November 2008, Part II: 15 Mini Reviews
November 27, 2008
The last fifteen films I've seen.
Futurama: Bender's Game ('08): The third of four 90 minute direct-to-DVD movies of Matt Groening's great sci-fi animated comedy, this time using a “Dungeons and Dragons” framing devise to spoof fantasy films, and by extension, role-playing games. Fearing that he has no imagination when local kids make fun of him for not knowing 'D&D', Bender OD's on the game and winds up in the insane asylum, while simultaneously, the Planet Express crew search for a crystal that will destroy Mom's oil empire; when the two plot-lines converge, in a quintessential “Futurama” dose of metaphysics and improbability, the entire plot plays out again in a fantasy land very similar to Middle Earth. Personally, I think this is the best of the three movies so far, one, because it plays with themes and similarities to one of my favorite episodes, “Insane in the Mainframe”, featuring the hilarious crazy robot Roberto, two, because we get a heavy dose of Mom and her Three Stooges-esque sons, always the series' best villains, and three, because the fantasy film satire is inspired, debunking the frivolous war and extensive murder in such films, especially the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy. I can't wait for the fourth DVD to come out next year, and hope that Fox green-lights more for the future; the show may not be season four masterful anymore, but it's still producing top notch fantasy and sci-fi comedy, which is a rarity these days.
Le Samourai ('67): Alain Delon gives one of his best performances as hitman Jef Costello, who is hired to kill a nightclub owner and then double-crossed by his handlers at the payoff, in Jean-Pierre Melville's classic drama of deception, honor, and fate. Melville's direction is at its most meticulous here, staging long sequences – the murder, the police roundup of suspects, Jef constructing an alibi, the botched payoff, the police chase through the underground Metro, the brilliant, existential finale – that suggest the perfectionism and loneliness of Costello's profession and attitude, remaining calm and isolated as the cops, and his enemies, slowly tighten their noose. Delon's steel eyes and precision movements never bely Jef's increasingly dire situation, given the title, this is a man who lives with the expectation that death is always around the corner, and Melville, treating this doomed anti-hero with all the icy love reserved for previous hoods Lino Ventura, Serge Regiani, and Jean-Paul Belmondo, crafts an iconic, metallic mise-en-scene that perfectly complements the heavy overtones of the character's (and plot's) psychological make-up.
Band of Outsiders ('64): Jean-Luc Godard returns to the crime genre, if only in spirit, five years after “Breathless”, for this radical menage of rambling referencing and cinematic improvisation. The plot, as such as there is one, concerns two young thieves who persuade a lovely classmate (Anna Karina) to rip off her wealthy aunt, but in the time it takes to formulate the job (the money presides in an unguarded, unlocked chest in a bedroom), the trio drive around Paris talking nonsense, dancing in cafes, and running through the Louvre in record time. The latter two have become quite famous, especially the cafe dance sequence, which Godard leaves unedited, but interrupts periodically with his own ironic voice-over commentary, one of the many jarring narrative devices that Godard takes to break as many rules as possible. As pretentious as some of those rules are (Godard's director's title simply says “cinema”), and as boring as the plot is, the film remains one of the director's easiest films to watch, thanks primarily to the improvisational performances of Karina, Sami Frey, and Claude Brasseur, and the ace cinematography of Raoul Coutard, who could always take the most benign Godardism and make it look like more than a sophisticated prank by a petulant radical.
Hot Water ('24): Coming between the two feature length masterpieces “Safety Last!” and “The Freshman”, this 60 minute Harold Lloyd comedy isn't one of the star's most important films, but it's still essential to silent comedy buffs. The film, consisting of three episodes featuring newlywed Harold and his new family responsibilities – carrying an armload of groceries home, taking the family out for a chaotic drive in the new car, pretending to be a ghost to scare the bejesus out of his imposing mother-in-law – is a step down from the character driven plots of “Safety Last!”, “Grandma's Boy”, and “A Sailor-Made Man”, which may be why Lloyd hardly talked about it in future retrospectives, but given how priceless the comedy is, especially the genius of his physical comedy on a packed trolley, with a load of grocery bags, a crab, and a live turkey, it's impossible to denounce as slight. He'd never again resort to stitching three gag-filled episodes together to give the appearance of a feature, but it satisfied a growing Lloyd audience, netting the superstar close to two million in profits, which all but secured total artistic control on the upcoming “The Freshman” and “The Kid Brother”, his two best and most beloved films.
