Review: Drive (2011, Refn)
21 Sep 2011 5 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, 2011 film, adaptation, Albert Brooks, American genre film, Based on a Novel, blog review, Drive, film review, Genre Filmmaking, homage, influence, James Sallis, Nicolas Winding Refn, Noir, Ryan Gosling
Originally posted on Criterion Cast: September 21st, 2011
Drive (2011, Refn)
It is an all too uncommon feeling when a film ends and you realize you are not yet ready to leave its world. This is the feeling I had when Drive ended, Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest film (and his first American one). It is a slick retro ride, filled with homage and influence, operating as a nostalgic demonstration of American genre filmmaking and oozing European sensibilities, complete with existentialist sleaze and minimalist touches. It is a hybrid creature that dabbles in a number of genres that are all in harmony through Refn’s infectious appreciation for using cinema to create mood and atmosphere.
Ryan Gosling plays The Driver, part of the class of ‘strong silent type’ who has popped up in many films as varied as The Man with No Name Trilogy, Le Samourai and Taxi Driver, to name a few. Through a newly found connection with neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and a series of unfortunate circumstances, The Driver gets himself caught up in a sticky situation which he ultimately takes control of via the unwavering conviction he displays once he has made the decision to protect.
Since the characters and story of Drive take a backseat to presentation, the film is told with simple efficiency. Drive is working in full-on archetypal territory and it is a clear purposeful choice. As much as Refn creates something evocative from a directorial point of view, I would argue that Gosling’s anchoring of the material provides an almost equally satisfying and necessary contribution. The Driver may belong to an archetype, but like many of his previous incarnations, Gosling (with the help of Refn and screenwriter Hossein Amini) makes his version singular. His ability to emote layers through silence is not only impressive but transfixing. Gone is the hard masculinity one expects to find with this type of role. Even when taking into account the brutal acts of violence he commits, in large part he is seen as a child. This is clear through The Driver’s scenes with Irene’s son Benicio (Kaden Leos). The Driver is referred to as ‘Kid’ by several other characters. In one scene where he and Benicio are talking, another character shouts for ‘Kid’ to come over. Both man and child shuffle over in response.
Through careful observance, we get to know The Driver as he interacts with others. What gets him to lift his head, to verbally respond, intervene or snap at someone? Since Gosling keeps you watching with intent, we in turn care about the answers to these ‘what gets him to’ queries. The audience barely knows him but through his first interactions with Irene, it is easy to tell this is a situation outside of his comfort zone as he responds with passive hesitancy.
The scenes between The Driver and Irene are largely silent. Drive dips into heist territory at its start but primarily begins as a romance in its first third. Their scenes are unspoken and pure. And in a conscious choice to emphasis the silence over dialogue between the two, when they do speak, their communication lacks comparatively.
It is clear that Refn has been influenced at every turn. But it is not a hollow experience; far from it. Perhaps what impressed me the most about Drive is the smoothness with which Refn blends what is a clear unabashed love for both high and low art. He lets them bleed together in what can be succinctly described as effortless cool. There is a stable assuredness in every shot, every movement and every creative choice made here. One cannot help but want to revisit Drive and explore those choices, the motivations behind them and why they work as well as they do. This is confident filmmaking on display. The mere construction of it is something to behold.
Topping off this retro vision is Cliff Martinez’s score which is very clearly tipping its hat to 80’s synth Euro-pop, particularly Tangerine Dream with a delicate touch of Kraftwerk. At the point where the opening credits sequence enter with its splayed cursive hot pink font accompanied by Kavinsky’s ‘Nightcall’, it is practically begging for cinephiles to drool all over it with worship; Drive knows how cool it is and it is not afraid to show off. The lyrics of Martinez’s songs are just overt enough, amusingly walking a fine line between kitsch and corny.
Violence is used to great effect both in how much is shown and exactly when Refn and editor Mat Newman decide to show it. It has an unexpected jolt because it brings the mood-setting to a halt. Instead of making the violence part of the film’s identity like so many do (to wildly varying degrees of success), here violence is used to interrupt the film’s sense of self, existing as a combative force.
There are two characters that make Drive rewarding as a piece of storytelling. One is the Driver and the other is Bernie as played by Albert Brooks. Bernie is in many ways The Driver’s opposite; he largely communicates by telling stories; by speaking. What makes Bernie startling is that the film first humanizes him and then shows us what he is capable of. Brooks has been given a juicy part and he really makes the most of it; it is a terrific performance.
If I have one problem with Drive it is that with archetypes come thankless female characters, and as a result, thankless roles for its actresses. Where Gosling and Brooks (and to a lesser degree Ron Perlman, Bryan Cranston and particularly Oscar Issac) make something of their character types, Carey Mulligan and Christina Hendricks are basically pretty chess pieces within the story. Unfortunately archetypes mean traditional and thus archaic parts for women as Mulligan is there to be protected and Hendricks is there to be a conniving moll.
Style over substance is worth it when there is substance within the style; and that is what Drive has. It tells a simple story with easily identifiable characters, functioning primarily as an exercise in ‘coolness’. But it creates its own world through a mish-mash of influences, thereby forming its own recognizable identity that becomes addictive. With Drive, Refn represents cinema at its most assured, plowing directly into the heart of genre filmmaking.
