Inglourious Basterds
The first thing that jumps to mind is that this film, even—nay, especially by the standards of Quentin Tarantino, is not a comedy. There are lighter moments, yes, but they are few and far between. The film (if I can borrow from it a bit) asks you to do one thing and one thing only.
Wait for some Nazis to die.
The Nazis in this film, especially Christoph Waltz’s hopefully iconic portrayal of the Gestapo’s Hannibal Lector, are not the average movie sort. Usually in Holocaust films, Nazis are either bland foot soldiers or quietly calculating psychopaths. Waltz, however, is just as much of a revelation as Anthony Hopkins’ cordial cannibal. He is, undoubtedly, the happiest man in the movie, yet each pause he takes is filled with so much danger the film nearly stops. The first scene alone, in which he and Dennis Menochet discuss seemingly banal metaphor until it’s not, takes around fifteen minutes.
This film takes its time. There are so many loaded pauses it could make one yearn for the rat-a-tat-tat pace of Jules and Vince in Pulp Fiction. That film only comes up in this one because Samuel L. Jackson makes a few random vocal cameos as narrator, for no reason other than to add a little of the blaxploitation narrative style of which the director is fond. Most of Tarantino’s little devices feel out of place here, such as chalky arrows pointing to various Nazis to indicate that they are very important assholes. However, there is ample time for introductions, or for the various plotters to go over their main targets.
The violence is to be expected in a Tarantino movie, but kudos to said director and writer for using conversation as well as he does a knife or bullet. In fact, the brutal violence is pretty much exclusively used against the Nazis, not by them. Brad Pitt and his fellow Basterds are cruel, cruel men. In fact, some of the German soldiers (including one drunk with joy over the birth of his baby son) seem more sympathetic than the nameless or faceless Americans. Is it intentionally ironic? It’s difficult to tell, but, then again, time makes things clearer. This may very well be Tarantino’s break into “serious” cinema, if he can manage to part with his more cartoony elements.
Ultimately, the Basterd subplot is just that. The story of a young Jewish woman, Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent), is not only more engaging than that of the American commandoes, it also has more dramatic heft. Here is a portrayal of a Jewish woman as a brave, daring, and heroic figure. Her war paint is lipstick, and her weapons are film stock and a smile. The film takes huge liberties with history, but the victory it celebrates is that of Laurent’s deeply affecting heroine. Critics have both lauded and trashed Tarantino’s representation of women (especially one Uma Thurman), but whether because of his writing, direction, or casting choices, Shoshanna comes across very, very positively.
October 17, 2009
August 31, 2009
I'm Not There
There are about four great movies trapped inside “I’m Not There.” But I didn’t get to see any of them.
There is the lush, Crayola-hued swinging seventies of Heath Ledger’s unhappy movie star (irony is not lost in this film).
The stark black-and-white of Cate Blanchett and Ben Wishaw, both doing straight impressions of the elfin Bob Dylan in his prime, is too similar. Could not both actors have been condensed into one, praiseworthy and complex role? There seems to be a fear of range in this film. Each character has one note that they play over and over again.
Ledger slowly self-destructs. Blanchett is an addled contrarian. Wishaw dispenses slump-shouldered wisdom to critics. Christian Bale does next to nothing, but does reproduce a few of Dylan’s songs with his lip-synching (disappointing; he can sing). His character exists only within a sort of rock-mockumentary (until he doesn’t, and then he does again) that directly contrasts the straight narrative of the film’s other components. Marcus Carl Williams is a boy beyond his years, hitching rides on boxcars despite the fact that it’s already 1959. In one scene he races in dressed like Charlie Chaplin and carrying the Virgin Mary. Somehow, this image should serve as some sort of visual metaphor, but only encapsulates the convolution of this movie.
The final Dylan is Richard Gere, who looks as though he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the film. Honestly, neither do I.
