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Reel Thoughts

  • Indy's Back - and He's Old and Tired!

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    The second part of my double feature happened to be in a theater just down the way from Prince Caspian and just starting the previews and on my list of "dying to sees."  So, I stopped on by.  Sue me.  I have been cautiously excited for the return of Indiana Jones ever since I heard Georgie and Stevie finally had a script in place and were ready to start shooting.  I love the original trilogy - even the Temple of Doom has its place and is more exciting and better done than so many other films.  So, I thought, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (KSC) is bound to at least have that sense of fun and mystery that all of the Indy flicks have.  And it did, to be sure, but it felt kind of like chewing an old piece of gum - this new Indy was a little tough to swallow.

    Twenty years later (ten years in film time), World War II is over, and the Cold War has begun.  Henry Jones, Jr aka Indiana (self-named after his dog and played by Harrison Ford), after being a decorated soldier and spy for the US government in between teaching at university and trotting the globe in pursuit of his "grave-robbing" archaeology, is captured by KGB spies, including Irina (Cate Blanchett) and taken to none other than Area 51 and a top-secret US military warehouse.  Stored there, among other treasures (hint), is a mysterious skeleton, already implied to be extraterrestrial and not the kind that phones home.  Indy teaches those Russkies how to find lost alien skeletons and then runs away - to an atomic bomb testing site, where climbing in a refrigerator made of lead will save him from the torching effects of A-bomb explosions and also, surprisingly, the radiation from the resulting mushroom cloud.  I digress.  His companion, Mac (Ray Winstone), however, is a traitor, former British spy turned KGB, and the Americans begin to suspect Indy of also having commie-tendencies.  Fortunately, after being fired from his university job for this unwanted attention, he meets Mutt Williams (Shia LeBeouf), who gives him a letter from his mother telling of her and archaeologist Harold Oxley's (John Hurt) search for the Crystal Skull.  What ensues is a trip to South America and a lot of history about an ancient kingdom of gold, which could only be opened by this oddly-formed Crystal Skull and its mysterious power, and a chase by the KGB to get their hands on this power.  Oh - and Mutt's mom turns out to be none other than Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen), Indy's true love from Raiders of the Lost Ark.  I'll leave you to figure out what that might mean for Mutt (as that is not his real name). 

    The review below mine that deems KSC to be no better or worse than the Temple of Doom about sums up how I feel about KSC.  The difference, though, is that KSC feels like all of the Indy flicks rolled up into one, except everyone is much older and more tired-looking, and there is nothing inspired or original except Cate Blanchett's performance and the decidedly fantasy-science fiction Macguffin behind the plot.  In fact, it feels like Indy meets Star Wars - complete with that scream thing that has a special name and Harrison Ford delivering "I have a bad feeling about this" a la Han Solo - meets Close Encounters.  I blame this all on Georgie and Stevie.  We all know that George Lucas' streak of originality is limited and has long since dried up, since he continues to mine his old ideas for stale newish ones.  Limited as a filmmaker much?  What's disappointing, though, is that Stevie, at least when around Georgie, seems to take on those characteristics too.  This fourth film follows the two cardinal rules of a sequal to a tee and to limited success: recycle as much as you can, and more is better, with the heaviest leaning on the first.  There's nothing interesting acting-wise, and even the sets and camera work leave something to be desired.  Stevie needs to get with the new age - I hear he's not a fan of digital effects and cameras, but those might better have suited this decidedly futuristic, science fiction-y plot.

    That's not to say that KSC wasn't fun in its own right.  Harrison clearly had fun putting on that fedora again.  He's still as cranky and sarcastic as ever - moreso now with his advancing years - and the funniest lines all belong to him.  Karen Allen played Marion with that same spunky spark she had in Raiders, and it made you wonder why that character was abandoned for so long when Harrison and Karen's chemistry was so good.  John Williams dusted off the Indy theme and gave it some new life.  And Indy (and family) continued to get involved in ridiculously impossible action scenes that he continued to escape in ways more improbable than those of James Bond.  Also, there were some deft little cameos by people and things from the original trilogy.  Don't miss the Lost Ark, folks, found again!

