard to imagine this movie receiving the fanfare it deserves at this point. It deserves better than to be relegated to genre-specificists, though that’s probably where its fate lies.
What makes it good? A good mystery. A good twist. Nothing is telegraphed. Some of the hard-boiled dialogue seems like it was lifted straight from the novel, as of course it was, but you can just picture the words on the page and that’s a bit detrimental. Though maybe if Bogart were delivering the lines he would have pulled it off. It’s hard to say. This nonetheless holds your attention and we’re riveted by the mystery. I don’t really buy the romance and the movie could do without it, but all of the suspense pays off, and that’s what matters. Grade A.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The Dwarf - Par Lagerkvist
Read for the first time in September/October 2012.
It took me over 4 weeks to read the first hundred or so pages of this book, not because they were difficult to read, but because the book failed to engage or interest me in that time. I then, finally, just knocked out the last hundred or so pages late last night in a couple of hours.
My thoughts on the book are a lot different upon finishing it than what I was thinking during the first hundred pages or so, where I was bored by this evil little dwarf ‘s thoughts. He was at times funny in an over the top way, but the book felt more like an exercise than a work of literature. The downside was that I felt like George R.R. Martin, of all people, had created a more interesting character. The upshot was that I ruminated a little bit about what it even means to be evil.
What does “evil” mean in the real world? Or is this only a concept that exists in comic books and cartoons? Can we appropriate it into a real life concept in a more nuanced fashion? If we do, is it basically, practically speaking, a word we use to describe people who are not like we are and who are a threat to us in some material way?
This is an idiosyncratic response I suppose. There is nothing in this book intended to take you on this route. Instead, the dwarf is evil in a comic book way, but also in a realistic human way. If you took every negative human impulse and refused to balance it with any sense of human empathy or charity, then you would get the dwarf. There’s a quote on the cover that says “The evil in the dwarf’s nature is in ours, too-is universal.” And that is true. I think it does a good job of giving us that half of our own story.
The last hundred or so pages are far better than the first hundred or so though. Things start to actually happen. There is war and intrigue and murder. The dwarf is a lot funnier as well. Also, was no longer quite so convinced that Tyrion Lannister was a more complicated and engaging character. There are some scenes where the dwarf paints human beings as misanthropically as anything Swift did. Especially his revulsion at watching them indulge their appetites. The novel is justified on the back end, but it’s weakness remains the fact it seems to have been conceived as a writing exercise.
It took me over 4 weeks to read the first hundred or so pages of this book, not because they were difficult to read, but because the book failed to engage or interest me in that time. I then, finally, just knocked out the last hundred or so pages late last night in a couple of hours.
My thoughts on the book are a lot different upon finishing it than what I was thinking during the first hundred pages or so, where I was bored by this evil little dwarf ‘s thoughts. He was at times funny in an over the top way, but the book felt more like an exercise than a work of literature. The downside was that I felt like George R.R. Martin, of all people, had created a more interesting character. The upshot was that I ruminated a little bit about what it even means to be evil.
What does “evil” mean in the real world? Or is this only a concept that exists in comic books and cartoons? Can we appropriate it into a real life concept in a more nuanced fashion? If we do, is it basically, practically speaking, a word we use to describe people who are not like we are and who are a threat to us in some material way?
This is an idiosyncratic response I suppose. There is nothing in this book intended to take you on this route. Instead, the dwarf is evil in a comic book way, but also in a realistic human way. If you took every negative human impulse and refused to balance it with any sense of human empathy or charity, then you would get the dwarf. There’s a quote on the cover that says “The evil in the dwarf’s nature is in ours, too-is universal.” And that is true. I think it does a good job of giving us that half of our own story.
The last hundred or so pages are far better than the first hundred or so though. Things start to actually happen. There is war and intrigue and murder. The dwarf is a lot funnier as well. Also, was no longer quite so convinced that Tyrion Lannister was a more complicated and engaging character. There are some scenes where the dwarf paints human beings as misanthropically as anything Swift did. Especially his revulsion at watching them indulge their appetites. The novel is justified on the back end, but it’s weakness remains the fact it seems to have been conceived as a writing exercise.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Loaded Guns - Ursula Andress
The primary appeal of this Italian comedy/crime movie is Ursula Andress’s body in various stages of undress. It’s nice enough, but then it seems as if the film makers should have made a bigger commitment to sensuality. The camera never ogles the way we would want it to. Instead we get a commitment to comedic action and the paint-by-numbers plot of a drug war between feuding gangsters.
