Movie Advice of the Month: For the Ladies in the Audience. . .

Alex and I have decided to swap monthly features – he’ll select this month’s recipient of the “Clinty,” and I will offer the life lessons we wouldn’t realize but for the movies.

Here’s one for all the ladies that stop by the site from time to time (we know you’re out there – don’t try and deny it). Where would our relationships be without the movies? (I’m using “our” in the universal sense, of course) It’s so hard for men and women to understand one another, and that’s why the movies perform such an important public service. And, why it’s vital that we do exactly what they tell us to do.

So, ladies, here’s what the movies tell you to do – dump the guy you’re with. Dump him right now. Here’s why: he hates children, puppies, and your grandmother. On top of that, he’s secretly cheating on you and telling all of his friends. He’s an absolute [jerk], but you can’t see it because you’re so in love and dreaming about your perfect upcoming wedding. After all, he’ll change once you’ve gotten married, right? Don’t all guys eventually mature over time?

But, here’s the good news – your boyfriend/fiance’s best friend is perfect for you. He likes long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, and opening up to you about his feelings (and, as a side benefit, he's better looking than your current boyfriend). You can talk and talk for hours with him, and even though you’ve never had a clue, he really likes you (lots of guys will have 4-hour-long conversations with women they have no romantic interest in, right?). The problem, of course, is that he’s such a loyal friend and upstanding guy that he wouldn’t dream of damaging his friendship with your idiot of a boyfriend in order to tell you how he really feels. So it’s up to you. Do what’s right. Dump your boyfriend and marry his best friend. It’s probably what your mom did.

Note: Of course, if you've actually gone ahead and gotten married, this doesn't apply to you. We're sure you've made the right decision. Go ahead and dance around the dining room table with all your friends (yes, including the bitter unmarried one) singing along to Abba. You've earned it.

Random Movie Question: Match Director to Film Franchise

There’s been some interesting news as of late. Some directors have been put to film franchises that I would not have immediately associated. For example, Guillermo del Toro will be directing the adaptation of The Hobbit, with Peter Jackson producing. It’s an interesting choice, because del Toro is such a visually simulating director. If you’ve seen Pan’s Labyrinth or the Hellboy movies, you know what I mean. I can’t wait to see what he does with Smaug.

Then there’s the latest news over the weekend that Kenneth Branaugh is in talks to direct the Thor film in Marvel Comic’s Avenger series (connecting Iron Man, the Incredible Hulk, and Captain America). You may remember Branaugh from HP and the Chamber of Secrets (he played Gilderoy Lockhart) or from the number of Shakespeare’s plays that he’s directed for the big screen, including Hamlet, Henry V (which I need to see), and Much Ado About Nothing (tied as my favorite Shakespearen movie with Ian McKellen’s Richard III). He’s an interesting choice, certainly not one that I would have identified as a “comic book movie” director. Hopefully, he will bring the gravitas that Patrick Stewart and McKellen brought to the X-Men series (at least the first two films in that series).

A couple of weeks ago, “Moriarty” from Ain’t It Cool News gave an intriguing opinion (http://www.aintitcool.com/node/38353) about the next Superman movie. He thought that it would be interesting for the Coen brothers to direct the next movie – putting the ultimate man-without-guile into their O Brother and Hudsucker universe. Now, I don’t know if this is a good idea or not. Moriarty is basing it on a particular Superman story of which I’m not familiar. But that suggestion got me thinking, and that leads to this week’s RMQ:

What director do you think would make an interesting pairing with a particular story or film franchise?

The first thought I had for this was that Alfonso Cuarón would be perfect for Ender’s Game. If you’re not familiar with the story, it’s a sort of combination of Starship Troopers with Lord of the Flies. The main actors are children, and I think that Cuarón has demonstrated (with HP and the Prisoner of Azkaban) that he understands the relational dynamics between children, at least better than any of the other HP directors.

I’d also love to see Martin Scorese’s King Lear as a mob movie (like how Kirosawa brought the story into feudal Japan in Ran). With DeNiro in the title role, it would really be interesting from the perspective of the role of women (Lear’s 3 daughters as mob captains?) in contemporary Italian-American culture. Another Shakespeare film that could be interesting would be Wes Anderson’s As You Like It. There are enough off-beat melancholy characters in the play that it would fit perfectly in Anderson’s universe (Bill Murray as Jacques, the character who gives the “All the world’s a stage” speech, would be great).

What do you think? Should Spielberg direct the WWII-era Captain America origin story? Or Tom Hanks? Or Ron Howard? What about P.T. Anderson directing The Catcher in the Rye, or Charlie Kaufmann/Michel Gondry taking a crack at the oft-failed Don Quixote story? How long will we wait until Craig Brewer (Hustle & Flow) does a James Brown biopic with Eddie Murphy in the lead role?

Throw caution (and studio’s budgets) to the wind and come up with your most interesting pairings.

Counterpoint on Voiceover: Could Shawshank have been even better?

I come to this debate not to concede but to clarify statements that were made about me in Alex’s last post. Do I hate voiceover? Yes. Do I think that it is inherently sloppy and lazy screenwriting? Absolutely.

Alex states that the importance of voiceover is that it gives perspective. I disagree. The power of cinema (as opposed to live theater) is that the perspective we get comes directly from the characters. We get to see through their eyes. We get to feel what they feel. We get to take part in the action in a very emotional way. When a character (or narrator) breaks the “fourth wall” by speaking directly to the audience, that power is lost. It keeps the audience on the “outside” of the movie. And we lose that visceral connection to the character.

When a character tells us what (s)he is feeling, I stop experiencing the events of the film along the character and the movie becomes a much more objective than subjective experience for me. Great artists don’t attach a paragraph of explanation for their creations. Neither do great songwriters explain their songs in the CD liner notes. The joy for the audience is seeing choices played out of the screen and wondering “why did (s)he do that?” Decalogue: Six is a great example of that. I did not fully grasp the actions of either main character in the story, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked that. The last thing I would want is for one of them to tell me what (s)he was thinking.

Alex and I agree that voiceover for expositional purposes is worse than receiving socks for Christmas. It is, as he says, the essence of “Tell, don’t Show” – which is death to a movie. Imagine, if you will, that the expositional paragraph that begins each of the Star Wars films was not written to be read by the audience, but performed by one of the key characters (or even a narrator) while the audience takes a computer-generated tour of the galaxy.

Are you done shuddering at that possibility? Okay, let’s continue.

Voiceover is not the best way to bring us into a character’s mind. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his notes regarding the unfinished end of The Last Tycoon, “Action is Character.” Plot is the foundation to film, not dialogue or exposition. And action (driven by choice) is the foundation to character. As one of the reviewers (I think it was Adam) on the Filmspotting podcast said recently, “you don’t play adjectives, you play adverbs.” You don’t tell us that you’re sad, happy, introspective, or awestruck, you speak, walk, and make decisions based on the internal feelings. Telling the audience about the feelings or “lessons learn” [ugh] is a unsatisfying shortcut to that end.

Imagine at the beginning of Rushmore that Max Fischer tells us via voiceover how much he loves Rushmore and how he would stay there forever if he could, and then gives us access to his inner-most thoughts about Miss Cross. Even with Wes Anderson’s clever dialogue, it wouldn’t work near as well as how Anderson tells us about Max. He shows us what Max is like with the quick cuts of the 25 or so extra-curricular activities Max is involved with (along with his brilliant opening scene with Brian Cox), and shows us all we need to know about how he thinks of Miss Cross by saving Latin. Max’s creed (“I think you just gotta find something you love to do, and then do it for the rest of your life. For me it’s going to Rushmore.”) is given in the midst of dialogue. Could you imagine that line opening the movie given by voiceover?

