For the first twenty or so minutes of the new Riley Stearns film, "The Art of Self Defense," I thought I had the movie's number. Jesse Eisenberg plays Casey, the film's hero, the kind of milquetoast nebbish I'd seen him play in "The Double" and "Zombieland," and so many other films. Casey works an office job and seems fine just staying under the radar and cohabitating with his dachshund. Then Casey is brutally mugged one night, destroying his sense of security and turning his life upside down. He tries to buy a gun for protection, but is delayed. Then he walks into the karate dojo of a man named Sensei (Alessandro Nivola) and things get a lot more interesting.
"The Art of Self Defense," like Stearns' last movie, "Faults," is about cult dynamics and people vying for power over each other. This time around the cult is the karate school controlled by Sensei, who espouses an inviting philosophy of self-betterment that Casey latches on to immediately. Gradually, it's revealed through Casey's interactions with the dojo's lone female student, Anna (Imogen Poots), and his new friend Henry (David Zellner), that Sensei is a power-tripping egomaniac, and his entire schtick is built on toxic masculinity, greed, and lies. "The Art of Self Defense" also reveals itself to be a black comedy, very dry, very deadpan, and with just the right amount of absurdity.
This kind of highly stylized comedy doesn't always work for me. There's often a tendency to overdo the violence or turn the characters into too-obvious caricatures. "Quirky" is a common descriptor. In this film, though everyone speaks a little too formally, and the production design makes the world a touch too drab, there's a realism to the behaviors and relationships of everyone involved that keeps things grounded. I can buy that Anna sticks around in spite of poor treatment, because she's bought into the idea that if she works hard enough that she'll ultimately prevail. And while Sensei seems to wield an inordinate amount of power and influence over his students, the movie also take time to drop those little hints about his ineffectiveness as a business owner, and the depths of his own insecurities.
Moreover, I like the way that the film portrays Casey's journey into the darkness of aggressive hypermasculinity, and his eventual redemption. There's a great sequence where he tries out a new attitude of alpha male dominance, which gets him what he wants, but also makes him look totally ridiculous. Without much overt exposition, the story lets Casey work out the dangers and iniquities of Sensei's worldview on his own, and then empowers him to do something about it, resulting in a very emotionally satisfying narrative. Yes, this is a very familiar type of character for Jesse Eisenberg to be playing, but it's also a good reminder that he's really good in these roles.
Alessandro Nivola, however, stole the movie for me as Sensei. He's so sincere about the nonsense coming out of his mouth, and seems to care so much for Casey's wellbeing at first that you can understand why Casey likes him. His growing hostility initially manifests as extreme pettiness and passive aggressiveness. The film's dialogue is full of people reciting factoids and statistics, occasionally made up, in order to bolster their authority and assert their worldview on others. Sensei does this very often, to the point where he's honed it into an intimidation tactic. When violence enters the equation, it's brutal and deglamorized, and the focus is usually on Sensei's hypocrisy in using it.
There are a lot of films like "The Art of Self Defense" out there, but few that I've been on the same wavelength with to this extent. It's not so much that these characters are familiar to me, but the way they think and the way they express themselves rings so true. I also connected with its humor in a way I typically don't with similar dark comedies, maybe because it takes aim at and employs many of the tactics of popular faux-intellectualism. And it does it so well, I may never be able to keep a straight face during a marketing pitch for martial arts classes again.
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Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Sunday, January 26, 2020
My Favorite Vittorio De Sica Film
I fully intended to write this installment about "Bicycle Thieves," one of those absolutely perfect, heartbreaking pieces of cinema that stands as a great argument for the existence of the entire medium. It is an indisputable classic, a landmark of the Neorealist movement, and the reason I tackled Vittorio De Sica's filmography in the first place. And yet, I don't get a tenth of the pleasure watching it as I do watching Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren do battle in "Marriage, Italian Style," one of De Sica's comedies from the 1960s.
For a long time I only associated De Sica with his dramatic Neorealist films. However, he was as adept at comedy as he was at drama, and became one of the major contributors to Commedia all'Italiana, a genre that rose to prominence in the late '50s. Commedia all'Italiana films are farcical, but also frequently melancholic, incorporating elements of irony and satire. And there's plenty of that in "Marriage, Italian Style," where both of the leads are playing terrible people trying to gain the upper hand in a troubled relationship. Like many other De Sica films there are elements of tragedy and highlighting social ills, but there's also a cynical attitude that's very distinct.
One reason that the film had such an impact on me is because it was my first Sophia Loren film. This wasn't the first time I'd seen her in the movie, but it was the first time I saw her in a leading role, commanding the screen as only she could. Here, she plays Filumena, an aging prostitute, who has been taken advantage of by her unfaithful lover for years, and now faces the prospect of him marrying someone else. The big twist is that she's spent all those years taking advantage of him as well, and when the time comes, she's perfectly willing to play dirty to get what she wants. Many of her actions are awful, but feel perfectly justified in context because she's up against Marcello Mastroianni's unscrupulous Domenico, who seduced her as a teenager and has been stringing her along ever since. The two end up together, more or less happily, but it takes a lot of backstabbing and arm-twisting to get there.
Loren and Mastroianni are fantastic together onscreen, both when they're in love and at odds with each other. They were frequently paired in other films, and Loren worked often with De Sica, but this was a rare occasion when all three were on the same picture. Mastroianni had also starred in Pietro Germi's "Divorce Italian Style" three years earlier, which "Marriage Italian Style" was trying to capitalize on the success of. "Divorce" was also about skewering the moral hypocrisies of the Italians, though from a different angle, and Mastroianni played a sad sack trying to escape a loveless marriage. The character of Domenico takes quite a bit from the protagonist of "Divorce" - there's the same cowardice and cravenness, despite a handsome, admirable exterior. In "Mariage," however, he's not nearly as sympathetic, essentially the villain of the piece whose despicable acts drive our heroine to desperate behavior. Domenico is shown to be redeemable, but only after extreme measures are deployed by the far more loveable Filumena.
