Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Star Crap

















The Star Wars Holiday Special
1978
* (out of 4)

Clone Wars
2003
*** (out of 4)

The Clone Wars
2008
* (out of 4)


A CLARIFICATION – Right off the bat, we need to distinguish between “The Clone Wars” and simply “Clone Wars.” Clone Wars (without the “The’) was a traditionally animated set of shorts that aired on Cartoon Network beginning in 2003. THE Clone Wars, released in 2008, was the computer animated feature that acted as a pilot to a different series, also on Cartoon Network. It’s important to remember the difference because one of them really really sucks.

I would’ve found it difficult to believe that any new product would join the dreaded Holiday Special in the smelly armpit of the Star Wars universe, but damned if The Clone Wars doesn’t sink right in there. Like its similarly named predecessor, The Clone Wars is meant to bridge Episodes II and III. The likeness ends there.

I get that The Clone Wars is geared toward kids. I get that it’s the pilot to a TV series and not a stand alone film. What I don’t get is how George Lucas could deliver a product so shabby. Sure, the prequels had their problems, but nothing remotely compared a drag queen Hut named Ziro, who sounds like a combination of Truman Capote and Droopy Dog.

Such atrocities abound! Anakin is provided a Padawan to train, who appears as a young alien girl, but talks like a modern day tween at the mall. She calls him “Sky Guy” and he calls her “Snips” (cause she’s snippy – get it.) The plot like thing that passes for a story involves the rescue of Jabba the Hut’s baby, nicknamed “stinky,” who fails to be cute, which is quite an accomplishment for a baby anything. Its educational that, during the commentary track, the filmmakers (I’m not even going to bother to look up their names) specifically credit Lucas with the most cringe-worthy moments.

Having heard about the various horrors mentioned, I was hoping for at least a bit of campiness to relieve the pain, but whenever idiocy is not on screen, The Clone Wars sinks into utter boredom (I honestly fell asleep). With a little lightsaber work thrown in here and there, a whole hour of this thing is basically droids and clone-troopers shooting at each other over and over again. To top it all off, the computer animation effects aren’t any good either. All the characters pretty much look like dead eyed toys, which may not have been an accident. We have advanced beyond the technology where hair needs to look like plastic.

As maddening as it is to see the Star Wars franchise sink this low, what’s truly unfathomable is that there already was a successful blueprint from which to start a Clone Wars series. That would be the traditionally animated Clone Wars shorts than ran in three to fifteen minute installments from 2003 to 2005. Produced by Genndy Tartakovsky, of Samurai Jack fame, this version of the Clone Wars had all the action and, more importantly, the Star Wars spirit lacking in the 2008 model.

It also had limitations, but they were inherent in the format. With the first set of shorts averaging less than five minutes each, there was only so much character development possible, not to mention the fact that they couldn’t mess with the continuity of the feature films. The animation style was traditional, only enhanced by CG for special effect shots. This old-fashioned look meant that there would be no jaw-dropping special effects, but it freed the creative team to explore fresh ideas in the Star Wars universe.

Clone Wars not only followed the Jedi we already know, but shown the spotlight on minor characters who only received a few seconds of screen time in the features. Underwater battles, a cave containing lightsaber crystals, a Jedi with four throats using his voice as a weapon, and an increasing array of weapons and aliens got the animator’s creative juices flowing.

Among my favorite sequences were those involving Mace Windu. Since Samuel L. Jackson’s vocal talents were unavailable, they had the character say little, but kick much butt while single-handedly facing an army of battle droids and a new secret weapon. Anakin is provided a suitable opponent in Asajj Ventressa, a hissing female Sith wannabee who makes a great entrance by easily vanquishing a squadron of Count Dooku’s minions.

Another villain, introduced near the end of the series, tied in directly to Episode III. It seems Lucas was suitably impressed with the first season of shorts to make the series canon. If you wondered why the lightsaber wielding cyborg, General Grievous, had a sickly wheeze in Revenge of the Sith, it’s because of an injury suffered during Clone Wars.

General Grievous and the plot to Kidnap Chancellor Palpatine ends Clone Wars at exactly the point where the last of the prequels begins. It remains the most impressive Star Wars product outside the feature films themselves.

No discussion of the Star Wars franchise would be complete without talking about the aforementioned armpit of awfulness known as The Star Wars Holiday Special. Unlike The Clone Wars (2008), which should be avoided at all costs, this is something you really need to see. Just as you need to see the Bee Gee’s and Peter Frampton try to make a movie of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band or hear William Shatner try to sing “Mr. Tambourine Man,” this is the accident on the side of the road that you can’t help but stare at in disbelief.

Take yourself back to 1978 and remember the variety shows popular back then – Donnie & Marie, Sonny & Cher, Barbara Mandrell & the freaking Mandrell Sisters. Now combine it with Star Wars and you can only begin to imagine the mess. The “story” involves the Millennium Falcon having to return to Chewbacca’s home planet so his family (Malla, Itchy and Lumpy) can celebrate “Life Day.”

Basically the thing starts out with about twenty minutes of Wookiee talk, highlighted by Grampa Wookiee seemingly getting off on some virtual reality Wookiee porn, which turns out to be Diane Carroll singing. This, closely followed by a Jefferson Starship performance (get it – Starship! ‘cause it’s in space - yeah.) and a plethora of guest stars like Art Carney and Harvey Korman, highlighted by Bea Arthur singing to a giant rat in the Cantina. As a bonus, the cast of Star Wars (yes, even Harrison Ford), humiliates themselves for our entertainment. Want to see Mark Hamill in way too much eye makeup? How about Carrie Fisher singing lyrics to the Star Wars theme?

Needless to say, after one showing in 1978, The Star Wars Holiday Special was hidden away in a secret vault in the hopes that it would be forgotten. As a result, it’s only available as a bootleg. The version I saw was a friend’s bootleg videotape of a New York airing that included commercials and a teaser to the evening’s local newscast. This teaser was of a mustached, very ‘70’s announcer right out of Anchorman, repeatedly promising, “fighting frizzies, tonight at 11:00!” This made me laugh hysterically because I had recently watched The South Park Holiday Special, which had a parody of that same news teaser. Utterly inexplicable; unless you had, not only seen the Holiday Special, but the version that aired in New York, with the commercials intact. Talk about an inside joke!

You know, I could go on reviewing even more Star Wars stuff. There were two Ewok Adventure TV movies, Saturday morning cartoons (Ewoks and Droids), The Clone Wars series and countess novelizations and comic books. I feel done though. So, in the name of the Force, the Star Wars forum is now closed. On to other adventures.

REVENGE OF THE SITH


Revenge of the Sith
2005
*** ½ (out of 4)

It was almost inevitable that Revenge of the Sith would have an edge up on its prequel predecessors. Episodes One and Two spent so much screen time futzing around with inessentials that the bulk of the story was left for the third installment. This only works to its benefit. After all, we now know what comes directly before and directly after. Provided with an inherently strong narrative, George Lucas and company proved (mostly) up to the task of bridging the prequels with the original trilogy.

Revenge of the Sith opens with the kind of majestic space battle that generally served as climaxes for earlier installments. It’s a tangible raising of the stakes, not only on an action level, but dramatically as well. Finally getting around to the tale of Anakin’s fall to the dark side puts all the action sequences in a broader context and they resonate more powerfully because of it.

This is especially true in scenes featuring Emperor Palpatine as played by Ian McDiarmid in one of the best performances of the series. Yes, he’s hamming it up in that old British Shakespearian actor’s way, but he finds the exact right tone for this type of movie, whether conveying deviousness or all out evil. When he’s tempting Anakin toward the dark side, Hayden Christensen (better here than in Attack of the Clones) shows more chemistry with McDiarmid than he did with Natalie Portman.

This leads to the great Force/lightsaber battles, first with Mace Windu, then with Yoda. As in Episode II, there’s something very gratifying in watching Yoda fight. More gratifying still is the climatic showdown between the, now fully dark, Anakin and Obi-Wan on the volcanic planet of Mustafar. Rumors of this battle, complete with its fiery setting, have been gestating at least back to the time of The Empire Strikes Back. With exploding lava in the background, thankfully, Lucas gets this epic moment right.