Now, to the examples that Alex gave. I admit I don’t remember the voiceover in most of them. That could be due to: (1) bad short-term memory, or (2) that the voiceovers were utterly forgettable. Whatever the case, there are two films that use voiceover (in very different ways) that I must address, because I love both films (as in “top 20 films of all time” love).

The first is The Shawshank Redemption. This film may have been the beginning of my path down film snobbery (my “gateway drug” if you will). And yet, I have to concede that it’s not perfect. The acting is perfect. The dialogue is perfect. The direction is top notch (the iconic shot of Tim Robbins emerging from the sewer pipe being cleansed by the rain gives me goose bumps just thinking about it). And yet, I have to admit that I still don’t like the voiceover. It keeps me at arms length from the picture; it keeps the film just a little bit on the “cold” side for me. There are some terrific lines delivered by Morgan Freeman via voiceover (“I like to think that the last thing that went through the warden’s head, other than that bullet. . .”), but couldn’t those lines have been given just as well (or even better) in dialogue to another character?

The second is Adaption. Here is where I need to clarify what I mean by voiceover, because I will admit, in this films it just works. The film wouldn’t be near the same without it. But here’s why it works in this film as opposed to many of the others. (1) The film is a spoof of the movie “rules.” The Kaufmann brothers characterize the tension in screen writing between following formulas (the Robert McKee seminar) and true creative thinking. So, the irony is (as Alex noted) that he’s using voiceover in a creative way, not according to the formula. (2) Charlie Kaufmann is not talking to the audience with his voiceover – he’s talking to himself. And that’s an important distinction in the film. Because Kaufmann is a severe introvert, who else does he have to talk to? The focus of the film is completely internal, and therefore the internal dialogue given through voiceover works perfectly.

So, I come to the end of this piece with a clarification of what I mean when I say “voiceover.” When it is used to read a letter for the audience’s sake or for telepathic communication (like Galadriel to Frodo in FOTR), that’s fine. But what harms a film is when voiceover is used to speak directly to the audience. That is what keeps the audience from truly entering “into” the picture, and therefore negates the real visceral power of film.

Voicing about Voiceovers

Alright, y’all, it’s been a while. For that I apologize. However, I come to you now, in this great hour of need, to appeal to you to help Doug and I settle, insofar as that is even possible, a debate question.

As we settled yesterday to watch Decalogue VI,[1] the question came up about voiceover. It was inspired by a line from the movie Adaptation, where the brilliant Brian Cox portrays screenplay guru Robert McKee.[2] While speaking at his famous story seminar, ripping apart many different film writer faux pas, he quips in a harsh whisper, “And God help you if you use voiceover!” The nature of the disagreement came with my personal disagreement with him. I don’t think it’s true that voiceover is a bad thing. Doug, however (in his steely way), sided with the Adaptation McKee[3] that voiceover is cheap and never a good idea.[4]

I understood a lot of his reasons. It’s overdone, and often when it is done, it is done badly. I concede that completely. Especially when it’s expositional. Relying on voiceover to move the plot (as opposed to the Story itself – and there is a difference) can be a deadly mistake. You use dialogue, actions, scenes of tension; it’s the show-don’t-tell philosophy all over again. In that regard, voiceover can be completely destructive.

However, to say because of that, it is across-the-board weak – well, I can’t agree with that at all. I mean, some movies need voiceover, not for plot, but for story, because it is their perspective that is one of the key forces of the story. In this regard, it is like dialogue; dialogue that is expositional is cheap and boring, and often annoying, because it lacks perspective and interaction. Voiceover that is expositional is the same. But voiceover itself is like dialogue, in its own special way, because the perspective of the narrator is oftentimes the over-arching perspective of the story, and the interaction is of the narrator with the audience itself. Like the first person narrative in books, the narrator is telling us a story from his/her point of view. And when that works, that’s golden.

I think of it like flashbacks, which are like voiceovers in that they are incredibly hard to do well and they provide perspective. The crown jewel example of this would be Rashomon. The movie is almost completely perspectival – even the flashbacks told in the trial are set within the flashbacks of the three characters dialoguing in the film, and the point of the story is how each carries with it the character’s own perspective. Other films that do flashbacks in interesting and powerful ways could include Laura, Citizen Kane, Unbreakable, Enter the Dragon, Darjeeling Limited, The Bourne Ultimatum, and Big Fish. For every one of those films, there are of course one hundred or even a thousand that do flashbacks really badly, and the same could be said for voiceover, but that does not make the devices themselves bad; it makes them tricky, difficult, and risky. But as in many things, those that are tricky, difficult, and risky are often the stuff of the greatest and most powerful achievements, with the greatest payoff. Hell, in Casablanca, the flashbacks are probably the weakest part of the film, but I don’t know if it could’ve worked without it.

And I don’t know if utter gems like What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, The Shawshank Redemption, Legends of the Fall, V for Vendetta, Juno, or countless others would work without the voiceover. The voiceovers in these stories make the film, because of the perspectives they provide. I can’t imagine trying to adapt a book to film like The Catcher in the Rye without using voiceover, because it’s not just the story, it’s Holden Caulfield’s (somewhat skewed) perspective of the story that is important. The same is true for these other movies. And rather than get rid of these devices, we need to think of new and fresh ways to use them to empower us to continue to make masterpieces.

Of course, it is not secret that the line that sparked this entire debate is from a movie that heavily relies on voiceover. However, I would hold that Adaptation works because of the voiceover, not in spite of it. It is the singular perspective of Charlie Kaufman that makes something quite “uninteresting” (the struggle of the movie itself) quite interesting indeed.

So let us know what you think, and provide examples from either side of the debate.

Voiceover – 5/5

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[1] Which, incidentally, was incredibly brilliant. Review forthcoming.

[2] Cox was McKee’s own personal choice for the role, I’m told.

[3] It might be something he really thinks, but as I have never been to his seminar or read his book, I don’t know; the movie is all I have to go on.

[4] Yes, he did say never, I don’t care if he denies it =).

Random Movie Question: Who's Eeeevvviiiiiillllllll?

For this week's RMQ, we turn our attention to the world of film villainry. The characters we love to hate, whose predestined and glorious deaths cause us joy unspeakable (yes, vengeance is wrong -- but it can still be funny).

And so, here's the question asked solely to encourage participation on the blog: Who is your favorite underrated film villain?


This is an easy one for me. Without a doubt, it's Edward the Longshanks from Braveheart. Yes, I know that Braveheart may not be found on any "underrated" movie lists, but here's why I can claim Edward as underrated -- because none of you would have thought of him. So there.


Besides, Eddie is downright eeevvviilllll. "The problem with Scotland is that it's full of Scots." "If we can't get them out, we'll breed them out."

And this gem of dialogue:
Longshanks: Archers.
English Commander: I beg pardon sire. Won't we hit our own troops ?
Longshanks: Yes... but we'll hit theirs as well. We have reserves. Attack .

And what a comeuppances good ole’ Eddie gets from Sophie Marceau’s Princess Isabella: “Death comes to us all. But before it comes to you, know this: your blood dies with you. A child who is not of your line grows in my belly. Your son will not sit long on the throne. I swear it.” Ouch.

