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The D.A.D. (Drawing A Day) Project
Thursday, June 10th, 2010—NewsMy friend Emily Chen and her sister Serena just launched The D.A.D. Project, “an ongoing, online, art-based fundraiser for the Canadian Cancer Society, the largest national charitable funder of cancer research in Canada.” Dedicated to their father, who has been fighting colon cancer since May 2009, The D.A.D. Project will showcase the Chen sisters’ artwork as they take turns posting a new piece every weekday.
The drawings are available for sale at www.theDADproject.etsy.com, with $10 from every item sold being donated to the Canadian Cancer Society. Please visit www.thedadproject.com to learn more.
Sling Blade
Thursday, June 10th, 2010—FilmSling Blade (USA 1996, Drama), Writer/Director: Billy Bob Thornton
Sling Blade is easily one of the best films I’ve ever seen. It’s made me completely high on the artfulness of filmmaking, and all the facets it includes—script, score, acting, direction, cinematography, sound and set design… When everything comes together, film has the potential to be completely riveting. And Sling Blade definitely delivers on that promise.
I am in awe of Billy Bob Thornton, who not only starred in and directed the film, but also took home the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay (Sling Blade is based on his short screenplay, Some Folks Call it a Sling Blade). He brings the elements of filmmaking together in such a distinct and effective way that I’m left utterly inspired and quite speechless. So it’s a good thing for keyboards.
Sling Blade opens as Karl Childers (Thornton) is about to be released from a mental hospital, having spent several decades imprisoned for murdering his mother and her boyfriend at the age of 12. As he explains, in his lurching and raspy way, he killed them with a sling blade (“Some folks call it a kaiser blade; I call it a sling blade.”) because he caught them in the act and thought they were doing wrong. He intended only to kill the man, whom he assumed was assaulting his married mother; when he realized she was willingly committing adultery, he killed her too.
But Karl is no longer deemed a threat to society because, as he says, he sees no reason to kill anyone else. He returns to his rural Arkansas hometown and soon befriends a young boy named Frank (Lucas Black). Frank’s mother Linda (Natalie Canerday) invites Karl to move in with them. And then Karl meets Linda’s abusive boyfriend Doyle (Dwight Yoakam), and Karl begins to see that there may be a reason to kill someone else after all.
The film’s tagline is: “A simple man. A difficult choice.” But Karl is anything but simple. Sure, when asked what he’s thinking after sitting in what appears to be ponderous thought, he replies that he was wondering whether to bring French fried taters home with him. But he’s also clearly spent a lot of time considering what separates right from wrong. He’s looked to the bible (whose words his parents often distorted to their advantage as they raised him), and to those around him, and he’s weighed his past decisions. In the end, he comes up with some answers of his own.
From the outset, Sling Blade called to mind distinct components of two other excellent films: David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence and the Cohen brothers’ No Country for Old Men. In its opening scene, Sling Blade drags out the sound of a chair being pulled across the floor as one of Karl’s inmates approaches him. In letting the camera linger on the two men, and holding the scraping sound far longer than you would expect, Thornton immediately sets the tone for the tension that plays out through most of the film. You wonder what sinister acts the inmate has in mind. If any. But that’s the point—you never know.
The scene reminded me of the long and eerily calm opening shot in A History of Violence, which very effectively establishes a feeling of calm before the storm. Except with Sling Blade, that feeling is maintained throughout the entire film. We don’t even have to see the violence. Thornton is confident to have the camera nestle in and let us visualize the violence to come without ever showing it. There’s a scene when Doyle outdoes himself, tearing into Frank and Linda in a drunken rage. The entire episode plays out in one long take, with Doyle and the others in the background, while Karl sits in the foreground listening as Doyle digs himself in deeper and deeper. The viewer is left to fill in what other directors might have addressed through fancy camera work or narration.
Sling Blade features many tableaux like that, where the characters are given space to interact without the interruption of cuts and close-ups. This isn’t just a default approach for Thornton; he knows to mix it up by varying the pace of the direction, editing and music (provided by the legendary Daniel Lanois) when it suits the story. It’s simply a way of letting the characters talk and the story unfold in a highly captivating manner. It works because the script is insightful and layered, and the actors are perfectly cast. Even Karl’s creepy inmate from the opening scene tells his tales in such a compelling way that his words become tangible, and all Thornton had to do was let his actor talk.
