For the first twenty minutes of "Anchorman," I couldn't wait for the movie to be over. There on the screen was Will Ferrell as the 70s news anchor Ron Burgundy, displaying all the intellect and maturity of an eight-year-old boy pretending to be the coolest man in the universe. And there were his friends, the rest of the news team, even more clueless and awful, particularly the way they talked about women. Anticipating another seventy minutes of crude sex jokes and middle school jibes parading as real dialogue, I was ready for the worst. And then Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate) came into the picture, promptly shot down every moronic innuendo and Neanderthalic pick-up attempt aimed her way. And then she went out with Ron Burgundy, on a "strictly professional" outing that inevitably turned into a real date. And then the movie went completely insane and never looked back. And it was awesome.
"Anchorman" is a spoof of a certain conception of manliness from the 70s, one that involves being smooth with the ladies, looking great in a suit, having good hair, and sporting a really impressive-sounding name. It exists in a heightened, cartoonish reality where rival news teams will rumble with deadly weapons, and a night of bliss for Ron and Victoria becomes a literal animated sequence where they're romping about riding unicorns in a fantasy land full of rainbows. Song numbers require little provocation, and Ron manages to impress Victoria with a virtuoso jazz flute performance. As the visual gags piled up, and I started thinking of "Anchorman" as a live-action equivalent of "The Venture Bros" with news reporters, the humor clicked for me. I got the joke that these trustworthy looking television personalities were really a couple of numbskulls who could read off a teleprompter, their egos quickly deflated when a real, competent, professional journalist comes into their midst.
Will Ferrell's usual shtick is playing the overgrown idiot man-child, but it only works when he's in the right kind of movie. In "Elf," he got to play off the perfect premise of being a man raised by Christmas elves to be unusually innocent and childish and sweet. In "Anchorman," Ron Burgundy is only a sympathetic lead character because he's part of this bizarro version of 1970s San Diego, where everybody loves and admires him for reading the news, and his bad behavior is enabled by hanging around with field reporter Brian Fantana (Paul Rudd), sports guy Champ Kind (David Koechner), and their remarkably dense weatherman Brick Tamland (Steve Carell). They say outrageously sexist things about women not out of any malice, but because they simply do not know any better. When Ron declares that he's in love, the other guys gather around incredulously to ask him what it's like. They're so clearly exaggerated fantasy characters, I could let their offensiveness and stupidity slide. It was all part of the joke.
And the jokes are funny. The best stuff is the absurdity connected to being a news reporter, where buying a new suit is an occasion for happiness, and insulting someone's hair is serious business. However, I was impressed with the level of the little incidental one-liners, and how well the numerous cameos are worked into the film. My favorite running gag involved the phone calls that the news director, played by Fred Willard, kept having just offscreen. It seems odd to talk about it in a comedy like this, but the worldbuilding of the "Anchorman" universe is excellent. Of course Ron's best friend is a dog named Baxter who is his intellectual equal. Of course the ultimate newscaster faux pas involves a teleprompter and a serious slight to local pride. Of course the most important news story of the year is Ling-Wong the panda's pregnancy. And then there were all the little visual delights like Champ’s cowboy hat and the cat fashion show and one really well-aimed trident.
The cast is great all around, and full of familiar faces. Steve Carrell is a notable scene-stealer, a couple years before he really broke out. Ditto Paul Rudd, working the smarm. I was especially happy to see Christina Applegate, who has to play things relatively straight next to the guys, but she's great at it and makes me wish she was in more movies. Will Ferrell is about par for the course - more annoying than he was in "Elf," but less annoying than he was in "Blades of Glory." I think the real winner here is writer/director Adam McKay. After seeing some of his other movies, this is the best thing he's done by a very wide margin. The premise is weird enough and well-realized enough that "Anchorman" really takes on a life of its own. I mean, basing a comedy around larger-than-life news reporters in the 70s? How the hell did they come up with this?
Who cares? Bring on the sequel!
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Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
TJE 7/10 – Shanghai Express (1932)
One of the most interesting partnerships between a director and actress was the one between Marlene Dietrich and Joseph von Sternberg. They made seven films together, beginning in 1930 with "The Blue Angel," the film that made Dietrich a star. After "Shanghai Express," I've seen all but two of them. Initially I was puzzled as to why Dietrich was considered to be such a major talent, especially with her thick accent and mature persona. However, it was soon clear that Dietrich had a rare screen presence. She usually played the mystery woman with a past, the femme fatale or the worldly cynic. Her foreign aura was an asset, part of her exotic allure. Nearly all of the films she made with Von Sternberg were set nowhere near the United States, but in Morocco, St. Petersburg, Germany, Spain, and China.
"Shanghai Express" was made right in the middle of their run of films together. It takes place during an eventful train journey from Beiping (Peking) to Shanghai, following a motley collection of passengers. There's the British captain Doc Harvey (Clive Brook), a missionary, Reverend Carmichael (Lawrence Grant), gambler Sam Salt (Eugene Pallette), opium dealer Eric Baum (Gustav von Seyffertitz), a French major, Lenard (Emile Chautard), old Mrs. Haggerty (Louise Closser Hale), who runs a boarding house in Shanghai, and Henry Chang (Warner Oland), who is clearly up to no good. And then of course there's the infamous Shanghai Lily, played by Dietrich, a beauty of ill-repute who many of the passengers whisper to each other about. She ends up sharing a compartment with Hu Fei (Anna May Wong), a Chinese woman with similar talents.
Films about China in this period are fascinating for the way they reflect how Americans thought of the Far East. However, prejudices against Asian actors allowed few real Asians onscreen, so it's very rare to find films set in or around China that manage to achieve any kind of authenticity. The production of "Shanghai Express" never left the US, but it's apparent that there was an unusual amount of care taken to get the little details right in the art direction and casting. They took the trouble to find real Asian extras who could exchange a line or two in Chinese. Anna May Wong, one of the only major Asian-American stars of the era, got a substantial role as Hu Fei, another in a long line of femme fatales for her, but at least one portrayed relatively positively. Warner Oland, already famous for his yellowface performances as Fu Manchu and Charlie Chan, was obliged to play a character who was half Chinese, but in a nice moment of self-awareness, one of the other characters exclaims he looks "more like a white man to me."
