Gerry December 8, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
Is it possible to spoil a movie where almost nothing happens? What about when there’s no emotional attachment to the characters and their actions are rarely interesting and never explained? In Gerry
Here’s what we do see in Gerry: the two men, who call each other Gerry at different points in the movie as well as using the word as both a verb and noun, drive up to a hiking area; they lose their way and split up wherein Affleck “maroons” himself on a rock thirty feet or so above ground, leading to Damon building a “dirt mattress” for him to jump into; night falls and they bicker about how to get back to civilization; they begin seeing mirages as Affleck appears to descend into mental instability; Damon turns on his friend, choking Affleck to death before realizing he’s near the highway where he hitchhikes to safety. In between, we’re treated to very long shots of the desert, of the sky, and of the actors both close up and far away. It’s an empty story and Gerry is an empty film.
For me, the problem with the film lies in the total lack of interest in anything being shown. The two characters appear to the audience as essentially nameless beings placed in the desert without any backstory and with little reason to care about their fate. We know nothing about these men or their lives aside from their apparent friendship, one’s interest in a computer game about prairie life on the frontier, and that the other found humor in the idiocy of Wheel of Fortune contestants. Their actions are just as unhelpful since most of the movie shows them walking or standing silently. I suppose their silence could be seen as stoicism and thus opening up discussion as to some type of exploration into male behavior, but that seems to be grasping at straws with which we’re barely even tempted.
With hollow shells for characters, maybe Van Sant wants his audience to look elsewhere for their enlightment here. If so, he should have provided more than a maddening exercise in testing his viewers’ patience. The open-endedness allows for much interpretation, such as whether the name “Gerry” signals that we’re looking at two halves of the same coin, but there’s just not enough to go on to even make these types of absurd inquiries worthwhile. Any similar theories would certainly be stretching what we see on screen beyond logical inferences and into futile personal opinion.
If you favor sobriety when you watch your movies, I can’t see too much to recommend in Gerry. The two scenes that I found most striking were when Affleck was on the rock and the mirage part where we see Affleck talking to Damon just before Damon walks up and we realize Affleck was really talking to a hallucination. Both of these scenes were interesting, but would have been more effective in a better movie. Even the climactic choking scene is uninspiringly dull, without any real motivation. Did Damon teeter into madness or was he just sick of dealing with his friend? I don’t think there’s any way to know and, by the time we leave the characters, they’ve left minimal impression anyway.
Of course, it’s possible I’m missing something important that’s gone over my head about the film. Gus Van Sant is certainly a talented filmmaker, even if he seems prone to sometimes choosing projects better left unmade. Overall, though, Gerry just seems like it’s lacking in most everything we expect from movies. Regardless of personal taste, there must be something present to provide more interest than, say, looking out the window. Somewhere, with some additional information for the audience or more activity amongst the characters, this could be an interesting and thought-provoking movie. Unfortunately, Van Sant didn’t make that film and instead opted for a filmed coffee table book moonlighting as an existential struggle of two men stranded in the desert.
Inland Empire December 3, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
I went to sleep thinking about Inland Empire and now I’ve awakened with Inland Empire still swirling around in my head. I think this is what David Lynch wants from his audience, and it’s hard to argue that his audience isn’t looking for the same thing. Otherwise, why would they continue to watch his movies. Lynch exploits the voyeur side of the viewer like no other film director, save possibly Hitchcock, and he dares you to keep watching. With Inland Empire, he has created his most difficult and challenging feature yet. The three-hour incomprehensible nightmare is a frustrating and bleak step into Lynch’s world, certain to polarize audiences who manage to sit through it.
No matter what anyone says, the “plot” of Inland Empire is going to have some major question marks regardless of how much you dissect what you’ve seen. There’s certainly a narrative to be found which, although extremely fractured, provides a basic outline of what’s on the screen. Laura Dern is playing an actress just cast in somewhat of a comeback role opposite Justin Theroux’s character, an actor with a reputation for bedding his female co-stars. Jeremy Irons is the director of the Southern melodrama-type film, which we learn was first filmed with Polish actors but never finished due to the deaths of its stars. It’s the rest of Inland Empire, meaning the great majority, that borders on incoherence.
