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Viewing Hotel Rwanda for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

Hotel Rwanda (2004)

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

Hotel Rwanda is on the following AFI list:

100 Most Inspiring Movies (#90)

Hotel Rwanda is the third Africa message movie to appear in my weekly red envelope in the past couple of months. Don Cheadle, another actor I like in just about everything he does, was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, and, for some reason, I've never been able to see this film until this past week, on my day off after a long weekend of technical rehearsals for "A Wonderful Life" at the Grand Rapids Civic Theater (buy a ticket today!). As it turns out, it also happens to be an AFI movie! The sneaky AFI decided that the film was worthy enough to make the 100 Cheers list, the list they deemed to be the 100 most inspirational films in American film history, which was published the year of the film's release. I think that's a fair cop - after all, Hotel Rwanda tells the truly inspiring story of one man's selflessness in the face of insurmountable odds. It was an incredibly moving motion picture, moreso than similar films I've watched in recent memory.

Based on true events, Cheadle plays Paul Rusesabagina, manager of the Hotel Les Milles Collines in Kigali. The hotel is a swanky arm of a Belgian corporation, which generally serves rich (White) Westerners, high-powered African officials, and journalists. As the movie explains, through some very compelling storytelling by peripheral characters, including an American journalist (Joaquin Phoenix), Rwanda once colonially belonged to Belgium, and those in power decided to divide and designate the Rwandan people according to look, such that some are considered Hutu while others are considered Tutsi. The Tutsis, which I guess were traditionally lighter skinned and perhaps more European looking, and also were in the minority, were given power upon Belgium's exodus from the country. Thus, Hutu extremists, traditionally oppressed along these tribal lines, initiated a mass genocide of Tutsis in the late 90s. At first, Paul, who is Hutu and is married to a Tutsi woman, Tatiana (Sophie Okonedo), is content to use his uncanny talent for sweet talk, charm, and salesmanship, and his steadily acquired political and financial capital, to preserve his family's safety, but as he witnesses a rise in the murder of innocent Tutsi men, women, and children, he realizes he cannot ignore their plight. He manages to house several Tutsi refugees in the hotel, while visitors to Rwanda are deported or rescued and Hutu loyalists commit increasing acts of violence with the intention of purging their country of Tutsis. Paul is left in charge and must fight to protect the people hidden in his hotel as powerful Hutu sects seek to attack it, and as United Nations peacekeepers, including one played by Nick Nolte, attempt to protect the people, hoping in this act of futility that Western countries will intervene.

I loved this movie because it was so moving. First, it adequately explained and provided the historical context of this civil war and did so in a way that did not feel like I, as the viewer, was being pandered to; in fact, I doubt that many people realize the source of this conflict, even if they were aware of the conflict itself. This film provided a powerful historical mirror to look back and examine an otherwise little-known but ugly chapter in world political history. In fact, the real life Mr. Rusesabagina was a consultant on the film, so the story being told was compelling because it was a true story based on real events, told from the perspective of the person who was actually involved.

Second, Cheadle gave an incredibly nuanced, resonant, and powerful performance as Rusesabagina. The range of emotions displayed as this character ran the gamut from pure fright, to indignant anger, to relieved joy, to commisserating sadness and empathy. It was tour de force, and his sincerity and, in many ways, naked compassion were incredibly touching. I cried at this film; in fact, the story and his performance moved me far more than the last two Africa message movies I consumed.

I think the most impressive part of this movie is how the director and filmmakers did not resort to showing the most graphic of the violent acts to paint the picture. Instead, the film was punctuated by disturbing images, including bodies lining the streets and blood on children to provide just enough of the story to grab hold of the viewer and actually tug at those heartstrings, without doing so in a manipulative or, as I indicated, graphic way. There was just enough imagery to reach a conclusion, that the atrocities were undeniable, without totally glorifying one tribe or demonizing the other one. The film's focus was the human interest angle and the actions of one man, but it was also an examination of the results of segregation and discrimination that provided an interesting parallel to many conflicts throughout the world, including race conflicts in America.

In that way, I've read in many places that this film is "sort of an African Schindler's LIst." There are many similarities that can be gleaned from the two films, especially given the similarlity between Oskar Schindler's evolving sense of selfishness turned selflessness to Paul Rusesabagina's evolving sense of self-protection turned protection of people with whom he has nothing in common. To make that comparison and call it all a day's work is too easy and too trite, however. It's a different time, a different conflict, a different people being depicted, and the only lesson in deriving such a comparison is, perhaps, the idea that history repeats itself, often cyclically. My feeling after reading this description was to dismiss it; after all, there may be similarities between the two men in focus, but that only gives me hope that if the bad stuff in history repeats, so too does the good stuff. Schindler's List is an artistically better directed film anyway.

