Reel Thoughts

Revisiting An American in Paris for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 21:39:58 GMT

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

An American in Paris is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#68)
100 Years...100 Passions (#39)
100 Greatest Film Songs (#32 - "I Got Rhythm")
25 Greatest Movie Musicals (#9)

I initially watched An American in Paris when I was attempting to complete this original AFI list the first time, back in college. I remembered liking it, if not exactly loving it, because for a couple of semesters, I played violin (second) in the Michigan Pops Orchestra at the University of Michigan, and one of our concerts was Gershwin-themed. The actual American in Paris piece, which is the foundation of the finale ballet at the end of this film, was the Orchestra’s piece de resistance after cycling through numbers like Rhapsody in Blue, excerpts from Porgy and Bess, and other goodies. I remember relating to the film for that reason but not ultimately loving it because the ending was so abrupt. A decade later, after revisiting the film instantly on Netflix, my opinion has not changed much. An American in Paris is fun and beautiful in many ways, even as its story and story execution falter, movie musical or no.

The inimitable Gene Kelly plays Jerry Mulligan, the American referred to in the title. He is a painter attempting to make his way in the world's artistic center, Paris. Poor and struggling though he may be, he remains affable in the face of just about everything, including self-important art students imported from various countries willing to dissect his every technique, until a rich socialite named Milo Roberts (Nina Foch) discovers him and his wares and offers to be his lady patron in more ways than one. Jerry is distracted from Milo's overbearing affections by the cherubic face of Lise Bouvier (Leslie Caron), and, letting no obstacle like a wealthy coquette stand in his way, he actively seeks to woo Lise. Unfortunately, one very large obstacle to the consummation of their relationship is the fact that Lise is involved with Jerry's friend Henri (Georges Guetary), a nightclub performer. Of course, this story of star-crossed love is punctuated by a score of pure Gershwin and songs by brothers George and Ira as well as rousing choreography created by Mr. Kelly himself.

An American in Paris is certainly entertaining. I think Gene Kelly's footwork feels as fresh and exciting today as it surely must have when the film was released, and his dancing chemistry with Leslie Caron was charming. The music was unmistakably fantastic - after all, who can ask for anything more (ahem) than Gershwin, and the actual song and dance numbers were both beautiful and breathtaking. On the occasion that Mr. Kelly chose to sing in this film, notably during the famous "I Got Rhythm," the film becomes ethereal in its musical perfection. As a prior reviewer noted, they just don't make 'em like they used to...

Still, An American in Paris, as well-staged and beautifully and artfully directed by Vicente Minnelli and his collaborators as it was, offering a delightful visual feast with entertaining and toe-tapping musical interludes, is noticeably inferior to Mr. Kelly's next project, Singin' in the Rain. While Singin' was also a hodgepodge and mishmash of old standards, strung together for the sake of the musical plot, the fact that Singin' had a plot and one that rings true for the ages makes it far better (and far more deserving of its accolades) than this film, which by all rights should be just as good. Paris portrays a simple romance in the vein of all great romances but does so in such a staccato way, the expert singing and dancing doesn't quite make up for the lack of story. The ending is especially disappointing - it seemingly comes from nowhere following the spectacular finale ballet choreographed against backdrops inspired by famous artists. In fact, the film might have made a wonderful avant garde piece if no words were spoken or sung at all. If the eighteen-minute final dance could have been turned into something feature-length, stretched over the Gershwin medley already employed, it might have been a spectacular live-action equivalent of Fantasia but set against this romance and romantic backdrop of Paris. Instead, it feels like a run-of-the-mill movie musical with some elements of excellence, such as Gene Kelly's, and to a lesser extent, Leslie Caron's dancing; the vividly colored art and set direction and the artistic touch of focusing the ballet on famed Parisian paintings; and the incomparable Gershwin score.

In point of fact, Mr. Guetary sang more of the songs than Mr. Kelly, and that detracted from the film in my book. He had one of those traditional, tinny voices obscured by his thick French accent, and none of the numbers he sang were quite as exciting as the songs sung by Gene Kelly. Fortunately, many of his solos featured Kelly dancing in the foreground, so it was easy to ignore the voice and concentrate on the fancy footwork.

I'm not saying An American in Paris is a bad film - quite the contrary. As a purely audio-visual piece of art that also manages to celebrate art, it's vivacious, graceful, and charming. Yet, it's by no means perfect; the lack of story is one such imperfection and a hurdle that those focused on story will have to get beyond in order to enjoy this film. As for me, I reveled in everything Gene Kelly in this picture; he is one of my favorites, after all, though Singin' in the Rain will always be my absolute favorite of his vehicles. I suppose it comes as no surprise, then, that I am inclined to rate this film a 7 for being shaky but entertaining (it practically screams this rating!). As to the test, it does not pass. As much as I love movie musicals, this is not one I can see owning and watching repeatedly (though this might change if I have the opportunity to work on An American in Paris for the stage, if such a version exists). It's noteworthy that this film, again, did not make the AFI's Revised greatest list, instead being replaced by Unforgiven (which climbed 30 spots from its original ranking). This is one of the few instances in which I actually agree with the fact of the film being replaced on the new list--though the jury's out on whether the replacement was a worthy successor.

Viewing Norma Rae for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 23:11:39 GMT

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

Norma Rae is on the following AFI lists:

100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Norma Rae Webster is the #15 hero)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#16)

This film also represents the fifth of nine Oscar-nominated dramas topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

Sally Field has always been one of those actresses that I enjoy watching in film (and even on TV, at least in Gidget). She may not be my favorite actress or even, necessarily, the most memorable one, but I have yet to see a bad film with her in it or, at least, a bad performance by her. I think I queued Norma Rae up because she has always been so consistent and because I knew this film was on the AFI lists it was on but also because I knew that the film would be enjoyable, good, even if not necessarily memorable. That is, after all, the kind of career and choices Ms. Field has elected and developed for herself over the decades. To wit, these were not baseless suppositions. Norma Rae was enjoyable because Field was enjoyable in it.

Field plays Norma Rae Webster, a character based upon a real-life heroine who fought to introduce a union into the southern cotton mill that proved to be the cornerstone employer of her small town and also exploited its workers to the point that it affected the health of her family and friends and took an incredible toll on their well-being. After listening to a speech by a New York union organizer named Reuben (Ron Leibman), Norma Rae decides to join his cause at the expense of her relationships with her parents, children, and new husband Sonny (Beau Bridges), who believes that his wife's activism and participation in these activities is really due to romantic interest in Reuben. Despite pressure and, frankly, outrageous tactics on the part of mill management, Norma Rae eventually orchestrates a successful shutdown of the mill and momentum for her cause, until an election for or against the union's existence in the mill is held.

This movie, as I earlier stated, was enjoyable due to a spunky and heartfelt performance by Sally Field as the title character. The story and screenplay in this film made much of the big city union organizer navigating through a sea of ignorant country bumpkins, which might have potentially been offensive in its particular execution. Yet, the fact that Field and Norma Rae had an openness about them that fueled their passion - in the story and in the performance - as much as it expanded the cause made her character relatable and endearing and the story engaging, even if a bit simplistic and predictable, all told.

The supporting performances were also good, particularly by Leibman. While some may regard this film as decidedly one-sided (pro-union) and may want to ascribe biases either way, the fact that he made his union organizer genteel and sophisticated if ultimately human and somewhat stereotypical made his character a perfect match for Norma Rae's feisty southern charms. Their relationship, though clearly filled with affection, was also a caring and equal friendship that transformed into the heart and soul of the story.

