Monday, March 31, 2008
Jules Dassin, rest in peace
Passing today was Jules Dassin, age 96, American expatriate director. It's hard to say what he is most famous for. He was blacklisted during the McCarthy era. He moved to Europe and made two of the great noirs of the era, Night and the City (with the recently passed Richard Widmark) and, most especially, the towering French-language Rififi, a mainstay of greatest films surveys. His name is something of a peculiarity to hardcore cineastes, but he should be known to a wider audience as one of the great American directors.
Be a dentist
Before taking a look at this "Top 5 dental movies" article, I'm going to guess .... Little Shop of Horrors, The Marathon Man, The Secret Lives of Dentists, and .... something other than that Dane Cook fiasco last year.
Yep those are there. And Dane Cook thankfully isn't. Is it safe? Yes.
Yep those are there. And Dane Cook thankfully isn't. Is it safe? Yes.
Rockwell on Jesse James
I post this for two reasons, because it's nice to see a beautiful quote from Sam Rockwell about his pride and confidence in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and because I didn't realize the Chicago Tribune's Michael Phillips had a blog.
Rockwell's quote:
"That film, he says, 'is going to age well. I guess the studio people know what they’re doing, because they didn’t have a lot of faith in it. So financially they might’ve been right. But artistically they’re wrong, in my opinion. And I don’t really give a [rip] about the financial end. I mean, I do, of course; I want the movies to be seen. But I don’t like it when people validate films by their financial success.' "
Rockwell's quote:
"That film, he says, 'is going to age well. I guess the studio people know what they’re doing, because they didn’t have a lot of faith in it. So financially they might’ve been right. But artistically they’re wrong, in my opinion. And I don’t really give a [rip] about the financial end. I mean, I do, of course; I want the movies to be seen. But I don’t like it when people validate films by their financial success.' "
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Another critic leaves
I haven't talked a lot about the departure of film critics from their jobs at major print publications, but it has reached epidemic proportion. The news that David Ansen is leaving Newsweek makes your head spin.
I must say that I don't always understand why the film reviewer is seen as an obvious target for these things. I suspect that editors, coming from the news side, have a bias to making sure that every beat is covered and see the role of film reviewer as a luxury compared to things like covering a planning and zoning meeting. At the same time, I'm not sure that they realize that people actually like reading the reviews. It's an appointment reason for picking up a newspaper.
I knew a couple of critics who wrote for a small local newspaper chain. They told me that at one time their outlet cut them off. After doing a reader's survey, they invited them back. It turned out that reviews were one of the better-read items in the paper.
I don't know if that justifies a full staff position. Heck, I don't even know how applicable it is to the experience of other publications. And maybe it's different and there are other variables at play for larger papers and magazines. But I wonder how many outlets consider this when making buyout decisions.
I must say that I don't always understand why the film reviewer is seen as an obvious target for these things. I suspect that editors, coming from the news side, have a bias to making sure that every beat is covered and see the role of film reviewer as a luxury compared to things like covering a planning and zoning meeting. At the same time, I'm not sure that they realize that people actually like reading the reviews. It's an appointment reason for picking up a newspaper.
I knew a couple of critics who wrote for a small local newspaper chain. They told me that at one time their outlet cut them off. After doing a reader's survey, they invited them back. It turned out that reviews were one of the better-read items in the paper.
I don't know if that justifies a full staff position. Heck, I don't even know how applicable it is to the experience of other publications. And maybe it's different and there are other variables at play for larger papers and magazines. But I wonder how many outlets consider this when making buyout decisions.
Rating system
Rating the films this weekend reminded me ... I need to think of a new system of rating. The problem with the letter grades is that it connotates something worse than a film might be. I don't want to add plusses and minuses, because sooner or later you're working with a fifteen point system. What's the difference between a B-minus and a C-plus? That's a pretty fine line. In addition, It's hard for me to reconcile giving a film like No Country for Old Men, which on original viewing I found a little less than outstanding-enough for an A, the same B as 21, which I found better than the expected C. I'm not sure that works.
If anyone has ideas, please let me know.
If anyone has ideas, please let me know.