Screening Log: August-Sept. 14th
14 Sep 2011 Leave a Comment
in 2011, Weekly Screening Log Tags: 1966, 1986, 1987, 1990, 1994, 1997, 1998, 2011, 28 Up, 35 Up, Adaptation: Book, Allan Moyle, Antonio Bandaras, Based on a True Story, blog, blog review, Brad Furman, Bridesmaids, Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff, Captain EO, Catherine Stebbins, Cedar Rapids, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Conan O'Brien Can't Stop, Contagion, Country: France, Craig McCall, Cul-de-Sac, Documentary, Francis Ford Coppola, Gay Cinema, Genre: Comedy, Genre: Horror, Genre: Melodrama, Genre: Sci-fi, Genre: Teen, Genre: Thriller, Helena Bonham-Carter, Iain Softley, John Carpenter, Law of Desire, Live Flesh, Matador, Michael Apted, Miguel Arteta, Of Gods and Men, Paul Feig, Paul Giamatti, Pedro Almodovar, Period Film, Pump Up the Volume, Rodman Flender, Roman Polanski, Short Film, Steven Soderbergh, The Flower of my Secret, The Lincoln Laywer, The Up Series, They Live, Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, Tom McCarthy, Weekly Screening Log, Win Win, Wings of the Dove, Xavier Beauvois
247. Wings of the Dove (1998, Softley): B
249. Win Win (2011, McCarthy): B+
250. Of Gods and Men (2011, Beauvois): B-
251. The Lincoln Lawyer (2011, Furman): B-
252. Cedar Rapids (2011, Arteta): D+
253. Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop (2011, Flender): B
254. Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff (2011, McCall): C+
255. Captain EO (1986, Coppola): What do you give something like Captain EO? I’ll go with a C. It’s awful, but its too irreverently fun to give a lower grade.
256. Pump up the Volume (1990, Moyle): B+
257. Matador (1986, Almodovar): B
258. Law of Desire (1987, Almodovar): B-
259. Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! (1990, Almodovar): A-
260. The Flower of My Secret (1994, Almodovar): B-
261. Cul-de-Sac (1966, Polanski): B+
262. Live Flesh (1997, Almodovar): A-
263. Contagion (2011, Soderbergh): B
264. 28 Up (1985, Apted): A
265. 35 Up (1991, Apted): A
266. Bridesmaids (2011, Fieg): B+
267. They Live (1988, Carpenter): C-
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Review: Contagion (2011, Soderbergh)
14 Sep 2011 2 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, Anna Jacoby-Heron, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, disaster, film review, genre film, Gwenyth Paltrow, Imagenation Abu Dhabi, Jennifer Ehle, Jude Law, Kate Winslet, Laurence Fishburne, Marion Cotillard, Matt Damon, multi-narrative, Participant Media, Peter Andrews, Stephen Mirrione, Steven Soderbergh, Thriller, US, virus, Warner Brothers Pictures
Contagion (2011, Soderbergh)
You know nobody is safe when even Hollywood’s biggest A-list thespians are dropping dead. In Steven Soderbergh and screenwriter Scott Z. Burns’ latest collaboration, virus film Contagion, the element of human contact is the source of fear. In a time when people should theoretically be coming together to help each other, this scenario pushes humanity apart. Contagion is not interested in the sentimental or the personal; that can be left for the majority of this ‘disaster’-like brand of filmmaking. Soderbergh hauntingly and clinically delivers a film about process that juxtaposes the constant forward-motion of the virus and the apparent helplessness of civilization at its mercy.
Contagion takes a cue from other multi-narrative films including Soderbergh’s own Traffic, by tracking the virus’ impact via assorted characters and storylines. The only thing connecting these people is the virus, as you see how it affects them and the part they play in attempting to live and contain, identify, cure, or even propagate hysteria amidst the pandemic. Among them is a father (Matt Damon) from Minneapolis whose wife (Gwyneth Paltrow) is the virus’ first victim immediately followed by their son. Dr. Cheever (Laurence Fishburne) from the Center of Disease Control and Prevention sends Dr. Mears (Kate Winslet), an Epidemic Intelligence Service officer to Minneapolis to investigate and contain the outbreak. CDC scientist Dr. Hextall (Jennifer Ehle) attempts to define the virus and thus a possible antidote. Using his influence to amplified hysteria, Alan Krumweide (Jude Law) claims to know the cure, resulting in riots for a pharmaceutical product known as forsythia. Marion Cotillard plays a WHO epidemiologist who goes to Hong Kong to track the virus’ possible origins.
These are only some of the characters; beyond the star power of the film, it is a fun time seeing people such as John Hawkes, Josie Ho, Demetri Martin, Bryan Cranston, Elliot Gould and Enrico Colantoni pop in for a spell.
Instead of using the virus as a background or excuse to explore interpersonal family dynamics, Contagion does the opposite. Its style and focus creepily align themselves with the virus. Character development is essentially non-existent here because, realistically, it would and should be all about the virus. The hyper-realism approach makes the film feel eerily conceivable and thus, unnerving.
When taken individually, the stories do not resonate. They are not meant to. Most multi-narrative storylines are bound together by theme and coincidence, where they mean something together but could theoretically function as their own coherent story. The storylines in Contagion are bound together by the virus. It is a formal treatment and must be taken as a whole. Characters drop in and out unexpectedly with an inconsistency in rhyme or rhythm. This feels natural; the characters do not feel too manipulated by a pressure to entirely follow through on each thread.