The best bit is maybe the lecherous, homicidal priest, who’s with the good guys, and also the head villain who has the only funny line: “You outsmarted us all you dirty bitch.” It seems the film-makers know well enough that this sort of movie is often laughed at, so they did their best to produce deliberate laughs. A lot of silly chases and a funny carnival soundtrack. This is at the cost of whatever menace the heavies might have produced. As is, it’s too light to be a suspenseful crime thriller, not funny enough to be a comedy, and not sexy enough to be erotic. Made in the 70’s in Italy and overdubbed in English, maybe it just hasn’t held up well. Grade C.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Girl Boss Revenge: Sukeban
Seen for the first time in October 2012.
This is a pretty good 70’s exploitation revenge movie from Japan. There’s a rivalry between two girl gangs in a city run by a ruthless male gang. There’s a love interest, and some betrayal and intrigue. The two girl gangs settle their differences and avenge themselves on the male gang. Some okay-ish 70’s asian flesh in here, and good violence. Grade B.
This is a pretty good 70’s exploitation revenge movie from Japan. There’s a rivalry between two girl gangs in a city run by a ruthless male gang. There’s a love interest, and some betrayal and intrigue. The two girl gangs settle their differences and avenge themselves on the male gang. Some okay-ish 70’s asian flesh in here, and good violence. Grade B.
Girl Boss Revenge: Sukeban
This is a pretty good 70’s exploitation revenge movie from Japan. There’s a rivalry between two girl gangs in a city run by a ruthless male gang. There’s a love interest, and some betrayal and intrigue. The two girl gangs settle their differences and avenge themselves on the male gang. Some okay-ish 70’s asian flesh in here, and good violence. Grade B.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Looper - Rian Johnson
Seen for the first time in the theater in October 2012.
I liked this a lot. I loved “Brick,” and so greatly anticipated another film with Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt working together. It’s not quite as unrelentingly great as “Brick,” but it has moments a few moments of style and cool that nearly match it. The dude who played Dode in “Brick” is great in this as well.
I’m not saying I didn’t like the cute little kid in this, but I feel like maybe there has never been a great movie with a cute little kid in it, unless the Cohen’s “True Grit,” counts. Cute little kids as movie elements are sappy and pandering in a bad way. And so when they appear in even a good movie, one can’t help having a reflexive eye-roll. We feel a bit nudged into the movie-for-parents category despite the otherwise stylish sci-fi thuggery.
That is for sure the closest thing this movie has for a weakness though, and not the flimsiness of the premise about loopers closing their loops, or of course time-travel headaches. It’s troubling at first, but once the film kicks into gear, we look past it easy enough and enjoy the thrills. The ending doesn’t completely make sense to me either. I mean, how did the events on that farm change the future to the extent that Bruce Willis gets sent back in time with a bag over his head and is shot by Joseph Gordon-Levitt (this happens about 20 mins into the film)?
Well the thing is, I don’t really care We get a happy ending. And we can feel sappy about a little kid and his mom. And we don’t have to be brought down by Joseph Gordon-Levitt/Bruce Willis’s resulting anguish in this version of the future, unless we want to. I just don’t know how Bruce Willis knows to go gently into that good night this time around.
I think it’s that ending though which keeps me from loving this movie. The little kid element is too much for me. The ending feels James Cameron, which is not a good thing. Also I like Joseph Gordon-Levitt a lot as an actor. I somewhat wish they made Bruce Willis look like him instead of the other way around. There’s something about that dude made up to look like Bruce Willis that seems vaguely mongoloidal.
Nonetheless this is a very good and entertaining movie. It’s an action film where I don’t actually care about the action, except for the kid’s telekinetic powers. But instead its strengths lie in the way characters interact. Rian Johnson has a very real talent for what I will call stylized thug interaction in these incredibly contrived worlds he creates. It does not matter that, even by time travel movie standards, the gaps in logic are gaping and the incoherence is enormous. Grade B+.