Friday, March 28, 2008
A win-loss situation (Stop-Loss)
Stop-Loss [R]
Grade: C
Every general knows the danger of fighting the last war.
High-school history brings you the Maginot Line – the underground French trench system, presumably stocked with the best wine and cheese, that would go unused in a war of tanks and planes. It probably was the nicest hole in the ground never to see use.
For filmmakers, that lesson can get lost in the fog of war. John Wayne’s The Green Berets, for instance, looked back to World War II propaganda movies that kept up home front morale. It was a perspective difficult to reconcile with the nature of the new conflict. Likewise, I think it’s fair to say the present Iraq War films suffer from Vietnam hangover, seen mainly through the lessons of that unfortunate war.
Kimberly Peirce’s uneven Stop-Loss may be the best Vietnam movie ever made about the Iraq War. Its understanding of war, right or wrong, comes from the prism of that conflict. A “backdoor” draft. Traumatic flashbacks. Soldiers killing women and children. Is there really an underground railroad shipping today’s AWOL soldiers to Canada? And is that representative of the soldier’s experience in this war? Peirce has presumably done research, but I'm not entirely convinced.
Take for example one of the film’s best scenes – Sergeant Brandon King (Ryan Phillippe), AWOL from his unit, visits an Army medical center to see a badly wounded friend. The scene is as genuinely touching as it should be, and eloquently speaks against the brutality of war. And yet some of this war’s most interesting stories are those of bionic advances in military medicine. With the disappearance of peg legs, interviewed soldiers seem eager to show off My New Shin by DuPont. Then some of those head back to Iraq because of their investment in their friends and their cause. This experience opens the field to artistic ironies specific to this war. Yet they remain untouched by the conventional take.
There’s something in the soldier mentality that evades many artists, who fancy themselves wide-eyed opponents of violence. Oliver Stone, an ex-Marine, captured that spirit in World Trade Center, with the story of another ex-Marine who dropped everything and headed to the rubble on that tragic day. Paul Haggis missed it completely with the final shot of In the Valley of Elah. It's something Haggis might do, but never his character. At times Peirce shows real understanding of that mentality. Yet the story relies on a route a decorated soldier would be unlikely to take.
The film opens chasing a unit of soldiers into a narrow Tikrit alley filled with gunmen. It’s a scintillatingly shot sequence, perfectly blending wide shots and close-ups to provide both perspective and intimacy. Several of King's men are killed or injured in the ambush, and these things will come to haunt him.
Soon, the men return home for leave. They scatter for several days among friends and family. Several of the soldiers’ service is up, including King. He’s ready for discharge. Then he learns his departure from the Army has been refused under the government's Stop-Loss policy, which prevents some soldiers' releases during time of war. By law, King must return to Iraq.
You suspect this sort of thing happens regularly and probably gets smoothed over without escalating into a cross-country manhunt. Organizations with personnel issues learn to be flexible. Yet manhunt, it is. Escaping from captivity, Moss hits the road with a childhood friend (Abbie Cornish). Along the trail of seedy hotel rooms, they meet others who share their situation, while he deals with leftover grief, guilt, and violence. In the end, he must choose between leaving his family and homeland and the possibility of the brig or death.
Sometimes Stop-Loss is the Varsity Blues of Iraq war movies, its soldiers dumber than the Texas dirt, kickin’ back Shiners and shooting pop cans as the toothless locals pull up lawn chairs to watch. At other times, it’s a very affecting little melodrama, with a social conscious resembling The Best Years of Our Lives. The greatest value of the film may not be in opposing the war, but in effectively spotlighting soldier’s social issues.
That’s good news for the film, because I was left with this question – does the film really oppose the war? Or does it merely oppose dragging men into action? If so, was it wrong to yank young men from their homes to fight the Nazis? I suspect we know Peirce’s answers, yet this seems a wonkish way to oppose a moral tragedy. I think it would work better by approaching head on, spending less time beating around the Bush, so to speak.
Grade: C
Every general knows the danger of fighting the last war.
High-school history brings you the Maginot Line – the underground French trench system, presumably stocked with the best wine and cheese, that would go unused in a war of tanks and planes. It probably was the nicest hole in the ground never to see use.
