Sickness Cinema

Yikes, no updates since May.  MAY!  So, life got in the way of the blog again.  My apologies loyal and fervent readers.  Now that the more time intensive part of the job has come to an end both podcasts and blog entries are going to resume regularly.  As a matter of fact Francisco and I have a meeting set for this Sunday [ed. note, personal problem led to a dealy, we'll record soon, promise].  So lets talk summer shall we:

For time and wallet's sake I think I've done a fairy good job of avoiding absolute dross and the more completely disposable entertainment that comes with every summer.  A lot of people whine and bicker about remakes and reimaginings and sequels but the fact of the matter is that good filmmaking can trump name and pedigree.  I think it stand as a nice point for studios to remember that arguably of the two best films of the summer; one was completely original and the other was a sequel.  There are no hard and fast rules, I just want good.

The Best: 

Toy Story 3 is remarkable in that manages to be a powerful meditation on faith and mortality while at the same time is top flight family entertainment that is equally funny and exciting as well as moving.  Rather than try to be especially ambitious in its style (it doesn't take the leaps of Wall-E or Up) it insteads pares down to storytelling basics and uses our deep attachment to these characters to make every single moment count.

Inception on the other hand is a glorious puzzlebox, but unlike Nolan's The Prestige, Inception has a heart beating deep underneath its cold, ellaborate exterior.  Nolan actively engages his audience while dazzling them (that hotel fight, my god).  Imagine that, a movie people are excitedly discussing for weeks, not days, not hours after watching. Please studios, learn from this film, we want to think as much as we want to be entertained.

The Kids Are All Right is directed and co-written by fellow Columbia alum Lisa Choledenko and her film is both particular and detail oriented, yet delightfully accessible.  By presenting the same sex family unit as a matter of fact she moves on to more universal questions about children growing older and married couples dealing with late in life relationship challenges.  Well acted and frequently funny, the movie is charming to a fault.

Surprises:

Splice slowly but surely built up a reputation at festivals and on the web before its early summer release.  It's a horror film that suggests some dangerous taboo areas and has the conviction to actually "go there."  While not always in possession of the sharpest dialogue or deepest characters, Splice presents itself in clever and enetertaining ways both in its performances and memorable creature effects.  The nicest compliment I could give it is it would make a nifty double feature with Rosemary's Baby.

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World is not a surprise in that I thought it was good.  It's an Edgar Wright film based on a critically acclaimed comic series, OF COURSE I WAS GOING TO LIKE IT.  That the film is a visual fantasia, emmaculately edited and structured and endlessly funny is also not surprising.  What is surprising though, is the film's emotional depth and message of awareness about how we treat people as we are capable of leaving tremendous emotional damage in our wake.  Someone has said this film is like Manhattan with ninja fights and in pure pitch terms that sells me on it 100%.

I was quite skeptical about The Other Guys.  Will Ferrell has, frankly, been in a lot of dreck, but when he teams with Adam McKay he brings it.  There were a lot of x factors going in, it's proximity to the lamentable Cop Out, Wahleberg as a viable comic lead (supporting certianly, but lead?) and the well trod subject matter, but The Other Guys subverts expectations with consistent comic invention and manic, absurd energy.  A rather pointed look on corporate malfeasance and two ridiculously out of their depth unlikely heroes, The Other Guys delivers laugh after laugh. 

Disappointments:

Clash of the Titans is a movie I've spoken about on the podcast and as I think more about it I feel like what's missing from the film is a sense of fun and wonder.  There is plenty of spectacle but it tries to be bad-ass and stoic and it all comes off as dreadfully dull and rote. 

Salt, for all its analogue special effects and pretty excellent stunt work is as boring a slog as I've seen on screen in years.  The movie never made me care for one minute about any of its characters and the axis on which its lead character turns is never established in any way whatsoever.  The twists are unsurprising and for all of Phillip Noyce's technical skill, if I'm not connecting then all the freeway jumping in the world isn't going to make it better.

The Expendables would work if it were purely a Jackass-esque avant-garde presntation of context free action scenes.  Unfortunately, it insists upon establishing characters and a linear narrative.  What is meant to be a a victory lap around nostalgia stadium becomes a tedious, laughable exercise in excess.

When Frank and I do our summer review we'll go into much more detail, stay tuned.

