I've always had mixed feelings about P.T. Anderson -- on the one hand, he has a brilliant touch as a director, and as a fan of his dad's role as "Ghoulardi" on local Cleveland television growing up, I always had a soft spot for the kid. But this film is a puzzle: its gender politics are stuck in the 1950's along with its fashion choices (at one point, Day-Lewis's Woodcock crows "Don't say the word 'chic'!"), its main characters are utterly flat, and the only interesting changes are brought about by poisonous mushrooms. No one grows, no one really steps out of themselves; trapped within Anderson's brilliantly-framed shots, they talk, argue, raise their eyebrows, and sometimes noisily crunch their toast, world without end, amen. A film must go from one place to another; someone in it must grow or experience change; we have to be somewhere different at the end than at the beginning. Here all we have is beautiful stasis -- which ultimately make this film, despite its rich artfulness, an ugly one.
Reviews
22 Reviews
Beauty and the Beast
(I) (2017)
A classic in its own right
8 June 2017
As an unabashed fan of the 1991 film, I came to this version ready for a fight -- more than one! Who dares tamper with a classic? But bit by bit, and moment by moment, I was enchanted all over again: the human performances "fleshed out" the old animated ones; the coggier Cogsworth and more limited Lumiere charmed me afresh with their differences from memory. The new songs, though surprising, fit remarkably well, and I never felt that the score missed a beat. And when all was added up, the sum was far more than any of the new and varied parts: this is a fresh masterpiece, beginning as a riff but ending with something much much more than a "cover" -- if Disney can do this as well with its other planned live-action/CGI versions, then count me in. This is a brilliantly-crafted film that honors and yet moves beyond its beloved original.
La La Land
(2016)
A sad echo of a great genre
5 January 2017
I see the universal adulation this film has had, and there's much to admire. To my ears, though, it's sadly lacking in the one key element every musical needs: great songs. With the possible exception of "Audition (The Fools Who Dream)," there's not a memorable tune or soaring line to be found. It doesn't help that neither of the two leads has a strong singing voice, and as for dancing -- the steps are limited, and even within that scope, not particularly well-executed. Dancing, in a musical, has to be over-the-top good to carry the energy of the film.
But the worst thing, really, is the lack of structure. Musicals are selective in the parts of the story that they take to build the three-act structure; the characters have to be established before we can care about them, have to face an obstacle so that we care more, and have to overcome it or die trying, at which point the big numbers come out. Here, we start with a big number -- the dance on the LA freeway -- but there's no reason for dancing as of yet. The love- not-at-first-sight motif is a good old one, but here it's so choppily presented that we're not sure whether we should care or not. It could be a slow-motion screwball comedy, or a musical revue punctuated by little life-dramas -- but to be a musical it must soar. This one is leaden, forced, and was painful for me to watch, despite much admirable production work and cinematography.
After I got home, I watched "Singin' in the Rain" as an antidote, and felt much better. It's not impossible to revive the moribund musical genre -- it was done in 1981 with Pennies from Heaven, and several times over by Baz Luhrmann, who even managed to make some of his non- professional singing stars sound pretty darn good (see Moulin Rouge). But despite all the hype, this film, to me, felt like seeing an old friend imperfectly resurrected from the grave, with none of the old lively exuberance for which -- once upon a time -- he was known the world over.
But the worst thing, really, is the lack of structure. Musicals are selective in the parts of the story that they take to build the three-act structure; the characters have to be established before we can care about them, have to face an obstacle so that we care more, and have to overcome it or die trying, at which point the big numbers come out. Here, we start with a big number -- the dance on the LA freeway -- but there's no reason for dancing as of yet. The love- not-at-first-sight motif is a good old one, but here it's so choppily presented that we're not sure whether we should care or not. It could be a slow-motion screwball comedy, or a musical revue punctuated by little life-dramas -- but to be a musical it must soar. This one is leaden, forced, and was painful for me to watch, despite much admirable production work and cinematography.
After I got home, I watched "Singin' in the Rain" as an antidote, and felt much better. It's not impossible to revive the moribund musical genre -- it was done in 1981 with Pennies from Heaven, and several times over by Baz Luhrmann, who even managed to make some of his non- professional singing stars sound pretty darn good (see Moulin Rouge). But despite all the hype, this film, to me, felt like seeing an old friend imperfectly resurrected from the grave, with none of the old lively exuberance for which -- once upon a time -- he was known the world over.
Chi-Raq
(2015)
Satire, folks, satire ...
5 December 2015
The enormous number of low ratings here -- without a review -- is troubling. Who's afraid of Spike Lee? He's been a provocateur from day one, and when I see one of his films, I'm reminded of Faulkner's saying that all great novels are shipwrecks. All Spike Lee joints fail too, but they fail in a fabulous, provoking, brilliant manner that no other films by a living person seem to manage. Let's go back to Spike's equally brilliant and offending film Bamboozled, and the opening words, in a V/O:
"Satire. A literary work in which human vice or folly is ridiculed or attacked scornfully. B. The branch of literature that composes such work. 2. Irony, derision or caustic wit used to attack or expose folly, vice or stupidity."