What reminded me of No Country for Old Men is the matter of fact way in which Karl seems to process death. The killer in No Country for Old Men (played by Javier Bardem) seems to represent the hand of fate, and there is an element of that in Sling Blade. Although with Karl, it seems more that he’s the hand of god. Yes, he’s a murderer. But it’s not clear that he’s in the wrong. He never acts out of a need for violence; he simply carries out the acts he believes to be right, whether because it’s what he was taught as a child, or what he came to decide on his own as an adult. (“Some folks call it murder …”)
Throughout Sling Blade, I found myself marveling at both the compelling and often daring stylistic choices, and the unabashed exploration of right versus wrong. Thornton’s approach to both is to lay it all on the line and let it play out before us, never rushing it, never forcing anything. The end result is a brilliant film that continues to roll in your mind long after the last frame.
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MR, I dedicate this post to you. Thank you for recommending Sling Blade (I’ll have to get to the others on your list), and thank you for letting me know you’re out there reading all my posts. I’ll never stop writing now.
Splice
Friday, June 4th, 2010—FilmSplice (Canada/France/USA 2010, Horror/Sci-Fi/Thriller), Writers: Vincenzo Natali, Antoinette Terry Bryant, Doug Taylor; Director: Vincenzo Natali
Clive (Adrien Brody) and Elsa (Sarah Polley) are just your typical 30-something couple. They’ve been living together for a few years, and Clive is thinking children but Elsa isn’t quite there yet. So they create a pseudo-child by splicing human DNA with the DNA of other, unspecified animals (though you can be sure there’s something amphibious in the mix).
I’m still shaky from having seen Splice. That must be a testament to its power and poignancy. I’ll try to be coherent here, but the second-last scene really disturbed me, even though it was foreshadowed in a scene between Elsa and her hybrid creation, Dren (Nerd spelled backwards).
Clive and Elsa are overachieving biochemists who have been successfully splicing the DNA of different non-human species for many years. Under the threat of having their operation shut down, they rashly move forward with splicing human and non-human DNA in secret. The results, of course, are bound to be disastrous, as we’ve learned from all previous creature features of this sort (and in case there was any doubt, the sinister music in the very cool opening titles confirms this). But first, Elsa and Clive bond with Dren, each in their own way. Despite Elsa’s protests that she isn’t ready for motherhood, she ends up stepping eagerly into that role once Dren emerges from her synthetic womb. Even Dren’s arrival parallels a birthing scene, with Elsa—her mother—moaning in pain over a wound inflicted by her “child.”
As Dren grows up (at a highly accelerated pace due to some indeterminate factor in her genetic make-up), Clive and Elsa experience the growing pains that typically accompany parenthood, including having trouble making time for work or each other. But as Dren’s mind and body grow increasingly sophisticated, her parents’ problems become anything but typical, and they soon realize the depth of their error and arrogance.
What’s alarming is how quickly Elsa turns punitive, shaming and maiming Dren, who is her child in all respects—Elsa gave her life, and raised her from infancy. We learn that Elsa’s own mother was something of a nightmare, keeping Elsa in small, dirty room with little more than a mattress as furnishing. As Clive tells it, Elsa didn’t want to have children because she was afraid of losing control, so she opted for engineering her offspring in a lab. It’s no coincidence that when her “carefully controlled” experiment goes awry, Elsa brings Dren to no other place than the home where she herself was raised (in the middle of the woods, no less); a place Elsa ran from to escape her “crazy” mother.
Splice has an obvious point to make about the dangers that creep up when ego and corporate agendas mix with science. But more than that, the film paints a terrifying picture of what happens when we try to control nature (no matter how good the intentions), and how lasting the effects of parenting can be. Watching Dren grow up at warp speed presents an exaggerated study in just how badly children can be damaged by the “wrong” parenting choices. Whenever Elsa thinks she knows best, it quickly becomes clear that Mother Nature knows better.