Complexity is increasingly rare at the average multiplex, so it’s commendable to see such a strange and fragmented picture reach so many big names and big name-reviewers. But there is too much of a good thing, and a point where complexity becomes an excuse for a lack of breathing room. The production design alone is constantly fighting for attention. Franklin and Bale’s characters barely last the whole movie while Gere takes up valuable time in the third act. In fact, it is the supporting actors that manage to do some of the best work. Bruce Greenwood, Michelle Williams, Charlotte Gainsberg, and Julianne Moore all put aside self-indulgence for better performances.
What is disappointing is that there are many promising moments sprinkled throughout. Blanchett’s Dylan attends an art deco party held in rooms of solid white. It is like watching a particularly good actor overcome an overly pretentious stage play.
Many things could have been done to salvage “I’m Not There.” Splitting it into pieces, for one. A straight biography of Bob Dylan going electric would have been an engrossing film, especially aided by a complete performance by Blanchett. Ledger and Bale, who share a piece of storyline by no scenes, could have also fit together as the story of a folk hero who ultimately finds himself in the God his contemporaries have shunned, and the actor who portrays him, faced with ugly problems and opinions of his own. It may just be layman’s ignorance, but I don’t see the huge connect between Franklin’s character and Gere’s, which is pushed heavily, particularly at the close of the film.
“I’m Not There” owes too much to its title. Most of the characters seem vacant for the majority of the film. And while Dylan’s music is a constant background, he doesn’t feel there, either. Ambition is a wonderful thing, but Todd Hayes’ seems to ultimately be blind.
There is the lush, Crayola-hued swinging seventies of Heath Ledger’s unhappy movie star (irony is not lost in this film).
The stark black-and-white of Cate Blanchett and Ben Wishaw, both doing straight impressions of the elfin Bob Dylan in his prime, is too similar. Could not both actors have been condensed into one, praiseworthy and complex role? There seems to be a fear of range in this film. Each character has one note that they play over and over again.
Ledger slowly self-destructs. Blanchett is an addled contrarian. Wishaw dispenses slump-shouldered wisdom to critics. Christian Bale does next to nothing, but does reproduce a few of Dylan’s songs with his lip-synching (disappointing; he can sing). His character exists only within a sort of rock-mockumentary (until he doesn’t, and then he does again) that directly contrasts the straight narrative of the film’s other components. Marcus Carl Williams is a boy beyond his years, hitching rides on boxcars despite the fact that it’s already 1959. In one scene he races in dressed like Charlie Chaplin and carrying the Virgin Mary. Somehow, this image should serve as some sort of visual metaphor, but only encapsulates the convolution of this movie.
The final Dylan is Richard Gere, who looks as though he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the film. Honestly, neither do I.
Complexity is increasingly rare at the average multiplex, so it’s commendable to see such a strange and fragmented picture reach so many big names and big name-reviewers. But there is too much of a good thing, and a point where complexity becomes an excuse for a lack of breathing room. The production design alone is constantly fighting for attention. Franklin and Bale’s characters barely last the whole movie while Gere takes up valuable time in the third act. In fact, it is the supporting actors that manage to do some of the best work. Bruce Greenwood, Michelle Williams, Charlotte Gainsberg, and Julianne Moore all put aside self-indulgence for better performances.
What is disappointing is that there are many promising moments sprinkled throughout. Blanchett’s Dylan attends an art deco party held in rooms of solid white. It is like watching a particularly good actor overcome an overly pretentious stage play.
Many things could have been done to salvage “I’m Not There.” Splitting it into pieces, for one. A straight biography of Bob Dylan going electric would have been an engrossing film, especially aided by a complete performance by Blanchett. Ledger and Bale, who share a piece of storyline by no scenes, could have also fit together as the story of a folk hero who ultimately finds himself in the God his contemporaries have shunned, and the actor who portrays him, faced with ugly problems and opinions of his own. It may just be layman’s ignorance, but I don’t see the huge connect between Franklin’s character and Gere’s, which is pushed heavily, particularly at the close of the film.