Coupled with the folksy song "It Goes Like It Goes" by Jennifer Warnes, Norma Rae, while no cinematic masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination and fairly ordinary in its execution, still managed to tell a convincing, heartwarming, and inspirational story about one woman's struggle to fight injustice without being manipulative or pandering too far one way or another. Furthermore, the ending was perfect, even if partially foregone. I guess what I'm saying is, there are worse ways to spend two hours of quality film-viewing time, and at least Norma Rae is one of those feel-good films with a universally applied message.

All in all, I liked Norma Rae. I shook my fist at those mean management types and threw my arms up in cheer of Norma Rae's tenacity. When I finished the film, I knew it would merit an 8 on the patented ratings scale for being very good but with minor flaws (considering the story slant). As to test, I don't think that it necessarily passes because it may not hold up to repeat viewings (or desire for such), but it's not to say that this film isn't worth its watch at least on one occasion. It is as inspiring as the AFI ranked it with an honest to goodness heroine that deserves her cheers and, as a character study, makes for a good story in general.

Viewing The Manchurian Candidate for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 04:27:19 GMT

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 Manchurian Candidate is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#67)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#17)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Mrs. John Iselin is the #21 villain)

This is a film that I have been looking forward to watching for quite a while now. After all, the plot summary alone is intriguing, but then, the film received a high-profile remake treatment featuring the likes of Denzel Washington and Meryl Streep. I swore off the remake (even as the previews tantalized and teased me) in favor of the original because I knew it was on my AFI lists and because, from everything I've ever read or been told, the original far surpasses its successor. I'm happy to say, my anticipation was well rewarded because this is one of the best films I've ever seen, i think, or it's at least the best film I've seen in awhile. Also, the film, like Network, is unusually prophetic, even if the entire plot arises from Cold War paranoia that no longer exists - at least not in the same shape and form.

The film's beginning is confusing because the viewer is given a few misdirections in order to hide highly satisfying twists and turns that pop up as the picture progresses, so I'm probably going to rely on the Spout page's plot summary a bit more than normal. As the film opens, American soldiers in the Korean War are in a bar, enjoying a little R & R, before their commanding officer, Sergeant Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey), comes in and orders them back on duty. It's clear from their begrudging acquiescence that the soldiers have no love for their CO, but they follow him on patrol anyway, where they are ambushed and taken by Korean troops. The film then flashes to months into the future. Shaw has received the Congressional Medal of Honor, and all of his former platoon call him "the bravest, finest, and most lovable man I've ever met." It becomes clear, particularly to Captain Bennett Marco (Frank Sinatra), that the men underwent brainwashing and thought control at the hands of their captors. Some experience nightmares and visions, others behave erratically, but Marco can't seem to shake the feeling that the dreams and behaviors he is exhibiting aren't his own. Through petitions to his own commanding officers and investigatory arms in the military, he begins to piece together clues that lead him to conclude that Shaw was programmed by a Chinese and Russian coalition who have turned him into an indiscriminate killing machine, able to assassinate anyone on command and then forget his actions later. While Shaw contends with blackouts related to this programming, he is also harangued and used for political gain by his highly ambitious, uncompromising and seemingly unfeeling mother (Angela Lansbury), the puppetmaster behind her husband, John Iselin's (James Gregory), congressional career. He's vying for the vice presidential nomination fueled by his wife's carefully orchestrated anti-Communist hysteria. Shaw, in the meantime, spends his time attempting to separate himself from her unrelenting claws, even as Marco befriends him in an effort to find the source of the conspiracy that led to their capture.

I loved this film. What a picture to be made in 1962, when the country was still in the throes of pearl necklaces and white picket fences and apron strings and Father Knows Best, before Kennedy was assassinated and the Vietnam War. True, the film's plot, which was based on a novel, is rooted in something that has long since faded into memory, but echoes of the anti-Communist agenda ring as true now as they once did, with today's focus being on terrorism and the nameless jihad directed toward the western world.

This film works on every level because it is smart, savvy, foresighted, and poignant. It's intense; the paranoic tone is perpetuated throughout the film thanks to the on-point direction of John Frankenheimer and the against-type performances of Frankie and Murder, She Wrote. I have never seen a film where Angela Lansbury plays the villain, and I'm not sure I ever want to again! What a vile, odious woman she played, so far removed from Bedknobs and Broomsticks and Mrs. Potts and other Disney-approved creations. Her performance more than earns her spot on the Heroes and Villains list because her snake-like character comes out of nowhere and has more layers than a casserole. While the film offers so many reasons to watch and appreciate it, Ms. Lansbury stole the show with one of the most fully-realized and complex villains to ever hit the screen.

Sinatra also gave a career-defining performance as Marco. His chemistry with Janet Leigh (who plays his random love interest; they meet on a train) was a little off, but Marco's tenacity, conflict, and determination are well-played by the erstwhile crooner. Shaw also expertly offered a layered performance of the ultimate brainwashed though innocent stooge, even if his actual character and performance were a bit theatrical at times.

The film was also directed well. The tone was consistently intense, and the pacing was consistently at the level of a slow boil that popped at just the right moments. My heart pounded at several key points when reveals, both expected and unexpected, occurred. Some of the key twists the viewer might see coming, but Frankenheimer and company make the viewer work for it and plant just the right amount of doubt, so that no conclusion is truly foregone.

The most creative segments of the film - and the most confusing - were during the Chinese/Russian coalition's demonstration of their brainwashing success. The filmmakers decided to alternately show the actual room the soldiers were in, with levels like in the United Nations only populated by representatives of major Communist countries, and a garden tea party, the vision the soldiers were duped into having as this demonstration progressed. Some of the switching back and forth grew confusing and tedious but, ultimately, the creative stroke was effective, particularly in its misdirection.

The reviews on this page call The Manchurian Candidate a satire. I don't know if I agree with that categorization, since satire usually implies a comic angle to the piece. While some black comedy might have been present in the film, I wouldn't give it any kind of overarching comedic label, because I never laughed. If the humor was there, it was based in subtle irony - more subtle and insidious than the irony found in something like Dr. Strangelove. The Manchurian Candidate is ultimately a thriller and a very well-constructed one to boot (it also deserves its ranking on the appropriate AFI list). It elicited a thumping heart on many occasions from me.

With a razor-sharp script, again prophetic as its political and social commentary transcends the year in which the film was released; consistent and expert direction; and uniformly great performances, The Manchurian Candidate is a great film. It's surprising, but the AFI chose not to add this to its Revised list, and this is one of the best films I've seen from the Original lineup, at least in this bottom half (incidentally, it was replaced by Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, which was new to the Revised list). For all these reasons and more, this film received a five-star rating from me. I also think it merits an 8.5 on the patented ratings scale between very good/minor flaws and perfectly entertaining, owing to some of the confusion brought on by the alternate realities. This is really just one flaw, and I only feel this way because it really did grow tedious (which prevents me from calling the film perfectly entertaining or better). As to the test, I may very well buy this one. It would be interesting to add the cynicism and paranoia of this film to my collection, juxtaposed with Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and all of its hopeful optimism in the face of political corruption. Incidentally, I've read the plot summary of the remake since viewing this film, and I don't feel that I can honestly bring myself to watch it, Meryl Streep or no. Is there someone who can convince me otherwise because the original was just too good?