Elsa and Clive’s mistake is in tampering with something they don’t truly understand. The more they try to control Dren, the more their problems escalate, until both Elsa and Clive cross the line in hideous ways. It’s hard not to wonder if things would have gone so wrong had Dren been given the respect and freedom she asked for, rather than being confined and demeaned. There is no doubt that creating Dren was a mistake. But the mistakes her parents make after her birth point to something far more disturbing than the creatures they engineer—the human capacity for corruption.
I recommend Splice, despite (or maybe because of) the fact that I’m still reeling from it. It’s well paced, and has slick editing, particularly at the beginning. Its script is as intelligent as it is dark and disturbing. Definitely worth seeing, and then considering for awhile afterward.
Juno-winning children’s performer endorses Dinostory, Astrorocket
Wednesday, May 26th, 2010—NewsToronto singer/songwriter Jen Gould, whose fabulous CD, Music Soup, won the 2008 Juno Award for Children’s Album of the Year, recommends Dinostory and Astrorocket on her new website. I hope you’ll check out her site, and give the CD a listen, too. It’s lively, imaginative and upbeat, and a huge hit with the kids I’ve given it to.
The Ottawa Citizen covers Wonderpress
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010—NewsThe Ottawa Citizen’s Peter Simpson wrote a great article about Wonderpress, which was featured in the paper’s March 17, 2010 issue, and can also be seen on Peter’s blog, The Big Beat.
Bliss (Mutluluk) & Adam
Saturday, March 13th, 2010—FilmBliss (Turkey/Greece 2007, Drama), Writer: Elif Ayan; Director: Abdullah Oguz
Adam (USA 2009, Drama/Romance), Writer/Director: Max Mayer
As soon as I saw the title, I had to rent Bliss. It shares the same ironic name as the short screenplay I’ve been trying to get funded for the past year or more. Fortunately, the Turkish feature film turned out to be great, and not just another flop I picked up on a misguided impulse.
Bliss is based on the 2002 novel by Zülfü Livaneli. When young Meryem (Özgü Namal) is found unconscious by the shore, the people in her Anatolian village assume she was raped. According to custom, the only way to atone for her “shame” is to put her to death. Cemal (Murat Han), the son of the village leader, is tasked with taking her to Istanbul and killing her. But he can’t bring himself to finish the job, and the pair embarks on a journey that highlights the stark contrast between their beliefs and those of modern-day Turks.
This movie is gorgeous. Its camerawork is inventive and thoughtful, exquisitely matched with each scene and moment. The acting is exceptional on all counts, although Namal deserves special recognition for her powerful portrayal of Meryem. And the scenery—punctuated by an evocative score—is spectacular. Not only is Bliss an enlightening study of the culture clashes and medleys that exist in Turkey, it goes a long way to showcasing the country’s stunning natural beauty.
And then there’s Adam. I don’t have much to say about the film because, on the whole, I don’t recommend it. It’s about a young man named Adam (Hugh Dancy) whose struggle to make a relationship work with Beth (Rose Byrne) is compounded by the fact that he has Asperger’s Syndrome. When I heard about Adam, I was interested by the subject matter. But the trailers had too much of a movie-of-the-week flavour to get me into the theatres. I ended up renting Adam, and found that the previews were fair.
I’m only bothering to write about the movie because there were some interesting parallels between Adam’s difficulties in engaging in substantial relationships, and those demonstrated by so-called NTs—neurotypicals. How big a difference is there really between a person who hides behind a door, afraid to open it when his date arrives, and a person who opens the door but never really lets anyone in? Aside from the appearance of one being normal, they’re both quite similar—not sure how, and not ready, to open up and trust.
Beyond that, though, the film didn’t inspire much reflection. It doesn’t offer a lot by way storyline; instead, it sort of plays out like Introduction to Asperger’s 101. Dancy is clearly a fine actor who brings a nicely understated delivery to his performance. But his talents, and the portrait of a person with Asperger’s, would be better served in a film that offers the kind of artful, lyrical treatment found in Bliss.
The StarPhoenix gives Dinostory two thumbs up
Saturday, March 13th, 2010—NewsBeverley Brenna from Saskatoon’s The StarPhoenix gives Dinostory a special mention in her article on cats in children’s books. Please click here to read the whole story.