It may not be an issue for the threads of the film to work individually, but it is a problem if they cannot work as part of the ‘big picture’. Marion Cotillard’s storyline is dead on arrival because it does not feel consequential enough. Did it really have to be there? While her final scene sticks, it would have meant a lot more had her previous scenes been more compelling and of value both within the entire framework and on its own.
Too much time is spent with Damon’s onscreen daughter (Anna Jacoby-Heron). It allows for the perception of her father’s grieving, but mostly it fails in its humanistic excuse of a portrayal of an inside look at the average citizen’s ordeal. Her scenes with Damon work well; anything by herself feels like a waste of precious time for an ambitious film that only clocks in at 100 minutes. We could have gotten more from Damon’s character with those minutes.
The film takes up too much time tidying up towards the end and undoes some of the controlled disorder that came before. It gets itself back though, ending with a sequence showing the origin of the virus that remains distressing in its mundaneness.
Some are up-in-arms about the nefarious blogger played by Jude Law. His storyline has been the individual thread provoking the most discussion. At first, I had an assumption that his story would be about the effort to enact change where it is so desperately needed, but even with the tools of social media at his fingertips, he is unable to transform the situation. Oh boy was I wrong. His name is Alan Krumwiede; he sounds like a villain out of a Roald Dahl book. He comes complete with snaggletooth, a smarmy walk and a constant spouting of conspiracy theory drivel. He is the only character here invoking active damage to everyone around him. He is a commentary on the revelation that, with the internet, anyone can have influence. In a pandemic scenario, the internet would be a major player in the spreading of false information, rumor, fear, panic and paranoia, surely invoking mass hysteria. In this way, Burns’ commentary is shrewd; for all the good that technology does allows for the people in Contagion, all it takes is one person and some trusting and desperate people to counteract the positive.
It is the character of Krumweide that elicits objection and why not? He represents blogging and social media, and it’s a pretty sad sight. Caricature, broad generalizations and reductive problems aside, Law’s scenes were the most engaging to take part in. It is a joy to watch Law reap in the sleaze and the mannerisms. Burns uses him to poke fun at the kind of grandstanding we come to expect in film speeches. It feels purposely overt from costuming, makeup and dialogue. He is the most conversational element of Contagion, and thus the most stimulating.
This is some of the best editing and cinematography of the year. Soderbergh’s camerawork, under the moniker Peter Andrews, feels like a petri dish. It feels both sterile and microscopically infected in its naturally bleak tones. The film is shot and edited in a brutally matter-of-fact manner. Stephen Mirrione is largely responsible for the audience’s discomfort as shots showing the minutiae of everyday human contact and ordinary objects acquire deadly connotation. Mirrione’s smartly placed edits allow him to depict death as no-nonsense in its being.
Contagion is admirably to-the-point; all about process in content and all about presentation in form. It wastes little time, as if consciously attempting to keep up with the virus’ life cycle. It is clear by now that it is a film that unnerves because our recognition of its possibility. Contagion never approaches hopelessness; to the contrary, but it does recognize our strengths and weaknesses as a grouped people. Amidst all the seizures, bodies, autopsies, riots and blame, it’s the plausibility that impacts us most. Kate Winslet’s speech about the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic is the scariest thing you will see in a film all year.
Review: TrollHunter (2011, Øvredal)
29 Jun 2011 2 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, André Øvredal, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, film review, Horror, Norwegian Cinema, Otto Jesperson, The Troll Hunter, TrollHunter
Found footage films, almost always taking place within horror, have certainly made themselves a cozy spot in the bevy of subgenres within cinema. Every time one comes out, its detractors call found footage played out and tired. Because these films have such an immediately recognizable and visually set format, it begs to be railed against every time a mediocre offering is released. Yet just because REC 2, The Last Exorcism, Paranormal Activity and now The Troll Hunter underwhelm, does not mean I will write off found footage. They offer a different way of presenting a story; one that places the audience front and center in any given situation, giving it as much potential as any other kind of storytelling. It is hasty to take down found footage just because The Troll Hunter is stuck in its own mild and forgettable limbo.
College student filmmakers Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), Johanna (Johanna Morck) and Kalle (Thomas Larsen) investigate the recent illegal bear hunting taking place in their area. They quickly come upon Hans, played by Norwegian comedian Otto Jesperson, an eccentric hunter who they believe is the culprit. It turns out Hans is a troll hunter sanctioned by the government to control the troll population in the surrounding area. Out of spite for his superiors, he invites the students along while he baits and kills trolls with his UV light, which either turns them to stone or makes them explode.
The Troll Hunter can be appreciated for its humor and take on Norwegian folklore. It boasts an amusing lead performance by Jesperson and is occasionally clever. Perhaps its subtlety would have been more at home within a traditionally executed narrative. Found footage is anything but subtle, thus making itself tonally at odds with its format.
The claim cannot be made that the film is not scary enough because this never seems to be its goal. Not much here is even meant to be scary; the trolls themselves function as creatures to be marveled at more than anything else. They do not function they way other horror movie monsters do; the threat they pose exists only because Hans and the students are actively hunting them. Suspense is rarely built and scares are hard to find, but again, that was never its purpose.