“I’m Not There” owes too much to its title. Most of the characters seem vacant for the majority of the film. And while Dylan’s music is a constant background, he doesn’t feel there, either. Ambition is a wonderful thing, but Todd Hayes’ seems to ultimately be blind.
August 29, 2009
Watchmen
An oldie but goodie.
*Keep in mind that I have read the book, but only twice. Once for the specific purpose of reading it before the film came out, and once today, directly after I saw the movie.
“Watchmen” is one of those adaptations that has expectations that are so huge it can’t help but falter a little, only because everyone is waiting for it to.
That said, it is a visual masterpiece and one of the better “serious” comic book movies. I would argue that “The Dark Knight,” “Sin City,” and “300” all faced the same challenges that Watchmen did in terms of getting made, yet all three were better. However, I would not sell “Watchmen” short by leaving it out of their category, and will also readily admit that all three have a cynical sense of humor that broadened their popularity. Not to mention "V for Vendetta," which I almost forgot. Simply dazzling filmmaking and wonderful adaptation. Not copy-catting, but actual adaptation. Consideration of what looks good on a movie screen and how to achieve the overall affect that the source has on people.
As I said before, this movie is best in terms of visuals (And no, I don’t JUST mean Billy Crudup naked and glowing in the dark, though that didn’t deter me, exactly). The fight sequences are gritty and painful to watch, but never wavering, never blurred. They ran full force into the R-rating, and the level of gratuitous violence seems (from what I’ve heard) to send some who were expecting a standard comic-book movie running.
And while the violence would normally not bother me it really made me cringe. It just seemed like characters like Nite Owl and Laurie just, I don't know, enjoyed the gore. And to me, that was always what separated them from Rorshach.
The script, which was trimmed thoroughly in editing (apparently the original Director’s Cut runs nine hours?), is a little abrupt where it could be suggestive and a little vague where it seems like they just weren’t sure about what they were doing. Blaming Dr. Manhattan for the explosion that closes the movie is not a bad change—I myself was never a fan of the inexplicable squid that appeared “from space” in the book—but there was little time spent on the world’s fear of Jon, only on the awe.
I think what could have made it play was his willingness to just go. To be gone, to sever all ties with humanity. But the way they miscut his scene on Mars left out when he's considered something to fear. They also left out when Sally quips to Laurie that Jon is the H-bomb, which also would have subtly built up what they were trying to do.
EDIT: You know what I totally forgot but also hated? When Jon keeps electrocuting Laurie in the head for no reason. Manhattan was the coolest character by far in the book, but that random shit kind of ruined him for me in the movie, leaving the Comedian/Silk Spectre I relationship as my favorite. "Do that thing you do." Didn't like it.
The acting was adequate.
Jackie Earle Haley found the only superhero he’ll ever play, and threw himself into it. Not for a moment was he out of character, and while I hated what they did to his last scene, he nailed it. Unfortunately, while he gave the best performance, his character is not heroic. I wanted to sympathize with him, but I couldn’t. Rorschach is an extremely principled guy, a sociopath, so all I could do was admire the acting and that creepy mask. The same thing happened to me in the book.
Patrick Wilson as Nite Owl was the same as Patrick Wilson in anything. He was boring, uncomfortable, and a little punk, yet he had an EXCEEDINGLY comical, awkward sex scene. Watch “Little Children” and you’ll see what I mean. I do think some of it came from the character, but more could have been done to make Nite Owl less of a pussy.
Malin Ackerman suffered through pretty much every scene as Silk Spectre II. Actually, that’s a lie. Her performance depended too much on her scene partner. When she was with a gifted actor, she was fine, but she could not hold up her scenes with Wilson, who was a gracious costar, letting her have the spotlight. Unfortunately, she didn’t deliver.
Matthew Goode drove me insane as Ozymandias. I couldn’t buy that he was the smartest man in the world or the most dangerous. I thought he was “most likely to get his ass handed to him by everyone else.”
Crudup was good as Dr. Manhattan, as I think it takes skill to decide not to act. He broke pretty much every rule of acting—when to pause, when to shout, how to move his face—to showcase the character. He also (like Bill Nighy in “Pirates of the Caribbean”) managed to act through CGI.
