60's Reverie

Both in music and on film, there’s something definitely happening here. Between the pop-psychedelic sounds of bands such as Animal Collective (Beach Boys meets Pink Floyd) and the more straight-forward 60’s tinged rock of Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros, Camera Obscura and King Khan, the 60’s are in full swing and littering our modern cultural landscape. Two recent films, “Taking Woodstock” and “Inglourious Basterds”, also recall the swinging 60’s in tone and tongue-in-cheek ‘hipness‘. I guess the 70’s retro hangover is finished and we’ve all gone hurtling back to peace and love. Or did all of this begin in the late 90’s when tie-dye and the peace symbol made a roaring comeback?

Of the two films mentioned, Ang Lee’s “Taking Woodstock” is the direct link to the 1960’s. Tackling the mammoth cultural event that was Woodstock in 1969, Lee’s film starts out large and scatter shot, then gently narrows it focus on the nuclear family and the generational gap that divides young Elliot (Demetri Martin) and his Jewish-immigrant parents played by (an over-the-top) Imelda Staunton and Henry Goodman. At times kitschy and wholly unbelievable, Elliot is little more than a cypher of his times. Due to the placement of his parent’s dilapidated motel in upstate New York and his own role as the head of the Chamber of Commerce, he is the catalyst for a group of hippies being displaced in town after town to put together their live concert. Motivated partly out of economic hardships and mostly out of Elliot’s own discomfort with his sexuality, Woodstock is finally given a home just two miles from him. History is condensed and tweaked- for example in one short walk to the festival, Elliot (and the audience) are given visuals of a guy holding up a sign that says “Please show up Bon Dylan”, the three nuns who flash a peace symbol for a camera, and a cop with a flower placed gently into the visor of his helmet. All the iconic images of three days of peace and music are given lip service in a 90 second single take. All that’s left is for Elliot to walk by the young couple wrapped up in a blue blanket. Regardless of Lee and screenwriter James Schamus’ commercialised ploy to wrap everything into a tidy, uncomplicated bow, “Taking Woodstock” does work as a film though.


As the film’s focus shifts away from Woodstock to the odd coming of age of Elliot, it elicits some honest emotion, especially in one scene between Martin and his father. Liev Schreiber, in a role as a sort of transvestite guardian angel, adds immense generosity in a role that could have easily been played for straight laughs throughout. Even though “Taking Woodstock” wants to be a modern time capsule for the late 60’s (which, honestly, the original “Woodstock” documentary already encapsulates) it should mostly be remembered as yet another strong Ang Lee character piece about a young man struggling with his own identity.

Less successful in its attempts to mar the genres, sounds and sensibilities of the 1960's is another hollow pastiche by Quentin Tarantino. Yes, even though the film does take place during World War 2, the film’s magnificent opening (which it never quite recovers from) distinctly places us in the world of Sergio Leone and his spaghetti westerns. And the finale (the second strongest portion of the movie) plays out like a fevered exploitation film that would feel right at home in the canon of Jesus Franco. It’s just everything else in the middle that wears out its welcome. Tarantino is obviously in love with the written word, but as in “Deathproof”, it’s his bloated screenplay that sucks the life away from any cinematic momentum in “Inglourious Basterds”. In his vain attempts to transpose the exploitative aspects of 60’s cinema (scribbled, crashing opening titles and vintage Universal logo) there’s no real zap of originality. I have no doubt that Tarantino has something truly unique in him, and when he creates that film- a film completely free of the pseudo homage and lip service to every worn out/wacko VHS movie he watched back in that Los Angeles video store- then it’ll really be a trailblazer. But, until then, “Inglourious Basterds” will remain a hazy throwback to the 60’s that marginally entertains.

Top 5 List: Great Film Scores Post '90

5. Public Enemies (2009 dir. Michael Mann/Elliot Rosenthal composer)

Sure, this was released just a few months ago, but the soundtrack has already become a staple spin on my Ipod. Mann has always had a great predilection for sweeping, epic music with a bit of electronica thrown in by Moby or Mogwai for good measure... and with "Public Enemies", he turs the spotlight back onto his regular composer, Elliot Rosenthal who churns out a terrific score.




4. 25th Hour (2002 dir. Spike Lee/composer Terence Blanchard)

Another film that benefits from a lasting relationship between director and composer, Blanchard continually brings something moving and fresh to every Lee film. Working from a very emotional place, Blanchard manages to create a genuinely moving companion to the film's story without sounding maudlin or manipulative.





3. Wonderland (1999, dir. Michael Winterbottom/Michael Nyman composer)

The next two slots belong to the same composer- Brit Michael Nyman- who, for a while, seemed to have his hand in just about everything. From his eclectic scores to many Peter Greenaway films to his more commercial vehicles (such as "The Piano") in the 90's, Nyman is a real adventurer. Alot of his pieces sound similiar and there's a striking avant garde experimentation that's downright exciting. In his collaborations with Michael Winterbottom, Nyman strikes an especially resounding chord in "Wonderland", shaping theme music for each charatcer in this merry-go-round group as they deal with life, love and family.




2. Gattaca (1997, dir. Andrew Niccol/Michael Nyman composer)

Seeing "Gattaca" in a sparsely attended theater in late '96 after reading the rave reviewed applied by critic Andrew Sarris, I felt I was in the presence of young greatness. Well, director Andrew Niccol hasn't lived up to those lofty expectations, but Nyman's soundtrack does. Elegant, mournful and perfect for the pristine environment of the movie, it also elevates the emotions as Ethan Hawke finally lifts off from Earth.




1. Requiem For a Dream (2000, dir. Darren Aronofsky/Clint Mansell and the Kronos Quartet)

Long before this piece of music became the spliced together sound for every trailer or forthcoming movie clip, it was a heartbreaking wall of music- simple, refined, then suddenly violent. I could listen to it over and over.... if only it didn't depress me so much. Still, any piece of music that can instill that much power has gotta be doing something right.

Why Being A Cinephile (and blogger) Matters

Piper over at Lazy Eye Theatre recently tagged me for one of these crazy memes going around. The question, initially posed at Cinema Styles is why does being a cinephile matter? Not a Democrat, or Republican, or liberal... but the only thing that really seems to give me calm these days- a lover of movies. A few things I've learned in the past 3 years since starting this humble little word space:

1. My love for movies like "Laws of Gravity" or "Wonderland" continues to grow each and every time I recommend it to someone on a blog.

2. The world is a supremely connected place. I've communicated with friends far and wide.... been given previously unavailable movies out of the goodness of a cinephile's own heart.... and discovered a few titles here and there. Conversely, my Netflix queue will probably never get below 200.

3. I love the Pandora's box that opens up through blogs. One site leads to another... and another that invests its time only in obscure 70's VHS box covers... and another dedicated solely to reviewing spy films.... and yet another that features an interview with some obscure 60's character actor. The universe is endless with possibilities.

4. Sometimes, a blogger says (and means) more in 100 words than any film critic with 2000 words can muster.

5. And, most importantly, its just nice to connect with so many people on a basic level of shared enthusiasm and divergent viewpoints. Whether the blogs go the way of the old newsboards or not, I don't know. But for right now, they're here and they matter to me.