Classe Tous Risques ('60): Claude Sautet's influential crime drama, starring Lino Ventura as an on-the-run former mob boss who tries to smuggle his family back into France with the help of loyal new friend Jean-Paul Belmondo, is so character driven that it was said to have been a major influence on Melville and his famous gangster character studies of the '60's, despite getting buried at the cinema by the just bursting New Wave. Ventura is Abel Davos, a guy with a lot of former connections, all who hardly want to risk their comfortable lives importing a dangerous felon, but young Eric Stark (Belmondo, almost simultaneously becoming a super-star in “Breathless”) knows class when he sees it and risks his life getting Abel to Paris to enact revenge on those unwilling to help. If that sounds Melvillian, it is, right down to the leading stars, who would both prove essential to Melville in the coming years, but where the characters and actors may point to Melville's later classics, Sautet's style is less structured, utilizing an almost entirely on location shooting grid for a more naturalistic feel. Big props once again to Criterion for presenting a little known French classic with a fine bonus section of documentaries on first time director Sautet and novelist Jose Giovanni, who in a short span, was the author of “Le Trou”, “Classe Tous Risques” and “Le Deuxiemme Souffle”, three of France's best genre films.
Contempt ('63): Sometimes regarded as Godard's most accessible film, because of its gorgeous photography and mainstream backing, it is in fact one of his most difficult works, a bleakly comic satire of multi-national film-making that savagely ridicules producers, and their aspirations for a dumbed down profitable cinema, for undermining the artistic vision of directors. The story, of a screenwriter (Michel Piccoli) persuaded by an American producer (Jack Palance) to rewrite “The Odyssey” for Fritz Lang (playing himself), while his gorgeous wife (Brigitte Bardot) is used as a pawn to please the producer, is really the story of Godard's production itself, which had ego maniacal producers insisting on compromising the director's intent with necessary nude shots of Bardot, and featured, amongst other blatantly self-referential moments, cinematographer Raoul Coutard opening the film by pointing his Technicolor camera directly at the audience, voyeur on voyeur, complicit in everything that's going to happen in the following 100 minutes. Those who remember seeing this film on video will recall an unpleasant experience of watching Godard's brilliant and ironic use of Cinemascope compromised to an annoying pan-and-scan format, but Criterion's DVD is a beautiful wide-screen print which fully brings out the stunning use of primary colors (red, white, blue, and yellow), especially in a 30-minute fight scene between quarreling spouses Piccoli and Bardot, and for anyone not entirely fused on Godard's film-making satiric wavelength, there's a great commentary track and nearly two hours of bonus interviews and archival documentaries that should clue you in on one of the smartest films of his career.
Happy-Go-Lucky ('08): After the depressing “Vera Drake” and “All or Nothing”, Mike Leigh returns to the wonderful light comedy of “Life is Sweet” and “Secrets & Lies” for this terrific parable about happiness and frustration in London's lower-middle class. Delightful Sally Hawkins is Poppy, an overly joyous grade-school teacher seemingly happy with her life of school, friends, and the occasional party night, but when her bike is stolen and she has to take driving lessons, she meets her match in the frustrated and angry Scott (Eddie Marsan), a driving instructor who finds her flirtatious and frivolous attitude unrealistic with society's ills. Leigh doesn't ridicule or favor either of the conflicting attitudes, but it's clear that both are overly extreme in their philosophy, and if you're not willing to budge towards the other once in a while, Leigh suggests, with a vignette involving Poppy talking with a delusional homeless man, and Scott's numerous exaggerated temper tantrums, it's almost dangerously psychotic.
