Reel Thoughts

Under discussion:

Penelope  (2008)

During these screwy mid-season television reruns and during my last free week before technical rehearsals for The Producers at the Grand Rapids Civic Theater fire up, I trolled my Netflix queue for something light and frothy and simple again and happened upon Penelope, newly available instantly.  I was interested in this film because it's a fantasy, a modern fairy tale of sorts, and because it boasted an appealing ensemble cast, including Christina Ricci, James McAvoy (hello Mr. Tumnus), Catherine O'Hara, Peter Dinklage, and Reese Witherspoon.  I don't think the film received much press or garnered huge box office receipts, so I watched the film with more curiosity and fewer expectations.  I hoped for a good yarn, which I think I saw...for the most part.  Of course, I'd seen it, or a version of it, before.

Penelope (Ricci) was born under a witch's curse.  Her father's family ancestors were cruel to the witch, so she cursed the first daughter born in the lineage with an unsightly birth defect: a pig snout for a nose.  When a tabloid reporter (Dinklage) publishes a less-than-favorable story about the remarkable baby Penelope, her parents (O'Hara and Richard E. Grant) sequester her away in their mansion.  Penelope is given everything but her freedom, and her mother becomes obsessed with finding Penelope a husband, for the curse will only be broken if a man of her status will take her hand in marriage.  Though Penelope's mother tries everything, including the services of a professional matchmaker, every man runs (fast) upon their first look at Penelope's unusual face, except one.  Max (McAvoy) agrees, on behalf of Dinklage's reporter, to pose as a would-be suitor with a hidden camera in exchange for money to pay his mounting gambling debts.  Max, however, does not expect to be taken with Penelope's sprightly personality and intelligent charms, and he runs before his financial plans come to fruition, not at the sight of the infamous nose but in an effort to stave Penelope's eventual broken heart.  Since he fails to explain himself, his actions result in the very effect he hoped to avoid, and broken hearted as she is with Max being her last hope, Penelope throws caution to the wind and runs away from home, prepared to strike it out on her own and to declare her independence, pig-snout nose and all.  She finds and befriends delivery girl Annie (Witherspoon), who agrees to help Penelope find herself, while Penelope's parents frantically search for their elusive daughter, and the media dissects Penelope's famous looks and life-changing exploits.

Penelope is a story to which anyone familiar with fairy tales has already been exposed.  In this case, the title character, simply, is not a duckling.  She's not a pig either, but the thrust of the story follows through to the same type of Ugly Duckling-turned-swan conclusion.  Penelope is searching for self-acceptance and achieves what she's always dreamed in the process.  I don't mean to spoil the ending, you can guess how her dreams coming true might manifest, but the last frames are painfully predictable and could be easily guessed by reading the plot synopses on this page.

Because the story is so recycled and the conclusion not much of a surprise, I tried to enjoy the journey.  To its credit, Penelope is visually a pretty little picture.  The title character develops a love of horticulture, and her home and bedroom are decorated with beautiful flora and fauna.  Her love of green also transcends into her navigation of the abstract urban environment to which she eventually flees.  As a result, the art direction in this movie is truly charming, and the city of no name takes on a magically surreal character all on its own as it is accentuated with bright colors and a mixture of antique and modern-looking pieces to emphasize the fantasy-flavor of this story.

In addition, though the tale is familiar, the tone and discourse remain adult; this is not a kid's movie by any stretch.  A previous reviewer compared this film to Big Fish, and I think the comparison is fair.  The lesson of self-acceptance offers many parallels to themes that affect adults, including thoughts about destiny, shame, love, superficiality, inspiration, regret, and other resonant subjects.  The dialogue is occasionally stunted but never patronizing, and the ending, even if predictable, is not trite nor panders to the viewer.  This quality makes the film somewhat charming despite its predictability and other flaws.