Four Fantastic Documentaries I've Seen This Summer

Gotta love documentaries. Well, then again, I guess you don’t gotta, but if you don’t, then there is probably something wrong with you. But that is neither here nor there, because if you don’t love documentaries, then you’re probably not reading this. And if you do like documentaries, then you’re probably getting irritated that I have not gone ahead and started the frickin’ post already. *sighs* Alright, on with the show.

Koyaanisqatsi

Well, it’s a classic. The title is a Native American word from the Hopi language meaning "Life out of balance," and the film suggests that that is just what modern living is. When I first began my quest of film snobbery, I watched this film. My friend and fellow contributor said this was like taking the elevator while everyone else was taking the stairs. I mean, as soon as you see the film, you’re instantly cultured. It contains no “script” whatsoever, only a series of videos and pictures which contrast nature to our current lifestyle in the post-Industrial West. It is brilliant and beautiful, and many of the shots are breath-taking. My favorite shot was when they transposed the rows of hotdogs going down an assembly line with a multitude of people going through rows of escalators. It was really wonderful – you just have to see it to appreciate what I’m saying. So for that reason and many others, go watch the film and become disillusioned with our consumerist/industrialists lifestyles which are certainly contrary to Creation. 5/5

For the Bible Tells Me So

A specifically Christian documentary which deals with the issue of GLBT[1] inclusion in the Church. It follows several Christian families as they deal with this issue personally, some who become pro-inclusion and others that remain “conservative.” For the most part, although the documentary is certainly biased towards inclusion, it is fair, and does not misrepresent dissenting views. This is a serious issue in the Church, and I think if anyone wishes to have an opinion on it, they need to openly and honestly deal with the objections and arguments - from several areas – that this documentary raises. 4.3/5

Deliver Us from Evil

This truly upsetting documentary has for its subject Oliver O’Grady, the infamous priest who raped and molested over one hundred children in California while filling the role of priest in several Catholic Churches. It deals very brutally with the horror of O’Grady’s crime, but has in the background a more sinister culprit that worked very hard for the sake of politics and saving face to hide the crimes: the Holy Roman Catholic Church. I love the Church, and hold myself as part of her fold, and that includes without shame my Catholic brothers, from Pope to Priest to “lay” person. However, I was as indignant and sorrowful and ashamed as anyone (especially as a Christian) when this documentary exposed the horrible actions of this Diocese and this priest, then showed the systemic cycle of evil that was happening all over the churches. There are several awful, heart-wrenching scenes that will bring tears to the eyes. 4.9/5

The End of Suburbia

This film tackles the ever-rising issue of the coming energy crisis, centered around our own oil-based economy. It argues cogently that oil depletion is very real, and that the decline of oil production will force the American culture with its mega-consumerism and silly spending like there is no tomorrow to be altered drastically. As our economic changes out of pure necessity (probably bringing with it some dark times), communities (so the film prophesizes) will become localized, centralized (“walkable”), and more self-sufficient. As our oil-based economy all but collapses, prices of all things will skyrocket because of our reliance upon trucks and highways. The local community will become the new economy, and people will become local producers. This is all, of course, a very important issue. However, I came away from the film with a great deal of hope. I think in many ways these predictions sound like a greater humanity, and perhaps the crisis could bring a great deal of good with it. Time will only tell. But regardless, it was a really good film. 4/5

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[1] That’s “Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual, and Transgendered” for those less informed ;).

Decalogue Five: Thou Shall Not Kill

"The law should not imitate nature, the law should improve nature.

People invented the law to govern their relationships.

The law determined who we are and how we live. We either observe it, or we break it.

People are free. Their freedom is limited only by the freedom of others.

Punishment means revenge.

In particular when it aims to harm, but it does not prevent crime.

For whom does the law avenge?

In the name of the innocent? Do the innocent make the rules?"

So, I'm writing this review, but I don't want to. I told Alex I would, then I gave it back to him, took it back, gave it back, and finally somewhere along the way it was generally understood that I was writing this review. Here's why I don't want to: (1) it's about the death penalty, so it's a messy subject; (2) it's the most non-linear of the episodes thus far, which might go to the issue that this is a truly messy issue with no easy answers -- this was not an easy episode to watch; (3) with those 2 issues being said, this episode was my favorite so far by far. It's hard to review what you love (see my Wall-E review for confirmation of that).

I am against the death penalty. It's been quite a hard road to come to this position, but I've come to it because the death penalty essentially de-humanizes the criminal. It makes them a non-person, having forfeited all rights. I'm reminded of the ancient practice where the condemned, just before their execution, would have their name erased from the civic registry. It's like they never existed. I just can't see the redemptive aspect there. I know many will argue that being on death row increases the possibility that the criminal will seek redemption with the victim's family and with Christ, but that's simply not justification for denying someone their humanity.

The Krysztof's (Kieślowski and Piesiewicz) are in full agreement here. This is not a balanced look at the death penalty. This is not Dead Man Walking. The state machinery of death is given the same level of scrutiny and condemnation as the punk kid who kills the cabbie. The Watcher even looks on both with indignation (holding a "measuring rod" in one scene -- is this the image of the Law as the "Standard" to measure up to?)

I love that they didn't make the criminal "good at heart," like some contemporary version of Jean Valjean. He's not. He's a punk. He watches in amusement as some fellow hooligans run down and beat up some poor victim. He tosses rocks off of overpasses and watches the ensuing automobile accidents. And, in one bizarre (and downright disgusting) moment, he tosses a young man into a urinal because he came whistling into the restroom. He's one brief step from a sociopath. He doesn't have a reason to kill the cabbie, he does because he can.

He's not good. But he's human. And the state can't deny that. The way they kill is in diametric oppostion to how the kid kills, but that doesn't make it any more justifiable. The kid's strangling of the cabbie takes a long time, and after a number of attempts, and various instruments used, he finally finishes the job. The state's method is quick and clean -- a simple jerk of the neck in a small antiseptic room. They've done this enough to have the procedure down pat. But I'm left wondering at the end of the film if the motivation for the state's killing isn't too far different from the kid. The state kills because it can.

The hero of the film is the young idealistic lawyer. The film opens with his monologue quoted above. He's been asked the question before, and the answer seemed easier then (he doesn't, as I recall, mention if his answer hasn't changed -- as mine would have over the years). He's the hero of the film because he never loses the young man's humanity. What the state says is "justice," he rightly calls "revenge."

When we look at something like capital punishment from a distance, the answers seem clear, the problems look inconsequential. But ethics is not done in a vacuum. We deal with the lives of people, messed-up people who despite the evil that works in them and through them never quite forgo everything that makes them human. Theory is easy; people are hard. One of the key image/metaphors used throughout these series of films is glass. Kieślowski and his DP's (he used a variety of them) are masters of using refractions and reflections. We often look and judge the characters of these films through glass (a glass "darkly"?). Maybe that's the point -- we use our moralism as a way to maintain distance and separation from these people's actual lives. We base our judgment of people based purely on image rather than truth. The truth is: whatever the evil in them, they never cease being what God created.

After Alex and I finished the film, we went back to hear (and copy down) the monologue that begins the film. And after the line, "Do the innocent make the rules," Alex said something like, "Sounds like 'he who is without sin cast the first stone.'" Indeed it does.

The Clint Howard Honorary "That Guy" of the Month Award Goes To. . .

David Paymer.

Who? [That's what you're supposed to say with one of these -- it's what makes him a "That Guy"].

Here's where you probably know him: the V.U.P. in Ocean's 13. He's the one reviewing Al Pacino's hotel for the coveted Five Diamond Award, and who gets the bedbug treatment and the "Susan B. Anthony" (the huge slot machine jackpot gift) in the end.