And that's what Spike does, at his best. And this is one of his very best: a scatter-shot, no-holds- barred, old school Greek comedy, with Jackson's "Dolmetes" as its one-man chorus -- in short, a provoking work for our times.
"Satire. A literary work in which human vice or folly is ridiculed or attacked scornfully. B. The branch of literature that composes such work. 2. Irony, derision or caustic wit used to attack or expose folly, vice or stupidity."
And that's what Spike does, at his best. And this is one of his very best: a scatter-shot, no-holds- barred, old school Greek comedy, with Jackson's "Dolmetes" as its one-man chorus -- in short, a provoking work for our times.
Crimson Peak
(2015)
A disappointed fan of Del Toro
4 November 2015
I've seen every single films Guillermo del Toro has ever made, even his first student film (hidden away in the special features of the Cronos DVD). All his films have been sophisticated, deeply creepy, and always original -- until this one. It's still visually stunning, with all kinds of gorgeous horror eye- candy, from the red snow to the smoky ghosts to the absinthe-green walls. But even Del Toro's genius can't overcome a leaden script, completely predictable plot, and pedestrian performances. Oh, the cast can act just fine -- but they've brought manners of Masterpiece Theatre to a scenario that makes TV's old Dark Shadows seem like highbrow television. It might have been better as a sort of horror comedy -- but it takes itself far too seriously throughout. Fortunately I got a free ticket, so I can't complain and ask for a refund -- but I don't think I'll automatically rush out to see Del Toro's next film
Nothing Lasts Forever
(1984)
An extraordinary film, neglected
14 July 2014
Since a version of this film was "leaked" - if that's the right term -- to YouTube a few days ago, it's had a second life worthy of the film's own protagonist, liberated from a job yelling at bad drivers in the Holland Tunnel to a bravura performance at Carnegie Hall. There have been many evocative or pastiche films of the classic era -- Woody Allen's Purple Rose of Cairo, Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge, or Gary Ross's Pleasantville -- but none has more vividly, sweetly, and yet ironically invoked the magic of the movies as has this film. Don't be distracted by the Dan Ackroyd or Bill Murray cameos (fun as they are): keep your eye on the veterans, who've been in more films than you can count, and who bring their considerable powers to bear here: Sam Jaffe (The Day the Earth Stood Still, Bedknobs and Broomsticks); Paul Rogers (Billy Budd, The Homecoming) and the incomparable Imogene Coca, all part of a secret underground league of New York artists who seek to aid any who will give their all, unreservedly, to the cause of art. This film deserves an immediate DVD/BluRay release -- one can only imagine how richly it will shine -- and shame on MGM, Turner, Warner, and all who have kept this gem in their dark, dim, Gollum-like cavern of oblivion.
All Is Lost
(2013)
A modern Crusoe
29 October 2013
Many have already offered their views on this craggy Redford sailfest -- so I'm not sure how much what I have to say will sway their judgment -- but here goes.
What was it that actors did before they could speak? Did they, pace Hamlet, "saw the air too much with their hands"? Yes, but here, with fewer words than any "talkie" since 1927, Redford speaks with hands, eyes, and shoulders, and heart. Was there ever a man who did more with only one word of dialog, and that a word guaranteed to bump up the film's MPAA rating? We have looked upon, and loved Redford's face; now let us look upon his hands and works. Winching himself up the mast, patching a hole with resin and fiberglass, aiming a belated sextant at the sun -- here is a man, a human, in his inmost essence, striving to find his way on our planet of mostly water. There has been no better, no more economical, no more moving performance this year, or any other.
What was it that actors did before they could speak? Did they, pace Hamlet, "saw the air too much with their hands"? Yes, but here, with fewer words than any "talkie" since 1927, Redford speaks with hands, eyes, and shoulders, and heart. Was there ever a man who did more with only one word of dialog, and that a word guaranteed to bump up the film's MPAA rating? We have looked upon, and loved Redford's face; now let us look upon his hands and works. Winching himself up the mast, patching a hole with resin and fiberglass, aiming a belated sextant at the sun -- here is a man, a human, in his inmost essence, striving to find his way on our planet of mostly water. There has been no better, no more economical, no more moving performance this year, or any other.
49th Parallel
(1941)
Extraordinary achievement
21 May 2010
Yes, it is (was) propaganda. But never has there been a more curiously right and true epitome of the sloppy yet resilient defense of transcontinental democracy than this. Canada wins because Canada is a mess; the Nazi neatness and demand for clear-cut lines falters, and in the end is clobbered with a roundhouse right. So long as I live, I will love this film; it's P&P at their best, and the Vaughan WIlliams score is second to none. What else can one say? I wish I were Canadian.
