CS MOVIE CLUB - #2
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren
Subject: Tying up loose ends

By the length of Sam's last post, I think it's safe to say that he'll be playing the role of A.O Scott in our little movie club. If Harvey Weinstein was in charge of this blog, Sam's post would have been trimmed by at least a half-hour. Meanwhile, I'll be Roger Ebert, sneaking in 100 words or so whenever I can. Since there are enough interesting points in your comments to keep me writing for days, I'll try to pace myself and take them one at a time... which would mean starting with a discussion of 'The Hours.' However, I'm going to keep losing sleep if I don't nail the coffin shut on our feeble attempt to answer Sight & Sound with our list of the best films since 1978.

I think I revealed the list back on Dec. 20, and if you hadn't finally written about it last week, it would have been a complete waste of time. In our defense, Christmas came... and then New Years... and is it just me or, more than ever before, are all the good movies being released around the end of the year, forcing us to see everything in a whirlwind two-week period? I remember when the Fall movie season included October and November. Now all the studios are holding out for the holidays, presumably because they want their Oscar contenders as fresh as possible in everyone's mind. I suppose we'll see if all the year's best really did come out around Christmas when we reveal our top ten lists next week.

Here again is our list of the best films of the past 25 years:
1. Glengarry Glen Ross (James Foley, 1989)
2. Raging Bull (Martin Scorsese, 1980)
3. GoodFellas (Scorsese, 1991)
4. Hannah and Her Sisters (Woody Allen, 1986)
5. Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
6. Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)
7. Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998)
8. Do The Right Thing (Spike Lee, 1989)
9. The Deer Hunter (Michael Cimino, 1978)
10. Henry V (Kenneth Branagh, 1989)

One thing I've always appreciated about you, Sam, in the fairly brief time we've known each other, is your fearlessness when it comes to defying conventional wisdom. This would include branding 'Lovely and Amazing' as the worst film of the year even though many critics list it among the ten best. (I still haven't seen it, unfortunately.) In your post back on Dec. 30, you had the balls -- or blatant stupidity -- to state you aren't a huge fan of Martin Scorsese. If you were picking one Scorsese film to watch, it wouldn't be 'Raging Bull' or 'GoodFellas' or any of the other more critically-adored of his films. Rather, you'd watch 'After Hours.' It's sort of like making a list of the "greatest" movies of all-time and then a separate list of your "favorite" movies of all-time. A personal example would be Kubrick's '2001,' which is an amazing technical achievement. But if I had to pick between watching it and Chevy Chase in 'Fletch', well, just call me John Cocktoasten. The thing with Scorsese though, for me anyway, is that 'Raging Bull' and 'GoodFellas' are not only deservedly recognized as great cinematic achievements, but I also love watching them. I can remember watching 'Raging Bull' the first two or three times and marveling at the acting, the cinematography, and the editing of the boxing scenes, without ever considering the complexity of LaMotta as a character, or really thinking about what Scorsese was trying to say about how you truly can't judge someone without standing in their shoes. For all of his seemingly unfounded paranoia about being betrayed and our disdain for him as a violent, overgrown kid, his worst fears are ultimately realized. LaMotta was right all along. As for 'GoodFellas,' it just proves that the "bad guys" are always the most fascinating characters. The famous steadicam shot of Henry's little stroll through the back of the Copacabana isn't just to impress Karen; Scorsese is allowing us to indulge in the fantasy as well.

We must say thanks to Eric for putting 'Henry V' high enough on his list to force it into our top ten and then quickly leaving the country before having to defend himself. Don't get me wrong, I am a huge fan of both 'Henry V' and Kenneth Branagh. But one of the ten best films since 1978?

A.I. Fan from the Feedback Forum should know that 'Hannah Her Sisters' was not my contribution to the list. Surprisingly, I didn't pick a single Woody Allen film. If I had, it would have been 'Crimes and Misdemeanors,' but 'Hannah' does follow a close second to 'Crimes' on my list of favorite Allen films not named 'Annie Hall.'

Curiously, one selection that I find a bit questionable is Wes Anderson's 'Rushmore." It made both of your individual lists, but if 'Raging Bull' and 'GoodFellas' seem like convenient, almost de facto picks, 'Rushmore' strikes me as basically the same just for a younger generation. It's the film that movie geeks like us just have to worship, even if 'The Royal Tenenbaums' and 'Bottle Rocket' are both arguably better films.