[Ah! Now I know where I've seen him before -- that what you're supposed to say now.]

Saw him in David Mamet's Redbelt last night (good flick, interesting character story, little bit of a forced and bit-too-brief denouement -- give it a solid 4 out of 5). Paymer's becoming one of the Mamet Players, with roles also in Spartan and State and Main.

Here's also where you may have seen him: City Slickers, Quiz Show, Get Shorty (played the guy who swindled the airline company insurance when he didn't get on the plane that crashed), The American President, Amistad, and Payback (the one where Mel Gibson plays an anti-hero). So the guy works (there's 132 acting roles listed in his IMDb page). He even received a best supporting actor Oscar nomination for playing Billy Crystal's brother in Mr. Saturday Night (which almost disqualifies him for the "Clinty"). However, he did have a role in Howard the Duck, which I think evens everything out.

However, the true reason to award this month's Clinty to David Paymer is because he must be the only actor in the world to lose an acting gig to Howie Mandel (for "St. Elsewhere"). That must of stung. Here's hoping this month's Clinty will heal those deep and lasting wounds.

The Player: Now More than Ever

I just got done watching The Player. I had thought it was the first time, and maybe this has happened to you before, but I realized about half way through – “Hey! I’ve seen this movie before!” The first time was in High School, and I remember liking it, but I cannot imagine I understood it enough to appreciate it. A Robert Altman film, it simultaneously pays homage to and satirizes the long tradition of Hollywood movie-making. Just as we might expect from the guy who did Gosford Park, he was a master of laying conversations upon conversations.[1] He also makes use of several movies posters to undergird the storyline, which provide an almost witty commentary to the film’s plot moves.[2] Perhaps most impressively, there is a seven minute shot to open the movie – quite well done – and certainly paying homage to Touch of Evil (Orson Welles) and Rope (Alfred Hitchcock).[3]

The gist of the movie is a “dirt-bag studio exec” (Robbins) who starts getting harassed by a writer he apparently brushed. Postcards are coming, threatening his death. Growing steadily more uneasy by the continued threats as well as rumors that he is soon to lose his job, Robbins attempts to sought out the writer and get him to stop. This turns ugly, and he ends up killing the writer. The thriller ensues. If you want more, go watch the movie.

Now, I want this post to consider a major theme of the movie and then end with a question. As already stated, the film certainly critiques the business angle of Hollywood, making movies with stars and happy endings because that is what makes money, and not caring to represent reality – not caring for art. Over and over in the movie, the writers who wish to make art and commentate on reality are pitted against the studio execs who want to give the public the shallow entertainment they want. This is perfectly exemplified in the scene where Robbins accepts an honor at a party for donating a number of films to the LA museum. There he says something along the lines of: “The media is saying that films are not art, they are entertainment. But they are. Films are art, now more than ever.” But these stirring words are completely contradicted by the shabby shallow ending given to a movie that is developed throughout the film, first intending to end badly and represent reality, then given a blockbuster happy ending complete with witty, BS line. The film will of course, be a success.

My question is, has this changed? This has been a common critique of “Hollywood,”[4] and in the last decade or so (correct me if I’m wrong), we’ve seen the rise of the “Indie Film.” Often these films break the Hollywood conventions and have more gut-wrenching representations and critiques upon reality. Now I don’t mean to imply that it is some kind of shallow generality; Hollywood movies (whatever that even means) can and do represent reality, whereas some Indie films do have the very themes and misrepresentations Hollywood is critiqued for. However, it seems to me that perhaps the semi-recent popularity of the independent productions is because people are aching for the kind of things that are not glossed over, manipulated, or spiced up. They are looking for art that is real, that is almost unapologetic.

What do you think, oh Constant Reader? I invite, of course, any kind of corrections to my thinking – it really is an honest question. You might say, “Oh, Indie films have always been around and you’re wrong,” or “You’re speaking in false generalities,” or “It does not even make sense to talk in these broad categories of ‘Hollywood’ and ‘Indie,’” or all that other good stuff. But it seems like the Indie film has provided both artists and appreciators an arena to enjoy artistic manifestations that are a little more “real” than the common Hollywood pop-archetype. Does the critique of Hollywood in The Player stand true? Are the independent productions filling a void in the film audiences of the American world?

The Player – 3.92-4.6, depending on which aspect of the film we are talking about.

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[1] Two things: 1) this is an anachronistic compliment, I know; 2) the scenes at the outside restaurants (the first with Cusack and Houston, the second with Burt Reynolds) are prime examples of this.

[2] My favorite was showing the poster for “M,” then dissolving to a table with a reservation upon it for Mr. “M” – Tim Robbins character is named Griffin Mill.

[3] And interestingly enough, both movies are mentioned during the scene.

[4] And other entertainment industries, such as music, where pop is disdained, and many connoisseurs listen to nothing but underground bands.

The Man Who Laughs (1928)

The Man Who Laughs is a silent film about the son of an English Lord, Gwynplaine, who is disfigured by a surgeon to punish his father in a political power struggle. The father is then “killed”[1] and the young boy banished. The boy does not make it to the boat, though, and is abandoned in a gallows near port. He finds a blind baby girl in the arms of her dead mother, and takes her with him as he searches for food and shelter from the cold. He is taken in by Ursus the philosopher, who raises him and the blind girl, Dea, and takes them on a circuit as the attraction “The Man Who Laughs.”

Gwynplaine, doomed to be disfigured, looking ever like a grinning clown, draws a great deal of crowd. As they grow up, Gwynplaine and Dea fall in love, but Gwynplaine will not marry Dea until another woman does not laugh at him. “It is not my right,” he says, referring to the fact that she has never seen his face. It is not long in the film before Gwynplaine’s heritage is discovered, and the Queen of England orders him made a peer and husband of a Duchess – a selfish, self-absorbed, and seductive woman. The love conflict ensues.

I had never watched a silent film before, and it was one of the more interesting experiences in my adventures in film. It was an engrossing flick. Much relies on the acting for the story to work without any dialogue, which it does in spades. The acting was without a doubt the most impressive part of the movie. It was only slightly overdone and mostly very believable. But for all the good acting, no one comes close in the film to the performance of Conrad Veidt, who plays Gwynplaine. You may or may not remember him from his role as Major Strasser in Casablanca. Throughout the film, he wears only a hideous grin, and yet despite the deformity, we are able to see an incredible array of emotions through his body language and especially his eyes: joy, sorrow, pain, terror, anger, and much more. He was simply amazing. Perhaps one of the greatest acting performances I have ever seen.

One scene I enjoyed in particular was when the Duchess, who both is attracted to and revolted by Gwynplaine, watches his show with a grimace on her face, and you are unable to understand what she is feeling until she sends her note to Gwynplaine: “I was the woman who did not laugh. Was it pity? Or was it love? My page will come for you at midnight.” We find out, it was both.

It is a good movie, no doubt. I don’t know how well the plot works, but it’s a good story and has its own culture, which comes through strongly in the telling. Based on a novel by Victor Hugo, it well portrays (at least, as far as I know) the differences in class as well as the political games played by the social elite of the 1700’s. There were several moments in the film where I actually laughed out loud. The love story of the film is told exquisitely – I mean perfectly. There is nothing like a tale of star-crossed lovers, and this is no exception. “God closed my eyes so I could see only the real Gwynplaine,” Dea says (whispers, as I imagine it in my mind)[2] to her man, and oh (*sighs*), you just believe her. And of course, as already stated, Veidt performance as the Man Who Laughs is haunting, piercing, and does not leave you quickly. Bob Kane and Bill Finger cited Veidt’s interpretation as the main inspiration for their infamous psychopathic killer the Joker, and it is not a stretch to see why.