And since the IMDb, to which I contributed long before it became such a commercial concern, insists that I have at least 10 lines of text, I will keep on jabbering for a few more lines, in order to preserve the above comments for posteriority ...
And since the IMDb, to which I contributed long before it became such a commercial concern, insists that I have at least 10 lines of text, I will keep on jabbering for a few more lines, in order to preserve the above comments for posteriority ...
Sherlock Holmes
(2009)
Unrelated to the detective of the same name
25 December 2009
I love Robert Downey Jr., and he's funny and engaging as always in the role he takes on in this film. Unfortunately, his character, though named after the "Sherlock Homes" invented by Arthur Conan Doyle, has almost nothing in common with his literary ancestor. This film's "Holmes" is a hyper-kinetic pugilist who excels at swinging numchuks, swan-diving into the Thames from second-story windows, and leaping about city buildings in a manner reminiscent of the Assassin's Creed video game franchise. For that matter, the hyper-real Victorian London of the film's exterior shots has a very similar computer-generated feel to it, one amplified when it vividly depicts the Tower of London on the wrong side of the Thames, among other gaffes.
There is none of the cerebral intensity, none of the subdued emotion, essential to Holmes as a character. A pipe appears precisely three times, and a cigar if proffered but unsmoked. Jude Law's Watson shows little affection for or understanding of this nouveau Holmes, and their little bits of stage business evoke nothing of the vital feeling between them.
That said, if a steam-punk action-adventure film that's built around three or four elaborate chase sequences appeals, this film may be a fun way to spent an afternoon -- it's certainly a decent "popcorn" flick. But anyone who knows anything about, or cares very much for, Conan Doyle's immortal character would be better off staying home and popping a few Jeremy Bretty DVD's into their player.
There is none of the cerebral intensity, none of the subdued emotion, essential to Holmes as a character. A pipe appears precisely three times, and a cigar if proffered but unsmoked. Jude Law's Watson shows little affection for or understanding of this nouveau Holmes, and their little bits of stage business evoke nothing of the vital feeling between them.
That said, if a steam-punk action-adventure film that's built around three or four elaborate chase sequences appeals, this film may be a fun way to spent an afternoon -- it's certainly a decent "popcorn" flick. But anyone who knows anything about, or cares very much for, Conan Doyle's immortal character would be better off staying home and popping a few Jeremy Bretty DVD's into their player.
The Savage Innocents
(1960)
Highly inaccurate film
24 August 2009
This film is not without its merits. The second unit shot some really quite beautiful location footage in the Arctic, and the cinematography throughout is impressive. Anthony Quinn brings tremendous verve to the role, and there are several memorable turns by the supporting cast, particularly Peter O'Toole.
But it's depressing to see how many people regard this as an accurate portrayal of Inuit culture. One hardly knows where to begin! The Inuit customs regarding "wife-sharing" are distorted (the idea that it would be a terrible insult not to accept such an offer is groundless), and the use of "laughter" as a euphemism for sex is merely an old Hollywood notion. Inuit mothers are not left until their mother's death to be told of common matters such as the importance of cutting a child's umbilical cord, and a grandmother, however infirm, would never be left out in the open to be eaten by a polar bear (a special igloo would instead be prepared, with important personal items, and then sealed up, after which the village would be moved). Most insulting of all is the notion that somehow Inuit would be unaware that babies are born without visible teeth!
The inaccuracies are not merely cultural, but historical as well. There is simply no period of time when the Inuit (or other Arctic groups such as the Inighuit, Inupiat, or Yupik) would have been unfamiliar with firearms and yet exposed to 1960s-style rock music -- these events are anywhere from 75 to 100 years apart, depending on the region. Inuit who went to trading posts would never be mocked by other Inuit, or by traders, at a trading post -- trading was serious business -- and would never be sold a gun with zero ammunition. This is not to say that traders were always totally fair; the guns were often of inferior quality, and the addiction to a source of powder and shot, along with the switch to fur-bearing animals as a sort of cash crop, were indeed problems.
The saddest thing of all is that, 27 years before "Savage Innocents," a far more accurate account of the disparities, tensions, and injustices between Inuit and traders and police was released by a major Hollywood studio -- this was 1933's "Eskimo," starring Ray Mala, a half- Inupiat Alaskan actor.
Having nearly no Inuit in the cast at all is, despite comments to the contrary, a problem as well. Hollywood had cast Inuit as Inuit as early as 1911, and "Eskimo" enjoyed an almost all- Inuit cast. The fact that all of the principal photography was done on a sound stage decorated by people with no knowledge whatever of either Inuit or northern homes is a further issue.
