Let's check in on some recent horror movies.
The newest version of "The Invisible Man" is a low budget Blumhouse thriller written and directed by Leigh Whannell. It takes the novel approach of being reframed as a domestic violence story, told through the eyes of its heroine, Cecilia Kass (Elizabeth Moss). In the opening sequence, we watch Cecilia escape from the fortress-like house of her controlling boyfriend Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen). She slowly recovers from the ordeal with the support of her sister Emily (Harriet Dyer), and hides out in the home of Emily's ex-husband, James (Aldis Hodge), where he lives with his teenage daughter Sydney (Storm Reid). Adrian is reported to have killed himself, but Cecilia has her doubts, especially when she starts experiencing unexplained accidents and disruptions in her life.
"The Invisible Man" slots in nicely with the recent trend of horror films that are social allegories. Here, we have a domestic abuse story with a uniquely empowered abuser, constantly undercutting and isolating his victim, and making her feel like she's going crazy. And it works wonderfully, because even though the mechanisms that create the monster are pure fantasy, the underlying abuser/victim dynamics and psychological mind games being deployed ring absolutely true to life. Adrian is the psycho stalker ex of every woman's nightmares, who seems unstoppable. The film is a great showcase for Elizabeth Moss, playing a traumatized woman on the edge who learns what she's capable of to ensure her own survival. She's able to make the most ludicrous situations feel emotionally real and immediate.
And that's important because "The Invisible Man" is built around old fashioned thrills and suspense instead of expensive CGI visuals. Whannell does a great job of using the camera to suggest where his invisible man is, letting the camera drift to suspicious empty parts of the frame, or have shots linger after the primary actors have departed, as if to catch the reaction shot of someone who should be standing there. The action scenes and the traditional "Invisible Man" effects sequences are handled well, but kept fairly brief. This is for the best, because floating guns and knives always end up looking awfully silly the longer they're onscreen, and Elizabeth Moss is more than capable of generating plenty of terror and paranoia by herself. I don't think this is the best version of "The Invisible Man," but it's a good one, and a very fitting one for 2020.
Now, on to the Spanish language film, "The Platform," recently released by Netflix. This is a much more brutal and much more blunt cinematic allegory, representing the whole of human society with a very tall tower called "The Hole." Each numbered level holds two people, and food is delivered once a day via a large platform that is lowered through the shaft that runs the length of the building from the top to the bottom. However, because the people on the top levels gorge themselves, the people on the lower levels go without - and no one knows how many levels there are. Our protagonist, a man named Goreng (Iván Massagué), wakes up on level 48, and is thrust into this brutal system of horrific inequality with only a copy of "Don Quixote" to aid in his survival. Other characters include Goreng's roommate Trimagasi (Zorion Eguileor), an idealist named Imoguiri (Antonia San Juan), an escape-fixated man named Baharat (Emilio Buale Coka), and a violent woman named Miharu (Alexandra Masangkay) who is searching for a lost child.
Though "The Platform" shares similar themes with movies like "Snowpiercer" and "High Rise," its closest cinematic relative is Vicenzo Natali's "Cube." From the industrial, bare bones sets, to the grotesque savagery of the Hole's inhabitants, to the implacable mechanical precision of the Hole's operation, "The Platform" portrays an inescapable capitalist nightmare system full of death and madness. It's also a wonderfully disgusting film - lots of gore, splatter, and people messily consuming massive amounts of food. The characters are better defined than the characters in "Cube," however, with each person representing different moral philosophies or attitudes toward the social order instead of just different social groups. I like that the film actively tries to grapple with big ideas, and finds room for moments of grisly black humor. The standout performance is that of Eguileor as Trimagasi, who cheerfully rationalizes grim atrocities.
The metaphor of the Hole ends up being much more interesting than the story that takes place in it, and the ending is one of those contrived, ambiguous resolutions that feel a bit like the filmmakers ran out of time or money. I like the earlier parts of the film, where Goreng is gradually learning about his circumstances and figuring out how the system works, considerably more than the action-oriented back half where he tries to overthrow it. However, the film is consistently clever, does an impressive amount with limited resources, and leaves plenty for viewers to chew over.
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Sunday, June 28, 2020
Thursday, June 25, 2020
I Guess I Gotta Talk About the Snyder Cut
Seriously, I would have been happy to never have to think about the "Justice League" movie ever again. However, in order to beef up their offerings, HBO Go has commissioned a new version of the "Justice League" movie, to be overseen by Zack Snyder. Snyder, if you remember, left the directing chair in order to deal with a terrible family tragedy while "Justice League" was in production, and Warners turned the film over to Joss Whedon, who obviously had very different ideas of what to do with the material. The movie came out, was widely dismissed, and the DC Cinematic Universe moved on to better things.
However, a hypothetical secret Snyder cut of "Justice League" has turned into a running joke and hashtag, but the more ardent DC fans have latched on to the idea. Some have been campaigning quite seriously for #ReleasetheSnyderCut to happen. However, a Snyder cut doesn't actually exist because Snyder left the film before any post-production or special effects could be completed. There's a rough three-and-a-half-hour assembly of footage, but that's about it. Usually, when we're talking about directors' cuts of films, we're talking about final edits of completed films - changes might include a couple of restored scenes, some technical fixes, and maybe a re-edited sequence or two. It's only the very rare project, like Steven Spielberg being asked to show the inside of the UFO mothership for a "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" special edition, or Richard Donner's extensively altered "Superman II," where you have new footage created specifically for a different cut.
So to say that it was shocking when the HBO Go honchos announced that the Snyder Cut was going to premiere next year as an HBO Go exclusive, was putting it mildly. This is, frankly, something unprecedented. Warners Bros. are going to be spending millions for Snyder to make that grandiose four hour epic he originally envisioned, meaning at least an hour of new scenes and tons of expensive effects work. In addition, we'll likely see the finished product released in several installments, more like a miniseries event. There's already a very quick teaser trailer online that's essentially three shots of unused "Justice League" footage and some ominous music, segueing into clips of the Zoom watch party where the official Snyder Cut announcement was made by Snyder and Henry Cavill.