The results are pretty grim and, along with a very effective sequence showing the slaughter of all but a few Jedi, led Revenge of the Sith to become the first Star Wars movie with a PG-13 rating.

It’s not that Revenge of the Sith doesn’t have some problems. It’s just that, unlike The Phantom Menace’s Jar Jar Binks or Attack of the Clone’s sappy romantic dialogue, they’re small unfortunate moments that, all in all, total about a minute of screen time. In fact, if a few seconds here and a few seconds there were edited out of the film, it would easily graduate from very good to great.

These three moments, all near the end of the film, are as follows:

1) “She lost her will to live” – Please don’t make me issue a spoiler warning here. If you’ve been at all paying attention, the death of Luke and Leia’s mother should not come as a surprise. Why should Padme, a supposedly strong character, whose kids would hold the fate of the galaxy in their hands, simply give up on life while giving birth? (as explained in a line of dialogue by a nurse droid.) Especially since Anakin had already wounded her with the Vader throat choke, they already had a logical way to justify why she would die in childbirth.

2) “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” – OK, was this a moment in a Star Wars movie or a Simpson’s parody of a Star Wars movie. Upon learning of his wives death, the newly minted Darth Vader’s cry of anguish is rendered comical at the very wrong moment. Poor James Earl Jones gets to utter about two sentences and one of them is this!

3) “A new mission for you I have” – One of the mysteries of Star Wars has always been, why do some Jedi disappear into thin air when they die while others do not? I had hoped this would eventually be revealed, but not as a throwaway line jammed into the end of the film with no context or follow up. Seemingly, as Yoda tells Obi-Wan, the disappearing act is an advanced Jedi trick that can be learned through years of practice (cause you don’t want to get this one wrong.) Yoda’s mentioning of Qui-Gon Jinn as part of this training begs the question of why he didn’t vanish at the end of The Phantom Menace.

All is set right by the very end, however, with scenes taking place on there very ship that opens the first Star Wars, as well the Tatooine home where Luke would grow up. All throughout Revenge of the Sith, ship models, set design and music more closely hearken back to the original trilogy, providing a pronounced feeling of nostalgia. It’s a good nostalgia though, and necessary to close the circle and set the stage for “A New Hope.” That it succeeds in its primary purpose is enough to set Revenge of the Sith apart and ahead of the other prequels.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

ATTACK OF THE CLONES


Attack of the Clones
2002
*** (out of 4)

The last half hour of Attack of the Clones brings the energy and adrenaline that had been missing from the Star Wars prequels thus far. Finally the promise made to fans was fulfilled and once again the Force was with us. It must be noted that Attack of the Clones runs almost two and a half hours and getting to that last half hour is a bit of an uneven trudge.

It’s in this film that the main Achilles Heal of the prequels reveals itself and is not so easily solved as cutting down Jar Jar Bink’s screen time. Episodes 1-3 purport to tell the story of Anakin Skywalker’s temptation, fall to the dark side and the destruction of his soul that leads him to become Darth Vader. This is the stuff of high tragedy, but to make that work, at some point the audience needs to relate to and like Anakin.

Young Anakin of The Phantom Menace was likable enough, but simply too young a child to relate to as a full character. Hayden Christensen, taking over the role for Attack of the Clones, plays the teenage Anakin as moody, selfish and whiney. This all taking place before the influence of the dark side means he didn’t have too far to fall. In the original Star Wars, Luke Skywalker also began as whiny and immature, but his story arch turned him into a hero we could root for. For Anakin, what should have been tragic instead plays out as inevitable.

Attack of the Clones was marketed as the “love story” episode. The romance of Anakin and (formerly princess) Senator Padme Amidala, as played by Natalie Portman, is a key plot point, but here’s where the going gets rough. Not only do Christensen and Portman have zero chemistry, but they are provided with possibly the worst romantic dialogue I have ever heard. The language is so gooey sugary that one expects a punch-line. Unfortunately, there’s not a trace of irony in such saccharine moments as when Anakin favorably compares Padme to sand. Considering the spunky lines Lawrence Kasdan gave Han and Leia in Empire, Lucas should have known his own limitations and outsourced to a quality writer.

Things don’t improve much as our young lovers, cavorting in a Naboo field straight out of The Sound of Music, turn the conversation to politics. Anakin’s simple minded assertion that all would be well if he was simply in charged might have been a hint that he was not playing with a full deck. I buy that love is blind, but does it have to be dumb as well?

I initially thought the mistake was in casting Hayden Christensen, who I had not seen prior to this film. The kid can’t act, I figured. A few years later, seeing him in the newspaper drama, Shattered Glass, I was proven wrong by his steady lead as an ethically challenged newspaper reporter. Natalie Portman had long been one of the better young actresses around and would soon give one of the decade’s powerhouse performances in Mike Nichols’ sexual battlefield tale, Closer. Still, both actors are so wooden in Attack of the Clones, that it seems they were instructed to act badly.

Relief from all this comes with the expertly crafted action scenes that are the reason to see this film. A flying car chase through the crowded skyways of Coruscant and Obi-Wan’s rain drenched brawl with Jango Fett are pre-climax highlights. The later sequence being significant for cleverly introducing the clone army concept and providing a cameo for young Boba Fett, a character who, in the first trilogy, developed quite the cult following that has always escaped me.

In the original Star Wars, a much older Obi-Wan Kenobi made a passing reference to the Clone Wars. Considering all the mythology surrounding that first film, this unseen bit of history remained an intriguing piece of the puzzle that is finally brought to fruition in Attack of the Clones. Obi-Wan, Anakin and Padme are all taken prisoner on the planet of Geonosis, populated by strange cockroach type creatures. The young couple are to be sacrificed in the galactic version of a gladiator arena to an even stranger selection of beasts.

Obi-Wan is interrogated by Christopher Lee’s Count Dooku, now revealed to be a Sith Lord. Bringing in Christopher Lee is a great bit of casting fun, since he co-starred, from the 50’s through the 70’s, in a long running series of horror film by the British Hammer studios. His nemesis in these films tended to be played by Peter Cushing who neared the end of his career as Grand Moff Tarkin in Star Wars.

The momentum of the climax kicks into high gear as the Jedi Knights come to the rescue. This would be our first glimpse of Jedi in their prime (i.e. who are not being trained, incredibly old or half cyborg) in full blooded action. The resulting battle does not disappoint, but must take a back seat in coolness to an all digital, lightsaber wielding, badass Yoda who just steals the movie from everybody.

Here again, the mythology of the original trilogy is so strong that it carries on to a film made decades later. The depiction of Yoda as a master of the Force was so convincing in Empire that we just knew, despite his size (“size matters not”) that he could kick some major ass. In Attack of the Clones, we see him do it.

The film ends on a strong note with the clone army looking like prototype stormtroopers and our first glimpse of what will become Imperial Star Destroyers, all as “The Imperial March” ominously plays on the soundtrack. A cut to the (thankfully dialogueless) wedding of Anakin and Padme, with emphasis on the groom’s now artificial hand, indicates that the circle between the two trilogies are closing.

Despite the unevenness displayed throughout, the climax of Attack of the Clones showed that Lucas could still do some Star Wars when he sets his mind to it.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

THE PHANTOM MENACE


The Phantom Menace
1999
*** (out of 4)

As we begin our discussion of the Star Wars prequels, you may notice a disconnect between the level of criticism I heap on the films and my conclusion that they are actually pretty good. The question at hand is; should they be judged as self contained works or as part of the overall Star Wars universe? If the former, then yes, George Lucas has made three entertaining sci-fi adventures. What they are not, are worthy successors to the original trilogy, which why nitpicking is the order of the day.

Perhaps it was never realistic to expect the prequels to live up to their predecessors after 16 years. Had Lucas followed the example of Peter Hyams, he may have set more realistic expectations. Hyams had the unenviable challenge of directing 2010, the sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s unparalleled masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey. He wisely understood that the task was impossible and any attempt to recreate Kubrick’s genius was doomed to fail. So he changed the game. Using the many of the same characters and settings, Hyams made 2010 an effective space thriller that stood on its own and bore no resemblance to the original.