Sorry I've been out lately.  I've been fairly sick and needed to rest up so no movies for me.  So instead riddle me this blog fans:  

Is Ron Swanson a tea party member?

Nick Offerman and the phenomenal writing (and assistant writing) staff of Parks and Rec have worked hard to make Ron Swanson one of the most entertaining characters on TV and it's been a pleasure to see the character grow and develop.  However, in the often liberal world of TV comedy some of Ron's views make him something of an anomaly (as well as the perfect foil) to the civic can-do optimism of Amy Poehler's Leslie Knope.

Now I'm sure show-runner Michael Schurr would argue that these characters have never been meant to affiliate with any specific political group or party.  They are first and foremost comedy characters.  After all Leslie has cited both Hillary Clinton AND Sarah Palin as inspirational women.  But just because it's never explicitly stated doesn't mean it's not worth wondering about.

He is:  One of Ron's prominent character traits is his unabashed contempt for government and bureaucracy. He'd just as soon minimize the involvement of the parks department, keep on a skeleton staff and not get involved in civic activities.  Being told his department was going to face a 34% budget cut (in the penultimate "The Master Plan") brought an enormous smile to his face.  Or as he puts it in the finale "I am an official member of a task force dedicated to slashing the city budget. Just saying that gave me a semi."  

In the pilot he derides the current era of more active government, which pretty neatly coincided with the start of the Obama administration.  In one of his first talking head segments he spells it out:

I've been quite open about this around the office: I don't want this parks department to build any parks because I don't believe in government. I think that all government is a waste of taxpayer money. My dream is to have the park system privatized and run entirely for profit by corporations, like Chuck E. Cheese. They have an impeccable business model. I would rather work for Chuck E. Cheese.

The favoring of privitization (as here embodied by Chuck E. Cheese) is certainly telling as is the concern for taxpayers.  While the modern tea party is fractious and divisive on a variety of topics I'm sure that the bulk of the protest has been instigated by frustration over taxes.  Time and again Ron speaks on behalf of easing the burden of taxpayers.

Another major proponent of Tea Partiers is their literalist interpretation of the constitution, in particular a firm belief in the second amendment.  As seen in episode 2.10 "Hunting Trip" Ron shows an affinity for hunting and a comfortable familiarity with rifles.  On the other hand the episode also provides some evidence in the "isn't" section as Ron also is quite fervent in his need for regulation and is very serious about making sure everyone on the trip has the proper permits.

He isn't:  Is Ron's hatred for government really just disguised apathy?  Or laziness?  It's possible, cause while he may hem and haw time and again Ron has stood up for people who do hard work in their government.  In the season finale Ron heroically (and hilariously) not only stands up for Leslie's job but makes a mad dash for the lot where Leslie has gone against the rulings of Pawnee state adjustors.

Also hurtful to his possoble tea-party affiliation is that Ron is a bit of an elitist and definitely has leanings toward meritocracy.  If the Tea Party espouses the beliefs of the common man Ron wants no part of that.   Here is a talking head piece from episode 1.4 "Boys Club"

My idea of a perfect government is one guy who sits in a small room at a desk, and the only thing he's allowed to decide is who to nuke. The man is chosen based on some kind of IQ test, and maybe also a physical tournament, like a decathlon. And women are brought to him, maybe...when he desires them.

Alright, I'll leave us on that fun note.  But I now throw it to you.  Is Ron anti-government enough to be on Sarah Palin's mailing list, or is this just Lou Grant's heart of gold dressed up in a Fox News pin?

Warning, mild spoilers within:

Finally got a chance to see Terry Gilliam's Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus.  Unagianly title aside I think it's Gilliam's most successful and complete film in quite some time.  It has the late period Gilliam trait of going off the rails but it also feels incredibly personal and revealing.

The plot follows the titular Dr. Parnassus, a mystic-cum-showman, who make a deal with the devil for immortality.  In exchange for this gift the Doc will have to give over his daughter, Valentina, to the devil when she turns eighteen.  There is a way out though.  Should Parnassus convince five souls to enter his Imaginarum (a glorious fantasy world that allows users to explore their greatest wishes) and pick Parnassus' path of enlightenment through imagination and stories over the seductive and easily tempting bar of the devil and the superficial desires it offers. Parnassus' task seems hopeless until his troupe comes across the mysterious, supposed amnesiac, hanging man Tony.