That's not to say that the film is perfect. In fact, there are two points in the story, two scenes, that render the film less than perfect for me and made me wonder whether it really happened that way or whether it was a license taken by the filmmakers to try to force high drama in an already intense and dramatic motion picture. For one, there is a scene in which Nick Nolte's character explains to Rusesabagina that no one will come to help the refugees or the Rwandans because they are merely African - yet the dialogue uses a somewhat tasteless racial slur that seems so out of place, even if the point is meant to describe Africa as the forgotten continent and its countrymen as forgotten people. The other scene is when Paul tries to convince his wife that it would be better if she and their children, including their traumatized son, jumped from the roof of the hotel rather than be shot by any Hutu soliders that overrun it. I guess his argument is that the children would, in that event, not be able to see their mother or parents die first or vice versa, but it seemed like a tall and implausible request, even in those extreme, life-threatening circumstances (though it was more likely to have happened and made more sense than the other needless scene).

Still, I think Paul Rusesabagina's story is truly inspiring, and I loved the movie because the story was complete, the suspension of disbelief was complete, the performances were excellent, and my heart was officially filled with horror, hope, sadness, and joy, which is about as much as you can hope for from a drama of this type. I think the film deserves an 8.5 rating, between minor flaws and very good (given the couple of less-than-palatable or sense-making scenes) and perfectly entertaining. As for the test, I'm not sure about this one. I don't own Schindler's List, which is a superior film that I've seen a number of times; I mean, I just don't see pulling out Hotel Rwanda for a giggle when I'm merely looking for a movie to watch. Even if the test is not a pass, though, I still highly recommend this movie because I can't imagine anyone not being moved by the inspirational story it tells, making it a deserving entry on its one AFI list.

Posted Monday, November 24, 2008 10:26 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Viewing Midnight Cowboy for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

Midnight Cowboy (1969)

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

Midnight Cowboy is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#36)
100 Greatest Film Songs (#22 - "Everybody's Talkin'")
100 Movie Quotes (#27 - Enrico 'Ratso' Rizzo: "I'm walking here! I'm walking here!")
The Revised Top 100 (#43)

For some reason, I was unable to procure Midnight Cowboy from acquaintances, relations, or my beloved Netflix, so, as temptation makes it so easy compared to the more daunting task of trying to scout out a hard or digital copy of the movie a bit more legitimately, I procured the film another way. Yes.

It's been a week since I've watched this film, thanks to the opening of "A Wonderful Life" at the Grand Rapids Civic Theater, in which I play many roles (your general ubiquitous ensemble type member). Buy a ticket today! I knew very little about the film, except fhat it received an X-rating at the time of its release, and that it was the first X-rated movie to win the Best Picture Academy Award. Other than that, I didn't know what I was getting into, aside from the available though cursory plot descriptions. Even now, days later, I'm not sure what it was I watched or how I feel about it, other than, like The Graduate, I feel that this film may be another one of those perfect time capsules that represent a generation and a decade but don't necessarily transcend those boundaries. Then again, maybe the film is powerful but subtlely so, working its power by making one think after the film finishes, rather than during the viewing of it, and giving the film greatness when considered after-the-fact.

Joe Buck (a young and boyish-looking Jon Voight - Angelina Jolie's dad for you Tomb Raider fans) decides to leave his small Texan hometown, where he works as a dishwasher in a greasy spoon, to make his fortune as a gigolo in New York City. Though he exudes a buoyant, though stupid, sort of confidence at his prospects of charming potential Park Place penthouse patrons, he finds that the night life as a fantasy cowboy is not as easy or as lucrative as he first thought, especially when he finds himself paying his teary-eyed first trick. Fortunately, Joe meets Enrico 'Ratso' Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman), a swindler and petty thief with a stunted walk due to a physical deformity, who navigates condemned city tenements in an effort to survive. While initially mistrustful of Ratso, since he once swindled Joe out of some money in a scam to connect him with a pimp who, apparently, has found Jesus, once Joe finally goes broke, he accepts Ratso's reluctant offer to stay with him. The unlikely odd couple then come to rely on each other in the face of the cold, hard city perils, as Ratso attempts, futile though it is to do so, to develop a clientele for Joe and when the pair find themselves at a Warhol-esque party overflowing with hard drugs. In the meantime, Ratso grows ill and gets worse, dreaming though he is of sunny Florida and its healing sunshine.

I've thought long and hard about my opinion of this picture and why others might consider this a great movie. I think part of its luster comes from the groundbreaking mainstreaming of some subjects that earned its X-rating, though, let's face it, the movie would be an R by today's standards. There's the implication of homosexual gratification when Joe agrees to a male trick (played by a young Bob Balaban). There's also some much more explicit heterosexual sex going on, not to mention overt drug use. It's all kind of timely given the year of release,1969, which was also the year of Woodstock and the height of sexual revolution and anti-war sentiment in the country. I can't help but feel that these elements, so obviously depicted the way that they were, elevated this film to a cultural height and sense of legend that, perhaps, outshines and overshadows how good or great the film really is.

