MOVIE CLUB: SOLARIS
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Solaris Reconsidered
I think I may have finally figured out what bothered me about "Solaris." It was Adam's identification of, as he calls it, the movie's "central dilemma." According to Adam, that dilemma is Kelvin's choice between returning to Earth to resume a "normal" (but loveless) life, or staying on board the ship, alone in deep space, with what, by all appearances, is his wife, recalled from the grave. I think Adam's "central dilemma" is correct, but it's not the one I recognized when I watched the film. If I were to identify the movie's "central dilemma"--as I took it to be when I watched the film--it would be something like this: when forced to choose between reason and desire in a situation that tests all of this emotional and professional faculties, how does a man use logic to defeat temptation? An entirely un-metaphysical construction on my part, I realize. Without realizing it, I had set myself up with expectations that the film had no intention of satisfying. In my mind, Kelvin was the protagonist and the planet Solaris was the antagonist. My thoughts during the whole movie: How will Kelvin defeat Solaris? And it's not that Kelvin doesn't defeat Solaris at the end that bothered me; it's that he stops trying to defeat Solaris halfway through the film. From the moment that Kelvin sends the first Rheya to her "death" in an escape pod, I was rooting for Kelvin to outmaneuver whatever it was that had incapacitated the rest of the crew. Now why did I think that? Have I been watching too many conventional sci-fi action movies? Because I became increasingly irritated as Kelvin further submits to the power of Solaris. Now that I think about it, the film is, in many ways, like a more typical (if slow-moving) protagonist/antagonist struggle -- but -- absent a third act. In a traditional format we see the following formula: in the first act, we witness our hero's physical/mental prowess when faced with various obstacles; in the second act our hero's nemesis, the antagonist, gets the better of him by exploiting our hero's weakness(es); in the third act our hero uses his superhuman strength/will to defeat the antagonist. In "Solaris" we get the first two acts, and no third act. But this formula is disappointing only if that's the formula that Soderbergh is employing. Which, according to Adam, he isn't. And I agree with him. So how did I get so off-track? I'm glad that I finally understand what kept me from enjoying the film, but I don't want to take all the blame. Eric and Adam: Did Soderbergh mislead me at all, or am I just too conventional a filmgoer to have figured out what he was up to?
On another subject, Eric asked me to explain my current obsession with Netflix, the online DVD rental service. I'm not sure how many Cinemascoped readers use the service, or have replaced their VCRs with DVD players, but, for even the casual renter of DVDs, Netflix beats Blockbuster ten times out of ten. For one thing, Netflix completely changed my renting psychology. Before Netflix, I'd go to Blockbuster, peruse the new releases, and eighty-five percent of the time I would rent something from the new release section. I might stroll through the "Blockbuster Favorites" aisles, but even if I saw something that caught my eye--an overlooked classic or an intriguing indie film--I'd probably hold onto my $4.00+ new release. I wish you could all take a look at the list of films I have rented through Netflix in the past six months. Just last week, the following films arrived in my mailbox: Fellini's "8 12," the Christian Bale/Matt McConaughey dragon epic "Reign of Fire," Ingmar Bergman's "Wild Strawberries," and the Tim Robbins Vietnam Vet warped suspense film "Jacob's Ladder" (not to be confused with "Jakob the Liar"). I've also rented "The Last Starfighter" (lots of unintentional hilarity) the original "Get Carter" with Michael Caine (a great movie), and "Godfather III" (just as bad as you remember it being). I'm not sure I would have rented any of these movies at Blockbuster, assuming they even had them. Also, depending on the volume of films you watch per week, or per month, Netflix can be an incredible bargain. Granted, I wouldn't be watching nearly as many movies if I had to rent them, but as it stands, my roommate and I spend on average about $1 per rental--based on a cost-per-month rental/cost analysis conducted by my roommate in his prodigious spare time. Compare that with Blockbuster's ever-increasing prices, and it's a no-brainer. Plus, with Netflix, there are no late fees. I know that this sounds like an advertisement; but I reap no rewards for this kind of commentary. Consider this a public service message. And why'll you're at it, rent "Klute" or "The Right Stuff" or "The Last Detail" or "The Bridge Over The River Kwai" or Michael Mann's "Thief" with James Caan. All great films that I rented through Netflix that I would never have rented from Blockbuster. A single warning: not all of the chances you end up taking on films pay off. For every diamond in the rough, there are two or three stinkers: turns out “The Stunt Man” is only a cult classic for people who love terrible movies.
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: SOLARIS
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Should have paid more attention in Existential Philosophy
Before commenting specifically on Steven Soderbergh's 'Solaris', I want to mention right off the top that I have not seen Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 version, nor have I read Stanislaw Lem's book (1961). I've gathered from reading various sources that Soderbergh's rendition is closer to the book than Tarkovsky's while also being a lot less confusing. If this is true, I can't imagine how negatively Sam would react to the original. (A 2-disc Criterion Collection DVD comes out today.) Sam faults the current 'Solaris' for lacking specifics and for raising questions that it can't or won't answer -- “What is Solaris?”; “How should we get rid of the "visitors?" “How dangerous are the "visitors?" -- but one of the reasons I enjoyed the movie so much is precisely because these questions were left open for interpretation. These are the kind of questions that a standard, plot-driven sci-fi movie would try to answer, but for Soderbergh (and I'm guessing Lem and Tarkovsky) these issues are merely MacGuffins, plot means to a much larger end. The movie isn't concerned with trying to explain why this strange planet is somehow able to interpret one's dreams and actually produce a flesh and blood version of someone close to the dreamer. It is, as Sam says, "a story of relationships, loss, and the psychology of mourning and forgiveness," but it's also much more than that. Depending on how you interpret the ending -- which I will admit to having some confusion about -- 'Solaris' is either the ultimate exitentialist manifesto or the ultimate affirmation of God's supreme power. The movie's central dilemma is fascinating enough -- Clooney's character, Chris Kelvin, has to decide whether he would prefer to go back to Earth and resume his normal life, or exist essentially in isolation in space with someone -- something, really -- who is an exact replica of his dead wife, Rheya. Fortunately, I have yet to experience the loss of someone that close to me. But if I had, I could see this actually being a difficult decision if I was placed in a similar situation. Life on Earth without the person I love most in the world, or life with that person in a place without any typical human concerns -- no job, no mortgage payment, etc... The conundrum is that the allure of an existence without those daily concerns is also what makes it seem so frightening because our ambition and material items are what define us. Even more intriguing, however, is the way the film frames the age-old philosophical debate on freewill, an issue that we see being discussed specifically in at least one flashback during the film. The planet Solaris enables Kelvin, in a sense, to become God. As islandgirllizzie says in the Feedback Forum, Rheya is defined by Kelvin's memories of her and while Solaris may be responsible for "making" her, it is Kelvin who is responsible for "creating" her in his dreams. One could posit that what is ultimately so disarming about Rheya and the other "visitors" to the ship is that it forces Kelvin and the scientists to accept a position they are not equipped to take. Man aspires to be God, and in His absence (thanks to freewill) has not choice but to do so. Perhaps Lem's message is that Man is not quite ready.
Looking back over this I'm not sure any of it makes sense, but oh well. There's still much to discuss about 'Solaris' -- the performances, Soderbergh's signature camerawork and editing, plus Eric still hasn't chimed in yet...
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Should have paid more attention in Existential Philosophy
Before commenting specifically on Steven Soderbergh's 'Solaris', I want to mention right off the top that I have not seen Andrei Tarkovsky's 1972 version, nor have I read Stanislaw Lem's book (1961). I've gathered from reading various sources that Soderbergh's rendition is closer to the book than Tarkovsky's while also being a lot less confusing. If this is true, I can't imagine how negatively Sam would react to the original. (A 2-disc Criterion Collection DVD comes out today.) Sam faults the current 'Solaris' for lacking specifics and for raising questions that it can't or won't answer -- “What is Solaris?”; “How should we get rid of the "visitors?" “How dangerous are the "visitors?" -- but one of the reasons I enjoyed the movie so much is precisely because these questions were left open for interpretation. These are the kind of questions that a standard, plot-driven sci-fi movie would try to answer, but for Soderbergh (and I'm guessing Lem and Tarkovsky) these issues are merely MacGuffins, plot means to a much larger end. The movie isn't concerned with trying to explain why this strange planet is somehow able to interpret one's dreams and actually produce a flesh and blood version of someone close to the dreamer. It is, as Sam says, "a story of relationships, loss, and the psychology of mourning and forgiveness," but it's also much more than that. Depending on how you interpret the ending -- which I will admit to having some confusion about -- 'Solaris' is either the ultimate exitentialist manifesto or the ultimate affirmation of God's supreme power. The movie's central dilemma is fascinating enough -- Clooney's character, Chris Kelvin, has to decide whether he would prefer to go back to Earth and resume his normal life, or exist essentially in isolation in space with someone -- something, really -- who is an exact replica of his dead wife, Rheya. Fortunately, I have yet to experience the loss of someone that close to me. But if I had, I could see this actually being a difficult decision if I was placed in a similar situation. Life on Earth without the person I love most in the world, or life with that person in a place without any typical human concerns -- no job, no mortgage payment, etc... The conundrum is that the allure of an existence without those daily concerns is also what makes it seem so frightening because our ambition and material items are what define us. Even more intriguing, however, is the way the film frames the age-old philosophical debate on freewill, an issue that we see being discussed specifically in at least one flashback during the film. The planet Solaris enables Kelvin, in a sense, to become God. As islandgirllizzie says in the Feedback Forum, Rheya is defined by Kelvin's memories of her and while Solaris may be responsible for "making" her, it is Kelvin who is responsible for "creating" her in his dreams. One could posit that what is ultimately so disarming about Rheya and the other "visitors" to the ship is that it forces Kelvin and the scientists to accept a position they are not equipped to take. Man aspires to be God, and in His absence (thanks to freewill) has not choice but to do so. Perhaps Lem's message is that Man is not quite ready.
Looking back over this I'm not sure any of it makes sense, but oh well. There's still much to discuss about 'Solaris' -- the performances, Soderbergh's signature camerawork and editing, plus Eric still hasn't chimed in yet...
MOVIE CLUB: SOLARIS
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Filling space
Hmm...my list of directors "whose films I will see despite any and all criticism suggesting I do otherwise?" Sam is part of my Movie Club because he consistently inspires fun little games like this one. His list is, by his own account, small -- Wes Anderson, Jim Jarmusch, Steven Soderbergh and David O. Russell, if Russell ever makes a follow-up to 'Three Kings'. My list is a bit bigger. Anderson and Soderbergh, definitely. Add Scorsese, David Lynch, John Sayles, Quentin Tarantino, P.T. Anderson, the Coen Bros., David Fincher, Woody Allen (despite the fact that he hasn't made a good film in almost 10 years and a great film in about 15, as I wrote back on 10/29) and Spike Lee. Michael Mann gets my honorable mention...which brings me to this tangent. Since we're on the subject of lists, it's worth mentioning that Sight and Sound magazine's current issue responds to criticism that their decade poll of the best films and directors neglected recent movies by publishing a new poll that focuses exclusively on films since 1978. Mann, somewhat surprisingly to me, made the list of directors at #5. The rest of the list is as follows: 1. Scorsese 2. Krzysztof Kieslowski 3. Wong Kar-Wai 4. Abbas Kiarostami 5. Mann 6. Lynch 7. Pedro Almodóvar 8. Francis Ford Coppola 9. Spike Lee 9. Ingmar Bergman. The films (in order): Apocalpyse Now (Coppola), Raging Bull (Scorsese), Fanny and Alexander (Bergman), GoodFellas (Scorsese), Blue Velvet (Lynch), Do The Right Thing (Lee), Blade Runner (Ridley Scott), Chunking Express (Wong Kar-Wai), Distant Voices, Still Lives (Terence Davies), Once Upon A Time In America (Sergio Leone) and Yi Yi (Edward Yang). I'll save commentary on these two lists for later in the week when Sam, Eric and I provide the "Official" CinemaScoped list of the best directors and films of the past 25 years.