Like all of Gilliam's films this one is overstuffed with dream imagery and cluttered with genuine whimsy.  Gilliam loves his scenes to be busy; full of canted angles, characters with exaggerated features and lots of bric-a-brac everywhere.  When we first see Parnassus and his troupe, the stage and gateway to the Imaginarium feels hopelessly out of date.  The same goes double for the pantomime show Parnassus and his group present to the crowd.  The potential onlookers either laugh it off or walk by immersed in video games or idle chatter or cell phones.  How can an analogue show hope to compete in a digital age?  It is clear that Parnassus and his troupe are analogues for Gilliam and his collaborators.  They offer boundless imagination but everyone would rather seek their pleasure elsewhere.  

The Imaginarium stands in for Gilliam's films, busy and cluttered and while they have the promise of appealing to an audience most of the audience can't be bothered.  He uses old techniques and is a firm believer, like Parnassus, that storytelling is something primal and life-sustaining.  Those fortunate enough to visit and willing to go deep inside are rewarded with countless abstract visual marvels.  It can be hard to follow though, there can be long slogs and Gilliam is willing to concede this point.  In one scene in the Imaginarium the Parnassus path appears as a stentorian sort of mountain.  Parnassus himself appears as a bearded mystic, old and sometimes impossible to understand.  Parnassus has a penchant for telling stories in fits and starts (not unlike Gilliam's own frustrated film shoots which fate seems to doom again and again).

But is Parnassus the only stand-in for Gilliam?  I think there's elements of him in all the characters.  As the Devil, Tom Waits is perfectly cast gleefully causing havoc everywhere he goes.  He appears in a variety of shapes and forms.  Gilliam too is a man of many moods and shapes; Gilliam the writer, director, performer, animator. Waits' Devil doesn't feel especially evil, he is more than happy to give Parnassus plenty of opportunities to succeed.  Then there's Tony as played by Heath Ledger in the real world and a number of Ledger's famous friends in the Imaginarium.  Tony is a failed business man who defrauded some bad men at the cost of a childrens' charity.  Gilliam has made a great deal of his later films based on independent financiers as he has frequently felt stifled by the studio system (he certainly has some legitimate gripes with them).  Could Tony be Gilliam's feelings of guilt over not being able to pay back his investors?  Probably not.  But what Tony brings to the show; more flash and showmanship, the desire to aim at a different audience  could be Gilliam consciously trying to change his methods.  We as an audience want to trust Tony but there is something inherently suspicious about him.  Maybe it's because he seems to good to be true?  Maybe it's because when we meet him he is, quite literally, at the end of his rope?  I don't think anyone would be surprised if Gilliam had decided to retire at this point in his career.  Too many false starts and stops and a series of shoots that have all the good fortune of Job.  

But Gilliam can't stop, won't stop.  In perhaps the most telling scene in the film, the Devil confronts Parnassus and his group of mystics.  Parnassus informs him that the mystics are chanting a story to keep the world spinning.  The story goes on forever.  The Devil then makes the mouths of the mystics disappear.  The world does not stop spinning and Parnassus explains that this is because others are telling the story elsewhere.  The commitment to story, to imagination, is not going away and Gilliam has been and always will be one of its foremost proponents.

Haven't done one of these in a while, but here are some quick thoughts on what I've been watching via netflix.

Hunger:  There are some movies that I respect way more than I actually enjoy watching.  Steve McQueen's (not related to the actor) Hunger is just such a film.  This film, which follows Irish prisoner and eventual hunger striker Bobby Sands during the English troubles, is an upsetting, albeit beautifully shot and choreographed film.  Sands is played by Michael Fassbender who gave good Niven in Basterds and is just plain old masterful in Fish Tank, continues to dazzle with each role.  He undergoes a brutal physical transformation, on par with Bale's in The Machinist, but McQueen layers on scene after scene of unimaginable pain.  He spends a good chunk of the film with relatively little dialogue and then follows those first 2/3rds up with a long unbroken dialogue between Sands and a priest.  There are some sensory elements that are incredibly difficult to convey visually (I'm thinking smell in Perfume to cite one example) but I've never seen hunger and the unbearable pain that goes along with it so powerfully portrayed on screen.  All that said, I don't especially feel the need to revisit this film casually.