[spoiler below - yeah, I don't know how to do Doug's nifty little "highlight to read spoiler" thing]

My one complaint for the film is that I wish it had incorporated Hugo’s original tragic ending, instead of the happy ending that is suddenly tacked on. I think it would have better captured the poignant spirit of the story, but it still works, and is well worth the watch. It is proper to rate such a classic film? I don’t know. Probably only a real jerk would. But since I’m just that kind of jerk, I’ll give a rating – aesthetic and mostly useless. The bottom line is, you should see the film regardless. But anywho…

4.98/5 (I’m still kinda pissed about that switcheroo on the ending)

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[1] At least, they stick him in the “Iron Lady,” a metal shell shaped like a body with spikes on the inside, giving him a slow, incomprehensible death.

[2] That is the really interesting thing about silent film – much like a book, the freedom and limitations you are given to interpret the dialogue and acting. I mean, you hear the dialogue in your head; that’s your only option.

Prophetic Visage: Movie Advice of the Month

Or, "What NOT to Do When Given a Prophetic Message by a Strange, Usually Otherworldly Character concerning Impending Doom or Destruction of You and/or Your Loved Ones."

I've seen it a million times. Guy/Gal runs into some ethereal character or self-proclaimed oracle. Oracle tells him/her about at great tragedy that will befall them sometime in the future. In great anxiety, our character tries in vain to prevent the prophecy, and by their "preventative" actions, actually bring about the fulfillment of the prophecy itself. It's at least as old as Oedipus and Antigone.

So when given some message of negative destiny from some elusive doomsayer, we at Conversio suggest this: do nothing. Just continue on business as usual. Do your best to ignore the prophecy. Just get a cup of coffee, watch a movie, and try to forget the whole thing.

Some things to keep in mind:

1. Never try to kill the guy that is prophesied to destroy you, especially if he is your best friend. Chances are, your actions will begin the process that leads to your destruction.

2. Do not trust the advice of power-hungry, malicious, ambitious wives. This goes not only for prophetic instances, but life in general.

3. Do not trust old, mysterious men who shoot lightning out of their hands to have the ability to undo the prophetic pronouncement. This is a really, really bad idea (though it could lead to having a really cool voice).

If this does not work, and doing nothing does, no pun intended, absolutely nothing to prevent the prophecy, well, please do not blame us for this advice. I mean, it was a fateful prophecy. Hard to compete with that.


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By the way, I apologize for the hiatus. School has begun again, and I have been very busy. I have seen several great movies, and hope to update you soon. Until then, peace.

Random Movie Question: Song for End Credits

At the risk of amplifying an aesthetic debate by combining music with film, here's this week's RMQ:

What is your favorite song for the end credits of a movie?

Lots of great options here. I've learned my lesson from the first RMQ and not suck the oxygen out of the discussion by only offering one opinion here (though there would be lots to choose from):

I love, love , love the use of "Shape of My Heart" by Sting at the end of Leon: The Professional. Great song, and I love the closing shot of Natalie Portman's Mathilda as she puts Leon's plant in the ground. [Highlight to read spoiler]

"That Guy" of the Month

This new every-once-in-a-while feature will celebrate the unappreciated character actor. You know, "those" guys you spend half the movie thinking, "where have I seen that guy before?" The patron saint of "those guys" is, of course, Clint Howard -- though now that he's won an MTV movie award he has transcended the label.

This month I choose to celebrate Anthony Michael Hall. It's been an interesting journey for Mr. Hall, from Brat Pack performances in 16 Candles, The Breakfast Club, and Weird Science -- he was also the original Rusty in the Vacation movies -- to playing Bill Gates in the TV movie The Pirates of Silicon Valley to a seminal "that guy" performance in The Dark Knight as Mike Engel, the Wayne Enterprises lawyer/accountant who figures out Bruce Wayne's secret and inspires the best line of the movie from Morgan Freeman ". . . and your plan is to blackmail him?"

So here's to you, Anthony Michael Hall. Thanks for giving hope to Judd Nelson, Andrew McCarthy, and Emilio Estevez (outside of Mighty Ducks 4).

UPDATE: Okay, according to the comments section, I have (1) wrongly indentified the part that Mr. Hall (or is it Mr. Michael Hall?) played in The Dark Knight (he played the reporter who broke the accountant's story) and (2) not credited him for a television role he has played for 6 years on the USA network. So, an inauspicious beginning for this feature. In future posts, I pledge to only get one major thing wrong. You have my word.

The Twist in the Tale: Movie Advice of the Month

I wanted to title the post:

What to Say If Someone Asks You upon Sharing Some Grand Discovery in the Intricate, Dangerous Case You Are Investigating in which Many Clues Have Led through a Trail of Murder and Death If You Have Told Anyone Else about Your Crucial Discovery: Movie Advice of the Month

But apparently that was too long. Anyway...

Okay, so you’ve been in over your head. You’re a simple detective, but the seemingly simple murder has turned into a great big fiasco involving all kinds of local bigwigs. Having made the crucial discovery in the case that will put certain wealthy power-mongers away for good, you share it with your boss/trusted friend/fellow companion/etc.

Then they say something along the lines of: “Have you told anyone else about this?”

If you want to die, the answer is always: “No.” Always. Because when anyone asks you a question like that (especially provided the above context), you can be fairly certain that they are about to kill you.

But if you want to live, say something like: “Yes. In fact, I’ve told lots of people. All kinds of people, even. Really, you wouldn’t believe all the people I’ve told! And I wrote it all in my diary as soon as I discovered it. And I told a whole bunch of people I was coming over here, and I put my diary in a safety deposit box, and told them that if anything happens, to send that to the police. And I told your mom, and your grandmother, and your spouse. I even told the police chief. Really, like, everyone knows at this point except you. You were last on my list of people to tell.” Other variations may be acceptable, but to deviate from this general idea would result in almost certain death, or at the very least, a fantastic gun battle where you will escape but only barely.

You see, the person you trusted the whole time – they are almost surely the mastermind behind it all. At least…oh, nine times out of ten.

And who says movies can’t teach us anything valuable?

Thom's Top 30, Part 3

Thom's Top 30 (+1) Documentaries (in alphabetical order by title):

The Agronomist
Buena Vista Social Club
Burden of Dreams
The Corporation
Deliver Us from Evil
The Five Obstructions
The Fog of War
For the Bible Tells Me So
Gates of Heaven
Gaza Strip
God's Country
Grizzly Man
Harlan County USA
Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse
Incident at Oglala
Iraq in Fragments
Jesus Camp
Koyaanisqatsi
Lake of Fire
Lessons of Darkness
Manufacturing Dissent
Soldiers in the Army of God
The Thin Blue Line
This Is What Democracy Looks Like
This So-Called Disaster
A Time for Burning
Tokyo-Ga
The U.S. Versus John Lennon
War Photographer
Wheel of Time
Who Killed the Electric Car?