I didn't quite finish my comments on 'Solaris' last night. Check back this afternoon for more Movie Club fun.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Filling space
Hmm...my list of directors "whose films I will see despite any and all criticism suggesting I do otherwise?" Sam is part of my Movie Club because he consistently inspires fun little games like this one. His list is, by his own account, small -- Wes Anderson, Jim Jarmusch, Steven Soderbergh and David O. Russell, if Russell ever makes a follow-up to 'Three Kings'. My list is a bit bigger. Anderson and Soderbergh, definitely. Add Scorsese, David Lynch, John Sayles, Quentin Tarantino, P.T. Anderson, the Coen Bros., David Fincher, Woody Allen (despite the fact that he hasn't made a good film in almost 10 years and a great film in about 15, as I wrote back on 10/29) and Spike Lee. Michael Mann gets my honorable mention...which brings me to this tangent. Since we're on the subject of lists, it's worth mentioning that Sight and Sound magazine's current issue responds to criticism that their decade poll of the best films and directors neglected recent movies by publishing a new poll that focuses exclusively on films since 1978. Mann, somewhat surprisingly to me, made the list of directors at #5. The rest of the list is as follows: 1. Scorsese 2. Krzysztof Kieslowski 3. Wong Kar-Wai 4. Abbas Kiarostami 5. Mann 6. Lynch 7. Pedro Almodóvar 8. Francis Ford Coppola 9. Spike Lee 9. Ingmar Bergman. The films (in order): Apocalpyse Now (Coppola), Raging Bull (Scorsese), Fanny and Alexander (Bergman), GoodFellas (Scorsese), Blue Velvet (Lynch), Do The Right Thing (Lee), Blade Runner (Ridley Scott), Chunking Express (Wong Kar-Wai), Distant Voices, Still Lives (Terence Davies), Once Upon A Time In America (Sergio Leone) and Yi Yi (Edward Yang). I'll save commentary on these two lists for later in the week when Sam, Eric and I provide the "Official" CinemaScoped list of the best directors and films of the past 25 years.
I didn't quite finish my comments on 'Solaris' last night. Check back this afternoon for more Movie Club fun.
Monday, December 02, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: SOLARIS
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: In space, no one can hear you wonder what the hell is going on
Steven Soderbergh belongs to a small group of directors whose films I will see despite any and all criticism suggesting I do otherwise. Wes Anderson and Jim Jarmusch are the other two; and -- if he ever directs another film -- David O. Russell would be the fourth. I have to admit that my predilection for Soderbergh and his films stems equally from his films themselves and from the commentary he provides on the DVDs of his films. Having listened to his commentary for "Sex, Lies, and Videotape," "The Limey" and "Ocean's 11," Soderberg strikes me as someone in love with the art of making films. And not just the technique of making films, but the art of storytelling that is unique to filmmaking. Soderbergh comes off on these commentaries as humble; self-critical; confident, but not cocky; and always curious -- as much a student as an auteur. Last Wednesday afternoon, on the film’s opening day, I attended a matinee of Soderberg's "Solaris.” I didn't like it. Even worse, I left the movie confused -- unsure of what I was supposed to take from it. I don't mind leaving a film confused if that is the filmmaker's intent (David Lynch may not intend for me to leave his films perplexed, but I invariably do, and that didn't keep me from enjoying "Mulholland Drive"); but "Solaris" was clearly about something -- I'm just not sure what. At its essence, “Solaris” is a story of relationships, loss, and the psychology of mourning and forgiveness. Alone, a cinematic meditation on these ideas might have been interesting; but the film itself feels plot-heavy—and yet, at the same time, lacking in specifics. I honestly think I would have been less confused -- and found the film more moving -- if I had seen “Solaris” without its unnecessarily confusing dialogue. There is something very moving about the basic story as it is told visually: melancholy man (Clooney) is called to join a mission in deep space; man arrives to find evidence of some mischief (blood stains, dead bodies, etc.); man meets eccentric crew member (a bearded, tic-ridden Jeremy Davies) who gives him absolutely no indication of what the hell is going on; man meets another crew member (Viola Davis) who is so freaked out that she won't leave her room; man goes into his room, sleeps, wakes to find a woman in his bed (Natasha McElhone); man freaks out, goes to shocking ends to remove her from the ship; man has more confusing conversations with crew members; man goes back to sleep and the same woman returns; flashbacks to his past indicate that this woman is his girlfriend/wife; etc., etc. If it weren’t for the intrusive exposition that keeps hijacking the film, the music and the visual momentum of the story would make for a seriously creepy and profoundly moving film. “What is Solaris?”; “How should we get rid of the "visitors?" “How dangerous are the "visitors?" The film offered no answers to these questions, and I left the film wishing they hadn’t been asked. I look forward to watching the film again on DVD. I look even more forward to hearing Soderbegh’s DVD commentary, so I can finally understand what the film was about. As I finish this post, I learn that Adam has provocatively names "Solaris" as one of the best films of the year. I am eager to hear his thoughts. I am even more eager to see a film that I really like. I haven't written a good review of a film since this Movie Club began...For the record, of films I saw this year, I really liked "Punch Drunk Love," "Heaven," "Roger Dodger," "The Dancer Upstairs," "The Bourne Identity," "Full Frontal" and "About a Boy." I just wanted to get that out there.
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: In space, no one can hear you wonder what the hell is going on
Steven Soderbergh belongs to a small group of directors whose films I will see despite any and all criticism suggesting I do otherwise. Wes Anderson and Jim Jarmusch are the other two; and -- if he ever directs another film -- David O. Russell would be the fourth. I have to admit that my predilection for Soderbergh and his films stems equally from his films themselves and from the commentary he provides on the DVDs of his films. Having listened to his commentary for "Sex, Lies, and Videotape," "The Limey" and "Ocean's 11," Soderberg strikes me as someone in love with the art of making films. And not just the technique of making films, but the art of storytelling that is unique to filmmaking. Soderbergh comes off on these commentaries as humble; self-critical; confident, but not cocky; and always curious -- as much a student as an auteur. Last Wednesday afternoon, on the film’s opening day, I attended a matinee of Soderberg's "Solaris.” I didn't like it. Even worse, I left the movie confused -- unsure of what I was supposed to take from it. I don't mind leaving a film confused if that is the filmmaker's intent (David Lynch may not intend for me to leave his films perplexed, but I invariably do, and that didn't keep me from enjoying "Mulholland Drive"); but "Solaris" was clearly about something -- I'm just not sure what. At its essence, “Solaris” is a story of relationships, loss, and the psychology of mourning and forgiveness. Alone, a cinematic meditation on these ideas might have been interesting; but the film itself feels plot-heavy—and yet, at the same time, lacking in specifics. I honestly think I would have been less confused -- and found the film more moving -- if I had seen “Solaris” without its unnecessarily confusing dialogue. There is something very moving about the basic story as it is told visually: melancholy man (Clooney) is called to join a mission in deep space; man arrives to find evidence of some mischief (blood stains, dead bodies, etc.); man meets eccentric crew member (a bearded, tic-ridden Jeremy Davies) who gives him absolutely no indication of what the hell is going on; man meets another crew member (Viola Davis) who is so freaked out that she won't leave her room; man goes into his room, sleeps, wakes to find a woman in his bed (Natasha McElhone); man freaks out, goes to shocking ends to remove her from the ship; man has more confusing conversations with crew members; man goes back to sleep and the same woman returns; flashbacks to his past indicate that this woman is his girlfriend/wife; etc., etc. If it weren’t for the intrusive exposition that keeps hijacking the film, the music and the visual momentum of the story would make for a seriously creepy and profoundly moving film. “What is Solaris?”; “How should we get rid of the "visitors?" “How dangerous are the "visitors?" The film offered no answers to these questions, and I left the film wishing they hadn’t been asked. I look forward to watching the film again on DVD. I look even more forward to hearing Soderbegh’s DVD commentary, so I can finally understand what the film was about. As I finish this post, I learn that Adam has provocatively names "Solaris" as one of the best films of the year. I am eager to hear his thoughts. I am even more eager to see a film that I really like. I haven't written a good review of a film since this Movie Club began...For the record, of films I saw this year, I really liked "Punch Drunk Love," "Heaven," "Roger Dodger," "The Dancer Upstairs," "The Bourne Identity," "Full Frontal" and "About a Boy." I just wanted to get that out there.
COMING SOON - I won't be able to get my comments on 'Solaris' up until tonight. But I'll leave this morsel to entice my Movie Club partners, Sam and Eric -- I think it might just be the film of the year.
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Thursday, November 28, 2002
HAPPY THANKSGIVING - CS will be off until Monday due to the Thanksgiving holiday. The Movie Club will be back next week to discuss Steven Soderbergh's 'Solaris' and the intriguing question (posed by Sam) about which type of "bad film" is the worst. I'll also have a review of Philip Noyce's 'Rabbit-Proof Fence'.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: DIE ANOTHER DAY
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Bond, a historical perspective
In his last post, Sam wondered: "Are their guiltless Bond gourmands out there?" In fact, there are, including my friend Chris Kaduce, who has written in with a nicely-detailed historical perspective on 'Die Another Day' and the Bond franchise. But before I get to Chris' remarks, I wanted to mention that I think Eric is really onto something when he discusses the commercialization of James Bond. It's not a startling notion really; the marketing of Bond has been in high-gear ever since Brosnan revitalized the series -- with BMW, most notably -- but 'Die Another Day' really could be seen as simply a 130-minute commercial. Eric writes: "Bond transforms from a gruff refugee to Rico Suave in a matter of minutes with the new Norelco super razor." It's funny because what struck me as odd about the scene where we see Bond shaving is that they don't show him actually shave off the the thick beard he developed in the North Korean jail; they just show him smoothing himself up afterwards with the electric razor because that is what they are selling. (I can't recall if the Bond people are in bed with Norelco, or another company, but I know I have seen the ads). Also, Eric reminded me that the Madonna cameo is, in fact, really bad -- so bad she makes Halle Berry look like...well...an Oscar winner. To Madonna's credit, however, I saw the movie Sunday and I still haven't been able to get that damn techno theme song out of my head. I'm sure Eric was up in the aisles doing the "Robot" during the credits. Now to Chris' analysis:
Critic proof? Perhaps -- like any franchise movie, you know what you're getting when you walk up to the box office window. It's hard to criticize DAD for being what it is. But part of the amazing 40-year success of the Bond franchise is that is has shifted ever so slightly through the years, while remaining true to the essence of what it means to be James Bond. Little boys dream of being Superman or Batman---once they grow up, they dream of being James Bond: a guy who knows exactly what to do and say in every situation, in control of every predicament, who lives for the moment.
In the 60's, the emphasis was on the suave and debonair aspect of the character. Bond got to do things, see places, and bed women that you would never experience. The plots were relatively small in scope (watch 1961's Dr. No now, and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about), and the series had the feel of gilded detective series. Bond was cold and almost inhuman (although not as dark as in the books), and this character was maintained throughout most of the 60's. The lone exception: the underappeciated On Her Majesty's Secret Service, which had it featured Sean Connery, would probably have gone down as the best Bond film ever.
In the 70's, Bond was forced to change, not only to reflect the movie times, but to ward off a bunch of hokey rip-off series (Man from UNCLE, Our Man Flint). The films Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, and the Man With the Golden Gun reflect the times in which they were made--the Smokey and the Bandit, gratuitous car chase, crash and shoot 'em up films most Gen X guys grew up on.
Roger Moore is credited (or denounced) as giving Bond an almost comical, campy feel throughout his 7 films. The wisecracking, push-button-to-eliminate-danger Bond lasted until Moore's last film, 1985's View To a Kill. In an effort to make the franchise edgier, Timothy Dalton was cast as Bond in 2 relatively-disappointing films (from a financial perspective). Dalton was also brought in to replace the nearly fossilized Roger Moore (although Dalton is only 3 or 4 years younger than Moore). It turns out that the producers had the right idea, but the wrong time and the wrong guy. Pierce Brosnan's more psychologically vulnerable Bond (along with copious product endorsements) has brought the franchise back to box office gold.
3 of the last 4 Bond movies have dealt with the betrayal of someone close to James. Our hero feels pain, shoots women, and visibly shows anguish and sorrow. It may not sound like much, but these characteristics were taboo for the first 16 films of the series. DAD takes the vulnerable Bond to the extreme, showing our hero looking disheveled and being tortured in a North Korean prison. Can you imagine Roger Moore in such a position? He'd be more likely to double-poke the interrogators eyes, Stooges-style.
As for DAD, my biggest complaint was the number of reused plot elements already seen in past Bond films. There's the satellite solar laser (Diamonds Are Forever), the MI6 double-agent (Goldeneye), the property-destroying sword battle (Moonraker), the laser cutting table (Goldfinger), the Hong Kong hideout (The Man With the Golden Gun), the secret, new-face-on-old body science lab (Diamonds Are Forever). There's paying homage to the past, and simply recycling old ideas. But that's about it -- well, that, and having Mr. Blonde as the American spy boss.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Bond, a historical perspective
In his last post, Sam wondered: "Are their guiltless Bond gourmands out there?" In fact, there are, including my friend Chris Kaduce, who has written in with a nicely-detailed historical perspective on 'Die Another Day' and the Bond franchise. But before I get to Chris' remarks, I wanted to mention that I think Eric is really onto something when he discusses the commercialization of James Bond. It's not a startling notion really; the marketing of Bond has been in high-gear ever since Brosnan revitalized the series -- with BMW, most notably -- but 'Die Another Day' really could be seen as simply a 130-minute commercial. Eric writes: "Bond transforms from a gruff refugee to Rico Suave in a matter of minutes with the new Norelco super razor." It's funny because what struck me as odd about the scene where we see Bond shaving is that they don't show him actually shave off the the thick beard he developed in the North Korean jail; they just show him smoothing himself up afterwards with the electric razor because that is what they are selling. (I can't recall if the Bond people are in bed with Norelco, or another company, but I know I have seen the ads). Also, Eric reminded me that the Madonna cameo is, in fact, really bad -- so bad she makes Halle Berry look like...well...an Oscar winner. To Madonna's credit, however, I saw the movie Sunday and I still haven't been able to get that damn techno theme song out of my head. I'm sure Eric was up in the aisles doing the "Robot" during the credits. Now to Chris' analysis:
Critic proof? Perhaps -- like any franchise movie, you know what you're getting when you walk up to the box office window. It's hard to criticize DAD for being what it is. But part of the amazing 40-year success of the Bond franchise is that is has shifted ever so slightly through the years, while remaining true to the essence of what it means to be James Bond. Little boys dream of being Superman or Batman---once they grow up, they dream of being James Bond: a guy who knows exactly what to do and say in every situation, in control of every predicament, who lives for the moment.