There's no question that "Savage Innocents" works hard to elicit sympathy with an "alien" culture -- the only problem is that this culture is almost entirely a fantasy.
But it's depressing to see how many people regard this as an accurate portrayal of Inuit culture. One hardly knows where to begin! The Inuit customs regarding "wife-sharing" are distorted (the idea that it would be a terrible insult not to accept such an offer is groundless), and the use of "laughter" as a euphemism for sex is merely an old Hollywood notion. Inuit mothers are not left until their mother's death to be told of common matters such as the importance of cutting a child's umbilical cord, and a grandmother, however infirm, would never be left out in the open to be eaten by a polar bear (a special igloo would instead be prepared, with important personal items, and then sealed up, after which the village would be moved). Most insulting of all is the notion that somehow Inuit would be unaware that babies are born without visible teeth!
The inaccuracies are not merely cultural, but historical as well. There is simply no period of time when the Inuit (or other Arctic groups such as the Inighuit, Inupiat, or Yupik) would have been unfamiliar with firearms and yet exposed to 1960s-style rock music -- these events are anywhere from 75 to 100 years apart, depending on the region. Inuit who went to trading posts would never be mocked by other Inuit, or by traders, at a trading post -- trading was serious business -- and would never be sold a gun with zero ammunition. This is not to say that traders were always totally fair; the guns were often of inferior quality, and the addiction to a source of powder and shot, along with the switch to fur-bearing animals as a sort of cash crop, were indeed problems.
The saddest thing of all is that, 27 years before "Savage Innocents," a far more accurate account of the disparities, tensions, and injustices between Inuit and traders and police was released by a major Hollywood studio -- this was 1933's "Eskimo," starring Ray Mala, a half- Inupiat Alaskan actor.
Having nearly no Inuit in the cast at all is, despite comments to the contrary, a problem as well. Hollywood had cast Inuit as Inuit as early as 1911, and "Eskimo" enjoyed an almost all- Inuit cast. The fact that all of the principal photography was done on a sound stage decorated by people with no knowledge whatever of either Inuit or northern homes is a further issue.
There's no question that "Savage Innocents" works hard to elicit sympathy with an "alien" culture -- the only problem is that this culture is almost entirely a fantasy.
Moll Flanders
(1996)
Moll who?
22 September 2008
The plot of this film has nearly nothing whatsoever to do with Daniel Defoe's novel; in place of Defoe's brilliant and compelling heroine it substitutes bushels full of ersatz-18th century drivel, pretentious neo-Irish music, and annoying children. Nunneries in England? An unexplained Afro-British man sent on a mission to read a book to an annoying child across the sea? A charitable organization which adopts adult women only if they are virgins? I am certain that if one made a film of "A Christmas Carol" with no Scrooge, no Tiny Tim, and Bob Cratchit as an alcoholic schoolmaster with an illegitimate one-legged daughter living in Sweden, viewers would complain that the story had gone missing -- why not here? It's a shame, as Morgan Freeman gives a memorable performance even in a role which seems dislocated from history, novelistic and actual.
Abandoned in the Arctic
(2007)
A brilliant film of a tragic expedition
12 October 2007
This is one of the best Arctic documentaries of the past ten years -- a vivid, beautifully photographed story, told through both re-enactment and re-tracing, of the ill-fated Lady Franklin Bay expedition led by Adolphus Washington Greely. Rarely have the stark beauties of Ellesmere Island been so strikingly filmed, and yet it is the human drama that holds the center of attention here. Greely, his conflicted first officer, and his resentful but ultimately faithful sergeant, carry the narrative forward with the weight of a Shakespearian tragedy. And, at the same time, Greeley's descendant James Shedd, re-traces his great-grandfather's sledge-tracks in the long, perilous retreat from Fort Conger, whence Greely once set the record for furthest north. The conclusion will bring tears to the eyes of even the most hardened of armchair travelers.
Tideland
(2005)
Curiouser and curiouser ...
3 March 2007
As a very longtime Gilliam fan (I saw Time Bandits from the front row of a theatre in Portland, Oregon, five nights in a row when it first came out, and have watched every one of his films hundreds of times), I was enormously frustrated by the delays in this film getting distribution, and the fact that, even when it "opened," it wasn't showing anywhere within a hundred miles of my location. I waited for the DVD, and I'm glad I did; I'm not sure I could have appreciated this film in one sitting. As some have said, I too might have headed for the exit, not because I was upset *with* the film, but upset *by* it, in a good way. Watching it over four nights was far better, with pauses for my unconscious mind to digest its disturbing yet beautiful trajectories.
I think that people today expect a sort of social contract with films -- the films will stay films, will entertain but never challenge, you will feel you have your popcorn's worth, yawn, and go home (stopping on the way to get a happy meal with a film tie-in toy). Gilliam has never signed such a contract, and here he even tears up the older understanding his viewers had, that whatever Baron Munchausen or Parry might do, it would have no sexual overtones, and would never really endanger the Sally Salts of the world. Here Gilliam allows these darker currents to flow freely, and the result threatens at several points to overwhelm the viewer with the thought "if he's gone this far, how much farther will he go next?"