And there's no question that this is Loren's movie. She plays Filumena at several different ages and stages of her life, from naive innocent, to traffic-stopping bombshell, to devoted, loving mother. She displays absolutely no shame about engaging in co-habitation or prostitution to get by, still considered taboo subjects by polite society at the time. Despite barely knowing how to write her own name, she survives and prevails due to her own wits and daring. And her screen presence is so charismatic and so vivacious that it's impossible not to root for her. De Sica's camera is certainly on her side, making her look sexy, virtuous, self-sacrificing, and heroic by turns.
You can see the influence of De Sica's personal experiences on the film's attitudes toward love and marriage. Like Filumena, he grew up a poor Neapolitan, who wasn't above bending the rules to get by. LIke Domenico, he had competing loyalties to different women. He essentially had two different families, after falling in love with Spanish actress Maria Mercader, but maintained the illusion of monogamy for years for the sake of his children. When he finally divorced, a difficult process for an Italian and a Roman Catholic, it was to legitimize his sons with Mercader.
"Marriage, Italian Style," unlike most of the Commedia all'Italiana films, ends happily, so it's often not counted as part of the genre. However, I don't think you could really categorize it as anything else, considering the status of its characters, their circumstances and their obsessions. And I appreciate that De Sica decided to be kind to them, letting us laugh at their foibles, but letting everyone win in the end.
What I've Seen - Vittorio De Sica
The Children Are Watching Us (1943)
Shoeshine (1946)
Bicycle Thieves (1948)
Miracle in Milan (1951)
Umberto D. (1952)
Terminal Station (1953)
Two Women (1960)
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow (1963)
Marriage Italian Style (1964)
Sunflower (1970)
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis (1970)
---
For a long time I only associated De Sica with his dramatic Neorealist films. However, he was as adept at comedy as he was at drama, and became one of the major contributors to Commedia all'Italiana, a genre that rose to prominence in the late '50s. Commedia all'Italiana films are farcical, but also frequently melancholic, incorporating elements of irony and satire. And there's plenty of that in "Marriage, Italian Style," where both of the leads are playing terrible people trying to gain the upper hand in a troubled relationship. Like many other De Sica films there are elements of tragedy and highlighting social ills, but there's also a cynical attitude that's very distinct.
One reason that the film had such an impact on me is because it was my first Sophia Loren film. This wasn't the first time I'd seen her in the movie, but it was the first time I saw her in a leading role, commanding the screen as only she could. Here, she plays Filumena, an aging prostitute, who has been taken advantage of by her unfaithful lover for years, and now faces the prospect of him marrying someone else. The big twist is that she's spent all those years taking advantage of him as well, and when the time comes, she's perfectly willing to play dirty to get what she wants. Many of her actions are awful, but feel perfectly justified in context because she's up against Marcello Mastroianni's unscrupulous Domenico, who seduced her as a teenager and has been stringing her along ever since. The two end up together, more or less happily, but it takes a lot of backstabbing and arm-twisting to get there.
Loren and Mastroianni are fantastic together onscreen, both when they're in love and at odds with each other. They were frequently paired in other films, and Loren worked often with De Sica, but this was a rare occasion when all three were on the same picture. Mastroianni had also starred in Pietro Germi's "Divorce Italian Style" three years earlier, which "Marriage Italian Style" was trying to capitalize on the success of. "Divorce" was also about skewering the moral hypocrisies of the Italians, though from a different angle, and Mastroianni played a sad sack trying to escape a loveless marriage. The character of Domenico takes quite a bit from the protagonist of "Divorce" - there's the same cowardice and cravenness, despite a handsome, admirable exterior. In "Mariage," however, he's not nearly as sympathetic, essentially the villain of the piece whose despicable acts drive our heroine to desperate behavior. Domenico is shown to be redeemable, but only after extreme measures are deployed by the far more loveable Filumena.
And there's no question that this is Loren's movie. She plays Filumena at several different ages and stages of her life, from naive innocent, to traffic-stopping bombshell, to devoted, loving mother. She displays absolutely no shame about engaging in co-habitation or prostitution to get by, still considered taboo subjects by polite society at the time. Despite barely knowing how to write her own name, she survives and prevails due to her own wits and daring. And her screen presence is so charismatic and so vivacious that it's impossible not to root for her. De Sica's camera is certainly on her side, making her look sexy, virtuous, self-sacrificing, and heroic by turns.
You can see the influence of De Sica's personal experiences on the film's attitudes toward love and marriage. Like Filumena, he grew up a poor Neapolitan, who wasn't above bending the rules to get by. LIke Domenico, he had competing loyalties to different women. He essentially had two different families, after falling in love with Spanish actress Maria Mercader, but maintained the illusion of monogamy for years for the sake of his children. When he finally divorced, a difficult process for an Italian and a Roman Catholic, it was to legitimize his sons with Mercader.
"Marriage, Italian Style," unlike most of the Commedia all'Italiana films, ends happily, so it's often not counted as part of the genre. However, I don't think you could really categorize it as anything else, considering the status of its characters, their circumstances and their obsessions. And I appreciate that De Sica decided to be kind to them, letting us laugh at their foibles, but letting everyone win in the end.
What I've Seen - Vittorio De Sica
The Children Are Watching Us (1943)
Shoeshine (1946)
Bicycle Thieves (1948)
Miracle in Milan (1951)
Umberto D. (1952)
Terminal Station (1953)
Two Women (1960)
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow (1963)
Marriage Italian Style (1964)
Sunflower (1970)
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis (1970)
---
Friday, January 24, 2020
Missmediajunkie v. The Arrowverse
I haven't actually watched any of the CW's DC Universe shows since I skipped out on "Green Arrow" after two episodes, deciding it was way too teen-oriented for me. But when all the hype and excitement for the "Crisis on Infinite Earths" super-crossover of every piece of DC media you could name blew up a few months ago, I thought it would be fun to take a look. I mean, I've always been a DC fangirl at heart, and I'm pretty up-to-speed on my comic book lore. I thought it would be fun to see if I could catch all the cameos and references, and maybe see if these shows had gotten to a place where I might be more interested in jumping in.
