Frost/Nixon starts taking a beating. That doesn't surprise me. Every year there's a play - musical or drama - that everybody, or at least everybody in the New York media ciricles, thinks will sweep through to Oscar glory. Every year it fails. My guess is that the same fate awaits Doubt, although that one might have a little bit more potential and Streep will probably do well.
Update:
But wait ...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
As if to prove my point ....
about the current gap between British and American box office stardom, Simon Pegg's How to Lose Friends and Alienate People finished No. 1 in England last week, after bombing in the U.S.
PT Anderson and Rachel
A neat nugget I found while working on my Rachel Getting Married review .... Jonathan Demme offered the role of the groom to There Will Be Blood director Paul Thomas Anderson. That would have been interesting.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Lies and spies [Body of Lies]
Body of Lies [R]
Grade: B
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Russell Crowe, Mark Strong, Golshifteh Farahani
Director: Ridley Scott
Say this one thing for Ridley Scott – he makes my job easy.
His garishly inefficient directing style (Why do in two shots what you can do in five?) works as a cinematic canary in a coal mine. When a scene is successfully building tension(ala Blade Runner), it’s whistle while you work all the livelong day. Yet you’ll know the instant Tweety starts sucking gas (ala American Gangster).
Watching his new spies-and-terrorists thriller Body of Lies, you get a galloping gulp of each. The first two acts move swiftly and explosively through the inside baseball of the Middle Eastern intelligence game. It develops an intelligent story based in the technological reality of modern spycraft and the methods ancient cultures find to resist. Then in the third act, the mandatory love story – carried down on stone tablets from Mount Screenwriter – unwraps its interest and credibility. The bird falls flat to the floor.
Roger Ferris (Leonardo DiCaprio) has had enough of the spy game, but he’s too busy getting wounded to notice it yet. Scouting about Iraq with a pistol and a shaggy beard, he runs into information about a terrorist cell in Jordan executing a series of bombings in Europe.
As Ferris moves to Jordan to take over the investigation, he gets stuck between his shady boss (Russell Crowe), always one cell phone away in Washington, and the scary, urbane head of Jordanian intelligence (Mark Strong). Things get even more complicated when he meets the nurse of his dreams (Golshifteh Farahani) over a rabies shot. When doesn’t a needle in the stomach mean love?
The screenwriter is William Monahan (from the David Ignatius novel), a man whose talent lets him get away with things that he shouldn’t. His intricate screenplay bears considerable resemblance to his script for The Departed – sticking tough-guy Leo in the middle of a game of shifting alliances among the spymasters. More notably, it deals with the same conflict between hierarchical systems of power (organizational charts) and personal systems of power (friendships and tribal ties). The American spies have the satellites, yes, but the Jordanians have the intimate system of family allegiances. The right mother can be more powerful than billion-dollar technology.
Playing Ferris’ personal loyalty to the nurse against his professional loyalty to the mission, the film ultimately tries to personalize this conflict in its third act. Characters act in entirely unlikely ways. Until then, Body of Lies sleekly burns its pulp and pace – one of Scott’s better recent efforts.
I’m not sure DiCaprio ever gives a complete, consistent performance. There are too many times when you feel his acting. Occasionally, you want to help him sound out the words. But he usually knocks down his big scenes, and so he does here. This is the first time in a while that Crowe so willingly sinks into a character. I appreciate his performance.
Each new “sand movie” has been met by the public with indifference and exhaustion of real life. With Scott, DiCaprio, and Crowe, Body of Lies his is one of the most star-studded to date. Its fortune will be interesting to see.
Grade: B
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Russell Crowe, Mark Strong, Golshifteh Farahani
Director: Ridley Scott
Say this one thing for Ridley Scott – he makes my job easy.
His garishly inefficient directing style (Why do in two shots what you can do in five?) works as a cinematic canary in a coal mine. When a scene is successfully building tension(ala Blade Runner), it’s whistle while you work all the livelong day. Yet you’ll know the instant Tweety starts sucking gas (ala American Gangster).
Watching his new spies-and-terrorists thriller Body of Lies, you get a galloping gulp of each. The first two acts move swiftly and explosively through the inside baseball of the Middle Eastern intelligence game. It develops an intelligent story based in the technological reality of modern spycraft and the methods ancient cultures find to resist. Then in the third act, the mandatory love story – carried down on stone tablets from Mount Screenwriter – unwraps its interest and credibility. The bird falls flat to the floor.
