Silver Linings Playbook

Another quick review here (it is weird that the “bigger” a film is, the less I want to write about it?).  I quite enjoyed this movie.  It’s somewhat predictable at the end, but that’s how genre films (in this case, the romcom) usually are, and it manages to avoid staleness.  It’s not especially funny, but I appreciate how it uses mental illness as a source of humor without at all making light of it.  Does that makes sense?  What I mean is that the film acknowledges that it doesn’t just use people with problems as punchlines… it recognizes the humor that can arise from mental instability while acknowledging the humanity behind it.

The movie also considerably improved my opinions of many of the players.  It’s the best work I’ve seen from De Niro in ages, probably since Jackie Brown.  It reaffirmed my feelings that Lawrence is someone to keep an eye on, even in middling fare like Hunger Games.  Cooper isn’t an actor I’ve given much attention before, but he gives a strong performance here.  I realized I actually enjoy Chris Tucker… a lot.  Even Julia Stiles comes out looking pretty good.  On top of that, I’m gonna say this is the most I’ve enjoyed a David O. Russell film, though Three Kings come close.

Conventional without being cliché, offbeat without being quirky.  Enjoyable script and characters.  Rating: Very Good (83)

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Leave Her to Heaven (rewatch)

Novelist Richard Harland (Cornel Wilde) is heading to a New Mexico lodge owned by his attorney and friend Glen Robie (Ray Collins).  On the train, he meets Ellen Berent (Gene Tierney), who happens to be reading his book without knowing she’s sitting across from the author.  They both disembark at the same station, and Richard discovers that Ellen — along with her mother (Mary Philips) and adoptive sister Ruth (Jeanne Crain) — are also staying at Glen’s lodge.  They’ve arrived to scatter Ellen’s father’s ashes in his favorite place.  Ellen and Richard fall in love, she abruptly breaks off her engagement with a politically ambitious district attorney (Vincent Price), and the two are wed.  But as they try to settle into a life together, Ellen feels their romance is stifled by the presence of Richard’s disabled brother Danny (Darryl Hickman) and friend/caretaker Thorne (Chill Wills).  And when Ruth shows up for a visit, Ellen’s possessive jealousy rages.

There are certainly some downsides to this film.  Wilde is rather stiff and uninteresting, and Hickman is one of those cloying youths who says “gosh!” too much.  The courtroom finale, although it has a compelling performance by Price, features Collins as one of the most ineffective and aloof defense attorneys I’ve ever seen.  It’s never explained, and very strange.  And the movie does take some time to get going, it’s about 40 minutes before things start getting good.

But those early scenes are planting the seeds for Ellen’s psychosis.  In hindsight, it’s easy to identify the warning signs… severe daddy issues, impulsiveness, manipulation, self-absorption.  But when it’s all happening, we understand Richard’s inability to see the red flags.  For one, he’s blinded by her beauty… and the obvious but never stated sexual relations they’ve had.  But also, the hints of her disturbance are subtle, gradually building up to a femme fatale.  And it’s quite an unusual one.  Usually a femme fatale is fooling around behind the victim’s back, or hustling him for dough, or just plain mean.  Ellen is a femme fatale who does it for love… her own twisted, possessive, selfish love, but it’s all out of devotion to Richard and wanting him all to herself.

It’s an amazing performance by Tierney.  You can see the screws slowly coming loose.  She’s been in better movies — Night and the City, Where the Sidewalk Ends, arguably Laura – but I think this film showcases her best acting by far.  I rather like Crain, too… it’s a bland “good girl” role, but she manages to establish a presence.  And Price steals the show at the end.  Tack on gorgeous Technicolor photography and one hell of an iconic scene, and you’ve got some mighty fine (though not perfect) noir.  Rating: Very Good (84)

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To Be and To Have

Nicolas Philibert takes his camera inside a one-room schoolhouse in a rural French village for a year.  The teacher, Georges Lopez, is a soft-spoken man (and starting to think about retirement) in charge of about a dozen primary school children, ranging from roughly 5 to 12 in age.  In this setting, he’s able to give the kids some individual attention, and the class is so close-knit that the older children often look after the younger ones.