So what is its purpose then? The film is an amusing take on folklore, but it is simply not enough. Never moving past being an agreeable way to spend ninety minutes, the film has a hard time eliciting anything more than the occasional smirk. Still, the creatures are impressively executed and we get a much better look at them than one might expect. There is also some lovely Norwegian landscape on display, albeit with the cinematography required from a found footage film.
Any and all characterization gets thrown onto Hans. Jesperson is putting on a one-man show with his dedicated earnest kook character. He delivers the goods, but the found footage format comes occasionally close to burying the performance. Jesperson is good enough to narrowly avoid that pitfall. The film may be called The Troll Hunter, but that should not mean all of the character development we get from the students consists of basic emoting without differentiate between the three characters. Amazement, amusement, fright and concern are doled out in equal measure. The students are very well cast; I just wish they each had even one simple layer of distinction to make them feel like individuals.
The Troll Hunter never gets off the ground the way it should, always staying one level above dormant. Its decision to steer away from straight horror is not substituted with anything else by writer/director André Øvredal. It may be kind of funny, kind of interesting and kind of clever, but ‘kind of’ is not enough.
Review: The Sword of Doom (1966, Okamoto)
12 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment
in Film Review Tags: 1966, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, film review, Japanese Cinema, jidaigeki, Kihachi Okamoto, samurai, Tatsuya Nakadai, The Sword of Doom, Toshiro Mifune
Originally posted on Criterion Cast June 11th, 2011
We open on a mountaintop. An elderly man (Kamatami Fujiwara) and his granddaughter (Yoko Naito) emerge. He tells her the Buddhist origins of the lands surrounding them. They stop to rest and eat their lunch before beginning their downhill descent. The granddaughter, whose name is Omatsu, goes to find water. The elderly man prays for death so that his granddaughter will be happy and “no longer a pilgrim”. Suddenly, a deep voice calls out “old man”. He turns around and sees a man in black garb, his hat covering his face, smoke all around him. He approaches the elderly man and tells him to step forward and look to the west. The elderly man realizes what is about to happen, but before he can elicit a response; he is struck down with his wish cruelly fulfilled. The murderer is a samurai named Ryunosuke Tsukue (Tatsuya Nakadai), and he is The Sword of Doom’s protagonist.
The Sword of Doom, a jidaigeki set in the tail end of the Edo period, follows the likely psychopathic Ryunosuke through several ‘incidents’. The first involves an upcoming duel with Bunnojo (Ichiro Nakatani). Bunnojo’s wife Ohama (Michiyo Aratama) goes to Ryunosuke begging him to lose the match because Bunnojo is so scared to face him. Ryunosuke agrees to if she gives up her chastity to him. She does, but Bunnojo ends up dead anyways. Outcast, the samurai now lives with Ohama (they also have a son) as a member of the Shinsengumi. It turns out Bunnojo’s brother Hyoma (Yuzo Kayama) has been training with a master swordsman (Toshiro Mifune in a rare supporting role) in order to exact revenge on his brother’s killer. We also follow Omatsu, the young woman from the film’s opening scene, as she tries to find her place in the world and makes a connection with Hyoma.
It is difficult to give a synopsis of The Sword of Doom because the film is, to a degree, open-ended. The source material is “Daibosatsu Tobe” (The Great Buddha Pass), a newspaper serial by author Kaizan Nakazato that ran for three decades. Many versions of the tale have been told, and it is presumably a very familiar story within Japanese culture. There were supposed to be sequels to Kihachi Okamoto’s adaptation, but they fell through, making The Sword of Doom forgivably scattered at times.
At the center of Okamoto’s standout samurai film is the great and legendary Tatsuya Nakadai, forever searing himself into the memories of all who watch The Sword of Doom. Ryunosuke seems at least partially convinced he is thrust into situations that force him to kill, and he does so with a sense of duty and fierce indifference. Nothing affects him; his eyes are glassy and empty but with the slightest hint of longing. He stares off into space, rarely the active participant in a conversation. His interactions with others suggest boredom. He waits for something to instigate a reaction; it is almost an unspoken challenge to everyone who speaks to him. He lives entirely in his own world, without feeling, remorse or connection.
Once Nakadai and director Okamoto get the concrete lifelessness of Ryunosuke across, the viewer’s fascination comes from seeing our protagonist slowly unhinge. Take Shimada’s (Mifune) swordfight in the snow and Ryunosuke’s reaction to the decimation of his associates. For the first time, we are seeing fear on Nakadai’s face. That fear emerges as he realizes he might have met his match in Shimada. That fear carries over into the next scene with Ohama, which Okamoto executes to marvelous effect. The camera is close to Ryunosuke, on his right, and we see that he is still very much shaken over Shimada’s swordsman skills. The emptiness in his eyes has been stirred and something frightened now lies behind them. The camera cuts to Ohama’s perspective, on his left and much farther away. It is clear that she cannot see any difference in his behavior, and from her point of view, it certainly looks like he is acting the way he always does. That first shot though, has shown us that he is not. We can see that Ohama is not failing to see what is in front of her face, because Ryunosuke’s internal dilemma truly is invisible from her point-of-view. Okamoto uses the camera to show how both Ryunosuke and Ohama perceive their conversation within the same scene.