    Still, twenty years might have been too long a wait to revisit Indy.  This film seems to lack the spirit of the original trilogy (yes, including Temple of Doom) that, at least, drew me in and made me want to be an archaeologist. It all felt contrived and forced together, like quarreling family members who agree to make nice for the sake of the other family at the reunion.  And I just kept thinking, sheesh, Harrison is really starting to show his age; if they had made this movie five years earlier, it might have been ok.  Also, the Russians and the KGB are not as formidable and menacing as villains as the Nazis were.

    I had more fun in this movie than in Prince Caspian, though, and the fun element leads me to give KSC a 7 for being "shaky but entertaining."  Shaky it is, with all of its recycled Indy nostalgia, but entertaining because I laughed quite a bit, even if it was at the preposterousness of Indy and company surviving dives over three separate waterfalls.  It also probably passes the test, what with my OCD tendency to complete series, though I might wait for it to be cheap.  Raiders still remains my favorite of the Indy movies, and I don't hate Georgie and Stevie for trying.  Still, it might be nice if they moved on to bigger and better ideas - if either of them has any anymore.


  • Revisionist Prince Caspian Is, In Many Ways, Disappointing

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    My first trip to the movie theater in months (the last movie I saw there was Sweeney Todd) consisted of, well, sort of, a double feature.  This is the movie I came to the theater intending to see.  In all fairness, I was not over-fond of Andrew Adamson's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (LLW) when it came out.  For those of you who read my blog regularly and don't already know these quirks about me, here are some qualifiers: 1) I love fantasy, and most trips to the theater involve seeing those fantasy films that appeal to me.  2) My favorite books of all time, in this order, are The Lord of the Rings (plus the Hobbit); the Harry Potter series; and the Chronicles of Narnia. 3) As a result, I hold any adaptations of said books to a stringent level of crticism.

    I read the Chronicles as a child the first time and was hooked.  I still pull them out occasionally.  CS Lewis, though he wrote the novels as allegory for various Biblical stories and events, spun some magical yarns apart from that aspect that really pique the imagination.  Prince Caspian, according to the original publishing order (not the chronologically reordered HarperCollins set), is the second book, but it's probably my third favorite of the seven, after LLW and the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and I know it pretty well.  The trouble is, the screenwriters and director, aside from some key plot events and characters, seemed to throw the book out entirely and create their own story.  The first movie (LLW) did this as well, but the revisions were more embellishments than actual revisions.  Prince Caspian (PC) takes the embellishments to all new, and less preferable, levels as well as contains completely rewritten elements, and the filmmakers cannibalize other book-to-film adaptations in the process.

    The titular character (Ben Barnes) is heir to the throne of Narnia, until his usurping Uncle Miraz (Sergio Castellito) and Aunt Prunaprismia give birth to a son.  Caspian is forced to run into hiding, as Miraz means to kill him as he did his father.  Caspian is forced deep into the woods, which are feared by his people, humans called Telmarines (it's not explained, but Telmar is a land adjacent to Narnia).  The Telmarines have long since conquered Narnia and banished its true inhabitants, Talking Beasts and Dwarves and Fauns and Tree-People, into hiding, though stories of them, of the ancient Kings and Queens, and of the Lion Aslan still prevail.  In the film, Caspian discovers a badger named Trufflehunter and Dwarves named Trumpkin (Peter Dinklage) and Nikabrik (Warwick Davis) - but not without using the gift given to him by his tutor, Doctor Cornelius.  He blows Queen Susan's magic horn for help.  Fortunately, these three Narnians (through reluctantly on Nikabrik's part) accept Caspian as the savior of their people by his very possession of the Horn, nominate him to be their King, and encourage him to make war on Miraz.  In the meantime, the Horn's magic summons Peter (William Moseley), Susan (Anna Popplewell), Edmund (Skandar Keynes), and Lucy (Georgie Henley) Pevensie from, according to the film, a Tube station in London, where they sit waiting to go to school, to Narnia.  What they come to realize is that hundreds of years have passed; the Narnia they knew is no more, as their former castle, Cair Paravel, lays in ruin.  When Trumpkin is captured and banished to the island holding these ruins, the four Pevensies learn of the fate of Narnians at the hands of the Telmarines and Miraz,and set about helping Caspian in his quest to save Narnia.