The answer is no. 100%, absolutely, not. The Arrowverse and I are totally incompatible. Spoilers for "Crisis" ahead.
I watched all five episodes of "Crisis on Infinite Earths" just to make sure I was giving this a fair shot, technically one episode each of "Supergirl," "Batwoman," "Arrow," "The Flash," and "Legends of Tomorrow." Let's get the basics out of the way first. If you are new to these series and these characters, this is not a good place to start.
If you're watching just for the crossovers to other DC media, I'm afraid there's not much to see. Almost all the crossovers are tiny cameos, often limited to only a few seconds. The big exceptions are as follows: the "Smallville" actors and Kevin Conroy in the second episode, Lucifer and John Constantine in the third, and the Ezra Miller Flash in the fourth. Anyone else with a significant role has already been established in-universe, like the new Superman and Lois, Black Lightning, and Jonah Hex. Yes, there are nods to "Titans," "Legion of Doom," "Swamp Thing," "Birds of Prey," the original 1966 "Batman," and many more, but there's no real interaction with any of the characters or concepts.
So what's the actual plot of this thing? DC Comics fans will remember the "Crisis" storyline brought together heroes from multiple realities to fight against a reality-destroying villain called the Anti-Monitor. It was a way to reboot the whole DC continuity and kill off a lot of characters. The Arrowverse version mostly follows the same plot points, though the major heroes involved are different. Original comics writer Marv Wolfman even has a writing credit on the fourth episode, and a cameo in the fifth. And frankly, the whole tone of the miniseries is very comic book. Heroes are larger than life, quippy but unironically forthright and true. Characters talk about being specially chosen "Paragons" tasked with fighting the Anti-Monitor with a straight face. The Dawn of Time is apparently a place, one that looks an awful lot like a random hillside run through a green filter.
I remembered "Arrow" being a little on the goofy side, but I wasn't prepared for how goofy "Crisis on Infinite Earths" would be. The productions values are half a step above later season of "Power Rangers," with cheesy special effects, wacky fight sequences, and everyone decked out in aggressively stylized, colorful, impractical costumes. Batwoman is sporting cherry ICEE colored hair. John Cryer is playing Lex Luthor in a bald cap and looks hysterical. The writing is on the exact same level as animated DC content like "Justice League" and "Young Justice," except with more emphasis on the romantic relationships. Yet, the performances by the live-action actors are somehow even more cartoonish. I found it very hard to suspend my disbelief long enough to enjoy any of it.
And it dawned on me, the Arrowverse is made for kids. Moreover, It's perfectly fine and appropriate that it's made for kids. I probably would have loved these shows in my junior high years and I'm very glad that the franchise is doing so well that there are all these connected shows running for multiple years on the CW with more on the way. However, they definitely aren't to my taste. The dialogue is too stilted, the emotions too earnest, and the melodrama too silly for my nearly forty-something year-old noggin to take. I can't even enjoy it for the campiness, like I can with the '66 "Batman." Yes, it was nice to see Brandon Routh back in the Superman suit, and I liked the little coda we got for "Smallville," but I plan to keep my distance from here on out.
It was a good reality check to be confronted with the fact that a big chunk of superhero media is still operating on this level - the equivalent of the cheesy B-movies made on shoestring budgets from when I was a kid. I've been so caught up in "Watchmen" and "The Boys" and other superhero media aimed at genre-savvy grown-ups, I forgot that the old school, kid-centric part of the superhero ecosystem is still alive and well.
"Crisis on Infinite Earths" is no "Infinity Wars," but in context, it's exactly what it should be.
---
The answer is no. 100%, absolutely, not. The Arrowverse and I are totally incompatible. Spoilers for "Crisis" ahead.
I watched all five episodes of "Crisis on Infinite Earths" just to make sure I was giving this a fair shot, technically one episode each of "Supergirl," "Batwoman," "Arrow," "The Flash," and "Legends of Tomorrow." Let's get the basics out of the way first. If you are new to these series and these characters, this is not a good place to start.
If you're watching just for the crossovers to other DC media, I'm afraid there's not much to see. Almost all the crossovers are tiny cameos, often limited to only a few seconds. The big exceptions are as follows: the "Smallville" actors and Kevin Conroy in the second episode, Lucifer and John Constantine in the third, and the Ezra Miller Flash in the fourth. Anyone else with a significant role has already been established in-universe, like the new Superman and Lois, Black Lightning, and Jonah Hex. Yes, there are nods to "Titans," "Legion of Doom," "Swamp Thing," "Birds of Prey," the original 1966 "Batman," and many more, but there's no real interaction with any of the characters or concepts.
So what's the actual plot of this thing? DC Comics fans will remember the "Crisis" storyline brought together heroes from multiple realities to fight against a reality-destroying villain called the Anti-Monitor. It was a way to reboot the whole DC continuity and kill off a lot of characters. The Arrowverse version mostly follows the same plot points, though the major heroes involved are different. Original comics writer Marv Wolfman even has a writing credit on the fourth episode, and a cameo in the fifth. And frankly, the whole tone of the miniseries is very comic book. Heroes are larger than life, quippy but unironically forthright and true. Characters talk about being specially chosen "Paragons" tasked with fighting the Anti-Monitor with a straight face. The Dawn of Time is apparently a place, one that looks an awful lot like a random hillside run through a green filter.
I remembered "Arrow" being a little on the goofy side, but I wasn't prepared for how goofy "Crisis on Infinite Earths" would be. The productions values are half a step above later season of "Power Rangers," with cheesy special effects, wacky fight sequences, and everyone decked out in aggressively stylized, colorful, impractical costumes. Batwoman is sporting cherry ICEE colored hair. John Cryer is playing Lex Luthor in a bald cap and looks hysterical. The writing is on the exact same level as animated DC content like "Justice League" and "Young Justice," except with more emphasis on the romantic relationships. Yet, the performances by the live-action actors are somehow even more cartoonish. I found it very hard to suspend my disbelief long enough to enjoy any of it.
