Reel Thoughts

Under discussion:

A Scanner Darkly  (2006)

Netflix this week sent me A Scanner Darkly.  I only knew about this movie because a conscientious member of the Imagination of Fantasy group (request membership!) put it on a "look forward to" list, but there is not an ounce of true fantasy about it, except of the science fiction type.  Truth be told, I had nearly zero expectations going into this film and, therefore, should have been a blank canvas, receptive to what I was going to see.  The trouble?  This movie turned me off quickly and never got me back.

The film is based on a Philip K. Dick novel.  Big brother is everywhere, and substance abuse and addiction are rampant.  Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves) is a narcotics informant who wears a special suit to disguise his identity from even his superiors.  He is ordered to spy on friends (including Winona Ryder, Robert Downey, Jr, and Woody Harrelson)- and himself - as they are suspected to be suppliers of the hottest new black market drug, Substance D.  Yet, Bob is, himself, addicted to the stuff, which has a side effect of producing split personalities in users.  Thus, Bob has to sort out what is real and what is addiction-related while dealing with his friends and would-be superiors.  Oh, and the film uses an animation technique called "rotoscoping" to make it especially mindbending.

I did not like this movie.  I almost hated this movie, but I think I stopped squarely at dislike, because I had this notion that the novel on which the movie is based is probably a great read and a good thriller to sink one's teeth into.  It is also a highly original and intelligent story that explores several philosophical and sociological themes as it relates to addiction, so I probably should have read the book first.  That's where my praise stops, however. 

First, let's talk about the animation.  The idea of using it is creative and original and probably would have lent itself well to the plot execution if it had not been so distracting.  Seriously, I was disconnected from moment one, trying to orient my vision to this technique and become accustomed to it.  Maybe that was the point, but I found it annoying, and I was immediately bored - immediately!  I lost all interest in the film within a very short space of time and felt it might have been a different movie if the live-action versions of the actors were used instead.

It didn't help that the acting was atrocious.  Every single actor was simply not good, and maybe I shouldn't be surprised by that, but Keanu and Winona and Woody and Robert have had occasions of good performances.  None of them offered such performances this time around.  The dialogue was awkward anyway, but the execution of it was just weak and sometimes cringeworthy, furthering the disconnect.

I also have this notion that the adaptation was probably bad, just because I think some great themes and ideas got lost in all of the rotoscoping and stilted spazzing of actors trying to look like they are addicted to something.  The twists at the end had zero impact on me because I was just so over it.  And the score sounded like a combination of the score from Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain, so someone might have been a little too influenced by previous auteurs.  Which explains why the Netflix queue led me to this film next.

All in all, I pretty much stopped caring about this movie within the first half hour.  Others might have found it a mind-blowing experience, but after watching Darren Aronofsky's expertly crafted films dealing with similar subjects (Requiem, Pi), this is but a shadow of that potential genius.  I rate this film a harsh but sincerely felt 4 (for "nice idea, didn't pull it off one bit").  This is in the bad half of my rating scale, as we're below mediocre now.  I have no love for this movie, so there is major failing on the test.  This movie's ambition simply got buried and destroyed in its execution.

Under discussion:

Gone With the Wind  (1939)

What's the AFI Project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Gone with the Wind is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#4)
100 Years...100 Passions (#2)
100 Movie Quotes (3 total):

(#1 - Rhett: "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn;" #31 - Scarlett: "After all, tomorrow is another day!"; #59 - Scarlett: "As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again.")

25 Film Scores (#2)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#43)
The Revised Top 100 (#6)
10 Top 10's (#4 Epic)

Gone with the Wind is one of those movies that have always been part of my life in one way or another because it is my mother's favorite movie, and she forced me to watch it when I was pretty young.  I give it five stars because I do love it like I love a childhood blanket or stuffed animal, and I purchased it based on this affinity for it.  I've seen it enough times, and I associate it with my mom, so it's got that palpable comfort factor.  The love I have for this movie, though, is a tempered love because, and especially in rewatching it to check off some AFI lists, I have some decidedly mixed opinions about it.

The story can be distilled down to basically this: a selfish, spoiled, young Southern belle pines away for a man who will never love her (and who she should never have loved) while the antebellum South crumbles around her in the wake of Civil War.  Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh, Oscar winner) spends the sunny Georgian summer pining away for her wooden but philosophical neighbor and childhood friend, Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), until she learns that he will marry his cousin (ew) Melanie Hamilton (Olivia de Havilland).  She flirts with every young beau to make him jealous except for the one that fails to catch her eye: Rhett Butler (Clark Gable), a scalawag from Charleston and a man equal to Scarlett's own shortcomings, who sets his sights on her instantly.  Scarlett marries Melanie's brother Charles (and other men she doesn't love) to make Ashley jealous, but he and other men are only interested in fighting for their rights as Southerners (ew) by declaring Civil War.  The rest of the film follows Scarlett's journey as she pines for Ashley while coming to the slow realization that Rhett is her true love.  Oh, and she has a wise and loyal mammy (Hattie McDaniel, Oscar winner) trying to help.

Gone with the Wind is long and in a noticeable way.  Each time I watch it, I can't sit for four whole hours.  This last time, I watched it in three parts.  Plus, I know it so well, nothing gets lost on me when I have to stop it.  Though, I always cry.  I always cry, and I think it's because I'm weary from the long-ness and because I get so upset at how stupid Scarlett really is.  She's really such a stupid character!  Young and naive and selfish, and she's the character the viewer is asked to follow and with which to sympathize.

