Today I saw The Square, starring David Roberts and Claire van der Boom.
It was the topic of Cinebanter #88, which is available here.
~~~
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Paulista
On Saturday, I screened Paulista, starring Silvia Lourenço and Maria Clara Spinelli.
When Marina (Lourenço), an aspiring actress, moves in with Suzana (Spinelli), her life is injected with opportunities that never seemed possible before. The street they live on in Sao Paulo, Avenida Paulista, is brimming with promise--socially and otherwise.
As we meet each character, we learn that they all share a connection to one another, much like a small town transported to a big city. There's Jay, who has fallen in love with a hooker, and he just happens to live in the same building as Marina and Suzana. Justine, a singer at a nearby club, quickly becomes the object of Marina's affection, and so forth.
None of the characters are boring and all of the situations presented (love, mystery, longing) keep you watching, but at the same time, none of what's happening is particularly unique.
I found the pace and transitions of Paulista to be very similar to that of the classic TV show miniseries Tales of the City, which was set in San Francisco. At the heart of both works is a message of people needing people, with a focus on how complicated our human desires and needs for validation can be.
Paulista is a sexy, enjoyable romp about a group of young people in the prime of their lives. Nothing more, nothing less.
~~~
When Marina (Lourenço), an aspiring actress, moves in with Suzana (Spinelli), her life is injected with opportunities that never seemed possible before. The street they live on in Sao Paulo, Avenida Paulista, is brimming with promise--socially and otherwise.
As we meet each character, we learn that they all share a connection to one another, much like a small town transported to a big city. There's Jay, who has fallen in love with a hooker, and he just happens to live in the same building as Marina and Suzana. Justine, a singer at a nearby club, quickly becomes the object of Marina's affection, and so forth.
None of the characters are boring and all of the situations presented (love, mystery, longing) keep you watching, but at the same time, none of what's happening is particularly unique.
I found the pace and transitions of Paulista to be very similar to that of the classic TV show miniseries Tales of the City, which was set in San Francisco. At the heart of both works is a message of people needing people, with a focus on how complicated our human desires and needs for validation can be.
Paulista is a sexy, enjoyable romp about a group of young people in the prime of their lives. Nothing more, nothing less.
~~~
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Hot Tub Time Machine
This morning I saw Hot Tub Time Machine, starring John Cusack and Rob Corddry.
It was the topic of Cinebanter #86, which is available here.
It was the topic of Cinebanter #86, which is available here.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Alice in Wonderland
Tonight I saw Alice in Wonderland, starring Mia Wasikowska and Johnny Depp.
I must confess: as a child I never liked the famed Lewis Carroll book. It simply creeped me out. I had a wild imagination of my own and the last place I wanted to take it was to a world with black holes and talking cats.
But tonight, my love for the creative fusion of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp won out over the unfavorable memories I had of the story, and I sat through the whole film. I'm so glad I did.
Mia Wasikowska is the very picture of a perfect Alice (except her hair was too curly, but I digress), and she's all grown up. In fact, she's just been proposed to by a boy she's not in love with and needs to escape the situation to take some time and think. She finds the perfect excuse to depart as she spots a rabbit in a waistcoat in her peripheral vision, then bolts away after it, only to fall down a big black hole.
Upon landing she's in a place she once called Wonderland (though she has no memory of ever visiting before) where she encounters all types of interesting characters: the Mad Hatter (Depp), Tweedledee and Tweedledum (Matt Lucas), the Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) and a pair of sister queens—one good and one bad.
The good one is the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) who lives in a white palace with white things surrounding her. She seems sweet if not a little bit spacey.
The bad one is the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) who suffers from harboring a huge head and a horrible demeanor to go with it. "Off with his head" is a common phrase she screams, perhaps because she wishes she could rid herself of her own.
Anyway, somehow Alice gets caught up in the drama between sisters and has to slay the Jabberwocky to make everything right. She repeatedly insists that she doesn't slay and believes the whole ordeal is a dream from which she will soon wake, driving home the metaphorical theme of free will throughout the film.
And themes are big here.
In a deep conversation with the Mad Hatter, he asks her if he's bonkers and she replies that he is, but all great people are. It's a theatrical fist pump to all the crazy geniuses out there, and it was a nice—if not obvious—touch.
Also emphasized is female independence. From Alice confronting her sister with the fact she may not marry her suitor, to the queens leading their respective entourages into battle, this whole world is controlled by women.
I'm glad I got to spend time in Wonderland. This version is much less frightening than the one I created in my head as a child, and even the scariest of characters have comedic redemption.
Plus, watching Johnny Depp do a mean Futterwack is worth the price of admission.
~~~
I must confess: as a child I never liked the famed Lewis Carroll book. It simply creeped me out. I had a wild imagination of my own and the last place I wanted to take it was to a world with black holes and talking cats.
But tonight, my love for the creative fusion of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp won out over the unfavorable memories I had of the story, and I sat through the whole film. I'm so glad I did.
Mia Wasikowska is the very picture of a perfect Alice (except her hair was too curly, but I digress), and she's all grown up. In fact, she's just been proposed to by a boy she's not in love with and needs to escape the situation to take some time and think. She finds the perfect excuse to depart as she spots a rabbit in a waistcoat in her peripheral vision, then bolts away after it, only to fall down a big black hole.
Upon landing she's in a place she once called Wonderland (though she has no memory of ever visiting before) where she encounters all types of interesting characters: the Mad Hatter (Depp), Tweedledee and Tweedledum (Matt Lucas), the Cheshire Cat (Stephen Fry) and a pair of sister queens—one good and one bad.
The good one is the White Queen (Anne Hathaway) who lives in a white palace with white things surrounding her. She seems sweet if not a little bit spacey.
The bad one is the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter) who suffers from harboring a huge head and a horrible demeanor to go with it. "Off with his head" is a common phrase she screams, perhaps because she wishes she could rid herself of her own.
Anyway, somehow Alice gets caught up in the drama between sisters and has to slay the Jabberwocky to make everything right. She repeatedly insists that she doesn't slay and believes the whole ordeal is a dream from which she will soon wake, driving home the metaphorical theme of free will throughout the film.
And themes are big here.
In a deep conversation with the Mad Hatter, he asks her if he's bonkers and she replies that he is, but all great people are. It's a theatrical fist pump to all the crazy geniuses out there, and it was a nice—if not obvious—touch.
Also emphasized is female independence. From Alice confronting her sister with the fact she may not marry her suitor, to the queens leading their respective entourages into battle, this whole world is controlled by women.
I'm glad I got to spend time in Wonderland. This version is much less frightening than the one I created in my head as a child, and even the scariest of characters have comedic redemption.
Plus, watching Johnny Depp do a mean Futterwack is worth the price of admission.
~~~
Monday, March 15, 2010
Applause
Tonight I screened Applause, starring Paprika Steen and Michael Falch.
Thea (played by the brilliant Steen) is an alcoholic actress who has lost everything except for her career. Christian (Falch) is her kind ex-husband and the father of her two sons. He has moved on with a new, lovely woman, but still cares for Thea and wants to help her renew her relationship with their kids.
Like many troubled parents, Thea realizes that to be a good mother she must first win the fight with her demons. Although the demon here is the somewhat conventional 'alcohol' demon, her struggle metaphorically could represent anyone who has suffered from self-loathing or unresolved issues that prevent them from true happiness.
To get past this darkness and loneliness, Thea makes an honest effort to clean herself up and get to know her boys. By reaching out in a healthy way, her ex and his present girlfriend allow her visits and family time with all of them. She is grateful for this and puts down the bottle during the transition. But she can't quite ever leave her life behind—though she's not knocking back whiskey anymore, she still sits at the neighborhood bar with a mineral water. Alone. Though that life of addiction clearly makes her miserable, it is there she feels most comfortable.