Choreography becomes equivalent to performance art in The Sword of Doom. It is said throughout that Ryunosuke’s style of swordsmanship is very unorthodox; and it does not take an expert to see that. His stance and body language are off-putting and methodical; it is impossible predict what he is thinking, doubly so during a fight. He is alert yet slack and swift as a machine. My experience in this genre may be limited, but Ryunosuke’s style is unlike any samurai fighting I have seen. Several scenes show us how Ryunosuke fights, so we can compare said scenes to the final ten minutes.
The final ten minutes of The Sword of Doom are justifiably well-known to samurai film enthusiasts. It is gutsy and exhausting, showing a kind of physical representation of nihilism. Yes; this is what insanity looks like. Okamoto uses subtle theatrical techniques with lighting and space as Ryunosuke destroys everything in his path. Nakadai is entirely frightening here, and when I say this is a piece of performance art, I mean it. The use of choreography to represent psyche here is shockingly effective. Ryunosuke is haunted by his guilt as he slashes alternately at nothing and at dozens with uncontrolled precision. He stumbles with broad movements. How long can he last like this? This is a man truly unhinged. The Sword of Doom may leave us wanting the sequel we would never get, but in a way, it doesn’t get any more final than that concluding freeze-frame shot.
Review: Passion Play (2011, Glazer)
30 May 2011 3 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, Bill Murray, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, film review, Megan Fox, Mickey Rourke, Mitch Glazer, Passion Play, Passion Play film review
Back in April, Mickey Rourke made a brutally unhinged comment about two of his upcoming films, Passion Play and 13. He called them both ‘terrible’. Naturally, this sparked curiosity on just how bad the former, Mitch Glazer’s straight-to-DVD directorial debut would be. Is it terrible? In a word, yes. Yes, it is terrible. Passion Play is so misguidedly earnest that it garners the kind of response one has when a toddler tries to walk but is not quite ready. ‘Oh, look at him trying to walk! Isn’t that sweet!’ has been replaced with ‘Oh, look at him trying to make a film! Isn’t that…oh…’ Bogged down in painful noir clichés and rote sentimentality, Passion Play has enough unintentional laugh-out-loud moments that will hurdle it into turkey infamy.
Rourke plays Nate Poole, a down-on-his-luck trumpeter who is in some trouble with gangster Happy Shannon (Bill Murray), after sleeping with Shannon’s wife. Narrowly escaping death (he is saved by random snipers, who are never explained) Nate finds himself at a traveling circus where he meets Lilly (Megan Fox), a woman with wings. She has been brought up by Sam (Rhys Ifans), who runs the circus. Nate and Lilly apparently have enough of a connection in one conversation to escape the clutches of Sam and run off together. Nate secretly plans on exploiting her with Shannon in exchange for his life. As the two enter a relationship, Nate regrets his betrayal and sets out on saving Lilly from the predicament he has put her in.
The weakest element of Passion Play is the script. For all the inertness of the film, the amateurish and nonsensical script is where the films disastrous seed was sown. For starters, the plot is thoroughly implausible, never making us forget how ridiculous its base concept is. Another filmmaker could have scrapped the script, started with the concept and created something delightfully weird and bizarre. Instead, we get a film that takes itself so seriously, clearly believing it has crafted an engaging modern-day fable. The feeling that Glazer was really trying hard to make something good out of a script he clearly believes in, makes the film so awkward to watch. It is sad that anybody, including Glazer who wrote it, would take this script seriously.
Conversations begin with lines like “Have you ever seen the ocean?” Yeah; it’s that bad. The connection between Nate and Lilly is in no way convincing. Let us put aside the fact that we are supposed to buy Mickey Rourke and Megan Fox as two people who fall in love. The way their relationship comes about is too abrupt, feeling about as realistic as Lilly’s wings. How are we supposed to care about these two when Nate is scheming against Lilly during most of their scenes together? Instead of crafting a tale of redemption, the film never points out the moment when Nate’s regret starts to seep in, leading us to believe that it is only when the two sleep together (yes there is a love scene, complete with Rourke fondling Fox’s wings) that he feels differently about her. And if that is the case, Nate comes off as even more of a sad-sack schmuck than at the start of the film.
There is blatant awkwardness throughout, whether from the acting, dialogue or direction. So much of the film is oddly staged, as if we are looking in on an underworked rehearsal. Some of the beats between lines of dialogue do not feel natural. The same goes for the timing between certain shots. There is something entirely off-kilter about a lot of Passion Play, and there are times when Glazer cannot execute simple scenes. For an example of this, look to the early scene with Rourke and Ifans in his abode. Scenes like this come around about once every ten minutes that force the audience to contemplate the mere existence of this film.
Mickey Rourke is clearly coasting here. His worn-out face allows him to fit into these types of roles very easily. Sometimes his heart is in it, sometimes it is not. He cannot even pretend to play the trumpet correctly, in one of the film’s laugh-out-loud scenes. Megan Fox clearly wants to be taken seriously here, but she has chosen the wrong film for it. She is just there to look stunning, doing little to negate the notion that her character is just an object for others to gawk at. The film is using Fox the same way Happy Shannon, Sam and Nate all try to use her. It is hard to take Fox seriously when she is stuck in a constant state of crying gullibility. With Fox, Passion Play becomes a maudlin Victoria’s Secret commercial, complete with wings.