And then there's 'Glengarry Glen Ross,' which topped our poll based on the fact that it was the only movie to appear on all three of our lists. Another movie that we can appreciate for its luminous acting and writing, but also simply enjoy watching it endlessly. I remember a friend in college telling me how he didn't really like 'Glengarry' because the 'Mr. Fuck You' scene with Alec Baldwin was so abusive that he had a bad taste in his mouth the whole rest of the film. My response was, "Yeah, and..." Is there a scene in any film ever that is more unsettling and hilarious at the same time?

Movies that were on my list that nobody else had: Lone Star, Boogie Nights, Blue Velvet, Fargo
Movies only on Eric's list: Henry V, Ordinary People, In the Mood For Love, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Days of Heaven, There's Something About Mary
Movies only on Sam's list: Yi Yi, Miller's Crossing, The Matrix, Hannah and Her Sisters, The Insider

Now that this list is officially dead and buried, we can get on with discussing 2002. Along with 'The Hours,' I'll have comments about 'Antwone Fisher,' 'Adaptation' and 'Catch Me If You Can.'

Until next time,
Adam


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CS MOVIE CLUB - #1
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar
Subject: 13 Conversations about 4 Movies

My reaction to the news that you were going to see "The Hours" last night: curiosity, mixed with the mild pull of duty. I had no plans myself. I almost called and asked if I could tag along or at least offer to see the film on my own so we could share fresh views. But the closer it got to quittin' time, the less I felt I had the energy to go through with it. And I want to see "The Hours." I'm curious. I didn't like the book, which had come recommended; but not long after I finished it I saw that they were making it into a film and especially when I saw the cast, I was immediately interested in seeing it. As I recall, the whole structure of the book seemed forced and kind of pretentious. Maybe I was intrigued by the poetic detail of the book, and I wondered how that would translate to the screen. Anyway, I think it's the kind of film I'd rather see on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Or in the comfort of my own home.

So instead of going to "The Hours," I went straight home after work, with the intention of pounding out my CinemaScoped post. I knew that it would take me a while to articulate (and to recall) my responses to the four year-end films I've seen since Christmas. I started writing. Didn't like how it was going. Got tempted by Netflix's latest shipment: "Lovely and Amazing." I had only rented "Lovely and Amazing" because it was being mentioned in some year-end-best conversations -- for the film itself and for Catherine Keener's performance. Writer/director Nicole Holofcener's film, a rambling examination of a few tumultuous days in the lives of three women (Keener, Emily Mortimer, and Brenda Blethyn), is the worst film I have seen all year. A terribly-directed, dramatically stagnant mess. It is beyond my comprehension what redeeming value anyone could see in this film. Keener gives a noxious variation on her caustic oddball character (as seen in "Being John Malkovich," "Out of Sight" and "Full Frontal") that actually made me cringe. Honestly, it's the worst and most misguided performance by an actor I have seen in a long, long time. The critical success of this film (84% fresh on the Tomatometer) and it's equally bad indie counterpart "13 Conversations About One Thing" (86%) -- really bewilders me. The films have been praised for their emotional directness and their honesty. Both scripts suffered from a terminal lack of subtext, and an annoying tendency to have their characters psychologically evaluate each other. I really didn't want to go on so long about this film. I want the whole experience erased from my memory. I do want to note the performance of child actor Raven Goodwin, who plays Brenda Blethyn's adopted 8-year-old daughter. I wish I could describe the sight of this child actor out-performing everyone else in the film. It is an incredibly naturalistic performance. Just hope that she lands some more roles. Please avoid "Lovely and Amazing" at all costs.

Apropos of nothing. Actresses everyone seems to like but me: Catherine Keener and Julianne Moore.

