Tampilkan postingan dengan label cinematography. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label cinematography. Tampilkan semua postingan

Kamis, 04 November 2010

Unsung Heroes: The Cinematography of In Bruges

Hi, everybody. This is Michael C here from Serious Film and this week I'm excited to be writing about one of my very favorite films of the last decade, one that improves dramatically which each repeated viewing. So lets get to the overlooked element of this largely overlooked gem.


One could argue that a lot of work was done for Eigil Bryld when director Martin McDonagh decided to shoot on location in the breathtakingly beautiful Belgian city of Bruges. But as cinematographer for In Bruges he couldn't be content to merely do justice to his gorgeous setting. The cliche is that a setting is like another character in a story, but in the case of this movie the city of Bruges features as prominently in the plot as it does in the title. Bryld succeeds in using the look of the movie to add depth and texture to the story, implying things left unsaid and underlining the film's themes in unforgettable fashion.

Take the character of Ken, played by Brendan Gleeson. While the other character's get showier emotions to play - Ray's guilt, Harry's explosive frustration - Ken's arc is an internal one, subtle enough that one could be forgiven for missing it altogether on first viewing. Over the course of the story Ken, a professional killer, is compelled to listen to the better angels of his nature and put his own life on the line in order to spare Ray. This transition is never stated explicitly. Instead it is communicated to the audience visually through the looks of peace that wash over Gleeson's face as Bruges envelops him in its hazy golden glow. In this shot Ken is on the outside looking in at a picture of perfect happiness that his occupation will never allow him to experience. 


Bryld's work here isn't just beautiful for its own sake. It's actually doing a lot of the heavy lifting for the story.

When it comes to the more explicit story, Bryld and McDonagh are able to frame the picturesque qualities of the "perfectly preserved medieval town" so that they are as inescapable as Ray's crushing Catholic guilt. The religious imagery and architecture are omnipresent. It could seem like overkill that the film's climax is literally staged in a Bosch painting of Judgment Day come to life, but the beauty of the scenes images so justifies the scene's existence on their own that any symbolism is able to hide in plain sight.

It's also worth noting that in addition to carrying the story's thematic weight, the camerawork of In Bruges also goes a long way towards delivering the funny. McDonagh and Bryld are great at composing shots of Gleeson and Farrell together to emphasize how mismatched they are with each other and how out of place they are in Bruges. The framing gets laughs on its own.

Bryld's filming of In Bruges gives the movies as memorable a picture of a place as we've had in recent years. His vision of Bruges could stand up to comparison with Robert Kraskers evocation of Vienna in The Third Man, which is pretty much the highest praise I have to give.

Rabu, 27 Oktober 2010

Hit Me With Your Best Shot: "Night of the Hunter" (1955)

"We've reached the Season 1 Finale of "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" I've had a lot of fun doing this shot-based series, wherein we choose our favorite images from films though sometimes, like tonight, when we're covering the great noir THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955) things haven't gone remotely as planned.

<--- This is the disc as I received it in the mail this morning for this post.

Obviously a disc cracked in half won't due for a rewatch and a screen capture. But, alas, I can't postpone the series every time "something comes up" which is roughly every week (and various other duties approach) so we have to wrap this up.

The Night of the Hunter (1955) tells the story of a criminal (Robert Mitchum) who is seeking the final resting place of money stolen by another criminal. Only his dead cellmate's children know the location so he's after them. The freaky shadowy movie was directed by the actor Charles Laughton, who was a three-time best actor nominee (see our "Best Pictures From the Outside In" episode on the undervalued Mutiny on the Bounty, 1935). It was his only feature film as director and as with most actors who maneuver themselves behind the camera after their leading man heyday, he wrangled fine work from his leads: Robert Mitchum, the hunter, and Lillian Gish, the guardian, are both completely fantastic in the movie. (The less said about the child performances --as I recall -- the better, but directing child actors is an entirely different skill.)

If the disc hadn't been cracked I would have had a chance to rescreen it but that will have to wait. Yet there is one image, I suspected would compete for the prize before ordering the disc. It's forever branded on my brain.



This is Lillian Gish as "Rachel Cooper" who will not sleep but keeps a vigil, certain that evil incarnate (Robert Mitchum) will visit her home. The image is so indelible and gorgeously lit by cinematographer Stanley Cortez  (look at the sharp divisions of light complicated by the slow curves of Gish's profile silhouette... it's just stunning.) One thing that fascinates me about the image, out of context, since I haven't rewatched it in, is that it reminds us of how trustingly subservient the best actors are to confident directorial visions. You can't even see Gish's face here, but damned if her work isn't absolutely crucial to the movie's success, giving it exactly the grand maternal spiritual fortitude that it needs.

Gish had to make do with an honorary Oscar in April 1971 but if there was ever a time for Oscar to thank her for her place in film history with a competitive statue, it was arguably right here. The film received zero Oscar nominations. I can't fathom why other than that it's a harsh movie that in no way coddles its audience. Perhaps it felt entirely too mercenary for the times. "Love" we can handle tattooed on a shifty man's hand. But "Hate" on his other?
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Had Laughton no mercy?

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I hope you've enjoyed this series. Maybe more of you will join as participants if there's a second season? Contrary to imagined belief this blog is not powered by Nathaniel's imagination alone. That's part of it, and the imaginations of the Film Experience columnists too, but a lot of times, posts are inspired by your comments or egged on by your e-mails or generally prepared with you in mind. Be an active participant in your own Film Experience!