Oscar Flashback: Gorillas in the Mist (1988)

pippin06 — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 23:47:05 GMT

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)? Read here:

Next on my Netflix queue was Gorillas in the Mist, for which Sigourney Weaver was nominated for the Best Actress Oscar; Stuart Baird was nominated for the Best Film Editing Oscar; Maurice Jarre was nominated for the Best Score Oscar; Andy Nelson, Brian Saunders, and Peter Handford were nominated for the Best Sound Oscar; and Anna Hamilton Phelan and Tab Murphy were nominated for the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar (film year, 1988; awarding year, 1989). The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Actress

The Accused - Jodie Foster (Winner)

Dangerous Liaisons - Glenn Close
Working Girl - Melanie Griffith
A Cry in the Dark - Meryl Streep

Best Film Editing

Who Framed Roger Rabbit (Winner)

Die Hard
Mississippi Burning
Rain Man

Best Score

The Milagro Beanfield War (Winner)

The Accidental Tourist
Dangerous Liaisons
Rain Man

Best Sound

Bird (Winner)

Die Hard
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
Mississippi Burning

Best Adapted Screenplay

Dangerous Liaisons (Winner)

The Accidental Tourist
Little Dorrit
The Unbearable Lightness of Being

This film also represents the fourth of nine Oscar-nominated dramas topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

I watched Gorillas in the Mist instantly (I do love my Roku). I can't remember why I cued this film up. Again, I think it was one of those film titles from the 80s that have always stuck with me but which I did not pay much attention to as a child (I would have been 10 or 11 when this movie was released). As you can see from the above nominee list, there were other important films that likely drew my attention much more quickly at that age, such as Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Nevertheless, I do like Sigourney Weaver in just about everything else I have ever seen her in, and the plot likely intrigued me enough to want to watch it, so here it is, next up for some Reel Thoughts.

The film is based on the autobiography of naturalist Dian Fossey, played by Weaver in the film. According to what I've read since watching the film (and I was keenly interested for several reasons), Fossey was mysteriously murdered in her home in Uganda just prior to the film's release, and the film itself follows Fossey's life story, beginning with her choice to petition anthropologist Louis Leakey for a position on a research project to study gorillas in the wilds of Africa. Though her work is slow-going at first, the film depicts how Fossey becomes fascinated and, arguably, obsessed with the habits and lifestyle of the gorillas, and she is able to develop a means of communication with them, even as she forms a deeply personal attachment to them. This attachment costs her a potential love-match with a National Geographic photographer (Bryan Brown) and brings her into direct conflict with poachers and the Ugandan government that supports them. The film further shows how she becomes a militant animal-rights activist, leading to some ethically compromised choices of her own.

What I liked best about this film is that it's far from manipulative or coercive in its attempts to provide a balanced account of a woman's life that ended mysteriously and amid controversy over an issue that doesn't necessarily have the widespread support one would expect. As I've indicated, I spent some time reading (through quick online research) some accounts of Fossey and her life after watching this film, and the film, surprisingly, received mixed acclaim. Much of the criticism of the film centered on the idea that the depiction of Fossey as a potentially homicidal devotee to her gorillas was inaccurate and biased, and that Fossey was a victim of political assassination in life and death as a crazy woman, attempting to force her western ideals on a less-than-advanced culture dependent upon the revenues of poaching and looking to indict Fossey in the worldwide court of public opinion. Still others felt the film undersold her devotion to these animals, from a school of thought believing that the "crazy woman" moniker wasn't developed enough, while others felt the conservationist messages were not strong enough because the film was too busy focusing on a murder mystery rather than the work of a heroic woman. I actually felt that the movie was just balanced enough to incorporate all of those views and to let the viewer decide how to accept the message(s).

In my opinion, the conservationist message rang loud and clear, and the endeavor to present a balanced portrait of a woman whose work and life choices could be interpreted in several ways, allowing time to each of the possible theories, was the most fair way to depict the life of an otherwise controversial, complex. and passionate woman. Sigourney Weaver's performance was the key to the whole picture coming together; her sensitive portrayal of this person never strayed into the deliberately outlandish. Everything from her interactions with the live (and, apparently, costumed) gorillas--quite the scene stealers themselves-- to her more impassioned outbursts, to her joy, and yes, even to the extreme devotion Fossey had for these animals was given a mesmerizing treatment by Weaver. It was her performance that kept the film from falling too far on one particular side or position of the controversy underpinning Fossey's life and her performance that kept this viewer engaged.

Because of the type of film that it is, there was some erratic pacing, and the film seemed to lose its pacing consistency about the time that the Fossey character was becoming more active in her efforts to hold her research assistants and the rest of the world at large at bay from invading her and her gorillas' territory. The film is slow and deliberate, which suits its subject, until it decides to tell the tale of Fossey's murder and the events leading up to it, which happens to be a second act switch. It's noticeable because it's hard to switch gears, but I'm not sure how director Michael Apted or the rest of the filmmakers could have improved upon that and still have maintained the balanced approach to which they obviously seemed to be aiming. In my mind, this late course-change is but a minor complaint.

Truthfully, I sort of loved this movie, and I loved it because it did deliberately straddle the line and left any conclusions to be drawn about Fossey's choices and the events of her life up to the viewer to make. Also, Weaver's performance really is the hallmark of Gorillas in the Mist and, alone, makes the film recommendable, but add to her performance the breathtaking cinematography capturing the lush African mountainsides and a moving score, and the ingredients for a very good film are all nicely combined into a delicious mixture. All in all, then, I think the film merits an 8.5 on the patented ratings scale between very good/minor flaws and perfectly entertaining (for the pacing issue). As to the test, though I loved the film, I can't see myself watching it repeatedly. I think its most powerful impact would be felt on the first viewing alone; also, as much as I loved the message and the fair autobiographical depiction, it's not the type of fare I pull out for a giggle.

As a side note (see above), 1988 was quite the year for films. This film faced some stiff competition in its categories, including films I adore, such as Roger Rabbit, Die Hard, and Rain Man. I think that says something by itself.

Viewing Network for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 16:23:17 GMT

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

Network is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#66)
100 Movie Quotes (#19 - Howard Beale: "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!")
The Revised Top 100 (#64)

Network, instantly viewed on Netflix, is one of those films that I've always vaguely heard about but never paid much attention to until reviewing the films for this project. When I read the premise and prior reviews, I was greatly intrigued but otherwise had no preconceived notions. I'll leave it at that until after offering the obligatory plot summary.

Network is a wily satire of the machinations of television. The term floated in the film is "trash TV," though the film easily makes the argument that all television is trash. For the purposes of the film and its plot, though, trash TV seems to refer to exploitative, sensationalist programming, an early wash of the genre known as "reality TV." Howard Beale (Peter Finch) is forced out of his long-standing position as veteran newsanchor at fictional network United Broadcasting Systems because the ratings show that he "skews old." Network executive and Howard's best friend, Max Schumacher (William Holden), delivers the news, but Howard can't bear the thought of losing his job for any reason, much less his age, so in his next broadcast, he announces to his viewers and, essentially, the nation that he is going to commit suicide on his final program. Frank Hackett (Robert Duvall), the corporate executive in charge of the Network, wants to oust Howard before his remaining two weeks have expired, but Programming Executive Diana Christensen (Faye Dunaway) sees an opportunity in Howard. Ambitious, driven, and in charge of bringing cutting edge programming to the network, and in lieu of all of the ensuing news and interest becoming a ratings gold mine in the wake of Howard's announcement, she convinces Frank to let Howard onto his final broadcast as a special event, with cameras poised to film whatever grisly end Howard brings to himself. Howard, on the other hand, who has begun to crack under the circus that began with his termination, fails to commit suicide; instead, he embarks upon a rambling, raving rant about the state of the world and of television and encourages the viewers to go to their windows and shout as loud as they can: "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" When people actually listen to this encouragement, Howard becomes the hottest thing on TV, and Diana becomes the Network's new "it" girl. Howard gets his own news program, where he can rant and rave to his content while bolstered with interesting segments, such as a psychic's predictions. Diana also bills Howard as the "the Mad Prophet of the Airwaves," and Max watches all of this in horror and disgust, even as he finds himself drawn into an adulterous affair with Diana. Though he is equal parts fascinated and horrified, Max temporarily leaves his wife (Beatrice Straight) for Diana, only to return to her when he realizes that Diana is television in human form. At the same time, the network owner (Ned Beatty), who admits that he relates to Howard in only the craziest of ways, convinces Howard to preach a "You can't win, so why try?" philosophy that causes the ratings roller coaster to coast down hill. Thus, the network must decide how to deal with Howard's declining trend and cut their losses, despite their investment into this new kind of programming.

