This movie is overblown, unfocused, and self-congratulatory. It has nothing interesting to say about anything we do not already know. Anyone who has taken a high school world history class will know how it turns out, and anyone who cares about historical accuracy will be sorely disappointed. It suffers from poor writing, heavy-handed direction, and an unnecessarily flashy production.
It is a historical romance in the vein of films like Cleopatra and Shakespeare in Love. The love story here, however, makes no sense. It is not believable because we know these people will never be together, and we do not care because these people do not seem to love each other that much anyway. The romance hinges on a preposterous love triangle that is more of a straight line through Walter Raleigh, played by Clive Owen.
Cate Blanchett, returning for a second go at depicting the Virgin Queen, plays Elizabeth on the cusp of a holy war with Spain; however, she becomes preoccupied with Raleigh's charm and sense of adventure. Blanchett does fine work, but we've seen this character before, and like the overdone sets and annoyingly anachronistic music, it seems quite unnecessary. Owen is always good, but he just seems bored with the meandering plot line and nonsensical character arcs. Abbie Cornish plays the woman for whom Raleigh falls, and she is passable but not spectacular.
There is nothing really spectacular here at all. Under normal circumstances, that would not be a fair criticism, but this movie tries so hard to impress the audience that it just overwhelms us with too much of something that is not that good of a thing. It is showy and grandiose in all of the worst possible ways. It retains none of the passion and grace of the first film and has so much style that the little substance it does have is lost or unimportant. Director Shekhar Kapur would have been better off settling for the success, on just about every level, of Elizabeth and not trying to recapture it with this far inferior effort.
See it?
No.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Good Movies
Reviewing a movie like We Own the Night (see below) brings up an interesting issue: good movies- movies that are not great. They will not win awards. They may not even be terribly memorable. They are the kind of movies that one sees and enjoys, and maybe ten years later, he sees a copy in video store, remembers that positive experience, and rents it. Often, movie snobs (as I would classify myself, if only because I have been called one by friends) will forget or ignore the merits of a genuinely good movie.
If you do not know what I mean by "movie snob", think about the other forms of snobbery. They are the people who will not drink a wine that is not older than they are. They are those who listen to Mozart and dismiss The Clash as illiterate kids, punks, if you will. More relative to our conversation, they are the people who can not watch horror films because the films are silly or poorly made or any other various complaints. In short, they are people for whom subjective quality is paramount.
And, that is why there is a critical void when it comes to good movies. Great films and bad movies are similar in that they are both easily identifiable. It takes very little effort to recognize why The Godfather is one of the finest films ever committed to celluloid and that same little effort to see that the world would be a better place if Plan 9 from Outer Space never existed. Good movies, however, fall into that category of historical irrelevance that critics tend to forget.
Movies that fall into this category are dramas like Higher Learning and Less Than Zero, or comedies like My Cousin Vinny and The Jerk. Older films like An American in Paris or William Wyler's Jezebel. These are all movies that are unabashedly enjoyable. There is no reason to watch them other than to be entertained. I think the majority of people can go to movies like these and so many others and lose themselves for two hours. They can walk in, forget their lives, walk out, and maybe be a little happier than when they went into the theatre.
This is not a plea to the people or to the studios or anything like that. I think there are plenty of good movies being made. I think, and this is just mathematics, that the majority of movies released are proudly average. They will not stun, but they will entertain. This writing goes out more to people like me, people who may have lost the ability to enjoy a movie and can only focus on personal, subjective judgements.
To them, and to myself, I say:
go enjoy a good movie.
If you do not know what I mean by "movie snob", think about the other forms of snobbery. They are the people who will not drink a wine that is not older than they are. They are those who listen to Mozart and dismiss The Clash as illiterate kids, punks, if you will. More relative to our conversation, they are the people who can not watch horror films because the films are silly or poorly made or any other various complaints. In short, they are people for whom subjective quality is paramount.
And, that is why there is a critical void when it comes to good movies. Great films and bad movies are similar in that they are both easily identifiable. It takes very little effort to recognize why The Godfather is one of the finest films ever committed to celluloid and that same little effort to see that the world would be a better place if Plan 9 from Outer Space never existed. Good movies, however, fall into that category of historical irrelevance that critics tend to forget.
