This movie has received nothing but the most positive, glowing reviews through all the major news outlets. It came highly recommended to me by more than one fellow film student. I'm a big fan of the Coen brothers when they're on their game (Fargo, The Big Lebowski); not so much when they're off (Intolerable Cruelty, The Ladykillers). Sometimes they're brilliant, and sometimes they're simply doing something different. Who knows what that might be; it's whatever they feel like at the time. This film shows both sides. Unfortunately, the brilliance takes place in the first 3/4 of the movie, while the entire third act is so close to pointless that it completely ruins the experience.
So let's talk about the bulk of the movie first: it's incredible to watch, and especially to hear. The use of sound is really, truly wonderful. What you hear, how you hear it, and many times, what you don't hear...it all brings you right into the story, and they make it seem effortless. The performances are solid all around, with the notable exception of Javier Bardem - he is absolutely terrifying. Part of it is what the Coens have him say and do, but much of it comes from his eyes, his voice, his facial expression or lack thereof...his body language. It's quite amazing to see, and very unnerving.
The story is typically Coen-esque; regular guy Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) finds two million dollars and a bunch of dead guys out in the middle of nowhere. He takes the money, but goes back later with a gallon of water to see if he can't help one of the guys who wasn't quite dead. I give the writing credit here for having Moss tell his wife that he's going out to do something "dumber than hell, but I'm doin' it anyway." That gets the script off the hook for the rest of the plot hinging on a character's bad decision. He admits it's a bad idea, so for the story's sake, it works. Naturally, the bad guys find him and come after him, and he's got to be smart enough to stay alive.
At the point in the story when it seems as though a number of these various characters, good and bad, will come together in the form of some type of confrontation...well, nothing else really happens. I can't go into detail without giving away everything that actually does happen, but...the Coens dropped the ball. They just stop telling the story here. What happens to this character? Where is another character at this point? What about that plot point? All dropped. None of these questions are answered. We are left to guess or assume at the outcome of events. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I'm being told a story, I like to actually be told the story. I don't want to guess or assume. I can, but what's the point? It's their story; they should tell it. If I want to tell a story, I will, but that's my own screenplay. I'm watching their movie; I expect them to show me what happens. And they don't.
Some people have argued that it works because it defies convention. Yes, it defies convention; the Coens tend to do that. No, it doesn't work, not simply because it's different. It has to be different and good, not different and wrong. There's nothing wrong with leading an audience to believe events will resolve in a particular manner, then turn it around and do it in a surprising way. But you still have to resolve the story you created, and they don't do that here. It doesn't have to be a "happy" ending. It can be anti-climactic. You don't have to end the movie with a big explosion; you can end the movie with a tired old man describing his dream of his father. Subvert expectations; play the downside. I'm all for that. But don't fail to continue the story. Don't leave too many things open to assumption. Tell the story. Show me what happens.
What's so crazy about this is how well they were telling the story, up to the point at which they stopped. It was so good, and so compelling, and so powerful...then it stops. I don't want to say what is happening at the point at which it stops, because I don't want to ruin anything, but I will say this...there is a brief conversation, between a major character and one not seen before, that appears to be meaningless and out of place, and before any meaning of this conversation becomes apparent, the screen fades to black, and I believe that's the first time there's a fade out. After that...well, be prepared not to have any more questions answered from that point on.
The sad thing is, during that scene, and its fade out, I thought to myself: "Gee, this seems rather pointless, but it's a Coen brothers film, so there's probably some meaning in it that will become clear later." But it never did. Not much after that was made clear at all. And I'm a big believer in filmmakers making things clear to the audience. They shouldn't spell everything out, but they should make things clear. There's a difference. At the end of Citizen Kane, showing the sled in the fire...that's making it clear. If a guy had seen the sled and told another person "Rosebud, that's what he said when he died, I guess he wished he'd had a simple happy life instead of the way he grew up and lived..." That's spelling it out. And nobody wants that. No Country For Old Men could have been truly great, had they only finished the story they began.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Happy Feet
Holy crap. I don't know where to start. I suppose I should begin by saying that I did not watch this entire movie. I know, I know; most people would say it's wrong to judge a movie without seeing the whole thing. I agree. That's why I'm only judging the part I did see.