For filmmakers, that lesson can get lost in the fog of war. John Wayne’s The Green Berets, for instance, looked back to World War II propaganda movies that kept up home front morale. It was a perspective difficult to reconcile with the nature of the new conflict. Likewise, I think it’s fair to say the present Iraq War films suffer from Vietnam hangover, seen mainly through the lessons of that unfortunate war.
Kimberly Peirce’s uneven Stop-Loss may be the best Vietnam movie ever made about the Iraq War. Its understanding of war, right or wrong, comes from the prism of that conflict. A “backdoor” draft. Traumatic flashbacks. Soldiers killing women and children. Is there really an underground railroad shipping today’s AWOL soldiers to Canada? And is that representative of the soldier’s experience in this war? Peirce has presumably done research, but I'm not entirely convinced.
Take for example one of the film’s best scenes – Sergeant Brandon King (Ryan Phillippe), AWOL from his unit, visits an Army medical center to see a badly wounded friend. The scene is as genuinely touching as it should be, and eloquently speaks against the brutality of war. And yet some of this war’s most interesting stories are those of bionic advances in military medicine. With the disappearance of peg legs, interviewed soldiers seem eager to show off My New Shin by DuPont. Then some of those head back to Iraq because of their investment in their friends and their cause. This experience opens the field to artistic ironies specific to this war. Yet they remain untouched by the conventional take.
There’s something in the soldier mentality that evades many artists, who fancy themselves wide-eyed opponents of violence. Oliver Stone, an ex-Marine, captured that spirit in World Trade Center, with the story of another ex-Marine who dropped everything and headed to the rubble on that tragic day. Paul Haggis missed it completely with the final shot of In the Valley of Elah. It's something Haggis might do, but never his character. At times Peirce shows real understanding of that mentality. Yet the story relies on a route a decorated soldier would be unlikely to take.
The film opens chasing a unit of soldiers into a narrow Tikrit alley filled with gunmen. It’s a scintillatingly shot sequence, perfectly blending wide shots and close-ups to provide both perspective and intimacy. Several of King's men are killed or injured in the ambush, and these things will come to haunt him.
Soon, the men return home for leave. They scatter for several days among friends and family. Several of the soldiers’ service is up, including King. He’s ready for discharge. Then he learns his departure from the Army has been refused under the government's Stop-Loss policy, which prevents some soldiers' releases during time of war. By law, King must return to Iraq.
You suspect this sort of thing happens regularly and probably gets smoothed over without escalating into a cross-country manhunt. Organizations with personnel issues learn to be flexible. Yet manhunt, it is. Escaping from captivity, Moss hits the road with a childhood friend (Abbie Cornish). Along the trail of seedy hotel rooms, they meet others who share their situation, while he deals with leftover grief, guilt, and violence. In the end, he must choose between leaving his family and homeland and the possibility of the brig or death.
Sometimes Stop-Loss is the Varsity Blues of Iraq war movies, its soldiers dumber than the Texas dirt, kickin’ back Shiners and shooting pop cans as the toothless locals pull up lawn chairs to watch. At other times, it’s a very affecting little melodrama, with a social conscious resembling The Best Years of Our Lives. The greatest value of the film may not be in opposing the war, but in effectively spotlighting soldier’s social issues.
That’s good news for the film, because I was left with this question – does the film really oppose the war? Or does it merely oppose dragging men into action? If so, was it wrong to yank young men from their homes to fight the Nazis? I suspect we know Peirce’s answers, yet this seems a wonkish way to oppose a moral tragedy. I think it would work better by approaching head on, spending less time beating around the Bush, so to speak.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
High Card (21)
21 [PG-13]
Grade: B
Hollywood likes nothing more than cashing in on a trend, but America’s recent card playing fixation hasn’t made for the easiest milking.
In many ways, Casino Royale ran the table, but the fireworks often were away from it. Lucky You, a film I often find myself apologizing for liking, taps into the addictive ups and downs of a gambler’s life. Yet the studied card games, suffused with family melodrama, never thrill.
There’s an obvious reason for this. Have you ever watched other people play cards? Typically, you do so at a holiday gathering, splitting your attention between the hand at play and hustling the leftovers to the fridge. It’s not exactly a spectator sport.