The story is very slight, with a little romance, a little humor, a little melodrama, and a little adventuring. We spend the first part of the film watching the characters meet and interact, revealing bits of their lives, their prejudices and their foibles. There is not much to do on the train besides to talk to each other. It turns out that Lily knows one of the other passengers, and had a relationship with him in the past, which she may want to rekindle. The train is stopped mid-journey for the Chinese authorities to arrest a man. Later on, the train is stopped again and the passengers are put in even greater jeopardy as the suspicious Mr. Chang makes his move. Lily ends up in the middle of the situation, and uses her charms on Chang to try and save the man she really loves. It was 1932, remember, and self-sacrificing heroines and grand gestures and outsized emotions were all the rage.
Von Sternberg is known for his beautifully composed black-and-white visuals, and that's certainly the main attraction here. The busy railway stations, the unfamiliar city streets, and the intimate scenes on the train are all marvelous. However, his best shots were all about Dietrich, dressed in a succession of gorgeous costumes, in turmoil, in thoughtful silences, in love. She walks through an empty passageway on the train, the symmetry emphasizing her stature and her loneliness. She gazes up through the black netting of a veil, lit so that the shadows on her face add mystery and drama. Dietrich's performance is top notch as well, playing the kind of completely self-assured bad girl with a heart of gold that we rarely see anymore. She makes Shanghai Lily a memorable screen siren through only a few conversations, a few knowing glances and insinuations.
I'm afraid the romance doesn't really hold up, as Clive Brook is a bore, but all those wonderful character actors playing their minor parts are a lot of fun, and this is the best thing I've seen Anna May Wong in so far. I don't like "Shanghai Express" as much as some of the other Dietrich and Von Sternberg collaborations, but I did find it impressive, especially the way that it managed to avoid an awful lot of the usual racial landmines. And it's still such a beautiful film to look at, even after all this time.
---
"Shanghai Express" was made right in the middle of their run of films together. It takes place during an eventful train journey from Beiping (Peking) to Shanghai, following a motley collection of passengers. There's the British captain Doc Harvey (Clive Brook), a missionary, Reverend Carmichael (Lawrence Grant), gambler Sam Salt (Eugene Pallette), opium dealer Eric Baum (Gustav von Seyffertitz), a French major, Lenard (Emile Chautard), old Mrs. Haggerty (Louise Closser Hale), who runs a boarding house in Shanghai, and Henry Chang (Warner Oland), who is clearly up to no good. And then of course there's the infamous Shanghai Lily, played by Dietrich, a beauty of ill-repute who many of the passengers whisper to each other about. She ends up sharing a compartment with Hu Fei (Anna May Wong), a Chinese woman with similar talents.
Films about China in this period are fascinating for the way they reflect how Americans thought of the Far East. However, prejudices against Asian actors allowed few real Asians onscreen, so it's very rare to find films set in or around China that manage to achieve any kind of authenticity. The production of "Shanghai Express" never left the US, but it's apparent that there was an unusual amount of care taken to get the little details right in the art direction and casting. They took the trouble to find real Asian extras who could exchange a line or two in Chinese. Anna May Wong, one of the only major Asian-American stars of the era, got a substantial role as Hu Fei, another in a long line of femme fatales for her, but at least one portrayed relatively positively. Warner Oland, already famous for his yellowface performances as Fu Manchu and Charlie Chan, was obliged to play a character who was half Chinese, but in a nice moment of self-awareness, one of the other characters exclaims he looks "more like a white man to me."
The story is very slight, with a little romance, a little humor, a little melodrama, and a little adventuring. We spend the first part of the film watching the characters meet and interact, revealing bits of their lives, their prejudices and their foibles. There is not much to do on the train besides to talk to each other. It turns out that Lily knows one of the other passengers, and had a relationship with him in the past, which she may want to rekindle. The train is stopped mid-journey for the Chinese authorities to arrest a man. Later on, the train is stopped again and the passengers are put in even greater jeopardy as the suspicious Mr. Chang makes his move. Lily ends up in the middle of the situation, and uses her charms on Chang to try and save the man she really loves. It was 1932, remember, and self-sacrificing heroines and grand gestures and outsized emotions were all the rage.
Von Sternberg is known for his beautifully composed black-and-white visuals, and that's certainly the main attraction here. The busy railway stations, the unfamiliar city streets, and the intimate scenes on the train are all marvelous. However, his best shots were all about Dietrich, dressed in a succession of gorgeous costumes, in turmoil, in thoughtful silences, in love. She walks through an empty passageway on the train, the symmetry emphasizing her stature and her loneliness. She gazes up through the black netting of a veil, lit so that the shadows on her face add mystery and drama. Dietrich's performance is top notch as well, playing the kind of completely self-assured bad girl with a heart of gold that we rarely see anymore. She makes Shanghai Lily a memorable screen siren through only a few conversations, a few knowing glances and insinuations.
I'm afraid the romance doesn't really hold up, as Clive Brook is a bore, but all those wonderful character actors playing their minor parts are a lot of fun, and this is the best thing I've seen Anna May Wong in so far. I don't like "Shanghai Express" as much as some of the other Dietrich and Von Sternberg collaborations, but I did find it impressive, especially the way that it managed to avoid an awful lot of the usual racial landmines. And it's still such a beautiful film to look at, even after all this time.
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Monday, July 9, 2012
TJE 7/9 – Headhunters (2011)
Every once in a while, I end up ahead of the curve, and I think this is one of those cases. I intended to see the Norwegian thriller "Headhunters" when it hit DVD in August, but I found it playing at my local art house theater, and I was in the mood for something bloody, so why not? "Headhunters" didn't disappoint. It's the kind of movie that action genre fans love, very gritty, very bloody, with a tight story. I expect that you'll be hearing a lot about it over the next few months as people discover it. At the time of writing, it's already in the process of being remade by Hollywood.