George Lucas, on the other hand, never stops reminding us that we are back in the Star Wars universe. If fans don’t feel that same thrill of years past, it’s our fault for losing our own sense of childhood wonder. Could it be that it was his own anticipation of this reaction that motivated Lucas to tweak his originals so that they more resembled the updates? If we had lost that sense of wonder, it was miraculously regained a year later when The Lord of the Rings proved that filmgoers still appreciate great fantasy.

All these accusations of jadedness were a result of Star Wars fans everywhere rejecting a creation Lucas was particularly proud of, The Phantom Menace’s odious Jar Jar Binks. Jar Jar was the first fully realized computer generated character in a live action film. It was a technical breakthrough that paved the way for a battle ready Yoda and Lord of the Ring’s unforgettable Gollum.

Unfortunately, Jar Jar was provided with mannerisms so unbelievably stupid that the movie stops dead in its tracks whenever he appears. There was some talk that he was some kind of racist portrayal of a Jamaican stereotype, but I never saw that. What I did see was a character in a Star Wars film shamelessly breaking into Bill Cosby’s old dentist comedy routine (just before the pod-race) and making kindergarten level shit and fart jokes. Lucas’ excuse was that this was the episode for the tots. I couldn’t help but remember the droids and Ewoks from the first trilogy filling that function without insulting the intelligence of the very kids they were trying to appeal to.

Though overshadowed by Jar Jar’s inanity, equally frustrating were the vocal ticks of those Trade Federation aliens meant to convey some kind of bureaucratic threat to our heroes. Here, I found accusations of racial insensitivity spot on, as their accents were third rate Charlie Chan Asian stereotypes. Maybe subtitles are too much to ask for in a self proclaimed children’s movie (though they certainly worked for Jabba the Hut), but at least pay some attention to where your alien dialects are coming from.

I’m less annoyed by young Jake Lloyd’s casting as future Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, in his childhood years. He’s not particularly engaging, but he’s also not given much to do. If he doesn’t match such stellar child actor performances as Henry Thomas in E.T or Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense, its likely that he was cast too young for a part that could have been more involving with an actor a few years older.

If you’re waiting for the “on the other hand” part, here it is. The Phantom Menace was wholly successful in using computer technology to create a rich visual pallet and a beautiful looking film. The sprawling cityscapes of Coruscant (very influenced by Blade Runner) and the royal classicism of Naboo, showed that new computer technology could be used not just as enhancements, but to create whole worlds from scratch. Most impressive was an underwater chase sequence that collected a vivid menagerie of sea monsters and ended much too soon.

Two other set-pieces were just as memorable. The pod-race on Tatooine harkened back to a Star Wars environment we were already familiar with, but with the added bonus of a state-of the-art CG action piece. Cameos by Jawas and Sand People offered welcome bursts of nostalgia. The climatic light saber battle with Darth Maul (an effectively unsettling creation) also did not disappoint, thanks not only to great stunt-work, but also John William’s haunting choral theme, “Duel of the Fates.”

On the performance front, Ewan McGregor as a young Obi-Wan Kenobi had Alec Guinness’ mannerism down pat, which would lend credibility to all the prequels. Liam Neeson has long been typecast in mentor roles and for good reason. His portrayal of Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, offered the same kind of grounding as Harrison Ford provided in the original trilogy.

So we have some quality set pieces and some good performance, but what is sorely missing from The Phantom Menace is a strong overall narrative. So much emphasis is placed on the film’s technical achievements that the story just gets bogged down. The political maneuverings that will pay off in subsequent episodes are never made interesting here and, worse, even the concept of the Force is made mundane by providing a pseudo-science explanation for what should have remained a spiritual phenomenon.

The Phantom Menace ends up doing what it does well, very well, but what it does poorly, it cannot really recover from. As enjoyable as some sequences are, without a solid narrative through-line, it’s not really Star Wars. It’s the kind of movie that fast-forward buttons were created for. Particularly, when any line of dialogue begins with "Meesa."

Sunday, November 2, 2008

RETURN OF THE JEDI


Return of the Jedi
1983
**** (out of 4)

Let me begin by making one thing clear. I have no problem with Ewoks. The standard rag on Return of the Jedi is that these cuddly teddy bear creatures represented George Lucas’ initial foray into kiddie pandering. First of all, there’s nothing inherently wrong with cute in a Star Wars film (as opposed to stupid which will be discussed in the next review), especially when combined with the sly humor that came to define the trilogy.

Second, the Ewoks conceptually made sense in the context of this movie and the Star Wars Universe. The Empire was consistently shown to have an overwhelming advantage in the hardware department. Only when the quasi-spiritual elements of the force were introduced did the odds somewhat even up. For non-force enhanced rebels, the Ewoks’ use of their natural forest environment in battle delivered the message that even the most advanced technology could be overcome by pure hearts and fighting spirits. It’s the classic David and Goliath tale.

If all this seems to lean a bit much toward the sentimental, so be it. As the climatic installment of the series, Jedi has earned that right, especially since much of its screen time was occupied by two of the creepiest villains since, well since Darth Vader.

Take Jabba the Hut, a bloated reptile slug thing crossed with a 1930’s gangster boss. He was not only a giant leap forward in the art of puppetry on film, but also joined the ranks of Hollywood’s classic monsters. Holding Han Solo prisoner in carbonite and chained to Princess Leia in a fetching bikini, the atmosphere of Jabba’s lair was sufficiently dark to recapture the mood at the end of Empire, while also recalling the alien cantina sequence from the original Star Wars.

With Darth Vader now established as Luke Skywalker’s father, a new symbol of pure evil was needed. The pasty wrinkled visage of the Emperor was the perfect personification of the dark side of the force. Ian McDiarmid, under loads of makeup, managed the difficult task of convincing us that his Emperor is not only more evil, but more powerful that Vader, who had previously personified those qualities.

Those who complain about Ewoks, seem not to remember that their scenes were inter-cut with the harrowing “Last Temptation of Luke Skywalker” sequence. That this final lightsaber fight was not about the Emperor and Vader trying to kill Luke, but instead focused on turning him to the dark side, significantly raised the dramatic stakes, further enhanced by some of composer, John William’s darkest music.

Star Wars was the original and Empire may be the best, but I think Return of the Jedi has a legitimate claim as the most purely entertaining entry in the series. George Lucas and company had already created a universe and changed the world. The story had already been built to a point that its resonance was assured and its conclusion inevitable. In Jedi, they took the opportunity to play around and have fun with it, offering more creatures, bigger space battles and characters we now know well, relishing in their personality quirks.

Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back were among the finest examples of the adventure film ever to make their way into theaters. As discussed in earlier reviews, that both films could reach those heights was improbable at best. Return of the Jedi should not be penalized for not quite equaling them. It’s a great film in its own right. More importantly, it’s a real Star Wars film that fully captured the spirit of its predecessors and provided a conclusion that did them justice.

This is a good a place as any to shift gears towards those 1997 re-releases of the original trilogy that featured those digitally enhanced scenes meant to clean up dated special effects and provide continuity with the upcoming sequels. At the time, they were pretty exciting, mostly because there hadn’t been any new Star Wars product on the big screen for quite some time, but also because our expectations for the prequels could not have been higher.

Notable additions included more elaborate scenery on Tatooine, a brief first look at the prequel planet of Coruscant and a humorous bit where a few Stormtroopers chasing Han Solo were multiplied. The Ewok song at the end of Jedi, which, I actually kind of liked, was replaced by admittedly more suitable jungle rhythms. There was also a previously deleted scene in Star Wars with Jabba the Hut, played at the time by an actor, but here digitally enhanced with the familiar creature. My only problem with this is that, for those seeing the film for the first time, Jabba’s big reveal in Jedi is undercut.

Most infamous, is the loathed “Greedo shot first” scene, set in the cantina of the original film. Here’s where the Star Wars catchphrase “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” first started cropping up among the fan base. Han Solo is a good guy, but also a smuggler, fugitive and - what did Leia call him? – That’s right, a scoundrel. This was the point at which George Lucas began acting as a revisionist of his original work. A key character lost some edge and a good scene was made just a little weaker.