Things can't be the way they used to be because everyone else has moved on. This is a devastating realization to Thea, who continues her awkward journey through motherhood for the duration of the film.
As we cringe at her missteps and sympathize with the more balanced characters in the film, it's not hard to imagine how desperate we're all made to feel when we arrive at such a place of heartache.
If we can't make peace with ourselves, what good are we to anyone else?
~~~
Thea (played by the brilliant Steen) is an alcoholic actress who has lost everything except for her career. Christian (Falch) is her kind ex-husband and the father of her two sons. He has moved on with a new, lovely woman, but still cares for Thea and wants to help her renew her relationship with their kids.
Like many troubled parents, Thea realizes that to be a good mother she must first win the fight with her demons. Although the demon here is the somewhat conventional 'alcohol' demon, her struggle metaphorically could represent anyone who has suffered from self-loathing or unresolved issues that prevent them from true happiness.
To get past this darkness and loneliness, Thea makes an honest effort to clean herself up and get to know her boys. By reaching out in a healthy way, her ex and his present girlfriend allow her visits and family time with all of them. She is grateful for this and puts down the bottle during the transition. But she can't quite ever leave her life behind—though she's not knocking back whiskey anymore, she still sits at the neighborhood bar with a mineral water. Alone. Though that life of addiction clearly makes her miserable, it is there she feels most comfortable.
Things can't be the way they used to be because everyone else has moved on. This is a devastating realization to Thea, who continues her awkward journey through motherhood for the duration of the film.
As we cringe at her missteps and sympathize with the more balanced characters in the film, it's not hard to imagine how desperate we're all made to feel when we arrive at such a place of heartache.
If we can't make peace with ourselves, what good are we to anyone else?
~~~
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Philosopher Kings
Today I screened the documentary The Philosopher Kings.
How many of us have ever felt invisible? And if so, how often?
The folks featured in this film represent one of the most invisible professions in our society—custodians. Sure, we all realize there's someone responsible for cleaning every office or establishment we visit, but they're usually around after we've all gone home and disappear before we return. Seldom do we know them by name.
The janitors here all have something in common: they work at colleges or universities. They also share something else: a mutual love for their work.
What many would consider to be menial, miserable labor, these folks feel is a somewhat pleasant, honest way to make a living. One female subject even goes so far as to say "I like cleaning."
That's not to say they don't have bad days or resent the fact that some feel they didn't have a choice in their selection of profession (yes, by the way, they did). But for the most part, these are happy, productive, successful professionals.
What's refreshing about the group shown here is that they are both male and female, and represent a wide variety of cultures. All are articulate, well-spoken individuals who seem to have overcome major obstacles in their life (one lost a parent as a child; another lost a limb in a car crash, etc.) and arrived at a place of peace in their current situation.
Coming from a blue collar family myself, I have a great respect for how hard manual labor can be. I've seen the physical and mental exhaustion after a difficult day, and realize the toll it takes on one's body and mind.
If only the veil were more obviously lifted so that everyone could see what life is like for custodians—and every other profession that entails physically serving others—I'm certain they would be held in higher regard and appreciated appropriately for what they do.
To purchase a DVD of The Philosopher Kings, click here.
How many of us have ever felt invisible? And if so, how often?
The folks featured in this film represent one of the most invisible professions in our society—custodians. Sure, we all realize there's someone responsible for cleaning every office or establishment we visit, but they're usually around after we've all gone home and disappear before we return. Seldom do we know them by name.
The janitors here all have something in common: they work at colleges or universities. They also share something else: a mutual love for their work.
What many would consider to be menial, miserable labor, these folks feel is a somewhat pleasant, honest way to make a living. One female subject even goes so far as to say "I like cleaning."
That's not to say they don't have bad days or resent the fact that some feel they didn't have a choice in their selection of profession (yes, by the way, they did). But for the most part, these are happy, productive, successful professionals.
What's refreshing about the group shown here is that they are both male and female, and represent a wide variety of cultures. All are articulate, well-spoken individuals who seem to have overcome major obstacles in their life (one lost a parent as a child; another lost a limb in a car crash, etc.) and arrived at a place of peace in their current situation.
Coming from a blue collar family myself, I have a great respect for how hard manual labor can be. I've seen the physical and mental exhaustion after a difficult day, and realize the toll it takes on one's body and mind.
If only the veil were more obviously lifted so that everyone could see what life is like for custodians—and every other profession that entails physically serving others—I'm certain they would be held in higher regard and appreciated appropriately for what they do.
To purchase a DVD of The Philosopher Kings, click here.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Professor
On Saturday I screened the documentary Professor.
It's not often that a film makes you want to pack your bags and move to Iowa to sign up for a college course, but that's exactly the reaction I had to this one.
The professor who gives the film its title is Rabbi Jay Holstein, an educator for nearly four decades at the University of Iowa. He's not handsome, he speaks with an intonation that's insanely annoying, and most of what he's talking about is unpopular and/or provocative, yet it's hard to take your eyes off of him.
The first soliloquy the audience here gets to witness is one that consists primarily of Dr. Holstein complaining about the way the university remodeled a lecture hall. Really. He told them to "tear it down" and hates the fact that the configuration doesn't allow for him to catch every yawning face (so he can scold accordingly). He goes on and on ... and on about the hypocrisy of the setup and how he really has nothing much to say, but watching the eyes around the room, there isn't one student who can look away.
What is it about this guy?
Well, he's obnoxiously liberal and sarcastic in a non-forgiving way. But he's also undeniably sincere and self-deprecating. This combination of qualities balance out in the delivery of his rhythmic speaking. When tuning out "what" he was saying and just listening to his speech patterns, I was reminded of a great English teacher I had in high school that made me learn Vachel Lindsay poems by singing them. They meant nothing to me before I was prompted to do that, but now nearly 20 years later, I still hold onto a small book of his works—because I was moved by the rhythm of language. I have to believe that's part of what's making this man so magnetic.
Holstein would easily gel with a Seattle crowd, but he's undoubtedly "radical" by Iowa standards. He counsels a student about choosing Catholic priesthood, and doesn't hesitate to bring up the sexual scandals that have plagued the church for years along with his theories as to why they occur. He also frankly asks the kid whether or not he believes homosexuality is evil and by doing so solicits an honest, if not yet nervous, response.
Each scene we see where Holstein one-on-one with a student or a fellow adult is slightly more annoying and borderline intimidating than what we see in the classroom. There, he has enough space for his big ideas to be explored, but in the smaller settings he appears much more overwhelming.
I'd love to step into one of his lectures, brimming with brilliance and wit, to witness his energy live. It was so palpable on screen in this well-produced, organic-feeling film, I can only imagine what it must be like to experience in person.
~~~
It's not often that a film makes you want to pack your bags and move to Iowa to sign up for a college course, but that's exactly the reaction I had to this one.
The professor who gives the film its title is Rabbi Jay Holstein, an educator for nearly four decades at the University of Iowa. He's not handsome, he speaks with an intonation that's insanely annoying, and most of what he's talking about is unpopular and/or provocative, yet it's hard to take your eyes off of him.
The first soliloquy the audience here gets to witness is one that consists primarily of Dr. Holstein complaining about the way the university remodeled a lecture hall. Really. He told them to "tear it down" and hates the fact that the configuration doesn't allow for him to catch every yawning face (so he can scold accordingly). He goes on and on ... and on about the hypocrisy of the setup and how he really has nothing much to say, but watching the eyes around the room, there isn't one student who can look away.
What is it about this guy?
