No Direction Home August 28, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Music , add a comment
With the new release of Bob Dylan’s first studio album in five years, I was inspired to finally watch Martin Scorsese’s nearly 3 1/2 hour documentary on the musical icon. No Direction Home
Originally shown on the PBS program “American Masters” in 2005, No Direction Home is divided into two parts with the first a mostly chronological account of Dylan’s early days as a folk musician in lower Manhattan’s Greenwich Village and the large influence Woody Guthrie had on him. After reading “Chronicles,” it was nice to see interviews here with some of the people Dylan talks about in the book such as Dave Van Ronk, another folk musician whom Dylan befriended and whose arrangement of “House of the Rising Sun” Dylan lifted for his first album. The second part is even more fascinating than the first and focuses on Dylan’s rising popularity and subsequent backlash in the folk community for using electric guitar in his live performances and studio recordings.
Particularly enjoyable, in addition to the frequent musical performances, are the interviews with Dylan himself and, later on in the film, Joan Baez, who took Dylan out on the road in the United States with her but was disappointed when he neglected to offer her the same luxury in the UK. Everything Dylan says is worth listening to, even if it’s difficult to know how sincere some of it is. We’ve so often seen the older Dylan’s face in magazines and on television, but rarely have we heard him speak aside from a recent “60 Minutes” interview where he had to share face time with interviewer Ed Bradley. The more direct approach Scorsese uses here is highly effective and these interviews alone would make the documentary worthwhile. Other interviewees provide a good basis for recognizing Dylan’s place in our cultural history and the archival interviews in which Dylan playfully evades the media’s questions are a nice treat.
If the documentary has a significant weakness, it’s that the viewer remains in the dark about the personal and private side of Bob Dylan. Dylan is certainly one of, if not, the most enigmatic entertainers of the 20th century. I can’t fault him for this, but it’s frustrating to watch a documentary of this magnitude and length and then understand its subject even less than before it started. While we frequently hear praise of Dylan’s genius and vision, there’s a conspicuous lack of any dissenting or opposing voice. I would have liked to have seen more adversarial discussion about the switch to electric guitar and a deeper exploration of the betrayal that the folk musicians and fans, the ones who had built Dylan up from his days at Cafe Wha?, felt. I didn’t want to hear from those who just had an axe to grind against him, but it would have been nice to see interviews with more of the people from Part 1 concerning the electric backlash.
Regardless of how much light is (or isn’t) shed on Dylan the man, Scorsese’s film manages to ably build on Dylan the myth. If you have any interest in Dylan’s music, watching No Direction Home is like watching highlight reels of your favorite sports team’s greatest triumphs. It’s great fun and compelling entertainment. I never realized how, for lack of a better word, “cool” Dylan was until I saw him at the 1966 concert depicted here. No longer looking like the pixieish young boy he was earlier in the decade, the bushy-haired and stylishly dressed Dylan on display in the UK was a mature musician so confident in his actions as to defiantly ignore the boos and cries of “Judas” before letting loose with his electric set of songs.
Despite any faults, though, No Direction Home is never less than engrossing. Part 2, in particular, is as captivating as any music documentary ever made and serves as a fascinating look at Dylan’s transformation into a rock star. I would imagine that Scorsese’s film will, deservedly, serve as the definitive documentary work on Bob Dylan and a superb entry point into the man’s music. Along with its unofficial companion piece, Dylan’s Chronicles book, these two works may be the closest we ever get to understanding the enigmatic musician.
The Naked Spur August 17, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1950s , 1 comment so far
In many of his greatest roles, Jimmy Stewart had a twinge of unstable depravity lurking somewhere in his characters. I think that’s why he’s been my favorite actor for a number of years now. He’s considered the quintessential all-American movie star, yet often there’s something cruelly awry in these characters. His work with Alfred Hitchcock on Rear Window and Vertigo are the two most obvious and widely discussed portrayals of the kind of character I’m talking about and therefore need no further mention here. Maybe less referenced are roles such as George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, whose suicidal intentions serve as the catalyst for that film, or Elwood P. Dowd in Harvey, an unemployed middle-aged man both suffering from insane delusions and battling an apparent alcohol addiction. Both these films are beloved by many, yet Stewart’s characters are deeply troubled men struggling with serious problems.