Now, with the saga complete, these revisions seem even less necessary than in 1997. If, particularly Star Wars’ effects seems a little dated, I find that part of its charm. Given the choice, I would rather revisit the un-enhanced versions. I don’t mind that the “special editions” exist. I do mind that Lucas seems to want them to replace and not just provide an alternative to the originals.

Still, it was 1997 and Star Wars was back. New movies were in production and some of the most beloved corners of our childhood imaginations were about to be explored again. What could possibly go wrong?

Sunday, October 19, 2008

THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK


The Empire Strikes Back
1980
**** (out of 4)


If Star Wars showed what one man’s vision of a new kind of space opera could accomplish, The Empire Strikes Back was a testament to the power of teamwork and a slap in the face to the Auteur Theory (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auteur_Theory).

Star Wars broke all box office records, but as Empire went into production, George Lucas was not yet a mogul with the clout to dictate full creative control of the sequel without interference. What was then conceived as a nine film saga was dependant on the success of the follow up. In an astonishing confluence of luck and creative energy, a team of such immense talent was assembled, that the quality of the original was not only matched, but surpassed. I join the now consensus view that The Empire Strikes Back is the best of the Star Wars films.

As elaborated on in an earlier review, my appreciation for the original Star Wars knows no bounds, but even the most die hard fan must admit that the dialogue was not George Lucas’ strong suit (and it would sadly only get worse.) This would change, thanks to the hiring of screenwriter, Lawrence Kasdan, who went on to write Raiders of the Lost Ark and Return of the Jedi, along with subsequent directing credits for Body Heat, Silverado and Grand Canyon. As the resume indicates, Kasdan was an enormous talent in his own right and the proof is on the screen in Empire.

The primary beneficiary of this sharper focus on dialogue was Harrison Ford. In Star Wars, Ford’s Han Solo was a basic cowboy type, a worldly smuggler and anti-hero who perfectly contrasted with Mark Hamill’s naïve farm boy. More than any other character, Han Solo was fleshed out in Empire. Allowed to be sarcastic, funny and vulnerable all at the same time, it’s The Empire Strikes Back that made Harrison Ford a superstar (Raiders cemented the deal.)

In Empire, relationships between many characters are redefined by how they interact with Solo. Comic relief bits by Chewbacca, and particularly C-3PO, are funnier because Ford remains grounded in reality and we share his frustration as a grounded human coping with a universe of aliens and mystics. Then there’s the smartly handled romance between Solo and Leia. Ford and Carrie Fisher spar with each other in the best tradition of classic screwball comedies like The Awful Truth. Their chemistry is fully believable and adds to dramatic arch without feeling like a tacked on afterthought.

Continuing to credit Kasdan’s writing, we now turn to another Empire MVP, Frank Oz. Like Darth Vader, Yoda has become so familiar to us that it’s easy to take him for granted. Think though about the audacity of introducing a Muppet into the Star Wars universe. Had Yoda not been so perfectly designed and executed, he would have brought this movie down faster than you can say Jar Jar Binks.

Instead, Frank Oz took his already impressive Muppet repertoire to a higher level which, despite such efforts as The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, has yet to be matched to this day. From his introduction as a trickster to his embodiment of Jedi Master wisdom (and backward talk), Oz gives Yoda such a wide acting range that suspending our disbelief is surprisingly easy.

It’s more difficult to gage exactly how much credit to give director Irvin Kershner because none of his other films are terribly noteworthy. The collaborative nature of Empire and its distinctly darker tone would seem to hint that the Kershner played an important role in shaping the sequel.

As revolutionary as the special effects were in Star Wars, Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic topped themselves in every way possible. Empire featured three distinct environments – the snow planet of Hoth, Yoda’s swamplands of Dagobah and the Cloud City of the climax. All three are rendered both fantastic and fully believable.

The Empire Strikes Back set the gold standard for visual effects until the dawn of the digital age. Yet, while I’ll gladly recognize that today’s computer generated wonders are more elaborate, they have yet to achieve the realism of Empire’s models and green screens. Most effects are all about spectacle, but the best films use them to create atmosphere.

There’s another little detail about Empire that needs mentioning and might go under the category of spoiler alert if it were not so well known, but - by the way - DARTH VADER IS REVEALED TO BE LUKE SKYWALKER’S FREAKING FATHER!!!! Maybe the shock has worn off over the last 30 years but think back to when this little tidbit was first revealed, especially if you were a kid at the time. I think my 10-year-old head must have exploded. The power of this reveal is why kids today should be introduced to the Star Wars films by order of release, not episode number.

While the secret is now notable for providing the overriding story arch of all six films, at the time, it was a dramatic punch that led to a downbeat ending and a cliffhanger that would leave us hanging for another three years. It also raised the possibility that good characters had the potential to turn dark. Instead of a simple space opera, younger audiences were presented with more adult themes and a story that resonates on an emotional as well as a visceral level.

I’ll never forget the summer of 1980 when my friend Paul and I seemed to spend just about every weekend at the Golf Mill Theater (now an X-Sports gym). We probably saw Empire at least eight times on the big screen. If Star Wars initiated my love of film, Empire confirmed it. As an adult, I’ve seen many acclaimed and classic films, some of which may be better, but few of which would have as strong an effect on me. There would never again be a time in my life where only one film mattered, but in the summer of 1980, that film was The Empire Strikes Back.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

STAR WARS


Star Wars
1977
**** (out of 4)

Star Wars was not the first movie I ever saw. If memory serves (and it probably doesn’t) it was possibly Snow White & the Seven Dwarves, Charlotte’s Web, Benji, Snoopy Come Home or some similar children’s film. In any case I was too young to process them as anything more than instant gratification or appreciate them in any lasting way.

No, it was Star Wars that introduced me to the movies. My lifelong love of film is a direct result of George Lucas’ vision and, whatever cinematic sins he has committed since, I’m grateful for that. I was eight when I first saw Star Wars with my father. It was not during its initial 1977 run, but during the 1978 re-release that I saw it in full.

I had already been part of the marketing machine thanks to Kenner and its action figures and board games. Our family even has a silent film splice of the dog-fight sequence that was played on our old home projector for special occasions. By the time I saw Star Wars it was already part of my life as it was for my generation and the culture at large. It may be a nostalgic haze that brings me the conclusion that no movie event in my lifetime has ever reached the phenomenal heights of this one, but I doubt it.

I’m not going to pretend any of the following observations are original. Has any film ever had so much written about it? No, Star Wars is communal memory, but it’s also my memory and if I’m going to write about film, it has to start here.

That Star Wars has become communal memory was by design. George Lucas was famously a protégé of Joseph Campbell, an author and professor who specialized in the study of myths. Campbell’s book “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” put forward the notion that there are really only a small number of basic stories in the human memory and, over the span of time and culture, different generations have found new ways of retelling those stories. These basic myths are innate within us. How else to explain why so many similar tales are found among early peoples who could not have had contact with each other?

One basic myth is the hero’s quest. An innocent is faced with tragedy and seeks to persevere through the assistance of a wise mentor. After suffering defeat, he gathers the courage to defeat his enemies and achieve glory. Yes, this is the story of Luke Skywalker, but it is also the story of King Arthur and countless others. Lucas was unique in that he studied these concepts and sought to incorporate as many hardwired myths as possible in his saga.

What he added was the perspective that a film history background provided. He took the old Flash Gordon / Buck Rogers serials of the thirties with their simple heroics and cliffhangers and added a good does of Akira Kurosawa’s 1958 samurai classic, “The Hidden Fortress.” That film featured a Han Solo-ish samurai rescuing a princess with the help of two comic relief peasants not unlike our favorite droids. Any question of inspiration it literally swiped away as both films use the same swiping editing styles.

Another ingredient was, of course, the special effects. They may seem quaint by today’s standards, but they were revolutionary in 1977. Industrial Light & Magic, Lucas’ special effects team, made such advancements that they have remained ever since, the dominant leaders of their field in the movie industry. The great leap forward in model and matte technology was made almost ten years earlier for Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, but it was George Lucas who saw that spaceships and laser swords could be utilized for escapist entertainment outside the science fiction genre.