Thom's Top 30, Part 2

Thom's Top 30 Criterion Collection Movies

Listed in alphabetical order by director, then, if there is more than one by a given director, in order from most to least favorite:

Secret Honor, Robert Altman
The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Wes Anderson
Rushmore, Wes Anderson
The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson
Bottle Rocket, Wes Anderson
The Seventh Seal, Ingmar Bergman
Day of Wrath, Carl Theodor Dreyer
Brazil, Terry Gilliam
Rebecca, Alfred Hitchcock
Down by Law, Jim Jarmusch
Monty Python's Life of Brian, Terry Jones
Kagemusha, Akira Kurosawa
Ikiru, Akira Kurosawa
I Live in Fear, Akira Kurosawa
Stray Dog, Akira Kurosawa
Red Beard, Akira Kurosawa
Throne of Blood, Akira Kurosawa
Sanjuro, Akira Kurosawa
Drunken Angel, Akira Kurosawa
High and Low, Akira Kurosawa
The Bad Sleep Well, Akira Kurosawa
M, Fritz Lang
Brief Encounter, David Lean
Salesman, David and Albert Maysles
Straw Dogs, Sam Peckinpah
The Third Man, Carol Reed
Night and Fog, Alain Resnais
How to Get Ahead in Advertising, Bruce Robinson
The Element of Crime, Lars Von Trier
Ace in the Hole, Billy Wilder

Thom's Top 30

Thom's Top 30 North American Films from 1980 to the Present

Listed in alphabetical order by director, then chronologically (and if the writer contributes significantly to the style of the film, I'll include his/her name too):

Zelig
Woody Allen

The Darjeeling Limited
Wes Anderson

Smoke
Paul Auster and Wayne Wang

Leon: The Professional
Luc Besson

Miller's Crossing
Joel and Ethan Coen

The Brave
Johnny Depp

The Apostle
Robert Duvall

A Perfect World
Clint Eastwood

Dead Man
Jim Jarmusch

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai
Jim Jarmusch

Zero Effect
Jake Kasdan

Brother
Takeshi Kitano

I'm Not There
Todd Haynes

House of Games
David Mamet

The Spanish Prisoner
David Mamet

The Indian Runner
Sean Penn

The Crossing Guard
Sean Penn

Twin Falls Idaho
Michael and Mark Polish

Dark City
Alex Proyas

Bob Roberts
Tim Robbins

Joe Versus the Volcano
John Patrick Shanley

Unbreakable
M. Night Shyamalan

Schizopolis
Steven Soderbergh

The Limey
Steven Soderbergh and Lem Dobbs

The Big Kahuna
John Swanbeck

Manderlay
Lars Von Trier

The Truman Show
Peter Weir

Paris, Texas
Wim Wenders and Sam Shepherd

The End of Violence
Wim Wenders

Don't Come Knocking
Wim Wenders and Sam Shepherd

Decalogue II & III: Show, Don't Tell

Okay, I’m beginning to see why everybody who has seen these films calls them brilliant. Really, the reason is quite simple: it’s because they are frickin’ brilliant. No doubt about it. They are really something special. Just to show all you high-budget punks out there – made-for-TV can be all up in that bizz, yo.

Two things that I find especially amazing about these particular films: the shots and the storytelling. Let me explain.

1. One of my favorite shots of all time is in the movie What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? Those of you who know the movie may remember the scene where he burns the house down. There is a shot as he strikes the match and you see the “Keep Away From Children” warning as the fire flares up – it’s properly scrumtrullescent.[1] Well, in The Decalogue, those kind of shots are almost common. From the I, there was the milk in the tea. In II, there are delicious shots of a cigarette box starting on fire, the water dripping from the ceiling, the wasp struggling in the tea. This last was especially poignant, a perfect representation of the feeling fairly common for humans in the universe. In III, there is that wonderful shot when Ewa leaves her mother’s house and we watch her leave from the window. Several overhead shots such as these give us a strange perspective of the events – one reviewer suggested this may be “God’s perspective.” In any case, this kind of choreography and direction give us a strange, life-like surreal quality to our viewing – it feels like we’re there, it feels like our own story is being told. The almost constant absence of music, the simple, long framing of shots, and the natural dialogue complete with awkward pauses and introspective silence all work towards a very “mundane” reality within the films.

2. In most creative writing classes and books, most likely the principle rule you will learn is “Show, Don’t Tell.” The idea is, don’t tells us, “He was mad.” Show us. Show us his shaking hands. Make us hear his tone of voice. Have him kick something. Anything other than tell us through simple exposition: He was mad. The Decalogue manifests this principle perhaps better than any film I’ve ever seen.[2] There is almost no exposition at all. No conversations happen that explicitly relate to us the plot, tell us what is going on in explicit terms, even tell us what the characters are thinking and feeling. We are shown the story by a woman ripping the leaves off of a plant, a man toppling the donation candles before an altar, a woman standing at a window smoking a cigarette. The film forces you to interact with it, to experience it along with the characters.

Decalogue II tells the story of a woman whose husband is sick, perhaps dying. She tries to get the doctor that is caring for him, who lives in the same building as her (remember that all the stories take place within this one building), to give her a prognosis: will he die or not? The doctor refuses to give a diagnosis. She pushes him, explaining that she is pregnant – but with another man’s child;[3] if he lives, she will get an abortion, if he dies, she will keep the child. Still, the doctor will not give prognosis. “I have seen patients that should have died and pulled through, and patients that should’ve been fine, but died inexplicably.” Eventually the doctor does give in, and his “prognosis” serves to illustrate the commandment “Thou shall not take my name in vain:” No one but God decides who lives and dies. That is the realm of his authority alone.

Decalogue III is probably, thus far, the most abstract examination of a commandment. An exposition of the Sabbath, we have a man who is drawn away from his family on Christmas Eve by a former lover in the midst of crisis. They spend the night together, and we unravel their complex history as well as the deep layers of interaction between them as the night progresses. The main idea seems to be the principle of family within the Sabbath command. It is an examination of fidelity and regret.

I am excited to see the rest. Every 50 minutes feels like a lifetime. They are not exactly fun to watch. But they are encompassing. They are engaging yet “normal” stories that never fail to leave you wondering, and identifying with all the characters portrayed. There are no black and white people – each story is told from all perspectives, so that while some characters are better than others, we find it hard to judge any of them, because they are people. The Decalogue is a meaningful, purposeful look at life, and thus, as we watch, we find that, in some strange way, we are looking at ourselves.

5/5 (for both)

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[1] Those of you who have not seen the movie, stop everything you are doing right now, give yourself a swirly, then acquire and watch the movie with all the quickness that you can possible muster. This is life or death.

[2] Other films that do this really well off the top of my head: Punch-Drunk Love, Darjeeling Limited (really, any Wes Andersen film), Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Yojimbo (and it’s Western interpretation, Fistful of Dollars), and National Treasure. This last one is a complete joke, as National Treasure actually serves as a prime example of how to rely completely on exposition for moving the plot forward.

[3] This (adultery) has been a theme in two of the films thus far, and we have not even gotten to the commandment on adultery.

Trailer Alert!

I don't think I'll get into the habit of this, but I did think that this was a cool trailer.

http://www.moviefone.com/movie/harry-potter-and-the-half-blood-prince/27063/main

Love the bit of dialogue at the end.

Random Movie Question Offered Purely to Instigate Discussion

Okay, it doesn't make a great acronym. I'm working on that.

From time to time I'd like to ask some random questions -- I find it helps my "movie memory." Plus, movie arguments are fun.

So, in honor of the upcoming Kevin Costner blockbuster (or merely "bust") Swing Vote, here's this week's question:

Who is your favorite movie president?

Off the top of my head:
Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove "You can't fight in here. This is the War Room."
Michael Douglas in The American President (despite the pretentious title)
Morgan Freeman in Deep Impact (underrated movie)
And, of course, Harrison Ford in Air Force One, where he shot more people than Dick Cheney.

Anyone who nominates Bill Pulman from Independence Day will be mocked and banned.