Roger Ferris (Leonardo DiCaprio) has had enough of the spy game, but he’s too busy getting wounded to notice it yet. Scouting about Iraq with a pistol and a shaggy beard, he runs into information about a terrorist cell in Jordan executing a series of bombings in Europe.
As Ferris moves to Jordan to take over the investigation, he gets stuck between his shady boss (Russell Crowe), always one cell phone away in Washington, and the scary, urbane head of Jordanian intelligence (Mark Strong). Things get even more complicated when he meets the nurse of his dreams (Golshifteh Farahani) over a rabies shot. When doesn’t a needle in the stomach mean love?
The screenwriter is William Monahan (from the David Ignatius novel), a man whose talent lets him get away with things that he shouldn’t. His intricate screenplay bears considerable resemblance to his script for The Departed – sticking tough-guy Leo in the middle of a game of shifting alliances among the spymasters. More notably, it deals with the same conflict between hierarchical systems of power (organizational charts) and personal systems of power (friendships and tribal ties). The American spies have the satellites, yes, but the Jordanians have the intimate system of family allegiances. The right mother can be more powerful than billion-dollar technology.
Playing Ferris’ personal loyalty to the nurse against his professional loyalty to the mission, the film ultimately tries to personalize this conflict in its third act. Characters act in entirely unlikely ways. Until then, Body of Lies sleekly burns its pulp and pace – one of Scott’s better recent efforts.
I’m not sure DiCaprio ever gives a complete, consistent performance. There are too many times when you feel his acting. Occasionally, you want to help him sound out the words. But he usually knocks down his big scenes, and so he does here. This is the first time in a while that Crowe so willingly sinks into a character. I appreciate his performance.
Each new “sand movie” has been met by the public with indifference and exhaustion of real life. With Scott, DiCaprio, and Crowe, Body of Lies his is one of the most star-studded to date. Its fortune will be interesting to see.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Were the 1990s the best decade of film?
On in the movies section of a message board I frequent, they are playing a game in which each player chooses one year in the history of the film. Then the next player chooses another year, and so on down the line.
What occurs to me while watching this game is something that I've secretly suspected - the 1990s might well have been the best decade of film. Not necessarily the best 10-year period of film. But in terms of the first three digits being 1 and 9 and 9, it's very impressive. There just isn't a weak year.
While the early 1970s were strong, the late seventies were not so much. I wouldn't say the war years were particularly great in the forties. The strength of the 1930s is slanted toward the late years of the decade. The fifties, maybe. The sixties, eighties, and everything else are a no-go, IMO.
What occurs to me while watching this game is something that I've secretly suspected - the 1990s might well have been the best decade of film. Not necessarily the best 10-year period of film. But in terms of the first three digits being 1 and 9 and 9, it's very impressive. There just isn't a weak year.
While the early 1970s were strong, the late seventies were not so much. I wouldn't say the war years were particularly great in the forties. The strength of the 1930s is slanted toward the late years of the decade. The fifties, maybe. The sixties, eighties, and everything else are a no-go, IMO.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
British stars dying in America
The circular firing squad that was the box office this week (roughly ten new significant releases) ended with Simon Pegg's film, How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, bleeding on the ground. The box office death of another hyped British star trying to cross into the American market makes this a good time to raise this question - has there ever been a bigger gap between acting fame in England and in America?
Almost every touted British star that has tried to cross the pond lately has met with less than expected success. Ricky Gervais just had his film Ghost Town do ho-hum business. Steve Coogan has never quite caught on. Cillian Murphy. Colin Farell. Orlando Bloom. Sienna Miller.
Even the ones who have had success haven't had quite the success expected. Clive Owen is well known, but never quite the star expected. Christian Bale, great actor that he is, is the most anonymous Batman, and that's what he is best known for. Along those lines, Daniel Craig isn't nearly as famous here as he is in England. He's still slightly "the new Bond." Famous as she is, most of Keira Knightley's non-Pirates box office success has been in presitge indies that are profitable compared to costs. She hasn't had her own star vehicle box office smash yet.
There are exceptions. James McAvoy might be one. But maybe not quite yet. Still, it's interesting to contemplate.
Almost every touted British star that has tried to cross the pond lately has met with less than expected success. Ricky Gervais just had his film Ghost Town do ho-hum business. Steve Coogan has never quite caught on. Cillian Murphy. Colin Farell. Orlando Bloom. Sienna Miller.