In the 60's, the emphasis was on the suave and debonair aspect of the character. Bond got to do things, see places, and bed women that you would never experience. The plots were relatively small in scope (watch 1961's Dr. No now, and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about), and the series had the feel of gilded detective series. Bond was cold and almost inhuman (although not as dark as in the books), and this character was maintained throughout most of the 60's. The lone exception: the underappeciated On Her Majesty's Secret Service, which had it featured Sean Connery, would probably have gone down as the best Bond film ever.
In the 70's, Bond was forced to change, not only to reflect the movie times, but to ward off a bunch of hokey rip-off series (Man from UNCLE, Our Man Flint). The films Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, and the Man With the Golden Gun reflect the times in which they were made--the Smokey and the Bandit, gratuitous car chase, crash and shoot 'em up films most Gen X guys grew up on.
Roger Moore is credited (or denounced) as giving Bond an almost comical, campy feel throughout his 7 films. The wisecracking, push-button-to-eliminate-danger Bond lasted until Moore's last film, 1985's View To a Kill. In an effort to make the franchise edgier, Timothy Dalton was cast as Bond in 2 relatively-disappointing films (from a financial perspective). Dalton was also brought in to replace the nearly fossilized Roger Moore (although Dalton is only 3 or 4 years younger than Moore). It turns out that the producers had the right idea, but the wrong time and the wrong guy. Pierce Brosnan's more psychologically vulnerable Bond (along with copious product endorsements) has brought the franchise back to box office gold.
3 of the last 4 Bond movies have dealt with the betrayal of someone close to James. Our hero feels pain, shoots women, and visibly shows anguish and sorrow. It may not sound like much, but these characteristics were taboo for the first 16 films of the series. DAD takes the vulnerable Bond to the extreme, showing our hero looking disheveled and being tortured in a North Korean prison. Can you imagine Roger Moore in such a position? He'd be more likely to double-poke the interrogators eyes, Stooges-style.
As for DAD, my biggest complaint was the number of reused plot elements already seen in past Bond films. There's the satellite solar laser (Diamonds Are Forever), the MI6 double-agent (Goldeneye), the property-destroying sword battle (Moonraker), the laser cutting table (Goldfinger), the Hong Kong hideout (The Man With the Golden Gun), the secret, new-face-on-old body science lab (Diamonds Are Forever). There's paying homage to the past, and simply recycling old ideas. But that's about it -- well, that, and having Mr. Blonde as the American spy boss.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: DIE ANOTHER DAY AND MORE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Baddest Movie In The Whole Damn Town
Maybe it's Timothy Dalton's fault. I don't think I've seen a Bond movie since "The Living Daylights." And despite Adam's contention that Mr. Brosnan is the best Bond of all time, I still don't have an interest in seeing "The World Is Not Enough" or any other Bond film. I have, tucked away in some compartment of my brain, a pubescent fondness for "Octopussy" and "For Your Eyes Only," which, together with the two Dalton Bond films, account for my complete Bond education. Maybe I saw "Goldfinger" on TV once, but I can't remember. Some might call me a philistine or a traitor to my sex. I came of age during one of the series’ darker periods, and I have never bothered to remedy that fact. So I get my guilty pleasures elsewhere. Or is Bond not a guilty pleasure? Am I minimizing the cultural impact of the series? Are their guiltless Bond gourmands out there?
As to the title of my post, I am not accusing the new James Bond movie of being a terrible movie (I haven’t seen it), nor do I suggest that Adam has implied as much from his review of the film. The title of this post in an effort to engage the readers (and Adam and Eric) in a conversation that may help me answer a question that occurred to me as I thought about the film I saw last night: "13 Conversations About One Thing." "13 Conversations," as Joey Cotton misogynisticly -- but accurately -- relates in the Feedback Forum, is a terrible film. Of this there is no question. According to his review on 8/20, Adam liked the film. He calls it "intelligent and engrossing." I found it intellectually lazy and pretentious. One of my least favorite combinations. There are characters in the film with interesting stories. Any one of them would have made for an interesting character study. Unfortunately the director, Jill Sprecher, has such a limited imagination that she can't find the means to tell a single story with a coherent arc. The first fifteen minutes of the film offer an intriguing visual aesthetic, and Sprecher sets a thoughtful and patient tone. But after carefully introducing her bruised and broken characters, she abandons them to an hour and fifteen minutes of self-indulgent conversation. It is a conversation Sprecher is having with herself; and it couldn't be less enlightening or interesting. The end is contrived, and a symptom of the film's half-baked "what-the hell" quality. Here are two recommendations that accomplish what Sprecher’s film could not (to show that I am not a slave to Aristotelian structure like Joey Cotton): "Waking Life" (sure it's pseudo-intellectual and indulgent; but at least it's honest about it); and "My Dinner With Andre" (it could be called "One Conversation About 13 Things;" it's fascinating -- like listening to your two favorite college professors having a wine-fueled conversation).
What I meant to say when I brought up "13 Conversations" (which, by the way, sits at the bottom of my "films of the year" list with "XXX"), was something about categorizing bad films. There are countless bad films out there; but how many TYPES of bad films are there. "XXX" goes in the "big budget/incompetent action filmmaker" pile (anything with Arnold after T2); "13 Conversations" goes in the "lazy and pretentious" pile ("American Beauty"); "Road To Perdition" goes in the "style over substance prestige picture" pile ("A Beautiful Mind;" "Forrest Gump"). And on and on. Give me some help here, guys. Bad films. What do we do with them? And which kind of bad film is your least favorite? This might be a good time to elaborate on the select group of films that get this response from me when the credits roll: "that director just shit on my face" (also known as the "Robert Zemeckis"). Details to follow.
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Baddest Movie In The Whole Damn Town
Maybe it's Timothy Dalton's fault. I don't think I've seen a Bond movie since "The Living Daylights." And despite Adam's contention that Mr. Brosnan is the best Bond of all time, I still don't have an interest in seeing "The World Is Not Enough" or any other Bond film. I have, tucked away in some compartment of my brain, a pubescent fondness for "Octopussy" and "For Your Eyes Only," which, together with the two Dalton Bond films, account for my complete Bond education. Maybe I saw "Goldfinger" on TV once, but I can't remember. Some might call me a philistine or a traitor to my sex. I came of age during one of the series’ darker periods, and I have never bothered to remedy that fact. So I get my guilty pleasures elsewhere. Or is Bond not a guilty pleasure? Am I minimizing the cultural impact of the series? Are their guiltless Bond gourmands out there?
As to the title of my post, I am not accusing the new James Bond movie of being a terrible movie (I haven’t seen it), nor do I suggest that Adam has implied as much from his review of the film. The title of this post in an effort to engage the readers (and Adam and Eric) in a conversation that may help me answer a question that occurred to me as I thought about the film I saw last night: "13 Conversations About One Thing." "13 Conversations," as Joey Cotton misogynisticly -- but accurately -- relates in the Feedback Forum, is a terrible film. Of this there is no question. According to his review on 8/20, Adam liked the film. He calls it "intelligent and engrossing." I found it intellectually lazy and pretentious. One of my least favorite combinations. There are characters in the film with interesting stories. Any one of them would have made for an interesting character study. Unfortunately the director, Jill Sprecher, has such a limited imagination that she can't find the means to tell a single story with a coherent arc. The first fifteen minutes of the film offer an intriguing visual aesthetic, and Sprecher sets a thoughtful and patient tone. But after carefully introducing her bruised and broken characters, she abandons them to an hour and fifteen minutes of self-indulgent conversation. It is a conversation Sprecher is having with herself; and it couldn't be less enlightening or interesting. The end is contrived, and a symptom of the film's half-baked "what-the hell" quality. Here are two recommendations that accomplish what Sprecher’s film could not (to show that I am not a slave to Aristotelian structure like Joey Cotton): "Waking Life" (sure it's pseudo-intellectual and indulgent; but at least it's honest about it); and "My Dinner With Andre" (it could be called "One Conversation About 13 Things;" it's fascinating -- like listening to your two favorite college professors having a wine-fueled conversation).
What I meant to say when I brought up "13 Conversations" (which, by the way, sits at the bottom of my "films of the year" list with "XXX"), was something about categorizing bad films. There are countless bad films out there; but how many TYPES of bad films are there. "XXX" goes in the "big budget/incompetent action filmmaker" pile (anything with Arnold after T2); "13 Conversations" goes in the "lazy and pretentious" pile ("American Beauty"); "Road To Perdition" goes in the "style over substance prestige picture" pile ("A Beautiful Mind;" "Forrest Gump"). And on and on. Give me some help here, guys. Bad films. What do we do with them? And which kind of bad film is your least favorite? This might be a good time to elaborate on the select group of films that get this response from me when the credits roll: "that director just shit on my face" (also known as the "Robert Zemeckis"). Details to follow.
MOVIE CLUB: DIE ANOTHER DAY
From: Eric Baker
To: Sam Hallgren; Adam Kempenaar
Subject: Lady Madonna
I'm including a link to my Daily Iowan review of 'Die Another Day' though I know it's self-serving and my editor made several of the transitions awkward. But I thought it would cut down on the repetition. Sitting in the front row, I really did feel like Alexander DeLarge. As I state in my review, virtually everything Adam points out is dead-on. My favorite is Adam's listing of the plot segments laundry-list style, which is probably how the screenwriters did it. They knew, like everyone else, that no one is coming to see a coherent story. I could go on about how asinine certain plot segments are, but they only serve to bridge action-adventure sequences. Because of that, I agree with Adam that this movie didn't need to be 130 minutes long, but then nobody in my packed theater seemed to mind too much. A word about the changing role of Bond films, as I see it: I can't compare how audiences felt about the films in the 60s and 70s, but I sense there was a wanderlust for the cheeky swashbuckler who was able to get out of tight spots and save the world over the course of two hours. Now I think Bond -- and this may just be an overreaction to the glut of marketing partnerships with Bond films -- represents the same kind of thing travel magazines and car commercials do: a lifestyle attainment. Bond isn't just a sleek British agent who scores with all the chicks; he's something closer to you if you buy this new sports car. Bond transforms from a gruff refugee to Rico Suave in a matter of minutes with the new Norelco super razor. Back to the movie... Halle Berry was, well, passable. I mean, she's hot, so I didn't think she had a problem with sexiness, but I think she did run into problems with her dialogue. On the other hand, she's not doing anything they didn't ask Toby Stephens to do: over-the-top showmanship in the grand tradition of Bond melodrama. I felt her awkwardness came across when she was trying to imbue Jinx with sexiness while spouting corny lines, rather than just letting her actions speak for her. This is an action film after all. For some reason, my editors at the Daily Iowan always see fit to cut out good lines from my reviews, so I leave you guys with my judgment of Madonna's cameo: "Madonna has reached the point in her career where she is best served by cameos, as her grating schtick is not given enough screen time to gnaw away at an audience’s resolve." Look at what happened when they gave her a whole movie? She was swept away.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Eric Baker
To: Sam Hallgren; Adam Kempenaar
Subject: Lady Madonna
I'm including a link to my Daily Iowan review of 'Die Another Day' though I know it's self-serving and my editor made several of the transitions awkward. But I thought it would cut down on the repetition. Sitting in the front row, I really did feel like Alexander DeLarge. As I state in my review, virtually everything Adam points out is dead-on. My favorite is Adam's listing of the plot segments laundry-list style, which is probably how the screenwriters did it. They knew, like everyone else, that no one is coming to see a coherent story. I could go on about how asinine certain plot segments are, but they only serve to bridge action-adventure sequences. Because of that, I agree with Adam that this movie didn't need to be 130 minutes long, but then nobody in my packed theater seemed to mind too much. A word about the changing role of Bond films, as I see it: I can't compare how audiences felt about the films in the 60s and 70s, but I sense there was a wanderlust for the cheeky swashbuckler who was able to get out of tight spots and save the world over the course of two hours. Now I think Bond -- and this may just be an overreaction to the glut of marketing partnerships with Bond films -- represents the same kind of thing travel magazines and car commercials do: a lifestyle attainment. Bond isn't just a sleek British agent who scores with all the chicks; he's something closer to you if you buy this new sports car. Bond transforms from a gruff refugee to Rico Suave in a matter of minutes with the new Norelco super razor. Back to the movie... Halle Berry was, well, passable. I mean, she's hot, so I didn't think she had a problem with sexiness, but I think she did run into problems with her dialogue. On the other hand, she's not doing anything they didn't ask Toby Stephens to do: over-the-top showmanship in the grand tradition of Bond melodrama. I felt her awkwardness came across when she was trying to imbue Jinx with sexiness while spouting corny lines, rather than just letting her actions speak for her. This is an action film after all. For some reason, my editors at the Daily Iowan always see fit to cut out good lines from my reviews, so I leave you guys with my judgment of Madonna's cameo: "Madonna has reached the point in her career where she is best served by cameos, as her grating schtick is not given enough screen time to gnaw away at an audience’s resolve." Look at what happened when they gave her a whole movie? She was swept away.