We'll take suggestions in the comments for Season 2 and thoughts on the series as well as, naturally, discussion of this amazing noir. If you haven't seen it, you won't be disappointed.

"Best Shot" Friends
  • Amiresque, who joins the best shot party for the first time, chose amazing silhouettes of hunter and hunted. So many great shots featured in his posts. 
  • Brown Okinawa Assault Incident, a frequent Best Shot club member -- thank you! -- wonders about the dimensions of Laughton's studio. How did he get so much depth?  (Though his friend incorrectly attacks the great mother of screen stardom Lillian Gish for the racism of Birth of a Nation.) 
  • Antagony & Ecstasy celebrates this "grim bedtime story" for adults.
  • Serious Film compares picking a favorite shot in this picture is like trying to pick a favorite note from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony."
  • Movies Kick Ass "Grimm like (and outstandingly grim)"
  • Nick's Flick Picks can't choose just one which works out in our favor -- more of his inimitable cinematic observations for our reading pleasure.
  • Pussy Goes Grrr  "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" Mitchum is part of the landscape, an omnipresent boogeyman  
  • My New Plaid Pants reminds that he already covered this amazement in 8 shots. Hey, it's hard to narrow down.
Previously on "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"

Rabu, 13 Oktober 2010

Bad Girl

I've been bad and I'm quite behind on blogging. Supposed to be working on that "Best Shot" for this evening (La Dolce Vita) but I am a million hours behind and now the Academy has gone and finalized the Oscar Foreign Film list and the Documentary Short Finalist so there's that, too. Updating now so more on something or other in a couple of hours.


In the meantime this is a shot from Madonna's "Bad Girl" video which I've been obsessing over this week due to all The Social Network / David Fincher related posting. And I don't even like the song!  Discuss.

I promise I'm logging off of The Fincher Network now but isn't that shot heaven? Smoking kills but damn does it look good in movies/music videos. (See also: the complete works of Wong Kar Wai.) Incidentally the cinematographer on the Bad Girl video was Juan Ruiz Anchía, who hasn't worked with Fincher on any movies but his credits include the Mexican Oscar submission Innocent Voices (2004) as well as the Arthur Miller adaptation Focus (2001).Anyone remember that one with William H Macy & Laura Dern? It sure was visually showy. He also did the wee 'Witherspoon lost in the desert!' movie A Far Off Place (1993) and the 'Demi will cause the apocalpyse!' movie The Seventh Sign plus Glengarry Glen Ross and many more.

Madonna sings. Christopher Walken dances.

In completely unrelated news... My pal Nick did not like Black Swan that much. Oh no! Sadly, not everyone can love everything.






Back to work with me. kthxbye.
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Jumat, 08 Oktober 2010

BPFTOI: Driving Through the Best Years of Miss Daisy's Lives

"Best Pictures From the Outside In" is back. But, oh fiddle, because the series is so infrequent we have to keep explaining it. It's a joint production between Mike at Goatdog's Blog, Nick at Nick's Flick Picks and Nathaniel at The Film Experience. We began in 2008 pairing the most recent winner No Country For Old Men with the first winner Wings and we've been working our way inward ever since from both ends of the Oscar chronology. Get it? Got it? Good. We've now reached 1946 vs. 1989.

 These men have been through enough Daisy. Let Hoke take the wheel!

NATHANIEL: Just when you get used to things a certain way...

Nothing is more certain in life than change so it's something of a human mystery as to why we're always so surprised or discomforted by it. In the Oscar winners The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) and Driving Miss Daisy (1989), we have four protagonists who are dealing with it from the comforts and, this is a fine point, new discomforts of their own homes. When I say "dealing with it" I sometimes mean not dealing with it all. It's a testament to this double feature that there's quite a lot of truth in the coping mechanisms presented, up to and including the coping mechanism of not coping. Sometimes we all just need a little time.

(Oscar sometimes needs a lot of time, which is why he likes to reward social issues movies like Daisy that take place in the rearview mirror.)

Since I mentioned four protagonists, allow me to introduce them. I'm referring to the three World War II veterans Al (Fredric March), Fred (Dana Andrews) and Homer (Harold Russell) who are returning to the homefront in The Best Years of Our Lives and the widowed Jewess (Jessica Tandy) of Driving Miss Daisy who is holed up in her estate when she's suddenly deemed unfit to drive. I stop at four because, Morgan Freeman's Lead Actor nomination aside, I can't buy Miss Daisy's chauffeur as anything like a fifth protagonist. Though he's quite literally driving, he's incongruously but a passenger.

Miss Daisy wants Hoke to drive at the speed of walking but I want the both of you to answer the following question like you've got a lead foot and somewhere else to be. (Let's just get it out of the way and drive on). How offensive (or not) did you find Hoke and/or the movie's complete lack of interest in his story and how much of that was mitigated by the entertainments of Grumpy Old Woman?