Movies that fall into this category are dramas like Higher Learning and Less Than Zero, or comedies like My Cousin Vinny and The Jerk. Older films like An American in Paris or William Wyler's Jezebel. These are all movies that are unabashedly enjoyable. There is no reason to watch them other than to be entertained. I think the majority of people can go to movies like these and so many others and lose themselves for two hours. They can walk in, forget their lives, walk out, and maybe be a little happier than when they went into the theatre.
This is not a plea to the people or to the studios or anything like that. I think there are plenty of good movies being made. I think, and this is just mathematics, that the majority of movies released are proudly average. They will not stun, but they will entertain. This writing goes out more to people like me, people who may have lost the ability to enjoy a movie and can only focus on personal, subjective judgements.
To them, and to myself, I say:
go enjoy a good movie.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
New Movie Review: We Own the Night
An official Cannes Film Festival selection this year, We Own the Night is a pretty straight-forward cop drama. It stars Joaquin Phoenix as a man torn between obligations to family and to business. Mark Wahlberg and Robert Duvall play his brother and father, respectively. They are police officers assigned to the very division that would seek to undermine Phoenix's business. That business involves drug deals out of the night club he runs. It seems that Russians are the organized crime go-to culture this year (see Eastern Promises), as it is a Russian crime family behind all of the dealings in said nightclub.
This is the basic set-up for a movie that feels pretty similar to a lot of other police movies put together. It does not have the humor of a Lethal Weapon movie or the heart pounding thrills of a police procedural like Zodiac. It lacks the visceral energy of The Departed, a movie to which it has been compared quite a bit. I am not sure that I really see the comparisons, but you can judge that for yourself.
There are few nice set pieces, like a rain soaked car chase at about the mid-way point and some hazy moments near the end. However, writer-director James Gray (Little Odessa and The Yards) never holds the tension long enough for the audience to get the effect he wants us to. It is rare that a movie is too short, but We Own the Night would have benefitted from a few extended sequences. Instead, Gray opts for the immediate thrill, which is often less satisfying and sometimes too easy.
Duvall and Wahlberg give solid performances, and Eva Mendes is fine as the wishy-washy girlfriend. But, the movie rests almost entirely on the shoulders of Joaquin Phoenix. His is the story we follow, and he is the one about whom we care. He has shown, most notably in Walk the Line, that he is perfectly capable of carrying a movie, and he does an admirable job here. He is able to overcome much of Gray's shaky, uneven writing and pulls a solid performance out of an average movie.
Fans of the genre will enjoy this film. Fans of Joaquin Phoenix will enjoy this film. People who are neither of those will probably not. There is nothing terribly new or interesting here. It may be better to rent any one of the various police movies from the mid to late eighties that this film seems to model itself after so much. However, is it a worthy addition to that class of film? Yes.
See it?
Yes.
This is the basic set-up for a movie that feels pretty similar to a lot of other police movies put together. It does not have the humor of a Lethal Weapon movie or the heart pounding thrills of a police procedural like Zodiac. It lacks the visceral energy of The Departed, a movie to which it has been compared quite a bit. I am not sure that I really see the comparisons, but you can judge that for yourself.
There are few nice set pieces, like a rain soaked car chase at about the mid-way point and some hazy moments near the end. However, writer-director James Gray (Little Odessa and The Yards) never holds the tension long enough for the audience to get the effect he wants us to. It is rare that a movie is too short, but We Own the Night would have benefitted from a few extended sequences. Instead, Gray opts for the immediate thrill, which is often less satisfying and sometimes too easy.
Duvall and Wahlberg give solid performances, and Eva Mendes is fine as the wishy-washy girlfriend. But, the movie rests almost entirely on the shoulders of Joaquin Phoenix. His is the story we follow, and he is the one about whom we care. He has shown, most notably in Walk the Line, that he is perfectly capable of carrying a movie, and he does an admirable job here. He is able to overcome much of Gray's shaky, uneven writing and pulls a solid performance out of an average movie.
Fans of the genre will enjoy this film. Fans of Joaquin Phoenix will enjoy this film. People who are neither of those will probably not. There is nothing terribly new or interesting here. It may be better to rent any one of the various police movies from the mid to late eighties that this film seems to model itself after so much. However, is it a worthy addition to that class of film? Yes.
See it?
Yes.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
New Movie Review: Feast of Love
Robert Benton directed the 1979 best picture winner Kramer vs. Kramer. After viewing Feast of Love, that is hard to believe. Working from an overly-meditative and underdeveloped script by Allison Burnett, Benton delivers a movie so sappy and bland that one wonders if this wasn't originally planned for a primetime release on the Lifetime Network (where it probably would have done quite well).