On the other hand, all our master storytellers have been, as Gilliam notes, rather grim; consider in this case Mrs. Haversham's wedding cake in Great Expectations (is that why the boy here is named Dickens, perhaps?) or Faulkner's A Rose for Emily. Their dark side is essential to what makes them tick, and essential to our being enthralled. It is just that much harder to *see* such things as to *read* about them -- but amazingly, despite the darkest moments of this film, my overall feeling on having completed viewing it is one of suspended, strange, light, of airiness, of floating above those endless Saskatchewan fields of wheat.
I know I will watch this film again -- and I hope that people who may have heard poor reviews of it will ignore them, and see it anyway. It's a rich, mature work from one of our masters, and I hope that it will recover from the knee-jerk revulsion of some reviewers, and that said reviewers will be as embarrassed by their comments years hence as (for example) those who attached Michael Powell's Peeping Tom for similar reasons.
I think that people today expect a sort of social contract with films -- the films will stay films, will entertain but never challenge, you will feel you have your popcorn's worth, yawn, and go home (stopping on the way to get a happy meal with a film tie-in toy). Gilliam has never signed such a contract, and here he even tears up the older understanding his viewers had, that whatever Baron Munchausen or Parry might do, it would have no sexual overtones, and would never really endanger the Sally Salts of the world. Here Gilliam allows these darker currents to flow freely, and the result threatens at several points to overwhelm the viewer with the thought "if he's gone this far, how much farther will he go next?"
On the other hand, all our master storytellers have been, as Gilliam notes, rather grim; consider in this case Mrs. Haversham's wedding cake in Great Expectations (is that why the boy here is named Dickens, perhaps?) or Faulkner's A Rose for Emily. Their dark side is essential to what makes them tick, and essential to our being enthralled. It is just that much harder to *see* such things as to *read* about them -- but amazingly, despite the darkest moments of this film, my overall feeling on having completed viewing it is one of suspended, strange, light, of airiness, of floating above those endless Saskatchewan fields of wheat.
I know I will watch this film again -- and I hope that people who may have heard poor reviews of it will ignore them, and see it anyway. It's a rich, mature work from one of our masters, and I hope that it will recover from the knee-jerk revulsion of some reviewers, and that said reviewers will be as embarrassed by their comments years hence as (for example) those who attached Michael Powell's Peeping Tom for similar reasons.
Gone to Earth
(1950)
Not one of Powell and Pressburger's best
21 January 2007
I am an enormous admirer of Powell and Pressburger, but this Technicolor melodrama was a great disappointment to me once I had tracked down, with some effort, a Korean DVD. I think the problem is that the main character is simply not very bright - I miss the intelligent , spirited women of I Know Where I'm Going, Black Narcissus, Contraband, and A Canterbury Tale. Here, the character who ought to be carrying the story is reduced to almost animalistic status, a prey in a world of hunters, well-intentioned and not so well intentioned. Nevertheless, the cinematography is stunning as ever, and the choir, and the harp playing, are divine indeed -- as always with P&P, there are gems even in this murky, overheated yarn of country parson versus country squire.
It's a mercy that Roald Dahl never lived to see this piece of dreck
15 July 2005
Warning: Spoilers
What a sad occasion. I should say at the start that Johnny Depp is one of my favorite actors of all time, and that -- until his last three films -- Tim Burton was one of my two favorite directors (the other being Terry Gilliam).
I'm sure Depp will go on to make many more superb films -- but I have no desire to ever see another Tim Burton film again. This film is not only untrue to the book, most monstrously so in its ending (which I can hardly bring myself to describe) but really throughout the film in its cheap, unimaginative, eye-candy.
Depp, apparently channeling a frightening mixture of Pee Wee Herman and Anthony Perkins (thus perhaps the gratuitous "Psycho" reference in the film?), is neither charming nor surprising; he lacks the sly warmth of Gene Wilder, who to my mind will *always* be the real Willy Wonka. His factory, resembling the assembly lines of "Edward Scissorhands," but on steroids, is a vast, impersonal cavern, without a single ring of emotional truth. Sure, all the kids but Charlie are brats -- but here, Willie Wonka is one too, and though Charlie may be a good boy, he gets very few speaking lines, and he and Grandpa Joe have as few occasions for fun as do we, the viewers.
During production, Burton talked about how he disliked the older version, and seemed to promise a darker version truer to Dahl's witty disdain for the the adult world. But here, everyone -- child, adult, and elderly person is insulted with visions whose "darkness" is not a product of melancholy, but of cynicism. There is no goodness here, no meaningful badness either. The first flashback to Wonka's dentist father (Chrisopher Lee, wonderful as ever) is a lovely touch, but the ending of the film, which demands that little Charlie somehow "heal" the wounded psyche of Wonka and re-unite him with his dentist dad, is the worst piece of poisoned treacle ever to leave a factory.