Well, he's obnoxiously liberal and sarcastic in a non-forgiving way. But he's also undeniably sincere and self-deprecating. This combination of qualities balance out in the delivery of his rhythmic speaking. When tuning out "what" he was saying and just listening to his speech patterns, I was reminded of a great English teacher I had in high school that made me learn Vachel Lindsay poems by singing them. They meant nothing to me before I was prompted to do that, but now nearly 20 years later, I still hold onto a small book of his works—because I was moved by the rhythm of language. I have to believe that's part of what's making this man so magnetic.
Holstein would easily gel with a Seattle crowd, but he's undoubtedly "radical" by Iowa standards. He counsels a student about choosing Catholic priesthood, and doesn't hesitate to bring up the sexual scandals that have plagued the church for years along with his theories as to why they occur. He also frankly asks the kid whether or not he believes homosexuality is evil and by doing so solicits an honest, if not yet nervous, response.
Each scene we see where Holstein one-on-one with a student or a fellow adult is slightly more annoying and borderline intimidating than what we see in the classroom. There, he has enough space for his big ideas to be explored, but in the smaller settings he appears much more overwhelming.
I'd love to step into one of his lectures, brimming with brilliance and wit, to witness his energy live. It was so palpable on screen in this well-produced, organic-feeling film, I can only imagine what it must be like to experience in person.
~~~
Monday, March 08, 2010
Buried Prayers
Yesterday I screened the documentary Buried Prayers.
Everyone recognizes the name Auschwitz, but not many know of the Maidanek death camp near Lublin, Poland. It was smaller, but endured similar horrors.
This heart-wrenching, predictably difficult-to-watch documentary doesn't tell the entire history of this camp that murdered nearly 80,000 people, but spotlights survivors returning to claim items that their fellow prisoners buried in their last moments of desperation.
It really is remarkable how they must have pulled it off.
Maidenek was geographically the closest concentration camp to a major city, and its prisoners who weren't killed, "worked" mostly at sorting possessions taken from other prisoners at various camps. When those who were facing their death knew their time was approaching, they would cleverly bury their sentimental items (wedding rings, etc.) while pretending to work. The Nazis never figured it out.
The camp was liberated by the Soviets in 1944 and it wasn't until 2005 that a group of survivors went back for the first time, and allowed archaeologists to accompany them and search for those buried treasures.
The film shows them recovering just a few items (in reality there were nearly 50 artifacts found), but the excitement and emotion that accompanies each discovery is incredibly moving. Worse are the memories shared of their time at the camp (one story about a son being forced to hang his father almost made me get up and walk out, it was so horrific).
But the film itself, yes, it was effective. I'm glad to know that things meant to be left behind in memory of those prisoners finally saw the light of day and created yet another way to convey the inhumane reign of Nazi power.
I just wonder—how many more original stories of pain will our world have to hear before all of the genocides stop?
~~~
Everyone recognizes the name Auschwitz, but not many know of the Maidanek death camp near Lublin, Poland. It was smaller, but endured similar horrors.
This heart-wrenching, predictably difficult-to-watch documentary doesn't tell the entire history of this camp that murdered nearly 80,000 people, but spotlights survivors returning to claim items that their fellow prisoners buried in their last moments of desperation.
It really is remarkable how they must have pulled it off.
Maidenek was geographically the closest concentration camp to a major city, and its prisoners who weren't killed, "worked" mostly at sorting possessions taken from other prisoners at various camps. When those who were facing their death knew their time was approaching, they would cleverly bury their sentimental items (wedding rings, etc.) while pretending to work. The Nazis never figured it out.
The camp was liberated by the Soviets in 1944 and it wasn't until 2005 that a group of survivors went back for the first time, and allowed archaeologists to accompany them and search for those buried treasures.
The film shows them recovering just a few items (in reality there were nearly 50 artifacts found), but the excitement and emotion that accompanies each discovery is incredibly moving. Worse are the memories shared of their time at the camp (one story about a son being forced to hang his father almost made me get up and walk out, it was so horrific).
But the film itself, yes, it was effective. I'm glad to know that things meant to be left behind in memory of those prisoners finally saw the light of day and created yet another way to convey the inhumane reign of Nazi power.
I just wonder—how many more original stories of pain will our world have to hear before all of the genocides stop?
~~~
Mother
On Saturday night, I screened Mother, starring Kim Hye-Ja and Weon Bin.
There are very few limits to a mother's love.
When mentally disabled Do-jun (Bin) is accused and arrested for the murder of a beautiful young girl in their Korean village, his widowed, devoted mother (Hye-Ja) takes matters into her own hands to prove his innocence. The trouble is, no one truly knows what happened on that fateful night.
Do-jun hangs around primarily with Jin-tae (Jin Gu) who is a troublemaker that easily convinces Do-jun to follow suit. Just days before the brutal murder, both are punished for damaging a car and attacking a group of golfers following a hit-and-run accident. Do-jun's lack of intelligence puts him in an unreliable position to convey the truth. He also has a very violent response to folks who tease him about his condition.
After he is booked for the crime and the case is considered closed, his mother (who has limited means and runs an underground acupuncture business) retains a lawyer and searches for the truth. We're led through a series of possibilities based on what she learns from the deceased girl's friends, and begin to develop a sympathy for the situation.
Rooting for this mother to get to the bottom of what the police won't investigate, our natural instincts want her to be correct, not because we like her son so much, but because we sympathize with her pain of raising a special needs child. At the same time, our rational minds wonder if there is more to the story.
Turns out: there is. Much. More. To. The. Story.
And it goes on, and on, and on, until we almost don't care who killed the poor girl as long as we'll be released from the narrative purgatory at some point.
The film started strong with excellent acting by all of the main characters and a few shocking moments of violence (squeamish me could do without so much blood, though). Yet the sheer volume of information we're made to wade through for what some may interpret to be a simple resolution is not necessary.
Plus, the ending happened three times before the film was over. It would've helped to conclude it at the first opportunity, but instead we're forced to endure lengthy, excessive scenes that minimize the impact of the actual discovery.
A shame, considering the concept and acting were so solid.
~~~
There are very few limits to a mother's love.
When mentally disabled Do-jun (Bin) is accused and arrested for the murder of a beautiful young girl in their Korean village, his widowed, devoted mother (Hye-Ja) takes matters into her own hands to prove his innocence. The trouble is, no one truly knows what happened on that fateful night.
Do-jun hangs around primarily with Jin-tae (Jin Gu) who is a troublemaker that easily convinces Do-jun to follow suit. Just days before the brutal murder, both are punished for damaging a car and attacking a group of golfers following a hit-and-run accident. Do-jun's lack of intelligence puts him in an unreliable position to convey the truth. He also has a very violent response to folks who tease him about his condition.
After he is booked for the crime and the case is considered closed, his mother (who has limited means and runs an underground acupuncture business) retains a lawyer and searches for the truth. We're led through a series of possibilities based on what she learns from the deceased girl's friends, and begin to develop a sympathy for the situation.
Rooting for this mother to get to the bottom of what the police won't investigate, our natural instincts want her to be correct, not because we like her son so much, but because we sympathize with her pain of raising a special needs child. At the same time, our rational minds wonder if there is more to the story.
Turns out: there is. Much. More. To. The. Story.
And it goes on, and on, and on, until we almost don't care who killed the poor girl as long as we'll be released from the narrative purgatory at some point.
The film started strong with excellent acting by all of the main characters and a few shocking moments of violence (squeamish me could do without so much blood, though). Yet the sheer volume of information we're made to wade through for what some may interpret to be a simple resolution is not necessary.
Plus, the ending happened three times before the film was over. It would've helped to conclude it at the first opportunity, but instead we're forced to endure lengthy, excessive scenes that minimize the impact of the actual discovery.
A shame, considering the concept and acting were so solid.
~~~
The House of Branching Love
On Saturday, I screened The House of Branching Love.
