Archive for the ‘Film’ Category
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Thursday, May 15th, 2008—Film
The Visitor (USA 2008, Drama), Writer/Director: Thomas McCarthy
Iron Man (USA 2008, Action/Adventure), Writers: Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Art Marcum, Matt Holloway; Director: Jon Favreau
If I had a “Top X Movies” list, The Visitor would be on it. It’s the kind of film that stops me in my tracks and really makes me examine why certain films succeed where others fail.
This one is about Walter Vale (Richard Jenkins), a lonely widowed college professor who goes to New York City on business and finds a young immigrant couple living illegally in his apartment—and in the United States, for that matter. Writer/director Thomas McCarthy doesn’t spell out Walter’s loneliness. Instead, he shows it in the simplest, most effective way. He lets us watch Walter.
We meet him as a reserved, reclusive, awkward man trying to learn the piano despite an obvious lack of talent. He goes through piano teachers, firing one after another and forging ahead in his cerebral way, trying to think the music into being.
While watching The Visitor, I asked myself why Walter is instantly captivating; why simply observing him as he sits at the piano, or stands alone in the kitchen stirring spaghetti sauce, is so engaging. The reason is because the writing and direction reveal just enough to let us in, but leave enough room for the actor, and our imaginations, to breathe real life into the character. McCarthy never shows more than necessary.
I was reminded of a Stephen King quote I once read, that says something to the effect of, “Don’t tell them it’s scary; scare them.”
In The Visitor, nothing the characters tell us comes off as exposition. We learn of Walter’s deceased wife in the most natural way, through a simple conversation with a uniquely different but equally awkward man in Walter’s apartment building. From this brief exchange, McCarthy creates a hidden world, a history, a life for even this passing stranger whom we never see again.
That is one of the most extraordinary things about The Visitor. Its script, its performances profoundly evoke an entire life for each character, one that takes place before we ever meet them, yet comes across the instant that we do. The detail and richness of each character—the immigrant couple, Tarek (Haaz Sleiman) and Zainab (Danai Jekesai Gurira), and Tarek’s mother Mouna (Hiam Abbass)—is so unique. Through even the smallest gestures, comments and reactions, we get a glimpse into the different worlds the four main characters come from. In fact, every part is impeccably cast, down to the smallest spoken role.
Jenkins is pitch-perfect as Walter. He draws you so completely into his world, his loneliness, his reserve, that the one time he truly beams in the film, I felt my heart burst open. That’s how much I came to empathize with him; his joy literally became my own.
As Walter comes to know Tarek, Zainab and Mouna, you see him open up and begin to change, displaying great acts of kindness, generosity and trust. But you also see the decades that passed before those changes were possible. Jenkins’ performance suggests a man who wasn’t always able to let others in, who couldn’t give his wife what she needed and deserved, who didn’t show his appreciation for her until it was too late, and a man whose son understandably chose to live far away from him in London. You never wonder why he had no interest in learning to play the piano while his wife, a brilliant pianist, was still alive.
McCarthy conveys all this without ever spelling it out. There isn’t one moment of falseness in The Visitor.
That truth extends beyond the character development to the film’s more political themes. McCarthy makes a powerful statement about the way people treat one another because of preconceptions we all have. But he doesn’t do this by hitting you over the head with it. Instead, it becomes clear through the course of the main characters’ lives, either directly or indirectly. McCarthy weaves little insights into the film in smart, sometimes funny ways. Look for the scene in the lawyer’s office, or at Zainab’s street stand.
The Visitor is an incredible character study, but not only of Walter; the film presents a study of the people he meets, the relationships they form, and the world we live in. It also beautifully demonstrates that you have to let love (and music) in to be able to give it out.
Ironically, this is also shown in the summer’s first blockbuster action flick—albeit in a very different manner. Well, the part about love and human connection… not so much the music. (How’s that for a smooth segue? ☺) Iron Man is far less sensitive to matters of race, culture and foreign (or even domestic) relations. But it does its part by making some of the white Americans out to be bad guys, and showing plenty of good guys in the Middle East.