Roger Brown (Aksel Hennie) is a high level corporate headhunter with some major insecurities, about his short stature, about his background, and about his place in the world. He overcompensates by living an exorbitantly luxurious lifestyle, sparing no expense to keep his beautiful wife Diana (Synnøve Macody) happy. To pay the bills, Roger moonlights as an art thief, partnering with a colorful gun-enthusiast named Ove (Eivind Sander). Through his job, Roger finds privately owned artwork, and Ove carries out the heists. One day, Roger happens upon a major opportunity – his latest candidate, Clas Greve (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau from "Game of Thrones"), owns a Rubens painting that is worth millions. However, as the heist proceeds, and things start to go wrong, Roger begins to suspect that he's gotten in over his head.
You don't realize how rare it is to find a really well plotted, well developed crime thriller until you see one like this that gets everything right. Too often, heist films and action films are built around the same kind of sympathetic everyman criminal. Not so with "Headhunters," which gives us a really memorable protagonist in Roger Brown. He's an insecure, jealous reprobate who steals because he has some major personal issues that he's never addressed, and this is absolutely integral to what happens in the story. His relationship with Diana, which could have been such a perfunctory plot device, is instead seriously delved into and dissected before our eyes. This is the kind of heist film that features actual character arcs and personal growth. It's so smartly written, "Headhunters" is a very satisfying watch on a purely dramatic level.
So when the crazy-ass stuff happens, and rest assured action fans that it does happen frequently, it's not just violence for its own sake. Be warned that this is very much an R-rated film, and there's a good amount of blood and gore. It's not over-the-top, but the fights and shootouts get very brutal, the aftermath is often shown up close, and there's one particular scene of animal cruelty that is not going to go over well with the faint-hearted viewer. It's all grounded well enough in reality that the impact hits a lot harder than in similar American films, where the violence always come off as slightly artificial and orchestrated. "Headhunters" does not have this problem at all. After seeing some Australian and Scandinavian crime films that use the same style, I really like this approach.
Aksel Hennie carries the film. He doesn't come across as the kind of leading man you'd want for such an action-heavy film at first, especially next to the more conventionally attractive Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, but boy does he deliver when it counts. The film requires him to play intimate dramatic scenes, to be extremely physical and intense, to go from seething, jealous bastard to achingly vulnerable and distraught. He gets to be both the villain and victim and he easily keeps your attention, even if you're not sure whether you're rooting for Roger or not. Everyone else in the cast does a good job keeping pace with him. Coster-Waldau is appropriately menacing, and Synnøve Macody gets the most out of her few but vital scenes.
I really appreciate a film that can surprise me, and "Headhunters" managed to do it several times, and not in the conventional ways. What I thought was going to be a fairly simple, straightforward heist film went off in directions I wasn't expecting at all, and it changed gears like that several times throughout the film, so I was never sure where it was going next. And it knew exactly what it was doing, leaving no loose ends or ambiguities. "Headhunters" has some pretty wild and implausible plot twists, that really strain believability, but the script makes it work and leaves no loose ends.
If this sounds like your kind of movie, I urge you to see "Headhunters" in its original Norwegian in any way that you can, before Hollywood remakes it and replaces Aksel Hennie with Jason Statham or Sam Worthington. It's one of the best examples of the genre I've seen in a while, and it's worth the effort to go track down.
---
Roger Brown (Aksel Hennie) is a high level corporate headhunter with some major insecurities, about his short stature, about his background, and about his place in the world. He overcompensates by living an exorbitantly luxurious lifestyle, sparing no expense to keep his beautiful wife Diana (Synnøve Macody) happy. To pay the bills, Roger moonlights as an art thief, partnering with a colorful gun-enthusiast named Ove (Eivind Sander). Through his job, Roger finds privately owned artwork, and Ove carries out the heists. One day, Roger happens upon a major opportunity – his latest candidate, Clas Greve (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau from "Game of Thrones"), owns a Rubens painting that is worth millions. However, as the heist proceeds, and things start to go wrong, Roger begins to suspect that he's gotten in over his head.
You don't realize how rare it is to find a really well plotted, well developed crime thriller until you see one like this that gets everything right. Too often, heist films and action films are built around the same kind of sympathetic everyman criminal. Not so with "Headhunters," which gives us a really memorable protagonist in Roger Brown. He's an insecure, jealous reprobate who steals because he has some major personal issues that he's never addressed, and this is absolutely integral to what happens in the story. His relationship with Diana, which could have been such a perfunctory plot device, is instead seriously delved into and dissected before our eyes. This is the kind of heist film that features actual character arcs and personal growth. It's so smartly written, "Headhunters" is a very satisfying watch on a purely dramatic level.
So when the crazy-ass stuff happens, and rest assured action fans that it does happen frequently, it's not just violence for its own sake. Be warned that this is very much an R-rated film, and there's a good amount of blood and gore. It's not over-the-top, but the fights and shootouts get very brutal, the aftermath is often shown up close, and there's one particular scene of animal cruelty that is not going to go over well with the faint-hearted viewer. It's all grounded well enough in reality that the impact hits a lot harder than in similar American films, where the violence always come off as slightly artificial and orchestrated. "Headhunters" does not have this problem at all. After seeing some Australian and Scandinavian crime films that use the same style, I really like this approach.
Aksel Hennie carries the film. He doesn't come across as the kind of leading man you'd want for such an action-heavy film at first, especially next to the more conventionally attractive Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, but boy does he deliver when it counts. The film requires him to play intimate dramatic scenes, to be extremely physical and intense, to go from seething, jealous bastard to achingly vulnerable and distraught. He gets to be both the villain and victim and he easily keeps your attention, even if you're not sure whether you're rooting for Roger or not. Everyone else in the cast does a good job keeping pace with him. Coster-Waldau is appropriately menacing, and Synnøve Macody gets the most out of her few but vital scenes.
I really appreciate a film that can surprise me, and "Headhunters" managed to do it several times, and not in the conventional ways. What I thought was going to be a fairly simple, straightforward heist film went off in directions I wasn't expecting at all, and it changed gears like that several times throughout the film, so I was never sure where it was going next. And it knew exactly what it was doing, leaving no loose ends or ambiguities. "Headhunters" has some pretty wild and implausible plot twists, that really strain believability, but the script makes it work and leaves no loose ends.