The house in this film should be renamed "The House of Branching Jealousy and Revenge." It centers around the supposedly amicable divorce between Tuula (Elina Knihtilä) and Juhani (Hannu-Pekka Björkman), and follows each of them on their path to emotionally destroy the other.
Sounds heavy, huh? Not so much.
When determining house rules so the two can continue living together for a period of time, they decide that no "new" people should be staying at the home, but then both promptly break that rule much to each other's dismay. The slapstick elements of the film begin when a carelessly tossed cigar starts the yard on fire as the husband receives oral sex. I have to agree with my partner when he says these slapstick moments ruined the story for him. They were unnecessary and excessive.
But aside from that, we got to see a few beautiful people, namely Nina (Anna Easteden) and Marco (Ilkka Villi) have sex and show off their beautiful bodies. You see, both members of the married couple essentially hire folks to service them in view of their soon-to-be ex. And that (unsurprisingly) backfires.
As if that weren't enough, there is a mob subplot that is so incredibly far-fetched it makes the slapstick seem almost feasible.
A big disappointment, this film.
~~~
The house in this film should be renamed "The House of Branching Jealousy and Revenge." It centers around the supposedly amicable divorce between Tuula (Elina Knihtilä) and Juhani (Hannu-Pekka Björkman), and follows each of them on their path to emotionally destroy the other.
Sounds heavy, huh? Not so much.
When determining house rules so the two can continue living together for a period of time, they decide that no "new" people should be staying at the home, but then both promptly break that rule much to each other's dismay. The slapstick elements of the film begin when a carelessly tossed cigar starts the yard on fire as the husband receives oral sex. I have to agree with my partner when he says these slapstick moments ruined the story for him. They were unnecessary and excessive.
But aside from that, we got to see a few beautiful people, namely Nina (Anna Easteden) and Marco (Ilkka Villi) have sex and show off their beautiful bodies. You see, both members of the married couple essentially hire folks to service them in view of their soon-to-be ex. And that (unsurprisingly) backfires.
As if that weren't enough, there is a mob subplot that is so incredibly far-fetched it makes the slapstick seem almost feasible.
A big disappointment, this film.
~~~
Complaints Choir
On Saturday, I screened the documentary Complaints Choir.
A Finnish couple (Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen) thought it would be interesting to direct energy that we typically use to complain for a greater purpose. Their idea was to create a chorus of folks airing their grievances, big and small, then hold performances under the name "Complaints Choir." They were right: it was interesting.
What makes the experiment so compelling is the vast difference between how communities and countries react to it. Us Americans, of course, have no trouble listing out things that bother us and shouting it at the top of our lungs. Heck—we're practically famous for our loud mouths. But when the 'tour' arrives in Singapore, the tunes take a different turn.
Recruiting for the choir was not too difficult. Though folks were hesitant to admit fault with their lives publicly, many still stepped forward to do so. Some even seemed to be creating a makeshift therapy session for themselves.
Like the Yankees, these folks had minor complaints (waiting in lines, inconsiderate people) and major complaints (government, family), and were willing to sing about them in equal measure. But when rehearsals were well underway and the local police caught wind of what was about to take place, they forbid the singers from performing under threat of arrest. It seems free speech is not a privilege Singaporeans are allowed to enjoy.
So now their complaints are merely immortalized on the official film site and in this documentary. And Singapore appears to be humorless and really, really oppressive. Their government clearly did nothing to dispute this portrayal.
The Complaints Choir has since expanded to over 20 countries so far (some that we would have assumed similar to Singapore in restrictions, but weren't), and the idea is catching on. The organizers offer how-to instructions about creating your own on the film site. This particular documentary only focuses on the Singapore and Chicago choirs, but the spirit of the movement is captured well.
And after you see it, you'll leave wanting to craft a song about your problems each time they arise.
~~~
A Finnish couple (Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen) thought it would be interesting to direct energy that we typically use to complain for a greater purpose. Their idea was to create a chorus of folks airing their grievances, big and small, then hold performances under the name "Complaints Choir." They were right: it was interesting.
What makes the experiment so compelling is the vast difference between how communities and countries react to it. Us Americans, of course, have no trouble listing out things that bother us and shouting it at the top of our lungs. Heck—we're practically famous for our loud mouths. But when the 'tour' arrives in Singapore, the tunes take a different turn.
Recruiting for the choir was not too difficult. Though folks were hesitant to admit fault with their lives publicly, many still stepped forward to do so. Some even seemed to be creating a makeshift therapy session for themselves.
Like the Yankees, these folks had minor complaints (waiting in lines, inconsiderate people) and major complaints (government, family), and were willing to sing about them in equal measure. But when rehearsals were well underway and the local police caught wind of what was about to take place, they forbid the singers from performing under threat of arrest. It seems free speech is not a privilege Singaporeans are allowed to enjoy.
So now their complaints are merely immortalized on the official film site and in this documentary. And Singapore appears to be humorless and really, really oppressive. Their government clearly did nothing to dispute this portrayal.
The Complaints Choir has since expanded to over 20 countries so far (some that we would have assumed similar to Singapore in restrictions, but weren't), and the idea is catching on. The organizers offer how-to instructions about creating your own on the film site. This particular documentary only focuses on the Singapore and Chicago choirs, but the spirit of the movement is captured well.
And after you see it, you'll leave wanting to craft a song about your problems each time they arise.
~~~
Oil Rocks: City Above the Sea
On Saturday I screened the documentary Oil Rocks: City Above the Sea.
Traveling 6 hours from the nearest shore in the Caspian Sea and you'll find a fully-functioning separate society, built on the life of oil.
Commissioned by Stalin in the late 40s, over 2000 workers (some who came on board during its inception) work there today. And despite their generally sunny demeanor, I had to wonder: what if I lived and breathed and died for only one purpose for the rest of my adult life?
These folks wake early to get started with (usually) heavy, dangerous labor; break for meals (which are similar each day as evidenced by the glimpse we get of the "bread shop" that offers much of what it always has—bread, cheese, sausage); work some more, then retire to the dormitory, where many of them share rooms the size of ... well ... a college dormitory. It seems unfair to witness those folks living such a modest life when their very existences are dedicated to the success of one of the richest commodities on earth.
They all speak passionately about their duties and the past (there was a terrible accident in the 50s), but they don't focus a whole lot on their relationships. You get the sense they all get along well enough (they'd almost have to for survival), but we don't see clusters of folks getting together for card games or dozens of couples falling in love, either. They do point out that many of the dormitory floors are 'women only' so they can remain separate from the men.
The film is presented in traditional documentary style: talking head interviews spliced with footage, old and new. But I'll admit to getting a little bored when they remained with one subject or person for too long.
Though the residents clearly succeed in completing their tasks at hand, I wonder how well the younger generations will acclimate to regular society when they're forced to in about 20 years (when the oil well will ultimately dry up).
Perhaps another filmmaker will spotlight the transition when it happens.
~~~
Traveling 6 hours from the nearest shore in the Caspian Sea and you'll find a fully-functioning separate society, built on the life of oil.
Commissioned by Stalin in the late 40s, over 2000 workers (some who came on board during its inception) work there today. And despite their generally sunny demeanor, I had to wonder: what if I lived and breathed and died for only one purpose for the rest of my adult life?
These folks wake early to get started with (usually) heavy, dangerous labor; break for meals (which are similar each day as evidenced by the glimpse we get of the "bread shop" that offers much of what it always has—bread, cheese, sausage); work some more, then retire to the dormitory, where many of them share rooms the size of ... well ... a college dormitory. It seems unfair to witness those folks living such a modest life when their very existences are dedicated to the success of one of the richest commodities on earth.
They all speak passionately about their duties and the past (there was a terrible accident in the 50s), but they don't focus a whole lot on their relationships. You get the sense they all get along well enough (they'd almost have to for survival), but we don't see clusters of folks getting together for card games or dozens of couples falling in love, either. They do point out that many of the dormitory floors are 'women only' so they can remain separate from the men.