MIKE: It's not just uninterested in Hoke's story, it's uninterested in the entire story of the black freedom movement in the three decades after World War II. The only mention we get of anything approaching the Civil Rights Movement is a 1966 speech by Martin Luther King, more than an hour into the film. The only racist violence we hear about is the bombing of a Jewish synagogue. The only racist encounter we see occurs on a trip to Alabama --so I guess Atlanta in the 1960s was a little model of cooperation, as long as the help stayed in the kitchen and didn't grumble under their breaths too much. But there was a TV in that kitchen--surely SOMEONE saw SOMETHING going on that poked a teensy hole in the "slow and steady evens the races" model this film is pushing. And that ending--"You're my best friend, Hoke"--is one of the few times you'll ever see me moved to praise the recent Best Picture winner Crash, because I sort of think Crash knew how ridiculous it was when Sandra Bullock says the same thing to her beleaguered housekeeper. But here in Miss Daisyland, there's no such thing as self-examination. Meanwhile, out in the world, while the Academy was praising carefully crafted, Old Left films about gradual social change, Spike Lee was tossing garbage cans through windows trying to get people's attention. The Academy noticed, of course--the white dude in Do the Right Thing got a Supporting Actor nomination. This film, and this window into the Academy's soul, both make me sick.

 Hollywood Race Relations: Sincere or Ridiculous?

NICK: That's a tough act to follow, so my only option is to surprise even myself by at least playing devil's advocate for Driving Miss Daisy. Just to be clear, I don't think it's a good movie, and along with Field of Dreams and Dead Poets Society, it serves as proof that AMPAS somehow Rip Van Winkle'd its way through one of the stronger years for commercial film in the 1980s. (Then again, the directors and the actors and the writers and the nominators in almost every single category had better ideas than the high-fructose consensus that emerged in Best Picture, so maybe 1989 just proves the liabilities of how the Best Picture slate is determined.) Daisy's images are almost unrelievedly similar and boring. The editor often falls asleep. The score gets hilariously bombastic and misused after that pleasingly shuffle-along title melody. The biggest problem for me is that the script and the direction seem so damned tentative about pressing further into almost any of the story ideas or thematic issues it raises.

But I have to say, on that score, the script doesn't seem inclined to poke around Miss Daisy's backstory or the dilemmas of being Jewish in mid-century Atlanta any more than it wants to poke around Hoke's past or his private life. I don't think she's any more of a "protagonist" than he is, really. When the movie clicks at all - and it does for me, just a little bit, in its closing scenes - it's because I actually do think it hints at the thinness of the bond between these characters, who never know each other very fully even as they gradually feel warmer to each other or get more involved in each other's lives. Daisy's "You're my best friend" is, after all, uttered amid a bout of dementia, and Freeman doesn't imply that Hoke agrees here at all. The golden close-up on their clasped hands is a bit much. But almost immediately Daisy cuts to a very dark long-shot unlike almost anything else in the movie, which makes Daisy herself and this plaintive exchange both look awfully feeble and cold.

NATHANIEL: Well, when your only other option for Best Friendship is your obtuse son with the wandering suthehn accent and your silent housekeeper, isn't chatty Hoke a good option? At least he'll laugh at your jokes.

NICK:  That generous sense of humor helps this movie a lot. It's one of the hundred or so ways in which Freeman manages to bat back at the cloying and insulting potentials in this script and make Hoke (for me) an intriguing, legitimate character. In terms of what Mike pointed out, I do also appreciate that quick, earlier moment when he rebuked Daisy's idea that race relations were "totally changing" in the era of King.

MIKE:  I totally agree that there should be more to this discussion than just DMD's racial politics, but I keep getting dragged back--Hoke's sense of humor reminds me of the skit in the middle of Public Enemy's "Burn Hollywood Burn" about the casting director looking for a black actor willing to play a "controversial" character (a butler who chuckles under his breath). But you were saying.

NICK: I do agree it's demented to vote this Best Picture, and a particular slap in the face in the year of Do the Right Thing (or Crimes and Misdemeanors, or When Harry Met Sally..., or Roger & Me). But I think the movie finally shows at least some sobriety and tact about exactly what kind of relationship these two have. I don't think Daisy does a very good job even at being the basically safe movie it is, but I don't know that it's fair to ask it to be Do the Right Thing, either. I'm much more annoyed by movies of this era like Mississippi Burning, which styles itself as exactly the kind of bold, historically minded, race-focused protest picture you want Daisy to be and actually distorts the record and omits black perspectives even more than Daisy does.

 "Well, I'll be. We got 9 nominations and 4 Oscars! Do The Right Thing went 0 for 2"
That Hoke... such a kidder. Wait, that was a joke, right? That didn't actu ---oh god.

NATHANIEL: I'd actually love to excuse the Academy's love of this whole mini genre of minority struggle narratives coopted to tell stories of tolerant white people (see also the previous Best Picture's episode!) as dementia. At least then, they'd have an excuse. But it's a wider problem than just Oscar taste level. Critics, media and audiences tend to embrace these films in large numbers, too.

MIKE:  OK, off the topic of racial politics, there are some things I like about this film. That snappy little jingle that pops up in the score when it's not being bombastic is tops for me. I think I like Hoke, mostly because of the gravitas Freeman brings to the character, which keeps him from drowning in the script. The glowing cinematography got old, but there's some darkness that verges on the wildly experimental, given the film's overall conservativeness: that weird "oh my god look at all our reflections in the mirror" bit during Tandy's first "spell" seems like it's dropped in from a different film, but the long, dark shot at the end that Nick mentioned is a sobering way to close things. And I sort of like Dan Aykroyd, despite the wandering accent, for his genial longsufferingness. As for Jessica Tandy, I couldn't really separate her performance from the film: it seemed like one of those "oh no this old lady's gonna die soon" awards that happened a few times (some deserved, some not) in the 1980s.