I would summarize the plot here if it were intelligible and if I thought it served a purpose. The point of a plot is usually to tell some story (hopefully an interesting one, though not always as is the case here) at the end of which characters learn something or are changed in some way. Burnett's script does not seem too concerned with providing its characters with motivations or real thoughts, and their character arcs flatline from the beginning. But, it's okay because we never really learn who these people are anyway, and the ones we do learn about we do not like. So, we do not care.
Morgan Freeman phones it in playing (for a change) the wise, world weary mentor to a group of people with problems (see The Shawshank Redemption and Million Dollar Baby). Greg Kinnear does the best he can with what he's given to work (and it ain't much). This is basically true of the whole cast: talented people playing an ensemble of uninteresting and occasionally downright annoying stock characters who are put in a series of increasingly ludicrous situations.
The movie has no redeeming qualities, and for their own sakes, I hope everyone involved got paid upfront.
See it?
Only if the alternative is bamboo slivers under the fingernails, and even then, weigh your options.
I would summarize the plot here if it were intelligible and if I thought it served a purpose. The point of a plot is usually to tell some story (hopefully an interesting one, though not always as is the case here) at the end of which characters learn something or are changed in some way. Burnett's script does not seem too concerned with providing its characters with motivations or real thoughts, and their character arcs flatline from the beginning. But, it's okay because we never really learn who these people are anyway, and the ones we do learn about we do not like. So, we do not care.
Morgan Freeman phones it in playing (for a change) the wise, world weary mentor to a group of people with problems (see The Shawshank Redemption and Million Dollar Baby). Greg Kinnear does the best he can with what he's given to work (and it ain't much). This is basically true of the whole cast: talented people playing an ensemble of uninteresting and occasionally downright annoying stock characters who are put in a series of increasingly ludicrous situations.
The movie has no redeeming qualities, and for their own sakes, I hope everyone involved got paid upfront.
See it?
Only if the alternative is bamboo slivers under the fingernails, and even then, weigh your options.
In Defense of Federico Fellini
"Total Film" magazine recently ran a two part series on the 100 greatest directors of all time. Ranking at number one was Alfred Hitchcock. That is predictable. A British magazine chooses a British director who made decidedly popular (in a neither good nor bad way) films. Scorsese, Spielberg, Hawks, and Coppola round out the top five. These are not surprising choices, and they are not bad choices. These directors all deserve to be held in the highest regard and are indisputably among the great directors of all time.
However, that those directors were included is not the surprise. The surprise, and the criminal shame, is the absence of certain directors from the top. Most notably and most criminally is the inclusion of Federico Fellini on the list at #67. The argument belittles almost the entire second half of Fellini's career, calling his post-La Dolce Vita work "a byword for self-indulgence."
Never mind that what is typically known as Fellini-esque is the type of surreal, metaphoric symbolism that characterize his late work. Never mind that two of Fellini's Oscars for best foreign film came during this "self-indulgent" period. Never mind that he is almost solely responsible for keeping Italian filmmaking on the map during the formative years of the French New Wave.
All of this aside, it is still impossible and illogical to assert that Federico Fellini is anything but the greatest practitioner of his craft. He started, as did many of his Italian contemporaries, by making hard hitting neo-realist films like La Strada and Le Notti di Cabiria (The Nights of Cabiria). Unlike his contemporaries, however, Fellini branched out in the 1960s and produced what modern audiences are likely to think of when considering his work. In 1960, Fellini made La Dolce Vita, marking a shift in his work from humanistic and contemplative dramas to satiric, often comedic, and always intelligent tableaux of images and archetypes.
These archetypes laid the groundwork for the director's greatest achievement, 8 1/2. Some critics look at this film and see a director who has run out of ideas. The reality is that 8 1/2 represents Fellini at the peak of his creativity. He draws upon all of his considerable gifts and produces a film that says so much about how we think and feel that we almost have to shut out some of it. Those who ignore the artistry of 8 1/2 and claim that it is lazy and self-indulgent are missing the intentionality in everything that Fellini does. Every image in a Fellini film is carefully chosen for its specific implications on the world and for the viewer. There is nothing accidental about his filmmaking.
And, so it was with no small amount of shock and dismay that I read the "Total Film" article on the great directors of all time and discovered Fellini so near the bottom. I suppose that I must hope that history is cyclical and that, one day, Fellini will once again be revered for what he is: the greatest filmmaker of his generation, and arguably of any generation.