70's Bonanza: The Molly Maguires

From the film's opening ten minutes, I knew I was in for a very under appreciated treat with director Martin Ritt's "The Molly Maguires". The place is Pennsylvania and the time is 1874 when coal mining was the chief employment of the hordes of immigrants who landed on the East Coast and ventured into the more melancholy parts of the country. Aided by James Wong Howe's evocative, textured cinematography, Ritt initiates his film with slow, contemplative zooms as it follows a coal haul out of the mine and up its wooden tracks. A wordless eight minutes pass as the camera finds a group of men diligently working in the shafts below until a whistle blows. Four of the men (including leader of the pack Sean Connery) quickly break apart and set dynamite blocks around the mine before they light the fuse. They then casually wait for their cart ride out of the mine and slowly proceed down a muddy dirt road as Howe's camera faithfully glides in front, leading the way. By this time, the nerves are frazzled at the film's deliberate pace when we know explosions will pierce the air at any moment. It's a great opening that exemplifies the film's patience and devious ambiguity about the Molly Maguire's terrorist attempts borne out of downtrodden treatment.

The "devious ambiguity" mentioned above comes in the form of Pennsylvania detective James McParlan (a steely eyed Richard Burton) who goes undercover in the mines to infiltrate the Molly Maguires. Complicating matters is his own Irish pride. McParlan himself understands the tremendous invisibility of his people in this new land and in some small, unwritten ways, director Ritt and screenwriter Walter Bernstein create a tenuous relationship between McParlan and Jack Kehoe (Connery) as two sides to the same person.. a person that long ago took divergent steps in life but could easily morph into the other's life at any given moment. Two confidently, fleshed out performances, Connery and Burton have never been better. And the scene between them in the end registers with truth and complexity.


Like many films released in the early 70's, there's a residual 60's hangover- a feeling of (sometimes) safe studio production values and status quo stuffiness. Released in 1970, "The Molly Maguires" has a definitively gritty 70's feel. From its greasy, earthy tones (which must have certainly influenced P.T. Anderson for his modern epic "There Will Be Blood") to its warm, candle-lit interiors, there's nothing stuffy about it. The anger seems real. The careful relationship that forms between Burton and landlord Samantha Egger hovers realistically throughout the film. The unease that percolates amongst the Molly Maguires and their eventual acceptance of McParlan ranks with the best of the "undercover cop" themes. It's a well formed, evocative movie that hits every intended mark. My only question- why doesn't this thing get more attention? It certainly deserves it.

Produced and Abandoned #3

A few more titles that deserve to see the light of day on region 1 DVD:

1. The Shout (1978)- Available on a region 2 Spanish edition, Jerry Skolimowski's late 70's film sounds eerily impressive: "A madman eccentric convinces a married couple that he can kill by shouting". Skolimowski has scored recently with his latest film, "Four Nights With Anna" on the festival circuit, so maybe some of his older releases will receive some love.
2. Chaotic Ana (2006)- I've heard pretty terrible things about this film, but I absolutely love the work of Spanish director Julio Medem and I'd love to evaluate this work for itself. A few festival screenings have popped up here and there, but other than that, "Chaotic Ana" is MIA.
3. JeTaime, JeTaime (1974)- For me Alain Resnais is hit or miss (deceptive and intriguing with his early stuff, insufferable and smothering with his later ones), yet this mid 70's time travel tale sounds very promising. I'd love to hear thoughts if anyone's seen it.
4. The Landlord (1970)- Hal Ashby has always been an intelligent, low-key director (much like Bob Rafelson) and "The Landlord" is his debut film starring Beau Bridges as a rich kid who buys a house and ends up squabbling with his urban neighbors. Everything I've read about it calls it a smart social comedy.
5. L.627 (1994)- Bertrand Tavernier's police procedural is an outright masterpiece... a film that alternates between the rush of adrenaline involved with police work and the banal idleness spent typing up reports and tracking down snitches. The final shot is an amazing one. With so much of Tavernier's work available on video, this one is a head-scratcher.
6. Sleeping Car Murders (1965)- I really should go back and give "Z" another viewing. This is director Costa-Gavras' debut film and it stars Simone Signoret and Yves Montand as a couple investigating the murder of a girl on an overnight passenger train.
7. Outcast (1962)- I've only seen two Kon Ichikawa films, but they were both searing and powerful works from a Japanese filmmaker who seems to often get overlooked.
8. The Emigrants (1971)- After recently seeing "Everlasting Moments", I'd be very happy if I could see more of Jan Troell's work. Both this film and the sequel, "The New Land" document the settlement of Swedish emigrants in Minnesota. Every description calls them sweeping and epic.
9. The Goalie's Anxiety At the Penalty Kick (1971)- Wim Wenders' debut film. I rented this on VHS years ago and started watching it, but ran out of time before it had to be returned (remember those days?!). When I finally went back for it months later, the tape had been eaten in the machine by another renter. It's one of the very few Wenders' films I've yet to see.
10. Day the Sun Turned Cold (1996)- One of my favorite films from 1996. Directed by little known filmmaker Ho Yim, it's an emotional ride of a young man who burrows into the secrets of his past. Great cinematography and low-key acting make this a must-see. Too bad it's been thirteen years since I've last seen it in an empty theater.

3

The Cove

Louie Psihoyos' documentary "The Cove" is certainly a bleeding heart agitprop project... but it works and works magnificently. Expounding on the long-standing practice of Japanese dolphin slaughter on a little island known as Taijie, it often takes alot to move me and "The Cove" does it several times. Like a precise thriller or slow-screw-turning horror movie, Psihoyos and his team of animal activists give us tidbits of information- first charming nuggets about the level of intelligence within dolphins and the resurgence of the mammals' popularity after "Flipper" debuted in the 1960's- and then peels back the curtain to reveal a gripping espionage tale as the group attempts to document and record what is really happening in a two acre body of water just out of sight off the island. And when the images do come (something the film builds towards with thunderous propensity), it's a completely unnerving experience that I wasn't prepared for. And while those images and sounds will stay with you for days, the real heart breaker of the story lies in the main examination of Rick O'Barry- the perfect hero if there ever was one. As the dolphin trainer and head "capturer" of the dolphins for the Flipper show, he now dedicates his life to freeing the mammals around the world. The guilt of seeing his dolphins die in captivity strain his face and resonate in his voice. If nothing else, "The Cove" is a tremendous and moving confessional.

In the Loop

It may seem tough to create a roaring comedy about the various digressions and complicated bureaucracies of the policy-making bodies of the English and American government, but director Armando Ianucci's "In the Loop" does just that. I love this type of comedy- fast and furious scripted dialogue that flies at the viewer from all angles and causes one to acutely listen for the joke. As it is, we get brilliant little jokes such as:

"Go and talk to the senator's aid... the boy from The Shining... and see what you can get out of him".

"No."

"C'mon... it'll be easy peasy lemon squeezie."

No, it will be difficult, difficult lemon difficult."

There's not a false note in the ensemble cast.


District 9

Seamless, exceptionally creative CGI creatures aside, if there's no heart within the living characters in a certain film, then it fails. And that's exactly the case with Neill Blomkamp's "District 9", a film that cribs so much from previous sci-fi ventures that it feels like a television pilot retread. And when its not counting the odes to yonder days, it features a main character that's beyond sympathy or empathy. "District 9" does reach a few highs, but its message is glib.

On How A Four Star Review Changed My Mind

I suppose it's either the death rattle death of newspapers or a weary reaction to the dog days of summer, but professional film critics are going for the jugular lately. First, there was Jeffrey Wells and his angry post about the slow decline of Kathryn Bigelow's "The Hurt Locker" when it comes to selling tickets to the younger film-going demographic. Glenn Kenny and Drew McWeeney then jumped into the fray. Then most recently, Roger Ebert jumped into the ring against film critic Armond White when he trashed (and apparently pissed on) the new fan-boy favorite, "District 9".