NATHANIEL: You know how difficult it is for me to praise Jessica Tandy here (given the Oscar tragedy that played out... that unspeakable tragedy that I'm always speaking about) but I do think she does fairly good work with the innocuous material. Not Oscar nomination worthy good but good all the same. I like that you can see cracks growing in her "I'm not prejudice" mantra. She's not exactly self aware but she's not exactly not either and you can see that this annoys her more than it moves her towards actual change or self examination. That feels, to me, like a cool acknowledgement of the way people often process their own failings.

And this movie can take any tiny cold snap anyone can gift it with. The cinematography was so golden soft that I felt it was constantly trying to tuck me in for bed with a very warm blanket or roll me right up into a papoose so that I'd never have to feel anything uncomfortable or chilly ever again.

But I like the chill since it helps me appreciate the warmth.

War heroes in the round: The Airman, The Soldier and The Sailor return home.

Speaking of which, how about the versatile cinematography and shot composition in The Best Years of Our Lives? I swear to god... it was like entire miniature movies in every scene. Warmth and chill and other glorious complements everywhere I looked.

NICK:  Totally! The approach to lensing, shot structure, and editing in The Best Years of Our Lives is just so inspiring. I remember being not prepared at all when I first saw the movie, because I wasn't used to looking for technical virtuosity or intense formal variety in projects that look on the surface like unpretentious domestic soapers. This is the kind of movie that Hollywood so often shoots so boringly--relying entirely on actors to drive home all the emotional beats in the script, as though trying to convey feeling through focus, camera movement, lighting contrasts, or whatever would somehow undercut those emotions. Which is funny, because just within this series, William Wyler's own Mrs. Miniver seems like a good example (as, frankly, does Driving Miss Daisy) of exactly that sort of punch-pulling movie. Still within this series, though it's nothing like The Best Years of Our Lives, American Beauty was another example that if you explore middle-class domesticity with formal flair and visual invention, the ticket-buying populace really can get excited about it.

 William Wyler in the 1940s. Did any director ever have a decade this good?
6 Features | 2 Best Pic & Dir. Winners | 3 Best Pic & Dir. Nominees |
1940s Haul for Wyler Features: 47 nominations | 18 wins
| 1 Honorary

I don't absolutely adore Best Years the way I did on first pass, but if you compare it to the chilly, self-conscious formalism of Wyler's Little Foxes in '41 or the unambitious warmth of Mrs. Miniver in '42, it's just amazing that he's able to rifle through his entire bag of technical gambits and still make the Derrys and the Stephensons and the Camerons and the Parrishes at least as dear to us as the Minivers were. More so, really.

MIKE:  I'm with you guys 100%, except the part where Nick doesn't absolutely adore Best Years like he did on first pass, because I think I love it even more this time around. It vaults into my handful of best Best Picture winners ever (which might seem like damning with faint praise). What jumped out to me most this time around was Gregg Toland's use of deep focus, which he had knocked out of the park a few years earlier in Citizen Kane. He uses it with such versatility here, and it's amazing how many different things it can do depending on the context of the scene. My two favorites were (1) the barroom scene where Harold Russell and Hoagy Carmichael were playing the piano in the foreground, Fredric March was nervously in the middle ground, turning from the piano to the far, far distant background where Dana Andrews is giving Teresa Wright the heave-ho via telephone. It's like there's a million miles between them! And (2) the wedding scene (which still makes me cry) with Andrews's face in the foreground, the happy couple in the middle, and an angelic-looking Wright in the background. Here, the focus pulls everyone together, emphasizing their closeness.

One filmmaking technique = Two entirely different feelings.

And I love your "unpretentious domestic soaper" line, Nick, because the film does feel episodic. You could "tune in" for a couple of scenes and then go do your laundry, then come back and watch a different section of the movie. Not many films feel like they can work as a whole or as bite-sized, but still self-contained, chunks. And even though it's following more than a half-dozen characters, it manages to make them more fully formed than Daisy did with three. (And the extended running time only partly explains that.) Who's your favorite? Mine is Dana Andrews's Fred, who uses Andrews's unique bruised masculinity better than any of his other performances.

NATHANIEL: Hear hear on Dana Andrews. His performance felt like a marvel of internal distress signals to me... which made his inappropriate romance with Teresa Wright so relatable; she was tuned to his frequency. Her erotic attachment to him is not as simple as "I can save him" but that element is definitely there. Fortunately, despite all the potential cliches this team is working with I feel like they just nail down the core truths of certain familiar tropes with such precision and force. One scene that really knocked me over with its expressiveness in both performance and direction -- all the filmmaking tools Nick mentioned -- was Dana's solo moment in the cockpit where he lets himself access the war memories he's been keeping at bay. I found it to be such a beautifully judged emotional climax but used as transition into the last sequences where the storylines thread back together for the wedding.

 This cockpit has seen heavy fire; this pilot is all burned out.