For example, the movie falters in its performances, editing, and direction.  The film is short, but the pacing is awkward, so much so that the moments with comedic potential never fully realized that potential because the timing was awkward and seemingly clipped.  The character portrayals by every actor but Dinklage and McAvoy felt over-the-top in a way that alienated me a bit, and while the story itself was charming (if renovated for this film), the dialogue was uninspired and simplistic, almost undermining the non-patronizing, more adult tone of the piece.  O'Hara is such a gifted and funny actress, a Christopher Guest favorite, and one of the saving graces of several films, and yet, her performance was slightly annoying in this film.  Whether she was written, directed or chose to perform it that way, I can't guess, but her hysterical mother felt as recycled as the plot, channeling the frantic mother she played in Home Alone.  Also, for some reason, I found it extremely hard to suspend disbelief while watching Ricci as the title character.  She's always been attracted to dark characters with unusual attributes, and maybe because Penelope is not quite so dark,even if unusual, it was hard for me to forget that I was watching Christina Ricci with a porcine nose.  Yet, her character's alleged charms were lost on me because I felt her performance was a bit heavy-handed and caricaturish.

Despite these opinions, that's not to say I didn't enjoy the film.  For me, watching Penelope reminded me of sipping International Foods coffees and nibbling on Pepperidge Farm cookies.  Pleasant, rich in spirit, even a fine effort, but something that ultmately grows old with too many sips or nibbles.  I feel Penelope merits a 6.5 on the ratings scale between cute but mediocre and shaky but entertaining, the half point owing to the amazing visual presence of the film, but the 6 reflective of my opinion on its recycled story and other lackluster ingredients.  As to the test, I can't see it passing.  There are many other incarnations of this fable that I have enjoyed more, and while Penelope is innocuous and pleasant, I can't see watching Penelope's transformation more than once.  With its uplifting but simple maturity, though, others might enjoy this movie more than me. 

Under discussion:

The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things  (2006)

This is a Spout Mavens review (#2).  For more information, read here.

This film is based on a memoir by J. T. LeRoy.  Except that J. T. LeRoy was discovered to be a pen name for writer Laura Albert, and the book billed as a memoir was actually an elaborately written hoax (complete with a public persona posing as transsexual LeRoy), and Asia Argento directed and starred in the adaptation of the hoax to screen.  Asia plays Sarah, an unstable, single mother, who appears to derive her income from prostitution and who gave up her child, Jeremiah (initially played by Jimmy Bennett), to foster care.  The film opens as Jeremiah is being dropped off to his mother by his foster parents, as he cries and pleads for them not to do so.  Jeremiah has grown to love his foster parents, and Sarah is nothing but a stranger to him.  While Jeremiah rails against his mother's would-be affections, she essentially emotionally abuses him into trusting her, telling him that his foster parents never loved him, and that she'll torture him if he runs away.  Scared into submission, Jeremiah quietly accepts his new circumstances.  All the while, Sarah feeds her young child drugs and exposes him to a revolving door of step-fathers and quasi-serious boyfriends.  The first in the string molests Jeremiah when Sarah runs out on him during their honeymoon, and he leaves Jeremiah for dead, until authorities find him, nurse him to health, and remand him to the custody of his grandparents (his grandfather is played by Peter Fonda).  Except that they are fundamentalist Christian, particularly strict, and engage in corporal punishment bordering on abuse for the slightest of infractions.  Though Jeremiah (now played by Dylan and Cole Sprouse) adjusts to this new home life, being the most stable since his foster home, Sarah finds him and kidnaps him, taking him with her and her new husband in their semi-truck while she strips to make money.  Sarah also takes pleasure in dressing young Jeremiah in girl's clothing, which invites more abuse on the part of a later boyfriend (played by Marilyn Manson - without makeup!).  As Jeremiah struggles to make sense of his ever-changing and endangering circumstances, Sarah's mental instability at the hands of drugs and sexual disease deteriorates, and Jeremiah is left to fend for himself and his mother when faced with the prospect of having nowhere else to go.

I watched this film a week ago, struggling for the wherewithal to write a non-biased review, but no matter how I attempt to analyze this film, I find that I am unable to take off the Jill Q. Viewer hat and evaluate this film on its artistic merit.  The film was graphic and depicted subjects that unsettled, to be sure, and what I struggled with upon completion of the film is what the point of it all was.