    This is the bullet point plot summary.  There are other layers I have not even begun to touch on.  I can't say I completely hated PC, but I didn't like it, either.  I have never seen a more revisionist adaptation to film in my life.  Not only are events completely changed--Caspian, in the book, for example, does not blow the horn until he and his Narnian counterparts are already deep into a losing battle with Miraz and his troops--but certain aspects are created that were never in the book.  In the film, for example, the Pevensie children seem to be more spectators of their own history than integral to the plot, at least until the last third of the movie.  The character development is lackluster at best on all fronts, but this is what we do know: Peter is quite a heel, angry and insecure, and determined to assert his male dominance in all situations to prove to himself that he is mature (this was never in the book).  Susan and Caspian have romantic feelings toward one another, and she's much calmer and gentler than in the book (the writers chose to make her a prat in the first movie, instead, I guess).  Lucy never stands up for herself as she does in the book when she thinks she finally sees Aslan (voiced by Liam Neeson) when they are lost.  The only true characterization of the children is Edmund, though Skandar played him as seemingly a little depressed most of the time.

    The screenwriters also chose to make Caspian the reluctant hero a la the hero's journey (which is flawed because he is already a prince, not an everyman) rather than a man-boy who had heard stories of Narnia all his life and was moved to fight for that cause because of his deep love for those stories.  None of the Narnian characters retain the spirit of the characters as written in the book - except Reepicheep (voiced by Eddie Izzard).  I just felt like I was watching something that ignored its source material most of the time and tried to force themes and situations into the story that CS Lewis never even intended.  It's a sign when adapted screenplays fail to use hardly any of the dialogue written in the book; I can think of maybe three scenes that used actual dialogue from the book in PC.

    Let's talk about the embellishments themselves.  There were lots more battles than in the book, including an attempt, led by Peter, to storm Miraz's castle.  The one-to-one fight between Peter and MIraz was exciting and true to story, though it coincided with Lucy running to find Aslan (when he should have already been found by then).  Susan apparently scoffs at those archaic, male-dominant conventions and fights in the battles with her bow.  All of this would be well and good if the battles, as filmed, did not borrow liberally from the Lord of the Rings films in such an obvious and sort of tacky way.  Lewis and JRR Tolkien were contemporaries and friends, to be sure, and likely influenced each other, but this was overboard.  When Susan takes out several oncoming Telmarine soldiers with her bow, it reminded me of Legolas in the Fellowship of the Ring.  The trees storming the battle at Aslan's How were reminiscent of the Ents in the Two Towers, and the whole battle with staged Narnians on the How and the oncoming Telmarines echoed of the penultimate battles in the Two Towers and Return of the King films.  It felt, honestly, plagaristic.

    The acting was also terrible on most fronts.  The only convincing actor was Georgie Henley, who played Lucy, but she was clearly given no direction past some well-timed tears and laughter at various points.

    That's not to say that I hated the whole film.  The sets were awesome and very true to the pictures I had in my mind of the Narnian places described by Lewis.  Aslan's How, with the pictograms on the walls and the Stone Table at its heart, was the best of all.  Not all of the embellishments were bad: the scene in which the Hag and Werwolf beg to conjure the White Witch to face Miraz was a nice touch.  The visual effects continued to be impressive.  Also, Harry Gregson-Williams provided another wonderful score that far surpasses the wonder I was supposed to feel by what I was watching.