Monday, November 25, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: DIE ANOTHER DAY
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Still better than 'XXX'
When Eric first raised the idea of discussing 'Die Another Day', I objected on the grounds that there were too many more "important" films playing in Chicago for me to spend my time and money on than the latest Bond opus. But there's perhaps an even better reason. Bond films, like any movie made explicitly for entertainment only, especially a popular franchise, is absolutely critic-proof. Criticize any Bond movie for being predictable, having a stupid, convoluted plot, and bad acting and you'll get the same response -- "Nobody is going to a Bond flick to see great acting or artistic cinematography, etc...It's just about having fun!" The Deacon proves my point in the Feedback Forum when he mentions a time that the two of us, along with Eric and a few other chums, went to see the first Pierce Brosnan effort, 'Goldeneye', when we shared a flat together in London. Here's how he tells it: "...during the pre-credits sequence Adam actually says out loud - "No Way!" when Bond motocycles off the cliff and skydives into a plane -- I mean really, who questions the astrophysics of a Bond movie?" So there you have it. You can't criticize any of the ridiculous stunts in a Bond movie because, well, that's what a Bond movie is all about. As pure entertainment goes, you could do a lot worse than 'Die Another Day' -- like, say, 'XXX'. If you believe the hype, then you know that Vin Diesel has supposedly rendered Bond obsolete, but the key difference is that 'XXX' director Rob Cohen is such a terrible filmmaker that he makes any rotating Bond helmer look like Steven Spielberg. There's probably no sense in discussing the plot since every Bond flick essentially follows the same storyline -- Bond thwarts madman bent on world domination -- with new villains and hot chicks rotated in. 'Die' has something to do with North Korea, DNA replacement therapy, a gigantic "laser" that harvests the power of the sun like something out of 'Superman IV', and the more I thought about the plot later, the more I realized how little sense it actually made. But again, who goes to a Bond film for a sensible plot? One thing I did like about 'Die' is that we get to see a haggard, torutured James Bond; one who actually thinks he is about to die. I don't know, but I'm guessing that's a first for the franchise. And for what it's worth, I think it's possible that Brosnan is, in fact, the best Bond ever, despite all those so-called purists who say "Sean Connery" simply because they think it makes them cool to do so. But Brosnan brings a certain acuteness and intelligence to Bond that none of his predecessors had. Furthermore, unlike Roger Moore and Timothy Dalton, Brosnan is a halfway-decent actor. I also didn't mind the token madman, a rich egomaniac named Gustav Graves, played by Toby Stephens. (Which reminds me...during our time in London, Eric, The Deacon and I saw Mr. Stephens on stage playing Shakespeare's 'Coriolanus'. He's a talented actor, though he playes Graves with the same childish temperament that he imbued Coriolanus with. As our former English prof, the venerable Ed Moore, so aptly put it: "Coriolanus doesn't CRY!!") Among my criticisms: 1) With a few more performances such as her turn here as Jinx, an American spy who teams up with Bond, Halle Berry may just deserve to have her Oscar taken away. She's just plain awful trying -- laboring, I shold say -- to play a sexy, bad-ass. It's like you can see the strings attached to her mouth as she talks, especially through all of the sexual innuendo which Brosnan has mastered. I've heard talk about spinning her character off into her own series and I personally think this is a great idea because the Unintentional Comedy potential would be unlimited. 2) The token goofy-looking henchman, Zao (Rick Yune), has a properly goofy look -- shaved head, albino skin, bright blue eyes with fragments of shrapnel stuck in his face -- but so what? He's not nearly scary enough as he doesn't really boast any interesting fighting skills. 3) Finally, as much I hate to fall back on this criticism, can anyone honestly say that at 2 hours 10 minutes the movie isn't at least 20 minutes too long? There came a point after one of the big set pieces -- and all this movie is is brief moments of dialogue stuck inbetween large set pieces -- where I simply didn't care what was going to happen next. I felt a little like Malcolm McDowell in 'A Clockwork Orange' after his little forced viewing session. 'Die Another Day' didn't excite or offend; it just left me numb.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Still better than 'XXX'
When Eric first raised the idea of discussing 'Die Another Day', I objected on the grounds that there were too many more "important" films playing in Chicago for me to spend my time and money on than the latest Bond opus. But there's perhaps an even better reason. Bond films, like any movie made explicitly for entertainment only, especially a popular franchise, is absolutely critic-proof. Criticize any Bond movie for being predictable, having a stupid, convoluted plot, and bad acting and you'll get the same response -- "Nobody is going to a Bond flick to see great acting or artistic cinematography, etc...It's just about having fun!" The Deacon proves my point in the Feedback Forum when he mentions a time that the two of us, along with Eric and a few other chums, went to see the first Pierce Brosnan effort, 'Goldeneye', when we shared a flat together in London. Here's how he tells it: "...during the pre-credits sequence Adam actually says out loud - "No Way!" when Bond motocycles off the cliff and skydives into a plane -- I mean really, who questions the astrophysics of a Bond movie?" So there you have it. You can't criticize any of the ridiculous stunts in a Bond movie because, well, that's what a Bond movie is all about. As pure entertainment goes, you could do a lot worse than 'Die Another Day' -- like, say, 'XXX'. If you believe the hype, then you know that Vin Diesel has supposedly rendered Bond obsolete, but the key difference is that 'XXX' director Rob Cohen is such a terrible filmmaker that he makes any rotating Bond helmer look like Steven Spielberg. There's probably no sense in discussing the plot since every Bond flick essentially follows the same storyline -- Bond thwarts madman bent on world domination -- with new villains and hot chicks rotated in. 'Die' has something to do with North Korea, DNA replacement therapy, a gigantic "laser" that harvests the power of the sun like something out of 'Superman IV', and the more I thought about the plot later, the more I realized how little sense it actually made. But again, who goes to a Bond film for a sensible plot? One thing I did like about 'Die' is that we get to see a haggard, torutured James Bond; one who actually thinks he is about to die. I don't know, but I'm guessing that's a first for the franchise. And for what it's worth, I think it's possible that Brosnan is, in fact, the best Bond ever, despite all those so-called purists who say "Sean Connery" simply because they think it makes them cool to do so. But Brosnan brings a certain acuteness and intelligence to Bond that none of his predecessors had. Furthermore, unlike Roger Moore and Timothy Dalton, Brosnan is a halfway-decent actor. I also didn't mind the token madman, a rich egomaniac named Gustav Graves, played by Toby Stephens. (Which reminds me...during our time in London, Eric, The Deacon and I saw Mr. Stephens on stage playing Shakespeare's 'Coriolanus'. He's a talented actor, though he playes Graves with the same childish temperament that he imbued Coriolanus with. As our former English prof, the venerable Ed Moore, so aptly put it: "Coriolanus doesn't CRY!!") Among my criticisms: 1) With a few more performances such as her turn here as Jinx, an American spy who teams up with Bond, Halle Berry may just deserve to have her Oscar taken away. She's just plain awful trying -- laboring, I shold say -- to play a sexy, bad-ass. It's like you can see the strings attached to her mouth as she talks, especially through all of the sexual innuendo which Brosnan has mastered. I've heard talk about spinning her character off into her own series and I personally think this is a great idea because the Unintentional Comedy potential would be unlimited. 2) The token goofy-looking henchman, Zao (Rick Yune), has a properly goofy look -- shaved head, albino skin, bright blue eyes with fragments of shrapnel stuck in his face -- but so what? He's not nearly scary enough as he doesn't really boast any interesting fighting skills. 3) Finally, as much I hate to fall back on this criticism, can anyone honestly say that at 2 hours 10 minutes the movie isn't at least 20 minutes too long? There came a point after one of the big set pieces -- and all this movie is is brief moments of dialogue stuck inbetween large set pieces -- where I simply didn't care what was going to happen next. I felt a little like Malcolm McDowell in 'A Clockwork Orange' after his little forced viewing session. 'Die Another Day' didn't excite or offend; it just left me numb.
Friday, November 22, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: FAR FROM HEAVEN
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Mr. and Mrs. Magnatech
I heard Stephen Hunter of the Washington Post on "The Tony Kornheiser Show" last Friday criticize Todd Haynes' ode to 1950s-era melodrama by saying that it was like watching a story unfold inside a museum -- the whole movie is too artifical, a replication of an idealized version of the 50s. I appreciated Hunter's remarks because he made a point that I've made before in relation to other movies set within specific time periods, which is that filmmakers often present characters who behave as if they are aware what era they're living in, with all the cultural baggage attached. But of course, people who were alive in the 50s didn't approach their daily existences any different than we do now. They didn't sit around saying things to each other like, "Boy, it sure is great we live in such an innocent time, though we are a bit close-minded and prejudiced, huh?" One of the reasons 'Donnie Darko' is such a great movie is because writer/director Richard Kelly, for the most part, avoids this mistake. Aside from some cuts on the soundtrack, the film doesn't exploit its 80s setting so much that it becomes a TV sitcom. With 'Far From Heaven', there's a certain electricity, suspense even, in the fact that the movie continually seems to be just on the verge of turning into Pleasantville, a laughably cartoonish version of the 50s -- one that surely never existed in reality because Haynes isn't trying to create a romanticized version of the 50s as much as he is re-creating the romanticized version of the 50s as displayed in popular films and television shows of the time. Sam didn't enjoy Haynes' post-modernist exercise as much as I did because for Sam that's all it was. I'm not sure I have anything insightful to say to change his mind. In a way, 'Heaven' is just a film exercise, perhaps similar to De Palma's 'Femme Fatale', which I found to be such an exercise in style over substance that I didn't care about a single character -- and I don't even mean "care" in a sympathetic way; I mean I had no interest whatsoever in their lives. And therein lies the difference between 'Femme Fatale' and 'Heaven' for me. While Haynes lets most of the supporting characters play the caricatures -- including, as Sam says, Dennis Haysbert, who never fully seems genuine as Moore's gardener/personal confidant -- he allows Moore and Quaid to deliver two of the best, most nuanced performances of the year. In the case of Cathy and Frank Whitaker, dubbed Mr. and Mrs. Magnatech because Quaid's character is a successful TV salesman, I didn't just find them interesting, I cared about how their lives were going to turn out. Sam writes: "In the end, Haynes seemed more concerned with re-creating the "reality" of a Sirk picture than with the emotional reality of his characters." It's a great line, and probably true for a number of people who saw or will see the movie, but I thought Haynes made Cathy and Frank wholly consistent emotionally. If Haynes was simply interested in skewering 1950s sensibilities, he could have made the biggest concern for both Cathy and Frank be their social status -- how the perfect life they've built for themselves with the huge house, ornate furniture and fabulously swanky dinner parties would all be coming to an end because they dared to rock the boat. But it's clear that Frank never enjoyed any of that stuff anyway, and while he tries to get treatment to reverse his little "problem" with homosexuality, his only concern in the end (even at the expense of Cathy and their kids) is finding love. The same is true for Cathy, who never laments the loss of her gossipy friends or her reputation within the upper crust of Hartford society. Instead, she is anguished because her friendship and potential love affair with Raymond Deagan (Haysbert) cannot continue. Their surroundings may be as artifical as a museum exhibit, but Cathy and Frank are as "real" as any movie character can be.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Mr. and Mrs. Magnatech
I heard Stephen Hunter of the Washington Post on "The Tony Kornheiser Show" last Friday criticize Todd Haynes' ode to 1950s-era melodrama by saying that it was like watching a story unfold inside a museum -- the whole movie is too artifical, a replication of an idealized version of the 50s. I appreciated Hunter's remarks because he made a point that I've made before in relation to other movies set within specific time periods, which is that filmmakers often present characters who behave as if they are aware what era they're living in, with all the cultural baggage attached. But of course, people who were alive in the 50s didn't approach their daily existences any different than we do now. They didn't sit around saying things to each other like, "Boy, it sure is great we live in such an innocent time, though we are a bit close-minded and prejudiced, huh?" One of the reasons 'Donnie Darko' is such a great movie is because writer/director Richard Kelly, for the most part, avoids this mistake. Aside from some cuts on the soundtrack, the film doesn't exploit its 80s setting so much that it becomes a TV sitcom. With 'Far From Heaven', there's a certain electricity, suspense even, in the fact that the movie continually seems to be just on the verge of turning into Pleasantville, a laughably cartoonish version of the 50s -- one that surely never existed in reality because Haynes isn't trying to create a romanticized version of the 50s as much as he is re-creating the romanticized version of the 50s as displayed in popular films and television shows of the time. Sam didn't enjoy Haynes' post-modernist exercise as much as I did because for Sam that's all it was. I'm not sure I have anything insightful to say to change his mind. In a way, 'Heaven' is just a film exercise, perhaps similar to De Palma's 'Femme Fatale', which I found to be such an exercise in style over substance that I didn't care about a single character -- and I don't even mean "care" in a sympathetic way; I mean I had no interest whatsoever in their lives. And therein lies the difference between 'Femme Fatale' and 'Heaven' for me. While Haynes lets most of the supporting characters play the caricatures -- including, as Sam says, Dennis Haysbert, who never fully seems genuine as Moore's gardener/personal confidant -- he allows Moore and Quaid to deliver two of the best, most nuanced performances of the year. In the case of Cathy and Frank Whitaker, dubbed Mr. and Mrs. Magnatech because Quaid's character is a successful TV salesman, I didn't just find them interesting, I cared about how their lives were going to turn out. Sam writes: "In the end, Haynes seemed more concerned with re-creating the "reality" of a Sirk picture than with the emotional reality of his characters." It's a great line, and probably true for a number of people who saw or will see the movie, but I thought Haynes made Cathy and Frank wholly consistent emotionally. If Haynes was simply interested in skewering 1950s sensibilities, he could have made the biggest concern for both Cathy and Frank be their social status -- how the perfect life they've built for themselves with the huge house, ornate furniture and fabulously swanky dinner parties would all be coming to an end because they dared to rock the boat. But it's clear that Frank never enjoyed any of that stuff anyway, and while he tries to get treatment to reverse his little "problem" with homosexuality, his only concern in the end (even at the expense of Cathy and their kids) is finding love. The same is true for Cathy, who never laments the loss of her gossipy friends or her reputation within the upper crust of Hartford society. Instead, she is anguished because her friendship and potential love affair with Raymond Deagan (Haysbert) cannot continue. Their surroundings may be as artifical as a museum exhibit, but Cathy and Frank are as "real" as any movie character can be.
