Inglourious Basterds? Yes.

Well, I saw it. And I laughed. And I really enjoyed myself.

I mean, what could possibly be more pleasing than taking in a film that crosses more genres than Big Trouble in Little China? What makes you laugh more than seeing HUGO STIGLITZ bursting in Blaxplotation brilliance? What is more incredible than hearing the haunting tones of Ennio Morricone in the midst of war-torn, German-occupied France? What could be more wonderful than seeing a man bash in another man’ skull with a bat? What could be more awesome than watching a bunch of Jewish-Americans make sure those disgusting Nazi’s get what they deserve? What could be more incredible…

You see where I’m going.

Okay, Tarantino is an incredible filmmaker. And I think that this movie shows his gifts. The humor is subtle yet hysterical. The mixing of genres stirs my soul - I understand that impulse, I love it. It was perfectly acted. Really. And honestly, who can deny a film that blatantly changes history? Brilliant.

But the problem with the movie is that it stands overagainst everything that I stand for. Perhaps it is just a movie. Perhaps it is just a setting for Tarantino to explore the movies that he loved growing up. Perhaps it is just a good story about how he might want to imagine that WWII should have ended.

But I guess that is, for me, no excuse. Because nothing is just an anything, and this certainly is not just a movie. It represents all of the glorified nationalism that America has felt at least since the turn of the century, and the glorified nationalism that still wants to make its enemies un-human. It glorifies violence (even if it is the outrageous Tarantino type violence) not only as cool, or romantic, but as the appropriate response to the destructive impulses of others. And it happens at just the right season for Americans – to transfer so easily unto the beastly enemies we face now: those who hate us for our freedoms. It gives us a posture to keep having toward our enemies, and just the right kind of heroes to hope for.

Now, we might say that Tarantino is intending this very overdramatized nonsense to actually act as critique. Or we could say that the outrageousness of the violence makes for showing the evil and roughness and awkwardness of it all. But I don’t think so. I think we’re supposed to laugh when Aldo the Apache demands his scalps. I think we supposed to cringe when the Bear beats the living shit out that German’s head, but we’re also supposed to awe at the raw American power, because that’s what happens when you mess with us. I think we’re supposed to sigh satisfaction when we blow the theatre, and when Hitler’s face is made mush by pounding of our bullets. And I think we’re supposed to agree with Tarantino – that’s the way it should’ve all ended. That’s how we should’ve ended it.

I could be wrong in my assessment of Tarantino’s intentions. But if I’m not, then I don’t agree. And what bothers me the most is that, though I sensed this disapproval not ten minutes into the film, I did laugh. I was awed, and I was satisfied. Whatever Tarantino grabbed with his inglourious art was deep inside of me. And that’s what scares me.

District 9 -- The Most Original Sci-Fi in Years?

Okay, so I've taken it upon myself to bring this blog back to the land of the living. Will Alex follow suit? Stay tuned to find out.

I don't normally go see a movie during its opening weekend. The size of the crowds normally makes it a bad theater-going experience for me. I'm more of a late-matinee-Tuesday-afternoon sort of guy, when there's only a handful of people in the theater. But, occasionally, I'll make an exception to the rule.

The buzz on District 9 was that it was the most original science fiction film in years. People were comparing it to Blade Runner. It had, at one point, a Metacritic score over 90 (which is more impressive than a Rotten Tomatoes score that high, since Metacritic factors in how much each critic liked the film). So, I threw caution to the wind, and decided to brave the crowds.

While I was excited to see the film, I didn't know a lot about it. I hadn't seen a trailer, hadn't heard a plot synopsis other than "there's a bunch of aliens living on earth." And that, actually, led more to my excitement. It had been a long time since I had gone to the theater to see a film when I didn't know that much about it. Combined with its very positive reviews, I figured that this would be a great way to spend my Saturday afternoon.