And it dawned on me, the Arrowverse is made for kids. Moreover, It's perfectly fine and appropriate that it's made for kids. I probably would have loved these shows in my junior high years and I'm very glad that the franchise is doing so well that there are all these connected shows running for multiple years on the CW with more on the way. However, they definitely aren't to my taste. The dialogue is too stilted, the emotions too earnest, and the melodrama too silly for my nearly forty-something year-old noggin to take. I can't even enjoy it for the campiness, like I can with the '66 "Batman." Yes, it was nice to see Brandon Routh back in the Superman suit, and I liked the little coda we got for "Smallville," but I plan to keep my distance from here on out.
It was a good reality check to be confronted with the fact that a big chunk of superhero media is still operating on this level - the equivalent of the cheesy B-movies made on shoestring budgets from when I was a kid. I've been so caught up in "Watchmen" and "The Boys" and other superhero media aimed at genre-savvy grown-ups, I forgot that the old school, kid-centric part of the superhero ecosystem is still alive and well.
"Crisis on Infinite Earths" is no "Infinity Wars," but in context, it's exactly what it should be.
---
Wednesday, January 22, 2020
"Aladdin" and "The Lion King"… Again
I'm not sure what kind of morbid curiosity keeps making me watch these movies. A very few have turned out to be decent, but mostly the live-action Disney remakes have been middling to awful. Despite tons of expensive CGI, they never look anywhere near as good as the hand-drawn originals. Despite the famous names involved, precious little charm or originality comes through. The filmmakers outright lift full scenes and sequences, shot for shot, with little to distinguish them except for a new coat of digital paint. There's no artistic justification for these movies to exist, but plenty of economic justification, of course.
"The Lion King" is the worst offender to date, with no new characters, a single new song, and only a few minor adjustments to the existing script and characters to accommodate a new voice cast. Photorealistic CGI animals on beautiful live action backgrounds fill in for the cartoon critters, and it's a very odd experience to see the opening "Circle of Life" sequence recreated in this way. The visuals are certainly impressive, aping recent high profile nature documentaries, but anyone who's seen the 1994 version will probably find it impossible to stop making negative comparisons. The more realistic animals are necessarily less expressive. Even with Beyonce and Donald Glover playing the adult Nala and Simba, the songs are more lackluster. The remake is also considerably longer, with unnecessarily expanded scenes and performances.
I appreciate the effort that went into making all of these CGI animals look their best, and many of the resulting images are breathtaking. Some of the performances, especially for minor characters like Pumbaa (Seth Rogen), Zazu (John Oliver), and Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), have enough deviation from the original to be enjoyable in their own right. Jeff Nathanson's script beefs up some of the themes and downplays the sillier aspects of the original. Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) benefits the most from this, less of a caricature and more of a despicable schemer. However, every single time I heard James Earl Jones as Mufasa, largely repeating the same lines we all remember, I found myself cringing. It was reverse uncanny valley on so many different levels.
I have no idea why anyone who enjoys the 1994 "Lion King" would watch the 2019 version. However, I think you could make a case for the 2019 "Aladdin" having some appeal. It's not an especially strong feature, but at least it's different from the animated version in some important ways. The biggest change is that Will Smith is playing the Genie and making no attempt to do a Robin Williams impression. And he's perfectly fine just being Will Smith in "Hitch" mode, wearing ridiculous costumes, and gamely trying to sing along to all the old songs. There's also some significant reworking of the story and characters, putting Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott) in a more prominent role, and giving her a funny handmaiden named Dalia (Nasim Pedrad) for the Genie to romance.
One of the big selling points of the new version is the almost entirely non-white cast, lead by Smith and Mena Massoud as Aladdin. There's some fudging of cultural details, and Agrabah seems to now be the Middle East by way of Bollywood, but it's still a nice thing to see after too many years of "Prince of Persia" style casting. Massoud is a little rough, and Marwen Kenzari's more grounded take on Jafar is pretty bland, but they function decently enough. There are recreations of sequences from the 1992 "Aladdin" constantly, but also notable new scenes and some narrative space carved out so that the new versions of the characters ring true as different personalities. I enjoyed the new bits where Aladdin clumsily attempts to play a prince and court Jasmine.
Guy Ritchie is almost totally invisible here as director, aside from some aggressively over-edited chase sequences toward the beginning. Instead, he's mostly just orchestrating the pageantry and obnoxious amounts of CGI. To be fair, some of the recreations like the "Friend Like Me" number are well adapted, energetic, and pretty fun to watch. Then you have the awful "A Whole New World" sequence, where everything is too dark, and the flying carpet is obviously not a carpet.
Still, considering the track record of the live-action adaptations so far, I'm inclined to give "Aladdin" a mild pass. It's very derivative and rough around the edges, but at least it's not the slavish copy that "The Lion King" too frequently is.
---
"The Lion King" is the worst offender to date, with no new characters, a single new song, and only a few minor adjustments to the existing script and characters to accommodate a new voice cast. Photorealistic CGI animals on beautiful live action backgrounds fill in for the cartoon critters, and it's a very odd experience to see the opening "Circle of Life" sequence recreated in this way. The visuals are certainly impressive, aping recent high profile nature documentaries, but anyone who's seen the 1994 version will probably find it impossible to stop making negative comparisons. The more realistic animals are necessarily less expressive. Even with Beyonce and Donald Glover playing the adult Nala and Simba, the songs are more lackluster. The remake is also considerably longer, with unnecessarily expanded scenes and performances.
I appreciate the effort that went into making all of these CGI animals look their best, and many of the resulting images are breathtaking. Some of the performances, especially for minor characters like Pumbaa (Seth Rogen), Zazu (John Oliver), and Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), have enough deviation from the original to be enjoyable in their own right. Jeff Nathanson's script beefs up some of the themes and downplays the sillier aspects of the original. Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) benefits the most from this, less of a caricature and more of a despicable schemer. However, every single time I heard James Earl Jones as Mufasa, largely repeating the same lines we all remember, I found myself cringing. It was reverse uncanny valley on so many different levels.