Iron Man brings the Marvel Comics series to the big screen. I haven’t read any of the comics, and had never even heard of Iron Man before seeing the trailers. But that didn’t stand in the way of my enjoying it.
I want to be Tony Stark. At least for a few hours a week. Minus the womanizing. He’s so cool, impossibly smart, commands complete authority over technology. He can fly. What more could you want? How fun would it be to be able to orchestrate machines and equipment the way he does, waving his arms around like a magician or conductor?
The film begins with Stark (Robert Downey Jr.), the genius behind American munitions manufacturer Stark Industries, being kidnapped in the Middle East and ordered to build a version of his latest bomb, the Jericho. (Never mind that what they really would have asked him for were the plans for the bomb.) But Stark is too smart for that. Instead, he builds a metal suit that enables him to blast his way out of the cave and return safely to America.
Upon his return, Stark finds that the life he led—of hot babes aplenty, including scantily clad stewardesses (the best kind, right?) with a talent for pole dancing, and weapons of mass destruction—no longer satisfies in the same way.
And so begins the gestation of Iron Man. The film is more a prologue to the Iron Man series than a full-on episode. Some friends of mine complained that there wasn’t enough action for an “action movie.” They compared it dismissively to The Hulk. But I liked The Hulk, although not as much as Iron Man. There’s so much room for psychoanalysis and character development in these action hero movies that I like them better when they involve more than just mindless action. Look at Unbreakable. Okay, I liked that more than most people did, too. Maybe I’m not making a good case here. But there is more humour and action in Iron Man than in either of those movies, and Downey Jr. has the skill and subtlety to convey back-story without dragging it out into the foreground and mucking up the action with too much emotion.
You get it all with Iron Man. It’s a lot of fun, features first-rate effects, and stands a notch (or more) above your typical, vacuous action blockbuster. Not a bad world to visit for a couple hours.
Thursday, May 8th, 2008—Film
Son of Rambow (France/UK/Germany 2008, Comedy/Drama), Writer/Director: Garth Jennings
I can never decide whether I’d rather have daughters or sons, but Son of Rambow sure tipped the scales in favour of boys. Or just kids in general. They have the most strange and beautiful take on the world, and surprisingly sharp insights when you least expect them.
Set in early 1980s England, Son of Rambow is about two young outcasts who decide to make a film about Rambo’s son (among other things). Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner) is part of a Brethren family; Lee Carter (Will Poulter) lives alone with his brother and enjoys a reputation as the school bully. When they meet, Will is the dreamer and Carter is the doer, but they quickly rub off on each other. Will’s sleeping spirit is awakened when Carter shows him Rambo: First Blood. From that moment on, Will’s imagination takes on a life of its own.
At its best, Son of Rambow takes you inside the boys’ imaginations and into their world, giving little glimpses of their private woodland conversations and dreams. But for me, these moments weren’t woven together quite well enough. It’s pretty fabric that’s just a little loose at the seams.
A few times in the film, Will’s imagination takes the form of animation and special effects. But it happens too infrequently to have a real impact, and gives the film a somewhat half-baked feel. Writer/director Garth Jennings should either have gone farther with the animation, or left it out entirely. As it is, it just served to remind me of Peter Jackson’s Heavenly Creatures which did a much better job at incorporating animation and portraying a child’s imagination (albeit a very warped imagination).
One of the pull-quotes on the film’s poster hails Son of Rambow as “a valentine to filmmaking.” That fits for me. It’s sweet, but a little superficial and light on real feeling. At times it tries to pack an emotional punch, but because of the rushed pacing, it falls a little short. In his direction, and in the editing, Jennings doesn’t allow time to properly build the climaxes or let us linger on their impact.
Still, I recommend seeing the film. It’s endearing and funny and features wonderful young actors. And sometimes a valentine is just what the doctor ordered: candy for the soul.