"Adaptation." I gather you didn't like it. It was almost my favorite movie of the year. Among the things I loved about it: that even though Kaufman didn't trust his adaptation of "The Orchid Thief," the stuff that we see from his adaptation (the scenes with Meryl Streep and Chris Cooper) suggests a movie that I wish I could see. And I would have resented this -- and, if I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that I did resent it a little bit -- if Nicolas Cage hadn't been so incredible and Kaufman's "self-flagellating" (your description) script wasn't so inventive and funny and Jonze's direction wasn't so detailed and inspiring. Yes, the film has flaws. I think everyone who worked on the film knew that "Adaptation" was flawed and believed it was worth working on anyway. You don't get performances as well articulated as those in "Adaptation" without the cast having complete faith in the enterprise they're taking on. Credit for this has to go to Spike Jonze. There have been arguments that the movie is narcissistic; that it's actually much more traditional than it lets on (was Fosse really being "meta" in "All That Jazz," Adam, or was he doing what Woody Allen does each and every year -- make a film about himself, sometimes casting himself in the lead, sometimes casting Kenneth Branagh or John Cusack or Sean Penn?); and that it's cynical. I really think it's brilliant. And I don't think it's cynical at all. But the ending troubles me. I was literally kept awake nights thinking about the ending. I didn't get it. In the days that followed my Christmas Day viewing of the film, I scoured critical appraisals of the film for insight into the "troublesome third act" (as it was invariably described). Most reviewers either avoided a direct discussion of it or wrote it off as an unfortunate act of hari-kari. Now that I've read several interpretations of the film's ending -- thanks in large part to the discussion on Slate's brilliant movie club -- I'm still unsatisfied. For my part, I kept going back to McKee's advice to Charlie that the ending had to come from "a change in the characters themselves." I took this to mean the Susan Orlean (Streep) and John Laroche (Cooper) characters. But the movie "Adaptation" is about Charlie Kaufman. He experiences his own transformation, and so the characters in his screenplay experience one as well. Still the ending wasn't satisfying for me. As much as I liked -- and, more importantly, believed -- Cage in the dual roles, I didn't experience anything resembling catharsis when Charlie's brother Donald dies and Charlie undergoes a sudden emotional maturity. I just didn't go there. For one thing, I was so disoriented by the last third of the movie, and that it went on as long as it did, that I lost any sense of what was real. This is a major flaw. Also, I'm not sure that Jonze and Kaufman realize, or give enough credit for, how invested the audience gets in the Streep and Cooper characters. But I wonder how it will look under re-examination. Whatever the ending is actually intended to accomplish, I trust that Jonze and Kaufman meant it to be un-cynical. Which is good enough for me. I look forward to seeing it again.

Streep's husband in "Adaptation" is played by "8 Mile" director Curtis Hanson. Why has no one pointed this out? Bizarre.

If Spike Jonze has a gift for finding reality in the absurd, Alexander Payne is just as gifted at finding the absurd that permeates reality. I first heard about "About Schmidt" early last year during the Cannes and Sundance film festivals, or maybe it was even earlier than that. It was probably my most anticipated movie of the year. I loved "Election." I loved Payne's instinct for realistic comic detail and his deadpan style. "About Schmidt" does not disappoint in this vein. It's just as textured and observant as "Election," and just as dark and funny. The problem with the film -- and it's a big one -- is the casting of Jack Nicholson. He's just too big for the part. He overwhelms the film's attention to emotional detail and its tone of desperation. I spent large parts of the film wishing they had cast someone else, maybe Robert Duvall or Paul Newman or Tom Wilkinson. It's not that Nicholson gives a bad performance -- it's actually very restrained and honest; it's just that it's Jack Nicholson-, and it was impossible for me to ever forget that fact. Warren Schmidt is a bitter, pathetic retiree. Jack Nicholson is one of the most naturally charismatic actors of all time. Have you seen "The Last Detail," Adam? Just electric charisma and talent. There's a scene in "About Schmidt" where Schmidt visits his college fraternity. We see Schmidt looking at a wall of photos cataloguing previous generations of frat brothers. The college-age Schmidt we see in the photo is unmistakably Nicholson. Grinning like a cat and up to no good. Would this man end up a retired actuary in Omaha, Nebraska? Maybe. But it takes some serious suspension of disbelief. Still. The movie is great. Not as moving as it would have been with another Schmidt?at least not for me?but still a great film by one of the most my favorite directors working today.