MOVIE CLUB: FAR FROM HEAVEN
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Far From Perfect
According to the "Which John Hughes Character Are You?" website, I'm Blaine, Andrew McCarthy’s character from "Pretty in Pink." Sadly, I don't know what that means. Aside from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” I am shamefully unfamiliar with the 80s-defining John Hughes filmography. I am also too young to have appreciated the films of Douglas Sirk, the spirit of whose films Todd Haynes took as inspiration for his new film "Far From Heaven." Or so I've read in every review of the film I’ve come across. Todd Haynes, born in 1961, is himself too young to have seen any of Sirk's films during their original theatrical run, but that hasn't stopped him from mounting his own revisionist Sirk picture. As a period piece -- and is there a better word to describe a film which takes as its period a time-specific film genre? --"Far From Heaven" succeeds. The tone, the look, and the emotional pitch of the film are all consistently realized. And Haynes and his actors do a good job of defining the film's tone before they start subverting it. In previous films, I’ve found Julianne Moore a rather cold actress. She’d come across as bright, but humorless; and lacking in emotional presence (yes, I’ve seen “Short Cuts” and “Vanya on 42nd Street” and “Boogie Nights,” and these are the very films I’m talking about) . She doesn't seem to have an improvisational bone in her body. Her role in "Far From Heaven," which asks her to play a "type," is perfect for her. To some degree, the role needs to be performed, and Moore, who seems to wear her theatre training on her sleeve, does the job. Dennis Quaid is good, too, as Moore's recently un-closeted homosexual husband. But all of the performances eventually fall victim to the film's conceit: that a subversion of the 1950s’ ideal (as seen through the lens of Hollywood; and as, the film seems to suggest, it is preserved in our collective memories) is relevant to today's film-going audience. As nice a job as Haynes does in reconstructing the alternate universe of celluloid 1950s suburbia, it never felt like anything more than a formal exercise. Haynes seemed careful not to disrupt the reality he and his actors had created; but I think the film could have used a bit more blood in its veins. Haynes has made a film that would have scandalized the viewers of Sirk's films. But what has he made for the rest of us? Next to films like Todd Solondz's "Welcome to the Dollhouse" and "Happiness," which provide skewering satire of present day suburbia and which ask us to confront our own hypocrisies and shallow, materialistic fantasies, Haynes's film satirizes a time and place that never even existed (except on TV). Haynes lets us laugh at the hypocrisy and moral backwardness of a make-believe time, but the audience he implicates in all this has been dead for decades. The other problem the movie suffers from is a lack of chemistry between Moore and Dennis Haysbert. Haysbert plays Moore's black gardener, a kind, strong, wise and brave man to whom Moore's character confides her fears and frustrations and whom she eventually falls in love with, much to the dismay of the entire town. Haysbert is likeable in a role that asks him to be, essentially, a perfect human being; but he doesn't bring enough charisma to a role that requires him to get Moore's character to break countless social taboos. To be honest, I'm not sure any actor would have been able to do it. Not with Haynes's script, anyway. Intentionally, I suppose, Haynes's script lacks sex. It implies sexuality, but not enough to sustain the narrative. And I wish he had made the sex more potent. In the end, Haynes seemed more concerned with re-creating the "reality" of a Sirk picture than with the emotional reality of his characters. It may be that those more familiar with 1950's melodramas, particularly the work of Sirk, will find the film a relevant satire, or an important commentary on the 1950s ideal. I found it unexciting. It was "interesting," but not moving. I know that Adam liked it more than I did, so I'm interested to see what it was that won him over. And I'm not sure how many other people have seen this film or even plan to see it, and I wonder if we'll miss the lively discussion that "Bowling for Columbine" and "8 Mile" provoked. And I agree with Eric that there's no need to limit ourselves to prestige pictures and arty films. I'm certainly willing to open up a discussion about "Reign of Fire" which I just saw on DVD the other night. I won't bother to post my reaction to the film just now, but if anyone has an opinion about it, I'd love to hear it.
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Far From Perfect
According to the "Which John Hughes Character Are You?" website, I'm Blaine, Andrew McCarthy’s character from "Pretty in Pink." Sadly, I don't know what that means. Aside from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” I am shamefully unfamiliar with the 80s-defining John Hughes filmography. I am also too young to have appreciated the films of Douglas Sirk, the spirit of whose films Todd Haynes took as inspiration for his new film "Far From Heaven." Or so I've read in every review of the film I’ve come across. Todd Haynes, born in 1961, is himself too young to have seen any of Sirk's films during their original theatrical run, but that hasn't stopped him from mounting his own revisionist Sirk picture. As a period piece -- and is there a better word to describe a film which takes as its period a time-specific film genre? --"Far From Heaven" succeeds. The tone, the look, and the emotional pitch of the film are all consistently realized. And Haynes and his actors do a good job of defining the film's tone before they start subverting it. In previous films, I’ve found Julianne Moore a rather cold actress. She’d come across as bright, but humorless; and lacking in emotional presence (yes, I’ve seen “Short Cuts” and “Vanya on 42nd Street” and “Boogie Nights,” and these are the very films I’m talking about) . She doesn't seem to have an improvisational bone in her body. Her role in "Far From Heaven," which asks her to play a "type," is perfect for her. To some degree, the role needs to be performed, and Moore, who seems to wear her theatre training on her sleeve, does the job. Dennis Quaid is good, too, as Moore's recently un-closeted homosexual husband. But all of the performances eventually fall victim to the film's conceit: that a subversion of the 1950s’ ideal (as seen through the lens of Hollywood; and as, the film seems to suggest, it is preserved in our collective memories) is relevant to today's film-going audience. As nice a job as Haynes does in reconstructing the alternate universe of celluloid 1950s suburbia, it never felt like anything more than a formal exercise. Haynes seemed careful not to disrupt the reality he and his actors had created; but I think the film could have used a bit more blood in its veins. Haynes has made a film that would have scandalized the viewers of Sirk's films. But what has he made for the rest of us? Next to films like Todd Solondz's "Welcome to the Dollhouse" and "Happiness," which provide skewering satire of present day suburbia and which ask us to confront our own hypocrisies and shallow, materialistic fantasies, Haynes's film satirizes a time and place that never even existed (except on TV). Haynes lets us laugh at the hypocrisy and moral backwardness of a make-believe time, but the audience he implicates in all this has been dead for decades. The other problem the movie suffers from is a lack of chemistry between Moore and Dennis Haysbert. Haysbert plays Moore's black gardener, a kind, strong, wise and brave man to whom Moore's character confides her fears and frustrations and whom she eventually falls in love with, much to the dismay of the entire town. Haysbert is likeable in a role that asks him to be, essentially, a perfect human being; but he doesn't bring enough charisma to a role that requires him to get Moore's character to break countless social taboos. To be honest, I'm not sure any actor would have been able to do it. Not with Haynes's script, anyway. Intentionally, I suppose, Haynes's script lacks sex. It implies sexuality, but not enough to sustain the narrative. And I wish he had made the sex more potent. In the end, Haynes seemed more concerned with re-creating the "reality" of a Sirk picture than with the emotional reality of his characters. It may be that those more familiar with 1950's melodramas, particularly the work of Sirk, will find the film a relevant satire, or an important commentary on the 1950s ideal. I found it unexciting. It was "interesting," but not moving. I know that Adam liked it more than I did, so I'm interested to see what it was that won him over. And I'm not sure how many other people have seen this film or even plan to see it, and I wonder if we'll miss the lively discussion that "Bowling for Columbine" and "8 Mile" provoked. And I agree with Eric that there's no need to limit ourselves to prestige pictures and arty films. I'm certainly willing to open up a discussion about "Reign of Fire" which I just saw on DVD the other night. I won't bother to post my reaction to the film just now, but if anyone has an opinion about it, I'd love to hear it.
WHILE YOU WAIT... - As Sam and I prepare to engage in our discussion of Todd Haynes' 'Far From Heaven', please enjoy Eric Baker's post below. Also, check out this quiz that will answer the burning question "Which John Hughes Character Are You?" Thanks to reader Joe Horaney for sending the link. I refuse to admit which character I turned out to be.
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MOVIE CLUB: RANDOM MUSINGS PART DEUX
From: Eric Baker
To: Adam Kempenaar; Sam Hallgren
Subject: Ebert's slide
Nate 'The Yapper' Yapp brings up a subject Adam and I have discussed before after reading some of Ebert's less than scintillating reviews on the web. It's unrealistic to expect gold from the man every single review, considering he does 4-5 every week of the year. But I think that's a part of the problem: the man simply reviews too many movies. The Sun Times obviously knows they've got a hot commodity in Ebert, perhaps the most recognized name in movie criticism nationwide, and I have no doubt he gets compensated as such. They might be thinking 'we pay this guy a ton of dough, plus everyone expects the movie reviews to be Ebert all the time and he likes to do them, so why should we give a few movies to anyone else?' Look, I don't give a damn about his star ratings, as Adam points out these are completely subjective. And I'm not talking about just disagreeing with the opinions in his reviews. Sometimes as often as once a week, there are reviews where it reads like he just phoned it in. The prose doesn't flow like honey as in his Pulitzer Prize salad days (which is probably good, because then he'd literally eat his words). He didn't have the time or energy to delve into what makes the movie great/assy, so he's going to sandbag it and concentrate on the other 4 reviews he has to write that week. This doesn't jive with what Adam has already told us: that Ebert sits down and churns reviews out faster than any writer at the Sun Times. Taking notes during the movie probably facilitates this alacrity. * Does 'Die Another Day' belong as our next Movie Club subject? I can understand your dilemma. You're not going to gain any new insight into the time-space continuum watching a Bond flick, and living in Chicago, you've got so many other choices to use your time and money on, each decision is subject for a relentless Kempenaarian internal dialogue. But, I don't think we should limit ourselves to movies that sound important. What's wrong with seeing a movie that's fun? Like you have said, there is something to walking out of a movie with a smile on your face. And who knows, as my biggest fan 'Rico' points out in the Feedback Forum, 'Punch-Drunk Love' is his favorite movie of the year, and it's merely a romantic comedy. Maybe 'Die Another Day' will push somebody's buttons on this panel.