Some of the scenes, like the frequent clips in Polish, can be explained while others, such as the humanlike rabbits voiced by Mulholland Drive cast members, are much more difficult to find their significance. Truthfully, no matter how much I think about it, those rabbits who appear as if they’re on a soundstage for a sitcom do not seem to fit anywhere with the rest of the movie. That’s okay, however, as viewers have realized that Lynch’s films can sometimes be puzzles with some pieces from other puzzles stuck in there and with other pieces missing altogether. David Lynch certainly doesn’t play by the rules of conventional filmmaking and that’s precisely the reason he has so many admirers. He’s built up a deserved reputation that allows him to make something like Inland Empire without too much of a backlash from those seeking linear narratives and coherent stories.
With so little information to grasp on to, the viewer truly becomes trapped in Lynch’s nightmare vision. What we often describe as nightmares rarely make sense and the disorienting feeling that accompanies them is often just as frightening. With Inland Empire, Lynch has crafted the closest thing to a nightmare that audiences have seen in some time, if ever. His use of digital video is certainly not the most aesthetically pleasing format for moviegoers, but it’s consistent with the grainy, dreamlike atmosphere he establishes elsewhere.
Aside from the general feeling of uneasiness that I’ve felt since watching it, I have two relatively minor criticisms of Inland Empire. First, I didn’t care for the distracting use of well-known movie stars in a couple of roles of little or no significance. William H. Macy shows up for literally a few seconds in a completely unimportant role and Mary Steenburgen has very little screentime as well. The latter’s role made little sense also, but at least it sort of fit thematically. Harry Dean Stanton has a tad more time on screen, but also seems useless aside from the laughs his bizarre comments elicit. His part is almost reminiscent of the superior role his Paris, Texas brother Dean Stockwell had in Blue Velvet, not in the two characters’ behavior so much as their strangeness in being there at all. There are a couple of more well-known actresses that pop up seemingly for little reason at the very end as well.
The other thing I found distractingly off in the movie was Lynch’s attempts in the second half to jolt his audience like they were watching a slasher film. I don’t need David Lynch using cheap techniques like sudden screams or flashing lights to startle me. The atmosphere he creates thoughout the film is so perfectly nightmarish that stunts like that are somewhat insulting and unnecessary. The movie is effectively creepy without these little tricks. Lynch has always known the value of off-kilter shocks (such as the “Loco-motion” performance here) so I was disappointed to see him use more conventional horror devices.
On another note, the screening I attended was surreal in itself. When David Lynch was introduced, he walked onto the stage with a man holding a trumpet. Lynch stepped to the microphone and said he’d like to begin with a trumpet improv. The man played his solo, the audience clapped and Lynch then read, I believe, a tribal poem of some kind. After the movie was over, Lynch talked a little about the digital video camera he used and how people tend to have problems with movies when they stray “just a hair” from being easily understandable. Of course Inland Empire is more than “just a hair” away from being easily understood and Lynch provided no additional clues, though I’m not sure I’d want to know anyway. Audience members were also rewarded with “David Lynch Signature Cup” coffee sample packs on their way out. “It’s all in the beans…and I’m just full of beans,” is printed on the label along with Lynch’s partially obscured face.
Some people will hate Inland Empire while others will declare it a masterpiece. I can’t say I’m in either camp. I found a lot to like about it after thinking about the movie for a while, but I was frustrated while watching it. It takes you to a place that’s far from pleasant and not somewhere I’d want to return to anytime soon. Then again, the only way to make sense of the thing is to see it again, as though repeating a nightmare. We’re all voyeurs. Lynch knows this. That’s why I’m sure I’ll see it again at some point.
I’ve intentionally omitted a rating because a movie like this is essentially impossible to rate.