I am not familiar with Asia Argento's career, so I can't fathom what drew her to this work, unless she was not aware it was a hoax.  Even if she thought it was real, I'm trying to figure out what compelled her to film this story, which is riddled with flaws (hoax or not).  Some might argue that the underlying theme is the unbreakable bond between mother and son, but this claim is problematic on many levels.  If the fictional memoir was literally adapted, Sarah wins her son's love by preying on his fear and abusing him, not only physically (through the introduction of drugs and the administration of corporal punishment by her boyfriends) but mentally and emotionally.  The character uses emotional blackmail to gain her son's fealty, and given that he's only 7 to start, he has no weapons to combat this trauma.

So, perhaps the film is designed to expose the weaknesses in the child welfare system and the foster care system.  After all, how would Sarah regain custody of her son from his stable foster home unless she pulled the wool over the heads of social services?  She clearly has shown no evolution or reformation toward a lifestyle that would be stable for her son.  She repeats over and over again that she "fought for" him, and that he can't leave her, because she has no one else...and yet, we're provided no reasons or background information as to how she arrived at this point, making these assertions.  We know she came from an austere, religious background, and that her appetites seemed to surpass the limits imposed by her totalitarian parents.  We can assume that she ran away to quell those appetites, but we're given no backstory as to how this mother arrived at this juncture in her life, with her deteriorating mental state, addictions to sex and drugs, or even how she came about Jeremiah to begin with.  Though the film is focused on Jeremiah's perspective, and his constant loyalty breaks the viewers' hearts only because he's too young to know any better or know how to extract himself from these circumstances, it would help to understand more of the journey and why Jeremiah is dealt the lot he is to know more about the mother.  Even if the explanation fails to satisfy, at least an explanation would be offered, whereas the current tale provides none.

To her credit, Argento and partnering cinematographers infuse the film with a hip, pop-art sensibility, washing frames in gritty hues punctuated by bright colors to accentuate the surreality of Jeremiah's circumstances.  Camera perspectives are employed creatively, using off-kilter or overhead shots in unexpected places to emphasize the skew of this poor boy's life.  The soundtrack was supplied by Sonic Youth, Billy Corgan, and other progressive-rock contributors, and there are sneaky cameos by people like Winona Ryder.  Yet, in some ways, these edgy and creative elements aid the film in glorifying the subject matter, which, hoax or not, provides little to consider other than the fact that the visuals themselves are graphic and disturbing, and that the story, what there is of it, seems to have no purpose other than to be disturbing for disturbing's sake.

Also, the performances are largely awkward and disjointed, provided as they are by strings of B-actors (or non-actors, as it were). The most believable and heartbreaking performance belongs to Jimmy Bennett as the younger version of Jeremiah, portraying the most visceral and gut-wrenching of emotions and states of mind, both sober and drug-induced.  It was his convincing and mature portrayal that makes the rest of the film both marginally worthwhile and repugnant all at the same time.

In the end, I did not really enjoy The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things because the film itself is deceptive.  It wants to be a piece of in-your-face art, striving to challenge the viewer to find the diamond(s) in the rough of its painful story.  Yet, the story as a story is deeply flawed, the heartstring-tugging and painful childhood is based on a fiction that does not deserve to be sensationalized, and the art itself is inconsistent and does nothing to redeem the film or reward the viewer for sitting through it.  Also, while it seems to want to paint the picture of the undying bond between mother and son, it fails to do so in any emotionally resonant way, at least for this viewer, who remembered how the bond was formed to begin with.  All in all, I think the film deserves a 4.5 on the ratings scale, between fair/nice idea that wasn't pulled off and utterly mediocre.  I could be biased because of the material, but since the material forms the basis of the entire piece, and since the rest of the piece is creative but unsatisfying in every way, I think the rating, scathing though it is, is anything but deceptive of how this viewer perceived this film.