Sex Drive:  This film was, understandably, dismissed as one of a million dumb sex comedies that swam in the wake of American Pie (and its MANY, MANY spin-offs).  However, I think ambition and creativity should always be commended and this film has both those things in spades.  In this case the film was pretty much DOA at the box office and critically but I think those who dive deep into their netflix q or bargain bins will find this likable film.  The plot is rather throw-away (nerd/virgin lies about his appearance with online pen pal who finally wants to meet, wacky road-trip ensues).  While the plot feels threadbare and the characters familiar, the writers and performers provide both with new twists.  For example our protagonists best friend who is a notorious stud is played by Clark Duke (who is having something of a cult renaissance this year).  Duke is the last sort of actor you'd imagine in the role but the filmmakers don't treat his poon hound ways for laughs which makes the character work even better.  The jocky, hot rod driving brother is played by James Marsden, who clearly watched Bill Paxton in Weird Science and said to himself "I can do that even BETTER!"  There's the platonic lady friend (Amanda Crew) who instead of hiding her beauty behind glasses and a ponytail is clearly gorgeous right from the beginning.  It's not just character beats but plot points too.  I can't remember the last comedy I saw that hinged on Amish rumspringa or so deftly used a talking doughnut in a sombrero.  This is a fun, creative entry into an overcrowded and frequently limp genre.

Cold Souls:  Sometimes we forget how lucky we are to have someone like Charlie Kaufman.  I'm sure anyone can write "weird" or "abstract", but it takes a real talent to actually make it work onscreen.  It definitely takes a titanic effort to move past a series of quirks and eccentricities to make credible, sympathetic characters.  Cold Souls is neither written nor directed by Kaufman.  Those dubious honor goes to Sophia Barthes.  The film takes one of my favorite actors and makes him a completely unlovable bastard.  I don't necessarily mind that, but making him a bore?  That's unforgivable.  Paul Giamatti stars as Paul Giamatti, a screen actor and moderate success who is struggling in a production of Uncle Vanya.  He hears about a radical new surgery that will remove his soul, engineered but an eccentric doctor (David Straithern).  So now we have shades of Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine.  Sounds interesting?  Certainly.  But don't be fooled.  Dividing the films time is a go-nowhere side plot about a series of Russian soul-mules who sell the extracted souls on the black market?  For what?  How?  What is the actual value of a soul?  What does it all mean?  The answers are vague when they're not entirely absent.  The film ultimately boils down to a rather familiar parable about even though we don't understand what a soul is not having one makes most people very uncomfortable.  Why not skip this movie entirely and watch that Simpsons episode about Millhouse buying Bart's soul instead.

Several years ago an eccentirc, whimsical French man, Phillipe Petit, captured the art-house crowd's imagination by walking on a tightrope across the Twin Towers in the film Man on Wire.  This summer brings another odd-ball Gall, Thierry Guetta.  A vintage clothing retailer turned filmmaker (maybe), the film follows Guetta in what begins as a quest to chronicle the world of underground artists then radically turns inward and examines Guetta as an artist and evolves once more into a consideration of what constitutes genuine artistry. 

The film is the first feature by the underground artist Banksy.  It's immediately apparent that his filmmaking craft is as immediately provocative and engaging as what he may produce on a streetcorner or gallery.  The film is frequently funny, introspective, exciting and surprisingly accessible.  Sifting through months worth of footage (that may be underselling it by a lot as Guetta recorded almost EVERYTHING) Banksy has created a powerful film that like his work will make people re-evaulate and reconsider their perception of art and the world around them.  The film is never portentous or ponderous.  On the contrary, Banksy and Guetta's footage captures the daring illicit actions of these artists.  Banksy himself shows up frequently in the film, though like many of the artists his voice is modified and his face is obscured. He keeps himself at an arms-length from the audience and remains a knowing albiet enigmatic figure.

It is Guetta who begins the film as the audience identification character and transforms into something else.  Guetta starts as ambitious,fearless and has an off-color sort of oddball charm.  He develops and learns as his interest deepens in this exciting world. Guetta's place in the world deepens so does his ambition.  Banksy encourages Guetta that he become an artist.  What happens next is fascinating, engaging stuff that I wouldn't dream of spoiling.