The Piano Teacher November 25, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
Just when I’m ready to dismiss Michael Haneke as a talented trickster more interested in making movies for himself than audiences, I reluctantly give him a second chance and I end up emotionally floored. His 2001 film The Piano Teacher
The woman of the title is Erika Kohut (brilliantly played by Isabelle Huppert), who teaches piano to students in a Vienna conservatory. She is almost abusive in her strict instructions, yet highly regarded for her knowledge and skill at the piano. Her home life is altogether different, where the accomplished instructor is treated like a helpless child by her mother. Every action is challenged with questions from the older woman. Their relationship is both physically and mentally abusive, akin to an unhealthy spousal dynamic more than mother-daughter.
When Erika is asked to perform at a recital, an enthusiastic young man named Walter (Benoît Magimel) is so impressed that he soon seeks a coveted spot as one of her students. The second half of the film shifts the focus to the relationship between these two. Their disturbing and shocking encounters make for an unforgettable and emotionally draining impact on the viewer. I’m not sure I completely buy into Walter’s motivation for his actions, but the vagueness of his and Erika’s backstories avoids spelling out too much information for the viewer which Haneke always seems to carefully resist doing.
While Haneke once again shows his mastery for engrossing audiences often to the point of discomfort, it’s Isabelle Huppert who truly makes the film come alive. Her performance here must be one of the finest in modern cinema. Each look and reaction perfectly expresses which side of the character is being shown at any given time. Erika acts differently depending on her company and Huppert gives her just the right amount of nuance to make it believable without forcing it into caricature. When Erika exposes her deepest secret to Walter, Huppert’s transformation from the hardened disciplinarian to a fragile submissive is stunning.
There’s an overwhelming amount of analysis that can be gleaned from the relatively few minutes the audience spends with Erika. The book apparently delves more into her past and her self-destructive acts. While I’m sure psychoanalysts could expound upon the sexual elements of the film, I’m equally fascinated by Erika’s dichotomous behavior at home and at work. Her inability to stand up to her mother except for physically lashing out at her is contrasted by her rigid teaching methods and low tolerance for outside opinion. Too often in films we see disturbed or emotionally challenged persons portrayed either unbelievably “normal” save for their affliction or too extreme where they seem past the point of no return. In this instance, however, Huppert never betrays Erika’s hidden problems until she’s seduced by the idea of finally finding love. Somehow her struggles seem completely plausible and all the more affecting because of it.
A big thumbs down to Kino for their R1 censored release though. Cutting the film by roughly seven minutes, the American DVD company put out an R-rated release to accompany its unrated version which was the cut the rest of the world had. While consumers certainly have the choice when purchasing the Kino release, large rental chains such as Blockbuster nearly always opt for the rated version and force unsuspecting customers to watch an abridged version when the complete one exists elsewhere. Apparently, the alterations include the blurring of adult video covers, edits to Erika’s peep show visit and the omission of the essential and devastating scene where Erika cuts herself with a razor in the bathroom. Furthermore, Kino has inexcusably failed to provide anamorphic enhancement to their widescreen transfer.
As they say about difficult and challenging films, both intellectually and emotionally, The Piano Teacher is not for everyone. The film itself isn’t disturbing in the vein of psychopaths or violence and it’s not the kind of movie you’ll get thrills from. Still, Haneke has filled it with troubling images and acts that, after investing in these characters’ lives for two hours, become nearly impossible to shake. Even though the main character is rife with problems often deemed abnormal or deviant, Huppert’s performance is so fully realized with humanity that I began to have real sympathy for her. It’s that humanity, something I found missing from Haneke’s other films, that makes The Piano Teacher so heartbreakingly effective.