I barely made it through half an hour, and that's after being ready to give up at the ten minute mark. Rarely will I quit on a movie without watching the whole thing, but this was, frankly, unbearable. How did this win an Oscar? Seriously, WTF? Admittedly I'm a big Pixar fan, I own all their movies, and while I admit that Cars is not as great a movie as Monsters, Inc. or The Incredibles, it's a solid motion picture with a decent story and well-defined characters; certainly more deserving of an Oscar, given the nominees. Happy Feet is a bunch of shit thrown into a pile and then smeared into the proper aspect ratio.
Okay - the animation itself is extraordinary. It's really quite beautiful. Big deal. Artists create art. They're good at it, I admire them for it. Apparently someone convinced these artists they were working on something that was actually going to tell a story and create characters. But there's nothing there. It opens with a bunch of penguins singing well-known songs in order to attract one another. I didn't realize penguins listened to the radio. This is how they get together? This is how they find each other, with what the movie calls a "heart song"? Shouldn't it be a song from the heart, and not the radio? One of these penguins is named Memphis. He sings an Elvis song. He talks like Elvis. This is not a character; it's a characterization. And it's not good filmmaking. It's cheap, it's dull, and it's not amusing.
What little story there is, involving Mumble the son of Memphis and his inability to sing, is constantly interrupted by extended musical numbers. The penguins sing, the soundtrack plays some old good song...again, I just have to say it...WTF? Is there a friggin' story goin' on or what? And it's usually not a good idea to let the soundtrack tell more of your story than, say, I don't know, action and dialogue. It might be a good idea to use an actual musical score in there. Just because Quentin Tarantino often forgoes it doesn't mean it'll work for everyone. You have to actually tell a story at the same time, not just throw a little scene in between the songs.
Here's an annoying hypocrisy: Memphis objects to Mumble's tap-dancing because "It's just not penguin." But Memphis himself is dancing all the time! He does Elvis moves. All the damn time. That's even how, and I can't believe high wide the arc of the roll of my eyes when I saw this, that's how Memphis managed to spill Mumble's egg into the snow before he hatched. He was standing at the edge of the huddled mass of penguins, taking his turn against the wind, dancing and singing. Like Elvis. For no fucking reason whatsoever. And the egg tumbled off into the snow. And he thinks this "accident" is why Mumble can't sing. This is so unbelievably stupid, I can't even believe I managed to recount it without banging my head into the wall.
Now maybe this hypocrisy belongs to Memphis, and not the filmmakers, and it's actually pointed out to him at some point later in the movie, and I'm judging it wrongfully because I didn't watch the whole thing, but...no way. Fuck it. I don't want to see another minute. When the wind kicks up snow to create a ghostly image of a god-like penguin that all of them worship...I just don't know what to say about that. I simply can't believe they thought that was a good idea, during all the years it takes to create the film, and stuck with it the whole time. I'm flabbergasted. It's too astonishing to comprehend.
I gave up watching at the point Mumble and his "graduating class" (don't ask) go swimming, with penguins zipping around like a military air show, but underwater. Wow. The lack of character development and story progression staggers me. Actually, I managed to watch that and the following scene in which Mumble fights over a fish with several birds, who fly away with him still hanging on and then drop him on the ice...at which point they go into another song. I've got nothing against musicals in general, but, come on...they just keep singing songs I've heard on the radio for years. What's the point? How is this telling a story? What does it have to do with the life of a penguin? Nothing.
Okay. They got the idea from the truth of nature; real penguins recognize their mates and their offspring by the sounds they make, so a group of fictional anthropomorphic penguins that fall in love based on the song they sing, and the necessity of being able to sing so you can find a mate and replenish the population of your species...I get it. But if the song itself is so important...why are they singing songs from the 70's? Shouldn't they have their own song? I like that music, but I also know it doesn't belong here! And they actually play this off as if the penguins are creating their own songs! That really pissed me off. There is literally a scene with a "teacher" penguin asking her young students to sing their heart songs for her...and the two kids she calls on both sing songs we as an audience are meant to recognize. Honestly...who ever thinks this stuff is a good idea?