That's quite a bit of plot summary, and I relied on the Spout page more than usual in my attempts to coax from memory everything that happened in Network, but truth be told, Network is a cynical, ascerbic, and visionary film that is complex in its many layers. It's all satire--barbed, pointed, sharp, and merciless--but there are so many different edges to the satire, Network almost loses track of where the barbs are aimed, and, in some ways, the film, as brilliant as it is, fails to obtain that masterpiece status because the sly bullets are being shot in six different directions at times when maybe only three or four bullets should have been shot at the same target.

The screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky is about as brilliantly written as any great screen story, and the film's focus on the Network's inner cogs was when the film was at its tightest and strongest. The fact that the film took aim at sensationalist programming, which has only become more prevalent in the 21st century, makes the film more prophetic than even the filmmakers probably knew in 1976. All of the little jokes, from sly comments made by the executives to the visual gags, to the poignant conclusion of the film, serve to take well-deserved knocks at the television industry and contempoary news broadcasts, otherwise known as the "media," and there are times when the film is laugh-out-loud funny because of the sheer irony of what is being targeted and how it is being portrayed. There are also times when the giggles arise from the squirm factor, as the film clearly broaches the line and stretches it without ever crossing it (at least - until the end, which I refuse to spoil under any circumstances).

Yet, the film lost me when it veered into the Max and Diana tryst, for several reasons. It bothered me that the only "evil" executive being given a full character wash was the only female of the bunch, the "Eve" shall we say, and the conclusion made by the Max character was that she was essentially nothing but a (five-letter word), myopically focused on her career and the ratings that define it. It also bothered me that the Max character was clearly meant to be the voice of morality and ethics, even in a reactionary way, but that he did this after making a knowingly immoral choice. It bothered me that the implication here was that Diana's character seemed to be symbolic of the alleged influence that television has on society and society has on television, and the neverending cycle it perpetuates, or so the filmmakers would have the film's viewers believe. In basic terms, the implication is that Diana is TV and Max is society, and he strays from his wife amidst the pixellated glow of excitement that Diana seems able to offer him, only to have Max realize in the end that she is two-dimensional and, therefore, not real or, further, not everything she is cracked up to be. The whole story seemed distracting to the overall satire, lacked both the comedic and dramatic punch that the rest of the film provided, and struck me as inherently sexist. I didn't even have to overanalyze the film to arrive at these visceral and instantaneous reactions.

Also, the performances were a bit of a mixed bag. Finch and Holden could not have been finer. Finch had to play a stark-raving lunatic with some semblance of relatability to a public hungry for someone or something to love, at least for the moment, and he deserved his posthumous Oscar (he passed away just before the film was released and was the only actor to have this distinction, until Heath Ledger's death in 2008). Holden had to play the only quiet, understated character in the entire piece, the voice of the "every man," and he did so with grace and believability. It was a bit odd seeing him so old too, since I've seen a great deal of his films from his heydey (he was the guy in Sunset Boulevard, Stalag 17, Sabrina, and others, to name a few).

Faye Dunaway gave a great performance, and her trademark theatrics served this character well. She was depicted to be the most unlikeable of the bunch, and yet, she gave the character some charm and occasional emotion making her more three-dimensional, at least at the outset, than she was allowed to be in the end.

Still, other performances left something to be desired. Many of the characters shouted everything, bringing new definition to the phrase "on the air." Why Duvall and Frank Hackett had to yell everything under the sun was beyond me - I guess because all executives are blow-hards who cannot seem to control the volume of their own voice. Most of the supporting characters, such as the people in the recording room, were a bit ham-fisted and forced. There seemed to be many loose threads in all of the different scenarios that were not completely sewn together by director Sidney Lumet.

Still, to say the film was ahead of its time would be an understatement. If the film had focused entirely on the progression of Beale without taking the side trip into Max and Diana's particular love affair, I probably would have loved it. I may even have thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread, or at least since Star Wars (that I've seen - remember, in the order that I've seen them). Since their tryst had little effect on the overall story other than to provide a deeper, slightly esoteric commentary on television as a whole in comparison to the chides hurled by the rest of the picture at a certain type of programming, I feel justified in rating the film a 7.5 on the patented ratings scale, between minor flaws/very good and shaky/entertaining, since the flaws I described seem to me to be more than minor even as the film was still very entertaining. As to the test, Network does not pass, owing in large part to this offshoot of the storytelling. I was kind of offended by it, truly, even as the rest of the film and all of its ingredients (right down to the clever insertions of "television" music that served to be the only scoring of the film) struck me as brilliantly constructed bits of foreshadowing to what would become true eventualities. In any event, Network is nothing short of in-your-face and is recommendable as long as the potential viewer remembers that nothing in the television world is safe from this picture (nor are some elements from outside that world).

Viewing Out of Africa for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Sat, 03 Oct 2009 18:12:29 GMT

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

Out of Africa is on the following AFI lists:

100 Years...100 Passions (#13)
25 Film Scores (#15)

This film also represents the third of nine Oscar-nominated dramas topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

Out of Africa is one of those movies that I've heard about ever since its release in the mid-80s but never paid much attention to; after all, I was a child at the time and much more mesmerized by contemporary films like Back to the Future. Still, as I've gained years of age, I've also gained a growing appreciation for one of my favorite actresses, Meryl Streep, and I've made it something of a mission to cover more of her filmography. Thus, when Netflix was making its convenient recommendations to me, I popped Out of Africa on my queue.

As it turns out, Out of Africa is based on the writings and short stories of Danish author Isak Dinesen, the pen name of Karen Blixen-Flecke. The film begins in the early 20th century, as Karen proposes to her friend, Baron Bor Blixen-Flecke (Klaus Maria Brandauer), that they tie the knot absent other better offers. Bor agrees but cautions that he has plans to purchase a plantation in Africa. Karen marries him with this understanding, and the two set out for Nairobi; however, upon arrival, Bor immediately leaves Karen for alleged business only to return to his womanizing ways, while Karen finds herself the governess of a plantation for coffee that cannot feasibly be grown in the arid African air. She spends her days teaching the local villagers employed (enslaved?) on her plantation in a school she sets up for them and hosting visitors, including a charming and educated hunter named Denys Finch-Hatton (Robert Redford, who is supposed to be British). The pair's natural chemistry simmers into love, but Denys wants a no-strings, open relationship. While Karen is typically independent and self-sufficient, she also finds that she has become unhappily dedicated to an aloof man who feels deeply but places a higher priority on his freedom to come and go. Karen must, thus, decide how to handle this relationship, lest she lose Denys completely.