Stewart used the westerns he made with Anthony Mann as an opportunity to roughen his image and immediately added another of these dark characters in their first collaboration, Winchester ‘73. In that film, Stewart was gritty and dangerous as a man who would seemingly stop at nothing to recover the rifle of the title. Three years later, after also making Bend of the River, the two men re-teamed for The Naked Spur
All five actors give impressive performances with frequent villain Robert Ryan as Vandergroat and a young Janet Leigh as his female companion. Ralph Meeker and Millard Mitchell play the two men who help Kemp capture Vandergroat, insisting on their share once they realize there’s a bounty involved. The small cast and vast nature setting provide an interesting contrast between the claustrophobic interaction among the principal characters and the expansive Rocky Mountains. As Vandergroat patiently bides his time, waiting for his opportunity to escape, he tries to psychologically pit his captors against each other. Ryan is very good at making the audience wonder whether he’s truly dangerous or benignly trying to regain his freedom. Overall, there’s a strong sense of ambiguous intentions for all the characters with the possible exception of Mitchell’s old prospector. The little we do know about the characters seems to make them even more intriguing and I think that helps put The Naked Spur a notch or two above most western fare. The star performance, however, is from Stewart. I can’t imagine other movie stars of his era being capable of delivering such a tense and layered performance. Taking advantage of his everyman persona, Stewart gives the audience something else entirely by playing a man whose motivations appear questionable, even if the ultimate goal is to collect the reward money and buy back his farm. By the end, his actions may seem surprising, even if we’ve seen him struggle with his own intentions throughout the film.
Regarding the DVD and the minor uproar over its supposed inferior quality, I was very skeptical after reading some criticism online about the new Warner Bros. release. I’m happy to say that, for my viewing standards, it was much ado about very little. Some scenes may be less sharp than I would have liked, but the image overall is strong with vibrant colors and a clean transfer. Thankfully, consumers are not forced into watching their DVDs frame by frame so the only real way to judge a DVD’s quality is seeing the movie in motion and not by looking at screencaps on the internet. Warner Bros. has released some disappointing DVD transfers at times (such as the Film Noir V.3 set), but The Naked Spur is more than acceptable and never distractingly blurry, as I had feared from reading online reviews.
The Naked Spur is greatly helped by the strong direction of Anthony Mann and central performance of James Stewart, whose stark loner seems to be somewhat of a precursor to the lead character from the Sergio Leone-Clint Eastwood films. Even if the DVD image is not as crisp as some might like, it’s still worth the price considering it would only be roughly six dollars if purchased with the six-film James Stewart Signature Collection
25th Hour August 14, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , 1 comment so far
With 25th Hour
In the film, Edward Norton, who always seems to be flirting with becoming the leading actor of his generation, plays Monty Brogan, a drug dealer on the cusp of serving a seven year prison sentence. His final day of freedom serves as the setting for the story. His two oldest friends, Frank and Jake (Barry Pepper and Philip Seymour Hoffman), along with his girlfriend Naturelle (Rosario Dawson), will try to give Monty a fitting send-off by taking him out for one last night on the town. Meanwhile, Monty must deal with the fact that someone, possibly Naturelle, tipped off federal DEA agents as to the whereabouts of the drugs used as evidence against him. Brian Cox rounds out the cast as Monty’s loyal father.
Spike Lee’s films often have an emotional impact on me. He’s a director that demands attention from his audience even after the movie is over. The issues he raises are often not easy to deal with (racism, poverty, and class all come immediately to mind) and Lee cannot be expected to offer short and sweet answers. His contribution must be bringing such problems to the conversation and hoping that enough people become inspired to work at finding solutions. The fact that his films are not disposable viewing experiences like the majority of what’s currently being released could be one of the reasons they tend to polarize audiences. I’m firmly on Spike’s side, though, and would watch almost anything he directs. Even his misfires are more interesting than watching a movie that’s been unintentionally remade hundreds of times due to a continued lack of creativity. His ambition is always thrilling to watch unfold and, more often than not, produces compelling and thought-provoking cinema.
25th Hour is striking for a number of reasons. The air of 9/11 hangs over the film from the opening title sequence onward. As one of the first movies to be filmed in New York City after the terrorist attacks, 25th Hour serves as a tribute to the city’s perseverance and refusal to let the events of that day destroy its hopes and dreams. Instead of shying away from the devastation of 9/11, Lee tastefully uses reminders such as the “Tribute in Light” and pictures of fallen firemen, as well as showing the remains of Ground Zero at night. These images don’t beat us over the head with carnage or destruction, but instead seem to act as reminders of what the city was like, a snapshot to be preserved forever on film.