While some fans are clearly happy with this turn of events, I'm not looking forward to it. When left entirely to his own devices, Zack Snyder gave us two different, terrible cuts of "Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice," one of the most god awful movies I've ever seen, and the clear low point of the DC franchise to date. Snyder's not a bad filmmaker, but an awful choice for this material from day one. Say what you will about Joss Whedon, but at least he turned in a version of "Justice League" that was narratively coherent and had a few bright spots, like Aquaman's encounter with Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth. I'd actually be okay with a more limited kind of director's cut, maybe fixing Henry Cavill's CGI upper lip, or adding some smaller scenes to clear up parts of the chaotic storyline.
What really bothers me is that I've had a hard time with the recent DC film franchise, and I place a lot of the blame on Zack Snyder's directorial choices. I feel that the movies have been progressively getting better since "Justice League," without his influence, even if they haven't been the biggest hits. "Aquaman," "Shazam!" "Joker," and "Birds of Prey" have all managed to distinguish themselves, largely by moving away from Snyder's morose, desaturated style and avoiding any ongoing storylines that might tie them too closely to the other DC movies. Dragging Snyder back into the spotlight after all this feels an awful lot like backsliding into bad habits.
The pandering to the less savory parts of the fanbase is also a problem. There have been plenty of pieces written already about the dangers of emboldening fans by giving into bullying tactics, and apparently some of the #ReleasetheSnyderCut proponents are pretty toxic. However, this doesn't strike me as Warners giving in so much as taking advantage of whatever goodwill they can still squeeze out of the Snyder fans. And if the new version of "Justice League" makes those fans so happy, why should we rain on their parade?
Still, I look at that teaser trailer, and all I feel is depressed and disappointed all over again.
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However, a hypothetical secret Snyder cut of "Justice League" has turned into a running joke and hashtag, but the more ardent DC fans have latched on to the idea. Some have been campaigning quite seriously for #ReleasetheSnyderCut to happen. However, a Snyder cut doesn't actually exist because Snyder left the film before any post-production or special effects could be completed. There's a rough three-and-a-half-hour assembly of footage, but that's about it. Usually, when we're talking about directors' cuts of films, we're talking about final edits of completed films - changes might include a couple of restored scenes, some technical fixes, and maybe a re-edited sequence or two. It's only the very rare project, like Steven Spielberg being asked to show the inside of the UFO mothership for a "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" special edition, or Richard Donner's extensively altered "Superman II," where you have new footage created specifically for a different cut.
So to say that it was shocking when the HBO Go honchos announced that the Snyder Cut was going to premiere next year as an HBO Go exclusive, was putting it mildly. This is, frankly, something unprecedented. Warners Bros. are going to be spending millions for Snyder to make that grandiose four hour epic he originally envisioned, meaning at least an hour of new scenes and tons of expensive effects work. In addition, we'll likely see the finished product released in several installments, more like a miniseries event. There's already a very quick teaser trailer online that's essentially three shots of unused "Justice League" footage and some ominous music, segueing into clips of the Zoom watch party where the official Snyder Cut announcement was made by Snyder and Henry Cavill.
While some fans are clearly happy with this turn of events, I'm not looking forward to it. When left entirely to his own devices, Zack Snyder gave us two different, terrible cuts of "Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice," one of the most god awful movies I've ever seen, and the clear low point of the DC franchise to date. Snyder's not a bad filmmaker, but an awful choice for this material from day one. Say what you will about Joss Whedon, but at least he turned in a version of "Justice League" that was narratively coherent and had a few bright spots, like Aquaman's encounter with Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth. I'd actually be okay with a more limited kind of director's cut, maybe fixing Henry Cavill's CGI upper lip, or adding some smaller scenes to clear up parts of the chaotic storyline.
What really bothers me is that I've had a hard time with the recent DC film franchise, and I place a lot of the blame on Zack Snyder's directorial choices. I feel that the movies have been progressively getting better since "Justice League," without his influence, even if they haven't been the biggest hits. "Aquaman," "Shazam!" "Joker," and "Birds of Prey" have all managed to distinguish themselves, largely by moving away from Snyder's morose, desaturated style and avoiding any ongoing storylines that might tie them too closely to the other DC movies. Dragging Snyder back into the spotlight after all this feels an awful lot like backsliding into bad habits.
The pandering to the less savory parts of the fanbase is also a problem. There have been plenty of pieces written already about the dangers of emboldening fans by giving into bullying tactics, and apparently some of the #ReleasetheSnyderCut proponents are pretty toxic. However, this doesn't strike me as Warners giving in so much as taking advantage of whatever goodwill they can still squeeze out of the Snyder fans. And if the new version of "Justice League" makes those fans so happy, why should we rain on their parade?
Still, I look at that teaser trailer, and all I feel is depressed and disappointed all over again.
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Tuesday, June 23, 2020
My Top Ten Episodes of "Preacher"
Now that "Preacher" has wrapped up after 43 episodes, I'm writing up my list of the top ten episodes, unranked. Individual entries are ordered below by airdate, and there will be spoilers below for the entire series. Enjoy.
"Pilot" - I thought that the show got off to a great start, exploding Tom Cruise and giving all the major characters their introductions. The reveal about Cassidy is especially fun, and sets the bar for the show's use of over-the-top violence and mayhem. I got over my qualms about the show sticking to one location, the town of Annville, when it became clear that there was plenty of trouble coming their way.
"Sundowner" - This is the episode with the fight in the hotel with the seraphim, the signature action sequence of the first season that leaves heaps of corpses and plenty of gore, despite there really only being four combatants involved. This is also the episode where Jesse sends Eugene to Hell, revealing a little more about the extent of Genesis's power, and the troubling nature of Jesse Custer in the process.