I'm all for animated movies that encourage both kids and adults to be themselves, believe in themselves, and be happy with who they are, but...I think that message fails when the filmmakers themselves fail to create either music or characters to be a part of their movie. They're simply grabbing things that have already been created and putting it together. It's not a movie, it's a collage. It's hideous. I weep for the world of animation, and cinema at large, when this is the type of garbage that is not only approved, but praised and enjoyed. I feel sick. I need to watch something wonderful like Little Miss Sunshine to cleanse me of this disgusting, awful mess. In the words of Elmer Fudd, "Good widdance to bad wubbish!"
I barely made it through half an hour, and that's after being ready to give up at the ten minute mark. Rarely will I quit on a movie without watching the whole thing, but this was, frankly, unbearable. How did this win an Oscar? Seriously, WTF? Admittedly I'm a big Pixar fan, I own all their movies, and while I admit that Cars is not as great a movie as Monsters, Inc. or The Incredibles, it's a solid motion picture with a decent story and well-defined characters; certainly more deserving of an Oscar, given the nominees. Happy Feet is a bunch of shit thrown into a pile and then smeared into the proper aspect ratio.
Okay - the animation itself is extraordinary. It's really quite beautiful. Big deal. Artists create art. They're good at it, I admire them for it. Apparently someone convinced these artists they were working on something that was actually going to tell a story and create characters. But there's nothing there. It opens with a bunch of penguins singing well-known songs in order to attract one another. I didn't realize penguins listened to the radio. This is how they get together? This is how they find each other, with what the movie calls a "heart song"? Shouldn't it be a song from the heart, and not the radio? One of these penguins is named Memphis. He sings an Elvis song. He talks like Elvis. This is not a character; it's a characterization. And it's not good filmmaking. It's cheap, it's dull, and it's not amusing.
What little story there is, involving Mumble the son of Memphis and his inability to sing, is constantly interrupted by extended musical numbers. The penguins sing, the soundtrack plays some old good song...again, I just have to say it...WTF? Is there a friggin' story goin' on or what? And it's usually not a good idea to let the soundtrack tell more of your story than, say, I don't know, action and dialogue. It might be a good idea to use an actual musical score in there. Just because Quentin Tarantino often forgoes it doesn't mean it'll work for everyone. You have to actually tell a story at the same time, not just throw a little scene in between the songs.
Here's an annoying hypocrisy: Memphis objects to Mumble's tap-dancing because "It's just not penguin." But Memphis himself is dancing all the time! He does Elvis moves. All the damn time. That's even how, and I can't believe high wide the arc of the roll of my eyes when I saw this, that's how Memphis managed to spill Mumble's egg into the snow before he hatched. He was standing at the edge of the huddled mass of penguins, taking his turn against the wind, dancing and singing. Like Elvis. For no fucking reason whatsoever. And the egg tumbled off into the snow. And he thinks this "accident" is why Mumble can't sing. This is so unbelievably stupid, I can't even believe I managed to recount it without banging my head into the wall.
Now maybe this hypocrisy belongs to Memphis, and not the filmmakers, and it's actually pointed out to him at some point later in the movie, and I'm judging it wrongfully because I didn't watch the whole thing, but...no way. Fuck it. I don't want to see another minute. When the wind kicks up snow to create a ghostly image of a god-like penguin that all of them worship...I just don't know what to say about that. I simply can't believe they thought that was a good idea, during all the years it takes to create the film, and stuck with it the whole time. I'm flabbergasted. It's too astonishing to comprehend.
I gave up watching at the point Mumble and his "graduating class" (don't ask) go swimming, with penguins zipping around like a military air show, but underwater. Wow. The lack of character development and story progression staggers me. Actually, I managed to watch that and the following scene in which Mumble fights over a fish with several birds, who fly away with him still hanging on and then drop him on the ice...at which point they go into another song. I've got nothing against musicals in general, but, come on...they just keep singing songs I've heard on the radio for years. What's the point? How is this telling a story? What does it have to do with the life of a penguin? Nothing.