Sunday, April 13th, 2008—Film
Spirit of the Marathon (USA 2008, Documentary), Director: Jon Dunham
Ah, running. When I used to bike alongside my uncle as he trained for one of his many marathons, he would often wave and say hello to the other runners we passed. The first time it happened, I asked whether he knew the man. “No,” my uncle said. “Misery loves company.”
I haven’t run distances for several years, but when I did, I always loved how solitary it could be—running along the water, around trees in a wooded path, getting into a rhythm with only your thoughts to occupy you. But there is something unforgettable, and unmatched, about the feeling you get when you’re part of the crowd at the starting line. Several years ago, I ran the Toronto Marathon. I think there were only about 2,000 runners that year, but it was still incredible to feel the energy, nerves and excitement around me.
The 2005 LaSalle Bank Chicago Marathon, which is featured in Spirit of the Marathon, had over 33,000 entrants. The documentary follows the stories of six runners as they train for and compete in the marathon. It features record-holding, Olympic medalist runners who race to win; middle-aged and senior runners who smile and wave through the streets, making their way slowly but steadily to the finish line; and everyone in between.
One of the elite runners is Deena Kastor, 2004 Athens Olympic Marathon bronze medalist. Near the beginning of the film, she describes how she felt when she realized she was going to place on the podium. As we watch her run the last of the 42.2 kilometres, her eyes begin to well with tears. I can’t say she was the only one.
On the opposite end of the spectrum is Jerry Meyers, a man in his late sixties who leads the group of runners that includes, in his words, “the newest and slowest” of the marathoners. “People talk about the runner’s high,” he says. “The only runner’s high I’ve really felt is when I stopped running.” But he keeps going, determined to break his PB of six hours and change.
Spirit of the Marathonis aptly named because it truly captures the essence of the event. There’s the fierce competitiveness and awesome athleticism of the top finishers.Their dedication, determination, patience, perseverance—and willingness to suffer—is astonishing. Watching these runners haul ass throughout the entire course, pushing through what is often visible pain, is mind-blowing. It’s hard not to get up and race around the theatre when you’re watching that.
And then there’s the heart, soul and optimism of the people who enter as a tribute to someone they love, for a social activity, or to prove something to themselves. You see the triumphs that runners of all levels feel, whether it’s breaking the ribbon at the finish line or seeing their children waving from the sidelines.
There’s an incredible show of solidarity and support around the marathon. If you’ve ever run one, or even watched from the sidelines, you know that it’s impossible not to be moved by the humanity. As a one-time (so far) entrant and many-time spectator, I can tell you that Spirit of the Marathon does a beautiful job of reflecting that. 3, 2, 1, GO see the movie!
If you’re looking for other inspiring/sport/marathon movies, rent Saint Ralph, one of my favourite Canadian films. It’s about a young Catholic schoolboy named Ralph who decides that winning the 1954 Boston Marathon will be the miracle he needs to wake his mother from a coma. The final stretch of the marathon, played out to the tune of Gord Downie’s cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, is an amazing, stirring moment that’s reason enough to watch Saint Ralph. Also, the film is pretty funny; Ralph has a predilection for “self-abuse” in many interesting, inappropriate locations (climbing the ropes in gym class, anyone?).
I dedicate this post to GR. She won the passes that got us into the advance screening of Spirit of the Marathon. But more importantly, she’s gearing up for the Ottawa Marathon this May. (And did she ever feel guilty watching a movie about training for the marathon—after rushing straight from our running workout—only to eat a hot dog and fries for dinner.) GR, I hope the movie inspired you as much as it did me. And if not, I’ll be there screaming myself hoarse from the sidelines anyway. 🙂
Sunday, April 6th, 2008—Film
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly(France 2007, Biography/Drama), Writer: Ronald Harwood; Director: Julian Schnabel
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is based on the autobiography of Elle France editor Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalric), who suffered a stroke at the age of 43 and was left paralyzed everywhere except his left eye.