On the first point, I saw "The Hurt Locker" over a month ago and didn't utter a peep about it because I seem to be the only one on the planet (besides White of course) who feels it isn't a masterpiece. Solid, yes. Three stars, yes. But it meanders in the end a bit much and does revel in some awfully pedestrian cliches at times. Still, after so many quality films die a quiet death at the box office or find life on home video or in repertory screenings, why is "The Hurt Locker" now the branding iron for such a strong push of the under appreciated? Secondly, on the Ebert/White fracas, let me first say I'm no fan of White. Ever since film criticism from outside my limited scope was made available on the web in the mid 90's, I gravitated towards the New York and Chicago critics- Sarris, Hoberman, Taubin, Rosenbaum and Wilmington. There was something electric about their writings- and certainly the fact that they were pontificating on so many films I wouldn't see for years played into my appreciation. I soon stumbled upon the alternative New York paper, the New York press. While Matt Zoller Seitz quickly became a favorite (and still thrives today), I also discovered Armond White and found him shitting on so many films I liked. A train wreck relationship formed. I despised his reviews, but couldn't stop reading them. A humorous side note: a fellow online buddy who I used to communicate with regularly in New York e-mailed me one day with the lines "I just shared an elevator with your favorite critic." My reply- "Did you kick him in the shins?" The Ebert/White duel has been entertaining, to say the least. And, it will probably get me to the theater to see just what all the fuss is about. I'm sure the production company is grateful for the critical misunderstanding.

All of this to say that, yes, even though "print" is dying, the blogs and twitter and technology (the invisible print, I suppose) still reign supreme and are continuing to evolve and expand a film's reputation through the now omniscient viral means. Sometimes, this is good. I do take a critic's words into consideration- a perfect example being that I'm still very tempted by the slow murmur of positive buzz for David Twohy's "A Perfect Getaway". And, it certainly happened earlier this year when Ebert wrote a virtually singular praise for Alex Proyas' "Knowing", and then followed it up a few days later with an even deeper analysis of the film's conceits on his blog. I read both of them with a "wtf" kind of feeling. I know Ebert loves his sci-fi tales (look no further than his unabashed love for "Dark City"), but this was "Knowing" starring (gasp) Nicholas Cage and released in late February with very little traction. All of this came back as I held the movie in my hand and decided to give it a shot. Admittedly, it's not quite a four star movie, but pretty damn close.... a film full of scary ideas done with just the right touch of humanity to make the characters somebody you root for and with one helluva nice (uncompromising) ending that certainly made the test audiences squirm in their seats.


Apocalypse movies rarely feature this many strong ideas. The room for large scale disaster is firmly intact (especially in one outstanding set-piece that follows Cage through a fresh plane crash with one long unbroken steadicam shot), but its the collision of philosophical gestures and human sacrifice that really make "Knowing" a cut above the rest. Proyas' predilection for dark, shadowy figures do turn up here with an increasingly creepy frequency. Add a dash of mysticism and some 'un-blockbusterly' third act surprises, and one gets a very satisfying movie that I might have overlooked if it weren't for the fearless critique by Roger Ebert. I suppose Armond White has the same effect for someone else when they decide to rent "Death Race". I'll still read all the above mentioned critics... I'll just pay much closer attention to some.

70's Bonanza: The Outfit

Through the very generous donations of several readers of this blog from around the country, I've been able to finally glimpse some of the movies featured in my recent Produced and Abandoned posts. That's been part of the initially unimaginable fun of doing this type of thing... the community and camaraderie that has developed from it. I thank everyone for this. And it's exactly this same generosity that offered me the chance to finally see John Flynn's hard-nosed 1973 film, "The Outfit"- a film that coincidentally is being shown on the big screen for the first time in ages. Is a DVD release in the works?



Based on a novel by great crime writer Donald Westlake, "The Outfit" can easily be read as yet another grimy variation on the loner anti-hero... a man so enraged or hell-bent on a single minded quest that the whole film turns into a systematic deconstruction of the underworld. In "Point Blank", it was Lee Marvin. There was Mel Gibson in "Payback". And in "The Outfit" it's Robert Duvall. After the almost wordless execution killing of his brother in the opening few minutes, Earl (Duvall) is released from prison and quickly hooks up with old girlfriend Bett (Karen Black). There begins a road trip across the vacant Midwest plains as Earl finds old chum Cody (Joe Don Baker) and the pair begin to exact their revenge on the mob system that purportedly killed his brother. Their targets, though, are not deadly, but striking the Syndicate (a favorite term from Westlake that seems to imply an expansive network of evil) where it really hurts- their wallets. Before long, director Flynn dashes all hopes that "The Outfit" will be an in-depth character study of these particular good-bad guys. As the pair knocks off backroom money laundering spot after another, "The Outfit" morphs into an unrelenting document of non-descript offices that Earl and Cody hold-up. The point- which comes through as loudly as Fritz Lang's German films- is that evil is pervasive and secretly turning the wheels of every office building across the country. Yet it's done with such quiet calculation and memorably mean faces (Timothy Carey especially) that "The Outfit" succeeds by doing very little. And I haven't even mentioned the especially gruff performance by Robert Ryan as the mob boss who sees the pair turn his mansion upside down in a Tony Montana-like finale. Finally seeing "The Outfit" was worth the wait.

It Pains Me To Say It....

... but Judd Apatow's "Funny People" is a mis-fire from a director that I've grown to appreciate over the last few years. Over-long, over-wrought and completely devoid of the substantial honesty built between the characters in "Knocked Up", "Funny People" feels like a decent movie stretched to ponderous proportions. I've read alot lately about how this is the film where Apatow grows up, and I say that was "Knocked Up". The quotient of dick and fart jokes is still relatively high, but there was something quite moving about the car ride between Heigel and Rogen as they drive into an adult world where nothing will be the same. There was great humanity in the way Leslie Mann spouts out how old she feels after being denied entrance to a night club- and yes Mann is good here with my crush firmly intact, but the relationship between her and Adam Sandler doesn't reach the harmonious connection it strives for. And, where the interaction between Rogen, Hill and Segal appeared as lively and familiar banter between old friends, the Rogen, Hill, Schwartman combo feels mean and vapid in "Funny People".


Perhaps it's my strong aversion to Sandler when he attempts to tackle a "serious" role ("Punch Drunk Love" exempt since it's so bat-shit crazy), but I didn't feel anything for his George Simmons. The endless parade of self-indulgent cameos didn't help either. I'll stop now. Here's hoping Apatow bounces back and reigns in his excesses for the next comedy.

DVD Shout Out: The Education of Charlie Banks

Most of the energy surrounding "The Education of Charlie Banks" will be focused on the fact that it's directed by Fred Durst. Yes, that Fred Durst- the singer of Limp Bizkit fame who once echoed immortal and sage lines such as "I did it all for the nookie, so you can take that cookie, and stick it up your ass." Regardless of that, "The Education of Charlie Banks" is still a very good movie about class differences while managing to heighten and draw out the subtle tension between Charlie (Jesse Eisenberg) and old school bully/friend Mick (Jason Ritter, son of John).


The story- one that could have stumbled into cliche territory yet remains fresh and original- begins sometime in the 1970's in Greenwich village as the aforementioned Charlie meets bad-boy Mick. Soon after seeing Mick beat a fellow student within an inch of his life, the bookish and morally upright Charlie tells the cops on Mick. He soon after recants his admission. While at college several years later, Mick shows up and slowly insinuates himself back into Charlie's life, taking up with the girl he likes and generally upending Charlie's literate and wealthy circle of friends. The pressing question (and one that writer Peter Elkoff and director Durst expand to terrifying lengths during Mick's re-occurrence at the Ivy League school) is whether Mick is aware of Charlie's "rat" status or not. Still, the impending collision between Charlie and Mick is handled with confidence, allowing "The Education of Charlie Banks" to work itself out as a low key character study.