Perhaps that's oversimplifying it a bit, though, even selling the film short, because Joe and Ratso find each other when they are otherwise alone, when the morning after settles into hard reality or when the haze of the high fades. All Movie Guide describes the film as an "ode to the impossibility of the liberation from reality." It seems to be the generational response to the times as the swinging 60s began their transition to the stagnant 70s. It's a cynical take on things, even if there is more than a grain of truism to it, though the film offers that glimmer of hope, that sense that even the loneliest, lost soul can find belonging and connection, even if fleeting.

It's these complex themes that prompt me to like the film, but I don't love it or see it as a masterpiece of film artistry. It's a testament to times and feelings and places, and it has a timeless quality, but it's a time capsule that either holds relevance for the viewer, or it doesn't. Voight and Hoffman give very good performances, but their characters feel like caricatures, undermining the gritty realities being depicted with a somewhat cartoonish surreal hue that, at least, prevented me from connecting with their story - at least until the haunting conclusion, which brings all of the emotional themes to a resonating center.

The film was based on a novel, and I lend the credit for the many layers and commentaries being explored to the original author. I enjoyed the direction by John Schlesinger (though I don't think it's so wonderful just because he was British and not American - I think that's kind of a naive, even an arrogant way to look at it). I liked how Joe's personal history was interspliced with his present day, making each hazy flashback dream-like, though, as it turned out, hard to follow. This also goes for Ratso's idealized visions of escape in Florida with the impossibly bright cinematography on top of natural sunlight to lend each vision even more surreality. I also think the "Everybody's Talkin'" song, which also, appropriately, crops up on the Forrest Gump soundtrack, was a pitch perfect accompaniment that sort of boiled the movie down to a cliffnotes version that could be appreciated by any viewer of any generation. It deserves its assignment to the AFI's Songs list.

I liked this movie, and I liked its message about belonging and connection as it related to Joe and Ratso's partnership, a theme that would eventually be recycled in many formats and ways, not the least of which include themes explored in the musical "Rent." I didn't love it though because I felt the movie has been elevated more than it deserves, and I say this, perhaps, as a biased Generation Xer seeing the film for a first time through the lens of history. Perhaps, if I were a boomer reliving the era in my viewership, I would think differently.

Because of the portrayals of the characters - which didn't seem to me to be sensitive or sympathetic, even given each character's particular hardships and histories, and whether that was originally written or performed or directed that way, I don't know - I am going to rate the film a 7.5 between shaky if entertaining and minor flaws/very good. Some may cry blasphemy, but I've given the film a week's worth of consideration, and this is how fair I can be - and truth be told, I do like the movie, as I stated before. I just don't find it the great film that many other people seem to see it as. So, as to tests, this is not a pass for me, aside from what I procured. I wasn't offended by any piece of it, but I didn't like it enough to purchase it. Midnight Cowboy is a film for a generation, but for me, there are other films of the era that I enjoy more - including The Graduate - which leave me feeling a little more positive about and connected to the idealism and the ensuing harsh wake-up calls the country received those decades ago.

Posted Sunday, November 23, 2008 9:31 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting It Happened One Night for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

It Happened One Night (1934)

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

It Happened One Night is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#35)
100 Funniest Films (#8)
100 Years...100 Passions (#38)
The Revised Top 100 (#46)
10 Top 10's (#3 Romantic Comedy)

I bought It Happened One Night for this project (the test passes) because when I saw it the first time, I absolutely loved it. I still absolutely love it. Branded as the first screwball comedy - and, therefore, a formula creator - this movie really makes me laugh. It's almost 75 years old now, and yet, it holds up very well. That could be owing to the fact that Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, the leads here, were two of those stars that had impeccable comedic timing and an unusual but palpable chemistry. It could be owing to the fact that director Frank Capra (this is his third movie on the original AFI list after It's a Wonderful Life and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) had a wonderful bead on the silly situations being depicted and milked those two actors and the situations for all they were worth. It is probably both of these things and more - this film is just one of those magical films that play very well and possess a certain timeless quality that make them as good as when they were first released, at least, as I can only guess.

Let me see if I can summarize this plot with any effectiveness: Ellie Andrews (Colbert), a spoiled, selfish, rich girl who pays a price for her spoiled-ness by being under the thumb of her father, marries what he perceives to be a lothario, King Westley, in a whirlwind - though there is really no evidence that he's a womanizer of that proportion, but it was 1934, so what do I know? Mr. Andrews demands an ennulment and means to force Ellie into it - until she decides to run away and meet her beloved in New York City. So, she dives off the deck of her father's yacht in Miami and makes a break for it, which is great fodder for the newspapers. In the meanwhile, Peter Warne (Gable), journalist, gets fired for being drunk on the job and, let's face it, insulting his boss. He buys a ticket on the Greyhound to New York and has to fight the driver for the last seat, which Ellie silently sits in. Thus, the two are forced to share, and our screwball world is born. Peter quickly learns that Ellie is a "brat," prone to high-minded if misguided ideals and a skewed world perspective, but he's not all sunshine and roses himself. Snarky and sarcastic, even if gentlemanly, Peter, who recognizes Ellie, sees her as his "in" to get his job back. Thus, he makes her a promise: he will see her to New York and King Westley provided that she doesn't run away and provides him an exclusive interview. Of course, their journey is more complicated than that, given the fact that Ellie's father posts a reward for her return and, also, the fact that Ellie is perfectly hopeless in the real world, rendering Peter her guardian and guide. And wouldn't you know it - romance blossoms!