Even the ones who have had success haven't had quite the success expected. Clive Owen is well known, but never quite the star expected. Christian Bale, great actor that he is, is the most anonymous Batman, and that's what he is best known for. Along those lines, Daniel Craig isn't nearly as famous here as he is in England. He's still slightly "the new Bond." Famous as she is, most of Keira Knightley's non-Pirates box office success has been in presitge indies that are profitable compared to costs. She hasn't had her own star vehicle box office smash yet.
There are exceptions. James McAvoy might be one. But maybe not quite yet. Still, it's interesting to contemplate.
Diane Lane and the big 4-0
A nice article (and great picture) on Diane Lane. It touches on something that I think is happening in the movie world - more roles for older actreses. When you look at the Oscar race this year, it includes Streep, Melissa Leo, Kristin Scott Thomas, in their forties and fifties. Debra Winger perhaps in supporting, as well. For real actresses in particular, the age 40 doesn't seem like quite the impediment it once was.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Star alignment
In some spooky cosmic alignment of stars, so to speak, this weekend's releases feature the two actresses for whom I'll admit being somewhat in the tank - Anne Hathaway and Gillian Anderson. I mean, I would never, ever write that they did well when they did not, but I do take special pleasure in seeing them succeed. The good news is that they are both making me look good.
Hathaway is drawing Oscar talk for Rachel Getting Married. I've yet to see it, as it doesn't arrive in Dallas for a couple of weeks. So I can't say either way. I'll say more when it gets here.
One or two negative critical notes aside, Anderson has drawn praise for a 10 to 15 minute support role in How to Lose Friends and Alienate People , with words such as "divine," "scene-stealer," "a vicious treat," etc. Her work since 2000's The House of Mirth (for which she came close to winning the New York Film Critic Circle's Best Actress award) has been generally hailed as very good to outstanding - this one, the BBC's Bleak House, The Last King of Scotland. Even The X-Files: I Want to Believe is one of the few times so far this year that I've seen an actress own a film, even if a lot of critics and audiences think it might not be much to own. All of which raises that ultimate question about her - how does a world-famous sex symbol with genuine acting talent coming off a bravura turn nearly disappear? How does Eva Mendes keep getting roles while Anderson sits in London collecting X-Files royalties?
I talk about her now, because you never know when you'll have the next opportunity. Her career is a riddle, one that hopefully is now moving toward better things. But the work has always been good.
Hathaway is drawing Oscar talk for Rachel Getting Married. I've yet to see it, as it doesn't arrive in Dallas for a couple of weeks. So I can't say either way. I'll say more when it gets here.
One or two negative critical notes aside, Anderson has drawn praise for a 10 to 15 minute support role in How to Lose Friends and Alienate People , with words such as "divine," "scene-stealer," "a vicious treat," etc. Her work since 2000's The House of Mirth (for which she came close to winning the New York Film Critic Circle's Best Actress award) has been generally hailed as very good to outstanding - this one, the BBC's Bleak House, The Last King of Scotland. Even The X-Files: I Want to Believe is one of the few times so far this year that I've seen an actress own a film, even if a lot of critics and audiences think it might not be much to own. All of which raises that ultimate question about her - how does a world-famous sex symbol with genuine acting talent coming off a bravura turn nearly disappear? How does Eva Mendes keep getting roles while Anderson sits in London collecting X-Files royalties?
I talk about her now, because you never know when you'll have the next opportunity. Her career is a riddle, one that hopefully is now moving toward better things. But the work has always been good.
Worst. Ripe. Tomato. Ever.
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.
Wit is dead. Make way for drunkenly sticking your hand into vomit-filled toilets and retrieving your gum. Comedy.
Wit is dead. Make way for drunkenly sticking your hand into vomit-filled toilets and retrieving your gum. Comedy.
St. Anna cameos
Am I the only one who watched Miracle at St. Anna without noticing the small roles for Alexandra Maria Lara, Kerry Washington, and John Turturro? I'm getting old. At least I can figure out who Lara was. I'm still blanking on the other two.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Alienated [How to Lose Friends and Alienate People]
How to Lose Friends and Alienate People [PG-13]
Grade: C
Cast: Simon Pegg, Kirsten Dunst, Danny Huston, Megan Fox, Gillian Anderson, Jeff Bridges
Director: Robert C. Weide
How does such a proven genre-deflater as Simon Pegg fall into such conventional quicksand?