Okay. They got the idea from the truth of nature; real penguins recognize their mates and their offspring by the sounds they make, so a group of fictional anthropomorphic penguins that fall in love based on the song they sing, and the necessity of being able to sing so you can find a mate and replenish the population of your species...I get it. But if the song itself is so important...why are they singing songs from the 70's? Shouldn't they have their own song? I like that music, but I also know it doesn't belong here! And they actually play this off as if the penguins are creating their own songs! That really pissed me off. There is literally a scene with a "teacher" penguin asking her young students to sing their heart songs for her...and the two kids she calls on both sing songs we as an audience are meant to recognize. Honestly...who ever thinks this stuff is a good idea?
I'm all for animated movies that encourage both kids and adults to be themselves, believe in themselves, and be happy with who they are, but...I think that message fails when the filmmakers themselves fail to create either music or characters to be a part of their movie. They're simply grabbing things that have already been created and putting it together. It's not a movie, it's a collage. It's hideous. I weep for the world of animation, and cinema at large, when this is the type of garbage that is not only approved, but praised and enjoyed. I feel sick. I need to watch something wonderful like Little Miss Sunshine to cleanse me of this disgusting, awful mess. In the words of Elmer Fudd, "Good widdance to bad wubbish!"
Friday, November 9, 2007
Pieces of April
What's Eating Gilbert Grape is in the top five of my all-time favorite movies, and I've enjoyed the novels of screenwriter Peter Hedges as well, so when I heard a few years ago he was writing & directing a movie about a family on Thanksgiving, I knew I wanted to see it. I simply didn't get around to doing so until now. I can honestly say I'm appreciative, yet disappointed. As often happens when novelists-turned-screenwriters then become directors, his first feature occasionally loses sight of the story it's telling in favor of the ideas he wants to get across. One might think those two go hand in hand, but, not always.
Katie Holmes is really good as April, a girl in a small New York apartment trying to put together a Thanksgiving dinner for her less-than-enthusiastic family, who is driving in from New Jersey. Much of the film covers April's quest to find a neighbor willing to let her use their stove when hers fails to heat up, as well as her family's ongoing reluctance to follow through on their holiday visit as they drive to the city. I liked all of this, up to the point when they finally reach her apartment building. Appalled at the state of the neighborhood, they think they must be in the wrong place, until April's boyfriend Bobby runs up to the car and says hey, you must be April's family, I'm Bobby...what they don't know is that Bobby has spent the day finding a new suit, so he can look nice when they show up, but has just been forced to defend himself against April's previous boyfriend and four other guys...and we come to the point that really bugged me about the movie.
This white family sees a black guy in a torn suit with a bloody lip in front of this crappy apartment...and they leave. April comes down to find no one there; they've driven off. Why? I don't get it. They spent the whole trip there saying how they knew the day would be terrible, that April can't cook, and no one in this family seems to get along, but they were going to do it anyway and try to make a good memory. So why the sudden change? Why the departure? What is it about a black guy with a bloody lip and a bruised face that scares them off? Is that all it takes? I'm not saying this is in any way a racist development in the plot, but...considering how they knew things would not go well, this doesn't seem a strong enough motivation to scare them off. And I see it as the writer taking the story the way he wants it to go, when the story itself simply isn't going that way.
This is a common flaw in first features directed by writers, especially those who started as novelists and eventually became filmmakers. It's not a horrible film by any means; it's really quite enjoyable. I just hate to see a story derailed by its own author. And once the family realizes their mistake, they do turn around and go back, and make an effort, and seem to have a decent time, and the movie ends. By no means do I see this as condescending to an audience; it's nowhere near that bad. It simply doesn't feel like a natural progression to me. I think they needed something more devastating, more shocking to turn them around. They even discuss earlier how April has informed them Bobby is a good guy, so how can they simply turn around upon viewing him in that state?