Directed by Sydney Pollack, Out of Africa is a visually striking and beautiful film. The cinematography and photography (which won one of seven Oscars), best appreciated in a widescreen presentation, is truly captivating, using the natural wilderness as a springboard for creating a romance of epic quality. In fact, this is one of the three most winning qualities of this film: the fact that it's simply beautiful to see, and that Pollack and company capitalized on the sunny climate and on-location extras, such as lions, to truly drive home the strangeness and surreality of Karen's particular situation.

The second winning quality is the beautiful score by John Barry, which the AFI saw fit to rank as one the 25 best American film scores in history. The rich and epic string-heavy themes are noticeable from the first frames and the first notes; it's one of those scores that could stand on its own, played by a large symphony as a purely instrumental presentation, but also delicately dramatizes the unfolding romance.

The final winning quality is the performance of Meryl Streep who, let's face it, has the ability to make any film better for having her in it. She's given so many otherworldly performances, and the reason Out of Africa is half as likeable as it is comes down to Meryl's uncanny and unmatched ability to completely become her character. Given everything from her consistent and realistic Danish accent to her facial instructions depicting a strong and principled woman who finds herself emotionally susceptible to an unpredictable romance, it's hard to argue that she's given a better performance (or, perhaps, all of her performances are simply great). Without her, Out of Africa would simply have become a long, boring film with no heart, soul, or feeling.

Of course, conversely, Out of Africa was still largely a long, boring movie. For all of its winning qualities, it also has some elements which truly detracted from the film and prevented me from loving it. The sheer protracted nature of the story is its primary stumbling point; at nearly three hours' length, painstakingly recreating Dinesen's memoirs translated into a plodding biographical film. While I typically find myself a proponent of an accurate adaptation, this film would probably have benefitted from some artistic editing because Karen's story is not sympathetic unless completely zeroed in on the tensions between her real-life husband and her real-life paramour. The occasional diversions into Karen's life, while designed to create sympathy for what becomes an adulterous love affair, served to drag out the film and were not necessarily engaging, which, in turn, made the actual romance of the film less engaging.

The second element that made Out of Africa awkwardly less than adored was the casting of Robert Redford. He's an amazing actor, and he had some chemistry with Streep, no doubt attributable to an off-set friendship that provided a certain level of ease and comfort between the two leads. Unfortunately, his presence almost always felt out-of-place. Also, the character he was playing was supposed to be British, and while the page notes that criticism of the film centered on the fact that Redford was - and played - too American, it's not an unfounded criticism. His cowboy-like demeanor, reminiscient of his performance in The Electric Horseman, didn't seem to fit the rest of the picture. Also, the actual chemistry was limited at best; the AFI rated this film high on its love stories list, but, for me, it left something to be desired because I did not necessarily believe the romance between Karen and Denys and never actually cared about it, at least not until the surprise ending, and then, the concern came more from tragedy than from any attachment to the romance.

All in all, Out of Africa was a decent film; it won many Oscars, was beautifully shot, and was a great performance showcase for Meryl Streep, but it was not the most entertaining film. Interestingly, the other four nominees for Best Picture in 1985 were The Color Purple, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Prizzi's Honor, and Witness, so 1985 was quite a year, and I've seen two of those other films and enjoyed them more than this one. I suppose that's neither here nor there, but, as a result, I find myself wanting to rate Out of Africa a 7 for being shaky but entertaining, and the entertaining quality I'm ascribing solely to Meryl Streep. If someone less apt had been in the role, this film would have been an epic disaster in my mind, beautiful photography or no. As to the test, I can safely say it does not pass, for the simple fact that it took me a couple of tries to get through it a first time. If you enjoy a protracted, smoldering love story with few distractions in the historical backdrop, Out of Africa is for you. As for me, again, I find myself thinking that films like Gone with the Wind or even Doctor Zhivago are better films, have more interesting background stories, and set the standard higher and first, which Out of Africa did not quite meet.

Revisiting The Silence of the Lambs for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 01:19:51 GMT

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 Silence of the Lambs is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#65)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#5)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Dr. Hannibal Lecter is the #1 villain, and Clarice Starling is the #6 hero)
100 Movie Quotes (#21 - Dr. Hannibal Lecter: "A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.")
The Revised Top 100 (#74)

Because I've seen The Silence of the Lambs a fair few times, I secured a copy the old-fashioned way by finding someone who owned it rather than using a Netflix rental on it. With better timing, I could have tried to locate it on cable, since it sees ample rotation, albeit edited for language and content. The Silence of the Lambs is, without question, a modern classic. Even those who have not seen the film can discern the many pop culture references to it, including iconic images of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) in his restraints or his creepy little sound effect after suggesting that he ate a man's liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti. If it weren't for the type of film it is, I would probably love it more, but I'm not gonna lie. There is a palpably high disgust factor with this film, either in its images or suggested images, that truly prevents me from watching it too many times and also from thinking it's the greatest film in history. I am putting this out there up front, as I only rated the film four stars. I would have given it five, if the squeamish quality weren't as potent for me. It may not be the Saw movies (which I've never seen, naturally, either), but cannibalism and serial murder should not be taken lightly.

The Silence of the Lambs is a complex and intelligent thriller that is one of only three films and the most recent film in history to win the major five Academy awards (Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, Screenplay). In addition, as this page notes, Hopkins won the Actor award for some of the most electrifying 16 minutes of screen time in all of cinema. Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is a top-honors FBI trainee. Her talent for profiling serial killers catches the attention of her superior, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn), who wants Clarice to interview Dr. Lecter. Though in an asylum for serial cannibalism and other gross acts of murder, he is also a brilliant psychologist, and the FBI is investigating a string of serial murders by recently labeled Buffalo Bill, who targets young, curvaceous women and cuts away parts of their bodies as trophies. Crawford wants Clarice to perform this interview because she is an attractive woman, which he believes might entice Dr. Lecter to provide his psychlogical insight into and clues to the Buffalo Bill case. As it turns out, Dr. Lecter actually knows something about Bill, but he will not share information until he gets his own way: a more comfortable facility away from his current warden (Anthony Heald) and an in-depth conversation with Clarice about her past. Clarice reluctantly consents, but Dr. Lecter is a master at getting inside his subjects' heads. He manipulates her cooperation and forces her to reveal childhood traumas at the expense of her forced position of strength as a woman in a male-dominated profession and all at a jarring parallel with the progression of Bill's murders and the FBI's time-sensitive scramble to figure out his true identity.

The Silence of the Lambs is a taut and satisfying thriller that provides all sorts of goosebumps (its high position on the AFI Thrillers list and, in fact, on all of the AFI rankings is well earned). The goosebumps come from one man and one performance - true, the adaptation of the original source novel has some underlying credit, but I doubt the words of the novel's pages could have been made so alive without the performance of Anthony Hopkins. It is his turn as Dr. Lecter that engages the viewer and sinks its teeth in without letting go. He is all at once funny, scary, tantalizing, disturbing, disgusting, and debonaire. You almost want to like him, even to pity him his stone prison and his lack of creature comforts, until he starts speaking in that cool, even, but creaky tone barely masking his obvious insanity. His affectations, his unblinking stares, his poetic descriptions of eating people all mix to formulate a disturbing picture that simulataneously steals the film even as it punctuates the movie's other events.

Jodie Foster, an accomplished actress in her own right, also gives a sympathetic performance that almost walks a fine line between professional distance and admiration if not outright obsession with her subject. Her facial expressions betray a willingness to see Dr. Lecter as a human being while, at the same time, experiencing the horror of her past traumas and the realization of his talent at probing her innermost psyche (and at the fact that he is an infamous monster). While she may not have been as charismatic as Hopkins and Hannibal, she was an excellently-cast match for Hopkins and his spooky turn as the serial killer.