The film is presented in traditional documentary style: talking head interviews spliced with footage, old and new. But I'll admit to getting a little bored when they remained with one subject or person for too long.
Though the residents clearly succeed in completing their tasks at hand, I wonder how well the younger generations will acclimate to regular society when they're forced to in about 20 years (when the oil well will ultimately dry up).
Perhaps another filmmaker will spotlight the transition when it happens.
~~~
Sunday, March 07, 2010
1981
On Friday I screened 1981, starring Jean-Carl Boucher and Claudio Colangelo.
In 1981, the Trogi family moved to a nicer home, which meant they had to make do with less to afford it. Ricardo (Boucher) was 11 years old at the time and found the change to be very disruptive.
Ricardo's parents were good, blue-collar people who only wanted the best for their two children (Ricardo also had a younger sister). They worked long hours and extra jobs to earn enough to provide for their kids.
Ricardo was typical in the sense that he just wanted what every other boy was entitled to—a new gadget called a Walkman, and of course the latest clothes that would help him look good for his crush, one-time tutor Anne Tremblay.
He narrates the film for us in a humorous, honest way in the spirit of the Wonder Years. He shows us how he manipulates his parents into giving him things, obsesses over the relationship (or more accurately, a brushing of the arm) with Anne, and shares his desperate attempts to fit in with the cool kids by promising them issues of Playboy (which of course, he does not possess).
It's simultaneously endearing, self-deprecating, hopeful and sad.
When Ricardo realizes how hard his uneducated Dad (Colangelo) is working to make ends meet, the guilt sets in and we watch him "grow up" virtually overnight. There are wonderful scenes surrounding this transformation that also offer a perspective on why men who meet as boys often stay lifelong friends.
I enjoyed the journey into this loss of innocence, and even though some of the 80s fun had been played similarly in prior films (there's always a kid in KISS makeup, for example), it still worked well in this context. The extra touches added a welcome lightness to some of the darker themes playing out, and the family seemed like a true family.
Another pleasant element is that this story really was based on the writer/director's life. The real Ricardo Trogi showed sincerity and wit without giving in to self-indulgence, which made this one of the most appealing films I saw at the Cinequest Film Festival.
I do hope 1981 gains distribution so everyone can discover its charming appeal.
~~~
In 1981, the Trogi family moved to a nicer home, which meant they had to make do with less to afford it. Ricardo (Boucher) was 11 years old at the time and found the change to be very disruptive.
Ricardo's parents were good, blue-collar people who only wanted the best for their two children (Ricardo also had a younger sister). They worked long hours and extra jobs to earn enough to provide for their kids.
Ricardo was typical in the sense that he just wanted what every other boy was entitled to—a new gadget called a Walkman, and of course the latest clothes that would help him look good for his crush, one-time tutor Anne Tremblay.
He narrates the film for us in a humorous, honest way in the spirit of the Wonder Years. He shows us how he manipulates his parents into giving him things, obsesses over the relationship (or more accurately, a brushing of the arm) with Anne, and shares his desperate attempts to fit in with the cool kids by promising them issues of Playboy (which of course, he does not possess).
It's simultaneously endearing, self-deprecating, hopeful and sad.
When Ricardo realizes how hard his uneducated Dad (Colangelo) is working to make ends meet, the guilt sets in and we watch him "grow up" virtually overnight. There are wonderful scenes surrounding this transformation that also offer a perspective on why men who meet as boys often stay lifelong friends.
I enjoyed the journey into this loss of innocence, and even though some of the 80s fun had been played similarly in prior films (there's always a kid in KISS makeup, for example), it still worked well in this context. The extra touches added a welcome lightness to some of the darker themes playing out, and the family seemed like a true family.
Another pleasant element is that this story really was based on the writer/director's life. The real Ricardo Trogi showed sincerity and wit without giving in to self-indulgence, which made this one of the most appealing films I saw at the Cinequest Film Festival.
I do hope 1981 gains distribution so everyone can discover its charming appeal.
~~~
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Live Action Short Film Nominees (Oscars® 2010)
Tonight I saw all five of the nominated films in the Live Action Short category. I'll present my reviews in the order they were shown.
KAVI (India)
In this dismal drama, a young boy desperately wants to go to school, but instead must work to repay his father's debt by constructing bricks. It's inspiring to see how resourceful and clever this slave child is, but the scenes of abuse his family endures make the film almost too unbearable to appreciate.
THE NEW TENANTS (Denmark)
A gay couple moves into an apartment that was recently vacated due to the murder of its former tenant. After a somewhat witty rant from one of the occupants, there is a knock at the door, which results in the first of four visitors that take this potentially smart concept past any point of pleasurable comedy. It feels more like a college film project than an Academy Award nominated piece. Plus, the ending is just silly.
MIRACLE FISH (Australia)
A child of modest means goes to school on his birthday only to be teased by his classmates for not getting the latest toys as gifts. He heads to the sick room where he dreams of having the school all to himself, free of the pain. When he wakes up, the hallways are dark and the classrooms are empty, so he begins to enjoy the new-found freedom. It's very satisfying to watch this victim of a bully dive into treats he normally wouldn't get and take pleasure in the solace that comes with eliminating negativity in life. But he soon finds out he's not alone and the film makes a sharp turn. Luckily, the impact of the message remains crystal clear.
THE DOOR (Ireland)
Only those familiar with the 1986 nuclear accident at Chernobyl will fully absorb the tragedy played out here, as a family struggles to navigate their loss and suffering. The first scene, though relevant in its purpose, is vastly out of pace with the rest of the film, which makes it hard to accept the muted rhythm that permeates each additional scene. Nonetheless, a powerful snapshot of a horrible historical event.
INSTEAD OF ABRACADABRA (Sweden)
The only blatant comedy of the bunch, this silly scenario centers around a 25-year-old man who wants nothing more than to be a professional magician. He tests tricks out on his parents (sometimes unsuccessfully), shocks children at birthday parties and develops a crush on a pretty blond, whom he tries to impress with his hobby. This is a fun, if not pointless, ride to take, and the ending is fabulous.
It's probably not hard to guess that my pick for this year's Live Action Short Film statue goes to Miracle Fish, but I wouldn't be terribly disappointed if The Door prevailed instead.
KAVI (India)
In this dismal drama, a young boy desperately wants to go to school, but instead must work to repay his father's debt by constructing bricks. It's inspiring to see how resourceful and clever this slave child is, but the scenes of abuse his family endures make the film almost too unbearable to appreciate.
THE NEW TENANTS (Denmark)
A gay couple moves into an apartment that was recently vacated due to the murder of its former tenant. After a somewhat witty rant from one of the occupants, there is a knock at the door, which results in the first of four visitors that take this potentially smart concept past any point of pleasurable comedy. It feels more like a college film project than an Academy Award nominated piece. Plus, the ending is just silly.
MIRACLE FISH (Australia)
A child of modest means goes to school on his birthday only to be teased by his classmates for not getting the latest toys as gifts. He heads to the sick room where he dreams of having the school all to himself, free of the pain. When he wakes up, the hallways are dark and the classrooms are empty, so he begins to enjoy the new-found freedom. It's very satisfying to watch this victim of a bully dive into treats he normally wouldn't get and take pleasure in the solace that comes with eliminating negativity in life. But he soon finds out he's not alone and the film makes a sharp turn. Luckily, the impact of the message remains crystal clear.
THE DOOR (Ireland)
Only those familiar with the 1986 nuclear accident at Chernobyl will fully absorb the tragedy played out here, as a family struggles to navigate their loss and suffering. The first scene, though relevant in its purpose, is vastly out of pace with the rest of the film, which makes it hard to accept the muted rhythm that permeates each additional scene. Nonetheless, a powerful snapshot of a horrible historical event.