As Charlie, Eisenberg is quickly becoming typecast as the 'new nebbish'. He does seem tailor made for the role ever since "The Squid and the Whale", but its Jason Ritter who really lifts the film. Full of charisma and taking some scenes into completely unexpected territory, he has massive potential. As for Durst the filmmaker, I suppose it would be unfair to say he does nothing to screw up the proceedings. Simply shot and cleanly edited, there are a few recognizable moments of talent behind the camera.... one of them being a slow zoom into the outside of a library as Charlie runs inside, looking for the girl he has a crush on as the camera stays outside, continuing its slow zoom until he re-emerges and runs off screen. Not only is it a visual flourish that's unique, but it preserves the sense of desperate longing surely felt by Banks. Overall, "The Education of Charlie Banks" is a great surprise.

One Minute Greatness

Over the past few weeks, I've been entranced by these Levi Jeans commercials being shown at my local Cinemark theaters. I know that commercials have long been a breeding ground for popular filmmakers (Fincher, Gondry, Jonze and even Scorsese back in the day), and these spots tend to prove that rule. Directed by Cary Fukunaga, whose "Sin Nombre" is still floating around in art house theaters and has now become a must-see for me, these ads are breathtaking in the way they combine otherwordly images and spoken word. Spot 1, titled "America" is the best of the two, but both ads are real knockouts.

Spot #1


Spot #2


Here's hoping Fukunaga can carry forward the cinematic intensity of these commercials and make good in Hollywood.

And, as we all know, another corporation named Nike has been redefining the syntax of television advertising for so many years now, here's a few of my favorites:

Resistance Is Futile

Ole Christian Madsen's "Flame and Citron" is a brooding trenchcoat and fedora'd examination of the blurry lines between right and wrong, guilt and innocence... and an especially powerful psychological case study of the tensions that engulfed whole countries during the German occupation of World War 2. Starring Mads Mikkelson and Thure Lindhardt as the aforementioned Flame and Citron (code names applied by the underground resistance group they take their orders from), Madsen's film wedges itself satisfactorily between Melville's "Army of Shadows" and Verhoeven's "Black Book", two of the most invigorating and intelligent films whose primary goal was to highlight the cloak and dagger escapades of the various Resistance groups during the great war- albeit with markedly different effects based on the time they were produced. Verhoeven is certainly aiming for a bit more entertainment value while Melville's 1969 work is a rigorous experiment in quiet deception and suffocating doom. Finding the right mixture between these extremes, "Flame and Citron" is an exciting and ultimately moving treatise on these two uniquely dedicated- and historically accurate- Danish assassins.


Initially throwing the viewer into an indiscernible chain of events where Flame and Citron are nonchalantly knocking on doors and exterminating people, focus and motivation soon eclipse their seemingly random acts. Outside of their clinically precise assassinations, back story and development gradually gives purpose to both men. Citron (Mikkelsen) has a family, but his honor and sense of duty has slowly eroded that relationship. Flame (Lindhardt), the more three dimensional of the pair, is given contextual and deep seated hatred for his actions against the encroaching German army and SS squad. Yet the film's real crowning achievement (besides its expertly staged action sequences and sense of forbodement) is the dangerous ways it maps out the various deceptions, betrayals and triple crosses. What's a good Resistance film without the idea of any single person being the one who rats on someone else? In "Flame and Citron", the walls slowly begin to collapse on the devoted duo when the directions of their superiors begins to look like personal retribution rather than straightforward homeland security. As the tensions rise, Mikkelsen and Lindhardt do an excellent job of etching the fear on their face. We want these guys to survive, but history- and the reptilian nature of the underground movement- are certainly running against them.

The most lasting effect of "Flame and Citron" is not in the action itself, but in the closing moments. Like the best films based on actual events, "Flame and Citron" provides us with text that deepens and extends the supposed fictional image into reality. For some reason, the end notes on Ketty (Stine Stengade), the love interest of Flame, and the belated recognition bestowed upon Flame and Citron by the U.S. government, resonate more poignantly than in other films of this nature. Also, the use of a voice-over motif that doesn't come into clarity until the final few minutes strikes a deep echo about the way we process and remember harrowing events. In a film that mostly concerns itself with instantaneous satisfaction through bloodletting, "Flame and Citron" is ultimately a moving examination of the life long battle scars that firmly attach themselves with no relief in sight.

Art House Round Up

Moon

Duncan Jones' "Moon" belongs in that category of heady independent science fiction films (both versions of "Solaris", "Sunshine") that emphasizes ideas above all else. Tastefully rendered in minimal camera selections (no hand-held, composed medium shots, efficient editing), "Moon" features a great performance from Sam Rockwell as an astronaut working on the moon for the Lunar corporation... a company that's developed energy from harnessing sunlight on the far side of the moon. As his 3 year contract comes to a close, his mind begins to slip. Needless to say, writer/director Jones keeps everything controlled tightly. There are no pseudo alien things at play here. In fact, part of the film's magnificent charm is its ability to keep the tension intact after the 'big reveal' in the first 30 minutes. More and more interesting ideas begin to tumble like dominoes. All in all, "Moon" is a surprisingly effective debut from a filmmaker with loads of potential.


Summer Hours

My affinity for Olivier Assayas notwithstanding, "Summer Hours" would be a terrific film without his presence since its ensemble acting is gentle and pitch perfect. Situated somewhere between domestic French talkie and a cunning delineation of the conflicts between three generations of one family, Assayas had jettisoned the herky-jerky kinetic ism of his previous films and slowed things down with careful tracking shots and sublime editing (which, even in his frenetic work, was always calculated). After the mother in a large, artistically inclined family dies, the burden of her estate falls on her three children, played by Charles Berlinger, Juliette Binoche and Jeremie Rennier. Juggling their own modern lives while wading into the antiquated waters of their families past, "Summer Hours" is a great companion piece to Assayas' "Late August, Early September"... both are films that explicitly and immediately cause one to care for these characters and the subtle decisions they make. Just watch the community that flows through one scene when Binoche confesses her impending marriage or the final moments where granddaughter Sylvie (Alice Lencquesaing) ruminates on the days spent playing around her grandmother's house. And even though Assayas infuses every frame with longing and mortality, "Summer Hours" is far from a brooding or unpleasant experience. It perfectly seems to capture that awe-inspiring feeling that we all face- dealing with the past and smiling at the future we've built for ourselves through our current family and friends.

The Mr. Bernstein Meme

In a weird attempt to meld sociology, memory and cinematic pleasures, I've decided to start this meme based on a great post by Jeffrey Wells at his essential blog Hollywood Elsewhere. Remember that great monologue in Citizen Kane by actor Everett Sloan?

"You take me. One day back in 1896 I was crossing over to Jersey on the ferry, and as we pulled out there was another ferry pulling in, and on it was a girl waiting to get off. A white dress she had on. She was carrying a white parasol. I only saw her for one second. She didn't see me at all. But I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl."

I do have a similar story that I'll share later in this post, and I ask all of you to join me. The rules:

1. Your memory can be anything that lingers with you today. First love. Cathartic experience in a movie theater. Close encounters with death, chance, fate or luck. There are no limits. Delve deep! Just please be honest about them.
2. Video clips, pictures.. whatever.. again.... delve deep.
3. Choose five bloggers to tag and spread the wealth.
4. Link back to this blog.