That’s about all there is to say regarding the content of the film.  It’s a very gentle and quiet film, filmed in the fly-on-the-wall direct cinema style of Allan King or Frederick Wiseman.  We see Lopez teaching the children, some of whom are brighter than others and need a little more direction.  We see field trips to the middle school library and a picnic (where, in the film’s only moment of “tension”, one of the smaller children gets momentarily lost in the tall grasses).  We see a couple of one-on-one discussions where Lopez is either talking one of his charges through a tough time or stimulating them to learn (one little boy begins to grasp the concept of infinity).  There are also frequent cutaways to the lovely French countryside, including the opening where a herd of very metaphorical cows are being gathered and guided.

It’s a charming and lovely movie, and elegant in its simplicity.  Because the class size is so small, most of the children emerge as distinct characters.  Just observing the process of learning has a calming and warming effect on the viewer.  The kids are adorable and for the most part well-behaved, respectful of their little community.  It’s also interesting to watch Lopez at work.  He’s patient and he’s also firm without being tyrannical.  And he’s not perfect.  In one of the most moving scenes, he tries to talk to Nathalie, who is moving up to the middle school in another town.  She’s shy and withdrawn, and Lopez tries to get her to open up about her feelings.  Although he is perfectly kind to her, there’s a sense that he’s not connecting with her… for whatever reason (and it could be the presence of the camera), Nathalie is slightly beyond his reach.

The film isn’t perfect, either.  In the middle, Lopez talks to the camera about his upbringing and how he got to be a teacher.  We hear someone (presumably Philibert) asking questions.  This break with the observational style is jarring, and adds little of value.  Except for this one scene, the camera only records, submerging us fully in this world.  I would have preferred not to have that disturbed.

But overall, it’s a movie full of smiles and some tears and the wonder of growth.  Lopez is not a remarkable man, except in the sense that all teachers are remarkable.  His students are not remarkable pupils, except in the sense that the process of learning itself is remarkable.  The affection you develop for these people is remarkable.  Rating: Very Good (81)

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Cloud Atlas

Tons of reviews out there already for this, so I’m just going to throw out some random thoughts, with no organization.

* Two words pop up frequently in reviews: “ambitious” and “messy”.  I agree with both, but it’s not as messy as I thought it would be.  The editing between the six storylines is actually handled quite gracefully.

* Soylent Green double reference… clever, too clever, or not clever enough?  I kind of groaned at it.

* Some of the makeup is absolutely astounding (I was shocked at a couple of entries in the ending credits) and some of it is absolutely wretched.  Whoever did Hugh Grant’s “Denholme Cavendish” makeup should be banned from Hollywood.

* I don’t know if the actors-in-multiple-roles thing adds enough to be worth the gimmickiness of it.

* The Wachowskis are incapable of seeing Hugo Weaving as anything but a villain.  Got it.

* Not a lot of subtlety going on here.  Pretty blunt and repetitive hammering of the themes.

* Despite the fact that it felt like the film was climaxing at the two hour mark, I didn’t mind the 40 minutes that came afterwards.  Surprisingly easy to watch.

* Tom Hanks as “Dermot Hoggins” is atrociously bad.  At least it only lasted a couple of minutes.

* Action sequences were brilliantly executed but got a little tiresome and started to feel gratuitous.

* Either Halle Berry is a better actress than I give her credit for, or I’m blinded by her stunning good looks.

* Even though I’m giving this a fairly low score, I didn’t hate watching it.  It’s a ballsy endeavor, for sure.  And at least it’s better than either Perfume or any of the Matrix movies.  I’d even give it another shot someday, but it left me thinking more about how impressive the production was than how the film resonated on any emotional or intellectual level.

Rating: Fair (69)

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TSPDT 2013: Exotica

The stories of four people in the Toronto area.  Christina (Mia Kirshner) is a very young dancer at the strip club “Exotica”.  Eric (Elias Koteas) is the club’s DJ and announcer.  Francis (Bruce Greenwood) is a frequent patron, an internal revenue auditor with a troubled past.  Thomas (Don McKellar) owns a pet store and has been smuggling rare bird eggs into the country.  As the film progresses, we learn how their stories are entwined, and how much more entwined they will become.