I see a recurring theme of taking responsibility for one’s actions emerge throughout the film. In the arresting scene where Monty is verbally assaulting the many ethnicities and other targets in New York City, he eventually (while actually looking himself in the mirror in a symbolic visual) realizes his own culpability and begins to take responsibility. When Frank is in his apartment talking to Jake, he comments that Monty deserves to go to jail for his actions. As the film progresses, we see Monty come to terms with his crime and realize he only has himself to blame.
The film is not without its flaws, however. Monty is by far the most compelling character and when the story briefly shifts to either Frank or Jake, despite solid performances from Pepper and Hoffman, the film suffers. They are too similar to characters we’ve seen repeatedly in other films and television shows and therefore slightly hinder the film. This is especially true in the club scenes, where the two friends come across as somewhat one-dimensional and boring. The final scene between the three men is a notable exception and one of the strongest in the film. Overall, though, its well-acted, with Norton leading the way in a believable, mostly subdued performance and David Benioff’s adaptation of his own novel is effective.
25th Hour, more than films like United 93 or World Trade Center, should be remembered as a definitive testament to 9/11. Instead of retelling a story we’ve already seen on the news countless times, Spike Lee focused on the shellshocked city that emerged afterwards. As Brian Cox’s powerful monologue ends the film, some hope is instilled that life can go on even if there’s a long path before such possibilities can be realized. Even though we know Monty won’t choose the road his father has mapped out for him, the idea that such a road exists at all can be an inspiration to the temporarily broken and downtrodden. Lives, like cities, can be repaired and rebuilt.
The Station Agent August 10, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
How can a movie about a loner dwarf who inherits a small train depot in rural New Jersey be so charming? I’m not really sure, but watching The Station Agent
As the film starts, the main character, Fin, is working in a small store that sells and repairs toy trains. His friend Henry owns the store and seems to be a train enthusiast as well until he drops dead on the shop’s floor. Henry’s will provides that the shop be sold and gives Fin a small piece of property with an abandoned train depot on it. The unused train station is located in a small, sparsely populated town thirty miles westward. Displaced from his home beneath the train store and out of a job, Fin stoically relocates to the depot. Soon after arriving, he meets Joe, who’s been running his ailing father’s coffee/hot dog truck, and Olivia, who’s recently separated from her husband following the death of their young son. Fin also develops unlikely friendships with a young librarian (played by Michelle Williams) and Cleo, a little girl with a developing interest in trains.
A large part of what makes The Station Agent work so well is its three main actors. Peter Dinklage is perfect as Fin, somehow managing to be oddly charismatic while also purposefully detached and bitter. For much of the movie, Dinklage adeptly conveys his character’s emotions through looks and movements since Fin doesn’t say much and what he does say is usually short responses to others’ questions. Instead, he must quietly deal with the looks and stares from others who are not used to seeing a man 4 feet 5 inches tall. Obviously bitter from a lifetime of this, Fin has trouble dealing with others and prefers to keep to himself. His frustration culminates in a drunken leap atop the bar at a local drinking establishment, daring the onlookers to stare. Dinklage is so impressive here that the film critic Roger Ebert commented, probably only half-jokingly, that there’s “no good reason why (he) couldn’t play Braveheart.”
Despite his surly manner, Fin manages to make several friends in his new residence and, with their help, he eventually lets his guard down. Bobby Cannavale provides great comedic moments as Joe, who sets up his coffee truck near Fin’s depot each morning and persistently tries to befriend him. Olivia, played by the dependable Patricia Clarkson, is one of Joe’s regular customers and she also helps bring Fin out of his shell. Clarkson is quite good in this role and a lesser actress probably would have been a detriment to the movie since Olivia is a pivotal character who’s dealing with some of the same emotions as Fin, albeit for different reasons. She was nominated for an Academy Award in 2003 for a lesser film, Pieces of April, but she was at least equally good here and I’d like to think that voters saw the nomination as a reward for both performances. Speaking of awards, the Screen Actors Guild did nominate the ensemble cast, as well as singling out Dinklage and Clarkson in lead categories, in its annual honors while McCarthy won in the original screenplay category at the British Academy Awards.