The five I'd most like to hear from:

1. Bob at Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
2. Sam at The Listening Ear
3. Piper at Lazy Eye Theatre
4. Chris at his blog
5. Caitlin at 1416 and Counting

My memory:

In March of 2002, a buddy and I road tripped from Dallas to skiing in New Mexico. On a whim, we decided to drive onto Vegas. We took the scenic route in, stopping at the Hoover Dam. It was early in the morning and cold outside, so not many people were lingering around. I was looking over the railing, kinda lost in thought, when I heard someone next to me. I looked up and about 10 feet away was a Middle Eastern girl standing looking over the rail as well, wearing the full traditional Islamic dress and a veil wrapped just around her neck with her face exposed. Remember, this is March 2002. She looked over at me and, my god, this girl was beautiful. The take your breath away kinda natural beauty.... searing green eyes... 19 or 20 years old. She looked down for a second as if she was afraid of what my glance meant. Then she looked back up and saw the (probably) ga-ga look in my eyes (and not the prevalent scowl she probably always received) and smiled at me. I don't even remember what gesture I returned. I just remember being bowled over by her beauty. Then, she turned, went back to her family, hopped in a car and drove off. Honestly, if I'd said something to her... anything at all... it probably would not have amounted to much more than passer-by friendliness, but to this day I wonder about it. I wonder where she is. I know exactly how Mr. Bernstein feels.

In Memoriam

I tend to steer away from these types of things since so many others fill the void, but as a student of journalism, I owe Mr. Cronkite this small tribute on here.

Regional Review: The Whole Shootin' Match

The story of Eagle Pennell is a truly tragic one, yet we can always find beauty and redemption in the archived work of a filmmaker (justly) coming to light. After IFC snuck Pennell's 1984 film "Last Night At the Alamo" into their lackluster rotation a few months back, I feel privileged to have seen two Eagle films now. His second film, "The Whole Shootin Match", released in 1978, has been credited as the film that encouraged Robert Redford to launch the Sundance Film Festival. And I can't imagine a better film to watch on a hot July Texas night when it's still 95 degrees at 11pm.


Like most of his characters, Lloyd (Lou Perryman) and Frank (Sonny Carl Davis) are decent southern boys constantly trying to carve a niche for themselves amongst their nights of chasing women and drinking. In "The Whole Shootin' Match", Lloyd and Sonny fare much better than the layabouts in "Last Night At the Alamo", though to be fair, that film is strictly about one night in the life of a closing Houston bar and its denizens. Lloyd is an especially inventive guy, continually creating things out of PVC pipe and metal in his backyard. Yet in his customary fatalistic world-view, Pennell chooses to end this stroke of good luck as a corporate fast-one. The good 'ol boys are taken for a ride and lose out on their patent for a mop by a shady downtown Austin businessman who blinds the guys with a wad of quick cash- cash that Sonny quickly wastes on a suit and convertible. While a small part of the film documents the duo's brave attempts to scratch out a living on the fringes of society, the real gist of the film is their lazy interaction with each other and the women in Sonny's life. While this aspect of the film is highly entertaining and Pennell scribbles out some intently hilarious conversations between these two slow-drawl guys, "The Whole Shootin' Match" is (to me) a much more valuable commodity for its anthropological take on Texas in the mid 70's.

Filmed in and around Austin, Pennell frames a bit of his film in the concrete jungle of downtown Austin (as the previously mentioned scene where the guys sell their idea and get taken) but the majority of its setting is the hinterlands of south central Texas. Largely anonymous dirt roads, backyards and darkened highways, Pennell does evoke a serene beauty during the film's final images of the guys wandering in the clustered hills west of Austin. The clash between good 'ol boy nature and hippie central (Austin, well noted, is known as the most liberal city in Texas) is touched on as well during a scene where the guys attempt to kickstart a new polyuerthane business on a unique house in the Austin hills. Whether he means to or not, Pennell conveys alot about the clash of personalities in his films. More sure of himself in the hazy interactions between drinking buddies than fully realized relationships, "The Whole Shootin Match" does give ample screentime to Sonny's wife (a wonderful Doris Hargrave) and her slow attraction to Sonny's cousin (Eric Henshaw) in scenes that come off funny and real. The act of giving a bicycle to Sonny's young son squeezes alot of mileage out of its simple plot point. Pennell condenses alot of personality in conversations and "The Whole Shootin' Match" is a film full of them.


A poignant footnote to my viewing of "The Whole Shootin' Match" was certainly overshadowed by the news of actor Lou Perryman's death just a month or so after this film's DVD release and the virtual excitement being stirred by Pennell's maverick filmmaker status. Watching the scenes towards the end of "The Whole Shootin Match" as Lloyd and Frank dutifully search for lost gold in the hills, yet another unfulfilled get-rich-quick scheme in their never-resting-minds, I kept coming back to the image above as Lou rests on the downslope of a hill with a large tree blotting out the sky behind him. If ever there was a more glorious image of a man at peace with nature, this is it. Again, whether he meant to or not, Pennell and alter-ego Lou Perryman delve into the beauty of the Texas lanscape with a singular feeling for what makes this great state so breathtaking at times.

What's In the Netflix Queue #24

It's been a while since I've given your inquiring minds a look at my queue. Here we go:

1. Mad Dog Morgan- 70's Dennis Hopper film that doesn't sound too distinctive. MGM HD channel played this last month and I missed it. Hopper stars in a plot described as such: "ruthless bounty hunter scour Australia's harsh outback for infamous outlaw Mad Dog Morgan (Dennis Hopper) in this thriller based on the life of the Irishman who immigrated during the 1800s gold rush. Morgan is caught for stealing horses and endures years of torture behind bars. He continues his outlaw ways after his release, and soon he's wanted … dead or alive." Early 70's coked-up Hopper in a western? I'm there.
2. The Whistle Blower- Found this one while scouring that lovable feature in Netflix where members can create lists. Starring Michael Caine, it involves spy stuff and skulduggery. Made in the late 80's, this very well may be a made-for-TV movie, but Caine rarely disappoints. Plus, it's spy stuff!
3. Liliom- On going look at every Fritz Lang film I can. There'll be a humongous post in the future as I track down every available film.
4. F.I.S.T.- Sylvester Stallone as a labor leader? Sounds like gritty 70's fun.
5. Manhunter- With all my gushing over Michael Mann's latest, I decided to go back and re-watch this one. I've only seen this twice for some reason. I vividly remember a scene in a darkened kitchen with Tom Noonan. I look forward to re-discovering this one.
6. Before I Forget- Jacque Nolot writes, stars and directs in this French film from 2008 that has more than its share of supporters.
7. Dov'e le Liberte?- I don't know when they were released on DVD, but two of Roberto Rosselini's later pictures popped up as a recommendation recently. "Escape By Night" was a terrific film about three escaped POW's seeking refuge in an Italian town. "Dov'e le Liberte": "After serving a two-decade sentence for murdering his wife's lover, barber Salvatore (Totò) gets out of prison early for good behavior. But he soon finds that the outside world has changed so much that prison starts to look appealing by comparison. Before long, Salvatore starts hatching a plan to bust back into the slammer in this humor-filled dramatic gem from Italian master director Roberto Rossellini." A definite must see.
8. Torn Curtain- Hitchcock. Newman. Spy stuff. Say no more.
9. Cypher- Whatever happened to director Vincent Natali? After the smash cult success of "Cube"in 1998, he sorta fell off the map. IMDB shows several projects in development, though. This one, from 2005, stars Jeremy Northam involved in some sci-fi corporate espionage.
10. Stranded- Documentary about the Uruguayan rugby team who crash landed in the Andes and resorted to some, um, awful things to stay alive.

Few Thoughts On "Public Enemies"

Emerged from the theater shaken and invigorated from the latest display of machoism from one of the finest directors working today. From start to finish, this thing is a masterpiece. Just when I'd start to settle down in my seat, the subtle tension of its cat and mouse game would be punctuated by swift, abrasive pounds of machine gunfire and beautifully choreographed set-pieces. The connection created between Depp and Coltillard is heartfelt and poignant... and that final scene between her and Winstead (Stephen Lang) is pitch-perfect. And, I haven't seen a film this good looking since... well "Miami Vice". This is a film that deserves to be seen through a digital projector. The images are so crisp, certain moments were awe-inspiring. The gold statues in the background of one bank.... the texture on the wall when Cotillard talks on the phone with Depp.... the warm interior hues of gold and green. Simply stunning. I'll stop now. I don't know if I'll see a better film this year.