INSTEAD OF ABRACADABRA (Sweden)
The only blatant comedy of the bunch, this silly scenario centers around a 25-year-old man who wants nothing more than to be a professional magician. He tests tricks out on his parents (sometimes unsuccessfully), shocks children at birthday parties and develops a crush on a pretty blond, whom he tries to impress with his hobby. This is a fun, if not pointless, ride to take, and the ending is fabulous.
It's probably not hard to guess that my pick for this year's Live Action Short Film statue goes to Miracle Fish, but I wouldn't be terribly disappointed if The Door prevailed instead.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Shutter Island
This morning I saw Shutter Island, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Kingsley.
The year is 1954 and Federal Marshall Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) is sent to investigate a disappearance at a mental hospital off the shores of Boston called Shutter Island. He is accompanied by his nonchalant partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) who strangely calls him "Boss" though they've only just met.
The backdrop of a messy storm sets the mood for their arrival, as the seasick Daniels accepts aspirin from hospital staff to combat his queasy feelings. Soon he's feeling up to interrogation and requests interviews with all personnel on duty the night of the missing patient's disappearance. He is met with resistance (and even sarcasm) from many as he asks basic questions to solve the mystery.
One of the most passive aggressive road blocks on his journey is Dr. Cawley (Kingsley), a powerful psychiatrist who seems to be hiding something.
When Teddy and Chuck can't get to the answers they're looking for, they decide to leave the island the following morning, but the violent weather stops them, so they continue exploring the institution on their own, against the wishes of the staff.
Throughout their search, Teddy is haunted by visions of his deceased wife Dolores (Michelle Williams) and reveals he has ties to the institution due to her murder. He also seems to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, having flashbacks from assisting in the liberation of Nazi-occupied Germany.
The entire film is Teddy's journey to find the truth in whatever context the film is referring to during that specific beat. It's at times all over the place and alternately solid and linear.
Scorsese creates a fantastic creepy mood from the opening credits and sustains that quiet unrest right up until the end. The images (especially of Nazi Germany) are sometimes horrific; other times just bloody (though I'll have to admit a scene full of squeaking rats takes the cake for most-likely-to-cause-nightmares).
The characters are all crafted well--each has something unique to hide, yet it's hard to know who to trust.
Leonardo DiCaprio, who is in nearly every frame of the film, plays every emotion with sincerity; from the angry and arrogant Federal Marshall to the fragile, grieving widow. The expression in his face carries us from scene to scene, guiding our reactions and filling us with whatever feelings he's meant to experience.
The ending provides a hot conversation topic for anyone who likes to challenge such resolution, and provides a satisfactory conclusion for those who prefer closure.
Really, Shutter Island is the very definition of a successful psychological thriller. It will keep you guessing hours after you leave the theater...that is, if you want to keep guessing.
The year is 1954 and Federal Marshall Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) is sent to investigate a disappearance at a mental hospital off the shores of Boston called Shutter Island. He is accompanied by his nonchalant partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) who strangely calls him "Boss" though they've only just met.
The backdrop of a messy storm sets the mood for their arrival, as the seasick Daniels accepts aspirin from hospital staff to combat his queasy feelings. Soon he's feeling up to interrogation and requests interviews with all personnel on duty the night of the missing patient's disappearance. He is met with resistance (and even sarcasm) from many as he asks basic questions to solve the mystery.
One of the most passive aggressive road blocks on his journey is Dr. Cawley (Kingsley), a powerful psychiatrist who seems to be hiding something.
When Teddy and Chuck can't get to the answers they're looking for, they decide to leave the island the following morning, but the violent weather stops them, so they continue exploring the institution on their own, against the wishes of the staff.
Throughout their search, Teddy is haunted by visions of his deceased wife Dolores (Michelle Williams) and reveals he has ties to the institution due to her murder. He also seems to be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, having flashbacks from assisting in the liberation of Nazi-occupied Germany.
The entire film is Teddy's journey to find the truth in whatever context the film is referring to during that specific beat. It's at times all over the place and alternately solid and linear.
Scorsese creates a fantastic creepy mood from the opening credits and sustains that quiet unrest right up until the end. The images (especially of Nazi Germany) are sometimes horrific; other times just bloody (though I'll have to admit a scene full of squeaking rats takes the cake for most-likely-to-cause-nightmares).
The characters are all crafted well--each has something unique to hide, yet it's hard to know who to trust.
Leonardo DiCaprio, who is in nearly every frame of the film, plays every emotion with sincerity; from the angry and arrogant Federal Marshall to the fragile, grieving widow. The expression in his face carries us from scene to scene, guiding our reactions and filling us with whatever feelings he's meant to experience.
The ending provides a hot conversation topic for anyone who likes to challenge such resolution, and provides a satisfactory conclusion for those who prefer closure.
Really, Shutter Island is the very definition of a successful psychological thriller. It will keep you guessing hours after you leave the theater...that is, if you want to keep guessing.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Hell Is Other People
Tonight I screened Hell Is Other People, starring Richard Johnson.
Morty (Johnson) is sad. Not because of something specific that's necessarily happened to him, but more likely because of everything that hasn't. He hasn't found anyone to share his life with (though he does have a very 'present' ex who he obviously cares for), he doesn't have a career, and there isn't any proof of aspiration to do more than he's currently doing. Being broke induces a forced indifference.
Director Jarrod Whaley captures the absurdity of lonely living quite well. After all, what is time when you have nowhere to be?
Morty needs money so he claims a friend owes him for a recent 'favor', or he simply performs odd jobs to fill in the blanks (the oddest: acting as a makeshift shrink for a guy even more troubled than him). Nothing about his actions suggest things will get better, but for some reason, we don't hate him for that.
Chattanooga, Tenn. provides a perfect backdrop for the slow pace and discussions of the characters in this film. The mood feels Southern; polite with a natural tendency to get heated. All of the friends and acquaintances talk to and about one another just as we all do in real life. The women also appear to talk a lot more. Fair enough.
Morty is easily the link between all of these folks, though he's probably the least interesting, and that's what makes this comedy so tragic.
Social graces are a hot commodity in our world of new media. Though we never see Morty updating his Facebook page, we get the sense he'd be more comfortable doing that than striking up a conversation with a stranger. It's not that he wouldn't want the connection—he just doesn't know how to go about creating it (a scene where he asks his doctor's receptionist out is especially painful to watch).
Hell is a solid indie with especially good character development, but perhaps not enough "showing" vs. "telling." I do wish there had been more situations instead of scenes that linger just a tad too long, but I was engaged throughout, nonetheless.
Each step of the way, we're led to silently root for Morty's success, yet he continues to disappoint us. This happens with people in our real world, why shouldn't it happen in cinema?
Hell is Other People premieres at Cinequest 20 on February 27. Visit Cinequest.org for details.
~~~
Morty (Johnson) is sad. Not because of something specific that's necessarily happened to him, but more likely because of everything that hasn't. He hasn't found anyone to share his life with (though he does have a very 'present' ex who he obviously cares for), he doesn't have a career, and there isn't any proof of aspiration to do more than he's currently doing. Being broke induces a forced indifference.
Director Jarrod Whaley captures the absurdity of lonely living quite well. After all, what is time when you have nowhere to be?
Morty needs money so he claims a friend owes him for a recent 'favor', or he simply performs odd jobs to fill in the blanks (the oddest: acting as a makeshift shrink for a guy even more troubled than him). Nothing about his actions suggest things will get better, but for some reason, we don't hate him for that.