I liked this a lot. I loved “Brick,” and so greatly anticipated another film with Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt working together. It’s not quite as unrelentingly great as “Brick,” but it has moments a few moments of style and cool that nearly match it. The dude who played Dode in “Brick” is great in this as well.
I’m not saying I didn’t like the cute little kid in this, but I feel like maybe there has never been a great movie with a cute little kid in it, unless the Cohen’s “True Grit,” counts. Cute little kids as movie elements are sappy and pandering in a bad way. And so when they appear in even a good movie, one can’t help having a reflexive eye-roll. We feel a bit nudged into the movie-for-parents category despite the otherwise stylish sci-fi thuggery.
That is for sure the closest thing this movie has for a weakness though, and not the flimsiness of the premise about loopers closing their loops, or of course time-travel headaches. It’s troubling at first, but once the film kicks into gear, we look past it easy enough and enjoy the thrills. The ending doesn’t completely make sense to me either. I mean, how did the events on that farm change the future to the extent that Bruce Willis gets sent back in time with a bag over his head and is shot by Joseph Gordon-Levitt (this happens about 20 mins into the film)?
Well the thing is, I don’t really care We get a happy ending. And we can feel sappy about a little kid and his mom. And we don’t have to be brought down by Joseph Gordon-Levitt/Bruce Willis’s resulting anguish in this version of the future, unless we want to. I just don’t know how Bruce Willis knows to go gently into that good night this time around.
I think it’s that ending though which keeps me from loving this movie. The little kid element is too much for me. The ending feels James Cameron, which is not a good thing. Also I like Joseph Gordon-Levitt a lot as an actor. I somewhat wish they made Bruce Willis look like him instead of the other way around. There’s something about that dude made up to look like Bruce Willis that seems vaguely mongoloidal.
Nonetheless this is a very good and entertaining movie. It’s an action film where I don’t actually care about the action, except for the kid’s telekinetic powers. But instead its strengths lie in the way characters interact. Rian Johnson has a very real talent for what I will call stylized thug interaction in these incredibly contrived worlds he creates. It does not matter that, even by time travel movie standards, the gaps in logic are gaping and the incoherence is enormous. Grade B+.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Panic Beats - Paul Naschy
Paul Naschy is pretty big deal in Spanish Horror. This is a perfectly serviceable low budget horror film. Reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe. The intrigue is a bit much, but I like intrigue more than I like straight horror, so it’s a welcome dose, and the demand for suspension of disbelief is not too rigorous. Plus this has a good ending, where the real ghost comes along and slaughters the last conspirator standing. Makes good use of diaphanous nightgowns and naked women as well, making this a nice example of a sexy and low-key horror film from the era (70’s to early 80’s). Grade B.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Serial Mom - John Waters
This is John Waters at his finest, and John Waters at his finest, see “Desperate Living,” is a brilliant film maker. Kathleen Turner is hilarious in this. The concept of making the traditional June Cleaver mom into an insane serial killer was brilliant. There’s a sensibility here that I don’t remember having been developed at this point in the early 90’s. Stereotypical sitcom mom’s were being questioned by shows like Roseanne and Married with Children, but I don’t recall effective parody of the sitcom style. I think John Waters was the first to do this. It’s more commonplace now.
The celebration of Serial Killers as celebrities is sort of less effective to me. That sort of social commentary is intrinsically off-putting to me, but Waters isn’t preachy or opinionated in any apparent way, and so the absurdity and the spectacle provide entertainment and off-kilter humor and it never irritates with didacticism.