Michael Mann: The Logistics of Action

The following post is a contribution to the excellent Michael Mann blog-a-thon going on at Radiator Heaven.

Even though director Michael Mann has embraced the vagaries of technology with wonderful and illuminating results, it's nice to see that he hasn't succumbed to the post-modern style of editing and framing the muscular portions of his films; i.e. all those discombobulated, half-a-second-long shots that comprise so many action scenes today and represent a step backwards for concise and logical storytelling. I can always tell when a film plans to go down this wretched path. The opening car chase scene in "Quantum Of Solace" for example.... a car chase that sprays across the screen, full of shiny images, wincing faces, loud noises and a complete lack of spatial reference. I could feel myself slumping down lower in my seat after 90 seconds, wondering how I would ever make it through a film so spliced and diced within an inch of its life. If this is the continuing procession for all action films for the next ten years, then count me out.

And then there's Michael Mann and his 1995 masterpiece, "Heat". Featuring the greatest bank heist created on film so far (and a scenario that would frightfully play itself out in real life one year later), not only is it an exhilarating example of adrenaline film making, but it stands as my personal watermark for how every action film should be conceived.

It stands by two rules: 1. Allow the viewer to understand the setting. What makes this shoot-out in "Heat" so bracing is it's placement of good guy and bad guy. Watching it, we understand exactly where everyone is in relation to the buildings and people around them.







Through his use of over-the-shoulder tracking shots and cleanly developed medium shots, the image isn't distorted and we're allowed to see from behind the various shooters, giving us a panoramic view of the carnage being unleashed on poor downtown Los Angeles. Perhaps the most striking example of this is when Val Kilmer runs up behind a car and begins to unload on the crowd of police cars ahead of him. As he ducks to reload, Mann's camera patiently waits with him as he reloads and then re-emerges. The setting fits perfectly with the action.


2. Give the viewer a spatial sense of how the image effects the characters. If the first rule isn't in place, then the characters feelings, actions and placement must be transferred through editing. Thinking of the old trick of editing- if one were to cut to the face of a woman expressionless, then to a bright summer sky, then back to her face, the viewer may infer that she's happy to be taking in such a sunny visage. Compare the same sequence of shots with a black, ominous sky and our preconceptions may be vastly different for this woman. The same applies here. If an action scene is cut into a nauseating array of shiny images, loud noises and confusing design, then the viewer can become distressed and forced to accept the set-piece as something happening without any real foundation of cause and effect. In "Heat", every action has a counter-action and the viewer understands exactly where these actions come from. As Neil McCauley and his gang try to make their escape in their car, the bullets coming from outside:


Have disastrous (and logical) repercussions inside:



But Mann's attention to physical detail doesn't belong at just the halfway point. "Heat's" conclusion, filmed in an airport storage yard at night time, probably posed an equally difficult challenge. Instead of morphing into a shoot-em-up, the finale is full of quiet tension as the epic cat and mouse chase between DeNiro and Pacino ends with the same lucid intelligence that it started with.







The demise of DeNiro is told through light, sound, camera placement and viewer recollection. There's a very important reason Mann gives us images of planes coming and going and those runway lights brightening the area. For a thief who lives his life through mechanical diligence, its a fitting way to go out. And for Mann, it's not hard to see a bit of the obsessive concern that plagues all of his criminal anti-heroes. Whether its maneuvering through the locks of a safe, diverting their violent paths for the soft touch of a woman or slugging it out with heavy artillery, I'm just glad I can savor the clean images that tell every story. Can't every action film take place in 1995 before the slice and dice method became predominant?

70's Bonanza: Mitchum X 2

From 1973 to 1975, Robert Mitchum lived and breathed in the world of pulp. In 1973, there was "The Friends of Eddie Coyle". The next year... Sydney Pollack's "The Yakuza". Then in 1975, "Farewell, My Lovely", the third film to be based on the Dashiell Hammett novel of the same name. Maybe it was Mitchum's sad-sack, world weary face that naturally lent itself to the roles of various hoods, stoolies and tired detectives. Whatever the reason for such a powerhouse one-two-three punch, I'm just glad they exist.

The absolute best of the bunch- Peter Yates' "The Friends of Eddie Coyle"- has been newly released on DVD for the first time by Criterion, providing movie enthusiasts such as myself the opportunity to take in a (somewhat) forgotten masterpiece. A low key and almost clinical peek at the underbelly of the Boston underworld, Yates' film virtually renders Mitchum (the titular Eddie) as a secondary character, caught up in his own desperation to stay out of jail at 50 years old and give up his friends and associates involved in some heavy stuff. It's a bold move, but "The Friends of Eddie Coyle" should be seen as a sprawling examination of the mechanics of crime rather than an actual character study. Mitchum is the big name, but the smaller roles are what really flesh out "The Friends of Eddie Coyle" as a dynamic portrait of this particularly dangerous sect of people. Littered with familiar character actor faces (Alex Rocco, Joe Santos, James Tolkan, Richard Jordan, Steven Keats), Yates draws great tension out of every scene. Three bank robberies, a police stake-out in a parking lot, and the final night on the town for Eddie Coyle are supplemented with a filmmaking style that's simple and economic. And this is a film that understands the power of silences. Just watch the progression of shots as Jackie Brown (Keats) waits in a parking lot or the cryptic conversation between Dillon (Peter Boyle) and cop (Jordan) that basically says everything without saying anything.

But among this sordid world, there's still Robert Mitchum. He tells you everything you need to know in the opening scene as he describes how he got his nickname of "Fingers" in a breathless monologue. It's a quiet performance that reeks of regret and hard-worn bad luck. And when Mitchum talks or looks into the eyes of the Jordan's slick cop, deciding whether to rat or not, his eyes tell us the whole story. The benefit of time is certainly on his side as an actor.



A little less successful than "The Friends of Eddie Coyle" but intriguing nonetheless is Dick Richard's "Farewell My Lovely" (1975). Desperately wanting to mine the same cinematic and critical gold as Roman Polanski's "Chinatown" a few years earlier, this third installment of the great Hammett novel has the artificiality of 40's noir but not the real gusto. As Philip Marlowe, Mitchum is highly watchable, spouting the ironic lines of his weary detective role with half amused energy. The story itself- something about a missing chorus girl and the ties of one powerful family to the very heart of corruption in Los Angeles- were surely monumental in their day, but by 1975 this slick decor had run its course. Part of the minor failure of "Farewell My Lovely" can be found in the abrupt shift film noirs took during the 70's. If "Chinatown" closed the book on mimicking the old style, then "Point Blank", "The Long Goodbye" and "Night Moves" were definitive indicators of the new prevailing winds.... kinetic, self-reflexive and concerned with modern attitudes clashing against old manners. Regardless, "Farewell My Lovely" centers on the bulky shoulders of Mitchum as he trudges across the city at night and slowly segues from one predicament to another. What else do we expect from Philip Marlowe? Yet only Mitchum could probably pull off the meaningful way in which he tosses a baseball back to a little boy whose father won't be coming home. Whether he's playing the stoolie or the good guy, Mitchum has that unique way of making one believe in his actions.