Finally, Bill Murray as a gangster sounds inspired, and admittedly he comes closest to an actual performance. Yet he is coasting as well, relying on his usual droll line deliveries to come off as menacing due to the content of the dialogue. For a perfect example of Rourke and Murray coasting, watch the scene in which Rourke makes his proposition to Murray during lunch. Neither looks like they want to be there. It is all too easy to picture them sitting around and waiting for action to be called so the scene can creep all too willingly towards completion.
What is good about Passion Play? Well, there is some typically wonderful photography by Christopher Doyle, the film’s only saving grace. Passion Play may just seem like a merely terrible film while watching it, with occasional moments of so-bad-it’s-funny moments. But the film’s leap into infamy is made concrete in its final minutes, which needs to be seen to be believed. Hint; there is flying involved.
Weekly Trailer Round-Up
25 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in 2011, Weekly Trailer Round-up Tags: 2011, 2011 trailer reviews, A Little Help, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Conan O'Brien Can't Stop, Film Trailers, Movie Trailers, Salvation Boulevard, Take Shelter, The Muppets, The Perfect Age of Rock 'N' Roll, Trailer Reviews, Trailers, Weekly Trailer Round-up
Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop – B: My boyfriend got to see this at IFFBoston, while I had to miss it due to class. Both of us attended O’Brien’s tour, making this of particular interest. The film looks like a satisfying combination of entertainment and insight.
A Little Help – D: This is the kind of domestic indie drama I cannot abide by. Nothing here feels genuine and it comes complete with ‘indie’ dramedy font. Fischer will lose her husband, struggle to find her own way and mark out a relationship with her son. There will be plenty of ups and downs and the film will end on a moment of hope. There you go. Film seen.
Take Shelter – A: Recently screened at Cannes, this is one of my most anticipated films of the year. Inner psychological torment mixed with eerie atmosphere and bigger-scale visuals looks to be a winning mix. Shannon’s predicament seems similar to his in Bug, a film I love, making this an even more exciting release.
The Muppets – B+: A really clever trailer which shows, in its short footage of the Muppets, that the humor will stay very much inline with the type of meta-jokes they were known for. I am so nervous and excited for this one; the Muppets mean a lot to me. They have been so misused in recent years by Disney. Jason Segel seems to appreciate what they once were, so I have hope. Also, it is hard to imagine this not working in a theater.
Salvation Boulevard – C-: This trailer it waaaaay too scattered to feel coherent. It may be going for a zany, wacky satirical vibe, but this too muddled for any of that to really come through.
The Perfect Age of Rock ‘N’ Roll – C: There is something so purposefully dour about this; it so badly wants us to care. I am not sure I do. Everyone involved is clearly trying, but it I did not finish the trailer feeling like I needed to spend two hours with this story.
Review: The Double Hour (2011, Capotondi)
18 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Felippo Timi, film review, Giuseppe Capotondi, Italian Cinema, Kseniya Rappoport, The Double Hour, Thriller
Originally posted on Criterion Cast on May 17th, 2011
Plot twists are inherently risky. Over recent years, they have become much more complicated. Certain genres, like horror or thriller, naturally invite the convention to the point where inclusion instantly subjects the film to a battle with predictability. Mostly, the risk comes from the chance taken on losing the audience. Will the twist enhance or muddle the films intentions? Will the audience go along for the ride or will they disengage themselves? The Double Hour, the Giuseppe Capotondi’s debut film, shows promise, but loses itself within its labyrinthine twists.
A plot description for The Double Hour begs vagueness to keep this review relatively spoiler-free. Sonia (Kseniya Rappoport), a hotel maid who is somewhat withdrawn and solitary, attends a speed-dating event. She meets Guido (Felippo Timi) , an ex-cop and widower. They start up a relationship and everything is going well, until they are subject to a home invasion robbery that results in…well, you will have to find out yourself. Other figures in the plot are Sonia’s co-worker Margherita (Antonia Truppo), hotel regular Bruno (Fausto Russo Alesi) and detective Dante (Michele de Mauro).
As for the inner workings of The Double Hour, it is apparent the story was carefully considered outside its plotted nature. Through the twists and turns, a character-driven exploration of one person’s guilt is meant to be examined through the enhanced perspective said twists offer. There are moments when that deepened sense of guilt comes through nicely. The complex ambiguity of Sonia pays off as often as it does not. Yet the film gets lost, and everything is eventually stifled and fruitless. By the end, character development is suffocated by the complicated plot, when it is meant to have the opposite effect.
Theoretically, the twists force the audience to go back and rethink through the film, allowing for deeper and deeper examination of Sonia. The first twist changes what we think of Sonia thus far as we are asked to reshape our perception of her. The second twist is meant to do the same; enhance character development through the revelation. It is different from the first twist because Sonia and the audience learn it at the same time whereas Sonia is in on the initial twist. It is a jarring and risky move in which now Sonia and the audience have to, again, entirely reconfigure how the new situation at hand. The attempted leap falls short, making the film’s entire conceit unsatisfying. It also provides one simple explanation for a hell of a lot of intrigue it sets up, coming off as a cop-out, even though the middle section of the film would admittedly work better on a second viewing.
