Today I saw Joker, starring Joaquin Phoenix and Robert De Niro.
Arthur (Phoenix) is a working-class clown who likes to make children laugh, cares tenderly for his elderly mother (Frances Conroy) and harbors an innocent crush on his attractive neighbor (Zazie Beetz). By all accounts, Arthur is a nice person just trying to life his life.
When he's attacked by some kids who steal the sign he's holding as part of his job, then beaten up by the same crowd when he attempts to retrieve it, it's easy to brim with sadness for him. Through a brief glimpse into one of his therapy sessions, we learn he's on a cocktail of drugs to aid in his mental health and that he dreams of being a stand-up comedian.
Arthur is also obsessed with a Johnny Carson-like talk show hosted by Murray Franklin (De Niro) and watches faithfully. He finally gets the chance to perform at a local comedy club and it doesn't go so well, but Franklin picks up clips from the disaster and uses them on his program, which leads to an invitation for Arthur to appear.
Meanwhile, a colleague gives Arthur a gun for protection, which he graciously accepts. You don't have to be a mathematician to realize that a mentally ill, constantly bullied man with a firearm is a bad idea ... but that's as far as I can go without spoiling.
I must say this, however: Joaquin Phoenix is nothing short of phenomenal in the role. Every expression, every ounce of pain Arthur experiences seeps from his pores onto the screen. When he aches, you ache for him, and when he rages; well—you sort of can't help but rage along with him.
It's truly an intense character study into the deterioration of the human spirit. Someone who could've had a shot at leading a decent life, but got kicked around too many times, and that coupled with other factors creates a monster, somewhat literally. The narrative got so intense I almost couldn't breathe, so I stepped into the lobby to take a moment. I can't remember the last time I film got to me in the same way.
Joker is tragic to claustrophobic proportions and more disturbing than it would be otherwise if our world wasn't presently so cruel.
Incredibly well done.
~~~
Showing posts with label Robert De Niro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert De Niro. Show all posts
Friday, October 18, 2019
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Joy
Last night I saw Joy, starring Jennifer Lawrence and Robert De Niro.
Joy Mangano (Lawrence) is an inventor, entrepreneur and multimillionaire—but it took a lot of work for her to get there.
As a single mom in the late 80s, Mangano was always thinking up ways to make life a little easier. One of those ideas led to her invention of the Miracle Mop; at the time, a revolutionary cleaning device that was self-wringing and machine washable. This film tells the story (loosely) of how she was able to sell her idea to the right entity despite a difficult dysfunctional family and no prior business experience.
Jennifer Lawrence (though a bit young to be playing Joy) dazzles as the headstrong woman who seems to solve all of her family's problems. She has a depressed mother living downstairs and a friendly ex-husband in the basement as she raises her two kids, juggles a crazy sister and works full time. But she manages to do it all as she invents what will become her breakthrough product.
De Niro plays her father Rudy just as you'd expect him to; forcefully, lovingly, borderline annoyingly. Of course, he's perfect. But unfortunately, the film isn't.
Each step taken, each word spoken, each concentrated look delivered is far too exaggerated. The camera whizzes around each scene like a drunk cocktail party guest while us audience members spend more time looking at Lawrence's hair than thinking about the developing plot.
Sure, there are brief "miracle" moments, like every time Bradley Cooper shows up as Joy's business contact. And the story itself (especially for women) is inspiring because the real-life woman went on to be an even greater success (and yes, the Miracle Mop is being re-released with a new spin TOMORROW, so she's obviously still entrepreneurial-minded).
But unlike the sincerity of director David O'Russell's other hits like Silver Linings Playbook, the heart was missing from Joy, leaving us bleached of emotion.
~~~
Joy Mangano (Lawrence) is an inventor, entrepreneur and multimillionaire—but it took a lot of work for her to get there.
As a single mom in the late 80s, Mangano was always thinking up ways to make life a little easier. One of those ideas led to her invention of the Miracle Mop; at the time, a revolutionary cleaning device that was self-wringing and machine washable. This film tells the story (loosely) of how she was able to sell her idea to the right entity despite a difficult dysfunctional family and no prior business experience.