As imagined by Julian Schnabel—a prominent American painter and Academy-Award nominated filmmaker—Bauby’s world evolves from one seen through a tiny crack in the wall, to one full of wonder, pleasure and beauty, a world of infinite scope where anything is possible.
The film’s title refers to Bauby’s discordant outlooks on the world. At first, through narration that represents his thoughts, Bauby likens his situation to being trapped in a diving bell. But before long, he imagines that he is a butterfly, able to escape the confines of his cocoon and soar across the world, back and forth through time, from reality to fantasy and back again.
The transition occurs when Bauby remarkably announces, “I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren’t paralyzed: my imagination and my memory.” From then on, we are treated to more of the world, as others see it and, more importantly, as Bauby imagines it.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is gorgeously filmed by acclaimed cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (who shot most of Steven Spielberg’s movies). The lighting; the hazy, surreal, tones; the subtle and frequent focus shifts… Kaminski does a phenomenal job of pulling the viewer into Bauby’s world.
Through his memory and fantasies, we learn of Bauby’s passions, regrets, mistakes and flaws. We see his devoted but estranged wife by his bedside, reading to him, sharing her life with him still, while the woman he left her for is too childish and self-absorbed to visit him.
We also get a strong sense of his personality. He was a funny man. When a telephone repairman jokes about Bauby being a heavy breather, the speech pathologist, Henriette, (played by wonderful Quebec actor Marie-Josée Croze) is deeply offended and tells the repairman off. But we hear Bauby’s internal laughter, and his thoughts: “Henri, you have no sense of humour.”
I really loved this film. Visually, it’s a work of art. Spiritually, it’s touching, moving, upsetting. It makes you appreciate the potential we have in our own lives, seeing what Bauby was capable of with only his left eye and his mind’s eye. It also sheds light on people’s tremendous capacity for love and forgiveness.
The incredible part is that this is a true story. After learning to communicate by blinking, the real-life Bauby ultimately decides to “write” his memoirs with the help of an unfathomably patient transcriptionist. Slowly, painstakingly, he recounts his story in detail—one letter, one blink, one wing beat at a time.
Tuesday, March 11th, 2008—Film
The Brave One (USA/Australia 2007, Crime/Drama/Thriller), Writers: Roderick Taylor and Bruce A. Taylor; Director: Neil Jordan
Jodie Foster was my childhood idol. I thought she hung the moon. In junior high, I turned my best friend, SM, onto her after my class presentation on the actor. (I might have traumatized my other classmates by showing clips from The Accused and The Silence of the Lambs…) Anyway, after that, SM and I started renting a lot of Foster’s earlier work. I loved her strength and intelligence, and the attention to detail she gave each of her characters. I can’t think of anyone else quite like her in the industry.
These days, it seems that Foster has largely retreated from acting, stepping out only now and then to make an appearance in more commercial fare. It’s exciting that she’s pulled her focus to working behind the camera. But it doesn’t mean that fans like myself don’t miss seeing her perform in higher caliber films.
All this to say that I really didn’t like The Brave One. I recently rented it because Foster was starring, and because it’s directed by The Crying Game’s Neil Jordan, so I figured it couldn’t be that bad. And yet…
I disliked the film from the get-go. It begins with an over-zealous attempt to sell us on just how very much in love New Yorkers Erica Bain (Foster) and her fiancé David Kirmani (Naveen Andrews) are. And then, quite quickly, the couple leads us down the garden path to a brutal attack in Central Park that leaves David dead and Erica in a coma.
When she wakes up, Erica struggles to return to the life she used to lead. But she finds it impossible and sets out on a quest for vigilante justice. Along the way, she befriends Detective Mercer (Terrence Howard), the cop who is investigating her crimes.
In my review of 3:10 to Yuma, I referred to the benefits of bringing a director with a history of more “sensitive” films to the action movie genre. It worked in 3:10 to Yuma. It doesn’t work in The Brave One. Rather than bringing a human touch to the excitement of a thriller, The Brave One is left somewhere in no-man’s land; it’s neither poignant and sensitive, nor exciting.