This film was the first of only three films in history to win the Big Five Oscars - Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay. I think they were well deserved. This film is kind of ahead of its time, even though it turns out to be a perfect time capsule for the 30s. I get a huge kick out of seeing the various cultural conventions of the day, from the fashion, to the technology, to the expectations. My how the world has changed.

But I digress. This movie is so good because its magical ingredients make it timeless, as I've said. Gable and Colbert are pitch-perfect romantic leads. Especially that Clark Gable - he had that scalawag sense of comedic timing, making him and his characters seem like the real bad boys a girl could fall for - and then he would turn on that smile and sensitive, fierce protectiveness within the character that could make a girl swoon. It was evident as Rhett Butler, too, though that character was more of a cad. The scene in the field, when Peter bends over Ellie after tucking her in under the hay, is a hearts-pitter-patter moment - thus, its high ranking on the AFI's Passions list. It was because Gable was so handsome, had so much romantic charisma, and had one of the best sarcastic deliveries I can think of in the history of film (bested, perhaps, only by Humphrey Bogart), while still willing to lay himself on the line for the slapstick or other physical comedy-moment. He was also very good at playing drunk for laughs - just watch his introductory scene in this film.

Colbert also portrayed that giddy sense of comedy while still remaining ladylike. My favorite scene of hers is when Ellie's father's detectives track her down to the Auto-Camp where Peter and Ellie stay during the torrential rains that flood the road and prevent the Greyhound from driving through the night. They had posed as a married couple to share the cabin, even though Peter had erected the "walls of Jericho" via means of a blanket and a clothesline. In the scene, in order to thwart the detectives' trail, Peter makes a big fuss, and Ellie chimes in as the whiny, shrill, misunderstood wife while steadily combing her hair down over her eyes. I can't describe it to do it justice, but the whole thing is just very funny. And then, of course, there was that leg. Colbert reportedly hated making the picture and sort of loathed Capra based on previous films they'd made together (though she was under contract and negotiated twice her usual salary), but it doesn't show. Both actors, including Gable (on loan from MGM as "punishment," so it says), professionally never showed their distaste for their circumstances in their performances.

I also like the perfectly executed story. Of course, it's all naturally preposterous, as screwballs often are, and it's formulaic, as romantic comedies often are (this is one of the first of each, technically), but that's what gives rise to the laughs. The film earns its place on the AFI Funniest list too because there are times I find myself giggling into stiches while watching this film.

The film isn't quite a masterpiece - some of the scenes and situations come out of left field, even if they find some resolution - and we don't actually get the benefit of seeing Peter and Ellie together in the end, though it's insinuated heavily - but it's hugely entertaining and such a cute film. Technically, it's nothing partiuclarly special, but what can one expect from 1934 and, arguably, a comedy? That's not a complaint from me. I enjoy the movie so much and plan to enjoy it a few times more in the future. I think this film deserves a 9 for being perfectly entertaining because it does what it's supposed to do, at least for me - make me laugh, make me swoon, make me feel touched. My only question - I wonder where the title comes from? The film takes place over more than one night, and Peter and Ellie meet during the day. Anyone have any insight? Maybe I'll try looking it up.

Posted Tuesday, November 11, 2008 12:29 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Viewing High Noon for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

High Noon (1952)

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

High Noon is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#33)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#20)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Will Kane is the #5 hero)
100 Greatest Film Songs (#25 - "High Noon (Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin)")
25 Film Scores (#10)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#27)
The Revised Top 100 (#27
10 Top 10's (#2 Western)

Taking a break from more recent movie fare (and cutting into the string of message movies about Africa to which I alluded in my last entry), my weekly red envelope brought my next AFI film, High Noon. As this film is a western, and as westerns are my least favorite film genre, I had never seen it before. Now, when I say that westerns are my least favorite genre, repeatedly, it's not to say that I don't like westerns in general. There are some westerns that I do kind of like quite a bit, such as Wyatt Earp and Tombstone and Dances with Wolves and True Grit and the Searchers and Stagecoach and a few others. As a genre, though, it's not my favorite because westerns generally follow a largely predictable pattern, or formula, if you will. There is always a good guy - he could be upstandingly, heroically good or morally ambiguous with a heart of gold, but there's an undisputed good guy. There is always a bad guy - some doofus who wants to rob, cheat, steal, murder, and make general mayhem. He often has a sinister moustache. There is always a showdown or shootout or big battle with pistols and horses. Sometimes, there are Indians involved (which is problematic on all levels, but I'm not getting into that here). And there is almost always either a damsel in distress or a damsel with panache who could never be in distress because she's too busy standing by and fighting with her man to beat down the bad guys. Oh, and the good guys always win, and it's usually very dusty. And more often than not, there's a train involved. What is it about trains?