However, that those directors were included is not the surprise. The surprise, and the criminal shame, is the absence of certain directors from the top. Most notably and most criminally is the inclusion of Federico Fellini on the list at #67. The argument belittles almost the entire second half of Fellini's career, calling his post-La Dolce Vita work "a byword for self-indulgence."
Never mind that what is typically known as Fellini-esque is the type of surreal, metaphoric symbolism that characterize his late work. Never mind that two of Fellini's Oscars for best foreign film came during this "self-indulgent" period. Never mind that he is almost solely responsible for keeping Italian filmmaking on the map during the formative years of the French New Wave.
All of this aside, it is still impossible and illogical to assert that Federico Fellini is anything but the greatest practitioner of his craft. He started, as did many of his Italian contemporaries, by making hard hitting neo-realist films like La Strada and Le Notti di Cabiria (The Nights of Cabiria). Unlike his contemporaries, however, Fellini branched out in the 1960s and produced what modern audiences are likely to think of when considering his work. In 1960, Fellini made La Dolce Vita, marking a shift in his work from humanistic and contemplative dramas to satiric, often comedic, and always intelligent tableaux of images and archetypes.
These archetypes laid the groundwork for the director's greatest achievement, 8 1/2. Some critics look at this film and see a director who has run out of ideas. The reality is that 8 1/2 represents Fellini at the peak of his creativity. He draws upon all of his considerable gifts and produces a film that says so much about how we think and feel that we almost have to shut out some of it. Those who ignore the artistry of 8 1/2 and claim that it is lazy and self-indulgent are missing the intentionality in everything that Fellini does. Every image in a Fellini film is carefully chosen for its specific implications on the world and for the viewer. There is nothing accidental about his filmmaking.
And, so it was with no small amount of shock and dismay that I read the "Total Film" article on the great directors of all time and discovered Fellini so near the bottom. I suppose that I must hope that history is cyclical and that, one day, Fellini will once again be revered for what he is: the greatest filmmaker of his generation, and arguably of any generation.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
New Movie Review: In the Valley of Elah
Paul Haggis, writer-director of the best picture winning Crash, goes for an even higher political mark with his latest film, In the Valley of Elah, and he hits his target right on the money. The film revolves around a father, played with gravity and sincerity by Tommy Lee Jones, and his search for answers in the death of his son. The movie follows the basic guidelines for a procedural film (see: All the President's Men or this year's Zodiac) but dares to go beyond a simple exploration of beurocracy or of systems. Instead, Haggis' film becomes an intense character study in the guise of a procedural.
It would seem that Tommy Lee Jones is in the midst of a career resurgence after turning in some fine work in The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada and the upcoming No Country for Old Men. His brilliantly understated performance anchors a film that teeters on sentimentality, as Haggis' films so often do, but Jones holds strong at the centre and keeps the focus of the story where it belongs: on the criminal investigation. Jones' choice to not play up his feelings allows the audience to draw its own conclusions, and we still come out feeling how Haggis would have wanted us to feel anyway.
Charlize Theron plays a female detective dealing with sexism in the workplace in a minor subplot that is never really fleshed out, but that is to the benefit of the film. She is strong-willed and intense but with just enough heart showing through that we believe she truly wants to help this man. Susan Sarandon is devastating in the few scenes that she has, and with almost no words at all, she conveys all of the hurt and loss that her character experiences. The rest of the ensemble cast play most mostly army and police personnel, and all bring their A-game. However, the show really belongs to Jones' grieving but determined father.
He is the beating heart at the core of this film. We sympathize with him and can understand every move he makes. Haggis' writing, while sometimes a little on the head, is wonderfully restrained here, and he simply allows the facts of the case to carry the story forward. The writing, coupled with Tommy Lee Jones' performance, do well to keep the film grounded just left of centre, when it very easily could have gone off on an overtly leftist political bent. The great success of the film is that it alienates no one but is still able to convey a very important message about the condition in which our world finds itself.
See it?
Enthusiastically, yes.
It would seem that Tommy Lee Jones is in the midst of a career resurgence after turning in some fine work in The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada and the upcoming No Country for Old Men. His brilliantly understated performance anchors a film that teeters on sentimentality, as Haggis' films so often do, but Jones holds strong at the centre and keeps the focus of the story where it belongs: on the criminal investigation. Jones' choice to not play up his feelings allows the audience to draw its own conclusions, and we still come out feeling how Haggis would have wanted us to feel anyway.