One example of this failed merger occurs just after Erica and David have been attacked. As the medical team handles their bodies and removes their clothing, we cut back and forth to the couple making love, caressing those same body parts and removing clothing in a very different context. It should work; it’s a beautiful concept, a stark contrast. But it just doesn’t. The first cut to the love-making is confusing and feels out of place. It was too early in the film for me to believe in their all-consuming love and to feel a sense of loss at the end of their relationship. But mostly, the camera direction and editing are lacking.
The script also has its shortcomings. Erica hosts a radio show about New York. After the attack, she begins to reflect on-air about reports of her own crimes, and eventually takes questions and comments from listeners. Her ponderings and self-analysis come off as contrived, adding to the film’s self-consciousness.
The concept of a woman turning to violence after being horribly assaulted calls to mind Patty Jenkins’ 2003 film Monster, with Charlize Theron playing real-life prostitute turned serial killer Aileen Wuornos. Monster is much more convincing than The Brave One in many ways, but the biggest one for me is the transition the film’s leading characters go through. Played phenomenally by Theron, Wuornos doesn’t stand back and analyze her actions or motives the way that Erica does. Violence against men is the only way she knows how to respond to the horrific violence that was committed against her. It seems genuine and believable, although disturbing and tragically sad. But with Erica’s process, it feels as if she’s holding the viewer’s hand, explaining herself through voice-overs and radio scripts just in case we couldn’t make the leap ourselves. All of this adds up to The Brave One coming across as silly: an unsubtle film about vigilante justice, that fails to add anything new to the dialogue about when right is wrong and wrong is right.
If that weren’t enough, there are a couple oddly-placed references to the Iraq war. Are we supposed to draw a link to Bush’s “lawful” violence and the “vigilante” justice the terrorists are forging? Is the attack on Erica meant to represent the 2001 attack on the city itself? I don’t have a problem with drawing that parallel, but it can’t be accomplished with two asides about Iraq. Better to leave it out entirely.
Foster and Howard are excellent actors, and it’s worthwhile watching them in action. But if you’re looking for great performances and great movies all in one, see Foster in The Silence of the Lambs, The Accused, Taxi Driver or Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (among others). For Howard, it’s hard to beat Hustle & Flow: “You know it’s hard out here for a pimp / When he’s tryin to get his money for the rent / For the Cadillacs and gas money spent / There’s a whole lotta bitches jumpin ship.”
Sunday, March 9th, 2008—Film
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Romania 2007, Drama), Writer/Director: Cristian Mungiu
[Spoiler Alert: I give away a few plot points, but none that aren’t revealed relatively early in the movie. And this film’s worth lies in the telling at least as much—if not more—as in the story itself.]
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days packs a solid punch. It’s incredibly powerful. But it doesn’t throw any quick jabs. Instead, it plays out slowly with very few cuts. Writer/director Cristian Mungiu pulls back the curtains on several moments in a difficult day in a young woman’s life, and lets us watch what unfolds.
The film opens with two students in a dorm room in 1980s communist Romania: Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) and Gabita (Laura Vasiliu). Otilia has just agreed to help Gabita with something, but we don’t know at first what that something is. It soon becomes clear that she has committed to helping Gabita get an illegal abortion.
And so begins Otilia’s day. We follow her on the bus; trying to get her favourite brand of cigarettes, which happens to be on the black market; re-arranging plans with her boyfriend; trying to book a hotel room for the abortion; meeting Bebe (Vlad Ivanov), the man who will perform the abortion.
The way in which the day’s dark and disturbing events are mixed in with the minutia of Otilia’s everyday life is disconcerting. Lying appears to come very easily to her, presumably a result of the nanny state she grew up in. The ease with which she moves from running errands, to arranging an illegal abortion for a friend who is nearly five months pregnant, makes you wonder what other terrible things Otilia has had to endure just to survive.