The Hurt Locker
Wednesday, February 17th, 2010—FilmThe Hurt Locker (USA 2009, Action/Drama/War), Writer: Mark Boal; Director: Kathryn Bigelow
BD and I recently brought our movie nights home when we rented The Hurt Locker. Somehow, it feels disingenuous to me to break the film down and analyze it too much. Maybe it’s because I know so little about the Iraq War, and only what stories and my imagination tell me about life in the military; maybe it’s because I live in the peace, freedom and security of Canada… I didn’t have this problem writing about Rescue Dawn, but maybe that’s a testament to just how powerful The Hurt Locker is.
Most of all, though, I won’t say too much because the movie speaks for itself. I’m only writing now to recommend it to everyone. The Hurt Locker is set in Baghdad in 2004. A company of American soldiers is nearing the end of its rotation with the Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit when their team leader is killed in the line of duty. Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner) fills in, and the film follows him and his team as they disarm bombs in and around the city, and try to grapple with all that their jobs entail—on tour and at home.
A few minutes into the film, BD commented on how real everything looked. She was bang on. At the risk of sounding naïve, I’d go so far as to say you feel like you’re actually there.
Kathryn Bigelow is an inspired director with a smorgasbord of films to her credit (Point Break, Strange Days, The Weight of Water). For The Hurt Locker, she uses a documentary-style approach—multiple hand-held cameras, often shooting at ground or eye level—that lends an amazing sense of realism. The film opens with a palpable tension that literally had me holding my breath. I had to keep reminding myself to relax so I wouldn’t send my back into spasm again (long story involving Frisbees).
The direction and acting are so impeccable that The Hurt Locker comes across as more of a documentary than a work of fiction. Bigelow creates an immediacy that really brings home what the men in Bravo Company experience; how mundane and routine their days can be, and also how downright unspeakable. It’s a tour de force from Bigelow, and one I hope will earn her a Best Director nod at the Academy Awards.
Hands down, a must-see film.
Crazy Heart
Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010—FilmCrazy Heart (USA 2010, Drama/Music/Romance), Writer/Director: Scott Cooper
Crazy Heart plays a bit like one of those novellas that doesn’t have a substantial story but spins out a character so beautifully that you forgive it.
There’s nothing unique in the film’s storyline, which is based on Thomas Cobb’s novel of the same name. Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a washed-up 57-year-old country singing sensation with four failed marriages and three years of writer’s block. But he can still bed women in every small town he plays, and swallows down the bitter taste of it all with alcohol.
Bad tries to pull himself out of his slump, reconnecting with current music great Tommy Sweet (a miscast Colin Farrell) and, more significantly, trying to forge a relationship with single mother Jean Craddock (a perfectly cast Maggie Gyllenhaal, who always delivers—see Stranger Than Fiction). But it’s clearly going to be an uphill battle for ol’ Bad.
Crazy Heart is reminiscent of Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, although not as daring or well paced. That said, nothing is truly original anymore, and what matters isn’t the story so much as the telling.
With Crazy Heart, writer/director Scott Cooper paints an incredibly textured and complete portrait of Bad, who is inhabited mind, body and spirit by Bridges. It’s a sensational performance, from his beaten down body language to the smoky voice he lends to the original songs. The movie is essentially a character piece, and one that’s well worth the price of admission.
Even Bad’s music—written by American music mogul T-Bone Burnett—is excellent. In fact, it’s so good you’d swear the songs must already be hits (and this coming from someone who, with the exception of Johnny Cash, is not a country music fan). There’s a scene in the film where Bad plays a brand-new song for Jean and she says it sounds familiar. “That’s the way it is with the good ones,” he tells her. “You’re sure you’ve heard them before.”
If that’s how it works with Bad’s songs, it definitely works the same way with Bridges’ performance. He instantly makes his character so real and sympathetic that you feel you know him intimately. Maybe “familiar” isn’t always such a bad thing. It’s kind of like coming home.
This Is It & Hamlet (live)
Thursday, January 21st, 2010—FilmThis Is It (USA 2009, Documentary/Music), Director: Kenny Ortega
Hamlet (Broadhurst Theater, 2009), Writer: William Shakespeare; Director: Michael Grandage
I wrote a draft of this post when I got back from New York last November, but never got around to finishing it. A friend recently asked about This Is It, which is apparently coming out soon on DVD, so I figured it was time because the documentary is definitely worth picking up for a night in.