Currently Listening To

Smog:



and The Handsome Furs:

Top 5 List: Kooky Father's Day Stories

1. National Lampoons Vacation- As Clark Griswald, Chevy Chase is probably the most fantastically realized father in film history. Full of child-like wonder and unstoppable drive for his family to simply have fun, Chase also portrays him as a well-meaning (yet bumbling) person who exudes goodness. In "National Lampoons Vacation", it all started. The nightmare of cross-country travel... the resonantly funny situations... and the American summer vacation dream that ends with a felony. The laughs only continued to grow in the Griswald's travels to Europe and then maneuvering through the holidays- and I won't mention Vegas, which is painful- and Chevy Chase embodies middle class fatherhood with glee each time.

2. He got Game- Certainly, a more screwed up look at fatherhood then the previous entry, but Spike Lee's pseudo basketball movie is also an extraordinarily moving examination of the walls that build up between father and son. Ray Allen has been maligned for his poor performance here, but I found his un-actorly methods quite refreshing. As a jailbird father released in the hopes of getting his top prospect son to sign with the warden's Alma Mata, Denzel Washington hams it up a bit, yet the final showdown between father and son on the basketball court is one of Spike Lee's most inventive narrative devices- a basketball game that reverberates with moral and cosmic weight. It's a masterstroke. Then comes the moment when a basketball seems to explode through time and space. The tenuous bonds between father and son have never seemed so palpable.

3. The Adventures of Sebastian Cole- Here's a different type of relationship between father and son... and a wonderfully overlooked late 90's film that deserves to be seen. Directed by Tod Williams ("The Door In the Floor") and starring a young Adrian Grenier, the film takes place in the late 80's and perfectly nails its time and place. Confused, dealing with young love, and some unique family circumstances, "The Adventures of Sebastain Cole" belongs among the ranks of "Kicking and Screaming", "Adventureland" and "The Beautiful Girls"... films that place young adults amidst the very definitive points in their lives and treats them with respect. As Sebastian's father, actor-director Clark Gregg plays out his unique role with satisfying humanity. What could've been a soap opera trick propels young Sebastian into a well-adjusted adult ready to face the tumultuous world.

4. Field of Dreams- C'mon. Seriously. If you don't choke up a little bit when Costner asks his father "you wanna play catch?" then you don't have a heart. Or love baseball to its core. Or you never spent an afternoon playing catch when you were a kid. Though it takes its solemn time actually getting to that point, Alden's monumental baseball reverie is really about a son making amends with his father. Stunningly simple filmmaking with real heart. No matter how many times I watch this thing, I still find that lump in my throat growing the second Burt Lancaster steps up to save Costner's choking daughter.

5. Mr. Mom- Remember when Michael Keaton could do no wrong? I LOVED this movie when I was younger and it still gets me today. Sure, the whole thing has been derided for its sitcom style comedy, but Keaton jumps into every scene with such enthusiasm and the idea of a father learning to understand the day-to-day rhythms of his household really work.

70's Bonanza: The Taking Of Pelham 123

The rising tide of emotion over Tony Scott's remake of Joseph Sargent's "The Taking Of Pelham 123" is reaching the climactic cry of "why"? There are its admirers and certainly its detractors (plus more harsh words). As an unabashed Tony Scott fan, I'll certainly give it a look, aware of its tricked up cinematography and amplified square off between a goateed, menacing John Travolta and a subdued Denzel Washington. This is not the original... a film which deserves its rightful place in 70's cinema as a hard-edged, no nonsense hostage film that looks even trendier today than I'm sure the grit and grime of 1970's New York did upon initial release.

For anyone who says director Joseph Sargent provided a "workmanlike" effort on "The Taking of Pelham 123" needs to look a little closer. From the opening exterior shots of the hostage-takers silently assembling in the subway station to that sublime and impeccably humorous final freeze frame, Sargent's film is wrapped in auterist moments. Take also the first (and last) images of criminal ringleader Robert Shaw, introduced through tapping, impatient feet in a subway station and ending on a self destructive tap of the shoes on the underground electric track. With the exception of the tracking shot that follows a cat into a dark doorway, up to a pair of shoes, and eventually to the half-hidden face of Orson Welles in Carol Reed's "The Third Man" as he picks up the cat, I can't think of a more inventive introduction to a main character through an almost throwaway moment. Great stuff. And back to Shaw himself. As the good guy transit detective, Walter Matthau does his lumbering best to imbue every scene with the world-weary nonchalance that made him famous, and it's a harmonious collision when he and Shaw finally begin communicating through the train's radio. Decisive, intelligent, well organized and brutally efficient, Shaw creates a purely evil bad guy out of (basically) thin air. It's always the icy, quiet person who embarks on the killing rampage, and Shaw embodies Mr. Blue as a man who never raises his voice but gets exactly what he wants. It's an understated performance, but one that grows on you with repeat viewings. Here's a well-drawn villain because we understand everything has been planned down to the inch. With preparation like that, it's all tone of voice and steely gaze and Shaw carries it out with perfection.

Then there's the tension generated by the film. There's little action- one car chase that ends just as quickly as it begins and sporadic gun fire- yet "The Taking Of Pelham 123" carves its place in the niche of 70's cinema alongside other thrillers (paranoid or otherwise) that understands atmosphere, acting, pacing and dialogue are the keys to success. With their limited screen time, Jerry Stiller, Martin Balsam, Hector Elizondo and Dick O' Neill resonate long after their supporting turns as guys trapped on both sides of the hostage crisis. And then there's that final scene.... intriguing because we don't expect Sargent and screenwriter Peter Stone to fully evolve the story beyond the actual titular action. But they do. And it lands on that cat-like grin of Walter Matthau as his long day comes to an end. With that, "The Taking Of Pelham 123" immediately re-assesses itself as a study of good overpowering evil. In it's small way, New York City is saved again.

Produced and Abandoned: Part 2

Ten more titles that deserve a release on Region 1 DVD:

1. The Keep (1983)- The only Michael Mann not readily available. This aired on Bravo or TBS a looong time ago and I missed dubbing it onto a shoddy VHS tape (or maybe I did and the VHS tape broke!). The word of mouth has been lukewarm, but damn it, hiding any Michael Mann from the eyes of the mainstream is a crime.
2. Second Sight (1989)- Does anyone besides me remember this movie? John Larroquette as a detective who enlists the help of psychic Bronson Pinchot to find a missing person? Probably supreme self indulgence on my part (who really wants to see this?), but I loved this movie when I was younger.
3. A Brighter Summer Day (1991)- With Taiwanese director Edward Yang passing a couple years ago, I think it's definitely time larger audiences get a glimpse of this (supposed) towering achievement. Art house fans label this the holy grail, as there's several versions floating around out there, and a supposed 4 hour cut that made the rounds at festivals. While we're at it, how about a proper release of "Taipai Story" as well?
4. Freebie and the Bean (1975)- My dad and other older friends rave about this film. It pops up occasionally on TV, but a DVD look is long overdue.
5. That Cold Day In the Park (1969)- Prolific output does tend to raise the Not on DVD quotient, and Robert Altman certainly fits the bill. Even though "Brewster McLoud" dots alot of these lists (seen it, wasn't too impressed), this title has always eluded me.
6. The Last Movie (1971)- Bat shit, coked-up Dennis Hopper is always kinda good. And bat-shit, coked-up Dennis Hopper as director is even crazier. While I can't always claim this is a good movie, there are some interesting ideas and Hopper does his best to contribute to the bloated, independent feeling of out-there 70's cinema. Like some of Wim Wenders, "The Last Movie" is a self-reflexive look at filmmaking-as-apocalypse, and I'd love to see the reaction this film gets on wide release in region 1.

