Saturday, April 28, 2007

Week in Review: 4/27/07

Here is a new feature for us here at Outsider, a weekly review in which we'll hit all the big topics of the week, detail the big openings of the weekend and will recommend a movie of the week, which will be readily available on DVD. Hopefully this will provide the readers with a quick recap of the hot happenings in the City of Angels as well as point everyone in a new and interesting cinematic direction. This will be updated every Friday evening.

Quick Hits of the Week

-With the recent passing of Jack Valenti this past Thursday at the age of 85, a pivotal chapter in Hollywood has come to a close, one that has left and will continue to leave a lasting mark on the industry. Valenti, the first president of the MPAA, forever changed the ways in which Hollywood worked that rivals the changes in the era of Will Hays and the Production Code. Derided by many (mostly independent) filmmakers as an overt form of censorship as well as a way to keep the industry power in the hands of the major studios, the MPAA is an undeniably controversial institution. For anyone looking to learn more about the MPAA, This Film Is Not Yet Rated is a funny and intelligent piece of muckraking that looks at the rating system.

-Reports came out this past week that had the estimated budget, post marketing, for Spider-Man 3 somewhere in the range of $300 million, a staggering statistic. Sony, Columbia and the film producers all deny this figure but were unwilling to comment on an actual number. Luckily for the studio, Sam Raimi's newest installment in the lucrative franchise has been moving tickets efficiently, despite not opening for another week. Many midnight showings on Thursday evening have already sold out and Movietickets.com has said that tickets are selling at triple the rate that Spider-Man 2 did.

-I Am Legend, Will Smith's newest vehicle, will include a scene that has cost over $5 million to produce. Given the fact that the entire film's budget was intended to be roughly $150 million and this is only a flashback sequence, one can only imagine that Warner Bros. may be looking at a higher cost than originally thought. Legend is scheduled for release in December and is based off of Richard Matheson's book.

-The Tribeca Film Festival, Robert De Niro's pet project, began on April 25th and will run until May 6th. Various screenings take place throughout Lower Manhattan over the next week or so. There are numerous highlights that are outlined in an informative NY Times companion article. If you're in the NY area, it might be worth your time to check out some flicks over the next couple of days.

Weekend Openings

Next
Starring Nicholas Cage, Julianne Moore and Jessica Biel. Directed by Lee Tamahori. Written by Gary Goldman, Jonathan Hensleigh and Paul Bernbaum. Based on the short story "The Golden Man" by Phillip K. Dick.

The Invisible
Starring Justin Chatwin, Margarita Levieva and Marcia Gay Harden. Directed by David Goyer. Written by Mick Davis and Christine Roum. Based on the novel Den Osynlige by Mats Wahl.

The Condemned
Starring Steve Austin, Vinnie Jones and Rick Hoffman. Directed by Scott Wiper. Written by Wiper and Rob Hedden.

Kickin It Old Skool
Starring Jamie Kennedy, Maria Menounos and Christopher McDonald. Directed by Harvey Glazer. Written by Trace Slobotkin, Josh Siegal and Dylan Morgan.

Jindabyne
Starring Laura Linney, Gabriel Byrne and Chris Haywood. Directed by Ray Lawrence. Written by Beatrix Christian. Based on the short story "So Much Water Close to Home" by Raymond Carver.

Movie of the Week

Shaun of the Dead

With Hot Fuzz in theaters, it is time to go back and watch Pegg and Wright's breakthrough film, which is alternatingly hilarious and horrifing. A modern classic that effortlessly blends comedy and horror must be seen to be believed. Described as a "zombie romantic comedy" by the creators, Shaun is one of the more original films of the past decade and is worth every second of your time.

Have a great weekend everyone!

The Good Shepherd: Review

One would think that the birth and initial years of the CIA would be a subject that would be fairly easy to make into an interesting, exciting film that would provide a good amount of tension and character for the audience to sink their teeth into. Oh, how wrong we are, as with The Good Shepherd, Robert De Niro has seemingly found a way to avoid any of that, leaving in his wake an overlong, undeveloped bore that save for a single performance, would be nothing short of a complete waste of three hours. The performance, put forth by Matt Damon, is the sole guiding light in a film that accomplishes so little in its running time that one finds it difficult to understand exactly why it had to be so long.