    When I saw LLW the first time, I felt that it was taken to places I didn't quite agree with, but I thought it was a good, exciting movie that could stand on its own, apart from the source book and other filmed adaptations of the original novel (such as the BBC version that's now almost 20 years old, gasp).  PC is so much different, and not in a good way, that I gave up even trying to compare.  Then, when I sat back to try to enjoy the film on its own merits, it turned out to be uninspired and, frankly, a little boring, with some wooden acting.  All in all, it was a disappointing effort, though there were some scenes that were entertaining.

    As such, I have to rate this movie a 6 for being "cute" because that's what it was.  Like I said, there were parts I enjoyed and some scenes and aspects were done well, so it gets a point for being more than just mediocre.  As for the test, though, it probably passes.  Like with LLW, I might like it better if I see it again.  I will say that this film is more complete than the BBC's hour-long version.  Also, I have this obsessive-compulsive need to complete series.  Still, it won't be one I watch often because it's so different from the original novel, it made me a little sad in the end.  And I don't think PC, like children's fantasy and the book it was based, was intended to be sad.


  • Revisiting Mary Poppins for the AFI Project

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    Under discussion:

    Mary Poppins  (1964)

    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

    Mary Poppins is on the following AFI lists:

    100 Greatest Film Songs (#36 - "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious")
    25 Greatest Movie Musicals (#6)

    What can I say about Mary Poppins?  The biased part of me thinks the film should have made the all-time greatest lists rather than just the greatest musicals list, but that is truly bias speaking because the film is not perfect.  Still, Mary Poppins is my all-time favorite Disney film and a truly great musical film, and I think it definitely deserves to be #6 on that musicals list if nothing else.  (PS, If you're wondering, I copied and pasted Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious here and above.  No sense in straining my brain that long and hard on that one).

    I think it gets points first for story: even though it's an amalgamation of several stories by P. L. Travers, I still think the fantasy of jumping into chalk pavement pictures and having tea parties on the ceiling is a winning one.  I mean, wouldn't Mary Poppins (Julie Andrews) be the most fun babysitter ever?  She answers the torn up advertisement of the two "impossible" Banks children, Jane and Michael, who get the attention of their no-nonsense, career-driven father George by terrorizing every other nanny they have ever had.  When he advertises for a nanny by conventional means, Mary Poppins floats from the clouds using her umbrella with the taped-together version composed by the children in her magically bottomless carpetbag.  She is practically perfect in every way; has a singable answer for all of life's little quirks, trials, and tribulations; and finagles the circumstances so that Mr. Banks (David Tomlinson) realizes that time with his children is short, precious, and to make the most of it.  She makes a few mistakes herself along the way and after all, in part thanks to her weakness for friend and man-about-town Bert (Dick Van Dyke), but it all works out in the end.  And the children get no help from their mother Winnifred (Glynis Johns), since she's out fighting the cause of votes for women while simultaneously playing the doting wife of conservative Mr. Banks.

    Mary Poppins works because it's, in many ways, the ultimate children's fantasy, balancing the ordinary with the extraordinary and philosophizing the mundane through unusual adventures and excitement.  The songs are also fantastic and easily recognizable, and the movie is quotable in its own right.  ("I know a man with a wooden leg Smith...Really?  What's the name of his other leg?") It's one of those Disney films and films in general that have permutated the pop culture lexicon, and the very word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious has been debated ad nauseum regarding spelling, forward and backward.  In terms of its well-knownness, it has its place as an American great.

    My favorite song, and probably one of my top five musical songs, is "Feed the Birds," and it was reportedly Walt Disney's favorite song too.  In fact, this is the last movie he personally oversaw, and it shows.  This film has all of his warmth and heart, which is helped in no small part by the unparalleled Julie Andrews and the affable Dick Van Dyke.  I also like the film because it's set in London and has some of those decidedly English characteristics, even if they're set turn of the century, and even if the film was produced by an American company. 