So 21 works out a way to double down. Ignore the game. Play to the high of the hunt and the after-hours lifestyle. Against the odds, this is a winning hand. At its best, 21 is a spirited exercise in style and motion, the type of film that dazzles away its weaknesses.
In order to pay for Harvard med school, an MIT super-brain (Jim Sturgess) joins a secret society of fellow students. Unlike most school clubs, these guys and gals don’t do panty raids or extra French. They treat Vegas like an ATM machine using a system of “counting cards.” Think of it as a Skull and Bones Society for math dorks.
Except these aren’t dorks. This fantasy MIT has few people in need of covering their faces with paper sacks. But unlike the pretty faces of Cloverfield, at least these kids can think their way out of one. One of the endearing (and rare) side effects of 21 is that it makes high intelligence look like a hip aspiration.
This crew stands or folds by the orders of an arrogant professor (Kevin Spacey) who enjoys card playing, math theory, and making vague threats about the perfect murder. His exploits in Vegas have earned him the wrath of a security officer (Laurence Fishburne) whose gumshoe methods are being replaced by technology, along with his business.
What works for 21 is how in on it you become. True, the card counting is never completely explained. If it were, I wouldn’t be here right now, and I wouldn’t be telling you. You enjoy that clandestine thrill of being in on a secret, a glamorous secret at that.
Like any gambler, its luck starts to run out. The ending staggers like a drunk salesman at the MGM Grand at 2:43 a.m. Its characters, never richly flowered, start to fold. The finale has twists, but the bluffs are easy to see.
The film is likely to get browbeaten for taking a real story and sexing it up, chucking mathematical formulas for “MTV editing” and glitz. Some critics will leave it standing bare-assed at the mercy of the False Ruler of Realism. But you’re not reading the words of a critic inherently horrified by Hollywood fantasy. Would you rather watch the “real story,” all plainly shot and earnestly acted, with a pocket protector posse breaking the bank in between Lord of the Rings bull sessions? Besides, I liked MTV back when it still played videos.
Sturgess, who appeared in last year’s Beatles tribute Across the Universe, resembles a young Tom Cruise. His character actually remarks upon it. And the film borrows pieces of Cruise movies – a little Rain Man, a little Risky Business, a little of the talented youngster training under the father figure and winning the girl (Kate Bosworth). Like Cruise in Risky Business, Sturgess gets both the naïve kid and later the seasoned operator. Some might call that an inconsistent character. I call it a kid with a future.
Grade: B
Hollywood likes nothing more than cashing in on a trend, but America’s recent card playing fixation hasn’t made for the easiest milking.
In many ways, Casino Royale ran the table, but the fireworks often were away from it. Lucky You, a film I often find myself apologizing for liking, taps into the addictive ups and downs of a gambler’s life. Yet the studied card games, suffused with family melodrama, never thrill.
There’s an obvious reason for this. Have you ever watched other people play cards? Typically, you do so at a holiday gathering, splitting your attention between the hand at play and hustling the leftovers to the fridge. It’s not exactly a spectator sport.
So 21 works out a way to double down. Ignore the game. Play to the high of the hunt and the after-hours lifestyle. Against the odds, this is a winning hand. At its best, 21 is a spirited exercise in style and motion, the type of film that dazzles away its weaknesses.
In order to pay for Harvard med school, an MIT super-brain (Jim Sturgess) joins a secret society of fellow students. Unlike most school clubs, these guys and gals don’t do panty raids or extra French. They treat Vegas like an ATM machine using a system of “counting cards.” Think of it as a Skull and Bones Society for math dorks.
Except these aren’t dorks. This fantasy MIT has few people in need of covering their faces with paper sacks. But unlike the pretty faces of Cloverfield, at least these kids can think their way out of one. One of the endearing (and rare) side effects of 21 is that it makes high intelligence look like a hip aspiration.
This crew stands or folds by the orders of an arrogant professor (Kevin Spacey) who enjoys card playing, math theory, and making vague threats about the perfect murder. His exploits in Vegas have earned him the wrath of a security officer (Laurence Fishburne) whose gumshoe methods are being replaced by technology, along with his business.