Because Mungiu lets most of his scenes play out in a single long shot, we see Otilia’s life in greater detail than most films allow; little slices of life cut out from a very heavy day. The dinner scene in which Otilia first meets her boyfriend’s parents is one of my favourites. Otilia is packed into the middle of the crowded frame, flanked by her boyfriend’s relatives and family friends. She’s visibly uncomfortable, both physically and psychologically. The scene plays without cutting to the dinner guests who sit off-camera. Instead, the focus is on Otilia as she tries to cope with the tedious and needling conversation, all the while preoccupied with Gabita’s plight back at the hotel. We begin to feel as trapped as Otilia.
Another wonderful moment takes place when Otilia checks in to the hotel. The details of the conversation between Otilia and the receptionist are impeccable. It’s the kind of thing that might seem boring in real life, but because it’s captured on camera it becomes imbued with a larger-than-life quality; it somehow takes on greater importance and meaning.
As a result of its heavy subject matter, some of the “everyday” detail in 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is a little hard to take. The scene in which Bebe very matter-of-factly describes the procedure really upset me. I felt nauseous, faint, even shaky; completely knocked off my feet. It took me awhile to peel myself off the ropes and unfurl for the rest of the movie.
The abortion scene itself I couldn’t watch. I had hoped that it would happen off-camera, as another of the film’s upsetting moments does. But no such luck. From the little I did see, Mungiu doesn’t show anything graphic or gory. The scene was shot from a side angle. But just knowing what was going on was more than I could handle; I had to close my eyes and plug my ears for most of it.
Despite the fact that even writing about those two scenes has me feeling a little queasy, Mungiu clearly knows how to get as much impact out of what he doesn’t show as what he does. When Bebe demands money that the women don’t have before agreeing to carry out the procedure, Otilia consents to having sex with him as a tradeoff. But instead of showing us what takes place, we leave the room with Gabita and wait with her in the bathroom, sharing in her dreadful anticipation, imagining the worst.
When it’s over, Otilia rushes in to the bathroom wearing only her t-shirt. It’s perhaps the least gratuitous example of film nudity that I can think of. Gabita rushed out of the hotel room without a thought about getting dressed; her only concern was getting away from Bebe and washing him from her body.
I was shocked to discover that this film was written and directed by a man. I’m sorry if that offends, but to find that a man could have such empathy and appreciation for these things—a woman’s perspective on love and sex; her moods, which are presented here as having perfectly logical, understandable explanations; the emotional impact of a man invading her body, whether invited or not, whether medical or sexual—and that he would feel compelled to write about them, is not something you come across every day. I think it’s wonderful that he put this film out there.
I highly recommend 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. The actors are outstanding, particularly Marinca who appears in every scene and absolutely carries the film. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a recent movie with as much impact; as a testament to this, it won the top prize at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival, the Palme d’Or.
You might still be able to catch the film in some repertory theatres, and it’ll be available to rent soon. Just be forewarned that it deals with some heavy subject matter. And if you’re at all squeamish about gynecological topics, you may need to plug your ears and avert your eyes for some of the film. I’m still reeling from a couple of those scenes.
Wednesday, March 5th, 2008—Film
In the Mood for Love (Hong Kong/France 2000, Drama/Romance), Writer/Director: Wong Kar-Wai
There’s nothing like being snowed in (again) to make you cancel your plans and get back to writing your blog. It’s actually pretty cozy; I’ve got candles burning and music playing, and am almost convinced that winter would be welcome to stick around awhile longer.
I recently rented In the Mood for Love thanks to a recommendation from MF, who thought it was a good fit for some of the themes in a script I’m developing. He was right; the film was really inspiring and affirming, both on a creative level and on a human level. It’s worth renting, and watching more than once.
Set in 1960s Hong Kong, In the Mood for Love opens with two couples moving in to an apartment building on the same day. But Su Li-zhen (Maggie Cheung) and Chow Mo-wan (Tony Leung) soon find themselves spending many nights alone in their apartments, with their respective spouses frequently working late or out of town allegedly on business or family matters.