    Mary Poppins is one of those enjoyable movies from beginning to end, though it has its flaws.  For example, the trip to the bank and the song the bankers sing about tuppence and the bank is slow and awkward, though it sets the scene for Mr. Banks' termination from his job after Michael's ensuing demand for his money back appropriately.  Pacing is a problem, and some of the visual effects are awkward (it was made in 1964 after all), but it's still an enjoyable film in every way.

    I own Mary Poppins, naturally, and pull it out every so often, usually at holidays, though I find the need to watch it other times too.  It reminds me of childhood and those times when I let my imagination run as free as Mary Poppins would allow and make come to life.  I think Mary Poppins can be rated a 9 for being perfectly entertaining.  I adore it, and I am glad the AFI gave it a nod or two in the end.


  • Viewing Fargo for the AFI Project

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    Under discussion:

    Fargo  (1996)

    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

    Fargo is on the following AFI lists:

    The Original Top 100 (#84)
    100 Funniest Films (#93)
    100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Marge Gunderson is the #33 hero)

    Fargo was actually the next entry on my Netflix queue as well, which has suffered severe neglect at the hands of a surprisingly busy May schedule (just finished a run of Kiss of the Spider Woman at a local community theater) and the end of the TV season.  I do love watching things...but I digress.  Fargo also marks the first official movie that I haven't "revisited" to check off an AFI list.  I had never seen it until just now, so that's fortuitous indeed.

    Fargo is one of those films that everyone seems to love.  I remember watching the actual Oscars ceremony when it earned gold for screenplay and for Best Actress Frances McDormand.  It was all the rage.  Of course, in my estimation, it was far more entertaining than The English Patient, which won Best Picture that year.

    Still, I find myself oddly un-wowed by what I just saw.  Don't get me wrong, it's a good little film with layers and levels as those wacky Coen brothers are wont to include.  It's also one of the most effective minimalist undertakings I have ever laid eyes on in cinema.  It's just not one of those movies that left me thinking it was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and, believe me, it's been advertised that way.

    Fargo, as in North Dakota, appears but once in the movie: at the very beginning, where the viewer finds Jerry Lundergaard (William H. Macy) hiring two kidnappers, Carl and Gaear (the fabulous Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare, respectively), to kidnap his innocent, northern Minnesotan wife in exchange for extorted ransom from his wealthy father-in-law, Wade Gustavson (Harve Presnell).  Jerry's in hot water for skimming off the top at Wade's car dealership and decides to have his wife kidnapped, so that he can indirectly collect the ransom and get out of trouble.  Trouble is, hot-headed Carl and unstable Gaear murder a few innocent bystanders, including a state trooper, in their mishandled kidnapping.  Thus, the Chief of Police of small town Brainerd, MN (home of Paul Bunyan and his blue ox), Marge Gunderson (McDormand), gets involved in the investigation and begins to piece together the clues and connections, maintaining an affable, folksy disposition while masking a whip-smart mind and skill as a police officer.

    I think the reason why I didn't like this movie as much as others, including the Coens' Barton Fink, is because this (unlike others) was branded to be funny.  I never found it funny.  I found it quirky, wry, and openly satirical of small town, Minnesotan life, but never once did I find the need to laugh or even chuckle.  O Brother Where Art Thou was funny.  This was not.

    Yet, the film was endearing, because the Coens walked the fence between dark (very dark) comedy and a method crime drama.  All of the characters, with the possible exception of Gaear, were extremely likeable, especially ole Margie Gunderson and her waddling, pregnant, optimistic cop persona.  She was by far the best and most interesting part of the movie, and McDormand deserved her Oscar, exploring a character that was equal parts Nancy Drew and Howdy Doody.  I also enjoyed Steve Buscemi's Carl, which really showcased Buscemi's talent for random temper tantrums that take on lives of their own.  William H. Macy played a particularly pathetic Jerry with his usual, effortless grace.