The story was also great and ultimately satisfying. The denouement, while open, is quite possibly one of the most chilling endings to a film ever - but, then again, I don't watch too many horror films or graphic thrillers. The film is also expertly paced and brilliantly directed by Jonathan Demme; there are no wasted frames, and many of the simplest details seem like bone-chlling twists with the way that each scene is set up and staged. The best scenes are those between Lecter and Clarice when a pane of glass separates them in his basement corner of the asylum, as the camera interchanges between close-ups of either character's face while they interrogate each other in an inquisitive tete-a-tete.

The only flaw I see in this film is in the awkward performance behind Buffalo Bill. Granted, Buffalo Bill's existence and motivations are awkward, but the actor portraying him renders him so eccentric, he becomes far less disturbing by comparison than Dr. Lecter, even as he is committing gross acts of mutilation and stuffing moth larvae down the throats of his victims. Also, Dr. Lecter's actual knowledge of this man feels almost like a deux ex machina in the grand scheme of the story - it feels too convenient even as Dr. Lecter's hold over Clarice and manipulation of his captors is so hard-fought and carefully orchestrated. I don't know if this detail is more attributable to the novel or to the adaptation, but this whole Buffalo Bill side of the story also becomes less interesting in the big picture as a result. The scenes between Bill and his latest victim (Brooke Smith) almost feel as if they don't mesh with the rest of the film, and I don't know if Demme or the actor or both served to create such an odd caricature of a man pursuing his particular trophies. His role in the story is central; it just didn't seem as interesting or as rivetingly believable as Dr. Lecter and his psychosis, which, upon analysis, doesn't seem right.

Perhaps I'm being too nitpicky; after all, The Silence of the Lambs is undeniably a great film and something of the beginning of a tradition in the modern thriller. There are scenes that I can't watch because of the "icky" factor, too, so that may be coloring my views of the picture somewhat. Still, The Silence of the Lambs just may not be absolutely perfect either, so I feel resigned in my decision to rate the film an 8 on the patented ratings scale for having minor flaws but being very good (very very good). As to the test, it does not pass. I've seen it a handful of times, as I've stated, and more than enough to preclude having to own it. Ultimately, if being squeamish or startled doesn't deter you, The Silence of the Lambs is a wonderful film, a scary film, and the most chilling and best reason to watch it is for Anthony Hopkins and his frightening Hannibal the Cannibal.

Oscar Flashback: Howard's End (1992)

pippin06 — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 01:00:46 GMT

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)? Read here:

Next on my Netflix queue was Howard's End, which was nominated for Best Picture and for which Emma Thompson won the Best Actress Oscar; Vanessa Redgrave was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar; James Ivory was nominated for the Best Director Oscar; Ruth Prawer Jhabvala won the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar; Tony-Pierce Robers was nominated for the Best Cinematography Oscar; Ian Whittaker and Luciana Arrighi won the Best Art Direction/Set Decoration Oscar; Jenny Beaven and John Bright were nominated for the Best Costume Design Oscar; and for which Richard Robbins was nominated for the Best Original Score Oscar (film year, 1992; awarding year, 1993). The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Picture

Unforgiven (Winner)

The Crying Game
A Few Good Men
Scent of a Woman

Best Actress

Indochine - Catherine Deneuve
Lorenzo's Oil - Susan Sarandon
Love Field - Michelle Pfeiffer
Passion Fish - Mary McDonnell

Best Supporting Actress

My Cousin Vinny - Marisa Tomei (Winner)

Damage - Miranda Richardson
Enchanted April - Joan Plowright
Husbands and Wives - Judy Davis

Best Director

Unforgiven - Clint Eastwood (Winner)

The Crying Game - Neil Jordan
The Player - Robert Altman
Scent of a Woman - Martin Brest

Best Adapted Screenplay

Enchanted April
The Player
A River Runs Through It
Scent of a Woman

Best Cinematography

A River Runs Through It (Winner)

L'Amant
Hoffa
Unforgiven

Best Art Direction/Set Decoration

Bram Stoker's Dracula
Chaplin
Toys
Unforgiven

Best Costume Design

Bram Stoker's Dracula (Winner)

Enchanted April
Malcolm X
Toys

Best Original Score

Aladdin (Winner)

Basic Instinct
Chaplin
A River Runs Through It

This film also represents the second of two Oscar-nominated dramas based on classical literature and the second of nine Oscar-nominated dramas topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

Aside from being nominated for a ton of and winning a few Oscars, Howard's End always appealed to me because I love British films, I like a fair few film adaptations of classic novels (The Age of Innocence aside), and I love many of the performers in this piece, including Anthony Hopkins and the ever-engaging Emma Thompson. I knew nothing of the story, though, having never read the E.M. Forster novel on which the film is based, and this is probably my first conscious attempt at watching a Merchant-Ivory picture. Essentially, watching this film represented many things to me, and, luckily, the film was charming, even if a little on the plodding and deliberate side.

Howard's End becomes a hybrid of commentary and subtle critique of British class systems, particularly in the early 20th century. Margaret Schlegel (Thompson), a bourgeois free spirit, befriends an upper-class woman named Ruth Wilcox (Redgrave), who is gravely ill. At the same time, Margaret's sister Helen (Helena Bonham Carter), an even freer spirit, has some decidedly inappropriate relations with the eldest Wilcox son and also comes to meet Leonard Bast (Sam West - the BBC's Prince Caspian!), a working-class clerk and his Eliza Doolittle of a wife, as Helen inadvertently pilfers Mr. Bast's umbrella at a local lecture. Awkward friendships and various conflicts and indictments subsequently abound. Margaret learns that Ruth is ill, and on her deathbed, Ruth, who is quite taken with Margaret, scribbles a note as an addendum to her will, leaving her beloved estate of Howard's End to Margaret, much to the chagrin of industrial lord Henry Wilcox (Hopkins), her husband, and her children. They tear the note and bury the truth from Margaret, even as Henry's associations with her become more frequent, and he becomes enamored of her himself. In the meantime, Helen's friendship with Leonard blossoms into a sexually tense exchange of ideas and, eventually, a crusade for his livelihood after Mr. Wilcox offers the sisters bad business advice concerning Mr. Bast's current employer, which the sisters then relate to Mr. Bast, causing him to seek other, less stable employ. This attempt at undermining Mr. Bast by Mr. Wilcox begins a chain of events that ultimately results in tragedy and disgrace for Wilcox, while the Schlegel sisters stand firmly on their own two feet in the wake of the social upheaval around them.

Howard's End was, at its core, an enchanting story revolving around the human condition, connection, and a lovely piece of property that I would want for myself as much as Ruth Wilcox wanted it for her and for Margaret. While social mores and propriety were examined in the context of three separate socioeconomic classes, such as they were in The Age of Innocence (thought that film centered on the upper stratus of the socioeconomic pyramid), the larger themes at work were, in some ways, more insidious, insightful, and meaningful than in Scorsese's film. And while Howard's End focused on several different characters revolving in concentric and sometimes overlapping circles around the Schlegel sisters, the underlying commentary was never lost or scattered. The story was satisfying and reached an acceptable and reasonable conclusion.