I'm sorry to reveal the later moments of the film, for anyone reading this who hasn't seen it, but trust me; if you would have enjoyed it not knowing this, it won't be ruined for you. As for me, I'm hoping Peter Hedges' second feature, Dan in Real Life, now in theaters, has a better throughline to the story. I also hope I don't end up waiting four years to check it out.
Katie Holmes is really good as April, a girl in a small New York apartment trying to put together a Thanksgiving dinner for her less-than-enthusiastic family, who is driving in from New Jersey. Much of the film covers April's quest to find a neighbor willing to let her use their stove when hers fails to heat up, as well as her family's ongoing reluctance to follow through on their holiday visit as they drive to the city. I liked all of this, up to the point when they finally reach her apartment building. Appalled at the state of the neighborhood, they think they must be in the wrong place, until April's boyfriend Bobby runs up to the car and says hey, you must be April's family, I'm Bobby...what they don't know is that Bobby has spent the day finding a new suit, so he can look nice when they show up, but has just been forced to defend himself against April's previous boyfriend and four other guys...and we come to the point that really bugged me about the movie.
This white family sees a black guy in a torn suit with a bloody lip in front of this crappy apartment...and they leave. April comes down to find no one there; they've driven off. Why? I don't get it. They spent the whole trip there saying how they knew the day would be terrible, that April can't cook, and no one in this family seems to get along, but they were going to do it anyway and try to make a good memory. So why the sudden change? Why the departure? What is it about a black guy with a bloody lip and a bruised face that scares them off? Is that all it takes? I'm not saying this is in any way a racist development in the plot, but...considering how they knew things would not go well, this doesn't seem a strong enough motivation to scare them off. And I see it as the writer taking the story the way he wants it to go, when the story itself simply isn't going that way.
This is a common flaw in first features directed by writers, especially those who started as novelists and eventually became filmmakers. It's not a horrible film by any means; it's really quite enjoyable. I just hate to see a story derailed by its own author. And once the family realizes their mistake, they do turn around and go back, and make an effort, and seem to have a decent time, and the movie ends. By no means do I see this as condescending to an audience; it's nowhere near that bad. It simply doesn't feel like a natural progression to me. I think they needed something more devastating, more shocking to turn them around. They even discuss earlier how April has informed them Bobby is a good guy, so how can they simply turn around upon viewing him in that state?
I'm sorry to reveal the later moments of the film, for anyone reading this who hasn't seen it, but trust me; if you would have enjoyed it not knowing this, it won't be ruined for you. As for me, I'm hoping Peter Hedges' second feature, Dan in Real Life, now in theaters, has a better throughline to the story. I also hope I don't end up waiting four years to check it out.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Review Central
If I have any consistent readers out there, which I doubt, I apologize for my extended absence of posting. The upheaval of life, the depression of existence, the need for a new mouse compatible with an old and unsupported platform...you understand. Besides, I haven't had that much to write about. But I have been watching a lot of movies, thanks to cable & Netflix, so in the interest of maintaining phalange phlexibility, I thought I'd make an effort to post simple reviews and impressions of whatever movie I happen to set my eyes upon each day.
I would love to be able to use this blog as a means of spreading my opinion about movies newly released to theaters, but let's face it; I just don't get out much. I don't have the money or the social compatibility to join many public viewings. Besides, there's enough crap out there about new movies. Some of it is valid opinions; most of it's crap. I have valid opinions no one gives a crap about, so it all evens out! Isn't that nice?
What would be nice is to see a movie I've known about since its release but never managed to see until now, review it here, and spark some interest in an older movie that really deserves an audience...assuming I myself have any audience at all. See you tomorrow!
I would love to be able to use this blog as a means of spreading my opinion about movies newly released to theaters, but let's face it; I just don't get out much. I don't have the money or the social compatibility to join many public viewings. Besides, there's enough crap out there about new movies. Some of it is valid opinions; most of it's crap. I have valid opinions no one gives a crap about, so it all evens out! Isn't that nice?
What would be nice is to see a movie I've known about since its release but never managed to see until now, review it here, and spark some interest in an older movie that really deserves an audience...assuming I myself have any audience at all. See you tomorrow!
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