    Also, I absolutely loved the score and the cinematography.  Never have barren, wintry landscapes been used to as much effect.  In fact, the entire filmmaking technique here, using the natural surrounds and on-location sets, was very effective.  The Coens are from Minnesota, and their respect and affection for, as well as their want to laugh at, their birthplace is very resonant in the simplicity of all of it.

    Still, I find myself bemused but not really in love with Fargo.  Maybe I missed the train again, or maybe I waited too long to see it, creating unreasonable expectations based on hype.  It should be noted, however, that Fargo is one of the films that fell off the original AFI list in favor of the revised list, so I think I'm not the only one that questions its supposed greatness.  Not to say that it isn't great of its own accord, but, again, in comparison to sliced bread...

    In any event, I enjoyed the movie on a basic level because I loved the layers explored in the Coens' original screenplay/story (and I loved how they called it a true story when, in fact, it is no such thing): big city problems in small towns and the not-as-naive-as-you-might-think attitudes of some of their citizens; the consequences of really bad choices made for, essentially, greed; and the need to center and focus on those little things we hold dear.  I have only one gripe with Fargo: why the wood chipper??  That was simply disgusting, and we get the general drift that Gaear is unhinged, but that seemed to make an absurd leap in an out-of-place manner.  Maybe I was just jarred by all that blood in the snow.  All in all, I was otherwise entertained, and for that reason, I give Fargo an 8.5 between minor flaws/very good and perfectly entertaining.  It doesn't pass the test, though.  Though I may be talking like Margie Gunderson for awhile, it's not one of those movies I can see myself repeatedly pulling out for a giggle.  Especially since it never made me do any such thing...which makes me question why it made the AFI funniest list.  Does anyone laugh uproariously when they watch this movie?  Comment below.


  • Revisiting Cabaret for the AFI Project

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    Under discussion:

    Cabaret  (1972)

    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

    Cabaret is on the following AFI lists:

    100 Greatest Film Songs (#18 - "Cabaret")
    25 Greatest Movie Musicals (#5)
    The Revised Top 100 (#63)

    If you'll notice, Cabaret is one of the films that did not make the original AFI Top 100 list but made it into the tenth anniversary edition, and all the way up to number 63.  I am not exactly sure why.  Don't get me wrong, it's an enjoyable musical film, filled with toe-tapping songs and dances (including the famous title song), social commentary in a historical context, and true-to-life situations in fantastic circumstances.  It has its place, but is it one of the 100 greatest American films of all time?  I don't know if I can answer that question here, but I do know that it is not my favorite film.

    In 1931 Berlin, the rise of the Nazi party is played against the backdrop of an underground club called the Kit Kat Club, which features (yes) cabaret performances of the debauch and eye-raising type.  The androgynous Master of Ceremonies (Joel Grey) introduces his musical girlie shows with a wink and a smile, and all of the musical numbers are set in the club, lyrically commenting on the tug of war between the hedonism of the club and the growing popularity (and cruelty) of the Nazi party.  Brian Roberts (Michael York), a British transplant and philosophy student, comes to Berlin in the hopes of becoming a teacher.  There, he meets one of the cabaret performers, the flamboyant American Sally Bowles (Liza Minnelli), a talented songstress (natch) with an unyielding devil-may-care attitude.  There they form a friendship and an eventual romance, until they meet the rich and doting Maximillian, who showers them with attention, gifts, and sex.  The pair's inability to commit to each other, through Sally's emotional shortcomings and Brian's bisexuality, leads to a struggle to hang onto something; the decline of their friendship seems to symbolize the degradation of the national mindset around them.