Make no mistake. Star Wars was not science fiction. In form, it was far closer to a Western or a Japanese samurai film. It did not take place in the future, but “a long time ago.” (myth again.) This decision emphasized the element I most love about the look of the film, ironically called the used future. If spaceships and robots had always been portrayed as sleek and shiny, in a used future they would be grimy and tend to break down. In a used future no Death Star would be complete without a trash compactor.

This may be why the image most deeply embedded in my mind is that of two droids wandering lost through the desert. It was not pure fantasy that fired my imagination, but the ideas of fantasy and reality colliding. The key was that the desert was real and the droids were provided with engaging personalities. I’m not sure this makes sense, but to my eight-year-old eyes, Star Wars was the most realistic film I had ever seen.

Another quality that made Star Wars special was its willingness not to over explain its universe and allow mysteries to fester in young minds. After all we didn’t know from sequels. Why did Obi-One disappear when seemingly killed by Vader? What was under those Jawa hoodies? Who were all those creatures in the cantina? Finally, what exactly was this “force” all about? What a shame it would have been if they had thrown some pseudo-science term at us to explain why some were strong with it (but that’s a subject for another review.)

Something else Star Wars had was gravitas. We children did not know Alec Guinness’ formidable film history, but it was implied in his performance as the wise old Ben Kenobi. You can’t fake that. John William’s unforgettable score is another example. Simple science fiction used whirling synthesizers, but here nothing short of a full orchestral march will do.

We children knew innately how utterly cool Darth Vader was. We may not have recognized the influence of medieval and samurai armor, but we sensed its primal imagery, just as we sensed the wonder of a farm boy looking up to a sky with two suns.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Forever Changes - Love (Album Review)


FOREVER CHANGES
LOVE
1967

I was playing Love’s Forever Changes album for a friend, describing it as a cornerstone of psychedelic rock, when she asked me a surprising but pertinent question. “What makes this music psychedelic?” I guess I was surprised because, to my ears, it just sounded so trippy, but I was at a loss for a proper definition and could only come up with, “Its rock music made in the late sixties that seems to be influenced by drugs and uses non-traditional instruments for rock ‘n’ roll."

After giving it further thought, I’m sticking with that definition. It may sound odd to limit a genre to its time period, but I can’t think of a truly psychedelic song that did not come out between 1966 and 1968. Sure, you can have contemporary artists mimic that sound and come up with a neo-psychedelia, but it’s just not the real thing.

One reason the music is so identified with its time is that it quickly evolved into progressive rock, which shares many of the same qualities, but is distinctly its own genre. Pink Floyd’s Piper’s at the Gates of Dawn was seminal phychedelia, but by Dark Side of the Moon, the sound had evolved into something more in line with prog rockers like Genesis (Peter Gabriel’s) and Queen than Sgt. Pepper or Surrealistic Pillow.

During the psychedelic period, there were generally two camps. Hard rockin’ garage psychedelic bands like The Electric Prunes and The 13th Floor Elevators tended to have very short careers, but listening to them in retrospect reveals an intense vitality, probably due to their not being around long enough to sound dated.

The more prominent albums can be classified as lush psychedelia, the best examples of which create truly beautiful soundscapes. Pet Sounds, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band and Forever Changes are solidly in this category. Revolver, which was The Beatles first contribution to this genre, had one foot in both camps. The Stones, The Who, The Beach Boys and especially The Beatles all had psychedelic periods, but all moved passed it after incorporating it into their larger style.

Love was the brainchild of African-American singer/songwriter, Arthur Lee, who, through the course of three albums, moved from garage psychedelia (of which their biggest single,“7 & 7 Is” is a great example) to the lush version and a defining moment in the genre that is Forever Changes.

Forever Changes may be the only example of a minimalist psychedelic album. The dominant instrument is always the acoustic guitar, which is brought forward in the mix whether during a straight ahead rocker, a soft ballad or a rich arrangement of strings and horns.

The album’s first song sets the scene for the proceedings. Alone Again Or, which is one of two songs on the album I’d heard previously, begins with a soft acoustic guitar joined by Lee’s folky vocals. A quivery violin is subtly added and than finally a Spanish sounding horn solo really kicks it up a notch before reverting to its softer beginnings. Unlike the Moody Blues, who backed themselves with a whole orchestra, Love never let’s the core band get left behind.

The second track, A House is Not a Motel, begins similarly, but grows into a straight ahead rocker with no flourishes. Andmoreagain (not a typo) is probably the most familiar song on the album and is representative of the beautiful melodic progressions that I believe surpasses Pet Sounds and approaches Sgt. Pepper level of greatness.

A song like Old Man takes its melody in surprisingly non-pop directions both musically and lyrically. “I know the old man would laugh - He spoke of love’s sweeter days - And in his eloquent way - I think he was speaking of you” offers the kind of honest sentimentality only The Kinks normally traffic in. At the same time, titles like The Good Humor Man He See’s Everything like this will be sure you don’t forget its 1967.

Forever Changes’ crowning achievement is its final song, You Set the Scene. Like The Who’s A Quick One, it’s one of the earliest examples of a mini-opera with three district sections. Lyrics about nothing less than the search for meaning to life and death join to such an infectious melody that I’m shocked it’s not better known. Only at the very end of this last song does the acoustic guitar finally disappear into a triumphant sea of horns.

So is it timeless or dated? Like the best psychedelic rock, it’s both. That Arthur Lee was not a household name at the time of his death a few years back may be a reflection of the bands short tenure, but the cult remains and new bands like The Polyphonic Spree and Arcade Fire still show the influence of Forever Changes.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Not So Funny Games






So I guess they’ve gone ahead and remade Funny Games. As it’s supposed to be a faithful, almost identical, remake of the 1997 Austrian film from its original director, it’s not something I’d want to see. I hated the original Funny Games, not because it was a bad movie, but because it was insulting to me, as a viewer. It’s a film that made me mad at its makers, which is a very rare reaction, but one I think is interesting enough to explore here.

What could elicit such a negative response? Again, being a bad movie doesn’t do it. I wasn’t mad at the people who made Battlefield Earth. They were idiots for making it and I was an idiot for watching it. Problem solved. (Funniest Jon Stewart line – “Battlefield Earth was kind of a cross between Star Wars and the smell of ass.”)

I’m also not going to get mad simply by being shown offensive images. The reason John Waters’ Pink Flamingos doesn’t bother me is because I will never see it. How can I be so closed minded, you might ask? Well, it’s because I’ve read about it, and at the end, a drag queen eats dog shit. For real! You see it coming out of the dog’s anus and being scooped into his/her mouth. I love all kinds of movies, but I can go through my whole life without ever seeing someone eating either shit, real or synthetic. This is a rule. If the next Scorsese movie shows shit being eaten, count me out. This does not apply to something that may look like shit, but is, say, a candy bar (heretofore referred to as the Caddyshack exemption.)

No, a movie that makes me mad will more likely be made by a talented filmmaker. All the films below have a degree of talent and creativity involved. They would not be worth discussing otherwise. My question is, to what end is this talent being used? The following reviews contain SPOILERS, but that’s OK, cause you probably don’t want to see them anyway.

Funny Games

A mother, father and young son are tortured and murdered by two psychotic intruders. The end. For most of its running time, Funny Games plays as a conventional thriller. Think Panic Room. The baddies are young punks who view their sadism as a kind of public art.

A little more than halfway through, an interesting thing happens. One of the villains breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience. When asked why he doesn’t simply kill the family, he answers something to the effect of - "we don’t want to end the movie this soon." We, as an audience, are now implicated as participants in these funny games.

Intriguing, but having brought us in, director Michael Haneke, makes it clear that we are not welcome. We, who had hoped to be put in suspense by a quality thriller, are now subjected to mindless violence. Its not that there’s an unreasonable level of gore, it’s just that a key convention of a good thriller is that the potential victims have a fighting chance.

I’m not against violence on film. Some of my favorite films are violent. I’m not against bleak endings. When earned, they can be very powerful. This is how Funny Games ends: The mother gets hold of a gun and shoots one of the assailants. The other picks up a remote control, rewinds the film we are watching to before she gets the gun and proceeds to slaughter the rest of the family.