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From: Eric Baker
To: Adam Kempenaar; Sam Hallgren
Subject: Ebert's slide
Nate 'The Yapper' Yapp brings up a subject Adam and I have discussed before after reading some of Ebert's less than scintillating reviews on the web. It's unrealistic to expect gold from the man every single review, considering he does 4-5 every week of the year. But I think that's a part of the problem: the man simply reviews too many movies. The Sun Times obviously knows they've got a hot commodity in Ebert, perhaps the most recognized name in movie criticism nationwide, and I have no doubt he gets compensated as such. They might be thinking 'we pay this guy a ton of dough, plus everyone expects the movie reviews to be Ebert all the time and he likes to do them, so why should we give a few movies to anyone else?' Look, I don't give a damn about his star ratings, as Adam points out these are completely subjective. And I'm not talking about just disagreeing with the opinions in his reviews. Sometimes as often as once a week, there are reviews where it reads like he just phoned it in. The prose doesn't flow like honey as in his Pulitzer Prize salad days (which is probably good, because then he'd literally eat his words). He didn't have the time or energy to delve into what makes the movie great/assy, so he's going to sandbag it and concentrate on the other 4 reviews he has to write that week. This doesn't jive with what Adam has already told us: that Ebert sits down and churns reviews out faster than any writer at the Sun Times. Taking notes during the movie probably facilitates this alacrity. * Does 'Die Another Day' belong as our next Movie Club subject? I can understand your dilemma. You're not going to gain any new insight into the time-space continuum watching a Bond flick, and living in Chicago, you've got so many other choices to use your time and money on, each decision is subject for a relentless Kempenaarian internal dialogue. But, I don't think we should limit ourselves to movies that sound important. What's wrong with seeing a movie that's fun? Like you have said, there is something to walking out of a movie with a smile on your face. And who knows, as my biggest fan 'Rico' points out in the Feedback Forum, 'Punch-Drunk Love' is his favorite movie of the year, and it's merely a romantic comedy. Maybe 'Die Another Day' will push somebody's buttons on this panel.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
RANDOM MUSINGS - Tonight Sam Hallgren and I will be seeing Todd Haynes' critical darling 'Far From Heaven', with Julianne Moore and Dennis Quaid (always one of my favorite actors since playing Gordo Cooper in 'The Right Stuff'). Look for our comments tomorrow. * There's been some preliminary discussion about whether we should talk about the new James Bond film 'Die Another Day' (opens tomorrow) in our Movie Club next week, but I'm having a difficult time getting excited about it. If I was back in Iowa City and could see it for free, absolutely. But when movies cost $8.50 and there are so many other movies I still need to see here in Chicago -- 'Auto Focus', 'Heaven', hell, even 'Red Dragon' -- it's hard for me to justify spending the time and money on what will no doubt be another well-made but ultimately pointless Bond flick. Then again, the only other new movies opening this weekend are 'Friday After Next' and the absymal-looking, 'Dead Poets Society' knock-off, 'The Emperor's Club'. So we really have no choice. If anyone would like to weigh in with a suggestion, please do so in the Feedback Forum. * My successor at The Daily Iowan, Nate "The Yapp" Yapp, has posed this query in the Feedback Forum: Has Roger Ebert become irrelevant? Basically, Nate takes issue with the fact that Ebert seems to be adoring movies that Nate, and, admittedly, quite a few others aren't that enamored with. Specifically, Nate can't believe that Ebert gave the newest 'Harry Potter' extravaganza 4 stars, while also giving 'The Truth About Charlie', Jonathan Demme's poorly-received (by Nate and just about every other critic) 'Charade' remake 3 stars. I haven't seen either film yet, but I, too, have noticed that he does seem to be handing out a ton of 3 1/2 and 4 star ratings lately, a lot of them to movies you might not expect to be that great. I don't know, I'm not willing to write Ebert off just yet. Let's face it, when it comes right down to it film criticism is as subjective as anything else. If he walks out of 'Chamber of Secrets' with a smile on his face, I don't know that he can really help that. * Now here's something that puts a smile on my face -- Snoop Dogg has been cast in the role of Huggy Bear, the colorful informant-pimp, in the 'Starsky & Hutch' movie to star Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson in the Paul Michael Glaser and David Soul roles, respectively (release TBA 2004). Chris Rock, Chris Tucker and even the brilliant Don Cheadle were apparently considered, but I think Snoop Dogg is an inspired choice. Would anyone go see this movie if Stiller and Wilson weren't behind it? I doubt I would. But I'd probably go see anything these guys were in together. Who knows, maybe there's room for Stiller in a sequel to 'Behind Enemy Lines'?
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Wednesday, November 20, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: If all else fails, blame the media
First off, thanks to Eric for mentioning yesterday's release of 'Glengarry Glen Ross' on DVD. I had intended to bring it up on Monday. It's about time Artisan got around to giving 'Glengarry' the full Special Edition treatment. The absence of a cast commentary is disappointing -- Pacino, Harris, Arkin, Spacey, any of those guys would be great -- but I'll be curious to see what director James Foley has to say in his commentary since I believe 'Glengarry' is the best adaptation of a Mamet play and/or screenplay, even better than any of Mamet's own renditions. On to 'Columbine'...I have to admit that I was just as surprised as 'Dazed and Confused' to see Sam rate 'Bowling for Columbine' as his #7 film of the year after he spent the majority of his post criticizing it. In Sam's defense, I think this apparent contradiction comes back to the issue of expectations. When you go into a movie expecting it to be great and then find that it is merely "good," or even "really good," you can't help but point out all of the flaws because that's all you noticed -- all the things that kept it from being what you hoped it would be. Jonathan Rosenbaum in the Chicago Reader called 'Columbine' Moore's "best film to date," a position that I do not share, unfortunately, although I found it to be extremely provocative and often times very funny. As Eric said, the sequence where we see the actual footage of the Columbine massacre combined with the audio from the 911 calls was very effective. I'd go so far as to call it harrowing because it made me feel uneasy watching it, even with the surveillance video from inside the school being mostly blurry and unrevealing. My problem with 'Columbine' in comparison to 'Roger and Me' is the fact that Moore's latest effort seems a tad too didactic. [I know, Michael Moore? Didactic?] With 'Roger and Me' Moore used his voice-over primarily to provide an ironic counterpoint to what we were seeing and hearing on screen. And he used the camera to show us just how bad things had become in Flint. Here he just seems to be preaching most of the time -- telling us why things are so messed up instead of showing us. What surprised me most about the movie is that it really is not at all an indictment of the NRA, as 'The Deacon fdba Judge Dredd' points out in the Feedback Forum. My feeling is that Moore may have initially had in mind a documentary that ridiculed the NRA, but as he progressed he shifted his target to a much larger, powerful and nebulous group -- the media. The NRA doesn't come off even half as dirty in the movie as the many local TV news stations Moore shows footage of. Following the lead of Prof. Barry Glassner's book, 'The Culture of Fear', Moore basically tries to pin the blame for our obsession with guns on our obsession with fear, which is caused by media outlets who try to get us to watch their newscasts by promoting stories that "just might save our life," and who devote increasing amounts of time to crime despite the fact that the crime rate in this country has been consistently declining for years. Moore almost pulls it off, too. He pretty easily refutes the usual arguments given for why Americans kill over 11,000 people a year with guns while other free nations average only a few hundred such deaths -- that our country has a more violent history (compared to whom? the Germans?) and we have more access to guns (as Moore shows, in Canada you can get a gun just as easily as you can here). And yet, something about blaming the media just rubs me the wrong way. It seems akin to blaming rockers like Marilyn Manson (who proves again in the movie, as he has in many interviews I've seen with him, just how intelligent he is; watch a clip of Moore's interview with Manson here) for kids shooting up schools. Moore clearly doesn't believe artists should be blamed for actions taken by people who listen to their music, but then isn't a CD, or book, or movie just another form of media? I understand the distinction Moore is trying to draw, but it still seems like we're blaming a bogeyman -- one who, unlike Roger Smith, can't actually be held accountable since who really is "the media"? I do want to take issues with some of Sam's comments. First, he describes Moore's tone as being "caustic." I'm not sure I agree. Moore seemed incredibly restrained to me, much more so than in 'Roger and Me' and his bits on 'TV Nation'. He appeared far less intent on making people look bad and more interested in trying to get legitimate answers to his questions. This is especially true in the over-hyped interview with Charlton Heston at the end. There's no doubt that Heston comes off as incredibly stupid and, well, old. But Sam says that Moore "bully and baits" the NRA figurehead, whereas I sincerely feel that Moore asks his questions with as much diplomacy and genuine curiousity as he can muster. 'Columbine' may lack the narrative focus that 'Roger and Me' did, but I respect Moore's ambition. I'm still thinking about certain issues he raised the next day. And hey, any movie these days that you didn't forget as soon as you exited the theater has to be pretty decent.
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From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: If all else fails, blame the media
First off, thanks to Eric for mentioning yesterday's release of 'Glengarry Glen Ross' on DVD. I had intended to bring it up on Monday. It's about time Artisan got around to giving 'Glengarry' the full Special Edition treatment. The absence of a cast commentary is disappointing -- Pacino, Harris, Arkin, Spacey, any of those guys would be great -- but I'll be curious to see what director James Foley has to say in his commentary since I believe 'Glengarry' is the best adaptation of a Mamet play and/or screenplay, even better than any of Mamet's own renditions. On to 'Columbine'...I have to admit that I was just as surprised as 'Dazed and Confused' to see Sam rate 'Bowling for Columbine' as his #7 film of the year after he spent the majority of his post criticizing it. In Sam's defense, I think this apparent contradiction comes back to the issue of expectations. When you go into a movie expecting it to be great and then find that it is merely "good," or even "really good," you can't help but point out all of the flaws because that's all you noticed -- all the things that kept it from being what you hoped it would be. Jonathan Rosenbaum in the Chicago Reader called 'Columbine' Moore's "best film to date," a position that I do not share, unfortunately, although I found it to be extremely provocative and often times very funny. As Eric said, the sequence where we see the actual footage of the Columbine massacre combined with the audio from the 911 calls was very effective. I'd go so far as to call it harrowing because it made me feel uneasy watching it, even with the surveillance video from inside the school being mostly blurry and unrevealing. My problem with 'Columbine' in comparison to 'Roger and Me' is the fact that Moore's latest effort seems a tad too didactic. [I know, Michael Moore? Didactic?] With 'Roger and Me' Moore used his voice-over primarily to provide an ironic counterpoint to what we were seeing and hearing on screen. And he used the camera to show us just how bad things had become in Flint. Here he just seems to be preaching most of the time -- telling us why things are so messed up instead of showing us. What surprised me most about the movie is that it really is not at all an indictment of the NRA, as 'The Deacon fdba Judge Dredd' points out in the Feedback Forum. My feeling is that Moore may have initially had in mind a documentary that ridiculed the NRA, but as he progressed he shifted his target to a much larger, powerful and nebulous group -- the media. The NRA doesn't come off even half as dirty in the movie as the many local TV news stations Moore shows footage of. Following the lead of Prof. Barry Glassner's book, 'The Culture of Fear', Moore basically tries to pin the blame for our obsession with guns on our obsession with fear, which is caused by media outlets who try to get us to watch their newscasts by promoting stories that "just might save our life," and who devote increasing amounts of time to crime despite the fact that the crime rate in this country has been consistently declining for years. Moore almost pulls it off, too. He pretty easily refutes the usual arguments given for why Americans kill over 11,000 people a year with guns while other free nations average only a few hundred such deaths -- that our country has a more violent history (compared to whom? the Germans?) and we have more access to guns (as Moore shows, in Canada you can get a gun just as easily as you can here). And yet, something about blaming the media just rubs me the wrong way. It seems akin to blaming rockers like Marilyn Manson (who proves again in the movie, as he has in many interviews I've seen with him, just how intelligent he is; watch a clip of Moore's interview with Manson here) for kids shooting up schools. Moore clearly doesn't believe artists should be blamed for actions taken by people who listen to their music, but then isn't a CD, or book, or movie just another form of media? I understand the distinction Moore is trying to draw, but it still seems like we're blaming a bogeyman -- one who, unlike Roger Smith, can't actually be held accountable since who really is "the media"? I do want to take issues with some of Sam's comments. First, he describes Moore's tone as being "caustic." I'm not sure I agree. Moore seemed incredibly restrained to me, much more so than in 'Roger and Me' and his bits on 'TV Nation'. He appeared far less intent on making people look bad and more interested in trying to get legitimate answers to his questions. This is especially true in the over-hyped interview with Charlton Heston at the end. There's no doubt that Heston comes off as incredibly stupid and, well, old. But Sam says that Moore "bully and baits" the NRA figurehead, whereas I sincerely feel that Moore asks his questions with as much diplomacy and genuine curiousity as he can muster. 'Columbine' may lack the narrative focus that 'Roger and Me' did, but I respect Moore's ambition. I'm still thinking about certain issues he raised the next day. And hey, any movie these days that you didn't forget as soon as you exited the theater has to be pretty decent.