Ok, I admit it, I'm oversimplifying a bit. Even the best westerns, though, adhere to this formula at least in part, and High Noon is no exception. The best westerns are the best, however, because some part of the formula will be tweaked enough, even turned on its ear, to make that western film more special. High Noon is one of the special ones.

In the film, Will Kane (the ever-handsome Gary Cooper) is about to retire as the Hadleyville town marshal and settle down with his new Quaker and pacifist bride, Amy (Grace Kelly, very young), until he hears that the Miller gang is back in town, and that Frank Miller, who he sent up for murder and who was pardoned by the judge, is due on the noon train. Despite the townspeople's - and his wife's - constant protests and encouragements to leave, Will finds he can't go. He feels a duty and a loyalty to the town he served, and since the replacement marshal won't be arriving until the following day, Kane puts off his retirement in the hopes of rounding up a posse and making a stand against Miller, who will no doubt be bent on revenge. The trouble is, as he visits every able-bodied man he can think of, whom he at one time considered his friend, he finds himself standing alone, as each friend abandons him in turn. His deputy, Harvey (Lloyd Bridges), covets his job and his ex-mistress. His mentor (Lon Chaney, Jr.) is old, bitter, and tired. His other friends (one of which is played by Thomas Mitchell) don't want any trouble for the town and believe that Miller won't cause it if Will is good and gone. So, Will readies himself to face Miller and his gang and to stand up for what he believes.

High Noon is special because it tweaks the formula in a way that leaves me feeling very satisfied, at least, and in a way that was kind of groundbreaking for the year it was released (1952). Usually, the hero in a western, especially a classic western, would never show vulnerability. He would be balls-blazing courageous, ready to fight off the meanies about to besmirch his town. Will Kane is not that kind of hero. Oh, he's courageous alright and morally decent - he can't fathom leaving the town defenseless, even if there's a good chance that Miller might give it a pass if Will's not there. But: he's realistic. He knows he'll be outnumbered, and he knows that what he's doing may not be the wisest choice, when he could just run off to his honeymoon with Amy and forget the perils of being a town marshal. So: he asks for help. He does everything but beg for it, and he shows a vulnerable side that I haven't seen too often in our manly heroes, even in more modern western films. Gary Cooper played Kane with such a quiet grace, dignity, and integrity that sort of reminded me of a cowboy-version of Atticus Finch, it was easy to be taken in and, truly, inspired by the performance and the character. That's probably why this film pops up on the AFI's Inspiring films list, and that's probably why Cooper won a Best Actor Oscar for his performance in this film.

The other way this western film is unique is the way director Fred Zinnemann and the screenwriters snuck in some sly social commentary. The townspeople in this film are kind of selfish, scared, and unwilling to do their part. They all agree that Will has served them righteously and excellently during his career, and yet, when he asks for their help, they turn tails and hide. This movie was produced during the rise of the Cold War and McCarthyism - reading the All Movie Guide description on the bottom of this Spout page provides the laundry list of Communist sympathizers and conservative patriots involved in the film. And yet, on one point, they all seemingly agreed: the reactions of the country at large were, perhaps, selfish and scared and over-the-top, not unlike Hadleyville's finest. Apparently, John Wayne, a conservative himself, thought the film un-American for the way it depicted the responses of the masses, but for my money, this film is quite American because it exemplified free speech in art by providing a mirror for the moviegoing public at a time when the message would have been controversial. Some of the subtext of this film is timeless in that it still applies today.

Technically, this film had some unique and excellent elements. Much has been made of the score; it won an Oscar and cropped up on the AFI's top 25. I liked it because it was not a conventional score for a western - which often relies heavily on harmonicas and rolling basses. This score combined some of those traditionally western instruments with a full orchestra. Then, it was combined with that theme song sung by Tex Ritter, which at first I thought was kind of amusingly hokey, and yet, I find myself humming it two days later. Plus, if written just for the film, it was a perfect musical summation of the plot and, yet, profound enough to stand on its own. I also liked the costumes, though I wondered what year this was set in, which was never mentioned.

The only thing I didn't like about High Noon was how the story being told had some holes in it that normally would have been fleshed out. The events of High Noon transpire in real time, however, 50 years before 24 thought of it, so I don't fault the screenwriters or filmmakers too much - there's only so much one is going to learn in 85 minutes, and that concept alone was highly original for its time. There were quite a few references to past events that were never explained, though, and I would have liked to have known more without making so many assumptions. The Miller gang as villains become more of an abstract, even cartoonish, only because their leader is referenced as "crazy," and the viewer is told that he murdered someone, but that's as much as we're given. And we know Will had liaisons with Helen (Katy Jurado) at one point or another, possibly because he saved her from Frank Miller, with whom she also had liaisons, but that's an inference I'm making even now. There are other such quick references, and, like I said, it's not a big complaint from me. Restricting the events to real time kept the story simple, but I pay attention to the details, so I notice when bits are left hanging.