The message here seems to be that we, the audience, should be held accountable as a party to this carnage. Didn’t we go to this movie as voyeurs to see some mayhem? Well, this will show us. Haneke has made a film for which the only proper reaction is to never have seen it. I, for one, will react properly for the remake.


Bamboozled

Spike Lee is a director whose films I admire and whose politics I oppose. To oversimplify the dichotomy set up in his best film, Do the Right Thing, he chooses Malcolm X and I choose MLK. He may have, kind of, sort of come out against interracial dating in Jungle Fever and he definitely used anti-Semitic caricatures in Mo’Better Blues, but his artistic skill cannot be denied with such wonderful films as School Daze, The 25th Hour and, of course, Do the Right Thing, which I believe is a masterpiece despite disagreeing with its conclusions.

Then there’s Bamboozled. Lee’s take on the minstrel entertainment personified by such racist stereotypes as Amos & Andy. The film ends with a very effective montage of so many of the real life degrading imaging that have for too long disparaged black culture. It would have been a fine short, had it began and ended there.

Unfortunately, before this mini-documentary, Lee chooses to criticize the offensive minstrels by creating one himself. Damon Waynes plays a sell-out TV executive with the most bizarre vocal inflections. Fellow In Living Color alumnus, Tommy Davidson, is the African-American actor who performs in blackface for a modern day update called “Mantan: The New Millennium Minstrel Show.”

The content of the show is too offensive to describe in detail, but let’s just say the KKK would be proud. I understand what Spike was trying to do. We’re supposed to recoil from the TV material, but his failure is not contrasting the horrid programming with some behind the scenes drama and a sympathetic character or two. It could have harkened back to Network, but instead, the movie itself becomes exactly what it despises.

He could also have followed in the footsteps of Mel Brooks or South Park and taken the material to such an extreme that we’d be brought to understanding through laughter. Unfortunately, Bamboozled is too goofy to be taken seriously as drama and in no way funny enough to be considered a comedy. All we’re left with is a reminder of a painful experience through a direct recreation of that experience.


Storytelling

Todd Solodnz is a director of films about unpleasant people doing unpleasant things to each other and themselves. His debut, Welcome to the Dollhouse, was about a nerdy 13-year-old girl whose only friend is a boy she hopes will follow through on his promise to rape her, although neither seems to understand what that word means. This is Solondz’ most watchable film. His follow-up, Happiness, brings us an Altmanesque array of horrible people we don’t want to know, personified by a friendly child molester.

Storytelling is not one, but two tales of misery. The first subtitled “Fiction” and the second, “Non-Fiction.” Between them no racial, religious or sexual taboo is left unexplored. Take Selma Blair’s college English student in “Fiction” whose boyfriend has cerebral palsy and who proceeds to seduce her African-American English professor. Not that he needs much convincing.

Two things are notable about the sex scene that follows. One is that, because its kinda rough sex, it had to be censored to get an R rating. The director’s solution is to put a GIANT red box over both bodies to hit home the point that this film hasn’t just been censored, it’s been CENSORED. (Points for Solondz.) The other bit you can’t miss is that the professor humiliates his student by forcing her to yell racial slurs that made me think I was back to watching Bamboozled. (Points deducted.)

In “Non-fiction,” Paul Giamatti is a documentary filmmaker whose wants to study the ideal American family. It was not a surprise when all are revealed to be petty, cruel, hypocritical and generally unpleasant (including the kids!) Most notable is the young boy who treats their Hispanic maid as slave labor.

The bonus to Storytelling is that it acts as its own critic. The Giamatti character’s film is criticized for the same sins that Solondz himself is accused of, namely that he hates his characters. In both the film within a film and the movie itself, these accusations are true. Should the director get points because he’s willing to state openly exactly why his film is bad? I’d say no.

Instead watch…

So as not to end on too sour a note, I would like to recommend three films that also tackle unpleasant and controversial issues. They’re not fun, but they will make you ponder some very dark questions. The differences to those reviewed above come down to one thing, respect for the audience.

In the Company of Men – A very disturbing look at misogyny. Most guys know and many women suspect that there is a darker side to sexual power (that’s power, not prowess) than mainstream romances are willing to recognize. Sometimes psychological brutality can look as ugly as the physical.

Bad Lieutenant – Misogyny is only one of Harvey Keitel’s many vices in this look at a drug dealing, perverse police officer. Keitel is both literally and figuratively naked in a performance of devastating sorrow. How this ends up being one of the most religious movies ever made, I will leave you to discover

Manderlay – Lars Von Trier’s sequel to Dogville is part of this American Trilogy (the third has not yet been released.) Von Trier, who has never been the U.S. is openly hostile towards America, but his attacks are precise and thought provoking. Manderlay is a small town where slavery was never abolished. You may think you know where he’s going with this. You don’t.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Favorite Films of 2007






5) THERE WILL BE BLOOD

2007 saw two of the most effective displays of cinematic evil since Hannibal Lecter's debut. First was Javier Bardem's chilling assassin in the Coen Brother's critical favorite, No Country for Old Men. It was an intense and even Oscar worthy performance in a dark thriller with artistic pretensions. The dark thriller was exceptional. The artistic pretensions were not. Bardem's menace was made abstract and not helped by an ending that was not simply ambiguous, but non-existent (a strange trend this year shared by the otherwise great Before the Devil Knows Your Dead.)

So while the evil represented in No Country, ends up in the same vein as Halloween's Michael Myers, There Will Be Blood is a study of a more human evil given cold blooded personification by the equally Oscar worthy Daniel Day Lewis. These two films have been much compared due to their bleakness (and striking visions of the American Western landscape), but for me, There Will Be Blood is the better film. The Coen Brother's used bleakness in a clever and nihilistic way. Paul Thomas Anderson lets his story and characters dictate the tone.

This is quite a departure for Anderson, whose ensemble dramas, Boogie Nights and Magnolia, were clearly influenced by his mentors, Altman and Scorsese (this is meant as a compliment). There Will Be Blood, on the other hand, is a period piece about the early days of oil drilling and focuses on one character, Daniel Day Lewis's complex and gritty prospector, Daniel Plainview. It's not reminiscent of Anderson's previous work and you never question that you're in a desolate oil drenched hellhole in the first years of the 20th century.

This is one hell of a performance from Day Lewis! He plays the personification of greed and selfishness and somehow manages to be both over the top and scarily authentic. While I was impressed by his cartoon villainy in Gangs of New York, here his range reached back towards Robert DeNiro in Scorsese's Taxi Driver, allowing us to see the hate slowly brewing. It is an accomplishment that the emotional violence is rendered just as intense as the physical violence.


4) SWEENEY TODD

The crowd that I saw Sweeney Todd with seemed evenly divided between fans of Sondheim's acclaimed musical and devotees of the works of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. I belong to the later category. Some audience members were so perplexed when it became apparent that most of the dialogue would be sung that there were a few walk outs. Trailers and promotional materials gave the uninitiated no clue that they were in for a full fledged musical.

I had seen two earlier versions of Sweeney Todd. First, an "in concert" version with Patti LuPone and George Hearn; followed by a grainy video of the original Broadway production. I was not a fan. It was difficult to appreciate Sondheim's score as the songs were not memorable and seemed to bleed into each other without dramatic effect.

Yet I love this new version. Tim Burton has perfected and, frankly improved upon, the gothic style of those old Vincent Price and Hammer horror films. After less interesting forays into the light, (Big Fish / Charlie & the Chocolate Factory) Burton is home in Halloweentown where the line between black comedy and bloody horror is as thin as a razor's edge.

Johnny Depp, as always, creates an unforgettable character in the morose, revenge driven Todd. The treat here is how Helena Bonham Carter matches him step by step. The scene where she imagines them as a family at the beach is a classic because of despite her unbridled optimism, even in her fantasies, Depp's grim pallor never breaks. This sequence alone is worth the ticket price.

I still don't get the Sondheim music though, except that Burton has provided a new context to appreciate it. The songs in this "musical" act in the same way an orchestral score would in a normal movie. When Depp is singing a love song to his razor, it doesn't matter that I can't remember the melody. (Trust me - there are no "Music of the Nights".) What matters is that he's using the songs to further his performance and make his madness even more palpable.