The whole thing ought to be flushed down a garbage chute -- it's a bad nut.
I'm sure Depp will go on to make many more superb films -- but I have no desire to ever see another Tim Burton film again. This film is not only untrue to the book, most monstrously so in its ending (which I can hardly bring myself to describe) but really throughout the film in its cheap, unimaginative, eye-candy.
Depp, apparently channeling a frightening mixture of Pee Wee Herman and Anthony Perkins (thus perhaps the gratuitous "Psycho" reference in the film?), is neither charming nor surprising; he lacks the sly warmth of Gene Wilder, who to my mind will *always* be the real Willy Wonka. His factory, resembling the assembly lines of "Edward Scissorhands," but on steroids, is a vast, impersonal cavern, without a single ring of emotional truth. Sure, all the kids but Charlie are brats -- but here, Willie Wonka is one too, and though Charlie may be a good boy, he gets very few speaking lines, and he and Grandpa Joe have as few occasions for fun as do we, the viewers.
During production, Burton talked about how he disliked the older version, and seemed to promise a darker version truer to Dahl's witty disdain for the the adult world. But here, everyone -- child, adult, and elderly person is insulted with visions whose "darkness" is not a product of melancholy, but of cynicism. There is no goodness here, no meaningful badness either. The first flashback to Wonka's dentist father (Chrisopher Lee, wonderful as ever) is a lovely touch, but the ending of the film, which demands that little Charlie somehow "heal" the wounded psyche of Wonka and re-unite him with his dentist dad, is the worst piece of poisoned treacle ever to leave a factory.
The whole thing ought to be flushed down a garbage chute -- it's a bad nut.
The Search for the Northwest Passage
(2005 TV Movie)
Top-notch dramatic segments
9 April 2005
I should, in all fairness, disclose at the first that I appear in this broadcast as an on-camera historian, so I'm sure I'm probably a bit biased in its favor. My comment is limited to the dramatic segments, with which I had nothing to do, and only saw when the program was broadcast.
I really do feel that the dramatic segments are absolutely top-notch. As someone who spent many years imagining the Franklin expedition, I think that the casting was just splendid. Anthony Garner is the perfect personification of Sir John Franklin, and Maureen Bennett does a lovely turn as Lady Franklin. Bo Poraj is spot on as a slightly dour, slightly haunted Francis Crozier, and Thom Fell captures the exuberance, and later despair, of James Fitzjames wonderfully. They all inhabit their roles as though they were born to them, something the more remarkable given that there were only a few days of shooting.
The cinematography by Harald Paalgard is truly superb, and it was a real honor to be able to watch him at work, and see the results -- all the Arctic scenes were shot on 16mm rather than digital, and the beauty of those stark regions comes across most dramatically, particularly in the long shots and aerial views.
I really do feel that the dramatic segments are absolutely top-notch. As someone who spent many years imagining the Franklin expedition, I think that the casting was just splendid. Anthony Garner is the perfect personification of Sir John Franklin, and Maureen Bennett does a lovely turn as Lady Franklin. Bo Poraj is spot on as a slightly dour, slightly haunted Francis Crozier, and Thom Fell captures the exuberance, and later despair, of James Fitzjames wonderfully. They all inhabit their roles as though they were born to them, something the more remarkable given that there were only a few days of shooting.
The cinematography by Harald Paalgard is truly superb, and it was a real honor to be able to watch him at work, and see the results -- all the Arctic scenes were shot on 16mm rather than digital, and the beauty of those stark regions comes across most dramatically, particularly in the long shots and aerial views.
The Alamo
(2004)
Far better than I'd feared
9 April 2004
After all the negative press, I went to this film with very low expectations -- but I came away a fan. The panoramic sweep of this film is powerful and subtle, and its ensemble cast is as smooth as the whiskey Sam Houston downs in a single gulp in an early scene.
Billy Bob Thornton steals the show as Crockett, adding both comic moments and a richly somber humility. The period details are very accurate, and the dialogue, unlike that in many period films, actually emulates the locution and rhythm of the nineteenth century quite aptly. It may not be the greatest epic war movie I've seen lately -- but it's good enough to hold its own, and I'm certain I'll want to see it again.
Billy Bob Thornton steals the show as Crockett, adding both comic moments and a richly somber humility. The period details are very accurate, and the dialogue, unlike that in many period films, actually emulates the locution and rhythm of the nineteenth century quite aptly. It may not be the greatest epic war movie I've seen lately -- but it's good enough to hold its own, and I'm certain I'll want to see it again.