The reason why this film was nominated for so many Oscars was because, again, the production values of this picture were exquisite and superb. Howard's End looked like something from a fairy tale; the art direction fueling the look of these turn-of-the-century English homes was painstakingly detailed, and the cinematographical shifts in light and hue of frame transformed Howard's End into that magical something that made it different from the stuffy Wilcox homes or the cluttered London flat occupied by the Schlegel sisters. The film was as visually interesting as the story was engaging.

I occasionally felt bored, though, only because the pacing was a bit inconsistent, particularly about the time that Henry Wilcox begins courting Margaret. I can only guess that the novel would likely have focused on Margaret's inner turmoil between appeasing her sister, maintaining her individual ideologies, and compromising with her stalwart and traditional fiance, but the film failed to fully flush out that turmoil, and the film slowed up considerably when some of the events felt like a middle-of-the-road round of exposition to stage some of Margaret's subsequent reactions. The narrative flow was not interrupted, and it made sense and set the stage for the following events and ultimate conclusion of the story, but I did start to temporarily lose interest and to yawn somewhere near the end of the second third of the film.

All in all, though, there was an unmistakable examination of class that also seemed to be derisive of the aristocracy and mogul without being obvious or ham-fisted about it, and I think that's why I enjoyed and related to this film more than to The Age of Innocence. While James Ivory's direction lacked the panache of Scorsese, and while the visual presentation was, perhaps, less beautiful than the delicate details of The Age of Innocence, the result was organic and relatable as well as contextual with respect to the fact that the film is set in early 20th century England - after all, it is a very rainy country.

The performances were also wonderful in this film. Every actor was engaging and interesting, with the possible exception of Nicola Duffett as Mrs. Bast. She reminded me of an English Belle Watling from Gone with the Wind but lacked the charm of the actress who played Belle, and it was hard to feel sympathetic to her character, but, perhaps, that was the point, in order to draw a stronger viewer connection to Mr. Bast. I have not seen any of the other nominees in the Best Actress category, but I think it's a good bet that Emma Thompson earned her little golden statuette because she made Margaret so warm and multilayered, funny, wise, tragic, flawed, and interesting. Also, this character was able to experience many different emotions, and the suspension of disbelief was whole and complete thanks to Thompson's expertise at her craft.

Ultimately, I really enjoyed Howard's End because its palpable charm was so infectious, though the film contained some detracting minor flaws in the pacing and occasional performance that kept me from completely falling in love with the film. As such, the film earns an 8 on the ratings scale for very good/minor flaws. I'm not sure if it passes the test. The ending, though reasonable in lieu of the rest of the story, was a little sad, even as the rest of the film provided an emotional roller coaster of a viewing experience. I might have to watch it one more time to be absolutely sure. I am sure I would love to own an estate like Howard's End, though, as I am absolutely sure that I would recommend this film to anyone who might be captivated by such a place themselves.

Revisiting Close Encounters of the Third Kind for the AFI Project

pippin06 — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 03:29:11 GMT

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

Close Encounters of the Third Kind is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#64)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#31)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#58)

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (hereinafter called "Close Encounters") is another one of those films that I watched and rewatched throughout my childhood. I have also owned it in various forms (the test passes!) and bought the super-fancy-deluxe-anniversary edition in advance of viewing it again for this project. To me, Close Encounters is something like ET for adults, or ET with a mystery-type beginning, and yet, it's a film that stands on its own merits. It's a multilayered exploration and discussion of many themes, from faith to preserving innocence to opening the mind to extreme possibilities, and it's also a classic film that has held up well, despite the timing of its introduction in the late 70s.

In Close Encounters, Richard Dreyfuss plays Roy Neary, an electrical lineman who, as the title of the film would suggest, encouters a UFO in rural Indiana. He's not alone. Jillian (Melinda Dillon) and her son see the odd lights in the sky and experience the odd noises, too, and, eventually, Barry is taken away. Roy, who steadily becomes more obsessed with the quest to make sense of what he saw, up-ends his family, including his wife (Teri Garr) and three children, by sculpting shapes in his mashed potatoes ("This means something; this is important") and, eventually, by replicating the famed Devil's Tower in Wyoming in his living room by means of garbage and refuse from his lawn. In the meantime, a French researcher named LaCombe (Francois Truffault) and his translator (Bob Balaban) have found odd crash sites from airplanes missing decades earlier, and the US government appears to have knowledge of these strange happenings, as they stage a false viral outbreak in the vicinity of Devil's Tower to keep curious onlookers away from the area. All the while, people who have had these close encounters themselves, Roy and Jillian included, seem drawn to this location, as the researchers and government officials team up to construct close encounters of their own.

The reason Close Encounters works is that it is, in ways, fresh and different, even as it recycles some of the motifs from scifis of the 50s and 60s. At its core, it's about aliens and outer space, flying their spaceships and making contact with Earth and with humans, but, for once, they're not attacking. Spielberg would catch quite a bevy of flack later in his career for making all of his science fiction pictures about friendly aliens, but, it's potentially flawed to limit the ideal of visitors from other worlds to the possibility that they would only be hostile.

The picture also expounds on the idea of communication, through a universal language that has long been accepted as such: music. John Williams, movie composer extraordinaire and Stevie's go-to music man, created a wonderful score punctuated by five iconic notes that symbolize something humans seek in everyday life: connection. Since the story concept is Spielberg's (he is credited with the screenplay), and since he was also the director, these bits of subtlety and grace resulted in a wonderful, layered tale that truly engages the viewer and makes him or her (and especially me) as curious and as attracted to the UFO mystery as Roy and Jillian.

Spielberg's unquestioned skill is unmistakable here. Like in Jaws, again operating on a small, if blown, budget, Stevie used the implication of what was not visually there to ratchet up the spooky factor. Scenes would go completely quiet, bereft of all noise, including underscore. The expressions on the child actor who played Barry (Cary Guffey) were pricelessly coaxed out of him. Also, the visual effects in this film are quite stunning for the year in which the film was produced; they look almost as seamless as present-day CGI, and digitally rendered versions of the film do little more than accentuate the clarity of what was already there.

The performances, even if not Oscar-worthy and a bit clunky at times (Dreyfuss and Garr are a highly unlikely couple and completely lack chemistry), are genuine; the reactions are organic and expected, and none of it feels hammy or over-the-top. Close Encounters works also, then, because it feels so natural - if UFOs did truly descend to Earth in any measurable way, witnessed by many instead of a few crackpots with fuzzy cameras, I imagine similar reactions would erupt from onlookers and their beleaguered families. The touches of tying the UFOs and strange discoveries in the film to other interesting supernatural mythology, such as the Bermuda Triangle, were a nice touch on Spielberg's part too.

In short, this movie is just fun, like so many of Spielberg's blockbuster films, but it also has his undeniably artistic touch that accents and accentuates the story he is telling. The film moves a bit slowly, but it has a distinctive atmosphere that people are either going to be drawn into and fascinated by or are not going to be interested in because they are not quite predisposed to UFO phenomena. I love Close Encounters though because it is an excellent story and a great piece of filmmaking. It's not Spielberg's masterpiece, but it's still quite entertaining for scifi buffs like me. I think the film warrants an 8.5 (between minor flaws/very good and perfectly entertaining) on the patented ratings scale. I also think the film merits its rankings on the AFI lists - the film is spooky enough to be quite heart-pounding, and the friendly alien motif provides some messages of hope and wonderment that truly inspire. Sadly, however, the film did not make the AFI's revised greatest list, instead being replaced by Network (which moved up two spots). I guess the film isn't for everyone, but one should at least give the film a chance: watch it and see if experiencing these close encounters are as magical for you as they have always been for me.