Waters seems like too genuinely a warm person with a generous view toward people to get too serious to have fun. He laughs at the hangups of the straight-laced and revels in the weirdness of the truly weird, but it always seems to come from a place of genuine affection for humanity that I really admire, and wish I could share. I suppose this is as close to a horror movie that Waters will ever get, and I love that it’s so playful and funny. Grade A.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Yo-Yo Girl Cop
This was an unremarkable Japanese comic book movie. It’a genre I usually like, but this was light on the action and light on the fun. First hour or so is pretty unremarkable. Lots of gothy Japanese school kids. The ending is pretty good and almost redeeming, but the villain is completely nonsensical and literally comic book silly. I didn’t like the sequel Yo-Yo Sexy Girl Cop much either, but at least in that one, all of those Japanese school girls in their Japanese-school-girl costumes were put to a titillating use. Grade C.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Death Walks At Midnight
This movie is pretty convoluted in the end. The plot barely holds together, and you might describe the villain’s evil plan as implausible. Nonetheless it’s a pretty engaging and suspenseful giallo. Also apparently in Italy, when you call the police and the specific police officer who you ask for isn’t there, you don’t bother talking to any of the other police officers, no matter how urgently you might need the police. That’s a slight presumption on my part. One can imagine a more urgent police need than the one in the scene to which I’m referring. But I think a reasonable person might consider that watching a man you saw murder someone get roughed up by a couple of hoods a situation of relatively urgent police need. At least a reasonable American would. And here I give the movie the benefit of the doubt, for it’s possibly just as strange an omission in Italy as it is in America. I may never know. Nonetheless, I liked this movie. Grade B.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Sabrina - Billy Wilder
You really have to hand it to Billy Wilder. Did he ever make a movie anything less than great? This starts off kind of slow, and has some weaknesses due to the theatrical nature of its source material. But shit, I thought it was going to be one kind of cliched romance, but it turns into a different kind of cliched romance, but the clichedness does not matter because of the absolute mastery in the telling of the cliche. Audrey Hepburn is just stunning. Her beauty is painful to gaze upon at times.
Also a great performance by Bogart in what is a multifaceted role and which must have required much delicacy to effectively pull off all of the aspects and countenances. On the one hand, the man has to be a cold-blooded businessman ruthless and heartless in motivation, but he must also be able to pull off the misty-eyed love interest well enough to make the final sentimentality effective. We need to believe in both characters at the end. His character evolves, but does not transform. The movie would not work if we could only believe in him as one character but not the other.
Extraneously, William Holden seems a little old for his role. Not that Bogey doesn’t, but Bogey’s age is acknowledged by the movie. This’d be a good movie to stay in and watch with a girl on a rainy Saturday night. Grade A.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Shock - Mario Bava
This movie is pretty damn good. It starts off seemingly like a rather pedestrian Italian giallo, distinguished only by a notable oedipal creepiness. A woman and her son and his stepfather (her second husband) move back into the house she lived in with her first husband (his father) who died by suicide seven years prior. The house may be haunted, but also the woman may be crazy. She isrecovering from a breakdown of her own tied to her husband’s death. Also the boy may be possessed by demons or the ghosts that haunt the house or whatever.
The boy subtly at first and then more manifestly begins to terrorize his mother. There is a blatant eroticism to this haunting. At one point, he appears to dry hump her. He caresses her in her sleep. He steals a pair of her underwear and then tears it to shreds. But then again the mother may also just be crazy. Again, the movie seems like a rather pedestrian giallo at this point, slowly building in tension and atmosphere.
But then shit goes nuts with a big twist, and we climax with a frenzy. The last twenty minutes are pretty damn bad ass. It’s maybe not quite as gripping as the end of “Vertigo,” but it’s not crazy to draw parallels. This is the second Mario Bava giallo I’ve seen, along with “Blood and Black Lace,” and I’m hugely impressed with both movies. Based on this, I place him above Argento, and with Lucio Fulci and Umberto Lenzi as the top tier directors of giallo. Grade A-.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Hidden Fortress - Akira Kurosawa
This wasn’t really that similar to Star Wars. I wasn’t totally engaged by this and it was very long. There were some cool parts, but my mind wandered and I could have paid more attention. Doubt I’ll rewatch soon though. On the Criterion disk there’s a George Lucas interview, and he has a really fat neck. I’m not sure if that fact is disguised by or accentuated by his beard. Grade B-.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Pickup on South Street - Samuel Fuller
This is basically anti-communist propaghanda, but at the same time so very…stylish. I love film noir done well, and this is a fine example at its toughest and leanest. I recalled Richard Widmark from Jules Dassin’s excellent “The Night and the City,” and this is another great performance. The women who played Mo is also great.
What helps elevate this above anti-communist silliness is the fact that Widmark’s character is such a louse, such a two-bit low-life, instead of some kind of boy scout. This allows the femme to play the real hero of the film. Widmark never even really has that formulaic Bogey-in-Casablanca turn from cynicism to patriotic idealism. He is shown to have a sentimental side however, with Mo’s death and the femme.