The Emperor's New Clothes
(2001)
Magnifique!
8 October 2002
This gem of a film deserved a far wider release than it got --
shame on Paramount for not daring to place this gem in theatres.
In a year where "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" occupied some small
theatres for months, I had to wait until October to see "The
Emperor's New Clothes," a far better movie and not at all limited to
art-house appeal, as the studio seemed to think.
Sir Ian Holm is brilliant, affecting, and engaging in his third turn as
the diminutive Emperor, and relative newcomer Iben Hjejle is a
perfect foil as the sweet yet tough-skinned "Pumpkin." But what
makes this film is not so much its wonderful cast and perfect
period settings, it's the visual magic of Alan Taylor, who opens and
closes the film with the candlelit wonder of an antique Magic
Lantern. In that nineteenth-century version of visual narrative, great
men rose from humble origins to "GLOIRE" in a few hand-painted
frames -- only, as Holm's Napoleon insists, "that's not how it
ended." It would be a crime to reveal how this film ends, but it's
how it unfolds which makes it shine -- what, after all, is an
Emperor? Is he a suit of clothes? An attitude? A pose? Holm's
double role as the emperor's doppelganger shines a new, comic,
yet serious light into this more than twice-told tale.
shame on Paramount for not daring to place this gem in theatres.
In a year where "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" occupied some small
theatres for months, I had to wait until October to see "The
Emperor's New Clothes," a far better movie and not at all limited to
art-house appeal, as the studio seemed to think.
Sir Ian Holm is brilliant, affecting, and engaging in his third turn as
the diminutive Emperor, and relative newcomer Iben Hjejle is a
perfect foil as the sweet yet tough-skinned "Pumpkin." But what
makes this film is not so much its wonderful cast and perfect
period settings, it's the visual magic of Alan Taylor, who opens and
closes the film with the candlelit wonder of an antique Magic
Lantern. In that nineteenth-century version of visual narrative, great
men rose from humble origins to "GLOIRE" in a few hand-painted
frames -- only, as Holm's Napoleon insists, "that's not how it
ended." It would be a crime to reveal how this film ends, but it's
how it unfolds which makes it shine -- what, after all, is an
Emperor? Is he a suit of clothes? An attitude? A pose? Holm's
double role as the emperor's doppelganger shines a new, comic,
yet serious light into this more than twice-told tale.
The Count of Monte Cristo
(2002)
The best Dumas of recent years ...
10 September 2002
Warning: Spoilers
Alexandre Dumas might well be rolling in his grave. His Three
Musketeers have been mangled anew in any number of recent
films. The best of the worst -- Randall Wallace's Man in the Iron
Mask -- did its best to out-Dumas Dumas, even making D'Artangnan the father of both the future king of France and his evil
twin (no doubt if Dumas's staff of ghost writers had thunk of this
one, they'd have grabbed it!).
What does it take to make drama of melodrama here in the 21st
century? Well, oddly enough, it takes Kevin Reynolds, whose
reprehensible Robin Hood seemed to have been his curtain call.
Surprisingly, though, he proves as durable as Edmund Dantes,
emerging from his own private prison to produce a film which
takes up all the themes he so tediously misdirected those many
years ago.
Here we have character actors, character-driven story in the midst
of all plot entanglements, and Guy Pearce as a villain with tellingly
bad teeth. James Caviezel hits just the right nuances as a man
suddenly abducted from the very moment of his success, and
imprisoned in a remote fortress where the only way to tell the time
is by how many lashings you've had. Richard Harris is his
wonderful hermity best as the fellow prisoner who gives Dantes
back at least *some* of his faith, and once he's out, it doesn't take
him long to re-invent himself as the Count (the fast cuts here are
perhaps the film's only flaws).
His return is marvelously managed, complete with balloons and
fireworks, and revenge is sweet -- up to a point. His great lost
love, admirably portrayed by the relative newcomer Dagmara
Dominczyk, reminds him of himself before it is too late ... to say
any more would be to make this review a spoiler.
Other highlights include a delightful cameo by Freddie Jones,
whom many will remember at the Elephant Man's callous keeper
in David Lynch's film.
To be faithful, sometimes, one must be untrue -- never more
evident than in this film, which beautifully transmutes narrative
delight into narrative delight, still available a century and a half after
Dumas's own pots boiled it.
Musketeers have been mangled anew in any number of recent
films. The best of the worst -- Randall Wallace's Man in the Iron
Mask -- did its best to out-Dumas Dumas, even making D'Artangnan the father of both the future king of France and his evil
twin (no doubt if Dumas's staff of ghost writers had thunk of this
one, they'd have grabbed it!).
What does it take to make drama of melodrama here in the 21st
century? Well, oddly enough, it takes Kevin Reynolds, whose
reprehensible Robin Hood seemed to have been his curtain call.