Jennifer Lawrence (though a bit young to be playing Joy) dazzles as the headstrong woman who seems to solve all of her family's problems. She has a depressed mother living downstairs and a friendly ex-husband in the basement as she raises her two kids, juggles a crazy sister and works full time. But she manages to do it all as she invents what will become her breakthrough product.
De Niro plays her father Rudy just as you'd expect him to; forcefully, lovingly, borderline annoyingly. Of course, he's perfect. But unfortunately, the film isn't.
Each step taken, each word spoken, each concentrated look delivered is far too exaggerated. The camera whizzes around each scene like a drunk cocktail party guest while us audience members spend more time looking at Lawrence's hair than thinking about the developing plot.
Sure, there are brief "miracle" moments, like every time Bradley Cooper shows up as Joy's business contact. And the story itself (especially for women) is inspiring because the real-life woman went on to be an even greater success (and yes, the Miracle Mop is being re-released with a new spin TOMORROW, so she's obviously still entrepreneurial-minded).
But unlike the sincerity of director David O'Russell's other hits like Silver Linings Playbook, the heart was missing from Joy, leaving us bleached of emotion.
~~~
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Book Review: THE REENACTMENTS
This morning I finished reading The Reenactments, a memoir by Nick Flynn.
There are memories from our lives that we're desperate to re-live every day; then there are those we'd love to bury forever.
Flynn's memoir bravely chronicles the latter, as he recounts the filming of Being Flynn, a movie based on his earlier memoir Another Bullshit Night in Suck City.
His life was not ordinary: raised by a single mother in a Massachusetts beach town, his taxi-driving, alcoholic father was not around to see him grow up. Once he had grown up, his mother had committed suicide and his father was without a permanent address.
A lost soul in many ways, Flynn ended up with an addiction problem of his own, and was reunited with his father only when he began working in the shelter where his father sometimes slept.
He struggled with the loss of his mother as he tried to navigate his way through his 20s and maintained a complicated relationship with his dad; all the while becoming the brilliant writer that he is today.
This book shares in great detail what he felt like when each part of his existence was played out for the big screen, with Robert De Niro in the role of his father; Julianne Moore acting as his mother and Paul Dano representing him.
What's magical in the way he tells it is how capable he is of communicating surreality.
One can only imagine what it must feel like to watch real people behaving the way that people within your reality once behaved, right down to specific conversations—let alone the most traumatic stages of said life. Flynn somehow captures that, with his unique style of writing that reads more like short bits of poetry than prose, yet remains completely accessible.
Though much of it is painful to read, my hope for the writer is that by putting those words to paper, some therapeutic healing occurred that will allow him to move past those memories.
Flynn's courage in this raw retelling is nothing short of admirable.
~~~
There are memories from our lives that we're desperate to re-live every day; then there are those we'd love to bury forever.
Flynn's memoir bravely chronicles the latter, as he recounts the filming of Being Flynn, a movie based on his earlier memoir Another Bullshit Night in Suck City.
His life was not ordinary: raised by a single mother in a Massachusetts beach town, his taxi-driving, alcoholic father was not around to see him grow up. Once he had grown up, his mother had committed suicide and his father was without a permanent address.
A lost soul in many ways, Flynn ended up with an addiction problem of his own, and was reunited with his father only when he began working in the shelter where his father sometimes slept.
He struggled with the loss of his mother as he tried to navigate his way through his 20s and maintained a complicated relationship with his dad; all the while becoming the brilliant writer that he is today.
This book shares in great detail what he felt like when each part of his existence was played out for the big screen, with Robert De Niro in the role of his father; Julianne Moore acting as his mother and Paul Dano representing him.
What's magical in the way he tells it is how capable he is of communicating surreality.
One can only imagine what it must feel like to watch real people behaving the way that people within your reality once behaved, right down to specific conversations—let alone the most traumatic stages of said life. Flynn somehow captures that, with his unique style of writing that reads more like short bits of poetry than prose, yet remains completely accessible.