After running into one another on the way to and from take-out restaurants and solo evenings at the movies, Su Li-zhenand Chow Mo-wan eventually start spending time together as friends. Each suspects that their partners are having an affair. At first, neither says anything, but eventually they speak out about their fears. What they never give voice to is their own feelings for one another. At least, not directly.
The neighbours begin acting out scenarios between their spouses: what they imagine happened when they first got together; who might have made the first move. Gradually, the line between fantasy and reality starts to blur. We’re left wondering how far these two will take their growing attraction.
Like Once, In the Mood for Love is another beautiful study of what happens when two people with an incredible draw to one another resist acting on it. In this film, the love takes on a tangible life of its own, one that is captured in Kar-Wai’s unusual visual approach. He experiments with different styles—mixing tantalizing slow-motion with close-ups of hands and objects, sometimes showing us only the shadows of his characters—as if to reflect the way the two characters experiment with their feelings. It’s organic, changing, sometimes confusing, but always hypnotic.
One of Kar-Wai’s most striking stylistic decisions is not to show Su Li-zhen and Chow Mo-wan’s spouses. There are several dialogue scenes between each couple where the camera stays on the protagonist the entire time. It’s interesting because it completely defies what we’ve come to expect from films. Even a viewer who hasn’t studied film will subconsciously anticipate what’s coming, and when we don’t see a cut to the other character in the conversation, it challenges what we’ve come to accept as the norm.
That’s what In the Mood for Love does with romantic love itself. As we see with Su Li-zhen and Chow Mo-wan, love isn’t always where you thought you’d find it or in the form you expected it to take. And it can exist endlessly between two people who may never see one another again.
Sunday, January 20th, 2008—Film
Atonement (UK/France 2007, Drama/Romance/War), Writer: Christopher Hampton; Director: Joe Wright
I wrote Atonement off too quickly after seeing a maudlin trailer. I recently watched the film itself and was very impressed. It’s really good.
The trailer I saw pitched it as a great love story, but it’s much more interesting than that. At its core, it’s about trying to recover from trauma and the loss of innocence, trying to make amends and take responsibility for one’s actions.
Set in England and France during the 1930s and 40s, Atonement begins with a well-off group of youngsters who have little to do but put on plays and traipse about their estate in lovely dresses. But when 13-year-old Briony (Saoirse Ronan) misinterprets some exchanges between her older sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) and the housekeeper’s son Robbie (James McAvoy), her imagination, confusion and jealousy get the best of her; she ends up accusing Robbie of a terrible crime he didn’t commit. Briony’s actions change the course of all their lives, and she ultimately spends the rest of hers trying to atone for them.
This film was so much more than I expected it to be. It’s brilliantly directed; the shots are incredible, from the careful attention to detail, to the impressive five-minute plus tracking shot along Dunkirk Beach that shows the British evacuation during the Second World War. There’s a twist at the end (if, like me, you haven’t read the Ian McEwan novel from which the film was adapted). And Atonement is surprisingly funny at the beginning.
The acting is excellent, with standout performances from Ronan and McAvoy (my new crush—who wouldn’t love Mr. Tumnus from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?). McAvoy is remarkable. Watch him when he and Cecilia are reunited over lunch. She reaches out to touch him, and he tries to carry on the conversation but can’t bear to look at her. In the expression on his face and the movement of his head, you see his longing to stay with her psychically, emotionally, physically, but also the agony over what was lost and the horror of what he suffered as a result. He struggles against it, but the damage is too great; it keeps him locked inside, unable to come back to the life he knew before. To convey that much in a single moment, without words, is brilliant.
Ronan is almost eerily good in Atonement. Having that kind of depth of understanding and control over one’s craft at age 13 is astonishing. She’s currently shooting the film adaptation of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. That movie just keeps getting better the more I hear about it. It’s based on one of my favourite books, Peter Jackson is directing, and it also stars Mark Wahlberg (replacing Mark Ruffalo, sadly), Rachel Weisz, Susan Sarandon and Stanley Tucci. The Lovely Bones, along with Blindness, are the two adaptations I’m most excited to see.