    I like this film, but, like I said above, it's not my favorite.  Liza is fabulous, and to prove it, she won an Oscar.  In fact, the film won eight, including Best Director (but it lost Best Picture to the Godfather).  Liza plays one of the most fully-realized and flawed female characters to ever hit movie screens with great charisma and spirit, and that voice can only be topped by her famous mother (that's Judy Garland for you unknowing types).  The other actors are also good, particularly the wonderful Joel Grey, who plays the part of knowing narrator with flair and fun.  Also, Cabaret is a Fosse special, and all of the musical numbers are great fun to watch, condensed though they are into the small stage venue of the Kit Kat Club.

    The story is resonant, even though it's period.  It's also sophisticated for the decade in which it was made, addressing hard-hitting themes including sexual freedom versus responsibility and abortion.

    I don't love this film, though, or this musical because I feel like it never decides what it wants to be.  Is it the story of Sally and Brian as friends?  As tragic lovers? The story of a nation on the brink of war?  The story of a club and its patrons trying to remain true to its hedonistic spirit despite what's going on around them?  I know it's all of these things, but the plot, what there is of it, does so much jumping around that there are times when I feel a little bored with making the mental switch each time it leaps.  The B-story of Fritz and Natalia seems to be the more compelling romance, but it flits in and out of frame so often, it's hard to feel all that compelled.  I just feel distracted when I watch this film, though I will say that it was more enjoyable on first viewing.  I am thinking it just doesn't hold up to repeat viewings as much as others.

    Also, it's not really a musical in the classical sense: none of the musical numbers actually drives the plot.  Instead, they sort of punctuate the social discourse in which the film attempts to engage, and that lack of cohesion fuels my distractions.  A scene may be in progress, the frame suddenly flashes to the club where the Master of Ceremonies sings a song that may or may not have anything to do with what was just seen, and then the film jumps again to something entirely different.  My short attention span--and I have a short one--is surprisingly challenged by this film.

    Still, Cabaret has its place in American cinema because of what it is and what it did or attempted to do at the time it was made.  I'm just not convinced that it deserves to be one of the 100, much less #63.  The first list's number 63 was Stagecoach, though, so in that sense, the AFI traded up.  If I were to give Cabaret my personal rating, it would definitely be an 8 (minor flaws/very good).  It doesn't pass the test, however.  I watched it a second time for this AFI Project thing, but I probably won't watch it again, for all the reasons I stated above.  Though, of course, that won't stop me from singing, "Wilkomm, bienvenue, welcome..."


  • Barton Fink, a Writer's Journey

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    Barton Fink  (1991)

    The next couple of entries on the Netflix queue are Coen brother movies, which is good, because the only one I think I have seen of theirs up until now is O Brother Where Art Thou, which made me chuckle but which I did not seem to love as much as other people do.  What I will say is that the Coens seem to make thinkers' movies, and I have been looking forward to seeing a few of them, though not necessarily Barton Fink.  I queued this up when I read the description of the plot because it is about a writer fighting to be a writer who writes something meaningful in this sometimes meaningless world.  Of course, it takes a few twists and turns, but that's what attracted me to the film because I fancy myself a writer (maybe not as much lately but erstwhile and hopefully in the future).  Plus, I was intrigued by the potential intelligence of this film.

    And it was definitely intelligent: not in that earth-shattering genius sort of way, but it was smart and multi-layered and encouraged you to react to some surreal situations.  It also had that dark undercurrent that seems to punctuate many of the Coen brothers' films.

    Barton Fink (John Turturro) is a playwright who has just met his first Broadway success in New York.  As a result, Hollywood comes knocking, and Barton reluctantly agrees to write for the movies in anticipation of the financial reward, though seemingly at a compromise of his principles, as he believes writing should be about the hopes and dreams of the common man rather than some assemblage of abstract thoughts for literary minds or a commercial enterprise.  This compromise manifests into writers' block; as a solution, he seeks out the advice of another novelist-turned-screenwriter, the drunk and animated W.P. Mayhew (John Mahoney, playing a Faulkner type).  Mayhew's "personal" secretary Audrey (Judy Davis), who has ghost-written several of Mayhew's projects, takes an interest in Barton as does Barton's next-door-neighbor, Charlie (John Goodman in an outstanding performance), a likable salesman looking to chat away a few lonely nights.  Things go horribly awry when Barton gets roped into a murder investigation, and the plot takes a few turns that I will not even risk spoiling.  Other appearances include Tony Shalhoub as the producer behind Barton's potential film and Steve Buscemi as the bellhop for the run-down dump of a hotel in which Barton sets up residence.