"Finish the Song" - The backstory of the Saint of Killers is shown multiple times throughout the first season of "Preacher," culminating in this episode where the full sequence plays over and over in a loop. We finally learn what's going on, and what part the character plays in the story. It's easily the most narratively interesting thing that the series does, and I wish the creators had taken similar risks in the later seasons.
"Call and Response" - The first season finale reveals Heaven to be perpetrating a major hoax, after a wonderfully weird appearance by "God" in the Annville church. The ending is a little convenient, but I like that it nicely sets up the next phase of the series, where the main trio decide to embark on their road trip to find God, and set off in style. The first season committed its share of blunders, but it did right by the main characters.
"On the Road" - Alas, Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy don't really spend all that much time on the road, forever getting sidetracked, stymied, and separated. The second season premiere is one of the few episodes that really sees them covering much ground together, messing with the police, being chased by the Saint of Killers, and learning the limits of Genesis while enjoying the open road. It's just too bad that it couldn't last.
"Mumbai Sky Tower" - The gang discover that Fiore the angel has turned himself into a gory roadside attraction, using his regeneration abilities to repeatedly murder himself for other people's enjoyment. This is a fun callback to "Sundowner," taking full advantage of Fiore's powers to totally drench the set in blood and guts. Notably this is also the last of the episodes directed by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg for the series.
"Pig" - Villainous Herr Starr is one of the show's best creations, and I love everything about Pip Torrens' masochistic weirdo performance. "Pig" delves into Herr Starr's history and his rise to power within the Grail organization. The training and testing scenes are an absolute riot, the show's absurdist black comedy at its best. Sadly, the rest of the episode following Tulip's existential crisis isn't very interesting - and too obvious filler.
"The End of the Road" - The bulk of the second season sees the gang stuck in New Orleans, so it's very gratifying to see them finally unstick themselves. Jesse parts ways with the Grail, Tulip finally has it out with Featherstone, Cassidy faces the truth about Denis, and Eugene and his new pal escape from Hell. We also get some nice setup for Angelville - which is much better than any of the storylines that actually take place in Angelville.
"The Tom/Brady" - The third season of "Preacher" was pretty solid, but didn't have as many obvious highs. However, there was the episode where the Allfather attempts to transfer Genesis into the Humperdoo clones, with very messy results. This episode is also the lynchpin of Cassidy's storyline with Eccarius, and features the best parts of Tulip's brief team-up with Featherstone and the Grail on the Osaka job.
"End of the World" - Finally, I have to admit that Cassidy was my favorite character, and I wish he could have gotten more time and attention. So much was trimmed from his storylines in the comics that little of his backstory or redemption arc remained. Still, I'm glad that the creators gave him the final scene, a fun little finishing touch that felt very fitting for such an outrageous, boundary-pushing series.
---
"Pilot" - I thought that the show got off to a great start, exploding Tom Cruise and giving all the major characters their introductions. The reveal about Cassidy is especially fun, and sets the bar for the show's use of over-the-top violence and mayhem. I got over my qualms about the show sticking to one location, the town of Annville, when it became clear that there was plenty of trouble coming their way.
"Sundowner" - This is the episode with the fight in the hotel with the seraphim, the signature action sequence of the first season that leaves heaps of corpses and plenty of gore, despite there really only being four combatants involved. This is also the episode where Jesse sends Eugene to Hell, revealing a little more about the extent of Genesis's power, and the troubling nature of Jesse Custer in the process.
"Finish the Song" - The backstory of the Saint of Killers is shown multiple times throughout the first season of "Preacher," culminating in this episode where the full sequence plays over and over in a loop. We finally learn what's going on, and what part the character plays in the story. It's easily the most narratively interesting thing that the series does, and I wish the creators had taken similar risks in the later seasons.
"Call and Response" - The first season finale reveals Heaven to be perpetrating a major hoax, after a wonderfully weird appearance by "God" in the Annville church. The ending is a little convenient, but I like that it nicely sets up the next phase of the series, where the main trio decide to embark on their road trip to find God, and set off in style. The first season committed its share of blunders, but it did right by the main characters.
"On the Road" - Alas, Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy don't really spend all that much time on the road, forever getting sidetracked, stymied, and separated. The second season premiere is one of the few episodes that really sees them covering much ground together, messing with the police, being chased by the Saint of Killers, and learning the limits of Genesis while enjoying the open road. It's just too bad that it couldn't last.
"Mumbai Sky Tower" - The gang discover that Fiore the angel has turned himself into a gory roadside attraction, using his regeneration abilities to repeatedly murder himself for other people's enjoyment. This is a fun callback to "Sundowner," taking full advantage of Fiore's powers to totally drench the set in blood and guts. Notably this is also the last of the episodes directed by Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg for the series.
"Pig" - Villainous Herr Starr is one of the show's best creations, and I love everything about Pip Torrens' masochistic weirdo performance. "Pig" delves into Herr Starr's history and his rise to power within the Grail organization. The training and testing scenes are an absolute riot, the show's absurdist black comedy at its best. Sadly, the rest of the episode following Tulip's existential crisis isn't very interesting - and too obvious filler.
"The End of the Road" - The bulk of the second season sees the gang stuck in New Orleans, so it's very gratifying to see them finally unstick themselves. Jesse parts ways with the Grail, Tulip finally has it out with Featherstone, Cassidy faces the truth about Denis, and Eugene and his new pal escape from Hell. We also get some nice setup for Angelville - which is much better than any of the storylines that actually take place in Angelville.
"The Tom/Brady" - The third season of "Preacher" was pretty solid, but didn't have as many obvious highs. However, there was the episode where the Allfather attempts to transfer Genesis into the Humperdoo clones, with very messy results. This episode is also the lynchpin of Cassidy's storyline with Eccarius, and features the best parts of Tulip's brief team-up with Featherstone and the Grail on the Osaka job.