And now, a few titles suggested from the United Provinces of Ivanlandia blog

7. The Devils (1971)- Ken Russell's much sought after film about nuns and, well devils, is getting some talk around the blogosphere as it recently turned up on region 2 DVD. With other Russell BBC films making their DVD splash earlier this year, here's hoping "The Devils" isn't far behind.
8. Run of the Arrow (1957)- We always need Sam Fuller on DVD.
9. The Hellstrom Chronicle (1971)- Honestly, I had to look this one up. You learn something new everyday. 1971's Oscar winner for best documentary is called "a visually stunning look into the vast world of insects".
10. The Island (1980)- No, not the marginally entertaining Michael bay flick with (yum) Scarlett Johansson, but Michael Ritchie's (hugely under appreciated) violent pirates movie starring Michael Caine. I'm there.


And a few quick notes. Thanks to readers of the blog, looks like I'll be seeing two films from my previous post including "Wanda Nevada" and "The Outfit". Thanks!

Secondly, TCM is showing some phenomenal films this much, and in late June, they'll be showing Lumet's "The Deadly Affair" which I've been grasping to see for years as well as other 70's not on DVD films such as "The Carey Treatment". Again, you gotta love TCM.

The Con Game and the New Cool

In the most recent copy of "Film Comment", writer Phillip Lopate examines the abilities of film-goers (but more specifically, the film critic) to reverse their initial opinion of a given movie. We all have those moments. I can remember the first time I saw "Boogie Nights" and it left a general "meh" feeling over me. Some initial thoughts jotted down for others to read was disparaging.... something about a Scorsese knock-off. Then, after witnessing the magisterial brilliance of "Magnolia" two years later, I went back and re-watched "Boogie Nights" and the cribs from other movies didn't feel so blinding. There's the stunning Little Bill long-shot... the sharp flashes of emotion that ring through.... the Sister Christian scene which still builds up incredible tension when viewed today... P.T. Anderson was simply working on a different level than everyone else at the time and that lost me a bit. Now, after recently watching Rian Johnson's "The Brothers Bloom", I felt extremely tempted to go back and watch his debut film, "Brick", and give it a second chance. His sophomore film is a con film, yes. It's hard to take anything seriously because you're searching for the elusive lie behind the images. Yet, "The Brothers Bloom" is such a well-crafted film, entertaining (and yet idiosyncratic) in every respect and visually sumptuous that I feel like I missed something in his first film. Any filmmaker with this much talent to burn deserves a second chance.



Starring Mark Ruffalo and Adrien Brody as grifting brothers who choose the eccentric but wealthy mark played by Rachel Weisz, "The Brothers Bloom" establishes itself right away as another entry in the cinema of "New Cool" as I call it. Director Wes Anderson being the godfather of this movement, of course, Johnson employs some of the same stylish techniques (whip pans, cutesy acoustic music, vibrant color schemes) but creates characters and a story that feel all their own. Perhaps too whimsical for some, I absolutely loved the way Johnson films Brody and Weisz falling in love through a simple dolly tracking shot as they walk the streets of Prague, disappear behind a row of stone pillars, and re-emerge holding hands. Self conscious and definitely aware of its coolness, "The Brothers Bloom" doesn't beat one over the head with it though. Keeping the sweetness intact between child-like Weisz and impressionable Brody as the story (and con-game) grows convoluted is the single masterstroke of Johnson's "The Brothers Bloom". Their relationship isn't a con, and that makes the whole thing work. Also, as in "Brick", Johnson keeps the eye entertained by a shifting pastiche of costumes and time, as if he's ingested more film noirs, Hollywood musicals and David Mamet plays than Quentin Tarantino. While the black suits and shades worn by the brothers remains consistent throughout, there's a great scene towards the beginning of the film where we think the action is happening in some burlesque in 1920's Chicago, and then the brothers emerge in broad daylight on a graffiti-filled rooftop overlooking a very modern downtown. Again, some of the images in this film are breathtaking. But if there's one fault to be had, it's more of my own pre-conceived disappointment than the film itself. I kept waiting for that one great set-piece that never comes. Most con films rely on this, and "The Brothers Bloom" zips by so fast from con to con, that we barely have time to register a point or outcome. Regardless, Johnson's intention may be more on the relationship between Brody and Weisz and Ruffalo than anything else. In the way "Brick" was a high school tale told through the prismatic notion of a hardboiled film noir, "The Brothers Bloom" could be a family drama played out against the shifting diversions of the grifter's tale. Johnson seems to relish telling small stories against the fabricated backdrop of embedded narrative styles. And with "The Brothers Bloom" he does this magically.

So, this leads me back to "Brick", Johnson's 2006 debut starring Joseph Gordon Levitt as a high school kid caught up with some seedy 'gangsters'. Perhaps it was the hype. Perhaps it was the stilted, manufactured dialogue. I went into this one with some anticipation, and came out supremely underwhelmed. Watching it again today with some perspective, I realized just how wrong I was. Carefully composed as if every shot where framed within an inch of its life... that crazy good scene in the parking lot... the lovingly rendered and modernized way Johnson has taken the film noir and turned it completely inside out... how did I possibly miss this upon first viewing? At least I now understand the error of my ways. Thankfully, the movies do exist with revisionist history. And, if you haven't seen either film, I urge you to do so (one on DVD and the other currently in release). I suspect that Rian Johnson will be a name I echo many times around these parts.

Eating Disorders

Abdel Kechiche's "The Secret of the Grain" belongs to that rare sub-genre of international cinema that patiently observes a way of life with unwavering naturalism and empathy. While more than two hours of this 153 minute movie concerns itself with the various interactions and tensions that arise over the dinner table with an immigrant family living in France, it's never boring and certainly never wears out its welcome. And when a simple crime surfaces in the final ten minutes, it's not only a crushing revelation to the family patriarch Slimane (a bottom-feeding but very humble character), but its treated by director Kechiche as if the very fabric of time and space has been ripped apart in a quiet explosion. Watching it, I was consumed by anger... disturbed by the seemingly passive manner of laughter by the young criminals, and ultimately overtaken by compassion for Slimane (Habib Boufares). Like the movies of the Dardennes brothers (or, most pointedly, De Sica's classic "The Bicycle Thief"), "The Secret of the Grain" exposes us to the tenuous underbelly of life where a minor inconvenience for us registers as an earth-shattering assault on the lower class 'others'.
But, I'm allowing my praise to get ahead of me here. Set in modern day Southern France, Slimane is the central figure to a large family. Quickly after losing his job though, he embarks on refurbishing a boat and opening a couscous restaurant. We follow Slimane and are slowly introduced to his large family (over Sunday dinner, of course) where the camera restlessly conveys the passion, trust and (at times) dissolution of the various family members. Slimane is divorced, occasionally seeing his overbearing daughter but preferring the company of his girlfriend and her daughter Rym (a miraculous Hafsia Herzi). Slimane is subdued, introverted and Rym dotes on him like the father she never had. It's their relationship that soon overshadows everything else in the film. They dress up and attempt to gain the proper licenses and permits to open the restaurant, yet only encounter the nastiness of that thing we call bureaucracy. Then, through a stroke of business ingenuity, Slimane prepares a party for big spenders and city officials to gain support and backing for his idea. But, trouble arises and Kechiche strings out the final dinner party to almost unbearable proportions as a small mistake soon envelops the whole family and Slimane especially.

As previously mentioned, "The Secret of the Grain" builds up strong camaraderie between the viewer and its characters. While some may find Kechiche's filmmaking style pretentious- such as the scene where Slimane's daughter in law suspects her husband is cheating on her and she explodes on Slimane in a scene that rolls on for several minutes in an exhaustive array of screams and tears or the final belly dancing scene- for me it all made sense. I was immediately drawn into this world... its messiness.... its complete abandonment of usual character development... it all felt like the best of John Cassavates where we watch people dissolve and bounce off each other through laughter and talk. It may not be a defining idea, but "The Secret of the Grain" hits all the right notes. And the food looks incredible.