There was a moment when the dirty commie shoots the girl when I thought this might be the bleakest movie I had ever seen, but this one gives us a happy ending which I am of two minds about. I like the ending, but the final moments are a little cornball. That’s okay though. The stylized dialogue and engaging tautness of the preceding eighty minutes more than make up for it. Grade A.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Moonrise Kingdom - Wes Anderson
Seen in the theater for the first time in September 2012.
Over the last decade I’ve grown to loathe discussing Wes Anderson films with people. Wes Anderson is, to my way of thinking, sort of the John Hughes of my generation. He makes nice entertainments, fluffy and inconsequential in the end, but if you’re of the right age and of the right class and educational background, they seem to speak of something shared. Frustratingly then, so many of the people of this generation seem to embrace him as an important filmmaker - someone to be discussed in the company of the likes of Martin Scorsese or Woody Allen (never mind if these two themselves deserve to be discussed in their own company).
This creates a kind of alienation in me of many different sorts. For one, I’ve just come to loathe being outnumbered in these discussions by smug twits, who in all honesty, lack the breadth and depth of my consumption of cinema. And two, it gets lonely. And it reminds you of the unbreachability of that loneliness. You search for kindred spirits, and all you can find is laziness and parochial mindsets in one form or another. You’re lucky if you can find a few people who won’t sneer at something in black and white.
At one time, before “Tenenbaums,” enthusiasm for Anderson’s films was perhaps an indicator of kindredness. Here was someone who was at least exposed to film outside of the mainstream stuff playing at the multiplex. That changed with “Tenenbaums.” The whole damn generation embraced the aesthetic. And the thing is, Anderson’s films were good, but not that good. When you meet enough people who, with a straight face, will tell you that “Tenenbaums” and “Amelie” are among the 100 best films of all time, and yet have never heard of Billy Wilder nor seen any Fritz Lang or Truffaut, than the gears get to grinding.
I don’t like to rant. I don’t think its a good look. I think its a particularly bad look when discussing creative endeavors. But you have a few drinks and an Anderson fan starts talking and sometimes it’s hard to resist the hyperbolic scorched earth that makes you sound like you hate something that you actually kind of like well enough for what it is. Look, “The Royal Tenenbaums” is basically a precariously constructed tower of portentious gestures built upon a bed of whimsy. The fact that it teeters but does not fall is nothing short of a marvel. But those portentious signifiers actually leave the viewer dissatisfied in the end. It’s nothing if not a dissappointing movie.
Moonrise Kingdom on the other hand abandons all of those portentious gestures and leaves us with a whimsical frolic. There’s nothing more portentious in this film than a troubled marriage, which I think is right at Wes Anderson’s pay grade. But I’ve realized something new about all of those Wes Anderson fans of my generation. I used to think that they were duped by those portentious signifiers. That they thought that they were getting opera, when what they were really getting was just a little harmless whimsy. But no, it was the whimsy that they loved all along. I misunderestimated them. They knew that what’s-her-face’s attempted suicide and Gene Hackman’s death were just emotional spectacles, crude emotional manipulations in a fairy tale universe. And they thought that was greatness, which is fair enough.
So the question I ask now is, why does my generation love whimsy so much? Is it this daydream nation we’ve somehow grown up in? The overeducated materialism of which is not even threatened by the specters of AIDS and terrorism. Those peripheral threats, of which we are barely cognizant, lurking out there somewhere and happening to somebody else. It’s my best guess. When you’ve known little of suffering and deprivation beyond maybe your dad moving out and a new guy moving in, or watching some towers crumble on television, whimsy seems like maybe a fine and comforting way of being diverted. And what can be more important, if this is your life, than being diverted?
I don’t hate whimsy. I really, in fact, enjoyed Moonrise Kingdom. A lot. But I’m constitutionally unable to think of whimsy as great, as striving to reach the highest pinnacles of artistic endeavor. Anyway, Anderson’s last two movies have been essentially kids films. I feel like he’s found his calling. The visuals by the way were great. Grade A.
Over the last decade I’ve grown to loathe discussing Wes Anderson films with people. Wes Anderson is, to my way of thinking, sort of the John Hughes of my generation. He makes nice entertainments, fluffy and inconsequential in the end, but if you’re of the right age and of the right class and educational background, they seem to speak of something shared. Frustratingly then, so many of the people of this generation seem to embrace him as an important filmmaker - someone to be discussed in the company of the likes of Martin Scorsese or Woody Allen (never mind if these two themselves deserve to be discussed in their own company).