Now consider this.  Banksy's oeuvre is designed to provoke and mess about with iconography and convention.  In changing Guetta from chronicler of underground artists to participant he is very deliberately building on the themes and ideas expressed in his visual art.  This is a pretty remarkable feat for even an experienced filmmaker, let alone someone who has never worked in the medium before.  To get to his central themes without sacrificing pacing or dynamism is very impressive.  By the end of the film he's asking to draw a line in the sand and ask us "what is art?" in a way that doesn't feel patronizing or pedantic.

Before we enter the onslaught of summer blockbuster it's nice to know that movies can still be funny, thrilling and eye-opening without millions of dollars of CG and spotty 3-D.

Episode 11: YOU ARE BETTER AT DYING!!!!

The Cave 76 Podcast

And we're back with a new epsiode.  We talk about some recent Cave 76 business, Dr. Who and answer some great listener questions.

Cave 76 Drama

We make mention of a fake twitter account that has been imitating me.  You can follow fake me by clicking here.

The mayor of Whitehall, Kansas, favors the films of Michael Keaton.  Frank singles out Night Shift

We make mention of several other podcasts, these include the Slash filmcast, KCRW's the Treatment and Terry Gross, the host of NPR Fresh Air.

and then I do a botched Garrison Keilor impression. 

Here's what the real Keilor sounds like:

You can send hate mail to Mayor Van DerVelt via cave76sucks@gmail.com

You can support Buck Trendaloo via cave67sucks@gmail.com

Dr. Who

Dr. Who airs Saturday at 9:00 pm E/ST on BBC America.

Like all things sci-fi (and NOT for a research paper) you can find out a ton of information about Dr. Who here.

BBC America's Dr. Who site is quite good and very much designed to help inform newcomers.  Check it out here.

Frank insists that Matt Smith:

bears a striking resemblance to Exeter from This Island Earth:

and Bill Hader as Greg:

The clip Frank plays from Dr. Who is from David Tennant's first episode as the Doctor entitled The Christmas Invasion.

This is a Dalek:

Here is the showdown that Frank enthusiastically describes between the Cybermen and the Daleks:

Frank compares the show to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the more I think about it the more I'm inclined to agree.  I still maintain that as an icon in terms of how he is viewed within the culture the Doctor is the UK Superman.  He is the humanitarian who is there to face down problems no single man can overcome.  Tellingly he is not the paragon of physical might and perfection but rather is more prone to use his wit to solve problems.

When Frank comments on Matt Smith's Robert Pattinson-like hair I evoke the Coen Brothers line from the Hudsucker Proxy by saying "You know, for the kids."  Frank then evokes the end of Tootsie.

Also if you're wondering what Frank is eating (which he shouldn't be doing while we're recording) the answer is Funyons.

Listener Questions

Frank references the Apartment which will absolutesly be part of the Cave 76 Canon at some point. If you haven't seen it, change that RIGHT NOW!

Here's the amazing "I'm on a horse" Old Spice commercial:

Here's a gallery of our favorite movie presidents:

President James Dale from Mars Attacks

President Comancho from Idiocracy

President Jackson Evans in The Contender

President James Marshall in Air Force One

President Thomas J. Whitmore in ID4

President Andrew Shepherd in The American President

Frank says Stephen Frears says that Tony Blair is the President of Europe.  This is a reference to Frears' 2006 film The Queen which underlines how Blair was catapulted into the public spotlight after the death of Princess Diana.

Here is the trailer for Ridley Scott's Robin Hood

and here is the trailer for Ridley Scott's Gladiator

So you know...you tell me.

I mention a scene from the Critic where the raptors from Jurassic Park speak, here it is:

What we're looking forward to

Fringe airs Thursdays at 9 pm E/ST.

Tombstone is now available on Blu-ray.

The Val Kilmer story:  A mutual friend of mine and Frank's (who I have NOTHING but nice things to say about) knows Val Kilmer pretty well and when Frank was feeling sick right before a major performance she had Val call him up and leave a menacing (and very amusing) message encouraging him to get well.  Aren't you glad you waited to find THAT out?