Under discussion:

A Clockwork Orange  (1971)

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

A Clockwork Orange is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#46)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#21)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Alex De Large is the #12 villain)
The Revised Top 100 (#70)
10 Top 10's (#4 Science Fiction)

I watched A Clockwork Orange instantly on Netflix using the little TV streaming device offered by that service, which I bought to accompany my new large-screen TV.  The whole experience was thrilling - watching a crazy, eye-poppingly colored film in high definition for the first time!  Of course, I digress.  I had intended to read the novel on which the film is based, written by Anthony Burgess, first, but, sadly, reading books nowadays for me has taken a back seat to other free-time activities, such as consuming films.  As such, I had no idea what to expect again, though I knew from hearsay about the film that it was one big long strain of weird.  So, if anything, I expected to be treated to weird on my new TV, in large, crystal clear detail.  In that, I was not disappointed.

A Clockwork Orange was co-adapted, produced, and directed by Stanley Kubrick, marking his third and final entry on the AFI's Original list (after 2001: A Space Odyssey and Dr. Strangelove).  The central character is teenaged Londoner Alex De Large (Malcolm McDowell), who also narrates his tale.  Alex spends his days pursuing his pleasures, which include "ultraviolence," rape, and getting high (so the film implies) on milk at the local milkbar as well as music, particularly Beethoven, and enjoying these fine hedonistic pursuits with his "droogs," i.e. his fellow gang members.  After a particularly tiring night of these activities, including the beating of a writer (Patrick Magee) and Alex's rape of his wife to the crooned tune of "Singin' in the Rain," his pals decide that Alex isn't shooting high or far enough and begin to assert their displeasure on the subject.  Fearing a hostile takeover, Alex turns some of his skill for violence on his friends, which quells them for a time; however, when Alex ultimately murders a Cat Lady (Miriam Karlin) with one of her phallic scupltures (in this case, an exact replica of the phallis), his droogs leave him for the authorities to find.  Alex is then imprisoned and sentenced to 14 years.  After some time in the big house, Alex becomes aware of an experimental procedure called Ludovico behavioral modification, which is being touted by the new political regime in England as the way to solve the crime problem.  The procedure essentially works to drug Alex up into feeling physically ill while he is exposed to violent and hypersexual imagery - though it also has the unintended side effect of averting him to his beloved Beethoven when the composer's esteemed Ninth Symphony is played in the background of one of the films.  The procedure is also a grand success; Alex is conditioned against violence, rape, and the Ninth, and he is released into the world.  The trouble is, he no longer has any defenses, and his prior victims, including his family and the writer, victimize him in vengeance, apathy, or fear.  When Alex involuntarily stumbles upon the writer's home, cold and alone one night, the writer realizes who he is (after Alex starts singing "Singin' in the Rain" in the bath) and finds out about his aversion to the Ninth.  When Alex takes extreme measure to avoid the excruciating physical response the symphony invokes, the media sensationalizes it, and the poltical order intervenes once again in an effort to save face.

When I first began watching A Clockwork Orange, I wasn't sure I was going to like it all that much.  For starters, the film could easily be subtitled "Kubrick's ode to the phallis."  The costumes of Alex and his droogs feature prominently placed rubber guards at their waists and below, which, to me, looked like external representations of what they were covering up.  The imagery with which Alex surrounded himself was hypersexual, including a statue of four Jesuses with their "members" in gold; photographs or paintings of naked women lining most interior walls, and sculptures of the same in the milkbar; his pet snake, Basil, cozying up headfirst to the painting of a woman on her back, legs open, and nothing on; and so on.  Not to mention the fact that the rape scenes (or attempted rape scenes) feature completely nude women being wrestled to a state of submission.  The images were, no doubt, intended to shock, and to establish Alex and his friends' sociopathy, and they worked, almost too well. 

In addition, the first half of the movie (aside from these images), experienced some inconsistent pacing. When the film was slower and more methodical - such as when Alex was at his home or chatting up the two ladies with whom he eventually enjoys a romp in the sack - I actually felt more inclined to doze at the same general ponts in the film on two attempts (I tried to watch a first time and then started the film over the next day for a second attempt that was more successful).