The Double Hour does not take enough of a stance in genre. It is rarely a detractor if a film does not line up cozily with a genre; in fact I welcome it. It is a detractor when the material is not strong enough to tell the story it wants to. It made me wish it threw itself much more heartily into its thriller origins so it had a grip on something specific. It dips its toes into many genres for a short period of time, but backs off too soon to establish anything of worth.
Finally, there is perhaps the central reason The Double Hour underwhelms and the main catalyst for the twists’ failures. The romance at its center is flat and uninspired despite the chemistry between the two leads. Both Sonia’s character development and the romance between her and Guido need to work in order for the twists to make have the intended impact. The former is moderately strong and the latter is too little too late. Without a relationship the audience is invested in, it becomes difficult to care, especially in the final third.
The only truly palpable reason to see The Double Hour, despite it being engaging enough to merit a look, is for Kseniya Rappoport’s performance. She makes the film almost single-handedly gripping. She is morose, racked with guilt, has hidden agendas and is appropriately vague in her emotions.
The twists in The Double Hour are too much, and the story becomes less and less investing as the film heads towards the end of its runtime. It does not do nearly enough in most aspects to have the kind of impact it strives towards. There is a lot of talent in Capotondi, but this is too unpolished, too undercooked to truly recommend as a whole. Remnants of a recommendation come mainly because of the beguiling performance from Rappoport.
Review: The Trip (2011, Winterbottom) [IFFBoston2011]
03 May 2011 2 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, BBC, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Film, film review, Michael Cain impressions, Michael Winterbottom, Rob Brydon, Steve Coogan, The Trip
Originally posted on Criterion Cast on April 30th, 2011: http://criterioncast.com/2011/04/30/catherine-reviews-michael-winterbottoms-the-trip-iffboston-2011-review/
The Trip boasts an unusual combination of dialogue-heavy comedy, of scenic travelogue complete with a focus on high-end food and finally a somber self-reflexive experiment. While these are occasionally at odds with each other, The Trip is hilarious from start-to-finish and ultimately insightful because of the persistent and atypical way it goes about making its point.
Some necessary background; in 2010, a six episode sitcom aired on BBC Two called “The Trip”. It starred Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon as versions of themselves. Steve has recently accepted an offer from The Observer to tour a series of restaurants’ in Northern England and write an article. He mainly did this to spend some quality time with his American girlfriend Mischa (Margo Stilley). Now Steve needs to find someone else to go on the trip because Mischa has moved back to America. He asks his longtime colleague Rob Brydon to go along. Throughout Rob and Steve’s lively conversations, Steve’s unhappiness trickles through as it becomes apparent that he uses the trip and Rob to avoid his own dissatisfaction with life. Director Michael Winterbottom cut down the six episodes into this feature-length film also titled The Trip which lasts slightly under two hours.
The Trip is going to divide people. Those looking for a dynamic that evolves and changes over time are going to be disappointed. A lot of the film is Brydon doing impressions, frequently the same ones. Also, the pair never has it out the way another film would have built up to. The film is enmeshed in repetition, never really going anywhere. These reasons that others will surely jump on as evidence the film does not succeed, are actually reasons the film does succeed.
There is no plot outside of brief diversions into Steve’s life. His ex-wife calls, telling him to call his son and talk to him. His agent calls with a questionable new TV project. Mischa calls with news that she has been assigned to go to Las Vegas for a story on prostitutes. The two are ‘on a break’, so neither knows the status of their relationship. Either way, this will not stop Steve from having one-night stands.
Real life comes into play during the scenes that show where Steve’s life and career are in relation to where he wants them to be. The trip itself, which makes up almost the entire film, is meant to be the antithesis of these troubles. It is a completely unconventional way to make a point but it works; the way Steve uses the trip to temporarily and half-heartedly dodge his life is concurrent with the films irreverence. He wants to avoid, and the film allows him this.
Steve’s dynamic with Rob is equally important. Rob is happily married with a child. His life is what Steve’s could never be simply because of his eternal dissatisfaction. Rob sees his career as successful and does not aspire to greatness the way Steve does. Steve quite resents this and is never afraid to insult Rob about his career. Rob never gets angry about it; he clearly expects this behavior from his longtime colleague. Rob, in turn, will occasionally address aspects of Steve’s life, fully knowing that Steve will not give answers that confront much of anything. Steve and Rob have their own established world together (they have known each other for eleven years), further proven when the heavily improvised nature of the film is taken into account.
Their conversations are thoroughly escapist, with a strong air of competition. They throw themselves into moments, songs, melodies and impressions. They are constantly trying to one-up each other, whether by seeing who does the better Michael Caine impression or by testing how many octaves each can sing in. Steve may say to others on the phone that Rob is a ‘pain in the ass’, but he clearly gets something out of his hesitant friendship with Rob; the irreverence between the two and their conversations. Each knows what to expect from the other. Steve knows he can vent his frustrations by taking jabs at Rob’s career. He knows their friendship is based on nonsensical conversations. This allows a safety net of irreverence to form for Steve.