Chattanooga, Tenn. provides a perfect backdrop for the slow pace and discussions of the characters in this film. The mood feels Southern; polite with a natural tendency to get heated. All of the friends and acquaintances talk to and about one another just as we all do in real life. The women also appear to talk a lot more. Fair enough.
Morty is easily the link between all of these folks, though he's probably the least interesting, and that's what makes this comedy so tragic.
Social graces are a hot commodity in our world of new media. Though we never see Morty updating his Facebook page, we get the sense he'd be more comfortable doing that than striking up a conversation with a stranger. It's not that he wouldn't want the connection—he just doesn't know how to go about creating it (a scene where he asks his doctor's receptionist out is especially painful to watch).
Hell is a solid indie with especially good character development, but perhaps not enough "showing" vs. "telling." I do wish there had been more situations instead of scenes that linger just a tad too long, but I was engaged throughout, nonetheless.
Each step of the way, we're led to silently root for Morty's success, yet he continues to disappoint us. This happens with people in our real world, why shouldn't it happen in cinema?
Hell is Other People premieres at Cinequest 20 on February 27. Visit Cinequest.org for details.
~~~
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The White Ribbon
Today I saw The White Ribbon, starring Susanne Lothar and Christian Friedel.
Black and white film can't make a story work, but it most certainly can enhance a story that's already good. This is the case in this moody, quiet drama from director Michael Haneke.
Once you get the characters straight (some of them look similar, and well, they all dress alike) you're led into an unconventional whodunnit featuring a village full of suspects.
The pre-World War I German setting itself builds suspense, as the audience knows what becomes of the nation in the decades to follow. Each scene passes along to something more that you realize will build and turn into something bad.
And that's how it unfolds: first, the town doctor has a freak accident (one that couldn't have taken place without the help of a human), then another person turns up dead. This is followed by a tortured child and the list goes on.
In between these ghastly happenings, we get to know many of the townspeople including the teacher who is narrating our journey (Friedel) and the scorned mistress of the doctor (Lothar). The revealing peek behind the curtain doesn't endear us to many of the citizens; it in fact does the opposite.
We witness abuse, we question motives, we sympathize with the children—well, at least some of the children—and we wonder if karma is just simply playing its punishment cards for all of the heinous behavior that goes on behind these closed doors.
True to form, Haneke (who attracted attention in 2005 with his thriller Caché) isn't going to spell it out for us.
There are many 'suspects' and layers of people to keep track of, but no clear-cut answer unless you're willing to believe the theory that's presented near the end. It certainly could be true, but if it was that easy, would our journey have been so rough?
Black and white film can't make a story work, but it most certainly can enhance a story that's already good. This is the case in this moody, quiet drama from director Michael Haneke.
Once you get the characters straight (some of them look similar, and well, they all dress alike) you're led into an unconventional whodunnit featuring a village full of suspects.
The pre-World War I German setting itself builds suspense, as the audience knows what becomes of the nation in the decades to follow. Each scene passes along to something more that you realize will build and turn into something bad.
And that's how it unfolds: first, the town doctor has a freak accident (one that couldn't have taken place without the help of a human), then another person turns up dead. This is followed by a tortured child and the list goes on.
In between these ghastly happenings, we get to know many of the townspeople including the teacher who is narrating our journey (Friedel) and the scorned mistress of the doctor (Lothar). The revealing peek behind the curtain doesn't endear us to many of the citizens; it in fact does the opposite.
We witness abuse, we question motives, we sympathize with the children—well, at least some of the children—and we wonder if karma is just simply playing its punishment cards for all of the heinous behavior that goes on behind these closed doors.
True to form, Haneke (who attracted attention in 2005 with his thriller Caché) isn't going to spell it out for us.
There are many 'suspects' and layers of people to keep track of, but no clear-cut answer unless you're willing to believe the theory that's presented near the end. It certainly could be true, but if it was that easy, would our journey have been so rough?
Monday, January 18, 2010
A Serious Man
Today I saw A Serious Man, starring Michael Stuhlbarg and Richard Kind.
Larry Gopnik (Stuhlbarg) will remind you of every Jewish man you've ever met. Not in a stereotypical way, but in a cultural way.
He seldom feels the need to raise his voice. His appearance is neat and tidy. His wife is bold and controlling. His work and his children and his property mean a lot to him.
Though he appears to be a dedicated husband, father and professor, each part of his world is slowly being dismantled by external forces. His wife is leaving him for his friend, his children are stealing and taking drugs, and a disgruntled student is attempting to sue him because he won't unfairly inflate his grade.
He also has a frightening militant neighbor, a live-in brother (Kind) who is in trouble with the law and difficulty getting an appointment with the sought-after rabbi at his temple. What would bury most men simply piles up in his mind, causing unavoidable nightmares.
I felt sorry for Larry—not just because he didn't appear to deserve all of the bad things that happened to him, but because his meek nature allowed it to continue. He solves most of these problems by throwing money at them (retaining a lawyer, paying for a motel room to sleep in when his wife kicks him out), but at least he's pressing on.
His resolve in the face of adversity is admirable, and though the scenes and situations are undoubtedly comical, it is refreshing to see a main character who doesn't run from his problems or throw things against a wall when things don't go his way.
Stuhlbarg plays the character expertly with quiet intensity. We can feel his tension and pain, but he doesn't burden us with it; it's all kept inside for him to manage. That is partly a credit to the odd, yet solid script from The Coen Brothers. It feels like a screenplay they spent time on, much like The Man Who Wasn't There, and their Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men.
There are many layers to A Serious Man that us viewers don't get to see, but what we do witness is endlessly satisfying. If how we react to things in life defines us, Larry Gopnik serves as a good example of how to deal.
Larry Gopnik (Stuhlbarg) will remind you of every Jewish man you've ever met. Not in a stereotypical way, but in a cultural way.
He seldom feels the need to raise his voice. His appearance is neat and tidy. His wife is bold and controlling. His work and his children and his property mean a lot to him.
Though he appears to be a dedicated husband, father and professor, each part of his world is slowly being dismantled by external forces. His wife is leaving him for his friend, his children are stealing and taking drugs, and a disgruntled student is attempting to sue him because he won't unfairly inflate his grade.
He also has a frightening militant neighbor, a live-in brother (Kind) who is in trouble with the law and difficulty getting an appointment with the sought-after rabbi at his temple. What would bury most men simply piles up in his mind, causing unavoidable nightmares.
I felt sorry for Larry—not just because he didn't appear to deserve all of the bad things that happened to him, but because his meek nature allowed it to continue. He solves most of these problems by throwing money at them (retaining a lawyer, paying for a motel room to sleep in when his wife kicks him out), but at least he's pressing on.
His resolve in the face of adversity is admirable, and though the scenes and situations are undoubtedly comical, it is refreshing to see a main character who doesn't run from his problems or throw things against a wall when things don't go his way.
Stuhlbarg plays the character expertly with quiet intensity. We can feel his tension and pain, but he doesn't burden us with it; it's all kept inside for him to manage. That is partly a credit to the odd, yet solid script from The Coen Brothers. It feels like a screenplay they spent time on, much like The Man Who Wasn't There, and their Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men.
There are many layers to A Serious Man that us viewers don't get to see, but what we do witness is endlessly satisfying. If how we react to things in life defines us, Larry Gopnik serves as a good example of how to deal.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus
Today I saw The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, starring Heath Ledger and Lily Cole.
Christopher Plummer plays the Doctor, who runs a traveling show with his daughter Valentina (Cole) and a couple of male freaks. He's truly ancient and has made a deal with the devil in return for his immortality (meaning: the daughter goes to the darkness at age 16 unless he does something to reverse the arrangement).
Tony (Ledger) is a man who Valentina and her sidekicks save from a hanging noose (and yes, since this is the first scene we see Ledger in, in the last movie we'll ever see Ledger in, it's especially difficult to watch). He soon proves to be the most valuable member of the traveling show, earning them heaps of money and spicing things up (he joins it because it provides a good front for the people he's hiding from).