One's appreciation of The Losers will probably be in direct proportion to the viewer's blood alcohol level or the number of "bros" one has brought along to the (hopefully but not likely) crowded theater.  The new film by Sylvain White is at best a passable diversion and never really aspires to be more than that.  Based on the Vertigo comics series by Andy Diggle and Jock, the Losers features a team of highly trained special ops soldiers who are burned and left for dead when a mission goes wrong and their subsequent quest for revenge against the mysterious Max.

This is hardly breaking new ground in terms of action-fare and everyone seems to know it.  Vertigo is a comics branch of DC that is known for critically acclaimed, mature titles but the Losers the comic never wanted to be more than an action movie in comic form.  Oh certainly there are inventive bits here and there lifted from the comic (Chris Evans infiltration into an office building is the clear highlight) but this is hardly groundbreaking material.  Even the more risqué, thoughtful elements of the initial Losers story have been dropped in favor of mainstream accessibility.

The character who this most effects, Aisha, is the one who could use it the most.  As played by current blockbuster "It" girl Zoe Saldana Aisha is the typical powerful, third wave feminist action  icon.  Confident in her sexuality and fiercely competent in her skill set, with an independent streak a mile wide.  All well and good if a bit familiar.  The comic's Aisha is of Arabic decent having grown up in Afghanistan and Pakistan with ties to the Taliban back when they were fighting against the USSR.  Of course this sort of shading or ruminations on geopolitics goes right out the window.  The movie would much rather get to the explosions.

I don't necessarily blame The Losers for this desire to minimize the kiss, kiss and emphasize the bang, bang as director White's skill-set does not seem to be in extended dialogue scenes.  Without a goal in mind or gun in hand the Losers becomes a frightful bore.  Only Chris Evans comes away unscathed as his character, Jensen, the comic-relief-hacker/communications specialist.  The other actors seem game but are given surprisingly little to do beyond growl, shoot and stand around looking cool.  Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Idris Elba certainly seem primed to be stars but don't have much to work with, which is surprising since screenwriters James Vanderbilt (The Rundown, Zodiac) and Peter Berg (Friday Night Lights) have in the past shown a strong grasp of both character and action.  I am also confused beyond belief as to how White, who has in the past choreographed the dance film Stomp the Yard, could compose such incredibly shoddy hand-to-hand combat scenes.  There are some embarrassingly obvious edits and bad camera choices that take one RIGHT out of the movie.

Then there is the villain, Max, who deserves some consideration.  As played by Jason Patric, Max is either going to be the highlight of the film or the ingredient that pushes it right into the catastrophe pile.  In a performance that can only be described as Carusoe-esque, Patric brings every possible ounce of skeez in his body to the fore.  This a repugnant character, gleefully so.  So much so, in fact, that it often seems Max (and Patric) is in a movie completely of his own.  His behavior is insane but not over-pronounced. He plays him completely unflappable his actions are completely unpredictable and just bizarre.  Perhaps a more experienced director could make this all fit into the film but all the scenes in the Losers with Max stick out like a sore thumb.  What am I talking about?  Here's an example:

In one scene we see Max, his main henchman and a beautiful woman walking on the beach.  The beautiful woman is carrying an umbrella and holding it over Max as he discusses evil business with his henchman.  So far so good.  About half-way through the scene the woman's hand slips (or maybe it's the wind) and the umbrella is no longer aimed over Max's head.  When this happens Max pulls out a gun and without even looking shoots the woman.  He does this casually, not abruptly.  Now on the one hand this piece of action nicely illustrates that the character has no compunctions about taking a human life, but on the other hand the acting choice to be so damn non-chalant about comes across completely bizzare.

There's more strange choices from Patric but I wouldn't want to spoil it.  In the end the Losers is a perfectly acceptable last gasp of workout before the marathon that is summer blockbuster season.  It's perfectly fine middle of the road action that i have no doubt you'll be catching it while flipping through stations as part of a "USA summer of action" sort of promotion.

This week I was able to catch two Eastwood films I had previously missed in theaters;  Changeling and Gran Torino.  Both films were released in 2008 and both seemed destined for Oscar glory by the type of people who care about that sort of thing.  In the end neither film swept like prognosticators imagined and only Angelina Jolie got an acting nod for Changeling.  I'd never question Eastwood's command of visual language or technique but I was not especially enamored of either film, especially the completely tone deaf Gran Torino.  The problem with both films ultimately boils down to repetition, but of two very different sorts.