Speaking of adaptations, as a final plug for Atonement, I saw the movie with GR, who has read the book and said that the film was very faithful to the novel in both content and essence. Not an easy feat!
Saturday, January 19th, 2008—Film
Once (Ireland 2007, Drama/Music/Romance), Writer/Director: John Carney
I fell in love with this movie.
Once is about two soul mates who meet in Dublin: an Irish guy (The Frames singer Glen Hansard) and a Czechoslovakian girl (Markéta Irglová). They never give their love a name—in fact, we never even learn their names—but they don’t need to. A connection like that doesn’t need a label; it just is.
The couple isn’t ready to be together physically. She has an estranged husband in the Czech Republic to whom she feels tied; he still mourns an ex-girlfriend who broke his heart. Perhaps because they hold back from each other, the romance has room to breathe and makes the film even more tantalizing for the viewer. You long for them to come together, maybe even more than they do themselves.
Once is a musical, but the most unusual I’ve ever seen. You might not even realize it’s a musical if you weren’t told. The songs, all haunting and gorgeous, flow organically from the film’s narrative. The guy is a guitarist, the girl a keyboardist, and both are singer-songwriters. We hear them sing to themselves and to each other, and later recording an album. The songs allow the couple to express their feelings to one another, even if they were written with other people in mind.
They fall in love over the course of one song, singing a duet of Falling Slowly in a music store. But Once sealed the deal with me when the girl goes for a walk at night in her pajamas, singing along with her walkman. She could have been me. Except without the howling dogs and shattering glass.
Rent this movie. It’s one-of-a-kind. I think it’s impossible not to be stirred by it. Only the most cynical of you will manage not to fall head over heels for Once. And you’ll still like it enough to call the next day to see how it’s doing. This one’s hard to get off your mind.
* * *
I can’t get this song out of my head; check it out – Falling Slowly with clips from Once. And another goodie: Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová playing the song live. I like the recorded version better, but Glen’s intro is pretty funny.
Thursday, December 6th, 2007—Film
The Believer (USA 2001, Drama), Writers: Henry Bean, Mark Jacobson; Director: Henry Bean
I rented The Believer not long ago. Ryan Gosling. Wow. He just keeps impressing me more and more. Although I’m wondering what TS, who recommended The Believer, liked so much about the film as a whole. I thought it had a few very strong points, but overall, I found it to be lacking.
Gosling stars as Danny Balint, a conflicted young man who is both Jewish and a neo-Nazi. Hence the conflict. The movie is based on the true story of Daniel Burros, a KKK member in the 1960s who killed himself when he was revealed by a New York Times reporter to be Jewish.
What I enjoyed most about the film were Gosling’s performance and some aspects of the writing. Gosling is outstanding. He portrays what is essentially a gross magnification of people’s tendency to hate in others what they hate in themselves, while still giving Danny real soul and substance. As for the script, I appreciated the way it delves into Danny’s unique perspective on Judaism. Although that often made me feel more like I was digesting a sermon than enjoying good dialogue, Danny’s background and insight brings particular resonance to his arguments about why he hates Jewish people. Knowledge is power, and here, he uses it for the greater harm.
The problem I had with The Believer is that, while the filmmakers, and of course Gosling, do a good job showing how conflicted Danny is as a young adult, I couldn’t see how he went from being a devout student of Judaism to a violent, hateful neo-Nazi. It didn’t help that the actor playing Danny as a youth doesn’t look or act anything like Gosling.
Also, the black and white fantasy sequences are a little reminiscent of made-for-TV movies. Every time the music kicked in for one of those sequences, I had to fight the urge to hit fast-forward. It just didn’t work for me.
I don’t mean to dismiss The Believer entirely, but I wouldn’t recommend watching it unless you want to study/enjoy Gosling’s performance, or try to wrap your head around some of the points Danny makes—if for no other reason than to examine how people can turn on one another so drastically and use their inside knowledge to do wrong.
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