MOVIE CLUB: BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE
From: Eric Baker
To: Sam Hallgren; Adam Kempenaar
Subject: Happiness is a Movie About Warm Guns
Lot of chatter about this one in the Feedback Forum, and I think it might be more fruitful to start with some of the arguments posed there. First, I agree with 'South of 8 Mile' that Moore is a better filmmaker than he is writer. But I like Sam's comment about seeing the movie over a month ago, and his memory of it being scarred by certain things. His critique of the film is blatantly honest and on-target, I believe it's just a matter of whether these things bother the viewer. Myself, it was the night of my grandmother's funeral, and maybe that clouded my judgment a little, plus there had to be bad air quality in the theater, because it got a little misty in there somewhere. The movie does ramble, seemingly from one subject to another, much like my missives on this site. But I was entertained by all of them, to go full circle to Adam's original question about Moore. Moore realizes his limitations, and I think it's healthy he sets a goal of merely amusing an audience. If he starts setting out with the expressed goal, rather than just a vague hope, of changing the hearts and minds of Americans with his movies, he's bound to be disappointed, not to mention his movies won't be as funny. It's true that the best segments in the movie are when Moore is riffing on the media, interviewing people from different cultures as to what the big differences are that explain America's disproportionate amount of gun violence. But I don't know if Moore can make a whole movie on just that subject. Sam points out that the most egregious breakdowns are when Moore starts crusading, first against K-Mart and then Charlton Heston. I see this as a part of Moore's psyche: he has achieved fame, starting with "Roger and Me" and including his books and website and TV appearances (whatever happened to "TV Nation?") with his little guy against the corporate "evildoers" (nod to Bush) mindset. And when all else fails, he's going to go back to what worked for him. And it's true he did stage the K-Mart stunt, and probably the interview with Heston, just to prop himself up and get good footage for his movies. Yet like Sam, and I gather 'South of 8 Mile', I have no problem with this behavior. For one thing, no one else is doing it. And by and large, it is a fascinating watch. But the main reason comes down to the question of exploitation that has come up in several Feedback Forum posts: these are people who are used to dealing with the media. In fact, they typically use the media to push an agenda for a product or cause they support, and now Moore is just turning the tables. I don't know if the Heston interview would have been included if not for his gaffe, but I think most people understand what he was trying to say, even though he said it with his foot in his mouth. The case isn't so simple when it is Terry Nichols' brother or the "Rabbits: pet or meat" lady. These people aren't used to TV cameras in their faces and to a certain extent audiences are laughing at their shortcomings. Still, I don't get the feeling Moore is exploiting them. I don't know how many people Moore had to interview before he got these choice cuts, but from my own journalism experience I would guess hours. And sometimes subjects just say great, uncoerced quotes on the record and you can't do anything but look up to the heavens and smile. At the very least, everyone in "Columbine" added something to the grand, messy picture Moore was painting. It's exploitation of another sort when Moore interstitially splices audio excerpts and video of the actual massacre, but man is it effective. At least for me, but I can't shake Sam's initial declaration that a conservative wouldn't sit through 5 minutes of this film. I have to think he is correct, mainly because Moore is so in-your-face, though I still maintain his movies are mainly humorous. I'd like to think I'd sit through a movie on tax cuts if it was done well; you have to do something with this subject matter otherwise you've got "The Sorrow and The Pity," and nobody wants that again. I think we're all in agreement about "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," I just don't know how much it's going to appeal to someone not familiar with Wilco's music. Jones certainly stays behind the camera, but I don't know that I'd call his portrayal objective, though it certainly is moreso than Moore's movie. And as Adam points out, I think that's a good thing. The documentarian obviously has a viewpoint, there's nothing wrong with letting the viewer know what that is. Finally, I have to mention that the DVD for "Glengarry Glen Ross," one of the greatest films of the 90s, finally came out, and if Adam doesn't already own it he has changed since he moved to Chicago. A-Always B-Be C-Closing. Always Be Closing.
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From: Eric Baker
To: Sam Hallgren; Adam Kempenaar
Subject: Happiness is a Movie About Warm Guns
Lot of chatter about this one in the Feedback Forum, and I think it might be more fruitful to start with some of the arguments posed there. First, I agree with 'South of 8 Mile' that Moore is a better filmmaker than he is writer. But I like Sam's comment about seeing the movie over a month ago, and his memory of it being scarred by certain things. His critique of the film is blatantly honest and on-target, I believe it's just a matter of whether these things bother the viewer. Myself, it was the night of my grandmother's funeral, and maybe that clouded my judgment a little, plus there had to be bad air quality in the theater, because it got a little misty in there somewhere. The movie does ramble, seemingly from one subject to another, much like my missives on this site. But I was entertained by all of them, to go full circle to Adam's original question about Moore. Moore realizes his limitations, and I think it's healthy he sets a goal of merely amusing an audience. If he starts setting out with the expressed goal, rather than just a vague hope, of changing the hearts and minds of Americans with his movies, he's bound to be disappointed, not to mention his movies won't be as funny. It's true that the best segments in the movie are when Moore is riffing on the media, interviewing people from different cultures as to what the big differences are that explain America's disproportionate amount of gun violence. But I don't know if Moore can make a whole movie on just that subject. Sam points out that the most egregious breakdowns are when Moore starts crusading, first against K-Mart and then Charlton Heston. I see this as a part of Moore's psyche: he has achieved fame, starting with "Roger and Me" and including his books and website and TV appearances (whatever happened to "TV Nation?") with his little guy against the corporate "evildoers" (nod to Bush) mindset. And when all else fails, he's going to go back to what worked for him. And it's true he did stage the K-Mart stunt, and probably the interview with Heston, just to prop himself up and get good footage for his movies. Yet like Sam, and I gather 'South of 8 Mile', I have no problem with this behavior. For one thing, no one else is doing it. And by and large, it is a fascinating watch. But the main reason comes down to the question of exploitation that has come up in several Feedback Forum posts: these are people who are used to dealing with the media. In fact, they typically use the media to push an agenda for a product or cause they support, and now Moore is just turning the tables. I don't know if the Heston interview would have been included if not for his gaffe, but I think most people understand what he was trying to say, even though he said it with his foot in his mouth. The case isn't so simple when it is Terry Nichols' brother or the "Rabbits: pet or meat" lady. These people aren't used to TV cameras in their faces and to a certain extent audiences are laughing at their shortcomings. Still, I don't get the feeling Moore is exploiting them. I don't know how many people Moore had to interview before he got these choice cuts, but from my own journalism experience I would guess hours. And sometimes subjects just say great, uncoerced quotes on the record and you can't do anything but look up to the heavens and smile. At the very least, everyone in "Columbine" added something to the grand, messy picture Moore was painting. It's exploitation of another sort when Moore interstitially splices audio excerpts and video of the actual massacre, but man is it effective. At least for me, but I can't shake Sam's initial declaration that a conservative wouldn't sit through 5 minutes of this film. I have to think he is correct, mainly because Moore is so in-your-face, though I still maintain his movies are mainly humorous. I'd like to think I'd sit through a movie on tax cuts if it was done well; you have to do something with this subject matter otherwise you've got "The Sorrow and The Pity," and nobody wants that again. I think we're all in agreement about "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," I just don't know how much it's going to appeal to someone not familiar with Wilco's music. Jones certainly stays behind the camera, but I don't know that I'd call his portrayal objective, though it certainly is moreso than Moore's movie. And as Adam points out, I think that's a good thing. The documentarian obviously has a viewpoint, there's nothing wrong with letting the viewer know what that is. Finally, I have to mention that the DVD for "Glengarry Glen Ross," one of the greatest films of the 90s, finally came out, and if Adam doesn't already own it he has changed since he moved to Chicago. A-Always B-Be C-Closing. Always Be Closing.
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
MOVIE CLUB: BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Moore Than Enough
I may be wrong (and couldn't we all start every post this way?), but I would conjecture that most documentaries get made because the director already has some opinion about the subject, whether it be good, bad or conflicted. Sam Jones isn't choosing to spend months of his time with Papa Roach or Nelly or Shania Twain. Granted, it could be said that Wilco was an "important band" at an "important stage of its career," but this "importance" falls away pretty quickly when placed in a more global context. Jones spends time with Wilco because, at the very least, he respects the band. Then again, the very thing that makes "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" so dramatically interesting, the split of Tweedy and Bennett that took place during Jones's filming, may be less "luck," as Adam describes it, and more brilliant intuition. Tweedy's break with Bennett was not his first public split with a band member. The first took place almost a decade ago, when Tweedy and present Son Volt frontman Jay Farrar split up their seminal alt-country group Uncle Tupelo after four years and three albums together. Tweedy also famously threw out the original recordings that made up Wilco's last album "Summerteeth" and started from scratch. Jones was very likely a fan of Wilco's; even more likely, he knew that he would be entering a volatile recording environment. He may have gotten more than he expected (or hoped), but I think it's safe to say that he was looking for a story, not just an opportunity to hang with his idols. I haven't seen "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," but it's my understanding that Sam Jones stays behind the camera. The same cannot be said, unfortunately, for Michael Moore. What worked so well in "Roger and Me" has become less and less effective over the course of a decade. "Bowling for Columbine" is a frequently provocative, moving and insightful documentary; but it is undermined by Moore's sloppy, shoot-from-the-hip documentary style. What starts as an easy attack on the NRA and the gun culture it promotes, becomes an effective riff on America's media-sponsored paranoia. But then he strays from this very interesting idea to bully and bait the aging NRA figurehead Charlton Heston. The tone of the film (and of Moore) is so caustic and faux-naive that it will ten times out of ten fail to engage a dialogue between opposing sides of the gun control issue. And isn't this more important than preaching to the choir? I couldn't be a stronger advocate of gun control, and yet I found myself frequently turned off by Moore's style. Perhaps the most telling moment for me took place when, with two Columbine shooting victims, Moore goes to KMart's Michigan Headquarters and tries to return the bullets (which were originally purchased at KMart) that were still lodged in one of the boys' bodies. Moore sets up the scene as a chance to show off corporate greed and insensitivity -- while at the same time showing himself to be a public-spirited martyr. Instead, in a shocking turn of events, KMart actually agrees to stop selling bullets within x amount of months (perhaps, being on the verge of bankruptcy as they were, they had nothing to lose). Moore is shocked. If I were a cynical person, I would say that he was just as disappointed as he was shocked. And yet, despite all of my criticism of Moore and his film, I support what he does, and I liked the film more than I disliked it. Moore is doing what no one else in the big-money entertainment industry is doing. He's our big, loud, funny, occasionally irritating conscience. I think that a more effective, less-conflicted film could be made from the raw material that Moore shot, but if "Bowling for Columbine" is what we get, so be it. I don't think a single gun rights supporter would sit through more than 5 minutes of this thing; but man does it get my liberal blood boiling. For the record, and this should really irritate people in the Feedback Forum considering how much time I spent trashing this movie, it stands at #7 on my films of the year. One question: do either of you have any trouble putting documentaries in the same category as fiction films, as in the case of a year-end best list? It didn't seem fair to compare "The Bourne Identity" with "Columbine." Thoughts? Also, quickly: last night I saw "Tully" (a small independent film that has been waiting for distribution since 2000) and "Heaven" (Tom "Run Lola Run" Tykwer's first English-language feature, based on an unproduced script by Krzysztof "Trois Couleurs" Kieslowski). I wanted "Tully" to be better than it was. I tried not to have expectations, but I wanted it to be the kind of perfect small picture that reminds you how a simple story and simple acting can be so much more powerful than big budget extravaganzas. The dialogue was a little clumsy. The acting was decent, but not revelatory. And the story was a little contrived. Still, it was nice. The kind of movie that might disappear off of a TV screen if you were to rent it; but seen in a theater, projected large across a big screen, the actors voices booming out of the stereo speakers, it took on a more profound aspect, and it won me over during its cathartic last 15 minutes. "Heaven," too, was flawed; but it was also somehow perfect. Tykwer is a master filmmaker. Compared to "Tully"'s leisurely pace and leisurely direction, "Heaven" felt immediate and certain. The plot of the film, like in Kieslowsi's other films, doesn't follow any familiar logic and is really just a means of contemplating philosophical questions and ethical dilemmas. This kind of ambition could weigh down some films beyond salvation -- as it did for me in Kieslowski's own "White" and "Red" (his "Blue" I found moving an intelligent) -- but "Heaven" found a nice balance, helped immeasurably by impeccable performances from Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi. And Tykwer is a visual master. The movie looks amazing and has some of the most memorable cinematic images I have seen in some time. One of my favorite films of the year.
