A few of popular/critically acclaimed movies of 2007 that I have no desire to see:
Atonement (I'm just really tired of films set in jolly olde England.)
The Kite Runner (ditto jolly olde Afghanistan)
Rendition/In the Valley of Elah/Lions for Lambs/A Mightly Heart (I HATE current events movies. Time lends perspective, people.)
Beowulf (I don't think I have to explain.)
Sicko (Don't even get me started on pseudo-documentary op-ed propoganda.)
Hairspray (John Travolta in drag. No thanks.)
Bee Movie (I'm afraid it will ruin Seinfeld reruns for me.)
Away From Her (The Notebook was my last Alzheimer’s movie for a while.)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Films I Missed Last Year
The list of movies I wanted to see in theaters last year but never got around to is as long as a night with teething six-month old with an ear infection (trust me on the anology).
Anyone have thoughts on which of these should be at the top of the queue?
I'm Not There (the Dylan flick)
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (the French one about the guy who blinks a book) (Phenomenal. Will get its own post sometime.)
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Casey Affleck's Oscar turn)
Eastern Promises (Russian Mob)
4 Months, 3 Weeks & Two Days (abortion in Cold War Romania - I think it's a comedy)
For Your Consideration (Chris Guest's new one) (Good, not great.)
Into the Wild (something about a guy in Alakska, right?) (I liked this one. Might wright a post on it.)
The Savages (P.S. Hoffman's 15th film of the year)
Lars and the Real Girl (the charming sex doll movie) (Superb. This one definitely deserves its own post.)
Persepolis (an Iranian cartoon - the graphic novel is superb) (Saw it.)
Talk To Me (Don Cheadle as a DJ) (Not bad. Nothing special, though.)
Any thing else I missed?
Anyone have thoughts on which of these should be at the top of the queue?
I'm Not There (the Dylan flick)
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Casey Affleck's Oscar turn)
Eastern Promises (Russian Mob)
4 Months, 3 Weeks & Two Days (abortion in Cold War Romania - I think it's a comedy)
The Savages (P.S. Hoffman's 15th film of the year)
Any thing else I missed?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
NPR Movies Podcast/Sundance
I'm hooked on the NPR "Movies" podcast. They put together a weekly compilation of all the movie related content from All Things Considered, Fresh Air, etc., and you can get it for free on iTunes. Each week there may be a couple of reviews from Bob Mundello or Ken Turan, an interview with an actor or director and a feature story or two about the film industry or the making of a new film. It's all good stuff, and you never have to listen to Diane Rehm.
This last week there were some great stories on the Sundance Film Festival, specifically on the bidding wars between distribution companies for the rights to the popular independent films. I've added Sundance to my list of things to do before I die, right between the Barrett-Jackson Auto Auction, and an English Premier League match.
This last week there were some great stories on the Sundance Film Festival, specifically on the bidding wars between distribution companies for the rights to the popular independent films. I've added Sundance to my list of things to do before I die, right between the Barrett-Jackson Auto Auction, and an English Premier League match.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
There Will Be Blood (and pain, and depression, and really good filmmaking)
[This was originally posted as a comment on Final Cut with Wilsford and Young]
I'm always looking for a film's message. I am one of those old-fashioned, pre-modernists who believe that art, in addition to providing entertainment, transmits the artist's thoughts, feelings, or worldview in a compelling and interesting way. It's not that I dislike post-modern film—I consider Pulp Fiction, the gold standard of pointless movie making, to be one of the 5-10 greatest films ever made—it's just that I always expect that the filmmaker is trying to make a point, and will assume so until the movie proves me wrong.
Like Nathan, I have struggled to comprehend this film and to find its message. Technically, it's stunning. Day-Lewis is from another planet in terms of his ability to fully inhabit his character (I heard an interview on NPR where he said it can take months for him to get out of character after filming ends). Anderson assembles a parade of wonderfully discordant visuals: obnoxious oil derricks in the bucolic California countryside; a worker cradling a infant while dumping a bucket of oil into a holding pond; the aged Plainview's indoor shooting gallery. The soundtrack ranges from eerie silence to screeching violins and pounding drums. The film, as should be expected from Anderson, overflows with dramatic technique and spell binding effects. It is truly riveting to watch.