I’ve seen only one other film by Atom Egoyan, his follow-up feature The Sweet Hereafter, adapted from the Russell Banks novel.  Whereas that film starts with a tragedy and follows the individual character threads from that point, this one starts with the threads and gradually weaves them together to reveal the underlying tragedy.  It’s clever storytelling as Egoyan provides information in a way that never feels like klutzy exposition, and never leaves you scrambling to catch up.  It all unfolds very naturally, and as the relationships develop you find yourself wanting to know more.

Despite the sexually charged atmosphere (and Thomas’s cruising at the ballet), it’s not a film about sexuality.  Nor is it about the commerce of sex, or the financial dealings of Thomas or Francis.  Egoyan is primarily concerned with the comfort and security we need from other people, the vulnerability of leaving yourself exposed, and the complex processing of grief.

It’s an eloquent film with masterful construction, sharp visuals, and flashes of intriguing symbolism (to wit, the parrots).  My only criticism is that the lead performances, with the exception of Kirshner, feel too mannered.  Koteas especially comes off more like a fictional construction than a relatable human being.  I’m not of the opinion that all actors should be naturalistic at all times (I wouldn’t be a noir fan if I was) but there was an artifice to the three male leads that seemed at odds with the humanistic themes of the film.

It’s not a major impediment, the emotional tones of the movie still get through.  People find healing and comfort and companionship in unlikely places, and emotional support can be exchanged like any other transaction.  A thoughtful piece of work.  Rating: Very Good (82)

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I’ve now seen 997 of the 1000 films in the latest edition of the “They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?” list.  The exceptions are: Doomed Love (can’t find with English subtitles), The Art of Vision (can’t find at all) and Out 1: noli me tangere (have seen the shortened Spectre version and I’m annoyed that both are on the list, but I will watch if a good transfer becomes available).  I had a notion to revisit all the ones I’ve never reviewed.  However, that amounts to 87 films and I really would prefer to stay focused on my personal watchlist for now.  I may do some of them, but for the time being it’s low priority.

Something in the Air

It’s 1971, and Gilles (Clément Métayer) is a young anarchist, and also an artist finding his voice.  Revolution is messy, with clashing ideologies and lack of organization, and Gilles and his friends participate in unsuccessful, almost random acts of rebellion… jumping into a riot of hazy origin, defacing the high school with vague slogans.  After one of their shenanigans results in serious trouble, Gilles and his friend Alain (Felix Armand) take off for Italy… leaving the innocent Jean-Pierre (Hugo Conzelmann) to handle the mess.  With Gilles’s artistic girlfriend Laure (Carole Combes) off on her own thing and out of the picture, Gilles strikes up a loose relationship with the more political-minded Christine (Lola Créton), while Alain hooks up with the American Leslie (India Salvor Menuez).  As they float around discussing politics, their young hearts start wandering towards matters of love, art and identity… and Gilles develops an interest in filmmaking.

This semi-autobiographical film by Olivier Assayas is apparently a companion/follow-up/counterpoint to his earlier Cold Water.  Unfortunately I have yet to see that one, so comparisons and context will not be forthcoming in this review.

I found the film most effective in its portrayal of the French youth revolution.  The French title translates as “After May”, in reference to the May 1968 unrest in that country, a period of intense protest, rebellion, strikes and occupations.  It was a chaotic time of student uprising, and one that fizzled out due to disorganization and lack of a clear, consistent message.  A little Maoism here, some anarchy there, Trotskyism, Communism, Situationism, you name it.  It was a splintered and confusing mess, and the film eloquently articulates how scattershot it all was.  These kids are rebelling, and perhaps with good purpose, but they don’t know what they’re doing and there is no sense of consistent leadership.  It’s no wonder that they all eventually become disillusioned and disinterested.

But it’s not at heart a film about politics.  It’s more a coming-of-age tale, and Gilles learns to focus his energies and talents onto his art, examining and discarding different ideas, filtering out what has meaning to him.  It’s a pretty good performance by first-timer Métayer, a character with some sense of self in need of some direction.  There are also compelling turns by Créton and Menuez.  And I quite enjoyed the soundtrack, featuring some of my favorites, including Syd Barrett, Nick Drake, Tangerine Dream, and Booker T and the MG’s.  The movie has a bright, warm look to it, similar to the sunlight that bathes Summer Hours.