These conversations that go nowhere and the constant back-and-forth are all hilarious, resulting in one of the funniest films to come around for a long time. Not to mention the stunning scenic view of Northern England that it gives viewers; it is more than a bonus, existing as an entirely separate reason to seek out the film. It tries too earnestly at first to turn Steve’s life into a pity-party, with awkwardly overt music cues. As the film goes on, these kinks become smoother. A lot could probably be said about Coogan and how this exists as a self-representation. Without having seen Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story or knowing quite enough about Coogan’s persona to comment extensively, that can be left to other reviewers. Underneath all of the improvised hilarity, The Trip is about understanding Steve and Rob’s friendship, where it comes from, how the film is using their repeatedly competitive conversations and what it all means. Some will see it as a film that goes nowhere. This is precisely the point; it is a story about fame and emptiness, which has been addressed in many recent films, but told in an uproarious, refreshing and unconventional way.
Review: Submarine (2011, Ayoade) [IFFBoston2011]
03 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, adaptation, Based on a Book, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Craig Roberts, Erik Wilson, film review, IFFBoston, IFFBoston2011, Noah Taylor, Paddy Considine, Richard Ayoade, Sally Hawkins, Submarine, Yasmin Paige
Originally posted on Criterion Cast on April 30th, 2011: http://criterioncast.com/2011/04/30/catherine-reviews-richard-ayoades-submarine-iffboston-2011-review/
By the end of Submarine, the audience will have spent ninety minutes in the head of Oliver Tate. It is an inventive mind, one full of hypothetical situations, observations and the typical self-absorption maintained by all teenagers. Richard Ayoade’s film, adapted by Joe Dunthorne’s novel, may not be quite the new classic it is likely destined to become, but it surely deserves its praise for expressing one character’s perspective with humor and insight, using a visual approach that is sure to impress.
Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts) is a fifteen-year old growing up in Swansea. His mother Jill (Sally Hawkins) and father Lloyd (Noah Taylor) are going through a rough patch. Their neighbor Graham (Paddy Considine) is a mullet-wearing guru who claims to see the colors within people. He was Jill’s first love and she seems to be considering an affair with him, much to the chagrin of Oliver who is anxiously keeping track of these developments. In the meantime, he and fellow classmate Jordana (Yasmin Paige), a hardened girl with a bright red coat who moderately enjoys bullying and detests anything romantic, fall into a relationship. His efforts to be a great boyfriend are called into question when he learns that Jordana’s mother is dying of cancer. Oliver juggles this revelation with his efforts to save his parent’s marriage.
The style of the film reflects Oliver and the way he sees life. Unsurprisingly, Submarine pops visually, with sharp editing used to depict a highly subjective viewpoint. Voice-over narration is also used extensively and very successfully to show Oliver’s thought-process. Oliver tends to be overly dramatic, and thus, so is the film. Something that really works in Submarine is how Oliver’s self-absorption is handled. It is the reason for all the stylistic choices made and a lot of his thoughts support just how much of a teenager Oliver really is. His confident ability to sum up his parents in a few short sentences and the way he internally reacts to Jordana’s news are both examples of how Oliver’s self-absorption is realized. This trait of his is confronted head-on towards the end. The entire feel of the film ties in with the very characteristic that has become a problem for Oliver and his dilemma. It is a smart move and one that cannot be praised enough.
The casting and ensemble work of Submarine are a specific highlight. All five main cast members are perfect in their roles. Craig Roberts and Yasmin Paige shine as Oliver and Jordana. Roberts lends an appropriately earnest air while Paige gives Jordana a moody unpredictability that is vital to her character. As the adults, Sally Hawkins, Noah Taylor and Paddy Considine, all incredible actors, are even more entertaining to watch. All three show off their comedic timing as well as pulling off a tough job by portraying their characters as Oliver sees them, but allowing them to exist outside of their perceived caricatures.
Erik Wilson’s cinematography is breathtaking. Every color stands out and the look of the film is rich beyond words. There are many scenes of the coast that radiate artistic beauty. The entire film has a wonderful glow to it and his work here is entirely assured and accomplished. Ayoade is a real talent who goes against the grain in relation to most other youth-based films from the U.K. Some people will see this and categorize it as a Rushmore knock-off. Admittedly I take issue with a few too overt stylistic choices as well as the use of spying and sabotage that harks back too much to the aforementioned film. While this is nowhere near the innovation of Rushmore, it is almost entirely its own work. Thinking about youth-based films from the U.K as usually being very serious pieces about class, gangs or the nature of boarding schools, Submarine emerges as original in its country and it certainly will make its mark in the U.S.
Something that does stick out is that Oliver and Jordana never feel quite genuine enough as a couple. The film gets very close to capitalizing on what is there. The material between them is strong. Both actors are more than excellent in their roles and have a lot of chemistry together. Oliver and Jordana are sufficiently interesting and Jordana adds a panache not often seen in teen romances. As the film goes on though, one starts to think; why should they be together? It feels much more like a legitimate but ultimately passing relationship that is only meaningful in its existing time. At a certain point, it could be said that the audience sees their relationship as Oliver does. However, it still does not account for the unconvincingly placed substantiality between the two. This could be said about the vast majority of romances; the reason I complain about it here is because they were very close to reaching their goal, but came up ever-so-slightly empty.
Submarine is inventive, funny, insightful and honest. It stays true to its protagonist and never betrays him. Oliver makes many matter-of-fact statements that relay extremity, making it easy for the film to look at him as a ridiculous figure; but it never does. This wonderful coming-of-age film throws itself into this self-conscious era of cinema we are in without shame and, despite its occasional misgivings, is all the better for it.