But what's the point of all this artistic technique? Anderson's short resume of films are all somewhat off-putting and inaccessible (Magnolia, anyone?), but tend to reflect general themes of conflicted characters and awkward relationships. Those are certainly present here. I have read reviews that read this film as an indictment of big business and American greed, but I don't see it as much more than an indictment of Daniel Plainview. (The Standard Oil representative comes off like a nice guy.) Others contend that Plainview is completely evil, with no remorse or regret. I don't buy that either owing to the clear desire of Plainview to connect with his family--shown in his willingness to open up to his brother and the flashbacks to happy times with his son.
In all, Anderson seems to be more interested in making the point that some people are beyond hope. Some people are so deeply flawed that no amount of desire for love or acceptance can overcome their self-destructive nature. Anderson shows us two people, Plainview and Eli, who fit this description, and at the same time demonstrates that two of the most popular methods of finding fulfillment in life (money and religion) are no match for the depths of their flaws.It's not particularly enjoyable to spend two and a half hours in a theater to find out that some people are doomed to lives of depression and pain. Yet, the film's incredible accomplishment is that it keeps you interested and engaged in this story to the end. Only later, leaving the theater feeling exhausted and wrung out, did I wonder, "Why did I like that movie as much as I did?"
I'm always looking for a film's message. I am one of those old-fashioned, pre-modernists who believe that art, in addition to providing entertainment, transmits the artist's thoughts, feelings, or worldview in a compelling and interesting way. It's not that I dislike post-modern film—I consider Pulp Fiction, the gold standard of pointless movie making, to be one of the 5-10 greatest films ever made—it's just that I always expect that the filmmaker is trying to make a point, and will assume so until the movie proves me wrong.
Like Nathan, I have struggled to comprehend this film and to find its message. Technically, it's stunning. Day-Lewis is from another planet in terms of his ability to fully inhabit his character (I heard an interview on NPR where he said it can take months for him to get out of character after filming ends). Anderson assembles a parade of wonderfully discordant visuals: obnoxious oil derricks in the bucolic California countryside; a worker cradling a infant while dumping a bucket of oil into a holding pond; the aged Plainview's indoor shooting gallery. The soundtrack ranges from eerie silence to screeching violins and pounding drums. The film, as should be expected from Anderson, overflows with dramatic technique and spell binding effects. It is truly riveting to watch.
But what's the point of all this artistic technique? Anderson's short resume of films are all somewhat off-putting and inaccessible (Magnolia, anyone?), but tend to reflect general themes of conflicted characters and awkward relationships. Those are certainly present here. I have read reviews that read this film as an indictment of big business and American greed, but I don't see it as much more than an indictment of Daniel Plainview. (The Standard Oil representative comes off like a nice guy.) Others contend that Plainview is completely evil, with no remorse or regret. I don't buy that either owing to the clear desire of Plainview to connect with his family--shown in his willingness to open up to his brother and the flashbacks to happy times with his son.
In all, Anderson seems to be more interested in making the point that some people are beyond hope. Some people are so deeply flawed that no amount of desire for love or acceptance can overcome their self-destructive nature. Anderson shows us two people, Plainview and Eli, who fit this description, and at the same time demonstrates that two of the most popular methods of finding fulfillment in life (money and religion) are no match for the depths of their flaws.It's not particularly enjoyable to spend two and a half hours in a theater to find out that some people are doomed to lives of depression and pain. Yet, the film's incredible accomplishment is that it keeps you interested and engaged in this story to the end. Only later, leaving the theater feeling exhausted and wrung out, did I wonder, "Why did I like that movie as much as I did?"