Oscar Flashback: The Age of Innocence (1993)

pippin06 — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 00:00:26 GMT

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)? Read here:

Next on my Netflix queue was The Age of Innocence, for which Winona Ryder was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar; Martin Scorsese and Jay Cocks were nominated for the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar; Dante Ferretti and Robert J. Franco were nominated for the Best Art Direction/Set Direction Oscar; Gabrielle Pescucci won the Best Costume Design Oscar; and Elmer Bernstein was nominated for the Best Original Score Oscar (film year, 1993; awarding year, 1994). The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Supporting Actress

The Piano - Anna Paquin (Winner)

The Firm - Holly Hunter
Fearless - Rosie Perez
In The Name of the Father - Emma Thompson

Best Adapted Screenplay

Schindler's List (Winner)

In the Name of the Father
The Remains of the Day
Shadowlands

Best Art Direction/Set Direction

Schindler's List (Winner)

Addams Family Values
Orlando
The Remains of the Day

Best Costume Design

Schindler's List
Orlando
The Piano
The Remains of the Day

Best Original Score

Schindler's List (Winner)

The Firm
The Fugitive
The Remains of the Day

This film represents the fifth of five Martin Scorsese films topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track. This film further begins a couplet of Oscar-nominated dramas based on classical literature and a string of nine Oscar-nominated dramas in general categories, for future reference.

Yet again, my interest was piqued in The Age of Innocence because it’s a period drama based on a classic novel by Edith Wharton (which I haven’t read) and, therefore, another unusual experiment of Marty’s in his overall filmography. While the setting is Victorian New York City, the location Marty knows best, in the late nineteenth century, it’s also a study of the human condition in operation at the time, which emphasized subtlety, propriety, and etiquette, particularly amongst the aristocracy and particularly as it applied to women. Ultimately, however, the film includes some of the themes that Scorsese has incorporated in most to all of his films: what do humans, particularly men, do with tough choices, temptation, lust, passion, and the ensuing guilt and quest for redemption when sin or something like it is committed or flirted with by such characters. Thus, in many ways, this kind of story, which would seem so divergent from gangsters and guns, is kind of right up Marty’s alley, and the production values of this film prove that he seemed to take a shine to it as much as he would the mafia or any of his so-called usual subjects.

In The Age of Innocence, Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis) has recently become engaged to May Welland (Winona Ryder), a member of another wealthy family and a sweet if naïve and shallow woman. While attending the opera, May reacquaints him with her cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), who, Newland comes to find out, has flown from her wayward husband, the count, to return to New York and is requesting a divorce, something ladies of wealthy and genteel standing simply did not do at the time. As they were former childhood friends, Newland believes it is incumbent upon him to use his family’s good standing and connections to assuage Ellen’s deteriorating reputation. At the same time, Ellen is a modicum of individuality and a free spirit; she has scandalous thoughts and opinions that fly in the face of aristocratic traditions, and they excite Newland to the point of unadulterated lust. Thus, in order to stymie his burgeoning passion and keep within the social codes of well-bred manners and proper public behavior, Newland rushes to marry May, petitioning her matriarch grandmother to allow them to shorten their engagement. Soon after his pleas to May that the engagement be shortened, and May’s growing suspicion that Newland may be dallying with another woman, thus coming to her in a wave of guilt and causing her to deny his request, Newland finds that he cannot hold himself back any longer, and he confesses his love for Ellen. Though she may return his feelings, Ellen realizes that they can never be together because to deny May for her, in an act of volition that would only violate the traditions Newland finds himself an entrenched member in despite his yearning to walk on the wild side, would stifle Newland in a wholly different manner, so Ellen pushes him to May and leaves town. Newland and May marry, but when Newland later sees Ellen again, his longing for her becomes so all-powerful that he is willing to engage in the affair with her, even as he realizes that May and the rest of their wealthy friends may know more than he has hitherto believed.

The Age of Innocence is a beautiful movie, in terms of its visual presence. Marty and his production team, from painstakingly detailed art direction, to beautifully rendered period costumes, to colorful and bright cinematography, to a rich and evocative score by Elmer Bernstein that very much recalls the time period being recreated, the film’s presentation as something to purely observe was as pretty as a painting. It was hard not to be drawn into such a vividly recalled world from a past long gone with the kind of layering that occurred between all technical aspects of the filmmaking, and the skill used in piecing together these layers is undeniable.

Marty’s signature styles are also evident, from strategically placed camera wipes to frames that morph from one scene to another in a seamless fashion. He was able to match the subtlety of the themes being explored in the story with his own level of subdued bravado. I could tell Scorsese directed this film, even as it was a film that I never would have guessed was ultimately directed by him, and the result was a marvel. This film is certainly artistic and a wonderful addition to Scorsese's overall body of work.

The performances were also very good. The best performance, I think, belonged to Winona Ryder, who was nominated for an Oscar for it. I say this because she infused a sweetness in May which made her character ultimately sympathetic, sad, and strong, even as she was painted to be weak, frail, and ignorant of the larger forces at work around her. Though Ryder has often overstated certain performances or been completely miscast or seemed to be Winona Ryder playing Winona Ryder all over again, none of those characteristics were noticeable here. Her performance was as subtle as the story being told, and I forgot that it was her most of the time.

Day-Lewis and Pfeiffer also did well, but for them, I was less imperssed this time around, only because they have long-established track records. Day-Lewis has played many characters of widely different temperaments and motivations, so such a straight character with his smoldering, barely erupting passion did not seem like much of a stretch for him, and Pfeiffer has turned in performances of varied emotional range as well, though at times, I thought of Selena Kyle and Catwoman during this film as I watched her. Don’t ask me why.

The film also seems to be a wonderful adaptation of the source material, because I was never left for wanting in terms of the progression and resolution of the tale. The problem is – the film was boring, in its own way, and I think it was boring because this type of story is better suited for being read from the actual novel than for watching on screen. The visual presence was lavish, the performances were great, the direction was great – but, at least for me, this is not the type of story that sits well for two hours of viewing, and I think that there is a general reaction toward this film, about it being boring, that can be correlated exactly to the fact that it’s better as literature than as film. Does this quality detract from the film? Well, in a way, because I don’t feel it’s the type of film that can stand the test of a time, even as it’s understandable that this film would be an Oscar darling, considering that Oscar loves a good period film. Of course, this really is a good period film – if you go in for this sort of thing, i.e. a study of subtlety, repression, and the other topics previously mentioned.

In any event, it seems 1993 was a tough year for Oscar competition, considering that it was the year of Schindler's List and Philadelphia and a number of other films that have since settled more permanently into the public consciousness. These films also have a more timeless quality than this film, which plants two feet firmly into its lost-world days-of-yore period and may be less relatable overall than some of these other tales.

In any event, the Age of Innocence is a thing of beauty in its way, though it may best be appreciated in small doses. Ultimately, I think the viewers who enjoy this film most will also be those who have a predisposition toward literature grounded in the Victorian era, which tend to explore similar themes and exhibit similar tones. I enjoyed watching this film for a while but ultimately lost interest in the story, because I tend to have little sympathy for the mores of so-called uppercrust society, and the human condition for the rich is only as compelling as the degree of connection that can be created from these wealthy characters to those who are not wealthy. It is as it is. So, in consideration of all of these considerations, I think the Age of Innocence should be awarded an 8 for being very good/having minor flaws (because it can't be perfectly entertaining if I can't relate to the film in any way). As to the test, it does not pass. Sometimes, a painting, like a film, is only worth one look-see, even if it's a very pretty thing to look at, indeed.