If this sounds like your kind of movie, I urge you to see "Headhunters" in its original Norwegian in any way that you can, before Hollywood remakes it and replaces Aksel Hennie with Jason Statham or Sam Worthington. It's one of the best examples of the genre I've seen in a while, and it's worth the effort to go track down.
---
Sunday, July 8, 2012
TJE 7/8 – Brave (2012)
There has been a lot of press about how Merida of PIXAR's "Brave" is the studio's first female lead character, and a princess to boot. Now what are the implications of that? The Disney princesses come with a lot of baggage, and are often pointed to as questionable role models for the little girls who love them. Many hoped that Merida would be made of stronger stuff, following the lead of the more active, aggressive warrior princesses that have become so popular lately, while others worried that she'd be another example of overbearing "girl power."
I don't think that Merida (Kelly MacDonald) was really what anyone was expecting. Yes, she is a princess, but she doesn't want to be one. Being a princess, the film tells us, comes with a lot of responsibilities. Merida is being trained by her mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson) to become a proper and refined lady, while Merida would much rather be out riding and adventuring. A talented archer, she takes after her father, the hulking, jovial King Fergus (Billy Connolly), who lost a leg to the "demon" bear Mor'du. Mother and daughter clash and argue, but things really come to a head when Merida learns she is to be betrothed to the son of one of the clan leaders her kingdom is allied with. The trio of Lord MacGuffin (Kevin McKidd), Lord Macintosh (Craig Ferguson), and Lord Dingwall (Robbie Coltrane) soon arrive with their offspring in tow, and Merida wants nothing to do with them, despite her mother's best efforts.
"Brave" is not your usual princess story, in that it has very little to do with romance and everything to do with healing the rift between Merida and her mother. Our heroine is also not particularly heroic to start out with. Yes, she's a fiery, red-haired, tomboyish free spirit, and that's a lot of fun, but she's also immature and self-centered, and has to grow into the hero role. I expect that some viewers might be initially taken aback by her behavior, because she's really a bit of a brat at times, grumbling over all of her mother's lessons and expectations. Of course, that's perfectly normal for a teenage girl, and I appreciate that PIXAR went this route with Merida. It makes her much more memorable and emotionally genuine than the bulk of the starry-eyed Disney girls.
Also, her rougher side is understandable in light of the rest of the family. Loveable King Fergus brings his wild and woolly warrior ways to the dinner table. Merida has a trio of impish younger brothers who are expert troublemakers, frequently stealing sweets from the kitchen to fuel their hyperactivity. They also steal the picture whenever they appear. Elinor is the only real civilizing force in family, but she's very strong and formidable in her own way. And they all live on the edge of untamed Scottish wilderness, where hunting and adventuring and going to war with people is pretty much par for the course. And then when the clan leaders show up, with their weapons in tow, some good-natured brawling is inevitable.
The film's biggest flaw is that the story is sort of a mess. The tone and pacing are all over the place, and the logic of marriages and traditions and magic and ghosts is all very arbitrary and convenient. I think the story of Merida and her mother works perfectly fine on an emotional level though, the messages are strong, and there are lots of good action and comic set pieces to keep the energy high. I was surprised at how funny "Brave" is, with its copious slapstick and some inspired minor characters. There is a witch in the film, voiced by Julie Walters, and she - well, better not to spoil it. Also, parents should be warned that there are some scary scenes involving bears that may upset very young viewers.
Of course, as this is a PIXAR film, "Brave" looks terrific. PIXAR's visuals are still head and shoulders above all its competitors. The scenery's gorgeous, the animation is fantastic, and the design work gets a lot of mileage out of the Celtic setting. There are some aesthetic similarities to Dreamworks' "How to Train Your Dragon," particularly as both movies share a couple of Scottish voice actors, but "Brave" looks quite a bit more authentic, in its own heavily stylized way, with a lot of extra little cultural touches. And only in a PIXAR movie would the most impressive visual be Merida's unruly red curls, which immediately draw the eye in every frame she appears in.
I think "Brave" is going to be one of those movies that won't work for everybody, where some people are going to find its flaws too glaring to overlook. I, however, enjoyed "Brave" more than I enjoyed "Up" or "WALL-E." I don't think that it's among the better PIXAR films, but there is no doubt that this is a PIXAR caliber film.
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I don't think that Merida (Kelly MacDonald) was really what anyone was expecting. Yes, she is a princess, but she doesn't want to be one. Being a princess, the film tells us, comes with a lot of responsibilities. Merida is being trained by her mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson) to become a proper and refined lady, while Merida would much rather be out riding and adventuring. A talented archer, she takes after her father, the hulking, jovial King Fergus (Billy Connolly), who lost a leg to the "demon" bear Mor'du. Mother and daughter clash and argue, but things really come to a head when Merida learns she is to be betrothed to the son of one of the clan leaders her kingdom is allied with. The trio of Lord MacGuffin (Kevin McKidd), Lord Macintosh (Craig Ferguson), and Lord Dingwall (Robbie Coltrane) soon arrive with their offspring in tow, and Merida wants nothing to do with them, despite her mother's best efforts.
"Brave" is not your usual princess story, in that it has very little to do with romance and everything to do with healing the rift between Merida and her mother. Our heroine is also not particularly heroic to start out with. Yes, she's a fiery, red-haired, tomboyish free spirit, and that's a lot of fun, but she's also immature and self-centered, and has to grow into the hero role. I expect that some viewers might be initially taken aback by her behavior, because she's really a bit of a brat at times, grumbling over all of her mother's lessons and expectations. Of course, that's perfectly normal for a teenage girl, and I appreciate that PIXAR went this route with Merida. It makes her much more memorable and emotionally genuine than the bulk of the starry-eyed Disney girls.
Also, her rougher side is understandable in light of the rest of the family. Loveable King Fergus brings his wild and woolly warrior ways to the dinner table. Merida has a trio of impish younger brothers who are expert troublemakers, frequently stealing sweets from the kitchen to fuel their hyperactivity. They also steal the picture whenever they appear. Elinor is the only real civilizing force in family, but she's very strong and formidable in her own way. And they all live on the edge of untamed Scottish wilderness, where hunting and adventuring and going to war with people is pretty much par for the course. And then when the clan leaders show up, with their weapons in tow, some good-natured brawling is inevitable.