What makes this so painful to stomach is the fact that De Niro had proven himself a competent director with A Bronx Tale, by no means a masterpiece but certainly passable, and the skills that he displayed there are so conspicuously missing here. One would think that, given his superior acting background, he could at least garner some interesting performances from his skilled cast. Rather, his actors seem to be sleepwalking for most of the film, their performances wooden and devoid of emotion, except for Angelina Jolie's bizarre outbursts but we'll get to those later. Damon is the only person whose performance is stellar and he single handily attempts to carry the monumental weight of the film. Unfortunately, by the conclusion, the film's proven too difficult for even a seasoned veteran to make interesting, although we shouldn't fault Damon for trying. Everyone else ranges from downright dull to simply solid, never spectacular, a massive disappointment given the combined resumes of the performers.


When a cast is so dull, one has to look to two individuals, the screenwriter and director for blame and The Good Shepherd is no different. De Niro takes Eric Roth's minimalist script and sucks out whatever life was on the page. Now, it is unclear as to what was cut from the film for release and what role that would have played in the overall, finished product but as The Good Shepherd is, it is either way too short for all the characters and themes it deals with or it is way too long and needed massive cuts, eliminating entire characters from the film. The film feels more like a shell than a completed picture, with a cold, stern emotional core that despite its two hour, 40 minute run time, feels like an untapped resource. Whenever De Niro tries to elicit a response, the music swells and the melodrama ratchets up. One would think that De Niro had more cinematic sense and talent than Mel Gibson but apparently, they both went to the same school of over the top, under skilled directing.

The audience is left in the dark about why these people are so detached. The marriage of Damon's Edward Wilson and his wife, Angelina Jolie's Margaret Russell, is nothing short of confounding and the only time you see these two people, they are in the midst of an argument but it is never clear as to why. Their relationship is so underdeveloped in every way that the audience feels nothing about their suffering marriage, just that Jolie would get off the screen as soon as possible. Her performance is a resounding disappointment and short of Girl Interrupted, has now gone almost an entire career without making something worthwhile. It is amazing that more people don't realize this, but her creative output has been dismal for over 10 years now. Equally as bad is Eddie Redmayne's performance as Edward and Margaret’s son. By the film's end, I was rooting so hardly for Damon to leave his family just so I wouldn't have to spend any more time with their performances. While it is easy to recognize Roth and De Niro trying to show the destructive nature of the CIA for its employee's family lives, it is handled with subtlety of a kick to the groin and seems pained and heavy. I felt like I had a firmer grasp on the effects of espionage on one's personal life when I was watching Damon's other spy flicks, the Bourne series, than I ever did in The Good Shepherd.


Speaking of which, the Bourne series has more entertainment value in its opening 5 minutes than The Good Shepherd does in its unwieldy runtime. De Niro and Roth take this material so seriously that they forgot that there had to have been some laughter in the opening days of the CIA. No one could possibly go that long without a single moment of happiness in their lives and still get up every morning. To the best of my memory, Damon's steely exterior doesn't crack once and he wears a grimace the entire movie, never even bothering to give a hint of a smile. Maybe it's because he's spending too much time and energy watching his co-stars dismal performances, realizing that he could have been hanging out with Clooney and Pitt as opposed to making this underwhelming, undercooked, dull as dirt "thriller" with no heart.

**/*****

Hot Fuzz: Review


Film geeks around the world can breathe a heavy sigh of relief as Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright have come through again with Hot Fuzz, a blisteringly funny, keenly intelligent look at the world of action films, lampooning every film under the sun from 80's classics like Lethal Weapon to the more recent Michael Bay blockbusters, such as the Bad Boys series. The attempts at satire are noble and the results are pure dynamite. Almost every joke works and by the delirious conclusion, the references are flying quickly across the screen in a furious pastiche and from the editing to the outright homoeroticism, Hot Fuzz is dead on and in the form of This is Spinal Tap and Dr. Strangelove, ends up being so close to its source, it literally becomes it. As a result, the film is not only the best comedy thus far in 2007 but the best action film as well and unless there is a surprise sleeper in the summer, may very well be still holding those two titles come year's end.