Next. I spent the first 40 minutes of "Gangs of New York" imagining how good the book the film is based on must be. I couldn't have been less involved in the story or the place or any of the characters. But somehow by the end of the movie, some two hours later, I was completely wrapped up in it. Despite its messiness and blatant theatricality (which starts a vice and ends a virtue), "Gangs" is one of my favorite movies of the year. I don't remember the last time I left a movie feeling so overwhelmed and fulfilled -- probably not since the first "Lord of the Rings." And as with "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring," "Gangs" succeeds in large part thanks to the performance of a "supporting" actor. In the first "Rings," Ian McKellen gave Middle Earth a sense of reality and place that kept the story firmly rooted in the familiar (something sorely lacking in "The Two Towers"). In "Gangs," Daniel Day-Lewis gives one of the most exciting performances I have ever seen in my life. His Bill the Butcher dominates the movie, and, like McKellen, defines the movie as well. To call these "supporting" roles is a serious understatement. Everything about "Gangs" is stagey and theatrical. The sets, the costumes, the performances. But if they are stagey, they are epically stagey; and it is the movie's scope that won me over. I liken those first 40 minutes to the suspension of disbelief that any playgoer must employ to accept a stage reality. Sometimes it takes until intermission for the reality of the play to take hold. Once "Gangs" really gets going, which pretty much coincides with Lewis's re-emergence as Bill the Butcher/King of the Five Points, I was swept away. When the credits finally rolled and U2 came blaring through the speakers, I felt like I'd been run over by a tank. I couldn't move. I had one of those rare movie experiences where my sense of awe became a physical sensation. For that alone, it should be my favorite movie of the year; but it's not (more on this when we reveal our top films of the year). The performances in "Gangs" are good across the board. DiCaprio seems to be getting some flak, but I liked him. He occasionally slips into 21st century naturalism, but this is Scorsese's fault as much as DiCaprio's. And Cameron Diaz is very good as well, especially as the movie goes on. Somehow Diaz has become a very reliable dramatic actress. I'm not sure how this happened. She won't get nominated, but she should. And if it were up to me, DiCaprio would get a nomination as well as best supporting actor. The only lead actor in the film is Day-Lewis. And his performance is worth the price of admission. If you haven't seen it yet, Adam, see it in the theatre. Don't risk missing the sheer size of this movie. There's a lot more I liked and didn't like about the movie; but let's discuss that once you've seen it.

Lastly, and briefly, "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers." As I've said, I liked the first one a lot. This one lost me. I was reminded of the fact that I generally don't like, and find it difficult to suspend my disbelief for, fantasy films. There wasn't enough McKellen, and I kept forgetting what the point of the whole mission was. I had too many questions. And yet the film is beautiful and a real joy to watch -- to look at, rather. Gollum is a fascinating character and a CGI miracle. I just never got caught up in the momentum of the story, which was taken a bit for granted while we were introduced to new characters, new beasties, exposed to new parts of Middle Earth, etc. It is an amazing achievement, and I'm willing to bet that the third installment will win me over again. Again, we can discuss this further when you see it.

If you haven't seen it, check out Jeffrey Wells' "Hollywood Elsewhere" column (posted today) about Daniel Day-Lewis. It's bizarre. He seems to be criticizing Lewis for choosing not to act because he doesn't find fulfillment in it. For comparison, he invokes all the hardworking stiffs out there who may not like their jobs, but who do them anyway. I'd love to see Lewis in more films myself, but if the guy doesn't want to act, leave him alone. Acting is not like other jobs. It's more like a drug habit than a job. For many professional actors, the job is frequently unfulfilling, particularly, it seems, for those we consider our very best actors (Anthony Hopkins threatens to quit the business after every other film he makes); at the end of the day, you're pretending to be someone else. And if you have exacting standards of how to achieve this magic act (of becoming someone else), you can become more and more convinced that it just isn't possible. And the effort can be physically and mentally exhausting. Many actors find peace with the profession before burning themselves out (please see the still very watchable Robert De Niro for a great example; Al Pacino is alternately phoning it in and killing himself with effort -- also, he took five years off in the 80s due to burnout). Lewis is a gifted actor; he seems born to do it. But he can't go halfway. It's all or nothing with him. It would be like asking Mr. Wells to write perfect prose every day of his life. You could go crazy trying. And it's not possible anyway. So maybe it's better to go make shoes in Italy.

Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on all things!

Samuel

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RANDOM MUSINGS - Cross 'Catch Me If You Can' of my list of movies I have to see before making my best of the year list. I caught it last night and all I will say for now is that I think Ebert put the wrong Spielberg movie at the top of his list. As mentioned previously, I'll be seeing 'The Hours' tonight. That leaves 'Gangs of New York,' 'About Schmidt,' 'The Pianist,' '25th Hour' (opens Friday) and 'Talk To Her.' Movies I'd like to fit in but probably won't have time: 'The Two Towers,' 'Personal Velocity,' and 'Y Tu Mama Tambien (on DVD). My movie club mate Sam Hallgren and I will unveil our individual top ten lists next Monday to much fanfare and discussion. Eric Baker may make an appearance, but considering that 1) I have no idea where he is and 2) He has been out of the country for the past few weeks, thus missing the brunt of the year's most promising releases, he may be even more clueless than usual. Just kidding, Bakes.