"End of the World" - Finally, I have to admit that Cassidy was my favorite character, and I wish he could have gotten more time and attention. So much was trimmed from his storylines in the comics that little of his backstory or redemption arc remained. Still, I'm glad that the creators gave him the final scene, a fun little finishing touch that felt very fitting for such an outrageous, boundary-pushing series.
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Sunday, June 21, 2020
Behold "Bacurau"
Sometimes I wonder to myself, why do I watch all these obscure foreign art house films, half of which I don't really enjoy? Well, because once in a while, I end up stumbling across something really impactful and exciting, the kind of film that simply could not come out of Hollywood, or even the broader American film industry. Such a film is "Bacurau," a Brazilian feature from Juliano Dornelles and Kleber Mendonça Filho, best known for social dramas "Neighboring Sounds" and "Aquarius." I watched both of those films out of a sense of obligation previously, and my reaction was middling on both. Now I'm very glad I did see them, as they provide a lot of context for "Bacurau."
The opening scene of "Bacurau" takes us from a starry expanse above the Earth, down to the tiny, northeastern Brazilian village of Bacurau. It's a remote place, part of Brazil's backcountry, where there's not much by way of infrastructure and supplies arrive via trucks. The townsfolk are in the middle of a standoff with a corrupt local official, Tony Jr. (Thardelly Lima) over access to the town's water supply. The town's matriarch has recently died, so many family members are visiting for the funeral, including Teresa (Bárbara Colen), who arrives with a suitcase stuffed with vaccines and medicine. She soon takes up with Pacote (Thomas Aquino), a local gangster figure. The town doctor, Domingas (Sonia Braga), shows up to the funeral drunk, and declares the dead woman was a whore.
At this point, I was mentally getting ready for another small scale human drama about life in a rural village, elevating the struggles of the poor inhabitants and shedding light on the political and social injustices that burden them. The Bacurau inhabitants are a colorful lot, including several criminals and prostitutes, who nobody seems to much care are criminals and prostitutes. The filmmakers make no attempt to hide or downplay the roughness of their lives, pointedly showing swarming flies and a town meeting where everyone divides up donated food, much of it expired. On the other hand, the film is said to take place in the near future, and everyone has a cell phone and internet access. In fact, one of the first indications that something is going wrong is that Bacurau disappears from satellite maps of the region.
Past this point, I want to warn of spoilers, because the experience of watching "Bacurau" is better the less you know about it. In fact, the movie does elevate the poor villagers and spotlight social injustices. However, it does so in a totally different way than I was expecting - and in a totally different way than Juliano Dornelles and Kleber Mendonça Filho have ever done before. Though the film retains its ground level realism and very culturally specific lens, the plot takes a turn toward genre territory and never looks back. Strange things start happening around Bacurau - spooked animals, strangers lurking around, and villagers mysteriously turning up dead. And then Udo Kier shows up, and things start getting pretty wild.
I've seen this kind of film before, but the fun of "Bacurau" is that this telling of it is so specific to this region of Brazil and this particular set of circumstances. We don't get to really spend much time with the villagers or examine their lives in much depth, but there's such a wealth of detail in what we do see - the school, the little screening setup in the center of town, the various businesses, the beloved museum, and people's homes. We see who the leaders are, the way everyone is in each other's business, and the way everyone automatically lends a hand on a crisis.
On the flip side, the treatment of the film's villains is hilarious and absurd and I loved it. Sure, there's some tonal clash and some of the actors are a little iffy, but the absolute viciousness of the portrayal, and the richly deserved comeuppance they're served is amazing to see play out. There are a lot of films you could compare this to, but I think the closest is "Cabin in the Woods" for the sheer, giddy audacity and go-for-broke nature of the storytelling. Once it's revealed exactly what kind of film we're watching, everyone really commits to it.
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The opening scene of "Bacurau" takes us from a starry expanse above the Earth, down to the tiny, northeastern Brazilian village of Bacurau. It's a remote place, part of Brazil's backcountry, where there's not much by way of infrastructure and supplies arrive via trucks. The townsfolk are in the middle of a standoff with a corrupt local official, Tony Jr. (Thardelly Lima) over access to the town's water supply. The town's matriarch has recently died, so many family members are visiting for the funeral, including Teresa (Bárbara Colen), who arrives with a suitcase stuffed with vaccines and medicine. She soon takes up with Pacote (Thomas Aquino), a local gangster figure. The town doctor, Domingas (Sonia Braga), shows up to the funeral drunk, and declares the dead woman was a whore.
At this point, I was mentally getting ready for another small scale human drama about life in a rural village, elevating the struggles of the poor inhabitants and shedding light on the political and social injustices that burden them. The Bacurau inhabitants are a colorful lot, including several criminals and prostitutes, who nobody seems to much care are criminals and prostitutes. The filmmakers make no attempt to hide or downplay the roughness of their lives, pointedly showing swarming flies and a town meeting where everyone divides up donated food, much of it expired. On the other hand, the film is said to take place in the near future, and everyone has a cell phone and internet access. In fact, one of the first indications that something is going wrong is that Bacurau disappears from satellite maps of the region.
Past this point, I want to warn of spoilers, because the experience of watching "Bacurau" is better the less you know about it. In fact, the movie does elevate the poor villagers and spotlight social injustices. However, it does so in a totally different way than I was expecting - and in a totally different way than Juliano Dornelles and Kleber Mendonça Filho have ever done before. Though the film retains its ground level realism and very culturally specific lens, the plot takes a turn toward genre territory and never looks back. Strange things start happening around Bacurau - spooked animals, strangers lurking around, and villagers mysteriously turning up dead. And then Udo Kier shows up, and things start getting pretty wild.
I've seen this kind of film before, but the fun of "Bacurau" is that this telling of it is so specific to this region of Brazil and this particular set of circumstances. We don't get to really spend much time with the villagers or examine their lives in much depth, but there's such a wealth of detail in what we do see - the school, the little screening setup in the center of town, the various businesses, the beloved museum, and people's homes. We see who the leaders are, the way everyone is in each other's business, and the way everyone automatically lends a hand on a crisis.