My only other tiny gripe is the fact that Gary Cooper had to be at least in his late 40s by this movie, and Grace Kelly looked like she was 16 (in reality, he was 51, and she was 22)! I know men were likely to take young brides in the old west, but that took some suspension of disbelief on my part. As a romantic couple, I didn't see the chemistry; they felt a little awkward, really. I can't imagine anyone else in either part, but it's just something I noticed from the outset that I couldn't shake. The film wasn't about the romance between these two, though. High Noon is more about standing up for what one knows is right against that which s/he knows is wrong, so that's why this reaction of mine is tiny at best.

In any event, even as a western (and I say that with the highest respect), High Noon was more enjoyable than most. I really loved Gary Cooper and the Will Kane character the best; I think, without him, the film would not have been the pinnacle it eventually became. I wish Spout had an additional rating, like Netflix, where you can say "really like" between "like" and "love." That's kind of where I am with this picture. I didn't love it - it was a western, like I said, and that's my personal bias, but I liked it a whole lot better than lots of other westerns. I see this film as an 8.5 in my ratings world for those eensy peccadillos (not armadillos) that I previously mentioned. The test doesn't really pass, though. As much as I really like High Noon, I don't really like it enough, western or no, to watch it repeatedly, so I see no need to purchase it. It's a great movie, though, and well worth the watch - besides, at 85 minutes' running time, it's minimal risk as movie-watching goes.

Posted Tuesday, November 11, 2008 11:23 AM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

The Last King of Scotland is a Puzzling Piece

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Under discussion:

The Last King of Scotland (2006)

To warn readers, and due to how I voraciously filled up my Netflix queue when I first subscribed, the next three non-AFI related selections (since I occasionally bump a movie up if it's next on the AFI list) not only revert back to Oscar nominees and winners but seem to focus on message movies about Africa. This would be the first of the three and the second overall of four, if Blood Diamond is included. Forest Whitaker won the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Idi Amin, Ugandan dictator in the late 70s. I never watched the movie on release. I tend not to focus my scant (as time allows) Oscar movie watching efforts on the categories where there is no contest, and Whitaker never faced any real competition that year. I have seen four out of the five Best Actor nominated films from that year now, so it's nice to have the comparison (as a reminder, the five actors nominated were Ryan Gosling for Half Nelson; Will Smith for the The Pursuit of Happyness; Leonardo DiCaprio for Blood Diamond; Peter O'Toole for Venus; and Forest). Since this is an award from two years ago, I'll just focus on the film itself, since I also enjoy watching Oscar films a couple of years after the fact because it minimizes the effects of awards-show hype for me.

Yet, again, I digress. The Last King of Scotland is adapted from a novel of the same name. The novel chronicles the events surrounding a fictional character, a doctor Nicholas Garrigan (here played by James McAvoy, aka, Mr. Tumnus), who flees to Africa and Uganda looking for adventure and, apparently, casual sex. Hey, the plot summary above says it that way too! There, while working for a missionary doctor and becoming smitten with his wife, Sarah (Gillian Anderson, aka, Scully), Nicholas bears witness to a village rally by Amin and is taken with his charismatic words. After Amin is injured in a vehicle-on-cow collision and calls for a doctor, and since Nicholas and Sarah are conveniently close by, Nicholas comes to his rescue, having the audacity to speak strongly to Amin and use his gun on the miserable cow without permission. Afterward, Amin is taken with Nicholas and woos him into being his personal family physician. It is during his tenure that Nicholas begins to learn that he is in way over his head, especially after he takes up with Amin's wife Kay (Kerry Washington) and sees Amin for what he really is - a charming, paranoid, and murderous madman.

I have problems with this movie. Before I get to the problems, I'll focus on the positives. Forest Whitaker really was larger-than-life astounding here. I don't know much about Idi Amin, but what I do know is that it could not have been easy to get inside the head of this man who tried to talk himself into believing that killing his own countrymen and deporting certain racial and ethnic groups were all for the good of his country. Bridging the divide between mirthful chucklehead and unhinged paranoic was truly a gargantuan feat, and I think he ultimately deserved Oscar gold because no other role could have been as challenging for an actor who has not, traditionally, taken many acting risks. His performance ratcheted up the level of intensity of this film so much because he was so unpredictable, the viewer never knew where the movie or his mood was going. He stole every scene he was in, even when he was coming unglued, and the menace of his benign side was almost as terrifying as the side prone to random (and not-so-random) murders and mutilations.

The supporting performances were also good if not great. The performance of the smarmy British consul looking to exploit Nicholas' position was not good. I don't know who that guy was, but he was weird - disaffected, almost surreal, but maybe that was because he was simply a convenient plot device.