You know, I think today's audiences (and I'd include myself here) are missing out whenever they dismiss earlier entertainments as "simpler times". Just because the movies didn't have body counts, profanity or sex scenes, doesn't mean they weren't extremely adult in tone. In fact, it's tough for me to even imagine a modern war drama delving this deep into both interpersonal connections and abcesses. You mentioned the movie's episodic nature and maybe that's why it plays out with such modernity to me. I felt like I was watching a lost Emmy-winning series from HBO or AMC had either been around in 1946. There are just so many through lines and longform dramatic beats in the screenplay.

My least favorite of the film's three threads is Harold Russell's. It wasn't because his scenes weren't moving so much as they didn't transcend their romantic drama / war film templates as well as the other two stories did. Aside from Dana Andrews, my favorite star turn belonged to Myrna Loy. She works absolute magic in her wifely duties both to Fredric March and to the picture itself, keeping so many scenes grounded with pragmatism, patience and a lived-in resiliency. Loy gives you a real sense of both what her character was like as a wife before the war and how the war changed her even from the peaceful homefront. But despite her realistically portrayed wariness and annoyance at some of the life changes on the way, she's such a comforting grounded presence that you know her husband (and the larger movie) will be able to work through his post-traumatic stress issues and readjust as best he possibly can to civilian life.

NICK:  Agreed on Andrews: so great at charting implosive feelings, right before that became the sole province of neurotic Method tics. Agreed on Loy, whose taking-in-stride of her husband's embarrassing bender is played so simply, but is so modulated and complex. I like Wright slightly less than these two, but I like her for all the reasons Nathaniel cites. That none of these three got Oscar noms despite the juggernaut status of the film is too bad. I'm sure Andrews is too "quiet" for AMPAS tastes, and I wonder if the studio deferred to March's star power by putting all their push behind him. There could well have been category confusion about the women, but honestly. They nominated Jennifer Jones for playing a tempestuous Tex-Mex and Flora Robson for glowering in blackface. Blackface!

Fredric March is one of my favorite actors, and I have plenty of glowing things to say about him, too. I'll leave myself to one, since it overlaps with Wyler's staging idea: the famous moment when he returns home and each family member discovers his presence, one by one. Everyone's great in this scene, which uses depth of field so conspicuously you can feel the "staginess" despite the marvelous emotion that still pours out of this reunion. And I think March brilliantly accounts for some of the "staged" quality of the filmmaking into his psychological profile of the character. Al clearly likes the idea of a Heartwarming Reunion, and it's not as though he's at all insincere. But as poignant as the moment is, you see how quickly he realizes he's not ready for all this, and kind of wants to be left alone. Tearful embraces are great, but they don't tell the whole truth.

 We've got choreography! A beautifully "staged" family reunion.

I don't think all of Wyler's ideas work so perfectly or integrate themselves so well. If there's anything to be said against the movie for me, it's that you almost hear Wyler and his team figuring out what nifty lensing or staging conceit they want to try out now. It's like the directing version of Kael's notorious anti-Streep comment: click, click, click... And, way too many times, the "big idea" they bring to Harold Russell's scenes is, "Let's make the audience patiently watch while he does something in real time that you'd imagine a man with no hands could not do."

Still, the film is so obviously humane and, in ways that count, emotionally restrained enough that it never feels exploitative of Russell, or of anyone else. And I totally agree that the whole movie is a remarkably rangy, sobering, and novelistic experience. I second (or third?) every lovely thing you guys have said about it.

NATHANIEL: Novelistic is right which is why this movie could easily provoke a week's worth of conversation... but we have to draw the line somewhere.

Am I correct in assuming we all think the Homer (Harold Russell) third is the film's least effective? As someone who generally distrusts sentiment in movies (I often feel like it amounts to emotional pornography, all mechanics with manufactured emotions) I was surprised how well these scenes did work for me. And I think it's for the reasons you've stated. Yes, it's a little obvious but I admire that Wyler is willing to put us in an uncomfortable place as an audience on his way to more traditional movie warmth. More than once the audience awkwardly shares the wary emotional POV of Homer's fiance's parents. We're forced to gawk and even though our hearts are telling us this is an incompassionate place to be, you do have to wonder if you'd want that caretaker life for your daughter.

Just discussing this movie makes me want to dive back in right now. It totally earns its sentiment and that's a rare achievement.

MIKE:  Looking back over fifty years, Harold Russell’s story is the least effective, for the reasons Nick mentioned—the goal here was to have a heart-to-heart with American audiences who were going to have to get used to seeing that kind of thing, and to remind them of the sacrifices people made in the war. It’s certainly part of the overall message of the film, that war is not necessarily glorious, it messes people up both physically and emotionally, and it might make your husband/boyfriend/son seem like a stranger. But we don’t need that patient semi-lecture today; we’ve seen Platoon and Saving Private Ryan and countless other films that take that as a given. So Russell’s story is where the film seems too message-y (although I absolutely LOVE how Toland shoots his house), and it lacks the acting firepower of the other storylines, and it is too occupied with that “this is how you take off your pants if you don’t have hands” pseudo-documentary feel. But Russell’s story gave us those wonderful scenes in Hoagy Carmichael’s bar, which rank among my favorites in the movie. So there you go.

 You hardly recognize them. They hardly recognize themselves.

The absence of that “we have some tough things to tell you” attitude was what irked me the most about Driving Miss Daisy, which wanted it both ways—it’s a loving paean to a way of life that’s long since disappeared, but it’s also a (spineless) criticism of that way of life. Best Years shows us that you can demonstrate your love for small-town America while still taking it firmly to task for being bigoted, or unthinking, or unappreciative. To do it mostly without preaching is a little miracle.