I have no idea why anyone who enjoys the 1994 "Lion King" would watch the 2019 version. However, I think you could make a case for the 2019 "Aladdin" having some appeal. It's not an especially strong feature, but at least it's different from the animated version in some important ways. The biggest change is that Will Smith is playing the Genie and making no attempt to do a Robin Williams impression. And he's perfectly fine just being Will Smith in "Hitch" mode, wearing ridiculous costumes, and gamely trying to sing along to all the old songs. There's also some significant reworking of the story and characters, putting Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott) in a more prominent role, and giving her a funny handmaiden named Dalia (Nasim Pedrad) for the Genie to romance.
One of the big selling points of the new version is the almost entirely non-white cast, lead by Smith and Mena Massoud as Aladdin. There's some fudging of cultural details, and Agrabah seems to now be the Middle East by way of Bollywood, but it's still a nice thing to see after too many years of "Prince of Persia" style casting. Massoud is a little rough, and Marwen Kenzari's more grounded take on Jafar is pretty bland, but they function decently enough. There are recreations of sequences from the 1992 "Aladdin" constantly, but also notable new scenes and some narrative space carved out so that the new versions of the characters ring true as different personalities. I enjoyed the new bits where Aladdin clumsily attempts to play a prince and court Jasmine.
Guy Ritchie is almost totally invisible here as director, aside from some aggressively over-edited chase sequences toward the beginning. Instead, he's mostly just orchestrating the pageantry and obnoxious amounts of CGI. To be fair, some of the recreations like the "Friend Like Me" number are well adapted, energetic, and pretty fun to watch. Then you have the awful "A Whole New World" sequence, where everything is too dark, and the flying carpet is obviously not a carpet.
Still, considering the track record of the live-action adaptations so far, I'm inclined to give "Aladdin" a mild pass. It's very derivative and rough around the edges, but at least it's not the slavish copy that "The Lion King" too frequently is.
---
Sunday, January 19, 2020
My Top Ten Films of 1971
This is part of my continuing series looking back on films from the years before I began this blog.
The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
A Clockwork Orange - I'm less and less thrilled with the content of the film as years go by, but the style continues to impress. The production design, the electronica soundtrack, the iconic performance of Malcolm McDowell, and the fearless use of sex and violence - it's all so bold and disturbing and impossible to look away from. "Clockwork Orange" was one of the films that marked Kubrick as a dangerous filmmaker when I was young, but it was a title that I sought out as soon as I could, because what little I saw of the film from clips and stills was irresistible. There's still nothing else quite like it.
Fiddler on the Roof - A childhood favorite, and one I feel has held up beautifully over the years. Norman Jewison mounts a wonderful adaptation of "Fiddler" for the screen, with Topol reprising his stage success as Tevye. There's so much care and fidelity in the adaptation, from the carefully orchestrated score, to the fully realized little town of Anatevka. The cast was comprised mainly of character actors who would never get roles this good again, and certainly made the most of it. What could have been a caricature of the Orthodox Jewish culture instead feels celebratory and uncommonly affectionate.
The Emigrants - Jan Troell sends 19th century characters played by Sweden's most beloved actors, Liv Ullman and Max von Sydow, on a long and harrowing journey from a poor Swedish village to the unknown American frontier. It's a deeply affecting experience, and the way Troell presents it, an unusually immersive one. The naturalistic acting, the cinematography, and the novel point of view all help to make this a unique American narrative. Even the sequel, "The New Land," never quite manages to capture the same sense of a familiar story told from a surprising, different perspective.
Walkabout - A career defining work from Nicholas Roeg, who managed to capture not only the physical expanse and desolation of the Australian outback, but much of the psychological nature of it as well. I admire the way that it portrays an contrasts the natural and manmade environments, using various visual and aural elements. Especially important is the lack of exposition, allowing the film to simply speak for itself. This invites the viewer to explore the alien landscape along with the young wanderers.
Harold and Maude - A strange, perfect love story between a pair of oddballs who happen to be decades apart in age. It's a rambling Bay Area movie, a minimalist Cat Stevens musical, a very black comedy, and probably the best thing that Hal Ashby ever made. Bud Cort gets plenty of laughs, but it's character actress Ruth Gordon as the greatest manic pixie dream grandma who ever lived, who steals the picture through and through. At the time of release, nobody understood its peculiar charms except for its fellow oddballs, and all these years later, it's still the oddballs that have kept its cult status going.
Carnal Knowledge - This Mike Nichols picture kicked up all kinds of legal and social fuss due to its adult content and frank depiction of it. However, it's that straightforward, cynical attitude toward sex and intimacy that have kept the film remarkably current. It's arguably more relevant now than ever, with its portrayal of toxic masculinity the terrible long term effects. Despite the relative obscurity, this has one of Jack Nicholson's best performances, and probably his darkest. However, my favorite moment is the monologue delivered by Art Garfunkle, a withering takedown of monogamy and married life.
Duel - Technically this is a television movie, though it had a theatrical run overseas. Still, who could deny the power of Steven Spielberg's beloved thriller about a lone motorist versus a relentless trucker? The film is so simple, but generates terrific tension. The menace of the unseen trucker plays on our primal fears, and Spielberg wisely never gives the viewer more information than absolutely necessary. This can be seen as a test run of sorts for "Jaws," but I actually prefer "Duel" for its simplicity and its plausibility. Man-eating sharks were an invention of the filmmakers, but lunatic drivers are all too common.
The French Connection - This was the first film where I found the experience significantly improved with rewatches. Gene Hackman as Popeye Doyle is awful, yet magnetic as the uptight police detective who gets the job done. Fernando Rey, cast by lucky accident, is an excellent mastermind figure. And then there's the sheer gutsiness of those action sequences, especially the chase scene with the elevated train and several near misses with real New York City traffic. The degree of realism is exceptional, achieved by involving many of the real officers involved with the original smuggling case in the making of the film.
The Boy Friend - Ken Russell's satirical pastiche of Golden Age Hollywood musicals and small town vaudeville is too much of everything. However, this is one of those times where too much of everything works, especially when it comes to indulgent fantasy sequences, elaborate production numbers, and plenty of comedic mishaps. Underneath all the glitz and garishness, there's a genuine affection for all the old tricks and bygone showmanship. The winsome debutante, Twiggy, seems like she was born to play this part, and it's a mystery why she hardly ever appeared in any other films.