Quantum of Solace ('08): Daniel Craig returns as James Bond in this sometimes exciting, sometimes tedious sequel to “Casino Royale”, seeking revenge for those who double-crossed him and led to the death of his lover. The revenge element seems to be a direct influence of the popular Jason Bourne films, Bond has never needed a personal motivation to want to destroy bad guys intent on ruling the world, but here he has a need to put a meaning to his suffering, which leads more to destructive action sequences than maintaining the new plot, something to do with a third world coup and water hording. Craig is good in the tortured hero role, breaking out some textbook charm when seducing the routine Bond girl (either Gemma Arterton or Olga Kurylenko, neither particularly realized characters), and commanding in the hectic fight sequences, but we miss his ironic intellectual duels with the villain (Mathieu Amalric, a step down from “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”), as seen in “Casino Royale's” improbable but exciting poker scenes. Some of the disappointment has to do with weighty expectations, given the success and high entertainment value of 'Royale', which rebooted a stagnant franchise, but mostly it's the reliance on action over plot that hurts most, and director Marc Forster, known more for character driven films like “Finding Neverland”, “Monster's Ball”, and “Stranger Than Fiction”, relies too much on fast cutting and expensive pyrotechnics, as if unsure how to segue into the blockbuster action genre. I can't say the film is hard to watch, Craig is amusing, his women are attractive, and the occasional action sequence (an opening car chase, an airborne plane duel) is riveting, but it's a mixed bag; save the butt kicking and psycho-analysis for Matt Damon, we like our Bond cool, collected, and surrounded by neat gadgets.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ('07): This is a series that keeps getting better and better, as Harry and his friends continue to grow up in uncertain and dangerous times, the threat of war, evil, and death haunts the increasingly dark episodes. This time Harry (Daniel Radcliffe, growing up magnificently in each successive chapter) has been kicked out of Hogwarts for using magic on holiday, Dumbledore (Michael Gambon) comes to his rescue, but not before the shady Minister of Magic (Robert Hardy) hires a stern new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (Imelda Staunton) to overlook the rebellious students, led by Harry to fight his nemesis (Ralph Fiennes). What's best about this series, besides the wonderful special effects, appropriately grand in bringing a school of magic to life, and the story of growth, friendship, and fear, handled delicately by new series director David Yates (“State of Fear”), is the wealth of talented British actors who sign on for small but crucial supporting roles; Gambon, Staunton, Fiennes, Maggie Smith, David Thewlis, Julie Walters, Gary Oldman, Helena Bonham Carter, Emma Thompson, Robbie Coltrane, Alan Rickman, and Brendan Gleeson give class to a children's series that already had the attention of literary circles and fan-boys alike. Pity they pushed back chapter six until next summer, but it just makes the wait for this terrific series all the more exciting.
Black Narcissus ('47): Deborah Kerr heads and impressive cast as the newly hired Mother Superior of a sect of nuns tasked to bring a convent to a rural village in British occupied India, where the steamy setting and exotic rituals of the natives causes some of the nuns to re-think their position on chastity and servitude. The Archers' adaptation of Rumer Godden's heated novel is one of the great studio films of all time, though watching it for the first time, with its stunning Himalayan setting, you'd be absolutely amazed to find out that it was shot entirely in England on a studio back lot, the genius of collaborative film-making in all its glory. With Michael Powell directing the peerless adaptation by Emeric Pressburger, brilliant Oscar-winning Technicolor photography by Jack Cardiff, and impossibly realistic sets by Alfred Junge (also an Oscar winner), which turn a studio set into a beautifully realized mountain setting atop an Indian village, utilizing matte paintings and gigantic sets the likes of which hadn't been used to such perfection since “Gone With the Wind”. Co-stars Kathleen Byron and David Farrar, the most sexually charged of the cast, would play lovers in the Archer's next-film-by-one “The Small Back Room”, which, with its black and white photography and claustrophobic story of bombs and alcoholism, is as far away from the lush beauty and passion of this one-of-a-kind gem as it gets.
The Earrings of Madame de...('53): Danielle Darrieux is simply stunning in this all time classic from Max Ophuls, the third and final pairing of the famed actress and her obsessive auteur, who complements her vulnerability and incredible beauty with flowing long takes and close-ups that renders the spectator hopeless against an all controlling cinematic gaze. Darrieux is Madame de, the bored wife of a stern General (top billed Charles Boyer), who one day pawns her expensive earrings, a wedding present from her new groom, to pay off increasing debts. The earrings represent the meaninglessness of her marriage, but when they travel from owner to owner (in a circular trope most memorable from Ophuls’s “La Ronde”), and finally end up back in her possession, a gift from a new lover (Vittorio De Sica, suave and handsome), they become a fetish of impossible power and meaning. Ophuls, cinematographer Christian Matras, and set designer Jean d’Eaubonne create a lush upper class world of operas, dances, mirrors, staircases, carriages, and quiet adultery and contrast it against the General’s rigid honor and militarism, so when we hear booming cannons in one sequence, or a single gunshot in a climactic duel, the sound effect is both jarring and representative of a society whose pettiness is matched only by its aggressive nature to dominate and remain respectable. The Criterion Collection gives this masterpiece due respect with 75 minutes of bonus analysis, a scholarly commentary track and interviews, including a hilarious archived piece featuring stuffy old author Louise de Vilmorin, who blasts Ophuls for changing crucial plot points of her short romance novel and deems the film “boring”, which as we know, is anything but.