    I liked this movie because it worked on many levels that did not really seem to intersect.  It was like lasagna, actually: distinct layers of noodles, meat, and cheese that work well together but are totally separate, parallel even.  On the one hand, the film was about the writer's journey, and what I loved were the little details, the sounds of the empty hotel that seem to haunt and plague Barton as he struggles to write a "wrestling picture."  The peeling of the wallpaper; the long, empty hall of unshined shoes; the picture of the woman staring at the ocean waves; I found it all to be a sensitive examination of the writer's mind and journey in the occasional struggle to create.  In fact, the hotel became something of a visual metaphor for Barton's particular creative dilemma, and I thought it was kind of brilliant to sort of make the surrounds its own supporting character.  I kept wondering where they filmed this movie, but I didn't dig into the DVD extras to look.

    On the other hand, the movie is about what happens when an ordinary man gets caught in extraordinary circumstances and how the ordinary man reacts.  The murder investigation throws the viewer for quite a loop, and the movie takes on a very surreal flavor as Barton struggles to piece together his shattered perceptions.

    Of course, on the still other hand, the film is about how things are not what they seem.  Shattered perceptions, particularly of the ideals that the common man or even the thinking man develops in his mind, are a dominant theme.  I cannot spoil it, though.  This movie worked so well for me because I knew little about it, so the twists were especially effective.  I would not dream of ruining it for others who might want to see it.

    The performances in this film by Turturro and Goodman were outstanding.  I was especially impressed with John Goodman, who is known for his comedic acting, but he played the gregarious though decidedly "off" Charlie with skill I was not aware he had.  John Turturro has always been one of those character actors that seems to find the center of his role so completely that suspension of disbelief is not even a question.  Barton was a sympathetic character despite his cerebral qualities because he experiences real emotions, which Turturro seemed to portray with ease.

    Also, this story was so original and well-executed, I am finally a believer in those who extol the Coens.  I am looking forward to finally seeing Fargo, which I believe is next up on the queue.

    I have a few miniscule complaints about this movie, however, that keep me from thinking this is a masterpiece or even perfectly entertaining.  The pacing in the middle of the film seemed to slow to a bit of a crawl, when the beginning was already sort of ambling along at an easygoing trot.  Perhaps it was to dull the viewer's senses a bit before the ensuing events unfolded, but I had the itch to pause the movie for a snack at that point, and I am not sure it was necessary given that the film was already moving at an almost methodical speed, drawing the viewer into the logical, frustrated, creative mind of Barton.  Also: what was in the box?!  I have a few theories (a head, for starters, and this film predated Seven), but why was it never opened?  As with Lost in Translation, I find secrets like this a little annoying.  I know Barton may not have wanted to find out or further shatter his already broken perspective, or maybe the lesson is that some things are better left secret and unknown, and ideals and fantasies are better suited to one's comfort and well being.  With all of the attention to it, though, I felt a bit incomplete.  Even with the beautiful ending frame, which was simply poetic, I still was left asking, "That's it??"  Also, what happened to the no-doubt over-torched hotel?  I found myself wondering after Chet, the Steve Buscemi character.  He was so eager, after all.

    All in all, however, these are minor flaws and quirky ones at that, and there are only a few, so I rate this movie an 8.5 between minor flaws/very good and perfectly entertaining.  In terms of the test, I think I would purchase it if I found it for cheap, perhaps, but I don't know if I liked it enough to wishlist it right away.  Still, this film is a very good one, and it makes you think.  This writer appreciated though cautiously loved Barton's unusual journey.