Charlize Theron plays a female detective dealing with sexism in the workplace in a minor subplot that is never really fleshed out, but that is to the benefit of the film. She is strong-willed and intense but with just enough heart showing through that we believe she truly wants to help this man. Susan Sarandon is devastating in the few scenes that she has, and with almost no words at all, she conveys all of the hurt and loss that her character experiences. The rest of the ensemble cast play most mostly army and police personnel, and all bring their A-game. However, the show really belongs to Jones' grieving but determined father.
He is the beating heart at the core of this film. We sympathize with him and can understand every move he makes. Haggis' writing, while sometimes a little on the head, is wonderfully restrained here, and he simply allows the facts of the case to carry the story forward. The writing, coupled with Tommy Lee Jones' performance, do well to keep the film grounded just left of centre, when it very easily could have gone off on an overtly leftist political bent. The great success of the film is that it alienates no one but is still able to convey a very important message about the condition in which our world finds itself.
See it?
Enthusiastically, yes.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Modern Classic of the Week: American Beauty
Sam Mendes' searing portrait of suburbia is a study in filmmaking. Every aspect of this film fires on all cylinders and comes together as a brave, heartbreaking saga of the lost connections between human beings. Alan Ball's superbly written screenplay truly gets at the heart of what it is to be a person in a sea of nothingness and to try to swim to shore in an attempt to regain some long lost humanity.
The person at sea in this film is Lester Burnham, played in a career performance by Kevin Spacey. Simply with the look on his face, he can speak volumes where words do not seem apt. He is a despicable character whom the audience can not help but like because, innately, we understand him. For all of his faults and insecurities, he is us, and we are with him on his search for a soul that has long since drifted away.
Matching Spacey point for point and blow for blow is Annette Bening, as Lester's workaholic wife, Carolyn, who tries so hard to keep up appearances that she herself can no longer see what is real and what is a facade. There is a magnificent scene a quarter of the way through the film where she repeats her mantra "I will sell this house today" while prepping the home for showings. She is earnest and strong until the final moments when she realizes that she has failed, and she completely falls apart. The mania and desperation she expresses is both frightening and devastating.
There are strong performances from every actor in the film, a fine supporting cast including Chris Cooper, Mena Suvari, Wes Bentley, and Thora Birch; however, the show is stolen by cinematographer Conrad Hall's beautiful tableaux. His use of light and shadow, of depth and color make the film a visual masterpiece, comparable with anything in a Peter Jackson sci-fi epic. Meticulously crafted and expertly shot, each image is a painting and each painting is a revelation.
On par with the likes of Schindler's List and Pulp Fiction, American Beauty stands as one of the finest films of the nineties. It is a bold statement on humanity and life, on beauty and truth, and on all of the things that we take for granted. The film's tag line, "look closer", is a summation of theme, but it is most assuredly a profoundly ardent suggestion on how we should live our lives and interact with those around us.
The person at sea in this film is Lester Burnham, played in a career performance by Kevin Spacey. Simply with the look on his face, he can speak volumes where words do not seem apt. He is a despicable character whom the audience can not help but like because, innately, we understand him. For all of his faults and insecurities, he is us, and we are with him on his search for a soul that has long since drifted away.
Matching Spacey point for point and blow for blow is Annette Bening, as Lester's workaholic wife, Carolyn, who tries so hard to keep up appearances that she herself can no longer see what is real and what is a facade. There is a magnificent scene a quarter of the way through the film where she repeats her mantra "I will sell this house today" while prepping the home for showings. She is earnest and strong until the final moments when she realizes that she has failed, and she completely falls apart. The mania and desperation she expresses is both frightening and devastating.
There are strong performances from every actor in the film, a fine supporting cast including Chris Cooper, Mena Suvari, Wes Bentley, and Thora Birch; however, the show is stolen by cinematographer Conrad Hall's beautiful tableaux. His use of light and shadow, of depth and color make the film a visual masterpiece, comparable with anything in a Peter Jackson sci-fi epic. Meticulously crafted and expertly shot, each image is a painting and each painting is a revelation.
On par with the likes of Schindler's List and Pulp Fiction, American Beauty stands as one of the finest films of the nineties. It is a bold statement on humanity and life, on beauty and truth, and on all of the things that we take for granted. The film's tag line, "look closer", is a summation of theme, but it is most assuredly a profoundly ardent suggestion on how we should live our lives and interact with those around us.
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