On the flip side, the treatment of the film's villains is hilarious and absurd and I loved it. Sure, there's some tonal clash and some of the actors are a little iffy, but the absolute viciousness of the portrayal, and the richly deserved comeuppance they're served is amazing to see play out. There are a lot of films you could compare this to, but I think the closest is "Cabin in the Woods" for the sheer, giddy audacity and go-for-broke nature of the storytelling. Once it's revealed exactly what kind of film we're watching, everyone really commits to it.
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Friday, June 19, 2020
My Top Ten Films of 1966
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.
Alfie - Michael Caine's breakthrough role was the title character of "Alfie," a womanizing London driver who embodies the spirit of the UK's Swinging Sixties. However, he also reveals its uglier side too. Through his adventures and relationships with various women, he learns the dangers of living a careless lifestyle. "Alfie" is ultimately a cautionary tale, but one told with great energy and wit and style. The film's willingness to tackle taboo subject matter and the career of a very imperfect hero have helped it to remain relevant and relatable to this day. And Caine, or course, hasn't lost a step.
Daisies - The often overlooked Czech new wave produced some memorable films, including this lovely surrealist romp. Two women behave badly, acting like spoiled little girls, upending social conventions and revealing hypocrisies and they carry out their rampage of fun. Vera Chytilová's visuals are a constant delight, a riot of playful, topsy-turvy iconography drawn from the girls' lives of frivolity. Employing fast-motion, image collages, and lots of physical comedy, the film is often breathlessly high energy and unexpected. As surrealist films go, this one is consistently watchable and entertaining.
Persona - Ingmar Bergman's most experimental and formally inventive film is also one of his most iconic. There is a plot, a psychodrama that plays out between the two women played by Liv Ullman and Bibi Andersson, but it only serves as the framework for the real drama that the film portrays, about the fragility of self and identity. Bergman portrays the women's inner lives, relationships, and conflicts through striking visual compositions, the most memorable ones putting their faces in the frame in overlapping positions. The film's power comes from it's simplicity, its starkness and fearless vision.
Seconds - John Frankenheimer specialized in thrillers, and it's thanks to his skill that a B-movie plot is transformed into a grade A exercise in psychological horror. Body swap stories aren't uncommon in film, but it's rare to see one that achieves such an unsettling mood of alienation and paranoia. The film often feels closer in tone to Kafkaesque political thrillers like "The Parallax View" or Frankenheimer's own "The Manchurian Candidate" than any of the science fiction media of the era. Special kudos go to cinematographer James Wong Howe, for his evocative black and white nightmare images.
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? - The directing debut of theater wunderkund Mike Nichols, "Virginia Woolf" marked an important turning point in the emergence of New Hollywood talent. It was a groundbreaker for its enthusiastically coarse language and willingness to embrace controversial subject matter. Elizabeth Taylor got one of her best roles in years, playing an unattractive, older harridan married to Richard Burton's passive-aggressive college professor. Watching their explosive fights and depressive miseries play out during the wreckage of an evening is uncomfortable but engrossing.
Masculin Féminin - I'm not a fan of the work of Jean-Luc Godard, but I can appreciate the charms of this breezy romance, which presents a candid look at Paris in the age of the Nouvelle Vague, and "The Children of Marx and Coca-Cola." Godard uses documentary techniques, including interviews, to immerse the viewer in the environment and capture the spirit of the era. We see how his young lovers are shaped and influenced by their society and culture, and where that ultimately takes them. And this is the only film where Godard's very particular sense of humor actually lands for me.
Black Girl - African cinema was just starting to be recognized by the international film community in the 1960s, and "Black Girl," from Senegaliese director Ousmane Sembene, was an important early title. Prior to this, there had not been a film made with an African-born director maintaining true creative control. "Black Girl" remains notable not only for its anti-colonialist point of view and depiction of contemporary Africa, but for its character study of a rare black female protagonist. I still find it an immensely touching and relatable immigrant narrative with a remarkable main character.
Django - A spaghetti western and proto-exploitation film that is famously one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite films and a major influence on his work. It is yet another remake of Akira Kurosawa's "Yojimbo," but also takes its cues from American westerns and European comic books. "Django" was considered terribly violent upon initial release, and garnered some controversy. However, it has aged well thanks to its charismatic hero, played by Franco Nero, and inventive, stylish action sequences. And there is no disputing that Django, of all of cinema's celebrated gunfighters, has the best theme song.
Cul-de-Sac - The Roman Polanski black comedy and psychological thriller that depicts a farcical hostage situation that goes very badly for the hostage-takers. The nervy tone manages to balance thrills and nervous giggles as a pair of brutish gangsters go up against the deeply neurotic bourgeoisie couple they've clearly underestimated. The social satire and nerve-wracking jaunts into horror are potent stuff, but it's the absurdity with which they're presented that really gives the film its edge. There had been hostage comedies before, but few that managed to maintain this much suspense and intensity.
Blowup - Finally, Michelangelo Antonioni was known for ambiguous, difficult art films. However, when he took on a murder mystery set in '60s Britain, full of explicit sexuality and jazz music, the results scandalized the censors and resulted in a smash hit. Despite its unlikely popularity, "Blowup" is very much an Antonioni film, full of ambiguity with a central puzzle that is never actually resolved. However, it's also a fascinating snapshot of mod culture, the fashion world, and alienated youth. It was exactly the right film at the right time, and unfortunately for Antonioni, he never hit on that combination again.
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Alfie - Michael Caine's breakthrough role was the title character of "Alfie," a womanizing London driver who embodies the spirit of the UK's Swinging Sixties. However, he also reveals its uglier side too. Through his adventures and relationships with various women, he learns the dangers of living a careless lifestyle. "Alfie" is ultimately a cautionary tale, but one told with great energy and wit and style. The film's willingness to tackle taboo subject matter and the career of a very imperfect hero have helped it to remain relevant and relatable to this day. And Caine, or course, hasn't lost a step.