Although the rambling nature of the narrative suits the material — both the slipperiness of the politics and the looseness of the characters’ youthful wanderings — it does eventually get a bit tiring.  I was with the film for a good 90 minutes or so, but around that point I started getting a bit restless.  As the kids start to go their separate ways, the fragmentation and disconnect between the scenes becomes more bothersome.  I found myself wishing for a bit more focus, which does eventually come, but there is a section where I was ready for it to be over.

It’s not of one of Assayas’s best… in fact, among the few I’ve seen, I’d rank it as his least impressive.  But mainly because it lacks a certain distinction… it doesn’t feel especially fresh.  But there is some electricity to it (“something in the air”, you might say) and overall is a worthwhile experience, and solid filmmaking.  Rating: Good (74)

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TSPDT 2013: Numéro deux

The “story” of this film involves a husband (Pierre Oudrey) and wife (Sandrine Battistella), their two young children, and a pair of a grandparents.  The husband has problems with impotence and the wife has problems with constipation.  There are various scenarios — an argument over the washing machine, teaching the kids about the birds and the bees — but mostly the film is interesting for its form.  It plays out almost entirely on video monitors.  Usually two monitors… sometimes showing the same thing, sometimes different things, sometimes one is just static.  Sometimes one image is superimposed on another.  There’s also a lengthy opening where Godard free-associates some thoughts while ruminating on the tools of his trade, and expounds on the nature of “the landscape” and “the factory” (terms that come up over and over again throughout the film) and the factories of moviemaking.

The title has several layers of meaning.  Godard says the film is a remake of Breathless (hence, the “number two” version).  It isn’t recognizable as such, but it may be considered a new “first film” for him, taking his cinema in a bold new direction.  “Number two” can also refer to the second video screen.  Or the woman’s role in the home.  Or the bodily function.  Like the film itself, the movie operates on many levels.

Like a lot of Godard, it’s kind of a rambling mess, but I was less put off by it than I usually am by his work.  The structural idiosyncrasies helped maintain my interest, even when I either found the content more of Godard’s same old shtick or I was floundering to find some meaning in it.  There’s an anger and frustration to the film, in the crudeness of the material (numerous references to defecation and rape, graphic sexual imagery) and in the struggle to define a new type of filmmaking.  The political content was not overbearing, I didn’t feel like I was being brow-beaten by a barrage of quotes.

I’m in no rush to see it again, but for once it didn’t make me hate the guy.  Rating: Fair (67)

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Singapore

At the outbreak of the war in the Pacific, Matt Gordon (Fred MacMurray) is hiding smuggled pearls in his Singapore hotel room.  He meets Linda Grahame (Ava Gardner) and the two have a whirlwind romance.  Just as they’re about to get hitched, Matt gets word that the hotel has been taken over by the military in response to an incoming Japanese air raid.  Matt races back to his room but is unable to collect his stash.  When he returns to the chapel, it’s a pile of rubble, and there’s no sign of Linda.  Five years later, Matt returns to Singapore to collect his pearls.  But his hotel room is occupied by a middle-aged tourist couple (Porter Hall, Spring Byington).  And there are other parties interested in the loot, namely the British official Hewitt (Richard Haydn), the underworld figure Mauribus (Thomas Gomez) and his slimy sidekick Sascha (George Lloyd).  As Matt plans his next move, he spots Linda dancing with another man… her husband, Michael Van Leyden (Roland Culver).  Matt attempts to reunite with her, but she says she doesn’t know him.

Borrowing more than a little from Casablanca but distinct enough not to feel like a total ripoff, Seton Miller’s story could use a little more noir punch to it but it’s a decent slice of entertainment.  Likewise, John Brahm’s direction is not as memorable as his work on classics like The Locket or Hangover Square or The Lodger, but he captures some of the exotic flair of the region, and makes the most out of a rather hacky plot device.  And the recurring ceiling fan motif is handled quite nicely.

MacMurray and Gardner don’t have the greatest chemistry together, and although both are fine, they’re not giving it their best.  As is often the case, the supporting roles are more memorable, especially Lloyd’s reptilian, almost Peter Lorre-esque performance, and Culver as perhaps the most complicated character of them all.

It’s a case of not especially great or original material executed well enough to get by.  Brahm, Miller, MacMurray and Gardner have all done better… but you do could a lot worse for 75 minutes of intrigue, regret, yearning, and self-sacrifice.  Rating: Good (71)

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Unknown Pleasures

Well, I’ll be damned.  Even though I’ve been out of work and have no particular routine, I can still be affected by that Sunday ennui where I’m just not in the mood to write about — or even watch — movies.  So this’ll be the only review for today, and it’ll be a quick one.