But wait, I'm focusing on the positives. The direction was decent, using a point-and-shoot documentary style at some points and, at other points, using close-ups to focus on faces and expressions of individuals in large groups listening to or supporting Amin. The unique score was interesting, blending African motifs with hard-edged Western rock in the form of punctuating electric guitar riffs. The pacing was tight - it was an action packed, engaging two hours, and for my money, this was a different film about Africa, in that it didn't focus on the plight as much as on the man responsible for the plight, with the plight being mostly hinted at until Nicholas realizes what is happening in his own mind.

But...then there are the problems, and it starts with the novel. I never read the source material, so I don't know how the characters and events were portrayed there, but the largest problem with the film is that it wanted to tell the story of the rise and fall of this dictator, I guess as a historical study. Yet, the story and the film focused almost entirely on the fictional character's experience and perspective. I read on Wikipedia that Nicholas might have been based on a real doctor (not Scottish) who served Amin, but who never had an affair with his wife and remained in Amin's employ only briefly. The film never shifted focus to Amin - Amin was, at times, a peripheral character, even though he was the antagonist of the piece. The film is told from Nicholas' observations, but he, himself, is a problematic character in that he's some sort of whiny, high-minded but hypocritical jerk, which served well to illustrate why this character might have been charmed by Amin in the first place but did not provide the viewer a sympathetic place to start. In fact, I'm not sure how to accept the point of this story overall - am I supposed to view this movie as one that offers both sides of Amin's character (though it draws a conclusion in the end)? Am I supposed to accept that Africa is just another dumping ground for Western (and, therefore, White) manipulation and colonialism (I think that was the underlying message...), even though Nicholas is just a young and naive Western transplant who doesn't understand the realities of the real world? Am I supposed to feel sorry for Mr. Tumnus or feel angry at Amin or even vice versa? Maybe I'm supposed to have all of these opinions, but that smacks of a lack of center, even if left open to interpretation.

In the end, I don't think it matters what I feel about what the movie was trying to do and say because the movie follows Nicholas, and Nicholas wasn't real, even if Amin was. And Nicholas' story wasn't complete. The entire movie offered a well-rounded, if flawed, character study of the young man until the end, and then all of the footnotes were about Amin. So, perhaps, the focus was on Amin, the self-titled "Last King of Scotland" (because he felt a kinship with the historically oppressed northern neighbor of England), but the viewer is offered so few glimpses into Amin's perspective. That's probably because no one could really know Amin's perspective, especially now since he's no longer alive.

I think the major problem I'm having with the film is that I can't accept it as a non-biased historical study, since there are clearly underlying prejudices on the part of the novelist and/or the screenwriters, and I can't accept it as a work of pure fiction because it uses events that actually happened and doesn't actually work as pure fiction. And if it's a message movie, the message is convoluted. Amin bad? White man bad? The world bad? All of the above? So, my reaction in the end can best be summed up by saying, "What's the point?"

These are strong reactions, but I tend to react stronger to a film that is as graphic as this one turned out to be. I have to understand the motivations and what the movie is trying to convey to me in order to process all of the parts, including the ones I may not have liked (and there is a particularly gruesome scene after Amin finds out about the affair). I understand that the blending of fact and fiction is a creative license on the part of the filmmakers, but my ultimate complaint is that if the license is going to be taken, there should be a center and a focus that The Last King of Scotland as a film fails to achieve because it waffles between a historical examination of a dictator, and the motivations of a man who happens to be employed by him - and the latter is more fleshed out, though not tied off in the end, like, perhaps, with some footnote about what happened to Nicholas Garrigan after the end of the movie. Forest Whitaker's performance is great, but the film is not, as I've so verbosely opined. I think in ratings land - and I find this one a tough one to call - I'm landing on a 6.5, between cute and shaky, though it strikes me that Blood Diamond was actually a better movie all in all. Maybe I need to revise that one up to a 7. In any event, this film fails the test because it was intense and graphic and frustrating, and I don't find that Forest Whitaker's performance makes up for that enough to own the film. The Last King of Scotland is a puzzling piece of filmmaking, even if it is a creative examination of world history not widely known in this day, age, and on the Western side of the world.

Posted Tuesday, November 04, 2008 1:24 PM by pippin06 | with 0 comments

Revisiting The Godfather Part II for the AFI Project

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Under discussion:

The Godfather Part II (1974)

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

The Godfather Part II is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#32)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Michael Corleone is the #11 villain)
100 Movie Quotes (#58 - Michael Corleone: "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.")
The Revised Top 100 (#32)
10 Top 10's (#3 Gangster)

Since I own the Godfather trilogy, I own the second part of the trilogy. The test would have passed anyway. As much as the first one, the second Godfather movie is a masterpiece (a perfect 10 from me!). The reason why it's such a masterpiece is because, when held up to its predecessor, it feels both like a sequel and like its own separate film, that could stand on its own without knowing how Michael (Al Pacino) achieved his crime boss status. It's richer though when the viewer knows the events of the first movie. The question is whether it's better than the original. Some try to argue that it is, but I have issues with that stance. Ergo, I disagree wih that assessment, but before I discuss that opinion - plot summary!