Changeling is inspired by a real life story of a single woman in the 40's who's child is abducted. When the corrupt L.A. police try to foist a fake child on her for political points, she fights back with the aide of a socially active priest (which in light of recent news sounds laughably ridiculous).  Now this synopsis certainly sounds rife with dramatic possibilities.  Unfortunately the film plays the exact same note over and over again for about the first hour and a half of the plot.  Oh sure there are scenes with different characters, different dialogue but it's just an endless cycle of Angelina Jolie firmly denying it's not her child, a pig-header or corrupt (or both) authority figure laughing her off.  She gets more insistent, so does the authority figure.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Now perhaps this was a matter of style informing content, that Eastwood wanted us to feel his protagonist's frustration, but it does not achieve this effect.  The last twenty minutes attempts to radically change the type of film from melodramatic police-procedural to social change observation, then courthouse drama, then an inspiring little coda at the end but it's not enough.  I have no doubt that the experience hews closely to what the proceedings must have felt like for our beleaguered protagonist but the feeling of this film is a drag and a bore when it should be anything but.

On the other end of the spectrum is the lamentable Gran Torino.  Now I will grant there are few actors who have as heightened an awareness of their perception amongst audiences as Eastwood does.  He understands the iconography of being Clint Eastwood, he knows his roles, his persona.  Gran Torino, which has been alleged as Eastwood's final acting performance, is meant to be a swan song for Eastwood the icon.  He plays a Korean war vet and recent widower who is an unapologetic, bitter, racist named Walt Kowalski.  His family, not unlike Hillary Swank's family in Million Dollar Baby, is literally, the most selfish, trashy family in modern cinema.  I'm sorry but no matter how shallow a teenage girl might be she's not rolling her eyes and texting at her grandmother's FUNERAL!  So we've got a bitter old man of violence with a void where family should be.  The tenants of story-telling dictate that Walt must now find acceptance and lowers his guard amongst a surrogate  family.  In this case the family is  made up of his Hmong neighbors instigated when the young, meek boy next door tries to steal the titular auto.  Walt eventually rises to the boys defense (his principals about honor outweigh his racism) and he becomes  embroiled in a gang war. 

Now ostensibly the film is about Walt learning and growing with this new family.  However, the film is REALLY a definitive statement from Eastwood the auteur about the ultimate futility of violence.  In the film's final scene Walt confronts the gang that has been hassling his surrogate son and raping and beating his surrogate daughter.  The last act of the film sees Walt seemingly preparing for a violent showdown armed to the teeth.  The final scene however reveals that Walt is armed only with his fingers, he sacrifices himself to bring an end to the gang.  This would be a fine capper for Eastwood except again there is the issue of repetition.  Eastwood has told this story about the final battle of the man with a violent past in Unforgiven.  Frankly he did it better in Unforgiven. 

In Unforgiven William Munny puts himself on the offense for a bout of  divine retribution against men who have done wrong.  He does not sacrifice himself and while his vengance is satisfying for us as audience members it is tinted with regret.  Munny, a once great gunfighter has, up until the conclusion, sworn off violence.  He returns to violence again because his own code have been pushed against (not unlike Walt).  However Munny's final act bears greater resonance and weight than Kowalski's.  Eastwood's film humanizes and gives dimension to his antagonists.  Gene Hackman's sherrif has been steadily tinkering with his house (not unlike Frank with his Gran Torino) and we see that he's a man who has made bad, sometimes wicked decisions, but he's got dimensions.  When Walt confronts his enemies we don't get that sense of overcoming a great burden.  We got one teensy bit of exposition prior where Walt admits that his gruff exterior is just that.  He says it's a miserable thing to kill a man.  I would argue that the character already has a death wish and better for him to die a symbol of (racist) innocence then make the more challenging decision to live.  In Gran Torino violence is something for lesser men, but it's easier for us to imagine an idealized world with no violence then to deal with a world where violence is a necessity.  We are never granted the same access and insight into the rival gang in Gran Torino and never have a chance to engage in the discussion of what is being fought for either.  It's probably just as well, much of the dialogue in Gran Torino is incredibly cumbersome and stilted. There's a ton of Walt speaking exactly what he's feeling aloud, mostly things an actor of Eastwood's caliber could convey without a single word.  There's so much wobbly acting (from Eastwood's co-stars) and dialogue around an intriguing set of ideas that it just made me want to turn it off and watch Unforgiven again. 