When the score itself takes over and we get a reverse zoom outside the demon barber's window, there we have some real movie magic. Black magic, of course.


3) JUNO

Well into 2008, I must be one of the last movie-buffs to jump on the bandwagon, but true is true and Juno really is a wonderful film. I knew it was the big indie hit of the year and I expected something in the spirit of a better than average crowd pleaser like Little Miss Sunshine. Juno surpasses that and reaches Amelie levels of lovability. That is does so while being laugh out loud funny and with attitude to spare makes it even more of an accomplishment.

While the acting, directing and music are all top notch, it is first time writer and deserved Oscar winner Diablo Cody who shines brightest with cliché-free script featuring the most memorable dialogue this side of Tarantino. A former stripper, Cody is clearly not of the movie industry. We can all guess how Hollywood might treat a pregnant teen, her family and friends, but Cody allows her characters the freedom to act as full blooded people might, not the cutout characters that usually populate teen comedies.

Take Bleeker, the father of Juno’s child. Both a nerd and a jock, he plays shy in a way I haven’t seen before. And it’s funny. Potential adoptive parents played by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner have their own story arch that again combines truth and laughs. Bateman, in particular, underplays his generational angst just right.

Ellen Page is perfect as Juno. There’s been some criticism that teenagers don’t really talk in the witty dialogue style that dominates the film. I’m sure they don’t, but neither do adults speak as they do in better scripts. The truth is that teens do speak their own language and if its not as smart as Diablo Cody thinks it is, its their loss and Juno’s gain.


2) I'M NOT THERE


There is only one thing I know about Bob Dylan, that he's a storyteller. His storytelling is not limited to his peerless songwriting category, but also reveals itself in interviews and public appearances. Here is a man who refuses to be defined. When reporters, documentarians and Dylanologists attempts to do so, he tells more stories, or, to put it less charitably, he lies. Though it's not always obvious in what way.

There is one thing I know about Todd Haynes' Dylan biopic, I'm Not There. It's that it is not a Dylan biopic. His stories and legends are the canvas Haynes is working with, but, like Citizen Kane, the film is actually about the contradiction of trying to sum up a life in a two hour film. That six actors play Dylan representations is not a gimmick in trying to discover the enigma of Bob Dylan. It is the point of this daring and thought provoking film.

A young African-American boy named Marcus Cark Franklin plays "Woody Guthrie." Though the real Guthrie was well known to be a major influence on Dylan, those looking for realism will note that it is unlikely that Dylan was a freight train riding black kid. It is also highly doubtful that he was swallowed by a whale. These sequences work because I'm Not There is as much about the Bob Dylan myth as the man.

Equally surreal is Richard Gere's appearance as "Billy the Kid" to represent Dylan's current incarnation. In reality, he's still performing and writing vital music, but he's not part of any current musical movement and not the celebrity idol he once was. The Gere sequence shows Dylan as a man comfortable in his own skin, but not of his own time.

One might imagine that he's rather see himself as an aging outlaw than the highly unlikable version portrayed by Heath Ledger as "Robbie Clark," arrogant movie star and failed family man. Christian Bale plays folk singer turned born again revivalist, "Jack Rollins" and Ben Whishaw is "Arthur Rimbaud" elusive interview subject.

The most dynamic performance however belongs to Cate Blanchett who, as "Jude Quinn" has one of the most shocking and memorable entrances in recent film memory. Blanchett erases all questions of gender by embodying the version of Dylan that we think we know best, the 1965 era superstar who revolutionized the folk and rock world by going electric. She also embodies Dylan's caustic orneriness when dealing with the press.

As director, Todd Haynes weaves all these disparate elements into a coherent narrative that takes wonderful advantage of Dylan's song catalog and perfectly mimics the look of its various eras. One need not be a Bob Dylan fan to appreciate the remarkable achievement that is I'm Not There (though you'd get some of the inside references) because, as the title alludes, it's not really about one man, but all of us.


1) BLACK SNAKE MOAN

When I Netflixed Black Snake Moan, I was expecting a sleazy exploitation flick that might offer some cheap laughs and titillation. I was not, I repeat, NOT expecting to witness a great film that would become my top pick of the year. The promotional poster was of a half naked Christina Ricci chained to an ornery old Samuel L. Jackson for pete sake!

The amazing this about this film is that it does, in fact, succeed as cheap exploitation, but it does so much more. First off, it's a filmed blues song. If I can't quite articulate what that means, it's because I've never seen it done before, but all the musical and lyrical elements of those old Robert Johnson, Howlin' Wolf or Muddy Waters records have been dramatized.

Sam Jackson is wonderful as the disillusioned old blues singer. Praising Jackson is redundant considering that he is invariably great in all his roles regardless off the movie surrounding him. He is the most watchable actor on film today and has himself claimed that this is his best acting work (though I still vote for Pulp Fiction.)

What Christina Ricci does, however, will knock your socks off! I've always found it an annoying cliché when actresses are described as "brave" for taking on nudity or overt sexuality (Sorry Halle Berry, you didn't really deserve that Oscar). I have only seen two instances where this description is accurate; Jodi Foster in The Accused and Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan. She takes on her nymphomaniac hellion with an unexpected fierceness that dominates the film and everything in it.

Even the previously hated Justine Timberlake turns in a fine performance as the boyfriend plagued by panic attacks.

There is a fantastic sequence where Jackson comforts Ricci by singing the title song during the kind of thunderstorm that can only take place in a blues song. By this point, I realized that this little exploitation flick has become a highly moral love story that's alive and pulsing on the screen.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Archive '07 - Hillary for President (Political Opinion)


A number of observations came to mind while watching the Democratic candidates in last week's CNN/YouTube debate:

* It really wasn't so revolutionary. CNN narrowed the video questions out of thousands to the one's they wanted to see asked. I don't think any questions were asked that would not have been in a traditional debate.

* Of course, the way they were asked was different. Singing the questions, costumes and snowman puppets - Not sure how any of that adds to our democracy.

* Dennis Kusinich must've been thrilled to have Mike Gravel participating. It's the first time Dennis has ever shared the stage with someone crazier than he is (and what's more entertaining than an angry old man yelling at everyone?)

But on to the main event, Hillary vs. Barack. I've been backing Hillary Clinton for a few months now, ever since I shrewdly realized that my buddy, Joe Biden, has about as much a chance of being elected as I do. Being from Illinois, Barack is all the rage, but his lack of experience concerns me. That concern was justified when he was asked the question of whether he would meet with the world's most evil dictators. His answer was that talking was not a sign of weakness, which is true enough. But Hillary's point that automatically agreeing to Presidential summits without preconditions or lower level preparation talks could provide our enemies with ample opportunity to take advantage or score PR points at our expense. That is the correct answer.

Hillary Clinton's experience and clear thinking about world affairs has been on display throughout the campaign and I believe she is our best hope for getting our country out of the mess its in. In a field where the vast majority of candidates are falling over themselves to pander to the far left, Hillary's strong centrist worldview shows that we don't have to choose between the authoritarian tendencies of the Bush administration and retreating from our responsibility to win the War on Terror. (John Edwards said that The War on Terror was nothing more than a meaningless slogan, which cost him any chance at my vote.)

Hilary has been right all along on Iraq. Now that Bush's deplorable handling of the war has put us into an awful quagmire, it's difficult to see why the vast majority of Democrats initially supported it. Not just because of weapons of mass destruction. Saddam Hussein's brutality toward his own people, threat to his neighbors and support for terrorism were well established. He has nothing to do with 9/11, but was a major part of the violent Islamist extremist movement that also spawned Al Qaeda ("But Iraq did not attack us on 9/11!" many say. Well, Germany didn't bomb Pearl Harbor, but nobody regrets that we went after them.)

This argument would be conventional wisdom had George Bush and his cronies not mucked it up every step of the way. A definitive victory in Iraq would have made it an example of the success of democracy in a region that knows so little. Victory, however, requires developing contingency plans and not underestimating your opponent. Colin Powell had it right when he said you only go to war with overwhelming force and a clear exit strategy.