My New Favorite Movie of the Year -- And It Ain't Close

You can certainly forgive a little bit of hyperbole in a headline, can't you?.

My brother texted me over the weekend -- promising that I would have a new top ten favorite soon. Well, I might. I need to see it 10-12 more times -- but it's on track.

It wasn't The Dark Knight. If you skip down and read my review, I liked it a great deal -- but found a central conflict in the last 30 minutes to be rushed and inconsistent in the world Nolan had created. It's a good film -- perhaps the best comic book movie of all time (though I'm crossing my fingers on Watchmen).

Nope, it's the movie I saw yesterday afternoon, perhaps one of the most strangly beautiful movies I've ever seen. EVER SEEN!!!! (Sorry, the hyperbole keeping coming back).

Frankly, what Pixar has done in WALL-E is create a mostly silent film in the grand tradition of Chaplin -- the Outsider who falls in love and who finds his complete-ness in his Other set in a dystopic future that Aldous Huxley would love, with the beauty and majesty of some of the best shots in 2001: A Space Odyssey (there's a pretty clear reference point in one of the key music cues). That's pretty stinking impressive. And, on top of all that -- it has heart! I haven't loved a bizarre looking creature with an acronym for a name like WALL-E since E.T. That's the short list (okay, okay R2-D2 also on the list -- but I still can't forgive Lucas for giving him the ability to fly).

WALL-E is a trash compactor. That's what he does. But he has a very special trait-- his work inspires him. He stacks his little cubes into spires that would have impressed the ancient Egyptians. And throughout his day he saves the little trinkets he finds along the way ("one man's trash. . ." if you will) to take back to his treasure trove. Oh, and he loves musicals. He's pretty complicated for an automated creature with limited vocabulary.

But he knows that he's alone. Other than a cockroach companion with the resilience of the Terminator, his world is empty. Humanity abandoned it 700 years ago on a spaceship that's a cross between The Love Boat (complete with a Lido deck), a Wal*Mart Supercenter, and Discovery One from 2001 (with its own version of HAL 9000).

That's when EVE comes into the picture. EVE is like most women: beautiful, complicated, does a great cold shoulder, has the ability to say her Other's name with a wonderful variety of tone -- from warm to enraged, and has a death ray. She is boundless whereas he is limited. She is focused on the mission whereas he is focused on her, and doesn't mind tracking dirt all over the nice clean spaceship to get to her. She can give life (in her own way -- the "womb" motif is pretty overt), whereas all he does is clean up someone else's trash. They're perfect for each other.

Big time credit goes to the animators to depict a beautiful silent love story as this. WALL-E's furtive Woody Allen-esque sighs and glances combine EVE's warmth coming through the LED's of her cold exterior to tell a story where dialogue is just unnecessary. It would just clutter up the space. At one moment, they enjoy a gravity-free dance with a fire extinguisher worthy of Fred and Ginger.

Their warmth, beauty, and (all right, I'll just say it) love is set against the backdrop of humanity that needs reminded of Dean Wormer classic piece of advice, that "fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life." They exist in a cultural coma, trapped by the "tyranny of the present" (Cicero), lacking an alternative vision, goal, telos. If anyone needed eschatology -- it's these people. Bizarre, then, that it's the love of two robots together with their band of misfit toys (any movie that references City Lights, 2001, and Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer has to be brilliant, right?) that brings awakening and new life.

WALL-E is a movie filled with awe and wonder. I'm sorry that I couldn't keep my inner fan-boy down in this review. There might be flaws to the picture, but I couldn't see them (and I hope I never do). I was sad to read on some internet film bulletin boards that I respect that some really resented the political stance of the movie (there is a bit of a poke at W at one point). That's too bad. They need to read Neil Postman's Amusing Ourselves to Death and A.J. Conyers The Eclipse of Heaven to find the heart of the film. WALL-E and EVE don't give humanity back heaven, but it reintroduces them to the connection between love and life (complete with a cross-moment). It's the best exposition of 1 John I've seen in a long while.

Bandits: German Rockers Girls

Four young German girls on the run from the law who spend their time blasting out American rock songs – what could be better than that? Wait, don’t answer that. But if your answer is “nothing,” or even “not much,” or maybe even, “I don’t know,” then Bandits is the movie for you. And maybe some others.

It’s foreign film, so if you hate subtitles, beware. But then again, if you hate subtitles, you should probably be reading somebody else’s blog, for in the true pretentious form of a genuine film snob, I must scoff at such apathetic sensibilities. But if you can get past the foreignness, then Bandits is really a fun film.

The story centers, as I have mentioned, on four German girls who meet in prison and start a band. They escape, but before they do, one of them sent off a demo tape of their performance. As the news of their prison break becomes widespread, the record producer guy who originally threw away their demo digs it back up, and quickly after that, the young band of girls (the name of their band, by the way, is “Bandits;” hence the title, right?) become quite popular indeed. The remainder of the film is them dealing with their newfound fame while trying to avoid the police (which ends up feeling like old Beatles films like Help!, where they constantly are on the run in disguise from throngs of fans) and dealing with their own inner turmoil.

The movie is interspersed with artistic (but slightly unrealistic) stylized scenes that are for the most part very fun to watch. Also, at several points, we have music videos of a sort as the band performs their various songs. The psychology of the movie is fairly trite, but believable. The acting is average. But the quality of film lies in the sheer fun of it. It has its serious moments, of course. The theme of death is revisited several times. “We live amidst death all of our lives, until the moment we die,” one of the gals says. When tragedy strikes, the line is repeated. But overall, it is a film about four quirky girls who, in an act of desperation, leave behind the troubles of their previous lives and live a dream, if only for a short time.

If you’re into obscure, foreign films, I would recommend it, if you could find it. It’s fun, it’s got very humorous scenes, and the soundtrack is really good. It is a entertaining watch, and has a certain charm. Plus, it’s German. I mean, Germans are cool.

3.8/5

Doug's review of The Dark Knight -- less effusive, less pretty pictures, more spoilers

SPOILERS ABOUND in this review -- hey, you don't have to read it!



(Space for those who want to skip down)



For those of you who only read reviews for the final "tally," (so boring!) I find that I can't give it one overarching score. To me, the movie felt like 2 episodes in a miniseries. The first episode was terrific -- it made sense in the world it had created (more on that later). The second episode (begun with Joker's escape in the police car) I thought became inconsistent in the established world -- actually, felt more in line with the world of Batman Begins.

So here's my score: Episode one 4.75 pencils out of 5 (he, he). Episode two 3.5 double-headed coins out of 5.

Okay, with that whole scoring business over -- allow me to elaborate.

The real strength of the movie is that it takes place in the real world, much more than BB. One reviewer said that it felt like Batman was dropped into The Departed, and that makes a great deal of sense. Alex compares the movie to Heat, and that is an apt comparison. Nolan's choice of making the story about organized crime (rather than most supervillain's fixation on world domination -- whatever that is) lends credibility to the story, and the movie is better for it. Gotham looks like Chicago (where they shot much of the film) -- we're getting further away from the Tim Burton Gothic style (BB took baby steps in that direction, much more in this film). The Narrows are gone. No mention of Wayne Tower being the center of the city. Even Wayne Manor (and Bat Cave) are out of the picture for the time being. Even the Scarecrow is, in tone, a different character than in the first picture.

The movie is darker, and yet there are many more scenes in broad daylight (this even becomes a point of dialogue in the first meetings of mob bosses). The bank heist, the funeral procession, and the hospital scene take place in broad daylight. Again, this gives more of a flavor of reality to the film.