The film's biggest flaw is that the story is sort of a mess. The tone and pacing are all over the place, and the logic of marriages and traditions and magic and ghosts is all very arbitrary and convenient. I think the story of Merida and her mother works perfectly fine on an emotional level though, the messages are strong, and there are lots of good action and comic set pieces to keep the energy high. I was surprised at how funny "Brave" is, with its copious slapstick and some inspired minor characters. There is a witch in the film, voiced by Julie Walters, and she - well, better not to spoil it. Also, parents should be warned that there are some scary scenes involving bears that may upset very young viewers.
Of course, as this is a PIXAR film, "Brave" looks terrific. PIXAR's visuals are still head and shoulders above all its competitors. The scenery's gorgeous, the animation is fantastic, and the design work gets a lot of mileage out of the Celtic setting. There are some aesthetic similarities to Dreamworks' "How to Train Your Dragon," particularly as both movies share a couple of Scottish voice actors, but "Brave" looks quite a bit more authentic, in its own heavily stylized way, with a lot of extra little cultural touches. And only in a PIXAR movie would the most impressive visual be Merida's unruly red curls, which immediately draw the eye in every frame she appears in.
I think "Brave" is going to be one of those movies that won't work for everybody, where some people are going to find its flaws too glaring to overlook. I, however, enjoyed "Brave" more than I enjoyed "Up" or "WALL-E." I don't think that it's among the better PIXAR films, but there is no doubt that this is a PIXAR caliber film.
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Saturday, July 7, 2012
TJE 7/7 – From Up on Poppy Hill (2011)
"From Up on Poppy Hill" should have been Goro Miyazaki's first feature, a simple, small-scale teenage romance that takes place sometime in early 1960s Yokohama. After the high profile failure of the fantasy epic "Tales From Earthsea," I wouldn't have been surprised if he had quit directing entirely. But here we are six years later, and Goro Miyazaki has directed his second Studio Ghibli feature, with his father Hayao Miyazaki taking over scripting duties. It's a much better outing for him on every level.
Sixteen year-old Umi looks after Coquelicot Manor, a boarding house on a high hill that overlooks the harbor. Her father died in the Korean war and her mother is away, leaving Umi to look after her grandmother, younger siblings, and the various boarders. She raises a pair of signal flags every morning, and one day she gets a response, in the form of a poem in the school paper. Umi suspects that the author of the poem is Shun, an older schoolmate who works on the school paper, and is spearheading a campaign to stop the Tokyo Olympic committee from tearing down the school's beloved clubhouse building. As Umi and Shun spend more time together, they start to fall in love. However, Shun discovers that he and Umi might be siblings, complicating the situation.
Unlike most of Ghibli's work, "Poppy Hill" has no fantastical or fanciful elements at all, and so the animation seems rather subdued compared to their other films, full of monsters and spirits and talking cats. It almost begs the question why a film like this should be animated at all, except that the visuals are still delightful to look at, and the story benefits greatly from the exaggeration of characters' facial features and the soft abstraction of the pastoral scenery. When the kids are cleaning out the cluttered clubhouse, the hand-drawn piles of junk topple in delightfully cartoonish fashion, and the scenes of rowdy crowds of schoolboys happily ignore traditional physics. Why shouldn't a story like this be told through animation? I would gladly watch Umi making breakfast for the movie's whole ninety-minute running time, because it's just executed so well.
Where the film really excels is with the characterization of the kids. Umi and Shun fit the mold of your usual Miyazaki protagonists and feel a little derivative, Shun especially. However, "Poppy Hill" spends the time to develop the pair nicely and dig into what makes them both tick. And their emotional states are rendered so well through traditional animation, you can't help but get caught up in their problems. When Shun starts ignoring Umi at school you can see the hurt and confusion on her face, though her face is composed of only a few simple ink lines. And it's this emotional reality, more than any magical creatures, more than any eye-popping fantasy wonderlands, that is one of the most crucial components of the Ghibli movies. It was a quality I found sorely missing from "Tales From Earthsea," and I'm so relieved that Goro Miyazaki seems to have gotten a handle on his characterization here.
For instance, my favorite scenes take place in the boarding house, where we get a gaggle of minor characters who really don't matter much to the plot, but are established as such full, interesting personalities in only a few minutes of screen time. There's Sachiko, the awkward art student, and Doctor Hokuto, who works the late shift at the local hospital, and Umi's hungry little brother Riku, and Umi's grandmother, the only one who wonders aloud if Umi may be taking on too much work in her mother's absence. They help to fill out the film's universe, to give it more texture and provide Umi with some support when things get rough for her. In other hands, so many extra minor characters could have been too overwhelming, or come across as cameos that were included for the benefit of the source material's original fans. Hayao Miyazaki, however, has always gotten the balance right, and I really hope this is a sign that the younger Miyazaki has picked it up as well.
I'm afraid that no matter how you look at it, "From Up on Poppy Hill" isn't one of the better Ghibli features. It's roughly on the same level of the more low-key obscurities in their catalog that cover similar thematic ground, like Tomomi Mochizuki's "Ocean Waves" or Isao Takahata's "Only Yesterday." The story is simply too rote and perfunctory, and there's some of that oddly didactic speechifying that has been popping up in Hayao Miyazaki's most recent output. However, this is an important stepping stone for Goro Miyazaki's future career as a director. This is a mediocre film, not a bad one, and a mediocre Ghibli film is still miles beyond what most animation outfits produce.
The studio has been in a tough transitional phase for the last few years, but after this film and Hiromasa Yonebayashi's "Arrietty," I think things are looking up. Though Hayao Miyazaki's shadow still looms very large, we're starting to get a decent picture of how Ghibli might look without him, and that's vital for the studio's future. I look forward to it.