The Departed October 7, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
Superlatives are building up in praise of Martin Scorsese’s new film The Departed
The story is deceptively simple. Boston mob boss Frank Costello (played by Jack Nicholson) grooms a young man to become a police officer (Matt Damon) just as the state police set up one of their own (Leonardo DiCaprio) to infiltrate the gangster’s clan. The two men’s paths never cross and eventually both men are given the task of finding their counterpart. The complexities of this twin paradox are explored with an intriguing amount of gravitas, especially with DiCaprio’s character, Billy Costigan. While Damon’s Colin Sullivan enjoys rising up through the police ranks and his new luxury apartment, Costigan leads the life his father worked tirelessly for his son to avoid. Sullivan is given greater and greater responsibilities on the state police force while Costigan deals with prison, witnessing murders and unspeakable violence. It’s not surprising that the female psychotherapist (Vera Farmiga, who will hopefully parlay this somewhat standard role into a higher visibility that allows her to show the acting chops she displayed in last year’s Down to the Bone) becomes interested in both men for different reasons. When Costigan entrusts her with an envelope presumably containing crucial details of the work he’s done, the contrast in how the two men view her is obvious.
DiCaprio is mesmerizing as Costigan, giving essentially two performances and finally showing the intensity that was lacking in some of his other efforts. There’s a particular point in the film where the character is in a nearly impossible situation, closer than ever to having his cover blown and struggling to deal with what has just happened to one of the two men who know he’s a cop. Stripped of a safety net, Costigan’s fear is palpable and DiCaprio is perfect. In fact, I would venture to say that his performance really elevates The Departed from what could have been a much more standard cops and gangsters action picture to a film with a hefty amount of emotional depth.
Even though DiCaprio is the stand-out of the remarkable cast, Nicholson is, as expected, delightfully over-the-top when need be. Because of his iconic status (how many other 69-year-olds would “Rolling Stone” put on its cover?), Nicholson’s involvement seems to be the most talked about aspect of the picture and the prologue prior to the opening title focuses on his character. Regardless of how much ink is spilled over whether Jack is playing an amped-up version of himself, Nicholson does what he should here, which is play an aging, eccentric crime boss brimming with explosive evil.
Damon is also effective, if overshadowed by DiCaprio, although I felt there could have been some more development as to how Sullivan could so blindly follow Costello on the basis of a free bag of groceries. I also never fully believed Damon was truly good as a cop or truly bad as a crook like I could with DiCaprio, who effectively showed a short fuse on more than one occasion while effortlessly switching back to being the tortured hero headcase. Rounding out the main cast are Martin Sheen and Mark Wahlberg as the two cops aware of Costigan’s undercover status and Alec Baldwin (who seems to have found his niche as a character actor lately) as Sullivan’s police boss. Wahlberg is certainly entertaining as well, if more so for the insults his character is frequently dishing out than his acting. The always interesting Ray Winstone, who does what he can with a limited role as Costello’s top thug, is here too.
As the film unfolds, the suspense reaches a fever pitch that lasts right up to the end credits. The ending manages to be mostly satisfying while also leaving a slightly bitter taste with the viewer. Refraining from going into too much detail, it feels somewhat like a cop-out and, without retaining any artistic ambiguity, fails to completely resolve several questions. It’s probably the film’s weakest segment, even if it had been slowly painting itself into that corner, or one like it, for much of the picture. Nevertheless, the 2 1/2 hours of running time is never excessive, and, given the smart tone and dynamic pacing, I certainly can’t hold screenwriter William Monahan’s decision against him too strongly.
Martin Scorsese’s fingerprints are all over this film - from the early strains of “Gimme Shelter” to the numerous quick and violent deaths. At this point in his career, these directorial touches serve more as comforting reminders of Scorsese’s mastery than attention-grabbing distractions. He’s not repeating himself so much as showing that these kind of men and their actions are what interest him, or at least that this is the type of story he understands and at which he excels. While it may be impossible not to consider his previous work in the gangster genre when thinking about The Departed, the new film just builds on his impressive career and legacy. I never imagined my lofty expectations could possibly be met, yet somehow Scorsese managed to exceed them.
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.