Daisies - The often overlooked Czech new wave produced some memorable films, including this lovely surrealist romp. Two women behave badly, acting like spoiled little girls, upending social conventions and revealing hypocrisies and they carry out their rampage of fun. Vera Chytilová's visuals are a constant delight, a riot of playful, topsy-turvy iconography drawn from the girls' lives of frivolity. Employing fast-motion, image collages, and lots of physical comedy, the film is often breathlessly high energy and unexpected. As surrealist films go, this one is consistently watchable and entertaining.
Persona - Ingmar Bergman's most experimental and formally inventive film is also one of his most iconic. There is a plot, a psychodrama that plays out between the two women played by Liv Ullman and Bibi Andersson, but it only serves as the framework for the real drama that the film portrays, about the fragility of self and identity. Bergman portrays the women's inner lives, relationships, and conflicts through striking visual compositions, the most memorable ones putting their faces in the frame in overlapping positions. The film's power comes from it's simplicity, its starkness and fearless vision.
Seconds - John Frankenheimer specialized in thrillers, and it's thanks to his skill that a B-movie plot is transformed into a grade A exercise in psychological horror. Body swap stories aren't uncommon in film, but it's rare to see one that achieves such an unsettling mood of alienation and paranoia. The film often feels closer in tone to Kafkaesque political thrillers like "The Parallax View" or Frankenheimer's own "The Manchurian Candidate" than any of the science fiction media of the era. Special kudos go to cinematographer James Wong Howe, for his evocative black and white nightmare images.
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? - The directing debut of theater wunderkund Mike Nichols, "Virginia Woolf" marked an important turning point in the emergence of New Hollywood talent. It was a groundbreaker for its enthusiastically coarse language and willingness to embrace controversial subject matter. Elizabeth Taylor got one of her best roles in years, playing an unattractive, older harridan married to Richard Burton's passive-aggressive college professor. Watching their explosive fights and depressive miseries play out during the wreckage of an evening is uncomfortable but engrossing.
Masculin Féminin - I'm not a fan of the work of Jean-Luc Godard, but I can appreciate the charms of this breezy romance, which presents a candid look at Paris in the age of the Nouvelle Vague, and "The Children of Marx and Coca-Cola." Godard uses documentary techniques, including interviews, to immerse the viewer in the environment and capture the spirit of the era. We see how his young lovers are shaped and influenced by their society and culture, and where that ultimately takes them. And this is the only film where Godard's very particular sense of humor actually lands for me.
Black Girl - African cinema was just starting to be recognized by the international film community in the 1960s, and "Black Girl," from Senegaliese director Ousmane Sembene, was an important early title. Prior to this, there had not been a film made with an African-born director maintaining true creative control. "Black Girl" remains notable not only for its anti-colonialist point of view and depiction of contemporary Africa, but for its character study of a rare black female protagonist. I still find it an immensely touching and relatable immigrant narrative with a remarkable main character.
Django - A spaghetti western and proto-exploitation film that is famously one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite films and a major influence on his work. It is yet another remake of Akira Kurosawa's "Yojimbo," but also takes its cues from American westerns and European comic books. "Django" was considered terribly violent upon initial release, and garnered some controversy. However, it has aged well thanks to its charismatic hero, played by Franco Nero, and inventive, stylish action sequences. And there is no disputing that Django, of all of cinema's celebrated gunfighters, has the best theme song.
Cul-de-Sac - The Roman Polanski black comedy and psychological thriller that depicts a farcical hostage situation that goes very badly for the hostage-takers. The nervy tone manages to balance thrills and nervous giggles as a pair of brutish gangsters go up against the deeply neurotic bourgeoisie couple they've clearly underestimated. The social satire and nerve-wracking jaunts into horror are potent stuff, but it's the absurdity with which they're presented that really gives the film its edge. There had been hostage comedies before, but few that managed to maintain this much suspense and intensity.
Blowup - Finally, Michelangelo Antonioni was known for ambiguous, difficult art films. However, when he took on a murder mystery set in '60s Britain, full of explicit sexuality and jazz music, the results scandalized the censors and resulted in a smash hit. Despite its unlikely popularity, "Blowup" is very much an Antonioni film, full of ambiguity with a central puzzle that is never actually resolved. However, it's also a fascinating snapshot of mod culture, the fashion world, and alienated youth. It was exactly the right film at the right time, and unfortunately for Antonioni, he never hit on that combination again.
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Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Why Are They Pushing Back the Oscars?
Due to the Coronavirus situation, the 2021 Oscars are being pushed back about two months to April 25. More importantly, the eligibility window for these Oscars is also being extended by two months, to the end of February. Note that this extension doesn't apply to "specialty" categories like animated films, documentaries, or any international releases. The Academy is essentially giving the studios an extra two months to get its planned award season contenders out in theaters. And frankly, I find this kind of infuriating.
I understand some of the reasoning for the move. The Oscars largely exist to be a marketing tool for the movie industry, and the movie industry has been hit especially hard by the pandemic. The prestige films losing the awards season boost from the Oscars would be a catastrophe. Since all of the spring and summer blockbuster films are being crammed into the fall, this means that the prestige films are being squeezed later into the winter months. In a regular year, there's already a mad crush of films being released at the end of December for awards eligibility. This year would be much worse, even with the Academy adjusting the rules to allow digital releases to be eligible for awards this year.
However, it's not like there haven't already been plenty of awards-worthy films released this year. There have been a lot of jokes about "Sonic the Hedgehog" or "Bad Boys 4 Life" being up for Best Picture, but I like "Da 5 Bloods," "Emma," "Never, Rarely, Sometimes, Always," "Shirley," "The Invisible Man," and "Wendy" for potential contenders. Upcoming 2020 titles that look very promising include "Tenet," "Mank," "Soul," "The French Dispatch," "West Side Story" and "The Personal History of David Copperfield." Delaying the award ceremony itself is one thing, but extending the eligibility window strikes me as unnecessary when there are already going to be plenty of titles to fill in the nominee slots. Frankly, less competition would be a nice change too, because it would give some less traditional contenders like "Invisible Man" a shot.