I also thought Carla Gugino and Jeffery Dean Morgan did excellent supporting work as the Comedian and Silk Spectre. I got a sense of those characters’ pasts, and the relationship of the past to the present is very important to “Watchmen,” in my opinion.
Editing hurt this movie where it should have helped it. With Dr. Manhattan, who physically embodies quantum physics With the relationship between one generation of heroes and the next. The lack of visual quirks, the rush of the ending, and the choice of when to use slow motion. I think slow-mo works when something needs to movie slower than time to be felt properly. When moments drag on too long, or too much is happening to see it all at one time. Not when something just happens to look cool.
And, my personal pet peeve, why exactly didn’t they just get Philip Glass to compose the score for the entire film? Yes, they thankfully used “Pruit Igoe,” but they also used My Chemical Romance covering Bob Dylan. Glass would have given the picture a dash of class. The elevator music that seemed to play every time Ackerman took off her shirt for Wilson just made me groan.
I know I had a lot of complaints, but that’s just my critical nature. I thought it was overall a good film. Not a “great,” but if everything was “great,” then “greats” would hardly be so impressive. I think what “Watchmen” has done is show, yet again, that graphic novels are often as complex as pieces of literature.
*Keep in mind that I have read the book, but only twice. Once for the specific purpose of reading it before the film came out, and once today, directly after I saw the movie.
“Watchmen” is one of those adaptations that has expectations that are so huge it can’t help but falter a little, only because everyone is waiting for it to.
That said, it is a visual masterpiece and one of the better “serious” comic book movies. I would argue that “The Dark Knight,” “Sin City,” and “300” all faced the same challenges that Watchmen did in terms of getting made, yet all three were better. However, I would not sell “Watchmen” short by leaving it out of their category, and will also readily admit that all three have a cynical sense of humor that broadened their popularity. Not to mention "V for Vendetta," which I almost forgot. Simply dazzling filmmaking and wonderful adaptation. Not copy-catting, but actual adaptation. Consideration of what looks good on a movie screen and how to achieve the overall affect that the source has on people.
As I said before, this movie is best in terms of visuals (And no, I don’t JUST mean Billy Crudup naked and glowing in the dark, though that didn’t deter me, exactly). The fight sequences are gritty and painful to watch, but never wavering, never blurred. They ran full force into the R-rating, and the level of gratuitous violence seems (from what I’ve heard) to send some who were expecting a standard comic-book movie running.
And while the violence would normally not bother me it really made me cringe. It just seemed like characters like Nite Owl and Laurie just, I don't know, enjoyed the gore. And to me, that was always what separated them from Rorshach.
The script, which was trimmed thoroughly in editing (apparently the original Director’s Cut runs nine hours?), is a little abrupt where it could be suggestive and a little vague where it seems like they just weren’t sure about what they were doing. Blaming Dr. Manhattan for the explosion that closes the movie is not a bad change—I myself was never a fan of the inexplicable squid that appeared “from space” in the book—but there was little time spent on the world’s fear of Jon, only on the awe.
I think what could have made it play was his willingness to just go. To be gone, to sever all ties with humanity. But the way they miscut his scene on Mars left out when he's considered something to fear. They also left out when Sally quips to Laurie that Jon is the H-bomb, which also would have subtly built up what they were trying to do.
EDIT: You know what I totally forgot but also hated? When Jon keeps electrocuting Laurie in the head for no reason. Manhattan was the coolest character by far in the book, but that random shit kind of ruined him for me in the movie, leaving the Comedian/Silk Spectre I relationship as my favorite. "Do that thing you do." Didn't like it.
The acting was adequate.
Jackie Earle Haley found the only superhero he’ll ever play, and threw himself into it. Not for a moment was he out of character, and while I hated what they did to his last scene, he nailed it. Unfortunately, while he gave the best performance, his character is not heroic. I wanted to sympathize with him, but I couldn’t. Rorschach is an extremely principled guy, a sociopath, so all I could do was admire the acting and that creepy mask. The same thing happened to me in the book.