A New Leaf - I never understood why Walter Matthau was cast in so many romantic comedies in this era until I came across "A New Leaf," where he plays an unscrupulous playboy who gets involved with the wrong woman. He's perfectly suited to playing the jerk, the con-man, the exasperated caretaker, and finally the reluctantly reformed hero. And then there's Elaine May, who not only acted the part of the hapless Henrietta to perfection, but wrote and directed the film as well. The comedy is dark and cynical, but in a funny way it feels like it earned its begrudging moments of sentiment in the end.
Honorable mention
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
---
The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
A Clockwork Orange - I'm less and less thrilled with the content of the film as years go by, but the style continues to impress. The production design, the electronica soundtrack, the iconic performance of Malcolm McDowell, and the fearless use of sex and violence - it's all so bold and disturbing and impossible to look away from. "Clockwork Orange" was one of the films that marked Kubrick as a dangerous filmmaker when I was young, but it was a title that I sought out as soon as I could, because what little I saw of the film from clips and stills was irresistible. There's still nothing else quite like it.
Fiddler on the Roof - A childhood favorite, and one I feel has held up beautifully over the years. Norman Jewison mounts a wonderful adaptation of "Fiddler" for the screen, with Topol reprising his stage success as Tevye. There's so much care and fidelity in the adaptation, from the carefully orchestrated score, to the fully realized little town of Anatevka. The cast was comprised mainly of character actors who would never get roles this good again, and certainly made the most of it. What could have been a caricature of the Orthodox Jewish culture instead feels celebratory and uncommonly affectionate.
The Emigrants - Jan Troell sends 19th century characters played by Sweden's most beloved actors, Liv Ullman and Max von Sydow, on a long and harrowing journey from a poor Swedish village to the unknown American frontier. It's a deeply affecting experience, and the way Troell presents it, an unusually immersive one. The naturalistic acting, the cinematography, and the novel point of view all help to make this a unique American narrative. Even the sequel, "The New Land," never quite manages to capture the same sense of a familiar story told from a surprising, different perspective.
Walkabout - A career defining work from Nicholas Roeg, who managed to capture not only the physical expanse and desolation of the Australian outback, but much of the psychological nature of it as well. I admire the way that it portrays an contrasts the natural and manmade environments, using various visual and aural elements. Especially important is the lack of exposition, allowing the film to simply speak for itself. This invites the viewer to explore the alien landscape along with the young wanderers.
Harold and Maude - A strange, perfect love story between a pair of oddballs who happen to be decades apart in age. It's a rambling Bay Area movie, a minimalist Cat Stevens musical, a very black comedy, and probably the best thing that Hal Ashby ever made. Bud Cort gets plenty of laughs, but it's character actress Ruth Gordon as the greatest manic pixie dream grandma who ever lived, who steals the picture through and through. At the time of release, nobody understood its peculiar charms except for its fellow oddballs, and all these years later, it's still the oddballs that have kept its cult status going.
Carnal Knowledge - This Mike Nichols picture kicked up all kinds of legal and social fuss due to its adult content and frank depiction of it. However, it's that straightforward, cynical attitude toward sex and intimacy that have kept the film remarkably current. It's arguably more relevant now than ever, with its portrayal of toxic masculinity the terrible long term effects. Despite the relative obscurity, this has one of Jack Nicholson's best performances, and probably his darkest. However, my favorite moment is the monologue delivered by Art Garfunkle, a withering takedown of monogamy and married life.
Duel - Technically this is a television movie, though it had a theatrical run overseas. Still, who could deny the power of Steven Spielberg's beloved thriller about a lone motorist versus a relentless trucker? The film is so simple, but generates terrific tension. The menace of the unseen trucker plays on our primal fears, and Spielberg wisely never gives the viewer more information than absolutely necessary. This can be seen as a test run of sorts for "Jaws," but I actually prefer "Duel" for its simplicity and its plausibility. Man-eating sharks were an invention of the filmmakers, but lunatic drivers are all too common.
The French Connection - This was the first film where I found the experience significantly improved with rewatches. Gene Hackman as Popeye Doyle is awful, yet magnetic as the uptight police detective who gets the job done. Fernando Rey, cast by lucky accident, is an excellent mastermind figure. And then there's the sheer gutsiness of those action sequences, especially the chase scene with the elevated train and several near misses with real New York City traffic. The degree of realism is exceptional, achieved by involving many of the real officers involved with the original smuggling case in the making of the film.
The Boy Friend - Ken Russell's satirical pastiche of Golden Age Hollywood musicals and small town vaudeville is too much of everything. However, this is one of those times where too much of everything works, especially when it comes to indulgent fantasy sequences, elaborate production numbers, and plenty of comedic mishaps. Underneath all the glitz and garishness, there's a genuine affection for all the old tricks and bygone showmanship. The winsome debutante, Twiggy, seems like she was born to play this part, and it's a mystery why she hardly ever appeared in any other films.
A New Leaf - I never understood why Walter Matthau was cast in so many romantic comedies in this era until I came across "A New Leaf," where he plays an unscrupulous playboy who gets involved with the wrong woman. He's perfectly suited to playing the jerk, the con-man, the exasperated caretaker, and finally the reluctantly reformed hero. And then there's Elaine May, who not only acted the part of the hapless Henrietta to perfection, but wrote and directed the film as well. The comedy is dark and cynical, but in a funny way it feels like it earned its begrudging moments of sentiment in the end.
Honorable mention
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
---
Friday, January 17, 2020
About that Evil Killer Clown Movie, Chapter 2
The first Andy Muchietti "IT" film had a couple of good things going for it - the excellent cast of youngsters, the potent '80s nostalgia, some inventive scare sequences, and that terrifying Bill Skarsgaard performance. Most of those things are in the second "IT" film, but not nearly to the same extent, and don't work nearly as well. Certain changes couldn't be avoided - the action is moved twenty-seven years later, in the present day, so all of the characters are now adults. However, I take issue with some of the basic adaptation choices Muschietti and company made here, mostly tied to the film's structure and emphasis on certain characters.