Collateral July 23, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
It’s been about two years since Michael Mann’s Collateral
Movies that take place over one night have a special quality about them. Martin Scorsese’s wonderful After Hours immediately springs to mind as an example of this. Using this tempate, Collateral begins with Jamie Foxx’s cab driver character, Max, picking up a young female attorney (played by Jada Pinkett Smith) and taking her to a federal office building. As Max is just about to drive away, he gets his next fare, Vincent, who he will unwillingly spend the rest of the night driving around Los Angeles from one murder to the next. Vincent is, of course, a hitman played by Tom Cruise, the world’s biggest movie star. Except he’s not. He’s actually a gray-haired, non-descript and ruthless killer devoid of any movie star mannerisms or charm. In short, Maverick is nowhere in sight. Cruise is often not given enough credit for his acting ability. Accused of coasting by on his considerable charm, people seem to forget the fine work he’s done in such films as Rain Man and his three Academy Award nominations for Born on the Fourth of July, Jerry Maguire and the significant departure Magnolia. In Collateral, Cruise may have turned in his best performance to date by stripping himself of his movie star qualities and portraying a character who’s ruthless and businesslike to a fault. “This is my job,” Vincent says to Max, and the viewer gets the feeling that Vincent has completely removed any nagging moral questions about what he does for a living in favor of viewing his murders as mere occupational projects required to collect a check.
Despite Cruise’s top billing and considerable star power, Collateral is really about Max, a man who’s been kidding himself into thinking that he’s been driving a cab as a transition into owning his own limousine service for twelve years. Jamie Foxx is impressive in the role, arguably even better than his Oscar-winning performance in Ray the same year. Gone is all evidence of cockiness or confidence that’s been present in most of Foxx’s other roles. While Ray might have been mimickry on the highest level for Foxx, Collateral allowed him to embody a completely different person and show remarkable acting skill. As Max is given the opportunity to snap out of the doldrums of being a cab driver, Foxx is near perfect and completely believable as the transformed hero.
At two hours, Collateral is impressively lean compared to some of Mann’s other work. Not a moment is wasted and the editing is seamless. Even though the characters are sufficiently introduced, there’s no extraneous dips into their private lives. Even Max’s visit to his mother at the hospital becomes an integral part of the plot, leading up to Max impersonating Vincent and his meeting with Felix (Javier Bardem in a great cameo). The lack of unnecessary fat in Collateral is especially evident on multiple viewings where the viewer can let the story move along organically without wondering what’s going to happen next. When I recently watched the film, I noticed that each scene transitions effortlessly and at just the right time. This is no doubt helped by having the action shift locales with each of Vincent’s victims, keeping things as fresh as possible.
Not to discount Cruise and Foxx, but the most important participant in Collateral might be director Michael Mann. As in films like Heat and Manhunter, here Mann elevates what could have been a basic action movie into something much more. No other director in Hollywood today is as talented at putting his own vision into otherwise standard fare as Mann. Whether it’s the memorable use of music in key spots or the brilliant choice to shoot Collateral on digital video to capture Los Angeles at night, Mann frequently makes bold, interesting choices that are, more often than not, highly successful. He is an inspired filmmaker who makes mainstream, big budget movies for wide audiences that often manage to withstand the scrutiny of more discriminating filmgoers as well.
Keane April 3, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
Some films make us feel uncomfortable and troubled not only as we watch them, but for days afterward. It’s often easy to dismiss these films as not being your cup of tea, but there must be something extraordinary about them when it becomes impossible to forget what you’ve seen. One such recent film that stands out in my mind is Gregg Araki’s stark sexual molestation drama Mysterious Skin. It was a struggle to get through it because I didn’t like what I was witnessing. Then something strange happened. As the days passed, I still had the film etched in my memory. The two main characters seemed like real young men who had suffered the unimaginable horrors portrayed in the film. A few months later, I can’t unequivocally say I intend on watching the film again, but it’s still nearly as vivid and disturbing as when I first saw it. Another such film is Lodge Kerrigan’s Keane
Keane is the story of a man in his mid-thirties who is haunted by memories of his daughter being abducted in New York City’s Port Authority bus terminal. He also struggles with mental illness that, like much of the film, is never explained to the viewer. The audience is plunged into Keane’s world without the knowledge of whether his daughter was really abducted or even existed at all. Keane is also in search of a job despite apparently receiving a government disability check for reasons not fully explained. At times, he is able to interact normally and seem like a stable, normal person. On other occasions, however, we see the ugliness of his mental illness such as when Keane becomes paranoid and yells at no one in particular to stop looking at him.