Of course, next time around we’ll have preaching up to our armpits, as Elia Kazan and company grab us by the scruffs of our neck and teach us a lesson about anti-Semitism in Gentleman’s Agreement; it will
be paired with one of the weirdest Best Picture choices of all time, Rain Man, and I can only imagine how we’ll pine for the warmth and complexity of Best Years of Our Lives as we give each other those baffled but affectionate looks that Morgan Freeman kept giving Jessica Tandy. Oscars. There’s lots of them.
 Miss Daisy stubbornly insists on walking to the video store to rent Rain
Man
and Gentleman's Agreement. She doesn't know from Netflix.


NATHANIEL: Readers, back to you. Chime in!

for a complete index of this series thus far, click here.
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Links: Michelle, Naomi, Anderson, Marilyn, Pepé

I wanna be loved by you, just you... and nobody else but you. i wanna be loved by you a-loh-oh-oh-ooooone. boopboopadoo. Witness: Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe. Me likey.



Michelle Williams is really on fire these days, isn't she? Whether she's causing NC-17 ratings by being such a brutally honest actor (the MPAA can blow me when they're done gagging about Ryan going down on her in Blue Valentine) or putting artistry before fame, you have to appreciate. I love that she's doing things as resoundingly uncommercial as Meek's Cutoff in which she plays a quiet but strong-willed wife, lost in Indian country with her husband and a few other sorry travellers in covered wagons, simply because she obviously believes in director Kelly Reichardt.

Are you excited for My Week With Marilyn. That Eddie Redmayne, who will costar as a crew member on the set of the actual movie within the story (The Prince and the Showgirl) who Marilyn takes up with, sure is a lucky guy. First he gets to attack Cate Blanchett, then he gets to screw Julianne Moore and Hugh Dancy and Unax Ugalde and now he gets to spend an entire week with Michelle in bombshell mode!?!

.........i wanna be linked by you...boopboopadoo
Antagony & Ecstacy hates the Oscar hopeful documentary Waiting for Superman even more than I do. That's a lot by the way.
That Obscure Object -- yay, I'm not the only one who shares their celebrity dreams online. This one stars Naomi Watts & Liev Schreiber as flirtatious employers.
Studio Daily - 10 high points in digital cinematography. (The Oscars are a-changing)
Towleroad - I'm happy that Anderson Cooper is getting ballsier about calling people on their homophobia. The trailer to the new Vince Vaughn movie edited out a gay joke as result. Not that they took the joke out of the movie. But... baby steps.
Moviefone Pepé le Pew via Mike Myers vocal chords? I love Pepe but uh... I dunno.
Observations on Film Art likes that Costa-Rican Oscar submission Of Love and Other Demons.
MTV Naomi Watts will not appear in Eastern Promises 2. It's all Viggo, all the time.

Oh and here's my weekly at Towleroad with yet more linkable stories: Johnny Depp, Daniel Radcliffe and more.

Rabu, 06 Oktober 2010

Hit Me: "Requiem for a Dream" (10th Anniversary!)

In the "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" series we choose our favorite images from motion pictures. Next Wednesday we're looking at Fellini's La Dolce Vita (1960) in glorious black & white. Today's topic is Darren Aronofsky's haunting addiction drama... in full color.

"If this is red, I wanna know what's orange?"

Requiem for a Dream (2000)
10th Anniversary Appreciation

Requiem for a Dream warns us continually about the addictive power of drugs, dreams, and dieting... but who will warn us about the addictive properties of Requiem for a Dream? The movie is, in its own teeth-grinding way, as hard to kick as Sara Goldfarb's (Ellen Burstyn) diet pills or the harder stuff her only son Harry (Jared Leto) ingests. But I realized something during my umpteenth view that I haven't quite processed before. I rarely watch the whole movie. When the characters get high in Requiem there's often a long slow fade to white to end the scene. My fade to white is the centerpiece monologue, one of the most brilliantly shot and performed monologues ever. After it, I can't take anymore.

Ellen Burstyn is such a quivering ball of despair, held together by willfully hand-stitched delusion... "I like thinking about the red dress... and the television." Jared Leto's aftershock moment in the cab afterwards, from weeping baby to instantly stoned man, is a pitch-perfect exit scene. Aside from two brilliant performances, the cinematography by Matthew Libatique is masterful. The whites are always too white in Requiem; it's not just dope that's making them snowblind. It's a harsh world out there. Also note the sickly green light of the interior Goldfarb apartment. The outside world will swallow you up but you're no safer inside.

But for "Best Shot" let us applaud the split screen. Darren Aronofsky isn't the only contemporary filmmaker who uses the split screen but the practicioners are few. It's a surprisingly versatile technique which can reference additional artforms, show narrative parallels, provide style/eye candy, offer character P.O.V. or heighten the tension of some impending moment both images foretell. In this film, Aronofsky is mostly using it for P.O.V. purposes (Sara staring at the fridge) or as a visual metaphor for disconnectedness.

In one of the best scenes, Harry and Marion (Jared Leto and Jennfier Connelly, both giving the finest performances of their careers) do pillow talk. The images and the the dialogue convey both eroticism and emotional intimacy but the slightly out of sync eyelines and timing (note that the images aren't completely in sync since hands reach faces before arms move and the like) convey that something is broken. Their love may well be real but they're so far removed from their own realities that the connection is inherently false.