Pegg undid the undead in the zombie film parody Shaun of the Dead. He uncuffed the cop action blowout in Hot Fuzz. So what happens when he tries to de-celebrate the celebrity culture in How to Lose Friends and Alienate People? Nothing quite so deflating. Which is deflating for the audience.
While it has its moments, the film never lives up to the quality of its absolutely awesome title, taken from a 2001 autobiography by Toby Young, in which the author records his inglorious stint as a Vanity Fair writer. His stand-in, Pegg’s Sidney Young, runs a shrimpy British magazine obnoxiously poking fun at the powerful, mainly to get them to notice him. When they run a naked cover photo of Sharps Magazine editor Clayton Harding (Jeff Bridges) Sidney expects a lawsuit. Instead he gets a job offer in New York.
Starting on the lowest rung, Sidney simultaneously wants to undress the celebrity culture and get into its pants. His outlandish tactics – singing drunken English football songs at lawn parties, bringing a lap dancer to work on Take Your Daughters to Work Day, asking an actor straight-up if he is gay, or Jewish — aim to puncture the cozy celebrity magazine culture and break the unwritten rules of celebrity journalism.
His act wears out his treacherous boss Lawrence Maddox (Danny Huston), befuddles his co-worker and unlikely love interest Alison Olsen (Kirsten Dunst), and frustrates PR cutthroat Eleanor Johnson (Gillian Anderson), who controls access to the largest stable of celebrities, including the luscious rising star Sophie Maes (Megan Fox), who likes strolling through pools fully clothed.
Sidney’s efforts to seduce Sophie end with his own seduction by the world he claims to despise. This should be fertile ground for comedy and theme, and sometimes it is, but it is left less developed than it could be. Unfortunately, the film also gets seduced by the worn staples of the romantic comedy. It’s when Dunst stops bashing the screw-up newcomer and the magic movie dust sprinkles love into the air that the film becomes less interesting.
And what do all these characters think about this uncouth intruder in their glossy-paged palace? It would be interesting to get a better feel from a strong cast. Bridges thrives in a rear-back-and-pitch-zingers kind of role. Squeezing Agent-Scully iciness for all its malicious potential, Anderson pads her status as the World’s Most Famous Underused Actress. When she rolls up a car window, watch your fingers. Can Megan Fox act? I don’t know. But she can pass as an ingénue and object of desire.
You suspect that the talented Pegg will eventually break through here. But he’s going to need better material. He would do well to pay attention to Sidney’s fate.
Grade: C
Cast: Simon Pegg, Kirsten Dunst, Danny Huston, Megan Fox, Gillian Anderson, Jeff Bridges
Director: Robert C. Weide
How does such a proven genre-deflater as Simon Pegg fall into such conventional quicksand?
Pegg undid the undead in the zombie film parody Shaun of the Dead. He uncuffed the cop action blowout in Hot Fuzz. So what happens when he tries to de-celebrate the celebrity culture in How to Lose Friends and Alienate People? Nothing quite so deflating. Which is deflating for the audience.
While it has its moments, the film never lives up to the quality of its absolutely awesome title, taken from a 2001 autobiography by Toby Young, in which the author records his inglorious stint as a Vanity Fair writer. His stand-in, Pegg’s Sidney Young, runs a shrimpy British magazine obnoxiously poking fun at the powerful, mainly to get them to notice him. When they run a naked cover photo of Sharps Magazine editor Clayton Harding (Jeff Bridges) Sidney expects a lawsuit. Instead he gets a job offer in New York.
Starting on the lowest rung, Sidney simultaneously wants to undress the celebrity culture and get into its pants. His outlandish tactics – singing drunken English football songs at lawn parties, bringing a lap dancer to work on Take Your Daughters to Work Day, asking an actor straight-up if he is gay, or Jewish — aim to puncture the cozy celebrity magazine culture and break the unwritten rules of celebrity journalism.
His act wears out his treacherous boss Lawrence Maddox (Danny Huston), befuddles his co-worker and unlikely love interest Alison Olsen (Kirsten Dunst), and frustrates PR cutthroat Eleanor Johnson (Gillian Anderson), who controls access to the largest stable of celebrities, including the luscious rising star Sophie Maes (Megan Fox), who likes strolling through pools fully clothed.
Sidney’s efforts to seduce Sophie end with his own seduction by the world he claims to despise. This should be fertile ground for comedy and theme, and sometimes it is, but it is left less developed than it could be. Unfortunately, the film also gets seduced by the worn staples of the romantic comedy. It’s when Dunst stops bashing the screw-up newcomer and the magic movie dust sprinkles love into the air that the film becomes less interesting.