After allowing the film to play to its conclusion, however, I realized how clever the film was and how Kubrick's genius manifested yet again.  The shocking images, accentuated by bright color- orange included - and using camera lenses that rendered them almost surreal, were nothing to the commentary and shocking responses offered by the government and Alex's victims once he was a "free man." In addition, the ending was one of the most intellectually satisfying conclusions of a film that I have ever seen.  I understand that the ending of the film was quite different from the ending of Burgess' novel, so different, in fact, that the entire thrust of the film might have been changed if the book ending had been used.  As it stands, the images that Kubrick created with the help of his art directors, cinematographers, and costumers emphasized the underlying themes and social commentary no doubt offered by the novel and punctuated the film ending to give it a haunting quality.  The film sticks with me, almost 24 hours later, because of it.

Malcolm McDowell's performance was amazing.  I can't believe this guy is sometmes Linderman on the TV show Heroes.  Thirty-five years ago, he made the anti-hero and sociopath Alex De Large charismatic and occasionally sympathetic, particularly after he undergoes his treatment.  After being subjected to another beating by his erstwhile droogs, now police officers, and the revenge of the writer, the viewer almost wants him to cast off his conditioning and retaliate the way he used to do, which is a troubling reaction to invoke from the viewer and powerfully elicited by McDowell's eerie ability to switch from full-on, coldly calculating madman to somewhat helpless and forlorn outcast.  The false eyelashes he wears over one eye when he's gallivanting around London are iconic and used to creepy effect by McDowell's more unsettling facial expressions.

Still, I wouldn't call this film Kubrick's masterpiece by any stretch, as fantastic and creative as it turned out to be.  The dystopian future of A Clockwork Orange looked similar to the idyllic future of 2001, at least in its furniture, and the fact that Kubrick, again, underscored the film with predominantly classical works (and this is apart from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony) was not lost on me.  Also, the prominently placed soundtrack album of 2001 in the record store scene did not help, and I immediately reacted to that image, feeling it was more a mark of Kubrick's ego than a clever nod to a film gone by.  Additionally, as I mentioned, the pacing of this film was surprisingly inconsistent, though it settled into a more deliberate and even pace in the second half.  Furthermore, though I understand why the images were used, I'm not sure that, at least, the scene in which the rival gang attempts the rape of a woman prior to Alex's gang entering the scene, and the ensuing brawl, was entirely necessary or serviced the story, except to show the rampant decay and widespread violence or lack of maturity on the part of youth in society.  Other violent crimes could have been used, particularly given the scene with the writer's wife so close in chronology, to show the same point.  Granted, I'm no Stanley Kubrick, but some of the images included for their shock value crossed a few lines for me and, possibly, for the AFI.  This film tumbled 24 spots on the Revised list. 

In the end, however, I enjoyed A Clockwork Orange on an intellectual level, as it translated the novel's apparent commentary on morality, freedom, choice, behavioral modification, the media, and the political machine to film quite effectively and in an appreciably clever manner.  It was powerful and disturbing, though sometimes too disturbing.  Due to this quality, the film does not pass the test.  I feel as though watching it once suits me just fine, and now, I'd much rather go back and read the novel, which apparently utilizes the funny slang Burgess invented (and the film used to an extent) more prominently.  In doing so, I could revisit the messages and see how the book's ending affects the story.  As to ratings, I feel A Clockwork Orange deserves an 8 for having minor flaws but being very good.  I would also offer a warning to would-be watchers: if you don't like watching films with graphic sex and violence, avoid this film at all costs.  Its artistic value aside, A Clockwork Orange would not be palatable for a lot of people, and I don't know if its initial X-rating stands today, but I can see why the film was given it, and this is not a film I can make a case for seeing anyway in defense of Kubrick's artistry.  If you're looking to explore Kubrick's films, I think you can get a fine sampling from his filmography, give this one a pass, and still be alright.  In satire, which A Clockwork Orange ultimately becomes, Dr. Strangelove is a superior film and has no graphically objectionable imagery.  As for me, 2001 is still my reigning favorite, and though he cheekily referred to that film in this one, he did so with good reason - I think that film's his masterpiece even if this film offered a darkly fantastic message that was as satisfying as it was unsettling.