Harry: Hey, you know something? I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I ever seen.
Marion: Really?
Harry: Ever since I first saw you.
Marion: That's nice Harry. Makes me feel really good. You know other people have told me that before and it was meaningless.
Harry: Why is -- You thought they were pulling your leg?
Marion: No, no, not like that. I mean... I don't know or even care if they were. From them it was just meaningless, you know? You say it and I hear it. I really hear it.
Harry: You know somebody like you could really make things all right for me.
Marion: You think?
Heartbreaking.

And one more. In a moment of true inspiration shortly afterwards, Aronofsky reminds us of this same self-medicated disconnection in what looks like a split screen but isn't.


Sara has just begun to grind her teeth and retreats to the bathroom mirror to investigate this new development. The diet drugs have kicked in and after a closeup of her shifting jaw, this image. She's not losing weight. She's losing her self.


*
*
"Be Excited. Be Be Excited"
Best Shot Participants
 Previously on "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"
Related Reading

    Rabu, 22 September 2010

    Hit Me With Your Best Shot: Se7en (1995)

    In this film-loving series we look at movies from all over the cinematic time line and in each genre pool to select a shot that particularly resonates with us, be it for aesthetic, thematic or for simply eye candy reasons.

    This week we look back at David Fincher's breakthrough hit, Se7en (1995) which celebrates its 15th anniversary today. It happens to be my favorite serial killer picture ever, though I should note that its only real competition is Silence of the Lambs since this is an overstuffed genre with few actual classics.

    Se7en's opening credits were an instant classic of the form and unfortunately so duplicated thereafter that the jarring edits, mental/visual derangements and perfect rock track probably feel like clichés to young viewers. But Se7en absolutely unnerved when it hit in 1995. My favorite shot comes about 80 minutes in when Detective Mills (Brad Pitt) and Detective Lt. Somerset (Morgan Freeman) finally discover John Doe's (Kevin Spacey) lair, the very place those opening credits would call home sweet sick home. After some creative corner-cutting search warrant business, begin to investigate its secrets.


    Se7en, like all of David Fincher's work, is meticulously designed and this one in particular is just gorgeously shot. I consider it cinematographer Darius Khondji's best feature work and his omission from the Oscar line up that year was a real shame. That's not actually a split screen. Fincher and Khondji have made awesome use of the multi-room apartment set and smartly blocked the actors. For a brief moment before the detectives separate and cross cutting and horrible discoveries begin, we see them both searching different spaces simultaneously. There's multiple light sources and pockets of saturated color, Somerset's room has cool colors and Mills hallway is hot, rather like the personalities that make up this fractious partnership. But despite multiple lights, colors and faux split screen, the image is never muddied or chaotic, just darkly foreboding and dynamically alive both literally (the movement of the flashlight) and figuratively (what horrors lurk in these rooms?). In this shot, Mills and Somerset are almost shining their flashlights at each other, but as always they're seeing things differently.

    Incidentally this is my favorite Brad Pitt performance outside of Fight Club. It's full of the kind of masculine anguish and wounded bird magnetism that's Leonardo DiCaprio's bread and butter these days. Brad went the extra mile... that broken left wing is his own.


    6 More Deadly Sinners. That Makes Se7en
    • Brown Okinawa... looks at how attached Detective Somerset is to his job.
    • Serious Film... appreciates the craftsmanship and thinks Se7en lingers.
    • El Fanatico... gets creative like John Doe's books. Check out all these shot groupings.
    • Stale Popcorn... chooses seven deadly shots. Well, one is life-affirming.
    • Sketchy Details... absolves the detectives of their sins.
    • Plakatay... lives in the shadows.
     Other Films in This Series
    *

    Kamis, 16 September 2010

    Modern Maestros: Alfonso Cuarón

    Maestro: Alfonso Cuarón
    Known For: long takes, intellectual films that are sensuous and sensual.
    Influences: American Noir, French New Wave, Orson Welles (it's always Orson Welles ain't it?)
    Masterpieces: Children of Men
    Disasters: none
    Better than you remember: you probably love all of his stuff, but it might be time to revisit his good but lesser received films from the 90's.
    Box Office: Almost 250 mil for Harry Potter but you knew that.
    Favorite Actor: Not a lot of recurring actors, and by not a lot I mean, not any. Do you know of any? I don't.


    Orson Welles often said that sustaining a take was how one separated the boys from the men. And through cinematic history the long shot has been employed as a tool of artistic showmanship in films renowned for their languorous and contemplative pacing. While I love almost all of them, I have a special kind of admiration for Alfonso Cuarón, whose film making technique utilizes uninterrupted takes in ways that are exciting, tense and filled with life. They are, unlike many artistic long shots, easy to miss at first since they don't draw attention to themselves as a device, but instead blend organically into the aesthetic of the film. The obvious choice for an example is the car chase scene in Children of Men. Cuarón's camera swirls around the car filled with our heroes (in a rig specially designed for the shot) providing an unflinching experience of growing tension. Certainly the scene could have been a series of fast-paced, chopped cuts. But while that may have increased adrenaline (not that the scene needed any more) we, the viewers would have lost our place in that car.