ST and I caught a cheap-Tuesday showing of This Is It the week before I left for New York. Directed by the legendary-to-me Kenny Ortega (he choreographed my beloved Dirty Dancing), This Is It features behind-the-scenes footage of Michael Jackson and his crew of dancers, musicians and other artists as they prepared for what was to be his final tour. Things I was thinking after seeing the movie: it does an amazing job of suggesting what Jackson’s final show would have been like; and it pays homage not only to his talent, but to his incredible star power.
This Is It opens with interviews of the tour’s dancers, many in tears over the opportunity to perform with MJ. We roll from there into a medley of rehearsal footage at all stages of undress—from a basic walkthrough of the steps, to what looks close to the awesome final product that almost was. There are incredible feats of talent in This Is It, not only from Jackson, who is uncannily in tune with every key and beat of his music, but also his backup performers. The tour would have featured some of the world’s best dancers and musicians; look for some standout guitar solos in the film.
Ortega smartly stays away from the controversy around Jackson’s personal life and death. There are only minor hints of the star’s complicated inner dialogue, and bare glimpses that he might be somewhat out of synch with the world around him. Instead, the film focuses on paying a final tribute to what Michael Jackson brought to the world as a very gifted performer.
This isn’t an outstanding documentary in and of itself. But when you consider that the footage wasn’t intended for a feature film, and the incredible job the filmmakers do of capturing what the King of Pop’s swan song would have been like, This Is It becomes an opportunity not to be missed. I wouldn’t have been in the audience had Jackson’s tour made it to the stage. Now, having seen the making-of documentary, I’m genuinely disappointed that no one will ever see the real thing.
Speaking of star power and magnetic talent, I had the privilege of watching Jude Law perform Hamlet on Broadway while I was in New York. With This Is It fresh in my mind, I was all the more impressed by the effect Law had on the audience, and on the show as a whole. First off, he gave a wonderful performance. I’ve seen excellent film actors fall flat onstage. Maybe they’re accustomed to the short film takes and can’t maintain a consistent energy through the entire play, or maybe they simply lack presence. Other times, great stage actors can be a bit too theatrical for the unwavering intimacy of film. Jude Law doesn’t have a problem here; he’s excellent in both mediums. He had great presence, and projected and postured well to the audience. But he was always so convincing, I could imagine the close-up of his performance working very well on film.
This was a streamlined production of Hamlet. The sets and costumes were spare and dark, and the script was punctuated by a precise, minimalist score. Within that, director Michael Grandage made plenty of room to play on his lead actor’s star power. Taking artistic licence with Shakespeare’s script, the show opens with Hamlet crouched alone onstage, lit dramatically by a spotlight. He rises, leaves, and the play begins as it was written. It was a wise move on Grandage’s part to open with Law; had he not, the audience would have been too distracted to listen during the play’s opening dialogue, sitting on pins and needles in anticipation of the star’s entrance.
The director continues to make smart choices with his leading man throughout the production. When the ghost of Hamlet’s father speaks for the first time, Grandage points attention to the ghost by having Law’s back to the audience. Not only does it create dramatic tension by leaving the audience to imagine the impact of the ghost’s words on Hamlet, but it creates space to forget about the star for a few moments and really absorb the other actor’s performance.
If I seem to be overplaying the impact Law had on the theatre, I’m not. Every time he had a soliloquy, almost the entire audience was transfixed. I broke away from that enough to catch a glimpse of the people around me. They were mesmerized. When the curtain descended after the actors took their bows, most audience members bounded out of their seats, eager to return to the hectic New York City tempo. But then the curtains rose again to reveal Law standing alone, centre stage, and everyone froze on the spot, forgetting all else and managing only to stare and cheer. He was utterly magnetic. Even for someone who views that kind of thing with skepticism, it’s still quite something to behold.
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This post is dedicated to the fabulous FS, whose star is on the rise and who has always been a star in my world. Congrats on the off-Broadway debut!!