Surprisingly, though, he proves as durable as Edmund Dantes,
emerging from his own private prison to produce a film which
takes up all the themes he so tediously misdirected those many
years ago.
Here we have character actors, character-driven story in the midst
of all plot entanglements, and Guy Pearce as a villain with tellingly
bad teeth. James Caviezel hits just the right nuances as a man
suddenly abducted from the very moment of his success, and
imprisoned in a remote fortress where the only way to tell the time
is by how many lashings you've had. Richard Harris is his
wonderful hermity best as the fellow prisoner who gives Dantes
back at least *some* of his faith, and once he's out, it doesn't take
him long to re-invent himself as the Count (the fast cuts here are
perhaps the film's only flaws).
His return is marvelously managed, complete with balloons and
fireworks, and revenge is sweet -- up to a point. His great lost
love, admirably portrayed by the relative newcomer Dagmara
Dominczyk, reminds him of himself before it is too late ... to say
any more would be to make this review a spoiler.
Other highlights include a delightful cameo by Freddie Jones,
whom many will remember at the Elephant Man's callous keeper
in David Lynch's film.
To be faithful, sometimes, one must be untrue -- never more
evident than in this film, which beautifully transmutes narrative
delight into narrative delight, still available a century and a half after
Dumas's own pots boiled it.
Robin Hood
(1991)
The best modern Robin Hood out there.
21 August 2002
Everyone knows that Costner's Hood was a bomb, but too few people have seen this superior version, shown on TV and then perversely released only on VHS by Fox. Patrick Bergin is spot-on as a darkly-mooded Robin, and the backstory on his loss of rank and property is both historically plausible and dramatically effective -- a welcome change from other film versions. The tensions between native Saxon and invading Norman are also accurately portrayed, as exemplifed by Robin's vexed friendship with the new Norman landlord (a great performance by Jürgen Prochnow). The supporting case is excellent, particularly Uma Thurman as a liberated Maid Marian -- handy with a broadsword -- and Jeff Nuttall as the best Friar Tuck I've ever seen. The way in which Tuck gives a benediction to one of the Normans even as his calmly breaks his neck has to be seen to be believed. If there is any justice for Robin Hood in the 21st century, Fox ought to bring this version out on DVD. Its moody colorations, dank forests, and dour yet Merry Men would surely shine through.
Picture of Light
(1994)
A beautiful, uncanny picture
30 July 2001
This film is a strange, crystalline artifact, part cinema verité and part unabashed paean to the heavens. The earlier part of the film is almost a comedy of errors, as the film crew films itself on the train to Churchill, Manitoba, and ends up stuck in one of the town's few hotels during a blizzard. For fun, the hotel's owners shoots a hole in the wall with a high-power rifle, and they watch the snowflakes blow through the hole. But once the weather clears and the crew actually gets out to film their announced subject, the northern lights have never shimmered so brightly, in an ethereal silence never to be seen on a National Geographic special.
I saw this film at a conference in North Bay, Ontario -- and got the sense that it isn't seen much in the U.S. Too bad! It would be an excellent candidate for a widescreeen DVD release.
I saw this film at a conference in North Bay, Ontario -- and got the sense that it isn't seen much in the U.S. Too bad! It would be an excellent candidate for a widescreeen DVD release.
Planet of the Apes
(2001)
Tim Burton does not disappoint
27 July 2001
After reading some of the early reviews of this film, I was beginning to worry that Tim Burton had finally become just another cog in the mind-numbing machinery of the SFX-laden film industry. It was a huge relief to discover that Burton's *Apes* -- easily the most entertaining film so far this summer -- is perhaps his most visually and dramatically gripping film ever. This is despite Mark Wahlberg's woodenly resolute performance, which displays about as much screen charisma as an orangutan's hairbrush. The apes, however, in their far more pliant makeup, steal the show.
Paul Giamatti absolutely steals the film as the conniving human-trader "Limbo," and Tim Roth's General Thade is robustly animalistic. The apes' habit of leaping in the air in displays of anger owes something to Jane Goodall and something to Hong Kong action flicks -- but wherever it comes from, it adds an extra zest to the simian world.
While it doesn't reach the darkly sublime heights of Batman or Edward Scissorhands, *Apes* is Burton's best in some time, and easily steals the show from the series of stumbling (and expensive) zombies the studios have vomited forth so far this summer.
Paul Giamatti absolutely steals the film as the conniving human-trader "Limbo," and Tim Roth's General Thade is robustly animalistic. The apes' habit of leaping in the air in displays of anger owes something to Jane Goodall and something to Hong Kong action flicks -- but wherever it comes from, it adds an extra zest to the simian world.
While it doesn't reach the darkly sublime heights of Batman or Edward Scissorhands, *Apes* is Burton's best in some time, and easily steals the show from the series of stumbling (and expensive) zombies the studios have vomited forth so far this summer.
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