I can only speculate about some of the reasoning behind the decision, but speculate I will. Limiting the awards to the calendar year of 2020 might be seen as giving the advantage to the films that premiered on streaming services. Netflix has been gunning for a Best Picture win for the last few years, and this could be their best chance at victory. They're fielding several big hopefuls this year, including "Da 5 Bloods" and "Mank." However, with theatrical exhibition having suffered such a blow, and with several prominent members of the film community strongly advocating for support of theaters, sentiments may be more sympathetic toward boosting the chances of traditional theatrical releases. Many of the Academy's fussier rules have been all about protecting and promoting theatrical exhibition, and theater owners will definitely benefit from more eligible films in the mix.
This decision may also be related to another major rule change. The Best Picture nominations will be fixed at ten slots going forward, after a decade of varying between eight and nine. The given reason is that this will help to promote more diverse nominees. Extending the eligibility period may help to ensure more quality nominees to fill those extra slots - which, again, I don't think is necessary. One drawback I don't think anyone thought through is that if the Oscars move the eligibility window into 2021, we might end up with fewer films available for the 2022 awards.
However, the most likely reason for the rule change is simply because the studios and distributors wanted this for economic reasons. The film industry is very time sensitive, and delaying so many films for an entire year until the next awards season will be very costly. Note that the eligibility exception is only applicable to general releases, meaning none of the films in the niche categories that arguably need it more will be able to take advantage of it. That nixes any of the arguments that this is being done to ensure more or better nominees.
In the end, there's no guarantee that a vaccine will be available next year, or that audiences will be ready to go back to theaters for the foreseeable future. There's still a strong possibility that a second wave of Coronavirus will force further closures in the fall. It might make more sense to cancel the awards entirely and lump 2020 and 2021 together, depending on how the rest of the year goes. There's too much up in the air to say anything for sure, but I'm pretty sure this isn't the last round of changes we're going to see before the next Oscar night.
---
I understand some of the reasoning for the move. The Oscars largely exist to be a marketing tool for the movie industry, and the movie industry has been hit especially hard by the pandemic. The prestige films losing the awards season boost from the Oscars would be a catastrophe. Since all of the spring and summer blockbuster films are being crammed into the fall, this means that the prestige films are being squeezed later into the winter months. In a regular year, there's already a mad crush of films being released at the end of December for awards eligibility. This year would be much worse, even with the Academy adjusting the rules to allow digital releases to be eligible for awards this year.
However, it's not like there haven't already been plenty of awards-worthy films released this year. There have been a lot of jokes about "Sonic the Hedgehog" or "Bad Boys 4 Life" being up for Best Picture, but I like "Da 5 Bloods," "Emma," "Never, Rarely, Sometimes, Always," "Shirley," "The Invisible Man," and "Wendy" for potential contenders. Upcoming 2020 titles that look very promising include "Tenet," "Mank," "Soul," "The French Dispatch," "West Side Story" and "The Personal History of David Copperfield." Delaying the award ceremony itself is one thing, but extending the eligibility window strikes me as unnecessary when there are already going to be plenty of titles to fill in the nominee slots. Frankly, less competition would be a nice change too, because it would give some less traditional contenders like "Invisible Man" a shot.
I can only speculate about some of the reasoning behind the decision, but speculate I will. Limiting the awards to the calendar year of 2020 might be seen as giving the advantage to the films that premiered on streaming services. Netflix has been gunning for a Best Picture win for the last few years, and this could be their best chance at victory. They're fielding several big hopefuls this year, including "Da 5 Bloods" and "Mank." However, with theatrical exhibition having suffered such a blow, and with several prominent members of the film community strongly advocating for support of theaters, sentiments may be more sympathetic toward boosting the chances of traditional theatrical releases. Many of the Academy's fussier rules have been all about protecting and promoting theatrical exhibition, and theater owners will definitely benefit from more eligible films in the mix.
This decision may also be related to another major rule change. The Best Picture nominations will be fixed at ten slots going forward, after a decade of varying between eight and nine. The given reason is that this will help to promote more diverse nominees. Extending the eligibility period may help to ensure more quality nominees to fill those extra slots - which, again, I don't think is necessary. One drawback I don't think anyone thought through is that if the Oscars move the eligibility window into 2021, we might end up with fewer films available for the 2022 awards.
However, the most likely reason for the rule change is simply because the studios and distributors wanted this for economic reasons. The film industry is very time sensitive, and delaying so many films for an entire year until the next awards season will be very costly. Note that the eligibility exception is only applicable to general releases, meaning none of the films in the niche categories that arguably need it more will be able to take advantage of it. That nixes any of the arguments that this is being done to ensure more or better nominees.
In the end, there's no guarantee that a vaccine will be available next year, or that audiences will be ready to go back to theaters for the foreseeable future. There's still a strong possibility that a second wave of Coronavirus will force further closures in the fall. It might make more sense to cancel the awards entirely and lump 2020 and 2021 together, depending on how the rest of the year goes. There's too much up in the air to say anything for sure, but I'm pretty sure this isn't the last round of changes we're going to see before the next Oscar night.
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Monday, June 15, 2020
How Do I Write About "Ronny/Lily"?
So, a few weeks ago I wrote up a post on the first four episodes of the first season of HBO comedy "Barry," concluding that the show was not for me, even though it clearly did some things very well. I fully intended to drop the show from my watch list. However, I kept seeing references to a second season episode, "Ronny/Lily," which helped win the show a couple of Emmys, and has generally been pointed to as the high point of the series to date. My curiosity got the better of me and I watched it. And it's fantastic. And I still have no interest in watching "Barry."