The grown up Losers, including Bill (James McAvoy), Beverly (Jessica Chastain), Ben (Jay Ryan), Eddie (James Ransome), Stan (Andy Bean), and Richie (Bill Hader), are called back to their hometown of Derry, Maine, by Mike (Isaiah Mustafa), who never left it. Pennywise has returned, and Mike believes he has found a way to stop him. This requires all the Losers to revisit their pasts, remember other events from the summer they fought Pennywise, and finally put some old ghosts to rest. Pennywise isn't going to make it easy for them, however, enlisting their old bully Henry Bowers (Teach Grant) and a few other familiar faces to help torment them.
Clearly, there wasn't enough time to fully flesh out all the stories of seven main characters in one film, so I'm not surprised that Bill's wife and Bev's husband have mostly been left on the cutting room floor. However, I do find it strange that the emphasis has shifted significantly, clearly favoring Richie over Bill, who was the lead in the first film. Now, Bill Hader's performance is easily the standout one here, so it's to the movie's benefit, but that also means it feels less of a piece with the previous "IT." Gary Dauberman's screenplay also introduces some different bits of backstory and tries to tie up loose ends in a way that I found less than successful. There's a whole lot of emphasis on remembering the past, and not enough on overcoming it.
Most of the problem really comes down to the way the film is structured. It runs nearly three hours in length, and a huge portion of it is taken up by the individual Losers going off on their own to revisit their own traumas, and have personal scare sequences with Pennywise, before coming back together for the big showdown. Flashback sequences are generously interspersed throughout, which sometimes works, and sometimes just serves to drag things out and remind the viewer of how much better the first film was. Most of the scares here aren't as scary as in the first film, possibly because the main characters are now more thinly characterized adults, or possibly because of the way the scares are deployed. I found it very telling that a big, elaborate scare sequence involving CGI monsters coming out of fortune cookies is far less effective than the same scene in the old 1990 miniseries version of "IT," achieved with puppets.
There's an abundance of CGI here, which certainly helps make the monsters and the subterranean lairs and spooks houses look more impressive, but not more scary. This approach isn't all bad, though. The movie becomes more enjoyable as a supernatural action thriller in the last act, and I appreciate being able to see some concepts from the novel realized in a way that only a big blockbuster budget could afford. Despite all of my misgivings, the movie is a lot of fun once it gets past all the drawn-out nostalgia trips. There are a few good scares to be found, the most upsetting one involving Pennywise luring another unsuspecting kid to their doom. Callbacks and cameos provide pleasant distractions, including a whole sequence lifted from John Carpenter's "The Thing." Once you accept that "Chapter 2" isn't going to be able to live up to "Chapter 1," it goes down a lot easier.
I feel bad that most of the excellent adult cast wasn't given that much to do. McAvoy is fantastic, and I wonder if the movie would have been significantly improved if it had just centered everything around Bill the way it was originally written. James Ransome and Jessica Chastain are also fun to root for, and uncanny matches for their younger counterparts. Bill Hader, however, just takes over the movie and I guess I can't blame the filmmakers for letting him. He plays the adult Richie as a deeply screwed up comedian, who hides behind one-liners and asshole humor. His story easily could have been a smaller part of the film, but it also generates some unexpected heart and pathos. It's the one big thing this adaptation does that really distinguishes this version, and it works.
I just wish as much care could have been shown to the other characters' stories. Pennywise included.
---
The grown up Losers, including Bill (James McAvoy), Beverly (Jessica Chastain), Ben (Jay Ryan), Eddie (James Ransome), Stan (Andy Bean), and Richie (Bill Hader), are called back to their hometown of Derry, Maine, by Mike (Isaiah Mustafa), who never left it. Pennywise has returned, and Mike believes he has found a way to stop him. This requires all the Losers to revisit their pasts, remember other events from the summer they fought Pennywise, and finally put some old ghosts to rest. Pennywise isn't going to make it easy for them, however, enlisting their old bully Henry Bowers (Teach Grant) and a few other familiar faces to help torment them.
Clearly, there wasn't enough time to fully flesh out all the stories of seven main characters in one film, so I'm not surprised that Bill's wife and Bev's husband have mostly been left on the cutting room floor. However, I do find it strange that the emphasis has shifted significantly, clearly favoring Richie over Bill, who was the lead in the first film. Now, Bill Hader's performance is easily the standout one here, so it's to the movie's benefit, but that also means it feels less of a piece with the previous "IT." Gary Dauberman's screenplay also introduces some different bits of backstory and tries to tie up loose ends in a way that I found less than successful. There's a whole lot of emphasis on remembering the past, and not enough on overcoming it.
Most of the problem really comes down to the way the film is structured. It runs nearly three hours in length, and a huge portion of it is taken up by the individual Losers going off on their own to revisit their own traumas, and have personal scare sequences with Pennywise, before coming back together for the big showdown. Flashback sequences are generously interspersed throughout, which sometimes works, and sometimes just serves to drag things out and remind the viewer of how much better the first film was. Most of the scares here aren't as scary as in the first film, possibly because the main characters are now more thinly characterized adults, or possibly because of the way the scares are deployed. I found it very telling that a big, elaborate scare sequence involving CGI monsters coming out of fortune cookies is far less effective than the same scene in the old 1990 miniseries version of "IT," achieved with puppets.
There's an abundance of CGI here, which certainly helps make the monsters and the subterranean lairs and spooks houses look more impressive, but not more scary. This approach isn't all bad, though. The movie becomes more enjoyable as a supernatural action thriller in the last act, and I appreciate being able to see some concepts from the novel realized in a way that only a big blockbuster budget could afford. Despite all of my misgivings, the movie is a lot of fun once it gets past all the drawn-out nostalgia trips. There are a few good scares to be found, the most upsetting one involving Pennywise luring another unsuspecting kid to their doom. Callbacks and cameos provide pleasant distractions, including a whole sequence lifted from John Carpenter's "The Thing." Once you accept that "Chapter 2" isn't going to be able to live up to "Chapter 1," it goes down a lot easier.