This outburst happens when he’s looking after a little girl (who happens to be about the same age as his abducted daughter) whose mother is staying in the same motel and whom he has befriended. The whole sequence involving Keane and the young girl is extremely suspenseful in a perverse sort of way. The audience almost knows that something tragic is likely to happen and we must wait to see if and how our fears are realized. It’s painful, yet riveting, to watch.
In the title role, Damian Lewis is brilliant and fearless. Watching the beginning of the film and being familiar with the locations, I found myself wondering if the camera was hidden and the reactions of the passersby were real. I have experienced people as disturbed as Keane and Lewis is eerily realistic in his performance. Yet, despite Keane’s many, many flaws, I was never repulsed by him and I was hopeful that he could somehow avoid falling into the trap he appears to be setting himself up for as the film plays out. Again, I think that’s a testament to Lewis’ performance, that the audience feels empathy for Keane instead of him being some one-dimensional wackjob.
Ultimately, Keane is an enigmatic film without any real answers. The audience doesn’t really learn too much about Keane aside from the ninety minutes we spend with him. He tells the little girl’s mother he was married and had a daughter, but we have no idea if he’s telling the truth and the writer/director Kerrigan never tells us what is or is not real or imagined by Keane (aside from his obviously delusional search for his daughter’s abductor). Kerrigan also chooses to focus his camera on Keane throughout the film in tight, claustrophobic close-ups. This technique commands the audience’s attention and gives us little escape from Keane’s world. If someone is easily frustrated by stories like this, where there are no little bows to nicely wrap up what’s happened, then Keane is not the movie for them. If, however, they enjoy strikingly bold and original films that sometimes make the audience feel uncomfortable and refuse to placate the lowest common denominator then I would recommend this film without reservation.
The Ice Harvest February 28, 2006
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , add a comment
The Ice Harvest
The story begins on Christmas Eve as Charlie, a mob lawyer, and Vic, who we are told “sells pornography,” have stolen over $2 million from Charlie’s mobster boss, Bill Guerrard (Randy Quaid in basically a cameo). The setting is a very icy Wichita, Kansas and the two men plan to leave town in the early morning never to be seen from again. That’s the plan, but it’s not too difficult to figure out that something will go awry. The overall story is somewhat complicated, but never to the point of confusion and is handled quite nicely by the screenwriters, novelist Richard Russo and filmmaker Robert Benton, as well as the director Harold Ramis.
The cast is superb with John Cusack anchoring the movie as Charlie and Billy Bob Thornton portraying Vic with just the right amount of sleaze and unpredictability. Oliver Platt provides some comic relief as Charlie’s friend, who happens to also be married to his ex-wife. Cusack is the real center and gives the audience a character who you root for by default, but who also balances a fine line between dimbulb and someone who could actually pull off what happens. Connie Nielsen adds a femme fatale element to the story and is always a welcome presence.
There are obvious elements of noir found in The Ice Harvest. The cinematography is appropriately dark and ominous at times considering the morbid nature of what’s happening on screen. As the evening drifts into night at the beginning of the film, the cameraman effectively uses a blue filter to strike the mood. The ice is constant throughout and makes a nice motif for the cold and slippery aspects of almost every character we see. Ice itself is a strange thing, practically invisible at times and always potentially dangerous. This film uses ice to great effect, most notably during the final confrontation between Cusack and Thornton.
When The Ice Harvest opened this past November, I was excited to see it because it looked like something right up my alley. Then I saw the reviews and was put off because they skewed quite negative and seemed to suggest that Ramis had failed to balance the story’s humorous aspects with the obviously dark storyline. With the DVD release, however, I was once again ready to give the film a look and I’m really glad that I did. I can understand why audiences were not enthusiastic about the movie because it’s not a comedy and it’s not a crime/heist picture as the studio advertised it. What it is though is a dark and adult film laced with sharp bits of humor and wit that never lets the audience know exactly where it’s going. That kind of film seems to be a rarity nowadays.