When Willie Comes Marching Home ('50): John Ford didn’t make many comedies in his long career, and when he did they tended to be lightweight and sentimental, like this enjoyable war farce with largely forgotten comic star Dan Dailey as a hometown rube who enlists in the army as his duty as an American, but finds it nearly impossible to get sent into the action. Being the first to enlist, Willie is hailed as a local hero, but when his training unit is shipped to an airfield outside of his close knit hometown, and he’s pegged to be a new recruit instructor instead of an active participant in the European campaign, his very presence becomes fodder for humiliation and gossip, much to the embarrassment of his decorated father (William Demarest). Ford handles this material less pessimistically than in previous war films like “Fort Apache” and “They Were Expendable”, opting to portray Willie as a likable doofus rather than an embittered hero screwed over by his government; indeed, when the plot progresses and Willie becomes privy to classified information, the top ranking officials opt to keep him well oiled on booze until his proper accommodation can be publicly accepted. Of note on the DVD, three deleted sequences that suggests an original intent to make the film more of a comedy-musical than a war satire, and a complete reproduction of the 1950 press packet, which gives full star support to Dailey and his all American performance.
Up the River ('30): On the flip-side of the ‘Willie’ DVD, Fox presents this early sound comedy with little to no restoration effort, making the patchy editing and stilted and scratchy photography almost unwatchable. Ford brought newcomer Spencer Tracy west from Broadway to play St. Louis, a famous criminal who escapes the joint with pal Warren Hymer to warn fellow parolee Humphrey Bogart of a scam he’s about to get involved in, to make it back in time for the big prison vs. prison game. Even with a good print this wouldn’t be much of a film to recommend, the plot is routine, a romance between Bogart and Claire Luce is contrived and unemotional, and the photography is flat, a casualty of the new sound technology that renders Ford’s late silent expressionism absent. This all but forgotten film is talked about today only for the pairing of Bogart, in his second film, and Tracy, in his first, the only such pairing of two of Hollywood’s best, and most famous, stars of the Golden Age.
Beauty and the Beast ('91): Disney's reworking of the old fable into a modern day romantic musical is still the best animated film of the last quarter century, comparable to anything Walt and his geniuses did in the Golden Days. The story, slightly altered from the legendary fable, as well as from Cocteau's 1946 live action adaptation, follows the cursed Beast as he tries to win the heart of the beautiful, book-smart Belle, who remains the creature's last chance at breaking a true love spell that will cast him as a monster, and his servants as common house tools, forever. The most touching aspect of the story, sweetened by Belle's brushing off of handsome villain Gaston, and the warmth of the Beast's blue eyes, is that beauty is what you make of it, and it's more about what's inside than out, as uplifting and important a message to children, and adults, as Disney has ever preached, though going back to “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves”, that same message is usually there in one way or another in every picture. Featuring another Oscar winning score by Alan Menken, with lyrics by Howard Ashman, who was on his deathbed in the final months of production - a score (with expanded songs) that went to Broadway and became one of the 20th century's most profitable and acclaimed productions – and then revolutionary computer generated images (the famous “Beauty and the Beast” ballroom dance), the film cemented the second coming of Disney's animation department, and was the first animated feature ever to earn a Best Picture Oscar nomination.
Bolt ('08): John Lasseter's first major undertaking as head of Disney Animation was to fire veteran director Chris Sanders from this talking animal project and replace him with a team of Disney second-hand writers and animators, Byron Howard and Chris Williams, and apparently it worked, for rarely does an animated film undergo a complete restructuring and come out as perfectly enjoyable as this entertaining gem. Bolt (John Travolta) is the dog star of his own action-adventure television show, in which he battles villains, ninjas, and evil cats trying to kidnap his owner Penny (Miley Cyrus), but when the cameras stop rolling, Bolt isn't allowed to be a normal dog, it'll ruin his perception of TV reality says the director, and our hero lives alone in a trailer. But one day he escapes when he thinks Penny has really been kidnapped, gets accidentally shipped to New York, and spends the remainder of the film traveling the country with a jaded ally cat named Mittens (Susie Essman), who tries to teach the pooch the ways of being a real dog when he finds out his powers are fake, and a hamster-in-a-ball named Rhino (Mark Walton), the funniest character of the film with his aggressive wonderment and fan-boy fascination with Bolt the TV star. Aside from being a spot-on satire of television production and the pressures young stardom (the casting of Cyrus is especially referential), the nominal road plot, getting back from B to A through impossible adversity and adventure, which we've seen in everything from “Finding Nemo” to “WALL-E”, is quintessential Disney, as Bolt and Mittens, enemies to start, learn the meaning of need and friendship, relying on each other, and the hilarious hamster, to complete their dangerous cross-country mission. The animation is terrific, almost Pixar worthy, especially a beautiful sequence on the Las Vegas strip, the voice talent is great, and the story is alternately exciting and touching (Mittens' monologue about being abandoned by a loving family is three hankie heartbreaking); Disney's best animated feature in over a decade, and I'm not just saying that because my cat's name is Mittens too, it's a genuine complement from a dedicated animation fan. And Mittens is adorable, of course.
By Adam Suraf