Yet we know what happened. Bush only listened to advice he wanted to hear. He did not trust the American people enough to be truthful about our initial reasons for being there and has such meager communication skills that he cannot make the case for why we need to win. Now, with a civil war erupting, things have gotten so bad we may not be able to win. What should have been one front in the War on Terror has diverted our resources away from other possibly more important fronts (Iran, Bin Laden). Bush is further diverted by the Nixonian corruption and secrecy permeating throughout his White House.

All this is to point out that Hillary Clinton is now right again. If we cannot win in Iraq, we must work on an exit strategy to get out. Thankfully, she won't pander to the loony left by promising an immediate withdrawal. Leaving carelessly would be as much a disaster as going in carelessly.

Those who don't like Hillary call her calculating, but don't we want a President who can think a few moves ahead? Watching that debate last week, Hillary Clinton came out at the smartest and toughest in the bunch. She's even starting to become more engaging and likable (but she ought to keep Bill with her just to be safe.) Barring any major missteps, I believe she is our next President, which may be exactly what we need.

Archive '07 - LOST in Tubeland


I spent this Sunday night not watching the Emmys. Well, I'm lying a bit. I watched the first ten minutes, during which time some Family Guy cartoon characters did a musical number about how much TV sucks. This was followed by the host (some pasty bland guy from American Idol) who made the quite accurate point that he could not fill the shoes of his predecessors. At this point I came to my senses and turned off the TV.

After checking out some results online, I do regret though that I missed seeing my favorite current television actor awarded. Lost is my favorite show (maybe of all time! I'm not kidding.) and a big part of that is Terry O'Quinn's consistently fascinating performance as John Locke. At some point, I hope to post my theories about Lost, but the bottom line is, I believe Locke is the key to the show.

This is all colored by the fact that I don't really watch TV. OK, I'm lying again. I watch movies and news shows all the time, but to keep from having no life at all, I really only watch one series show regularly at a time. I realize I'm missing out on a lot because of this, but choices must be made. I've never seen an episode of ER for example and I like George Clooney!

Right now and for the foreseeable future, it's Lost. It started out as a fun mystery thriller, but this last season has been amazing, revealing depths that could never have been guessed at the beginning. Can't wait for Season 4 in January!

Just for fun, I'm thinking of what preceded Lost as the ONE show I watched. In approximate reverse order they were The West Wing, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Sopranos, South Park and Seinfeld. For the record, I vote All in the Family as the best all time sitcom.

Speaking of awards shows, I'm jazzed that Jon Stewart will be back hosting the Oscars next year. If they could just have him alternate with Steve martin every year, we'd be set.

Archive '06 - Favorite Films of 2006










5) BORAT – This one just came out of nowhere. I'd never even heard of Sacha Baron Cohen's Kazakhstani reporter character or seen Da Ali G Show, but I was intrigued by the glowing reviews Borat was getting. They were well deserved. This is the funniest film I've seen since the South Park movie. Cohen interacts with mostly unsuspecting real Americans who are told that this foreign journalist is trying to learn about American culture. What they are not told is that Borat is ignorant, anti-Semitic, homophobic and not quite toilet trained.

Aside from the laughs, Borat is one of the more politically pointed films on the subject of intolerance and bigotry, specifically anti-Semitism. Cohen is Jewish and delights in mocking the most outrageous stereotypes of Jew hatred. For me the most powerful statements on this subject have come from hysterical comedies. In this, Borat belongs on a list with Blazing Saddles and All in the Family.


4) BRICK – The first 2006 film I saw was Brick, which is kind of an inverse of another fine film, The Good German, the last film I caught this year. The Good German is filmed with the black and white look and style of a 1940's film noir. Brick is filmed with a contemporary look, but the performances and plotting echo that classic noir period. It's about a high school outsider who gets caught up in drug deals gone wrong and violent double crosses.

But Joseph Gordon-Levitt (the kid from 3rd Rock From the Sun) plays the role as if he was Humphrey Bogart in The Maltese Falcon. Not an imitation – he succeeds in channeling the spirit of Sam Spade. Sure enough, the high school is filled with femme fatales, tough hoods and slimy villains with nicknames like "The Pin." The result is movie buff heaven.


3) HEART OF GOLD - Jonathan Demme's Neil Young concert film, Heart of Gold, is the best concert movie since The Talking Heads' Stop Making Sense back in 1984. It's probably not a coincidence that the earlier film was also directed by Jonathon Demme. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that Demme be required to direct all future concert films, because his camera has a way making music performances immediate and cinematic like no other director. It doesn't hurt that his subject is one of the all time greats of rock n roll, Neil Young. While Young can rock hard enough to be nicknamed "The Godfather of Grunge," here he's in his acoustic folk/country mode.

The first half of the concert is most of his latest album, Prairie Wind, his strongest in years. Having been diagnosed with a brain tumor that he has since recovered from, Young wrote with the passion of someone who felt he might not have much time left. The second half is devoted to tracks from the similarly styled albums Harvest, Comes a Time and Harvest Moon. Aside from Bob Dylan, Neil Young is the only aging rock star who has embraced getting older as a part of his music. The result sounds more vital than most artists less than half his age.


2) THE DEPARTED – Of course I was rooting for Martin Scorsese to win the directing Oscar for Gangs of New York or The Aviator. These were fine films, but the win would have been to right the injustice of his being passed over for his holy trinity of masterpieces: Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and Goodfellas. If he finally wins for The Departed, it won't a career award, it will be because he's returned to gritty form with a vengeance.

Like Alfred Hitchcock's thrillers or Woody Allen's dramadies, all Martin Scorsese's gangster films are kind of the same and kind of not. "Gimme Shelter" may be back but Jack Nicholson has replaced Robert DeNiro, the Irish replaced the Italians, cops are given a closer look than in previous films and the story is based on a Japanese thriller. This, plus a healthy dose of humor, are all like new instruments in Scorsese's hands.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon give career best performances and it's been over twenty years since Nicholson's been this good.


1) UNITED 93 - United 93 is not an enjoyable or entertaining film in the traditional sense. It is, however an important one. It looks at 9/11 with a clear unflinching eye. There's none of the distracting sub-plots or flourishes that trivialized Olver Stone's World Trade Center. Using only information available from cell phone records and ground control eyewitnesses, director Paul Greengrass coldly and accurately recreates the events of that horrible morning.

For me, at least, it brought back many of the feelings I had on 9/11 itself. This film is almost unbearably intense, but because we know how it must end, that tension is not released with suspense. The only comparable film equivalent I can think of is Schindler's List.

One sign of United 93's authenticity, is the fact that the airport personnel on the ground were not actors, but the actual participants playing themselves. by choosing to focus on the one 9/11 attack in which the victims resisted and fought back, Greengrass does provide a glimmer of hope along with the sadness and horror. I was initially very skeptical that a 9/11 film could be made that was not exploitive. Sometimes it's good to be proven wrong.



While I'm at it, I may as well note what I consider the worst film of 2006: Superman Returns. Here are ten reasons it was such an utter disappointment:

1) The new Superman is just doing a Christopher Reeve impersonation.
2) It's nice that they found a beautiful actress to play Lois. It would have been nicer if they found one who could act or be even a little believable as a reporter.
3) The guy from X-Men who played Lois' boyfriend added nothing to the movie
4) Adding a kid to a story that absolutely does not need a kid is a sign of desperation.
5) What's with the whole Superman as Jesus analogy?
6) The entire premise of the film is based on Superman having been gone to find fragments of his old planet. No details are given regarding this mission, which means no thought was given to it and was just a manipulative plot device.
7) "Truth, justice and all that other stuff."? - It's "The American Way" you douchebags!!! Just cause you're trying to pander to an international market doesn't mean you fuck with a classic catchphrase.
8) Very liberal use of the old John Williams score and Marlon Brando outtakes from the first film. There's a fine line between homage and rip off.
9) Luthor's plan is to create earthquake like natural disasters. Gee, that sounds familiar.
10) Superman 1 and 2 exist. They are great movies and if more respect had been paid to why they succeeded, the rest of the sequels may not have sucked so bad.