The misanthrope in me somewhat envies Fin after he moves to the train depot. He has no neighbors, no electricity and no commitments. But then I realize that Fin isn’t happy with this existence. When Joe and Olivia push themselves into his life, he sees the good qualities of others and becomes happier as a result. Despite being disappointed by both, Fin bounces back and sees the value in these friendships. By the end of the movie, when Fin uncharacteristically agrees to talk to Cleo’s class about trains, we see that he has finally begun to open up and trust other people. In most of these situations, trains play an important role, whether it’s the hilarious train chasing sequence or the library book Fin tries to check out. They serve as a gateway to his friendships and provide a way for others to get to know him.
Ultimately, The Station Agent succeeds as a warm, inviting film that you can watch again and again. It’s very funny at times and, if forced, would probably be labeled a comedy. However, it’s really not the kind of movie you watch if you’re just after a few laughs. It’s much more of a character study where the characters are well-developed, yet leave you wanting more when the movie ends. In fact, while many contemporary movies seem guilty of excess and bloated running times, The Station Agent might have benefited from a few additional minutes. Then again, there’s something to be said about leaving the audience wanting more and giving them the freedom to imagine the characters’ fates on their own.
Heaven Can Wait August 4, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1940s, Ernst Lubitsch , 1 comment so far
In 1943, Twentieth Century Fox released Heaven Can Wait
Ameche plays Henry Van Cleve, a man who has recently died and is bargaining with the devil (played with wicked charm by Laird Cregar) for a spot in Hell. Van Cleve doesn’t think there’s any way he belongs in heaven after the things he’s done in his life. The movie takes us from a childhood crush on his French nurse up to his last years. The birthdays in between are used as jumping off points for each piece of Van Cleve’s life story. This is a perfect touch since birthdays, so joyous in youth, become representative of our advancing number of years lived as we get older. In this sense, Heaven Can Wait confronts the aging process head-on and we see Ameche transition from a young vibrant man to an elderly widower as the film progresses. In tow through much of the film is Charles Coburn, who steals scenes as Hugo Van Cleve, Henry’s grandfather. Despite being responsible for the family fortune, Hugo was never able to throw caution to the wind and is delighted to live vicariously through Henry’s playboy lifestyle.
It’s interesting to place the film in the context of when it was made in regards to World War II. Americans were at a patriotic feverpitch and Lubitsch gave moviegoers a wealthy, yet mostly charming lothario with few redeemable qualities. Van Cleve is, like most everyone, an unapologetically flawed character. Unlike many other movie characters, he’s not necessarily someone we want or would aspire to be. The reassuring aspect of the film is that, despite Van Cleve’s indiscretions, he still manages to have lived a good life and found a great woman who loves him. Surely we, the audience, have accomplished as much as Van Cleve and can hope to rest peacefully in the afterlife as well. Unlike the thematically similar It’s a Wonderful Life, Lubitsch’s film has a protoganist who hasn’t done the right things throughout his life. He’s made mistakes of character and, yet, he’s also brought happiness to others and redeemed himself at times.
The Criterion Collection’s excellent DVD displays the vibrant Technicolor beautifully. Films made with the Technicolor process are much more vivid and bright than subsequent color film techniques and they remain gorgeous to look at decades after they were made. For anyone interested, there’s a very entertaining and informative documentary on Technicolor found among the supplements of Warner Bros.’ two-disc special edition of The Adventures of Robin Hood starring Errol Flynn. Getting back to Criterion’s release of Heaven Can Wait, there are some nice supplements included such as a conversation between film critics Andrew Sarris and Molly Haskell that provides a lot of good details and analysis about the film. It also has one of my favorite covers of any Criterion release. It’s admittedly somewhat odd-looking but I’ve really grown to love the cover since the DVD’s release last summer. All in all, it’s a terrific package that helps the viewer appreciate the film without reveling in mindless minutiae.
Films like Heaven Can Wait make us think about our own lives and legacies. The introspective viewer sees the life of Henry Van Cleve and starts to wonder how his own would measure up if such a devilish meeting ever took place. Van Cleve’s ultimate fate in Heaven Can Wait makes us feel better about ourselves and our lives. If you believe in an afterlife as a reward for the life lived on Earth, it’s nice to have movies such as this one to reassure us that no one’s perfect and we’re not expected to be either.