The story is about two Chinese friends in their early manhood, Bin Bin (Zhao Wei Wei) and Xiao Ji (Wu Qiong).  Both are unemployed and, having few prospects, sit around doing not much of anything.  Bin Bin hangs out with his girlfriend Yuan Yuan (Zhou Qing Feng), a student, but most all they do is sit in a hotel room and watch movies.  His mother pesters him to do something with his life.  Xiao Ji tries out to be an actor (for stage plays promoting a brand of beer) and meets the pop star Qiao Qiao (Zhao Tao).  After some initial blunders, they strike up a relationship, but not without interference from Qiao Qiao’s gangsterish lover (Li Zhubin).

Like Tsai’s Rebels of the Neon God — or Jia’s own Platform, which gets referenced in the film — this is a film about disaffected youth in a decaying society.  They are caught in between traditional ways and Western influences (Pulp Fiction gets an extensive homage), lacking in opportunities, bombarded with bad news from the television to the point of numbness, and stuck spinning their wheels — in one instance, literally — with no direction and no hope for the future.  The only time they manage to work up any emotion is when they feel frustration.

Jia uses repetition to good effect here, whether in a single moment (Xiao Ji being slapped over and over again by the gangster’s thugs) or in mirroring a previous scene (the kiss that exchanges cigarette smoke).  However, there is also repetition of themes that can get a little tedious.  Some people are bothered by the slow pacing of the film.  That wasn’t an issue for me, but I did feel Jia made his points a little too often.

Still, it’s an interesting film with a few fantastic scenes.  The bleak ugliness of the environments is escalated by the gritty, unflattering video cinematography.  An unsentimental look at a generation floundering for purpose and options in life.  Rating: Good (79)

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Linda Linda Linda (rewatch)

Just some of things I love about this movie:

* Beat Happening posters on the walls of the practice room.  Beat Happening was very popular in Japan, in fact they recorded their first EP there.  Their DIY indie-pop music fits in perfectly with the movie’s musical sensibilities.

* James Iha’s instrumental score.  It’s really good.

* Kyoko suggests they cover the ultra-chipper J-pop band Puffy.  Kei responds, “Are you serious?”

* They discover a tape of “Linda Linda Linda” and bounce around singing into skull-shaped maracas.

* Son’s confused look as she gets invited into the band, and her panicky reaction when she realizes what she’s agreed to.

* The endearingly awkward conversation between Kei and Son at the bus stop… the start of a friendship.

* Nozomi’s little brother walking around repeating, “I’m hot”.

” Son practicing in a karaoke room, building her confidence and getting into it.

* Laughing at themselves after a terrible run-through of “My Right Hand”.

* Takako’s rooftop comic stand/juice bar.

* Son trying to cheer Kyoko up for being late to practice, giving her a playful little neck rub.

* Son’s nods of half-comprehension.

* Nozomi being impossible to wake up.

* The band’s amusement at Kei’s irritation/embarrassment with her ex-boyfriend.

* Son giggling over seeing Kyoko’s underwear.

* Sneaking into the practice room late at night, trying to play quietly and cracking themselves up.

* Yusaku uncomfortably confessing his love for Son, a traditional Japanese rite of passage.  Son’s reaction: “Can I go now?”

* Nozomi makes dinner for the band.

* Son rehearses her stage banter to an empty auditorium… you can tell how much she loves her new friends.

* Kei throws a “beef dart”.

* Kei’s “big hand” dream, featuring The Ramones.

* Moe and Takako stall for time.

* Rinko and Kei reconcile, in a way.

* Kyoko loses her nerve with Kazuya.  Not everything can result in triumph….

* ….but that ending is triumphant in spades.  What a joyous, cathartic moment.

* The smile that never leaves my face from the beginning to the end.  I love these girls.  I love their music and their humor and their problems and their friendship.  I don’t know if there is a better movie about adolescence.  It’s a thrilling, endlessly pleasurable experience spending time with Son, Kei, Nozomi and Kyoko.  Long live Param Maum!

Rating: Masterpiece (97)

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