I feel bad that most of the excellent adult cast wasn't given that much to do. McAvoy is fantastic, and I wonder if the movie would have been significantly improved if it had just centered everything around Bill the way it was originally written. James Ransome and Jessica Chastain are also fun to root for, and uncanny matches for their younger counterparts. Bill Hader, however, just takes over the movie and I guess I can't blame the filmmakers for letting him. He plays the adult Richie as a deeply screwed up comedian, who hides behind one-liners and asshole humor. His story easily could have been a smaller part of the film, but it also generates some unexpected heart and pathos. It's the one big thing this adaptation does that really distinguishes this version, and it works.
I just wish as much care could have been shown to the other characters' stories. Pennywise included.
---
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Confessions of a Variable Playback Speed Enthusiast
Recently, Netflix has been getting some flack for announcing that they're testing the ability to use variable playback speeds with their service. This would allow the user to play shows and movies slower or faster. Services like Youtube and most media players have had this function for ages. However, variable playback speed is also closely associated with the unfortunate practice of some media outlets speeding up content to make room for more commercials, often with hilarious or annoying results. I sympathize with creators like Judd Apatow who don't want Netflix and others messing with the presentation of their output. However, I've been a happy abuser of variable playback speeds for years.
It started with silent films. During my early days of watching all the important old foundational cinema I could get my hands on, I found silent films were a real challenge to stay engaged with. They were often very slow paced melodramas, and only notable for certain technical advances or historical value. The acting was crude and often involved a lot of dithering around onscreen between the intertitles. I started watching silents on my computer and slowly started experimenting with the playback speed. To be clear, I had a DVD player at the time that had a variable playback speed function, and I used it, but it was when I started using a purely digital media player with certain keyboard shortcuts that I really started taking full advantage of the feature.
I found that most silent films playing at 2x normal speeds are still quite watchable. I got up to 4x speeds on some titles, usually the experimental ones. I didn't watch every silent film like this, but I always liked having it as an option, especially when faced with having to suffer through something like D.W. Griffith's "Birth of a Nation." Frankly, I'm never going to feel bad about fast-forwarding through racist blackface antics. Slowly, I started experimenting with playing sound features in variable speeds. There's a lot less wiggle room here before dialogue becomes unintelligible and performances are impacted, but I found that 1.25x and sometimes 1.5x speeds work fine for me. Often, the change isn't even all that noticeable. Voices are higher pitched and movements become jerkier, but sometimes I forget I even made the adjustment. For a while, once I found my comfort zone, I was watching practically everything at 1.25x speed just as a time saver, but this phase didn't last long. After all, why would I want to speed through I movie that I'm enjoying?
These days I really only speed up a film as a last resort, often to enable my own completionist tendencies. Occasionally I'll come across a movie or show that I watch and dislike. I'm ready to give up on it, but I've sunk too much time into it already, and I don't want to abandon it. But there's still an hour or two hours left to go. That's when I'll start toggling to higher speeds, sometimes to get through a slow patch, or sometimes to just hustle through to the end. As I've been watching a lot of super-sized epics from the '60s lately, this situation has been coming up more often. Also, I admit I've resorted to this with certain television shows that have gone off the rails in their final seasons.
Ironically, I've been consuming other media at either sped up or slowed down rates completely by accident. I listen to most of my podcasts with an older model Ipod, and like to plug it into my car's sound system to listen when I'm driving. However, the podcasts often get sped up or slowed down due to screwy interface issues, and I don't know how to fix it. This has lead to me listening to many episodes of Filmspotting and Blank Check as performed by Alvin and the Chipmunks, or where everyone has a chest cold.
Honestly, it's not bad.
---
It started with silent films. During my early days of watching all the important old foundational cinema I could get my hands on, I found silent films were a real challenge to stay engaged with. They were often very slow paced melodramas, and only notable for certain technical advances or historical value. The acting was crude and often involved a lot of dithering around onscreen between the intertitles. I started watching silents on my computer and slowly started experimenting with the playback speed. To be clear, I had a DVD player at the time that had a variable playback speed function, and I used it, but it was when I started using a purely digital media player with certain keyboard shortcuts that I really started taking full advantage of the feature.
I found that most silent films playing at 2x normal speeds are still quite watchable. I got up to 4x speeds on some titles, usually the experimental ones. I didn't watch every silent film like this, but I always liked having it as an option, especially when faced with having to suffer through something like D.W. Griffith's "Birth of a Nation." Frankly, I'm never going to feel bad about fast-forwarding through racist blackface antics. Slowly, I started experimenting with playing sound features in variable speeds. There's a lot less wiggle room here before dialogue becomes unintelligible and performances are impacted, but I found that 1.25x and sometimes 1.5x speeds work fine for me. Often, the change isn't even all that noticeable. Voices are higher pitched and movements become jerkier, but sometimes I forget I even made the adjustment. For a while, once I found my comfort zone, I was watching practically everything at 1.25x speed just as a time saver, but this phase didn't last long. After all, why would I want to speed through I movie that I'm enjoying?
These days I really only speed up a film as a last resort, often to enable my own completionist tendencies. Occasionally I'll come across a movie or show that I watch and dislike. I'm ready to give up on it, but I've sunk too much time into it already, and I don't want to abandon it. But there's still an hour or two hours left to go. That's when I'll start toggling to higher speeds, sometimes to get through a slow patch, or sometimes to just hustle through to the end. As I've been watching a lot of super-sized epics from the '60s lately, this situation has been coming up more often. Also, I admit I've resorted to this with certain television shows that have gone off the rails in their final seasons.
Ironically, I've been consuming other media at either sped up or slowed down rates completely by accident. I listen to most of my podcasts with an older model Ipod, and like to plug it into my car's sound system to listen when I'm driving. However, the podcasts often get sped up or slowed down due to screwy interface issues, and I don't know how to fix it. This has lead to me listening to many episodes of Filmspotting and Blank Check as performed by Alvin and the Chipmunks, or where everyone has a chest cold.
Honestly, it's not bad.
---
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