And what do all these characters think about this uncouth intruder in their glossy-paged palace? It would be interesting to get a better feel from a strong cast. Bridges thrives in a rear-back-and-pitch-zingers kind of role. Squeezing Agent-Scully iciness for all its malicious potential, Anderson pads her status as the World’s Most Famous Underused Actress. When she rolls up a car window, watch your fingers. Can Megan Fox act? I don’t know. But she can pass as an ingénue and object of desire.
You suspect that the talented Pegg will eventually break through here. But he’s going to need better material. He would do well to pay attention to Sidney’s fate.
Infinite Jest [Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist]
Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist [PG-13]
Grade: F
Cast: Michael Cera, Kat Dennings, Alexis Dziena, Aaron Yoo, Ari Graynor
Director: Peter Sollett
For a film stealing the names of cinema’s most famous husband-and-wife detectives, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist produces only one mystery.
How is it that the cast members of a great cinematic accomplishment like The Dark Knight suffer a destructive curse, while the makers of this crap get away scot free? Does fate not have a sense of justice? Obviously it has a sense of humor, which is more than this film can say.
Implying an ode and ending up as sacrilege, this film’s title alludes to the classic Thin Man comedies of the 1930s. Yes, Nick and Nora Charles counted their drinks by the flask. But it’s hard to imagine Myrna Loy sticking her hand into a vomit-filled subway station toilet to fish out a cell phone. Much less doing so as an act of “comedy.”
But who needs wit and dash when you can have the puerile horndog comedy of Playlist, brought to you by the producers of American Pie. If this is an attempt at a more “mature” version of those films, then it means only that they have transported immature gross-out behavior to older people.
The thin man of this cinematic crime is Michael Cera, a nerdy college age musician recently dumped by his manipulative cutie-pie ex (Alexis Dziena) and now gently pursuing her enemy, the soulful Norah (Kat Dennings, who puts the mono in monotone).Thrown together less by fate than car trouble, they spend the night together trying to solve their own mystery – finding the New York club where their favorite band is playing a secret show. All comparisons to Before Sunrise should self-destruct upon contact.
The film is directed by Peter Sollett, who debuted with the much-respected indie Raising Victor Vargas. What he’s going for here, beyond a paycheck, I don’t see. Some reviews have already described the film as sweetly compelling. I don’t see that, either. Perhaps that’s because I covered my eyes for a good share of the screening.
The music is cool, though. Perhaps open ears and closed eyes is the perfect way to watch.
Grade: F
Cast: Michael Cera, Kat Dennings, Alexis Dziena, Aaron Yoo, Ari Graynor
Director: Peter Sollett
For a film stealing the names of cinema’s most famous husband-and-wife detectives, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist produces only one mystery.
How is it that the cast members of a great cinematic accomplishment like The Dark Knight suffer a destructive curse, while the makers of this crap get away scot free? Does fate not have a sense of justice? Obviously it has a sense of humor, which is more than this film can say.
Implying an ode and ending up as sacrilege, this film’s title alludes to the classic Thin Man comedies of the 1930s. Yes, Nick and Nora Charles counted their drinks by the flask. But it’s hard to imagine Myrna Loy sticking her hand into a vomit-filled subway station toilet to fish out a cell phone. Much less doing so as an act of “comedy.”
But who needs wit and dash when you can have the puerile horndog comedy of Playlist, brought to you by the producers of American Pie. If this is an attempt at a more “mature” version of those films, then it means only that they have transported immature gross-out behavior to older people.
The thin man of this cinematic crime is Michael Cera, a nerdy college age musician recently dumped by his manipulative cutie-pie ex (Alexis Dziena) and now gently pursuing her enemy, the soulful Norah (Kat Dennings, who puts the mono in monotone).Thrown together less by fate than car trouble, they spend the night together trying to solve their own mystery – finding the New York club where their favorite band is playing a secret show. All comparisons to Before Sunrise should self-destruct upon contact.
The film is directed by Peter Sollett, who debuted with the much-respected indie Raising Victor Vargas. What he’s going for here, beyond a paycheck, I don’t see. Some reviews have already described the film as sweetly compelling. I don’t see that, either. Perhaps that’s because I covered my eyes for a good share of the screening.
The music is cool, though. Perhaps open ears and closed eyes is the perfect way to watch.
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