Michael thinks he's being strong for his family, but his decisions do more to alienate and divide than to keep the Corleones together. He tries to expand the family's interests in Las Vegas and Miami with the help of a former associate of his father's, Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), though both are engaged in a silent and duplicitous power struggle in the name of business and profit. Michael's wife Kay (Diane Keaton) tires of the threats on her life and her family and her husband's cold and distant demeanor, occasionally begging him to make the family legitimate. Michael's siblings feel various states of alienation - Connie (Talia Shire) is committed to self-destruction in the face of her overprotective older brother; Fredo (John Cazale) feels the sting of being branded the family idiot (and the consequences of that); and adoptive brother and family lawyer Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) is treated with distrust, so much so that he comes to distrust Michael. All the while, Michael's heretofore pure intentions and aims to liberate himself from his family are long forgotten, as his ambition transforms into his spiritual degradation.

Brilliantly, his downfall is paralleled with the interspliced backstory surrounding the rise of Vito's power. Young Vito (eventually played by Oscar winner Robert DeNiro) escapes Sicily after his entire family is murdered in cold blood by the local mafia boss. He survives and manages to make it to New York City and Little Italy, where Black Hand Fanucci bullies the tenants with extortion and violence. Vito, and his friends, including a young Clemenza (Bruno Kirby), take matters into their own hands and achieve a powerful reputation and status.

Like the original movie, the second film is a thing of beauty in just how well it was made. The performances, particularly by Pacino and DeNiro, are mesmerizingly brilliantly awesome. I don't have enough adjectives for them! Bobby won the Supporting Oscar, deservedly, for evoking Marlon Brando's mannerisms and complex emotional portrayals even when he was not involved in the film. And Pacino gave his career-making performance in this film (it'll probably be referred to on his tombstone, for pete's sake). For consideration of just how good his performance is, I call attention to a couple of scenes: the scene in which Kay tells him she's leaving him; the scene in which he talks to his mother about what she believed his father used to think about; the scene in which he confronts Fredo; the scenes in the Congressional hearing; and the scenes during which he's talking to his sister Connie (at the beginning and at the end). Compare the moods of each scene and notice how Pacino morphed his silence and facial expressions into so many faces and reactions, from explosive anger to fear to heartbreaking sadness to stoicism to disappointment and resignation.

That's the genius about Michael Corleone, Pacino's performance, and Coppola's overall direction of this character and this film. Michael's supposed to be the villain. You're supposed to hate him. He's singlehandedly torn apart that which his father worked so hard to build. The family that he wanted to keep together no longer exists. Yet, he remains so oddly sympathetic; occasionally, you find yourself rooting him on. You can see, through the nuances and total picture painted by Pacino, that Michael believes that what he's doing is the right thing, even though it couldn't be more wrong. That's a powerful and poignant realization, particularly when held up in parallel to Vito who, though morally ambiguous, is never morally corrupt as his son eventually becomes. It's this fulcrum around which this second chapter revolves and what makes the film the great sequel that it is.

The art direction, the cinematography, the score - all of the technical ingredients were given the same treatment and care they were given in the first film. The flashback scenes had the grainy, gold-brown quality that made them feel like old movies, contrasting with the cold, dark ,almost oppressive hues of Michael's present. In addition, the art direction, particularly in turn-of-the-century and Depression-era Little Italy, was beautiful. I noticed all of the little store fronts and details inside the grocery store in which Vito worked and contrasted those details with the 50s-era post-modern decor in Michael's Nevada compound. It was all just very well done.

The whole movie feels like an opera, minus the singing, and I think that's why people are more inclined to call the sequel better. I call the sequel "as good as the first," because it's like comparing apples to oranges, really. The first Godfather is about moral ambiguity and how riding the fence is not the same as simply doing what's right. It's the portrait of a man and his family, as well as the study of a son's devotion to his father, at the expense of his innocence, and it's far less dark than the second. The second film is about moral degradation - how riding the fence actually leads to falling off the fence entirely and the consequences of doing so and how making bad choices can lead to a dangerously slippery slope and self-ruination. The two films taken together chronicle the spiritual fall of the son, so, for me, it's hard to separate them and compare. I like them both equally for different reasons.

This is just a cheeky aside, but have you ever noticed that the story here and the overall story in the original Star Wars films feel very similar, with the exception that Luke Skywalker, the prodigal son in the latter, doesn't choose the dark side of the Force while Michael does? Ok, that might be a stretch, but in my analysis, it's hard to deny the similarities, though George Lucas and Francis Coppola have been longtime friends.

In any event, The Godfather Part II is a powerful film, as great as its predecessor, because it's comprised of the same great elements that worked so well with the first film. Now, at some point, I'm going to break down and watch the third part, and see if it's as bad as everyone says it is. I have a feeling that they probably just waited too long to make it - we'll see what I think in the end.

Posted Tuesday, November 04, 2008 11:57 AM by pippin06 | with 0 comments