It's amazing how the Joker fits seamlessly into the realistic fabric of the film. He doesn't really have a character arc -- he's more of a force of nature. I love how his origin story kept changing. We don't know where he comes from. He doesn't get a completely "satisfying" end. He is chaos personified, coming in from "nowhere," with no telos in sight except "watching the world burn." Ledger deserves all the credit he is getting for the role -- his motivation is completely consistent throughout the film, and his scenes with Bale's Batman are stunning (even while hanging upside down -- "I can't kill you because you're too much fun!"). They will be a lot of pressure on the Academy to recogize the role with a Best Supporting Actor nomination.

Some have downplayed the arc of Batman in the film, but I disagree. I think Bale has been given plenty to work with here. At the beginning of the film, he's become an elitist, looking "down" on Gotham from his penthouse perch. He has nothing but disdain for his fellow vigilantes "not what I had in mind when I wanted to inspire people." His breakthrough with cellular technology is completely unethical (though pretty cool). But faced with the twin forces of chaos (Joker) and chance (Two-Face), it's his ethics (his "rules" that the Joker has so much disdain for), that bring him back to the hero Gotham needs him to be. He can't bring himself to "burn the forest" a la Alfred. He sacrifices much in the end, and I like the direction the character is going at the end of the film -- back into the shadows from which he came.

Okay, here's what I didn't like -- Harvey Dent's motivation. We see glimpses of the "gambler" mentality (the courtroom scene) prior to the disfiguring event, but he never left things to chance. He's in control the entire way -- the coin has two-heads. Gordon's fake death gave him an Ace in the hole. In addition, it was not chance that made Dent into Two-Face, it was the Joker's choice to deceive Batman. The transformation of Dent into a chance-driven maniac felt rushed, and therefore unsatisfactory. The theme of choice over chaos and chance ended with a pretty satisfactory conclusion (the twin ferries), but the hurried plot (can a 2 1/2 hour film be rushed?) led to Dent being a pretty inconsistent character. Why threaten Gordon's family? The movie became more cartoonish in motivation during the 2nd episode.

In addition, Nolan still struggles with shooting hand-to-hand combat (he needs to watch the Bourne Ultimatum again), and the whole threat that led to the ferry show-down felt underexplained (I stuggled to follow that part).

Is it the best superhero movie ever? Certainly it's the most realistically protrayed (outside of Two-Face). I would count the Star Wars franchise as technically superhero movies, so The Empire Strikes Back would be my choice as the best superhero movie ever (I'm sure Alex and others will disagree with my labelling -- but they're wrong -- and I'll defend that labelling in the comments section if need be). I came away impressed and excited for a third installment with Nolan, Bale, Oldman, Freeman, Caine and whoever they can get to play the Riddler as the master manipulator (the smartest guy in the room -- Daniel Day-Lewis, John Malkovich, Joaquin Phoenix, or Guy Pierce would be great, as would Ed Norton if he hadn't done the Hulk).

Conspiracy: Euphemism and Death

“It is important to know what words mean. But it is also important to remember that in a thousand years, no matter who holds the power, history will be written in those words.”

This is the summation of the policy held by the Nazis, as portrayed in Conspiracy, a film depicting the Wannsee Conference, considered one of the more important meetings during the years of WWII concerning the fate of the Jews. The line is spoken by Heydrich (played brilliantly by Kenneth Brannagh), who was one of the key architects of the Jewish exterminations deployed by the Nazi regime.

The 2001 film is based off the conference minutes recorded in Wannsee, a Berlin “suburb,” and the script is said to stick very closely to the timeframe and discussion of the conference. Having studied a little bit in this area of history, I could tell that were several accuracies in the general feel of the film. The interaction between the political and military leaders there was very true to the political climate within the Nazi regime. Hitler was known for pitting his underlings against each other to fight for his approval, and this is well depicted in the partisans politely employed ploys and deceptions. No one says what they mean, but everybody knows exactly what is being said. Also accurate was motivation for the chambers as caused by a drop in morale of the soldiers who would spend hours a day with their only task shooting Jews (including women and children). The feel of the film is very natural. The atmosphere is deftly and wonderfully portrayed.

There was a lot less discussion at the real conference. Most of the 85 minutes of the meeting was a speech by Heydrich. The meeting was not, as is sometimes supposed, to decide the fate of the Jews. That was for the most part already decided, and such a decision would never be made by a council as such at any rate – such a decision would belong to the Führer. The meeting was actually to consolidate the power of Heydrich, who had been put in charge of carrying out the “evacuation” of the Jews. The Nazi regime was notoriously very unorganized, and many different departments and leaders had jurisdiction in many overlapping areas. Heydrich’s intention in the meeting was to make clear his authority over all the members that had a “say” in the Jewish issue of Nazi Germany.

However, the film does not fail to portray this. After about thirty minutes of opinion, Heydrich’s right hand man Eichmann basically feeds the meeting’s attendants about the “successes” of the gas chambers, and the possibilities achievable (something like 61 million Jews a year, estimated). Sprinkled throughout the film is Heydrich’s meeting with several of the more influential members, where a discreet but clear purpose if made: “You have a choice,” Heydrich says over and over. Decide your allegiances. I’m in charge.

The entire film takes place at the Wannsee estate, mostly within the one conference room. Brannagh is absolutely brilliant as Heydrich, as I have already said. Heydrich was known for his charismatic personality, and Brannagh captures this wonderfully. Even his threats are polite, said in a gentle voice with a smile on his face. Stanley Tucci plays a very good, composed, reserved Eichmann, who because of his personal experience with the Jews (even to the extent of knowing the “Jewish language”) was considered one of the most important people for dealing with the Jews “practically.” Walter Stuckart was done wonderfully by Colin Firth, which is to be expected. There is no action, the entire film takes place in dialogue, and is sometimes confusing as you try to keep all the people straight, with all of their job descriptions and such. Although exposition occurs, it is kept to a minimum, and so while this makes much more work for the audience as they try to keep up with the intricacies of Nazi German political culture, it keeps the whole setting very natural and believable. The film works.

It is something of a study in rhetoric, language, philosophy and propaganda. No clear terminology is to be used – the Jews are to be “evacuated,” nothing more. Any mention of clear intentions is “stricken from the record.” At one point, one of the attendees says something to the effect of “why don’t we just call this ‘evacuation’ for what it is.” Tucci as natural and as discreet as can be turns to the transcriber and shakes his head – it is perfectly shot, well done indeed. The film is a parabolic study of the Nazi philosophy/politics. Nietzsche and Darwin are both mentioned, both times with dual connotations (their context and our context would provide the two-sides of the dual meaning).

“We will be moving Jews in days, not weeks,” Heydrich says after the meeting is over. “Start writing up your train schedules. Ah, Schubert Quintet in C major. The adagio will tear your heart out.” Like De Niro in The Untouchables, that amazing scene where Capone cries over Mozart’s Le Mariage de Figaro interspersed with shots of a murder that he commanded, here we have glimpse of someone – a person – who can be so moved by art and yet unaffected by the terrible things that he does. The whole meeting clearly portrays a group of men convinced, for whatever reasons, that they are superior to the Jews, that the Jews are a problem, a problem that needs a solution. Whenever we study the Holocaust, we always wonder how it could be possible, and yet the dark feeling inside remains, wondering if we would have been capable or even disposed to do the same if it had been us. Conspiracy is one more reminder of the double-edged question, and like most portrayals of the Holocaust, provides no clear answers.

4/5