I began to get a bit concerned when they started the previews. A teaser-trailer for Saw XXXVII was first up, followed by a series of random slasher films (there were about six of them, but the only two I remember were the Megan Fox-is-a-demon movie and rip-off-of-Shaun of the Dead-with-Woody Harrelson). Since movie studios generally show trailers to films that are sort-of, kind-of like the feature, figuring that if you like the feature film, you'll also want to plop down $9 for these other 7 movies, I got a little worried. If these are the films they're marketing at District 9, what does that say about the movie? My fears lightened the moment I remembered that film execs are generally money-grubbing, shoot-for-the-lowest-denominator morons. Maybe they were so perplexed by the originality of District 9 that they didn't know what to show for previews. Maybe they were like, "Well, this is sort of an action movie, let's show a bunch of trailers with action," and didn't think any more about it. That's certainly possible, I said to myself, as the movie began.

If you haven't heard the set-up for then film, here it is in a nut shell: over 1 million aliens (given the slur "prawns") have landed over Johannesburg, South Africa. It's not clear why they have landed here. They are malnourished and in danger of starvation, so the humans have taken them into the city and set up a refugee camp for them, where they live for 20 years. Because of the inevitable tension that evolves between the alien refugees and the locals, the multi-national corporation which oversees the whole project wants to move them to "District 10," a concentration camp further away from the city.

That's all explained in the first 15 minutes of the movie in the style of a documentary, using "interviews" with scientists and other key players, together with news reel-type footage of the "mother ship" and the refugee camp. And as the action begins, that documentary flavor is kept up through the use of hand-held cameras, as you follow the main character through the camp, informing the "prawns" that they are being moved to a new site

But then a subtle switch happens -- the documentary style is abandoned for more conventional action-movie style camera work. While we're following the main character Wikus around the slum, we cut to a scene inside one of the shacks (how did the camera get here, we should wonder) -- and we've left the faux-documentary behind, only to pick it up again from time to time.

From the end of the 1st act on out it's pretty paint-by-the-numbers alien action movie, we get all the greatest hits:

• A MacGuffin "device" -- the one thing everybody's looking for and will kill to get it.


• The evil corporate overlord with his legions of mercenaries (complete with the leader who just won't die).


• A "third party" (a group of Nigerians) who always show up at just the right time to make things even more complicated.


• An "idiot plot point" -- where the audience must assume that one of the main characters is a complete idiot in order for the plot to work. For those that have seen the movie, it's right after the "device" is completed, and where they decide to hide it. I'm thinking maybe "underneath" would have been the option any sane intelligent life form would have chosen.


• An odd pairing of 2 characters, with completely different motivations, coming together in the final 3rd act (with a downright awful final exchange -- which you see coming from a light year away).


• A devolving of the dialogue in the final shoot-em-up scene to mere profanities (seriously, we're on a Tarantino-type level of use of profanity here).


• And, finally, a not-too-subtle set-up for the inevitable sequel (I'm starting to make plans to avoid District 10 in August 2011).

The set-up was original. As one reviewer put it, the movie is less about what the aliens will do to us, and more about what we do to the aliens. And that's relatively fresh territory for science fiction -- as well as a place for real cultural analysis. And that's why I'm ultimately disappointed in District 9. The set-up and the style had real potential to make a substantial observation about race relations and the treatment of refugees/undocumented "aliens" (even though setting the film in South Africa was a bit too on-the-nose for me). But, in the end, it wasted that opportunity -- choosing instead to be just your average run-of-the-mill Die Hard + Alien. And that's why I'm ultimately disappointed in the film -- it didn't in any way live up to the hype.

For those who you who only read reviews for the final "tally" (i.e. stars), I can't do that for you. But here's what I can do: tell you how much money I'd spend to see the film without feeling disappointed. For me, the action and CGI (which is quite impressive), merit spending $7 on a matinee theater showing, as long as you know what you're going to get (standard action film). I wouldn't rent or buy it, as it wouldn't play nearly as well on a small screen.

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

---

[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.