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
A New Genre of Film? From Film Noir to Film Bleak
A friend and I were talking the other day about the general depression in many recent films. Rampant pessimism and despair emanate from movie studios and film distributors these days, which is not entirely surprising given the tone of public discourse, the war, environmental fears, etc., etc. Four of this year's five nominees for Best Picture (No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood, Atonement, and Michael Clayton), many of this year's other highly-acclaimed films (American Gangster, 3:10 to Yuma, Gone Baby Gone, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, I Am Legend), not to mention the past two Best Picture winners (Crash and The Departed) all contain, at the least, strong themes on the hopelessness of the human condition. No Country and There Will Be Blood wallow in this realization and relentlessly assault their audiences with it.
Classic film noir of the 1940s and 50s manifested the anxiety of World War II and the terror of the Nuclear Age with themes of fatalism, moral ambiguity, and paranoia. Characters fight corrupt authorities and suffer the violence of random chance. These films radiated the premise that individuals are helpless against the largely random and unforgiving machinations of the world in which they live.
It seems to me that the recent films I cited aren't concerned as much with a merciless external world, but instead focus on the darkness within us. Most often, these films show characters capable of anything, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for selfish gain, or at the extreme, for no reason at all. Characters in these films have few redeeming qualities; they lack conviction, morality, compassion, judgment, self-control.
Where noir used the shadowy nature of black and white film stock to its advantage—visually enhancing its moody themes—the modern films tend to share a different visual style. Many of the newer films adopt a spare, even bleak, visual style, whether in the sweeping desert expanses of No Country, 3:10 to Yuma, or There Will Be Blood, or the desolate urban squalor of The Departed, Gone Baby Gone, and I Am Legend. The images lack warmth, and are often totally devoid of people. At some level (most apparent in There Will Be Blood), the visual style of these films seem to depict an inward view of their characters' souls. Desolate, bare, uninhabited; scorched by sun, littered with garbage. It's not film noir, it's film bleak.
A triple feature of any of the films listed above could cause one to lose all faith in humanity. I've seen the word "nihilistic" thrown around in many of the reviews of these films, but I don't think it really fits this growing genre. Nihilism rejects morality outright, while these films implicitly accept the concept of right and wrong in portraying a world where evil overruns the human soul. These movies are pessimistic, hopeless, and distraught, but they uphold the idea that people could be better. They just aren't.
Classic film noir of the 1940s and 50s manifested the anxiety of World War II and the terror of the Nuclear Age with themes of fatalism, moral ambiguity, and paranoia. Characters fight corrupt authorities and suffer the violence of random chance. These films radiated the premise that individuals are helpless against the largely random and unforgiving machinations of the world in which they live.
It seems to me that the recent films I cited aren't concerned as much with a merciless external world, but instead focus on the darkness within us. Most often, these films show characters capable of anything, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything for selfish gain, or at the extreme, for no reason at all. Characters in these films have few redeeming qualities; they lack conviction, morality, compassion, judgment, self-control.
Where noir used the shadowy nature of black and white film stock to its advantage—visually enhancing its moody themes—the modern films tend to share a different visual style. Many of the newer films adopt a spare, even bleak, visual style, whether in the sweeping desert expanses of No Country, 3:10 to Yuma, or There Will Be Blood, or the desolate urban squalor of The Departed, Gone Baby Gone, and I Am Legend. The images lack warmth, and are often totally devoid of people. At some level (most apparent in There Will Be Blood), the visual style of these films seem to depict an inward view of their characters' souls. Desolate, bare, uninhabited; scorched by sun, littered with garbage. It's not film noir, it's film bleak.
A triple feature of any of the films listed above could cause one to lose all faith in humanity. I've seen the word "nihilistic" thrown around in many of the reviews of these films, but I don't think it really fits this growing genre. Nihilism rejects morality outright, while these films implicitly accept the concept of right and wrong in portraying a world where evil overruns the human soul. These movies are pessimistic, hopeless, and distraught, but they uphold the idea that people could be better. They just aren't.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)