This creates a kind of alienation in me of many different sorts. For one, I’ve just come to loathe being outnumbered in these discussions by smug twits, who in all honesty, lack the breadth and depth of my consumption of cinema. And two, it gets lonely. And it reminds you of the unbreachability of that loneliness. You search for kindred spirits, and all you can find is laziness and parochial mindsets in one form or another. You’re lucky if you can find a few people who won’t sneer at something in black and white.
At one time, before “Tenenbaums,” enthusiasm for Anderson’s films was perhaps an indicator of kindredness. Here was someone who was at least exposed to film outside of the mainstream stuff playing at the multiplex. That changed with “Tenenbaums.” The whole damn generation embraced the aesthetic. And the thing is, Anderson’s films were good, but not that good. When you meet enough people who, with a straight face, will tell you that “Tenenbaums” and “Amelie” are among the 100 best films of all time, and yet have never heard of Billy Wilder nor seen any Fritz Lang or Truffaut, than the gears get to grinding.
I don’t like to rant. I don’t think its a good look. I think its a particularly bad look when discussing creative endeavors. But you have a few drinks and an Anderson fan starts talking and sometimes it’s hard to resist the hyperbolic scorched earth that makes you sound like you hate something that you actually kind of like well enough for what it is. Look, “The Royal Tenenbaums” is basically a precariously constructed tower of portentious gestures built upon a bed of whimsy. The fact that it teeters but does not fall is nothing short of a marvel. But those portentious signifiers actually leave the viewer dissatisfied in the end. It’s nothing if not a dissappointing movie.
Moonrise Kingdom on the other hand abandons all of those portentious gestures and leaves us with a whimsical frolic. There’s nothing more portentious in this film than a troubled marriage, which I think is right at Wes Anderson’s pay grade. But I’ve realized something new about all of those Wes Anderson fans of my generation. I used to think that they were duped by those portentious signifiers. That they thought that they were getting opera, when what they were really getting was just a little harmless whimsy. But no, it was the whimsy that they loved all along. I misunderestimated them. They knew that what’s-her-face’s attempted suicide and Gene Hackman’s death were just emotional spectacles, crude emotional manipulations in a fairy tale universe. And they thought that was greatness, which is fair enough.
So the question I ask now is, why does my generation love whimsy so much? Is it this daydream nation we’ve somehow grown up in? The overeducated materialism of which is not even threatened by the specters of AIDS and terrorism. Those peripheral threats, of which we are barely cognizant, lurking out there somewhere and happening to somebody else. It’s my best guess. When you’ve known little of suffering and deprivation beyond maybe your dad moving out and a new guy moving in, or watching some towers crumble on television, whimsy seems like maybe a fine and comforting way of being diverted. And what can be more important, if this is your life, than being diverted?
I don’t hate whimsy. I really, in fact, enjoyed Moonrise Kingdom. A lot. But I’m constitutionally unable to think of whimsy as great, as striving to reach the highest pinnacles of artistic endeavor. Anyway, Anderson’s last two movies have been essentially kids films. I feel like he’s found his calling. The visuals by the way were great. Grade A.
The Sirens of Titan - Kurt Vonnegut
Read for the second time in September 2012.
Upon finishing Palm Sunday, I decided to embark on a reread of Vonnegut’s works. I chose Sirens of Titan, because although I didn’t remember it as the best, I found the idea behind the story the most compelling. That idea being that the whole purpose of the human race was to deliver a replacement part for a spaceship to a stranded messenger from another galaxy, stuck on one of Saturn’s moons. I recall fondly the playful way Vonnegut told this tale with a nihilistic whimsy and I remain impressed by it.
Vonnegut also invents a new religion here. I think this is something he was fond of doing early in his career. The gist of this religion is that god is indifferent to human beings. You take care of each other and I’ll take care of myself is the message of this religion’s god. As presented by Vonnegut, it seems like an inarguably great religion, an improvement for humanity if we had the ability to embrace it. But I lack Vonnegut’s talents, and it sounds depressing in my own words.