Though much of it is painful to read, my hope for the writer is that by putting those words to paper, some therapeutic healing occurred that will allow him to move past those memories.
Flynn's courage in this raw retelling is nothing short of admirable.
~~~
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Taxi Driver
Last night I screened the 35th anniversary re-release of Taxi Driver, starring Robert De Niro and Jodie Foster.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
That line from The Beatles'"Eleanor Rigby"fits this film like a glove, as its main character, Travis Bickle (De Niro), tries to find companionship and contentment in 1970s New York.
He's a veteran of Vietnam (though that detail is not overblown) who has alienated himself intentionally from his family and taken on a job as a cab driver, working extended hours to combat his insomnia.
As he drives the streets of the gritty city, he witnesses horrific acts of violence and deviance. And though he's judgmental of these behaviors, he himself has a porn habit and thinks nothing of taking the woman of his dreams, Betsy (Cybill Shephard), to an adult film on their second date.
When Betsy up-and-leaves near the beginning of the film, Travis is baffled by her reaction and continues to attempt to connect with her, though she rejects him.
He becomes obsessed with righting wrongs in his own way, tries to rescue a not-yet-teenage prostitute, Iris (Foster), and purchases an arsenal of weapons to execute his plan. He is a fully functional, mentally ill mess of a person.
Having watched this film a handful of times on VHS and DVD doesn't compare for a moment to experiencing it on the big screen. Hearing the crowd react to the 'surprises' in the storyline and seeing repeated close-ups of the young De Niro acting primarily through expression truly reveals the genius of director Scorcese's depth.
Iconic lines are delivered with conviction; tension is built through the continuous loop of saxophone; just enough comic relief is introduced to allow the audience to breathe.
A pre-Giuliani New York City is the second most important character to De Niro's Travis, showed as the dangerous, dark place that it once was.
Something must also be said for Jodie Foster's amazing performance as a young hooker who knows no other life. The wisdom of this then-future Oscar winner shines through as she holds her own with De Niro and Harvey Keitel. It's a role all young actors should be forced to watch.
35 years later, Scorcese's masterpiece remains just that—a brilliant character study and master class on portraying mental illness.
~~~
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
That line from The Beatles'"Eleanor Rigby"fits this film like a glove, as its main character, Travis Bickle (De Niro), tries to find companionship and contentment in 1970s New York.
He's a veteran of Vietnam (though that detail is not overblown) who has alienated himself intentionally from his family and taken on a job as a cab driver, working extended hours to combat his insomnia.
As he drives the streets of the gritty city, he witnesses horrific acts of violence and deviance. And though he's judgmental of these behaviors, he himself has a porn habit and thinks nothing of taking the woman of his dreams, Betsy (Cybill Shephard), to an adult film on their second date.
When Betsy up-and-leaves near the beginning of the film, Travis is baffled by her reaction and continues to attempt to connect with her, though she rejects him.
He becomes obsessed with righting wrongs in his own way, tries to rescue a not-yet-teenage prostitute, Iris (Foster), and purchases an arsenal of weapons to execute his plan. He is a fully functional, mentally ill mess of a person.
Having watched this film a handful of times on VHS and DVD doesn't compare for a moment to experiencing it on the big screen. Hearing the crowd react to the 'surprises' in the storyline and seeing repeated close-ups of the young De Niro acting primarily through expression truly reveals the genius of director Scorcese's depth.
Iconic lines are delivered with conviction; tension is built through the continuous loop of saxophone; just enough comic relief is introduced to allow the audience to breathe.
A pre-Giuliani New York City is the second most important character to De Niro's Travis, showed as the dangerous, dark place that it once was.
Something must also be said for Jodie Foster's amazing performance as a young hooker who knows no other life. The wisdom of this then-future Oscar winner shines through as she holds her own with De Niro and Harvey Keitel. It's a role all young actors should be forced to watch.
35 years later, Scorcese's masterpiece remains just that—a brilliant character study and master class on portraying mental illness.
~~~
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