"Ronny/Lily" is a format breaking one-shot episode, completely different from anything else that "Barry" has done so far. It focuses on two characters, Bill Hader's reluctant assassin Barry, and Stephen Root's Monroe Fuches, Barry's uncle and handler. The whole episode chronicles a hit gone wrong, using a more surreal style, a different type of action than the norm, and Barry is noticeably off his game the whole time, bordering on incompetent. It is only peripherally connected to any of the ongoing storylines from the second season of "Barry." It's also probably the best thirty minutes of action comedy I've seen in any medium since the first "Community" paintball episode.
But what do I do with "Ronny/Lily"? How do I parse it? It's absolutely a part of "Barry," but a big reason why I like it is because it's such a major break from form and doesn't feature any of the elements I had trouble with in the first season. The acting class antics are nowhere in sight. All the clips I've watched from the season, including NoHo Hank's "50/50 with Cristobal" bit that's gone viral, don't look anything like "Ronny/Lily." I feel like I've stumbled into the "Fiona and Cake" problem again, where I was only interested in the rare "Adventure Time" episodes featuring the gender-swapped versions of the leads. Is it okay for me to just treat the episode like a one-shot and ignore the context of everything around it? But how do I analyze it in any meaningful way without the other episodes from the season? It's a great episode, but is it a great episode of "Barry"?
I think part of the problem here is that I've gone for so long now without having to put up with the vagaries of broadcast television, and I've gotten too used to having everything on demand. I don't stumble across random episodes of random shows the way I used to in the past. I don't watch things just because they happen to be airing at the right time, on a non-fuzzy channel. It's hard for me to put aside my completist tendencies and just take an episode as a singular piece of entertainment. On this blog, I almost always talk about shows in terms of full seasons. Sure, there are standout episodes of everything, but aside from anthology series, I feel like the best way to watch them is in the context of a full season of television.
On the other hand, this mindset is a big reason why I've been reluctant to try many series. The commitment required to watch certain shows can be considerable, when you don't approach anything as casual viewing anymore. Frankly, it can be downright detrimental. Though there is more serialization in shows than there used to be, many of them - especially the comedies - are still designed so that their episodes can be watched individually, out of order. I never had a problem dropping in for the occasional episode of "The Big Bang Theory" or "The Office" when I was still watching those shows intermittently. Why shouldn't I just watch "Two Cathedrals" instead of starting "The West Wing" from the beginning? Or that Thanksgiving episode of "Master of None"? Or that one good episode of "Castle Rock"?
And if they're worth writing about, I should be writing posts about individual episodes. And "Ronny/Lily" is one of those rare examples that completely deserves the attention. It's so beautifully bizarre and absurd and far more entertaining than I thought possible. Daniel Bernhardt and Jessie Giacomazzi guest starring as the title characters deserve all the kudos they can carry. I'm not even all that perturbed anymore that Bill Hader won an Emmy for directing the episode. It really is that good.
And I've got more one-offs to go looking for.
---
"Ronny/Lily" is a format breaking one-shot episode, completely different from anything else that "Barry" has done so far. It focuses on two characters, Bill Hader's reluctant assassin Barry, and Stephen Root's Monroe Fuches, Barry's uncle and handler. The whole episode chronicles a hit gone wrong, using a more surreal style, a different type of action than the norm, and Barry is noticeably off his game the whole time, bordering on incompetent. It is only peripherally connected to any of the ongoing storylines from the second season of "Barry." It's also probably the best thirty minutes of action comedy I've seen in any medium since the first "Community" paintball episode.
But what do I do with "Ronny/Lily"? How do I parse it? It's absolutely a part of "Barry," but a big reason why I like it is because it's such a major break from form and doesn't feature any of the elements I had trouble with in the first season. The acting class antics are nowhere in sight. All the clips I've watched from the season, including NoHo Hank's "50/50 with Cristobal" bit that's gone viral, don't look anything like "Ronny/Lily." I feel like I've stumbled into the "Fiona and Cake" problem again, where I was only interested in the rare "Adventure Time" episodes featuring the gender-swapped versions of the leads. Is it okay for me to just treat the episode like a one-shot and ignore the context of everything around it? But how do I analyze it in any meaningful way without the other episodes from the season? It's a great episode, but is it a great episode of "Barry"?
I think part of the problem here is that I've gone for so long now without having to put up with the vagaries of broadcast television, and I've gotten too used to having everything on demand. I don't stumble across random episodes of random shows the way I used to in the past. I don't watch things just because they happen to be airing at the right time, on a non-fuzzy channel. It's hard for me to put aside my completist tendencies and just take an episode as a singular piece of entertainment. On this blog, I almost always talk about shows in terms of full seasons. Sure, there are standout episodes of everything, but aside from anthology series, I feel like the best way to watch them is in the context of a full season of television.
On the other hand, this mindset is a big reason why I've been reluctant to try many series. The commitment required to watch certain shows can be considerable, when you don't approach anything as casual viewing anymore. Frankly, it can be downright detrimental. Though there is more serialization in shows than there used to be, many of them - especially the comedies - are still designed so that their episodes can be watched individually, out of order. I never had a problem dropping in for the occasional episode of "The Big Bang Theory" or "The Office" when I was still watching those shows intermittently. Why shouldn't I just watch "Two Cathedrals" instead of starting "The West Wing" from the beginning? Or that Thanksgiving episode of "Master of None"? Or that one good episode of "Castle Rock"?
And if they're worth writing about, I should be writing posts about individual episodes. And "Ronny/Lily" is one of those rare examples that completely deserves the attention. It's so beautifully bizarre and absurd and far more entertaining than I thought possible. Daniel Bernhardt and Jessie Giacomazzi guest starring as the title characters deserve all the kudos they can carry. I'm not even all that perturbed anymore that Bill Hader won an Emmy for directing the episode. It really is that good.
And I've got more one-offs to go looking for.
---
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