Patrick Wilson as Nite Owl was the same as Patrick Wilson in anything. He was boring, uncomfortable, and a little punk, yet he had an EXCEEDINGLY comical, awkward sex scene. Watch “Little Children” and you’ll see what I mean. I do think some of it came from the character, but more could have been done to make Nite Owl less of a pussy.
Malin Ackerman suffered through pretty much every scene as Silk Spectre II. Actually, that’s a lie. Her performance depended too much on her scene partner. When she was with a gifted actor, she was fine, but she could not hold up her scenes with Wilson, who was a gracious costar, letting her have the spotlight. Unfortunately, she didn’t deliver.
Matthew Goode drove me insane as Ozymandias. I couldn’t buy that he was the smartest man in the world or the most dangerous. I thought he was “most likely to get his ass handed to him by everyone else.”
Crudup was good as Dr. Manhattan, as I think it takes skill to decide not to act. He broke pretty much every rule of acting—when to pause, when to shout, how to move his face—to showcase the character. He also (like Bill Nighy in “Pirates of the Caribbean”) managed to act through CGI.
I also thought Carla Gugino and Jeffery Dean Morgan did excellent supporting work as the Comedian and Silk Spectre. I got a sense of those characters’ pasts, and the relationship of the past to the present is very important to “Watchmen,” in my opinion.
Editing hurt this movie where it should have helped it. With Dr. Manhattan, who physically embodies quantum physics With the relationship between one generation of heroes and the next. The lack of visual quirks, the rush of the ending, and the choice of when to use slow motion. I think slow-mo works when something needs to movie slower than time to be felt properly. When moments drag on too long, or too much is happening to see it all at one time. Not when something just happens to look cool.
And, my personal pet peeve, why exactly didn’t they just get Philip Glass to compose the score for the entire film? Yes, they thankfully used “Pruit Igoe,” but they also used My Chemical Romance covering Bob Dylan. Glass would have given the picture a dash of class. The elevator music that seemed to play every time Ackerman took off her shirt for Wilson just made me groan.
I know I had a lot of complaints, but that’s just my critical nature. I thought it was overall a good film. Not a “great,” but if everything was “great,” then “greats” would hardly be so impressive. I think what “Watchmen” has done is show, yet again, that graphic novels are often as complex as pieces of literature.
August 28, 2009
(500) Days of Summer
Like the parentheses in the title, “(500) Days of Summer” is a movie that has good intentions, and good results, but each laugh feels the tiniest bit calculated, the framing device all but shouted. Unlike a film such as “Pulp Fiction,” which took a non-linear approach simply for the hell of it, or “Memento,” which ingeniously took a plot point and twisted it to play with perspective, “Summer” is caught between the two. There is something to be said about telling a story as though it were a memory; with frequent lapses of coherence to jump around, but the story has no logical reason to be told in such a manner. That said, the writing is surprisingly tight, and wonderful art direction at least makes the movie look nice.
There may be a little too much “indie” for my personal tastes—honestly, The Smiths may be a great band, but not good enough to fall in love with a fellow fan—but also keeps things grounded—the protagonist figures out the same thing. It’s no spoiler to say that things indeed go south between Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel before the credits roll. Unfortunately, the “twee” factor (which, as a fan of “Pushing Daisies” and porcelain dolls, usually doesn’t bother me) gets stratospheric at times. The titles, upon which the film relies to place the scene on the timeline, decay from a brightly sprouting maple tree (Day 21! Day 113! Relationship bliss!) to drab gray clouds (Day 250… loneliness. Bummer.). It’s a detail caught between inventiveness (like when “Rushmore” did it) and eye-roll worthy (“Juno”). I mentioned earlier that the art direction is wonderful. It is, along with the costume and production design. The film feels worn in, like the shabby-chic vintage looks that the characters wear despite the Los Angeles heat. Does it add to the twee-ness of it all? Of course. But the attention to detail just gives the film more depth, in my opinion. Everything has a haze of blue and gray splashed across it. There is a moody romanticism to it.