What works for 21 is how in on it you become. True, the card counting is never completely explained. If it were, I wouldn’t be here right now, and I wouldn’t be telling you. You enjoy that clandestine thrill of being in on a secret, a glamorous secret at that.
Like any gambler, its luck starts to run out. The ending staggers like a drunk salesman at the MGM Grand at 2:43 a.m. Its characters, never richly flowered, start to fold. The finale has twists, but the bluffs are easy to see.
The film is likely to get browbeaten for taking a real story and sexing it up, chucking mathematical formulas for “MTV editing” and glitz. Some critics will leave it standing bare-assed at the mercy of the False Ruler of Realism. But you’re not reading the words of a critic inherently horrified by Hollywood fantasy. Would you rather watch the “real story,” all plainly shot and earnestly acted, with a pocket protector posse breaking the bank in between Lord of the Rings bull sessions? Besides, I liked MTV back when it still played videos.
Sturgess, who appeared in last year’s Beatles tribute Across the Universe, resembles a young Tom Cruise. His character actually remarks upon it. And the film borrows pieces of Cruise movies – a little Rain Man, a little Risky Business, a little of the talented youngster training under the father figure and winning the girl (Kate Bosworth). Like Cruise in Risky Business, Sturgess gets both the naïve kid and later the seasoned operator. Some might call that an inconsistent character. I call it a kid with a future.
Moore sucks
I try to avoid entertainment gossip, but this cannot avoid being commented upon.
“I’ve always been somebody looking for the cutting edge of things that are for optimizing your health and healing, so just a week ago I was in Austria doing a cleanse and part of the treatment was leech therapy,” she told Letterman.
“These aren’t just swamp leeches, these are highly trained medical leeches,” she said. “These are not just some low-level scavengers; we’re talking high-level blood-suckers.”
Demi, how exactly do you train a leech? And will yoiu soon be using that cutting-edge medical technique of voodoo?
“I’ve always been somebody looking for the cutting edge of things that are for optimizing your health and healing, so just a week ago I was in Austria doing a cleanse and part of the treatment was leech therapy,” she told Letterman.
“These aren’t just swamp leeches, these are highly trained medical leeches,” she said. “These are not just some low-level scavengers; we’re talking high-level blood-suckers.”
Demi, how exactly do you train a leech? And will yoiu soon be using that cutting-edge medical technique of voodoo?
That lovin' feelin'
I really get a kick out of going into a 60-40 movie, one of those you figure will be either slightly better or slightly worse than mediocre, and coming away with an unexpectedly positive experience. I had that happen with 21 tonight. I see that the early reviews are mixed, but I think those reviews fail to see the hip, escapist edge of the movie. It's a fantasy, and critics are using the false ruler of realism to browbeat it.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Richard Widmark, rest in peace
As a blogger, there's no worse feeling than leaving the hacienda for a few hours and then hearing on the radio as you drive away that there was a major movie death. Today, that was tough customer Richard Widmark. My favorite Widmark performance is in Sam Fuller's Pick Up on South Street, where he plays a local criminal mixed up in international espionage. He was a favorite of the true film connoisseur.
A wild week
After several weeks of relative frolic, I finally have a heavy film schedule this week. I saw Smart People and Stop-Loss yesterday. I see Snow Angels and 21 today. I see My Blueberry Nights tomorrow. Then the AFI-Dallas fest starts tomorrow as well. I have no idea what kind of coverage I haven't even thought about it. But I'll see what I can do.
Smart call
A trend I've noticed lately is that of the young eighties star giving into age and delivering a terrific middle-aged performance. Matt Dillon has given a number of terrific performances in his lifetime, but the one I have in mind is Factotum. John Cusack has been a generational star, but he brought out a quiet, interiorized desperation in Grace Is Gone. The latest is Dennis Quaid, who gives a wonderfully weary performance in Smart People, which opens in a few weeks. I re-watched The Right Stuff a week or two ago, and it's amazing to think that the baby-faced hot dog astronaut and this wrinkly, self-focused English professor were portrayed by the same person. Every year there's a performance delivered by a veteran early in the year that Oscar forgets. Joan Allen in The Upside of Anger. Richard Gere in The Hoax, etc. I would love to see this one stick around.
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