---
Sixteen year-old Umi looks after Coquelicot Manor, a boarding house on a high hill that overlooks the harbor. Her father died in the Korean war and her mother is away, leaving Umi to look after her grandmother, younger siblings, and the various boarders. She raises a pair of signal flags every morning, and one day she gets a response, in the form of a poem in the school paper. Umi suspects that the author of the poem is Shun, an older schoolmate who works on the school paper, and is spearheading a campaign to stop the Tokyo Olympic committee from tearing down the school's beloved clubhouse building. As Umi and Shun spend more time together, they start to fall in love. However, Shun discovers that he and Umi might be siblings, complicating the situation.
Unlike most of Ghibli's work, "Poppy Hill" has no fantastical or fanciful elements at all, and so the animation seems rather subdued compared to their other films, full of monsters and spirits and talking cats. It almost begs the question why a film like this should be animated at all, except that the visuals are still delightful to look at, and the story benefits greatly from the exaggeration of characters' facial features and the soft abstraction of the pastoral scenery. When the kids are cleaning out the cluttered clubhouse, the hand-drawn piles of junk topple in delightfully cartoonish fashion, and the scenes of rowdy crowds of schoolboys happily ignore traditional physics. Why shouldn't a story like this be told through animation? I would gladly watch Umi making breakfast for the movie's whole ninety-minute running time, because it's just executed so well.
Where the film really excels is with the characterization of the kids. Umi and Shun fit the mold of your usual Miyazaki protagonists and feel a little derivative, Shun especially. However, "Poppy Hill" spends the time to develop the pair nicely and dig into what makes them both tick. And their emotional states are rendered so well through traditional animation, you can't help but get caught up in their problems. When Shun starts ignoring Umi at school you can see the hurt and confusion on her face, though her face is composed of only a few simple ink lines. And it's this emotional reality, more than any magical creatures, more than any eye-popping fantasy wonderlands, that is one of the most crucial components of the Ghibli movies. It was a quality I found sorely missing from "Tales From Earthsea," and I'm so relieved that Goro Miyazaki seems to have gotten a handle on his characterization here.
For instance, my favorite scenes take place in the boarding house, where we get a gaggle of minor characters who really don't matter much to the plot, but are established as such full, interesting personalities in only a few minutes of screen time. There's Sachiko, the awkward art student, and Doctor Hokuto, who works the late shift at the local hospital, and Umi's hungry little brother Riku, and Umi's grandmother, the only one who wonders aloud if Umi may be taking on too much work in her mother's absence. They help to fill out the film's universe, to give it more texture and provide Umi with some support when things get rough for her. In other hands, so many extra minor characters could have been too overwhelming, or come across as cameos that were included for the benefit of the source material's original fans. Hayao Miyazaki, however, has always gotten the balance right, and I really hope this is a sign that the younger Miyazaki has picked it up as well.
I'm afraid that no matter how you look at it, "From Up on Poppy Hill" isn't one of the better Ghibli features. It's roughly on the same level of the more low-key obscurities in their catalog that cover similar thematic ground, like Tomomi Mochizuki's "Ocean Waves" or Isao Takahata's "Only Yesterday." The story is simply too rote and perfunctory, and there's some of that oddly didactic speechifying that has been popping up in Hayao Miyazaki's most recent output. However, this is an important stepping stone for Goro Miyazaki's future career as a director. This is a mediocre film, not a bad one, and a mediocre Ghibli film is still miles beyond what most animation outfits produce.
The studio has been in a tough transitional phase for the last few years, but after this film and Hiromasa Yonebayashi's "Arrietty," I think things are looking up. Though Hayao Miyazaki's shadow still looms very large, we're starting to get a decent picture of how Ghibli might look without him, and that's vital for the studio's future. I look forward to it.
---
Friday, July 6, 2012
TJE 7/6 – My Week With Marilyn (2011)
Once upon a time in 1956, Marilyn Monroe and her husband, playwright Arthur Miller, went to England so Monroe could star in Laurence Olivier's new film, a light comedy called "The Sleeping Prince," which would later be released as "The Prince and the Showgirl." The production was difficult, and Monroe had a brief affair with a young assistant on the film, Colin Clark – at least according the diaries he published containing his account of what went on during filming.
Over fifty years later, "The Prince and the Showgirl" is an obscurity, but Monroe, Miller, and Olivier have become legendary figures. Monroe in particular has never lost her mystique. So why shouldn't we have another film about Marilyn Monroe, in all her troubled, fascinating, larger-than-life glory? Why shouldn't we take a look back at that moment in time when arguably the greatest British actor of the last century and a Hollywood icon shared the screen together? Well, after watching the film, I kind of wished I'd sat down with "The Prince and the Showgirl" instead.
The trouble is that "My Week With Marilyn" gets entirely carried away with the notion of Marilyn Monroe as the ultimate movie star. It keeps telling us emphatically over and over again how magnificently charismatic and genuine and sexy she is. At one point, Colin (Eddie Redmayne) proclaims that Olivier is a great actor trying to become a movie star, while Monroe is a movie star trying to become an actress. So much hinges on Michelle Williams' ability to channel Monroe, but she's more like Olivier, and that's the fatal flaw here. Williams is a very, very good actress, one of the best currently working, but she's never been a movie star. She doesn't have that great natural presence that made Marilyn Monroe what she was.
This is not to say that her performance isn't good, because it is. Williams' Monroe is a beautiful wreck, always late to filming, always catastrophically unprepared, fumbling through simple lines and relying heavily on the help of her acting coach Paula Strasberg (Zoë Wanamaker). She's often heavily medicated, and always in the middle of some emotional crisis, to the weary despair of Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott), and the endless frustration of Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh), who is both directing and co-starring in the picture with her. However, the film argues that Monroe's allure is strong enough to overcome all of this, to the extent that a star-struck young Colin Clark will ignore the affections of pretty young wardrobe assistant Lucy (Emma Watson), in favor of chasing after the impossible Monroe.
Over and over again, the script breaks the cardinal rule – show, don't tell. Williams is good enough an actress that she can summon up a good facsimile of Marilyn Monroe's shine, but not to the degree that the movie demands of her. I have to wonder if Monroe herself could have lived up to the version of Marilyn Monroe the film so desperately wants. Olivier is pretty much ignored by comparison, which allows Branagh to make him into a real human being, thankfully. The same goes for Dougray Scott as Miller, Julia Ormond as Vivian Leigh, and all the other actors playing famous names. Eddie Redmayne holds his own with them very well as Colin Clark, though the character is as trite and unremarkable as they come.