    Just as a bloody shootout is the best example of Cuarón's style, it is a conflicted example of his themes. As Cuarón said when interviewed for the Oscars in 2006, "I believe in hope, but not a hoola, hoola, hope!" So car chases, and bleak futures are a necessity, but in Cuarón films there is always the slightest yet most powerful glimmer of hope where none seems likely. In a high concept just-barely pre-apocalyptic future there's just enough humanity left to sustain life. In a simple tale of hormone addled adolescents driving through a country filled with unrest toward a future of expected mediocrity there is the potential of love in unanticipated places. Even in Hogwarts wizard school where triumph over evil seems like a foregone conclusion, Cuarón brings a sense of naturalistic darkness which makes that triumph more rewarding than ever.

    Anyone highly anticipating how Alfonso Cuarón's next film will increase his ever growing status in the film community will have a long wait ahead of them. Gravity isn't expected out until 2012. The film will keep Cuarón in the realm of science fiction as it follows an astronauts attempts to return to earth and her daughter. Those of us expecting it with bated anticipation, are prepared for more stylistic audaciousness that beckons our emotional commitment and promises the hope of something slightly greater than the reality we know.
    *

    Rabu, 15 September 2010

    Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Pandora's Box (1929)

    In this series, we look at movies from all over the cinematic time line and select a shot that particularly resonates with us, be it for aesthetic, thematic or for simple eye candy reasons. Join us!

    This week we gaze lustily at...


    This is not a sex scene but a temper tantrum.
    okay okay, it becomes a sex scene.

    It's an easy thing to do. I've seen this 1929 silent (the original title is Die Büchse der Pandora) four times now and each time I'm startled anew at its carnality. It's one of the most erotic movies ever made and not just for the provoactive subject matter which follows the gradual undoing of one Lulu (Louise Brooks), a wild thing who marries up before bringing everyone down; director G.W. Pabst and cinematographer Günther Krampf partner with Brooks in continually fetishizing Lulu's porcelain flesh, painted lips, and erotic abandon.

    In fact, there are so many vigorous closeups of men grabbing at Brooks' smooth arms or shaking her with a closeup of barely clad breasts and still more long shots which make her all legs or break up her body with visible obstacles (usually men) that the film runs the risk of dehumanizing her. She is doll parts. But Brooks saves the film from any exploitative quality with the full humanity of one of the all time great silent performances. The Look she gives her eventual husband's fiance when they're caught in the act, is one of the most salacious things you'll ever see. Brooks understands that Lulu is capable of self awareness and smug ownership of her inner floozy. But Brooks is not, to the film's infinite benefit, content to play merely one horny or bitchy note. She makes Pandora, excuse me Lulu, a treasure chest full of contradictions, emotions, and often curious or self destructive impulses.

    this is not a sex scene but a death in progress.
    it was meant to be a sex scene (wedding night)


    Because of the time frame in which Louise Brooks performed, she's often discussed in conjunction with the Garbos and the Swansons. But one of the things she does with Lulu is more in keeping with what Marilyn Monroe was so famous for, despite the two actresses being nothing alike in shape, persona or acting style. She believably gifts her character with both fully developed sexuality and surprising innocence.

    There is so much to say about Pandora's Box -- one could write a book! But like the movie men in her thrall, I can't look away from Brooks for even a second to delve into them. Her starpower is so overwhelming one merely succumbs. Brooks is exhilarating, Lulu is exhausting.

    this is not a sex scene but a farewell.
    the farewell is on account of it not being a sex scene.

    Even her step son Alwa is pussy whipped. He just collapses into her lap on her wedding night. It's my choice for the film's best shot. It's gorgeously lit, capturing the sensual beauty of flesh, satin gowns, manly curls and erotic connection. Lulu loves Alwa, too... in her way. This is also a key moment in the storytelling. Lulu's husband (and Alwa's father) is about to enter the frame from the left with a gun in hand. The husband/father has already shown an odd habit of passing Lulu on to his son while warning him against her. We're only 40 minutes into the movie and this odd dynamic is about to occur again

    Like many noirs that followed Pandora's Box into cinemas over the next two decades, the movie can be read as a nightmare sexist parable about the dangers of female sexuality. But Pandora's Box is modern enough in content and star performance and complex enough in mise-en-scène to offer up alternative readings. There are so many disturbing shots of men fondling and chasing money with as much fervor as they pursue Lulu, that you could just as easily read it as a nightmare parable about the dangers of insatiable male greed.

    Again, you could write a book. If you haven't seen the movie, I can't recommend it highly enough. A

    Lulu's Other Men
    • Against the Hype, who has been a passionate and faithful participant in this series, celebrates Lulu's impulsive behavior and utter inability to predict the future. I can predict the future: Colin will have a great experience at college seeing all the amazing films he's jotted down.
    • Pussy Goes Grrrr even uses Lulu as their longtime banner beauty
    • Serious Film stares and stares at that salacious look I described earlier and ponders its prismatic wonder. It's a beautiful write-up on the power of star acting.
    • Movies Kick Ass looks at Lulu twice, the static painted Lulu and the ever-changing physical version. Pabst uses art in such interesting ways in this movie. Again... you could write a book!
    • Stale Popcorn can't choose but gladly jumps backwards in time for the " 'classic' because it's good, not 'classic' because it's old" Hit Me With Your Best Shot films.
     Other Films in This Series

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