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Moore Than Enough
I may be wrong (and couldn't we all start every post this way?), but I would conjecture that most documentaries get made because the director already has some opinion about the subject, whether it be good, bad or conflicted. Sam Jones isn't choosing to spend months of his time with Papa Roach or Nelly or Shania Twain. Granted, it could be said that Wilco was an "important band" at an "important stage of its career," but this "importance" falls away pretty quickly when placed in a more global context. Jones spends time with Wilco because, at the very least, he respects the band. Then again, the very thing that makes "I Am Trying To Break Your Heart" so dramatically interesting, the split of Tweedy and Bennett that took place during Jones's filming, may be less "luck," as Adam describes it, and more brilliant intuition. Tweedy's break with Bennett was not his first public split with a band member. The first took place almost a decade ago, when Tweedy and present Son Volt frontman Jay Farrar split up their seminal alt-country group Uncle Tupelo after four years and three albums together. Tweedy also famously threw out the original recordings that made up Wilco's last album "Summerteeth" and started from scratch. Jones was very likely a fan of Wilco's; even more likely, he knew that he would be entering a volatile recording environment. He may have gotten more than he expected (or hoped), but I think it's safe to say that he was looking for a story, not just an opportunity to hang with his idols. I haven't seen "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," but it's my understanding that Sam Jones stays behind the camera. The same cannot be said, unfortunately, for Michael Moore. What worked so well in "Roger and Me" has become less and less effective over the course of a decade. "Bowling for Columbine" is a frequently provocative, moving and insightful documentary; but it is undermined by Moore's sloppy, shoot-from-the-hip documentary style. What starts as an easy attack on the NRA and the gun culture it promotes, becomes an effective riff on America's media-sponsored paranoia. But then he strays from this very interesting idea to bully and bait the aging NRA figurehead Charlton Heston. The tone of the film (and of Moore) is so caustic and faux-naive that it will ten times out of ten fail to engage a dialogue between opposing sides of the gun control issue. And isn't this more important than preaching to the choir? I couldn't be a stronger advocate of gun control, and yet I found myself frequently turned off by Moore's style. Perhaps the most telling moment for me took place when, with two Columbine shooting victims, Moore goes to KMart's Michigan Headquarters and tries to return the bullets (which were originally purchased at KMart) that were still lodged in one of the boys' bodies. Moore sets up the scene as a chance to show off corporate greed and insensitivity -- while at the same time showing himself to be a public-spirited martyr. Instead, in a shocking turn of events, KMart actually agrees to stop selling bullets within x amount of months (perhaps, being on the verge of bankruptcy as they were, they had nothing to lose). Moore is shocked. If I were a cynical person, I would say that he was just as disappointed as he was shocked. And yet, despite all of my criticism of Moore and his film, I support what he does, and I liked the film more than I disliked it. Moore is doing what no one else in the big-money entertainment industry is doing. He's our big, loud, funny, occasionally irritating conscience. I think that a more effective, less-conflicted film could be made from the raw material that Moore shot, but if "Bowling for Columbine" is what we get, so be it. I don't think a single gun rights supporter would sit through more than 5 minutes of this thing; but man does it get my liberal blood boiling. For the record, and this should really irritate people in the Feedback Forum considering how much time I spent trashing this movie, it stands at #7 on my films of the year. One question: do either of you have any trouble putting documentaries in the same category as fiction films, as in the case of a year-end best list? It didn't seem fair to compare "The Bourne Identity" with "Columbine." Thoughts? Also, quickly: last night I saw "Tully" (a small independent film that has been waiting for distribution since 2000) and "Heaven" (Tom "Run Lola Run" Tykwer's first English-language feature, based on an unproduced script by Krzysztof "Trois Couleurs" Kieslowski). I wanted "Tully" to be better than it was. I tried not to have expectations, but I wanted it to be the kind of perfect small picture that reminds you how a simple story and simple acting can be so much more powerful than big budget extravaganzas. The dialogue was a little clumsy. The acting was decent, but not revelatory. And the story was a little contrived. Still, it was nice. The kind of movie that might disappear off of a TV screen if you were to rent it; but seen in a theater, projected large across a big screen, the actors voices booming out of the stereo speakers, it took on a more profound aspect, and it won me over during its cathartic last 15 minutes. "Heaven," too, was flawed; but it was also somehow perfect. Tykwer is a master filmmaker. Compared to "Tully"'s leisurely pace and leisurely direction, "Heaven" felt immediate and certain. The plot of the film, like in Kieslowsi's other films, doesn't follow any familiar logic and is really just a means of contemplating philosophical questions and ethical dilemmas. This kind of ambition could weigh down some films beyond salvation -- as it did for me in Kieslowski's own "White" and "Red" (his "Blue" I found moving an intelligent) -- but "Heaven" found a nice balance, helped immeasurably by impeccable performances from Cate Blanchett and Giovanni Ribisi. And Tykwer is a visual master. The movie looks amazing and has some of the most memorable cinematic images I have seen in some time. One of my favorite films of the year.
MOVIE CLUB: BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: All apologies
My apologies to Sam, Eric and all CinemaScoped readers, but I did not get a chance to see Michael Moore's gun-control polemic 'Bowling for Columbine' this weekend. So, I will have to just sit on the sidelines while my esteemed colleagues get the discussion going. I'll jump in first thing tomorrow after seeing the movie tonight. But perhaps I can generate a starting off point -- When asked what action he would like to see taken as a result of his film in this interview on Zap2It.com, Moore says: ""If all I did was give people two hours of watching a great film, that would be enough right there as a filmmaker, because that's what I am. If I just wanted to make a political speech, I'd run for office. If I wanted to give a sermon about the evils of this or that, I'd go back to the seminary. But I'm a filmmaker. And I think it's enough these days because most movies suck. And I see them. I go to two or three movies a week. Where's the Kubrick? Where's the Scorsese? Where's the Frank Capra?" My question is: What's worse -- that Moore compares himself, albeit indirectly, to Kubrick and Scorsese? or that saying he is just a filmmaker who wants to entertain seems slightly, if not, completely, disingenuous?
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: All apologies
My apologies to Sam, Eric and all CinemaScoped readers, but I did not get a chance to see Michael Moore's gun-control polemic 'Bowling for Columbine' this weekend. So, I will have to just sit on the sidelines while my esteemed colleagues get the discussion going. I'll jump in first thing tomorrow after seeing the movie tonight. But perhaps I can generate a starting off point -- When asked what action he would like to see taken as a result of his film in this interview on Zap2It.com, Moore says: ""If all I did was give people two hours of watching a great film, that would be enough right there as a filmmaker, because that's what I am. If I just wanted to make a political speech, I'd run for office. If I wanted to give a sermon about the evils of this or that, I'd go back to the seminary. But I'm a filmmaker. And I think it's enough these days because most movies suck. And I see them. I go to two or three movies a week. Where's the Kubrick? Where's the Scorsese? Where's the Frank Capra?" My question is: What's worse -- that Moore compares himself, albeit indirectly, to Kubrick and Scorsese? or that saying he is just a filmmaker who wants to entertain seems slightly, if not, completely, disingenuous?
Monday, November 18, 2002
I AM TRYING TO BREAK YOUR HEART - Sam Jones' documentary follows the band Wilco -- full disclosure: one of my favorite groups -- through the making and tumultuous release of their fourth album, 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot'. The film actually showed on a few screens across the country back in August, but I just saw it last weekend here in Chicago and wanted to devote some space to it for two reasons: 1) As the end of the year approaches and chatter about top ten lists grows louder, 'I Am Trying' might just figure into my list somewhere. 2) It provides a nice segue into our Movie Club discussion beginning tomorrow about Michael Moore's documentary 'Bowling for Columbine'. In his pre-preemptive post earlier today, Eric Baker posed this intriguing question in relation to 'I Am Trying': "Is it possible to make a documentary about a band without slipping into hero worship? Presumably the director has got to be close to the band to get access in the first place." [Query for Eric: Are you saying this is a bad thing? Wouldn't that qualify as a subjective documentary, like several of the best documentaries you have seen? Is there a contradiction here?] According to the film's web site, the filmmakers produced 'I Am Trying' independently. "Neither Wilco nor their record company is financially involved in the film, making it a true documentary, rather than a glorified music video or EPK," the site reports. Then again, just because Jones got no financial support from the band or its management doesn't rule out the possibility that he is a huge fan of the band. And we could debate ad nauseam what a "true documentary" is. But the implication is that Jones and his crew set out to chronicle the band in action as objectively as possible -- minus all of the "hero worship," as Eric so nicely put it. Did they succeed? I say yes, primarily because the documentary doesn't shy away from exposing the flaws of its protagonists, Jay Bennett and Jeff Tweedy (more on them in a second), and does so in a fair and balanced fashion. At first I was conflicted about liking the movie so much because one could easily argue that it is no different than the recent Phish documentary, 'Bittersweet Motel', which I had a lukewarm reaction to, in that it focuses almost entirely on just one member of the band (lead singer/songwriter Tweedy, seen below) and never really efforts to reveal who these people are when they aren't making music.
But Jones had one thing that 'Bittersweet' director Todd Phillips didn't have, something every good documentarian has to have -- luck. Like Phillips, who followed Phish on tour through parts of 1997 and 1998, Jones merely set out to document a significant period in Wilco's career -- the recording of an album, albeit one that was being hailed as a major step forward for the band even before they had finished recording it. What he ended up capturing was arguably the biggest story of the year in the music industry as Wilco's label, Reprise Records (owned by Time Warner), deemed the album unworthy of release and subsequently dropped the band from its label, only to have Wilco sell the album to another label (Nonesuch) and watch it become a relatively huge hit. And the best part of it all is that Nonesuch's parent company is, you guessed it, Time Warner -- an ironic twist that the documentary acknowledges in the end but probably doesn't fully exploit, as this Slate article contends. But the drama doesn't stop there. Shortly after the album is finished, guitarist/keyboardist Bennett, who co-wrote much of the album with Tweedy, was asked to leave the band. I read one review that described Tweedy as taking passive-aggressiveness to a new level and, well, he couldn't be more passive-aggressive if he was lobbing hand grenades while sipping kahlua from a hammock. When asked to explain Bennett's departure, Tweedy can't even admit that he's the one who asked him to leave, saying instead that "you'd have to ask Jay why he left the band." There never is any kind of knock-down, drag-out fight between Bennett (pictured below during recording) and Tweedy -- this isn't Oasis, after all -- just the typical grumblings and misunderstandings that occur between two headstrong, creative people.
If Jones really wanted to make simply a pro-Wilco documentary, he could have very easily aligned himself with Tweedy and let Bennett, who is, admittedly, kind of annoying, come across as the bad guy. As it is, Tweedy ends up looking like a little dictator, someone who can't stand anyone else sharing his credit. Although Bennett's explanation for his dismissal comes off as a bit whiny, Jones lends some credence to Bennett's claim that Tweedy is only interested in surrounding himself with sycophants by intercutting Bennett's dialogue with footage of Tweedy playing the guitar and singing in a coffee-house setting with the other three Wilco members looking on adoringly. But even with all of this drama, 'I Am Trying' is ultimately about the music and the making of one of the best rock albums in recent memory. If you don't agree with this claim, however, chances are you won't find the movie to be half as fascinating as I did.
E-mail CinemaScoped@hotmail.com or start a discussion in the Feedback Forum
But Jones had one thing that 'Bittersweet' director Todd Phillips didn't have, something every good documentarian has to have -- luck. Like Phillips, who followed Phish on tour through parts of 1997 and 1998, Jones merely set out to document a significant period in Wilco's career -- the recording of an album, albeit one that was being hailed as a major step forward for the band even before they had finished recording it. What he ended up capturing was arguably the biggest story of the year in the music industry as Wilco's label, Reprise Records (owned by Time Warner), deemed the album unworthy of release and subsequently dropped the band from its label, only to have Wilco sell the album to another label (Nonesuch) and watch it become a relatively huge hit. And the best part of it all is that Nonesuch's parent company is, you guessed it, Time Warner -- an ironic twist that the documentary acknowledges in the end but probably doesn't fully exploit, as this Slate article contends. But the drama doesn't stop there. Shortly after the album is finished, guitarist/keyboardist Bennett, who co-wrote much of the album with Tweedy, was asked to leave the band. I read one review that described Tweedy as taking passive-aggressiveness to a new level and, well, he couldn't be more passive-aggressive if he was lobbing hand grenades while sipping kahlua from a hammock. When asked to explain Bennett's departure, Tweedy can't even admit that he's the one who asked him to leave, saying instead that "you'd have to ask Jay why he left the band." There never is any kind of knock-down, drag-out fight between Bennett (pictured below during recording) and Tweedy -- this isn't Oasis, after all -- just the typical grumblings and misunderstandings that occur between two headstrong, creative people.
If Jones really wanted to make simply a pro-Wilco documentary, he could have very easily aligned himself with Tweedy and let Bennett, who is, admittedly, kind of annoying, come across as the bad guy. As it is, Tweedy ends up looking like a little dictator, someone who can't stand anyone else sharing his credit. Although Bennett's explanation for his dismissal comes off as a bit whiny, Jones lends some credence to Bennett's claim that Tweedy is only interested in surrounding himself with sycophants by intercutting Bennett's dialogue with footage of Tweedy playing the guitar and singing in a coffee-house setting with the other three Wilco members looking on adoringly. But even with all of this drama, 'I Am Trying' is ultimately about the music and the making of one of the best rock albums in recent memory. If you don't agree with this claim, however, chances are you won't find the movie to be half as fascinating as I did.
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