It's disappointing how manufactured "My Week With Marilyn" feels. It has all the earmarks of the worst kind of Oscar bait. You have one great performance, around which a much weaker film has been built. The treatment of the material is entirely too maudlin and sentimental, drawing heavily on nostalgia for a bygone age that most people don't remember anymore. You have small supporting and cameo roles for several well-regarded older actors for no other reason than to have them appear in the picture – in this case Derek Jacobi, Judi Dench, and Toby Jones. And finally, something that's become more prevalent in recent years, there's even some star-power for the soundtrack. The moody theme composed by Alexandre Desplat is performed by none other than the popular Chinese classical pianist Lang Lang.
"My Week With Marilyn" tells us nothing new or insightful about Marilyn Monroe, but is content to simply burnish her legendary status. It feels like such a wasted opportunity, considering the caliber of the cast, and especially the performance that Michelle Williams delivers. The film is so limited by its premise, giving us only glimpses of the troubled marriage between Miller and Monroe, and certainly not enough of Olivier. I should also point out that this is the first film for director Simon Curtis, whose work until now has been in television. This feels like a television production at times, very broad and terribly unsubtle.
Frankly, I think Marilyn Monroe deserves better.
---
Over fifty years later, "The Prince and the Showgirl" is an obscurity, but Monroe, Miller, and Olivier have become legendary figures. Monroe in particular has never lost her mystique. So why shouldn't we have another film about Marilyn Monroe, in all her troubled, fascinating, larger-than-life glory? Why shouldn't we take a look back at that moment in time when arguably the greatest British actor of the last century and a Hollywood icon shared the screen together? Well, after watching the film, I kind of wished I'd sat down with "The Prince and the Showgirl" instead.
The trouble is that "My Week With Marilyn" gets entirely carried away with the notion of Marilyn Monroe as the ultimate movie star. It keeps telling us emphatically over and over again how magnificently charismatic and genuine and sexy she is. At one point, Colin (Eddie Redmayne) proclaims that Olivier is a great actor trying to become a movie star, while Monroe is a movie star trying to become an actress. So much hinges on Michelle Williams' ability to channel Monroe, but she's more like Olivier, and that's the fatal flaw here. Williams is a very, very good actress, one of the best currently working, but she's never been a movie star. She doesn't have that great natural presence that made Marilyn Monroe what she was.
This is not to say that her performance isn't good, because it is. Williams' Monroe is a beautiful wreck, always late to filming, always catastrophically unprepared, fumbling through simple lines and relying heavily on the help of her acting coach Paula Strasberg (Zoë Wanamaker). She's often heavily medicated, and always in the middle of some emotional crisis, to the weary despair of Arthur Miller (Dougray Scott), and the endless frustration of Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh), who is both directing and co-starring in the picture with her. However, the film argues that Monroe's allure is strong enough to overcome all of this, to the extent that a star-struck young Colin Clark will ignore the affections of pretty young wardrobe assistant Lucy (Emma Watson), in favor of chasing after the impossible Monroe.
Over and over again, the script breaks the cardinal rule – show, don't tell. Williams is good enough an actress that she can summon up a good facsimile of Marilyn Monroe's shine, but not to the degree that the movie demands of her. I have to wonder if Monroe herself could have lived up to the version of Marilyn Monroe the film so desperately wants. Olivier is pretty much ignored by comparison, which allows Branagh to make him into a real human being, thankfully. The same goes for Dougray Scott as Miller, Julia Ormond as Vivian Leigh, and all the other actors playing famous names. Eddie Redmayne holds his own with them very well as Colin Clark, though the character is as trite and unremarkable as they come.
It's disappointing how manufactured "My Week With Marilyn" feels. It has all the earmarks of the worst kind of Oscar bait. You have one great performance, around which a much weaker film has been built. The treatment of the material is entirely too maudlin and sentimental, drawing heavily on nostalgia for a bygone age that most people don't remember anymore. You have small supporting and cameo roles for several well-regarded older actors for no other reason than to have them appear in the picture – in this case Derek Jacobi, Judi Dench, and Toby Jones. And finally, something that's become more prevalent in recent years, there's even some star-power for the soundtrack. The moody theme composed by Alexandre Desplat is performed by none other than the popular Chinese classical pianist Lang Lang.
"My Week With Marilyn" tells us nothing new or insightful about Marilyn Monroe, but is content to simply burnish her legendary status. It feels like such a wasted opportunity, considering the caliber of the cast, and especially the performance that Michelle Williams delivers. The film is so limited by its premise, giving us only glimpses of the troubled marriage between Miller and Monroe, and certainly not enough of Olivier. I should also point out that this is the first film for director Simon Curtis, whose work until now has been in television. This feels like a television production at times, very broad and terribly unsubtle.
Frankly, I think Marilyn Monroe deserves better.
---
Thursday, July 5, 2012
TJE 7/5 – The Major and the Minor (1942)
I so wanted this one to be good. "The Major and the Minor" was one of the few major Billy Wilder films I hadn't seen yet, his debut as a Hollywood director. Wilder also collaborated on the script with his writing partner Charles Brackett. The pair had previously been responsible for the classic romantic comedies "Ninotchka," "Midnight," and "Ball of Fire." Unfortunately, "The Major and the Minor" has one of those stories that just doesn't work after seventy years, because it hinges on believing that thirty-something Ginger Rogers could pass herself off as a twelve year-old girl.
Rogers stars as Susan Applegate, a young woman who has decided to quit the bright lights of New York City to go home to small town Iowa. Unfortunately a rise in train fares means that she only has enough money to buy a half-fare child's ticket. So, with her stockings swapped for ankle socks and her hair in pigtails, she bluffs her way onboard, only to wind up in the company of Major Philip Kirby (Ray Milland), who insists on looking after her. When the train is held up, Susan, calling herself Su-Su, goes along with Major Kirby to the military academy where he is employed. There, Su-Su has to contend with Major Kirby's manipulative fiancée Pamela (Rita Johnson), Pamela's kid sister Lucy (Diana Lynn), a real twelve-year-old girl, and the attentions of every young cadet in the academy.