In yesterday's Movie Club over at Slate, David Edelstein mentioned some email he received regarding the ending of 'Minority Report': "Let me close (finally) with Harvey Cormier of the Philosophy Department at Stony Brook. He makes that case (I first heard this over the summer) that Minority Report is not, as I've asserted, 7/8 of a great movie but 8/8 of one: that the final 20 minutes represents the dream of Tom Cruise's character while in stasis". I bring this up for no better reason than to point out that I espoused this same theory back on 7/31 and just like Edelstein, I don't buy it. Obviously, I agree that there is room for that interpretation, which is why I put it forward, but I don't believe that Spielberg intended the ending of 'Minority Report' to be read as a dream. I wish he had. It certainly would have made the movie better than it ultimately was.

My 'Chicago' review sparked a little discussion in the message boards, including Nate's bold claim that 'Chicago' is the best film of the year so far. If he loves musicals as much he says he does, I sure hope he has seen 'All That Jazz,' Bob Fosse's autobiographical tale of life as a selfish, womanizing artist with Roy Scheider as his alter-ego Joe Gideon. Charlie Kauffman may be all the post-modern rage these days, but Fosse was the king of all meta-ness before Kauffman had been to his bar mitzvah. The only difference between 'All That Jazz' and 'Adaptation' is that Fosse didn't play himself as Bob Fosse, or have Scheider play a character named "Bob Fosse." Oh, and the fact that Fosse had something interesting to say beyond self-flagellation. Frankly, this movie easily could have made my list of the Best Films of the Past 25 Years. Speaking of which... check back tomorrow!

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A.O. SCOTT STOLE MY THUNDER - Here I was all set to announce my revelation to the world, and A.O. Scott goes and beats me to it": the best performance in 'Chicago,' the movie version of the popular Bob Fosse musical, isn't turned in by Catherine Zeta-Jones or Renee Zellweger, or even supporting scene-stealers Queen Latifah and John C. Reilly -- it's Richard Gere. An actor I haven't enjoyed watching in a movie since 'An Officer And A Gentleman,' Gere is fabulous as the fast-talking lawyer Billy Flynn -- and not because of his singing and dancing skills, although he acquits himself amiably. Rather, he is the only performer who actually shows that he can act, delivering a performance just showy enough for a Broadway bonanza while employing the same "naturalistic conventions of screen drama," as Scott puts it, to transcend mere showmanship. Actually, I'm not sure that I really appropriated Scott's remarks correctly at all, but that's why he reviews movies for the New York Times and I review movies for the seven people reading this right now. The audience I saw 'Chicago' with last weekend -- though, admittedly, mostly older women -- cooed and giggled at Gere's every line. Sure, part of this is due to his general hunkiness, but also because he earns every one of those affectionate responses with his charm. I was genuinely surprised by how much I enjoyed his performance, especially when he was the actor I was most concerned about. Casting Gere as a sleazy lawyer always seemed like uninspired casting to me because it was just too obvious. As for the general criticisms of 'Chicago' -- that Zeta-Jones can't dance, Zellweger can't sing and the music isn't really that great to begin with -- I'll happily admit to ignorance when it comes to the criteria of what a good musical should be and simply say that I enjoyed the hell out of the movie. I found the music to be generally catchy (most are tunes you've heard a million times without knowing where they came from) and director Rob Marshall, who also choreographed the film, is smart enough to keep Zeta-Jones' movements to a minimum while Zellweger seems to have a delightful voice that actually compensates for an overall performance as Roxie Hart that is just slightly overdone. She's always "performing," playing a character who is clearly in a musical, unlike Gere's Flynn who could be transplanted to a "regular" film if he could only lose his nasty habit of bursting into song. I don't expect to find 'Chicago' anywhere on my best of the year list (more on that in a shortly), but it won me over, especially the way Marshall intercuts the musical and non-musical bits without having it seem cumbersome or confusing. The Brechtian device of having each song performed for an audience on a stage, separate from the "other" movie world being portrayed, with Taye Diggs as a sort of host who calls out each number, is smart and effective.

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