Gone with the Wind is on those AFI lists because it is iconic.  It is the best picture winner from the "golden year of cinema," 1939.  It is grand in scale, story, and scope.  The romance is timeless and epic, the performances are multi-layered and affecting, the ambition was a marvel of itself.  It appeals to a mass appetite for big and grand.  The costumes are unquestionably fabulous and intricate (they must have single-handedly blown the budget), and the visual effects are very good, especially in the burning of Atlanta.  The score is as recognizable as any modern score (it deserved to be #2, topped only by Star Wars).  It really is a very very good movie, even if it is very long.

Yet, I find Gone with the Wind especially melodramatic, which in my now slightly older years I don't enjoy so much.  I get so mad at Scarlett each and every time I watch this movie.  And then I get mad at why I've been asked to sympathize with the selfish brat.  When she finally marries Rhett (more for his money than for love) in the second act, they seem to be so good together, and then she visits her lumber mill (which she started by marrying her sister's beau, another man she doesn't love) and moons over Ashley again and decides that Rhett isn't worth it, and I just get so mad, because you know it's all going to end badly.  Rhett gives up, naturally, and says, "Frankly, my dear..." when she's finally come to her senses, and the rest is history.

I also just have generally mixed feelings about both the book and the film in general.  The film asks the viewer to be sympathetic with the loss of the aristocratic South, when slavery paved the way for American racism.  It's an undeniable part of American history, but I consider it a dark chapter, not one that should be celebrated and revered.  Maybe I'm just a tried and true Yankee and a bleeding-heart liberal, but I feel sort of squirmy when I decide to watch this movie, regardless of how Southerners might have suffered post-defeat.

I do think the film is its own brand of masterpiece, though I believe that Casablanca is a far superior film in every way.  I think it belongs on those lists.  I'm not quite sure that the high placement on the original and revised "greatest film" lists is necessarily deserved.  I used to love this movie more, but it's changed for me a little, because I've had the opportunity to really digest it and see it for what it is, but I also still love it for what it is.  My favorite is Rhett, he's got all the best lines, and Clark Gable was certainly a handsome man in his time.

I think I would personally rate this film a 9.5 rather than a perfect 10.  Some people will think that's blasphemy, certainly, but I just find that Gone with the Wind is not as satisfying or as fulfilling a film as say Singin' in the Rain or the Godfather or as convincing and heart-melting a romance as Casablanca.  It belongs on the AFI lists because the film, made when it was into what it became, renders it a film of historical signficance in the landscape of American cinema, as it was, literally, the original blockbuster and has long since been imitated if never fully duplicated.  Yet, I can also see why Gone with the Wind would not be appreciated as much by newer movie-watching generations.  I've certainly lost love for it, but it has its place, and I believe everyone should give it at least a chance.  It's best rented - that way it can be paused for bathroom and snack breaks.

Under discussion:

Breakfast at Tiffany's  (1961)

What's the AFI Project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here: http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Breakfast at Tiffany's is on the following AFI lists:

100 Years...100 Passions (#61)
100 Greatest Film Songs (#4 - "Moon River")

Truth be told, Breakfast at Tiffany's is not the greatest movie in the world.  Don't get me wrong, I love it!  I'm a big Audrey Hepburn fan, and Holly Golightly is among her finest and most legendary roles.  In addition, I think George Peppard is awfully pretty in this film, and the best supporting performance goes to Cat, the nameless slob.  Ultimately, though, Breakfast at Tiffany's is really just a guilty pleasure disguised with some timeless elements that make the film a cut above most other romantic comedies, before or since.

Holly Golightly (Hepburn) is a freespirit living in New York City and socializing with all manner of men, looking for the rich one that will marry her.  She's also a dreamer, and a favorite pastime is to have breakfast while peering through the shop windows at the lovely, sparkly things in Tiffany's.  She's such a freespirit, she's mainly commitment phobic - but then along comes a budding author with writer's block, Paul, who moves into the apartment above hers.  He's kept and maintained by a wealthy woman (Patricia Neal), and Holly and Paul, whom she calls Fred because he reminds her of her brother Fred, who is in the service of the military, strike up a close friendship.  Of course, any romance film fan knows immediately that Paul/Fred and Holly are right for each other, but her wacky individualistic streak and each's dubious exploits in pursuit of money to live the high life in NYC, delay their realization of it for most of the movie.  It is, technically, a romcom, but the movie is more of a formula creator, not a formula follower.

This film is not perfect because, plotwise, it is really just a string of funny and surprising situations which the extraverted Holly and the happy-to-oblige Paul/Fred find themselves in, giving them a not-so-organic motivation to cultivate their budding friendship and love.  There's nothing special technically.  It's no landmark film, and Mickey Rooney gives a decidedly offensive performance as a Japanese neighbor who lives next door to Paul/Fred but who Holly harasses to open the door because she always loses her keys.  Also, like I said, George Peppard was pretty in this film, but he didn't give a ringer of a romantic leading-man performance himself.

The best parts of the film are what make it a winning and entertaining couple of hours in the end, however.  Audrey is adorable as Holly, and it's a different type of romantic lead than what she played in Roman Holiday or Sabrina.  Her character's spirit is infectious and her performance is so charming and effortless, the viewer finds themselves wishing they could be so seemingly carefree (though she has layers, as the film illustrates).  She wears fabulous clothes and has a stilted life philosophy that makes one chuckle.  The score, variations on the beautiful and lilting "Moon River," all for which Henry Mancini was responsible, is as timeless as Audrey's opening scene of cruller, coffee, and Tiffany's shop window in a stunning black gown.

In fact, it's the spirit and the message surrounding the spirit, the one of loving oneself while also not being afraid to love someone else, that makes it such a classic movie.  For that, it at least should be on the greatest romances list, and of course, Moon River is #4 on the song list.

As a movie, I would rate it an 8 for having minor flaws but being very good.  I also already own it, so it was easy to pull out and watch.  It's also easy on the eyes and easy on the mind, so I naturally find it easy to like...