Another thing about this religion is that people handicap their advantages, and this leads to people forgoing the desire to take advantage of others. I’m not 100% enthused by the invented religion in execution, but I’d prefer if it, and not scientology, had succeeded into having real world converts.
There seems to be a strange breach of logic when one character tells another character to pay attention to his future son’s good luck object, and then that same character sees to it that that character’s memory is erased. That conversation must be their for the reader’s benefit. Tsk Tsk.
I remain convinced that the world would be a better place if everyone read and studied Vonnegut. But I also realize that human nature being what it is, people would still be shitty to each other. It’s not as easy as making up a new religion. It’s not religion’s fault that people are shitty to each other; religion is merely an excuse or a pretext. Everything has a material explanation.
That’s what religion blamers don’t really understand. Religion isn’t even really a comfort for people, but a coping mechanism, and probably one is as good as another. The human mind needs something with which it can negotiate for control over all of those things it can’t control. I don’t think Vonnegut understood this at this point in his career or that he ever would. But that’s okay. It’s not really a flaw.
But Vonnegut’s great strength is in recognizing the perspectives that makes human beings do tiny small-minded things that increase the unhappiness in the world. He tries to shift our perspective, so that we might recognize them ourselves and behave in a way that increases the happiness in this world. I think with this book about man’s search for meaning and usefulness, Vonnegut is at his very best in this regard. It’s probably Vonnegut’s most ambitious book in terms of big ideas and probably his most underrated. It belongs on the same tier as Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat’s Cradle.
Ultimately,I think nobody has written more useful parables for the human race since Jesus Christ himself. And let’s face it, a whole lot of Jesus’s parables aren’t really that useful once you realize that the kingdom of god isn’t a real thing.
Upon finishing Palm Sunday, I decided to embark on a reread of Vonnegut’s works. I chose Sirens of Titan, because although I didn’t remember it as the best, I found the idea behind the story the most compelling. That idea being that the whole purpose of the human race was to deliver a replacement part for a spaceship to a stranded messenger from another galaxy, stuck on one of Saturn’s moons. I recall fondly the playful way Vonnegut told this tale with a nihilistic whimsy and I remain impressed by it.
Vonnegut also invents a new religion here. I think this is something he was fond of doing early in his career. The gist of this religion is that god is indifferent to human beings. You take care of each other and I’ll take care of myself is the message of this religion’s god. As presented by Vonnegut, it seems like an inarguably great religion, an improvement for humanity if we had the ability to embrace it. But I lack Vonnegut’s talents, and it sounds depressing in my own words.
Another thing about this religion is that people handicap their advantages, and this leads to people forgoing the desire to take advantage of others. I’m not 100% enthused by the invented religion in execution, but I’d prefer if it, and not scientology, had succeeded into having real world converts.
There seems to be a strange breach of logic when one character tells another character to pay attention to his future son’s good luck object, and then that same character sees to it that that character’s memory is erased. That conversation must be their for the reader’s benefit. Tsk Tsk.
I remain convinced that the world would be a better place if everyone read and studied Vonnegut. But I also realize that human nature being what it is, people would still be shitty to each other. It’s not as easy as making up a new religion. It’s not religion’s fault that people are shitty to each other; religion is merely an excuse or a pretext. Everything has a material explanation.
That’s what religion blamers don’t really understand. Religion isn’t even really a comfort for people, but a coping mechanism, and probably one is as good as another. The human mind needs something with which it can negotiate for control over all of those things it can’t control. I don’t think Vonnegut understood this at this point in his career or that he ever would. But that’s okay. It’s not really a flaw.
But Vonnegut’s great strength is in recognizing the perspectives that makes human beings do tiny small-minded things that increase the unhappiness in the world. He tries to shift our perspective, so that we might recognize them ourselves and behave in a way that increases the happiness in this world. I think with this book about man’s search for meaning and usefulness, Vonnegut is at his very best in this regard. It’s probably Vonnegut’s most ambitious book in terms of big ideas and probably his most underrated. It belongs on the same tier as Slaughterhouse-Five and Cat’s Cradle.
Ultimately,I think nobody has written more useful parables for the human race since Jesus Christ himself. And let’s face it, a whole lot of Jesus’s parables aren’t really that useful once you realize that the kingdom of god isn’t a real thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)