Though Ledger doesn't play the main character, his presence does wake the audience up every time he dances (sometimes literally) into the frame. Aside from the rescue scene where he first turns up, the first 45 minutes of this film had me yawning. Circuses have always creeped me out, and as a plot device I think a traveling show with built-in freaks is kind of a screenwriting cop-out.
But anyway, the rumors are true that once the characters enter the Imaginarium, the film does pick up, if only because we want desperately to jump through the screen and create our own version of paradise along with them. It's visually stunning, if you're the romantic, rolling green hills type.
The transition in the Imaginarium from Heath Ledger to Johnny Depp (the first of three actors to take over the part when Ledger died) is utterly flawless, and Depp having all those years in the Tim Burton School of Weirdness feels right at home in the role. He even looks like Heath. Not so flawless: Jude Law, who looks like Jude Law with bad eyeliner.
That leaves the final portion of the role to Colin Farrell, who really gets better and better every day. The man appears to be channeling Ledger here and his charisma and good looks only help seal the deal.
But aside from the cool visuals, the typically great performance from the late Ledger, and the competency of his understudies, Director Terry Gilliam has again led us into an incomplete world of his own making, which simply begs to be properly grounded.
Christopher Plummer plays the Doctor, who runs a traveling show with his daughter Valentina (Cole) and a couple of male freaks. He's truly ancient and has made a deal with the devil in return for his immortality (meaning: the daughter goes to the darkness at age 16 unless he does something to reverse the arrangement).
Tony (Ledger) is a man who Valentina and her sidekicks save from a hanging noose (and yes, since this is the first scene we see Ledger in, in the last movie we'll ever see Ledger in, it's especially difficult to watch). He soon proves to be the most valuable member of the traveling show, earning them heaps of money and spicing things up (he joins it because it provides a good front for the people he's hiding from).
Though Ledger doesn't play the main character, his presence does wake the audience up every time he dances (sometimes literally) into the frame. Aside from the rescue scene where he first turns up, the first 45 minutes of this film had me yawning. Circuses have always creeped me out, and as a plot device I think a traveling show with built-in freaks is kind of a screenwriting cop-out.
But anyway, the rumors are true that once the characters enter the Imaginarium, the film does pick up, if only because we want desperately to jump through the screen and create our own version of paradise along with them. It's visually stunning, if you're the romantic, rolling green hills type.
The transition in the Imaginarium from Heath Ledger to Johnny Depp (the first of three actors to take over the part when Ledger died) is utterly flawless, and Depp having all those years in the Tim Burton School of Weirdness feels right at home in the role. He even looks like Heath. Not so flawless: Jude Law, who looks like Jude Law with bad eyeliner.
That leaves the final portion of the role to Colin Farrell, who really gets better and better every day. The man appears to be channeling Ledger here and his charisma and good looks only help seal the deal.
But aside from the cool visuals, the typically great performance from the late Ledger, and the competency of his understudies, Director Terry Gilliam has again led us into an incomplete world of his own making, which simply begs to be properly grounded.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Leap Year
Tonight I saw Leap Year, starring Amy Adams and Matthew Goode.
I'll start by saying, yes, I knew it would be terrible. But I needed a mindless girl movie tonight, and I suppose I deserved what I got.
Adams plays Anna, and the "A" stands for "Type-A." She stages apartments for a living in Boston and organizes the life of herself and her boyfriend for fun. Jeremy (Adam Scott) is an impressive cardiologist who is good to her, but has not yet popped the question, though they've been together for four years. When he travels to Dublin on business, Anna sees it as her opportunity to follow an Irish superstition and propose to him on February 29. All she needs to do is make it to Dublin and surprise him before then. She has one day...or maybe two days until the 29th. Ah, who cares? You know where this is going.
First, there's (scary, sudden) turbulence on her plane so they have to make an emergency landing in Cardiff. This is handled by the airline almost as nonchalantly as running out of gas with a AAA truck behind you on the highway.
Once Anna lands in Wales, she tries to convince the ticket agents to "re-open" the Dublin airport and when that (shockingly) doesn't work, she rents a boat. Somehow instead of ending up in Dublin, in the midst of the storm she finds herself on a tiny road in a remote Dingle village.
The locals nearly laugh her out of the pub she wanders into (tugging her Louis Vutton bag closely behind), but she has nowhere else to go, so she stays there for the night. What follows is the scene I was hoping wouldn't happen: the obligatory American Woman knocks out the town's power trying to plug in her Blackberry™.
But wait, it gets worse.
The pub owner just happens to be Declan (Goode), who is rough around the edges, but undeniably cute. He agrees (for a large sum) to drive her to Dublin the next day. Small talk turns into sexual tension (via "arguing") and then a herd of cows delay their trip. You heard me: a Herd of Cows. On an Irish country road. The only thing surprising about this scene was that it was cows, not sheep.
Anyway, because of some ridiculous chain of events caused by Anna's American princess impatience, they're soon car-less and back on the road. And they miss a train. And they have to stay in a charming Bed & Breakfast, pretending of course to be married because the old Irish folk wouldn't rent the room to a sinning couple.
I won't even bore you with the rest because you already know what happens. How it happens isn't even difficult to decode.
I'm just incredibly disappointed these delightful actors took the roles because the material was way beneath their talent. Perhaps they just wanted the free time in Ireland? I should hope that was the reason.
And I hope they never do it again.
I'll start by saying, yes, I knew it would be terrible. But I needed a mindless girl movie tonight, and I suppose I deserved what I got.
Adams plays Anna, and the "A" stands for "Type-A." She stages apartments for a living in Boston and organizes the life of herself and her boyfriend for fun. Jeremy (Adam Scott) is an impressive cardiologist who is good to her, but has not yet popped the question, though they've been together for four years. When he travels to Dublin on business, Anna sees it as her opportunity to follow an Irish superstition and propose to him on February 29. All she needs to do is make it to Dublin and surprise him before then. She has one day...or maybe two days until the 29th. Ah, who cares? You know where this is going.
First, there's (scary, sudden) turbulence on her plane so they have to make an emergency landing in Cardiff. This is handled by the airline almost as nonchalantly as running out of gas with a AAA truck behind you on the highway.
Once Anna lands in Wales, she tries to convince the ticket agents to "re-open" the Dublin airport and when that (shockingly) doesn't work, she rents a boat. Somehow instead of ending up in Dublin, in the midst of the storm she finds herself on a tiny road in a remote Dingle village.
The locals nearly laugh her out of the pub she wanders into (tugging her Louis Vutton bag closely behind), but she has nowhere else to go, so she stays there for the night. What follows is the scene I was hoping wouldn't happen: the obligatory American Woman knocks out the town's power trying to plug in her Blackberry™.
But wait, it gets worse.
The pub owner just happens to be Declan (Goode), who is rough around the edges, but undeniably cute. He agrees (for a large sum) to drive her to Dublin the next day. Small talk turns into sexual tension (via "arguing") and then a herd of cows delay their trip. You heard me: a Herd of Cows. On an Irish country road. The only thing surprising about this scene was that it was cows, not sheep.
Anyway, because of some ridiculous chain of events caused by Anna's American princess impatience, they're soon car-less and back on the road. And they miss a train. And they have to stay in a charming Bed & Breakfast, pretending of course to be married because the old Irish folk wouldn't rent the room to a sinning couple.
I won't even bore you with the rest because you already know what happens. How it happens isn't even difficult to decode.
I'm just incredibly disappointed these delightful actors took the roles because the material was way beneath their talent. Perhaps they just wanted the free time in Ireland? I should hope that was the reason.
And I hope they never do it again.
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