JimBell Blog

Under discussion:

Longford  (2007)

Longford (2006) is an excellent film. It is British in every aspect—writing, direction, acting, setting, and the events it is based on. This pedigree makes it more remote for us than the typical Hollywood fare and, in my view,  it is far superior.  

Londoner Peter Morgan supplied a superb screenplay. In a field where writers typically have one or maybe two successful screenplays in a career, Morgan has, at 45, penned The Last King of Scotland, which won the BAFTA  award, The Queen, which got him nominated for an Oscar, and Longford, for which he received the BAFTA writers award for TV. In Longford, things could have easily degenerated into sensationalism as the story concerns the gruesome murder of five children and how Lord Longford campaigned for the parole of Myra Hindley, the wife involved in the slayings. Yet the conversations seem real and natural, fitting easily with the documentary footage. 

Much of the credit for the natural pace and the profound acting must go to director Tom Hooper. We know this 36-year old Londoner as the guy who won the Emmy directing award for Elizabeth I starring Helen Mirren. When someone of Mirren’s stature likes and promotes your work, you’ve probably got some talent. On the basis of his early work, Mirren convinced him to do an episode of her classic crime series, Prime Suspect, and from there encouraged him to direct Elizabeth I, starring her, Jeremy Irons, and Hugh Dancy—one of the best movies I’ve seen this year. 

The acting is powerful. Jim Broadbent, one of the best actors on the planet, shows every wrenching disappointment in Lord Longford’s struggle to help a twisted woman who captivates him and lies to him. Samantha Morton, who first amazed me in Sweet and Lowdown, plays the Moors Murderer with such complexity that you’re never sure what is true. But shortly after Longford begins visiting her in jail, you know see will betray his trust. This makes the movie queasy viewing. But it is not that simple, not a simple downward spiral. She may betray him, but his real work is not to be her friend or to free her from jail but to grow spiritually. He starts out by proclaiming that even serial killers can change, a position his strong Roman Catholic beliefs make relatively easy, even though the position is uncommon, misunderstood, and disastrous for his reputation. But when Myra betrays his trust, discards him, and hurts him deeply, he struggles to grow to where he can forgive.

Under discussion:

Year of the Dog  (2007)

I liked Year of the Dog (2007), but, as someone said, it is woefully uneven. The key word there is “woefully,” because the core of the movie (mainly the script) is very good, but the execution is sometimes amateurish.  

I enjoyed the story, partly because I have a dog, but mainly because it has something worthwhile to say and says it in an unpredictable way. The movie makes the point that everyone is weird in some way, even those who seem extremely normal, and the main character, Peggy (Molly Shannon) is unusual in ways that are not as socially acceptable. Goodness knows, this point needs to made repeatedly in our society! Once Peggy’s little beagle dies of poisoning, do you think she’ll be happy to replace him with a German Shepherd? Once Peggy falls for the animal shelter guy, do you think he’ll reciprocate and they’ll live happily ever after with their dogs? No way! Peggy’s spiral into a nervous breakdown is convincing and believable. When her anal-retentive boss agrees to take her back as his admin assistant and then the office welcomes her back, do you think she will gratefully return to her old life? Not now that she has figured a few things out about herself and her society.  

One reason this drama sometimes seems a bit amateurish is that it has vague notions of being a comedy. To clear up the goofy notion that it is a comedy, let’s summarize the plot once again: A lonely woman’s beloved dog is poisoned and she slowly becomes unhinged, losing her new dogs and her long-standing job. In the process, she learns a lot about her society and discovers her unusual passion in life. Half the actors are in a drama: Molly Shannon is excellent as the lonely middle-aged woman finding herself, Laura Dern is perfect as an obsessive upper middle class mother, and Peter Sarsgaard is moving as the androgynous animal shelter worker. But the other half of the actors are sort of in a comedy. Peggy’s boss is ridiculously repressed, her co-worker is over-the-top exuberant, and her neighbour is a stereotypical red neck. 

While the credit must go to Mike White for a very good script (it was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award), the fault must also rest with him as a first-time director for not keeping the genre and tone of the movie on an even keel.  

The Darjeeling Express (2007). I wish people would stop obsessing about this movie being a “Wes Anderson” movie. Even the Rotten Tomatoes key line reads “Will satisfy Wes Anderson fans.” 

Ok, I realize that we all love films (I am passionate), and we want there to be an author as with novels (there seldom, but sometimes, is) and we want that author to always be the same (say some viewers) or grow predictably (say others) or change drastically to prove his artistic credentials (say yet others). I’ve got a radical suggestion: Let’s just watch the movie.

For most of the 20^th Century, the best critical brains in North America tried to persuade us to focus on the text—take your finger and push it down on the page to the exact words you are talking about. Since then we have seen that this is not the be all and end all of literary criticism. But is it still miles ahead of this Wes Anderson worship and hatred stuff that distorts most of what you read about The Darjeeling Express.  

Are you with me? If anyone says they loved this movie because Wes Anderson is great, put the comment aside until the person actually says something. If they say they can’t stand Wes Anderson films, ignore their denigration until they say something substantial. Any criticism that refers to Wes Anderson, whoever he is, is secondary! Referring to the film itself is primary!

It does not really matter if Mr. Anderson is making a fifth film with the similar theme of dysfunctional families. Why? William Shakespeare—not a bad writer—started out writing history after history about English monarchs that we seldom even hear about today. But he soon wrote some of the best comedies, tragedies, and romances in the English language. This growth was unpredictable. For critics to look for their specified logical growth in Anderson’s film making is folly. In 1599, Shakespeare had already written Romeo and Juliet as well as the great Falstaff histories, but suddenly his playwriting kicked up a notch and he soon produced Hamlet, Julius Caesar, King Lear, and The Tempest. This change in writing was not predictable. And for those petty critics wanting Anderson to move on, to change his themes, to vary his style—excuse me, but maybe he will next time, when he is ready. Suddenly in the late 1590s, Shakespeare started writing tragedies after years of English history plays and a mixed bag of largely derivative comedies. Who would have guessed?  

Well, The Darjeeling Limited is one of those borderline movies that will hold together well for some and leave others perplexed at what all the effort was about. Here’s something to show what a fine line this is. One of the most perceptive reviews of The Darjeeling Ltd is James Berardinelli’s at Reelviews—he did not like it. I agree with everything he says, yet I liked the film. The tipping point for me is that some of the criticisms of the film I find, in a strange way, strengths. For example, several critics claim that a weakness is that the three brothers hoping for a spiritual rejuvenation are rather remote from the audience. But I find this realistic. Isn’t this exactly the way you and I would relate to, say, the oldest brother who tried to kill himself in a vehicle and now tries to lead everyone else to salvation? Again: This film is weak because it is about emotional healing, yet the characters are not very emotional and healing is not very dramatic. But isn’t this exactly like real life. As you can see, focusing on Wes Anderson movies as having a strong child-like element is misleading and even harmful here because the whimsy is simply a patina on a serious portrayal of the way things really are.