I know things were different in 1942. Judy Garland got away with playing a little girl named Dorothy Gale in "The Wizard of Oz" only a few short years earlier. Rogers certainly throws herself into the performance, modulating her voice, playing around with different degrees of baby talk and precociousness to very charming effect. However, the illusion just doesn't hold up after all this time. When Susan is on the train, we understand why the conductors suspect her because the fakery is so obvious. Ginger Rogers was simply not one of those actresses who could pull off looking like a little girl. Major Kirby's confusion can be forgiven because he has a "bum eye," though you have to wonder how that affects his military eligibility. However, once Susan arrives at the military academy, nobody aside from the real twelve-year-old questions Susan's appearance for a moment. It's too much to take.
And then there are the uncomfortable implications of the story if we do buy that Major Kirby really believes that Susan is a twelve-year-old girl. The movie portrays him as a straight-arrow good guy with absolutely nothing illicit on his mind, but he clearly develops romantic feelings for her by the end of the film. It wouldn't have been so bad if little Su-Su was meant to be fifteen or sixteen years old, but twelve is clearly prepubescent and that sets off all the alarm bells. As long as the trickery and misunderstandings were played for laughs, I could give the film the benefit of the doubt, but once Susan becomes a real contender for the Major's affections, that was something else entirely. The script does what it can to counter this, to make the romance between Susan and the Major as innocent as possible, but you simply couldn't get away with it today.
Ginger Rogers' performance is really the only thing in the film worth remembering. Her comedic timing is great, she pulls off a great transformation from pretend schoolgirl into a lovely, mature woman as the script requires, and Wilder and Brackett give her some fun dialogue to play with. I only knew Rogers from her song-and-dance pictures with Fred Astaire, but her performance here makes me want to look up more of her work. Milland and Johnson are a typical screen nice guy and mean girl respectively, not much to talk about. Diana Lynn, playing the science enthusiast little sister, starts out as promisingly abrasive, but she really doesn't get enough to do to leave a real impression. Ditto the various cadets who court Susan and the other minor characters.
As for Billy Wilder's direction, it's completely competent for a light comedy and nothing the least bit special. This was his first major directing job, after all, still two years before "Double Indemnity" and "Lost Weekend," and eight before the career high of "Sunset Boulevard." We can consider this an important stepping stone for him, but it's definitely not one of his better films as either a director or a writer.
However, I will admit that I am a little curious about the 1955 remake of "The Major and the Minor," entitled "You're Never Too Young," where the genders are switched and Jerry Lewis plays a grown man trying to pass himself off as a youngster. Maybe the film would work better with more slapstick and silliness, and less emphasis on the questionable romance.
---
Rogers stars as Susan Applegate, a young woman who has decided to quit the bright lights of New York City to go home to small town Iowa. Unfortunately a rise in train fares means that she only has enough money to buy a half-fare child's ticket. So, with her stockings swapped for ankle socks and her hair in pigtails, she bluffs her way onboard, only to wind up in the company of Major Philip Kirby (Ray Milland), who insists on looking after her. When the train is held up, Susan, calling herself Su-Su, goes along with Major Kirby to the military academy where he is employed. There, Su-Su has to contend with Major Kirby's manipulative fiancée Pamela (Rita Johnson), Pamela's kid sister Lucy (Diana Lynn), a real twelve-year-old girl, and the attentions of every young cadet in the academy.
I know things were different in 1942. Judy Garland got away with playing a little girl named Dorothy Gale in "The Wizard of Oz" only a few short years earlier. Rogers certainly throws herself into the performance, modulating her voice, playing around with different degrees of baby talk and precociousness to very charming effect. However, the illusion just doesn't hold up after all this time. When Susan is on the train, we understand why the conductors suspect her because the fakery is so obvious. Ginger Rogers was simply not one of those actresses who could pull off looking like a little girl. Major Kirby's confusion can be forgiven because he has a "bum eye," though you have to wonder how that affects his military eligibility. However, once Susan arrives at the military academy, nobody aside from the real twelve-year-old questions Susan's appearance for a moment. It's too much to take.
And then there are the uncomfortable implications of the story if we do buy that Major Kirby really believes that Susan is a twelve-year-old girl. The movie portrays him as a straight-arrow good guy with absolutely nothing illicit on his mind, but he clearly develops romantic feelings for her by the end of the film. It wouldn't have been so bad if little Su-Su was meant to be fifteen or sixteen years old, but twelve is clearly prepubescent and that sets off all the alarm bells. As long as the trickery and misunderstandings were played for laughs, I could give the film the benefit of the doubt, but once Susan becomes a real contender for the Major's affections, that was something else entirely. The script does what it can to counter this, to make the romance between Susan and the Major as innocent as possible, but you simply couldn't get away with it today.
Ginger Rogers' performance is really the only thing in the film worth remembering. Her comedic timing is great, she pulls off a great transformation from pretend schoolgirl into a lovely, mature woman as the script requires, and Wilder and Brackett give her some fun dialogue to play with. I only knew Rogers from her song-and-dance pictures with Fred Astaire, but her performance here makes me want to look up more of her work. Milland and Johnson are a typical screen nice guy and mean girl respectively, not much to talk about. Diana Lynn, playing the science enthusiast little sister, starts out as promisingly abrasive, but she really doesn't get enough to do to leave a real impression. Ditto the various cadets who court Susan and the other minor characters.
As for Billy Wilder's direction, it's completely competent for a light comedy and nothing the least bit special. This was his first major directing job, after all, still two years before "Double Indemnity" and "Lost Weekend," and eight before the career high of "Sunset Boulevard." We can consider this an important stepping stone for him, but it's definitely not one of his better films as either a director or a writer.
However, I will admit that I am a little curious about the 1955 remake of "The Major and the Minor," entitled "You're Never Too Young," where the genders are switched and Jerry Lewis plays a grown man trying to pass himself off as a youngster. Maybe the film would work better with more slapstick and silliness, and less emphasis on the questionable romance.
---
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