The story is less revolutionary than it claims, but the fact that it is a film about young attractive people in a city that doesn’t adhere to standard romantic comedy formula is a welcome relief. Even the meet-cute encounter on the elevator is sweet. And once Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel are the cute couple, their bonding is childlike and the sexual content onscreen is next to zero.
Ultimately, “(500) Days of Summer” is a sweet story about two opposites that don’t attract, despite the media infatuation with against-all-odds love affairs. It’s a message I could get behind, and despite a fairly standard send-‘em-to-hell speech that says so near the end, it’s played with a low-key, airy feel to it. It’s a movie to enjoy even more once you leave the theater and realize it wasn’t a waste of time by-the-numbers Hollywood flick.
There may be a little too much “indie” for my personal tastes—honestly, The Smiths may be a great band, but not good enough to fall in love with a fellow fan—but also keeps things grounded—the protagonist figures out the same thing. It’s no spoiler to say that things indeed go south between Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel before the credits roll. Unfortunately, the “twee” factor (which, as a fan of “Pushing Daisies” and porcelain dolls, usually doesn’t bother me) gets stratospheric at times. The titles, upon which the film relies to place the scene on the timeline, decay from a brightly sprouting maple tree (Day 21! Day 113! Relationship bliss!) to drab gray clouds (Day 250… loneliness. Bummer.). It’s a detail caught between inventiveness (like when “Rushmore” did it) and eye-roll worthy (“Juno”). I mentioned earlier that the art direction is wonderful. It is, along with the costume and production design. The film feels worn in, like the shabby-chic vintage looks that the characters wear despite the Los Angeles heat. Does it add to the twee-ness of it all? Of course. But the attention to detail just gives the film more depth, in my opinion. Everything has a haze of blue and gray splashed across it. There is a moody romanticism to it.
The story is less revolutionary than it claims, but the fact that it is a film about young attractive people in a city that doesn’t adhere to standard romantic comedy formula is a welcome relief. Even the meet-cute encounter on the elevator is sweet. And once Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel are the cute couple, their bonding is childlike and the sexual content onscreen is next to zero.
Ultimately, “(500) Days of Summer” is a sweet story about two opposites that don’t attract, despite the media infatuation with against-all-odds love affairs. It’s a message I could get behind, and despite a fairly standard send-‘em-to-hell speech that says so near the end, it’s played with a low-key, airy feel to it. It’s a movie to enjoy even more once you leave the theater and realize it wasn’t a waste of time by-the-numbers Hollywood flick.
Tina Bloggerina
Hello!
I created this blog essentially for two reasons.
1. I wanted to comment on my friend's blog, and you have to be a Blogspot member to do so.
2. My computer crashes a lot.
Let me be clear: this is not my diary. I just happen to have a lot of critical thoughts, and I enjoy writing them down. I don't expect a lot of readers, but these little accounts are so organized! It's like renting a little portion of the Internet and fixing it up.
Most of my posts will be my thoughts on elements of pop culture (hence the name).
This is more a file cabinet of my ideas than something set up to entertain the masses, but if you become a reader, don't be afraid to comment! If you have suggestions for a movie I should watch, tell me! You can also email TinaBloggerina@gmail.com.
I created this blog essentially for two reasons.
1. I wanted to comment on my friend's blog, and you have to be a Blogspot member to do so.
2. My computer crashes a lot.
Let me be clear: this is not my diary. I just happen to have a lot of critical thoughts, and I enjoy writing them down. I don't expect a lot of readers, but these little accounts are so organized! It's like renting a little portion of the Internet and fixing it up.
Most of my posts will be my thoughts on elements of pop culture (hence the name).
This is more a file cabinet of my ideas than something set up to entertain the masses, but if you become a reader, don't be afraid to comment! If you have suggestions for a movie I should watch, tell me! You can also email TinaBloggerina@gmail.com.
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