A dramtic tableau from Metropolis in the underground heart of the city

I stumbled across two concise but quality pieces of film writing that cropped up in the last 24 hours.  Glenn Kenny reflects on the new cut of Metropolis which will soon be making its way to Blu-ray and DVD and Kim Morgan tackles one of my favorites, The Third Man.

Kenny's piece reflects on some of the advantages of the new material, how it fleshes out some of the characters and give them some intriguing bits of business.  He also rightly praises the gorgeous performance by Brigette Helm who plays both the robot and human versions of Maria.  Kenny cleverly and eye-catchingly compares the robot Maria to a hybrid of Sarah Palin and Lady Gaga and the observation is an astute one.  Bold, eye-catching and possessing an innate feeling of the unknown, Maria has always been one of my favorite aspects of the film.  Maria is a very pleasant part of what can be a tricky experience.  I've always had some troubles with Metropolis.  It can be ponderous, a necessary evil in many silent films as audiences were still adjusting to the grammar of film.  A lot can seem extraneous and obvious to modern eyes.  However, Metropolis is blessed with dazzling visuals and amazingly choreographed bits of action that are still being referenced (even if it's largely being done subconsciously) today.  But what really strikes me about the piece is that it gets me excited to watch Metropolis again and seriously consider seeking it out in theaters or on Blu-ray.  Frank, despite his razzing of teachers in our most recent podcast, once said something to me very striking about film scholarship.  He said (and I'm paraphrasing a bit here) "You need to teach Truffaut like it's Jurassic Park."  I think the mistake is that a lot of critics treat high art like an exercise purely for academia.  This is certainly a legitimate and worthwhile approach, but in trying to reach a mass audience there is a lot to be said for infusing your work with excitement and enthusiasm.  To my mind the best criticism evokes the intense passion for the art (whether the critic loves or hates what he or she sees).  For a long time I've considered Metropolis part of a film school canon, it has its merits certainly, but its not a film I feel the need to revisit outside the lecture hall.  Kenny's piece imbues Lang's mechanical creation with a beating heart.

Kim Morgan has become one of my favorite critics since she can't help but make her predilections known in  every sentence.  It's the kind of film writing that on my best day I couldn't even get close to it.  She doesn't just give a rote explanation of the plot, she describes the plot to illuminate her points.  She doesn't just pepper in hyperbole and colorful adjectives, she evokes the genuine pleasure found in watching a favorite film.  Morgan writes of author Graham Greene's work:

"It isn't simply that Greene wrote a likable villain; he wrote a lovable story -- even though it revealed the paranoia and unease that would later characterize the Cold War."

Then there's Morgan's discussion of Harry Lime's (Orson Welles) entrance in the film and her conclusion.  All of this perfectly underlines what I've been talking about.

But then Reed gave Orson Welles one of the most famous entrances in movie history: A cat walks down the street, spies a man's shoes in a darkened doorway, curls up at his feet and meows loudly enough for Holly to notice from across a street. A window opens, and light flickers on Lime, and the camera holds a mysterious, mischievous and disarmingly smiling face. Welles (as Lime) looks back at Holly with eyes that silently return the two men back to childhood. Seductive, playful and enigmatic, this moment is suspended with an overwhelming sense of rapture (I get chills, and sometimes tear up every time I watch it) and makes you understand what Anna later says about Lime: "Harry never grew up. The world grew up around him." You forget about the terrible things he's done. You just want to follow him, anywhere, no matter what the repercussions.

These complicated emotions might cause anxiety and hardship, but they may result in delight, which is what makes The Third Man so unique among movies. The film is about expressing the inexpressible feelings that are gnarled in our psyches as fantasies or nightmares. It gets to the heart of that "obscure object of desire" without ever delineating just what it is we yearn for. A timeless masterpiece, The Third Man both restores your hope and breaks your heart.

Morgan keeps things clever, on point and evocative but never sacrifices her personal connection to the work.  It's a good message for me to remember as lately I've been struggling with keeping up with the blog like I hoped to when i restarted.  This isn't my day job, but on my best days at the best times, it's me writing about what I love.  I'm lucky that there are critics (not just reviewers) out there to remind me of that.