Thanks to a memorable script, co-penned by Pegg and Wright, the cast is able to sink its teeth into a plethora of comic situations and take advantage of every opportunity. Brilliantly combining more or less every action cliché from the past twenty years and filtering it through their own twisted cinematic vision, Pegg and Wright have concocted scenario after scenario that easily play into their overall plot. The film can feel episodic at times, but as it picks up steam, the gags are being brilliantly and effortlessly weaved into the narrative progress. This allows for our hero to ride into the town square on a (literal) majestic white horse for his final confrontation with the increasingly hostile townsfolk.


Pegg, who not only co-wrote but is the lead in Hot Fuzz, plays Nicholas Angel, a London cop who thanks to his high arrest record, angers his superiors (Bill Nighy, Steve Coogan, Martin Freeman) and gets shipped off to Sandford, a small township in the English countryside that is a perpetual contender for "Best Village in the UK". Much to his chagrin, he is met there by a low crime rate and a relatively inept police department filled with a pair of mustached detectives (including Paddy Considine in a side splitting performance) and a chief investigator (Jim Broadbent) who is more concerned with ice cream and cake than catching criminals. The chief's son, played by Pegg's Shaun of the Dead co-star Nick Frost, quickly takes to Angel's action filled background and like a devoted puppy, sticks to his heroic sidekick like glue. Pegg and Frost are simply wonderful together, retaining the chemistry that helped to make Shaun of the Dead so likable. They are perfect foils for each other with Pegg's deadpan seriousness clashing with Frost's manic energy in an explosion of comedic bliss. The rest of the cast, highlighted by the likes of Timothy Dalton and Stephen Merchant, is equally as strong and as a whole, the cast is a best comedic ensemble since 2005's 40 Year Old Virgin.

Wright's direction is always assured, even in the craziest moments of the film. The film's breathless conclusion, as mentioned above, is a sublime mixture of comedy and action and Wright handles it all with ease, wonderfully aping the absurd camera movements and compositions of Bay. In fact, the action sequences work so well that Bay might serve to take notes from Hot Fuzz in order to inject his films, which have gone from bloated, entertaining guy flicks to downright bores, with some of the vitality and energy that they have so painfully been missing over the past years. Despite its relatively marginal budget, never once does the film feel like anything other than a pure summer blockbuster. It is filled with fast paced editing and visual delights that, unlike its larger budget, American counterparts, actually succeed in carrying the film's energy from one scene to another. The difference here is that the energy is a blissful comedic one, not a pretentious seriousness that plagues so much of the big studio output and sucks the fun out of what should be entertaining but ultimately forgettable pop convections. Wright and Pegg seem to recognize that too many of summer blockbusters are devoid of not only fun but intelligence as well. Thankfully, Hot Fuzz has both in droves.



There are only a few films in recent memory (Tarantino's Kill Bill saga, Shane Black's Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang) that so brilliantly cross references our cinematic past and creates such a stunning pastiche of where a certain genre has been. The kaleidoscopic nature of Hot Fuzz could become tiresome but the film is an invigorating, exciting experience that leaves the viewer slightly dazed but utterly enthralled. With its superior action sequences, this is a film best experienced on the big screen (thankfully, it seems like people are coming out to see it; my theater was almost completely full and despite only playing on 800 or so screens, it was able to pull in $5.85 million in its first weekend). There are some moments of graphic violence but for the most part, the action is over the top and comical. A riveting, hilarious experience from start to finish, Hot Fuzz is the best new film thus far this year and will quickly enter the realm of comedic masterpieces that are simply dizzying with their antics and gags.

*****

Monday, April 23, 2007

Jules et Jim: Review

Very few films are able to be called an undisputed masterpiece, a film so convincing, so revered that everyone likes it. Citizen Kane is one such film. Jules et Jim is not. Enjoyed by critics but divisive with audiences, it is truly a love it or hate it experience. The film is difficult to enter, is filled with alienating characters and at times, feels more like an early Godard film than Truffaut. However, by film's end, there is an emotional impact and oddly endearing connection with the three primary characters that Godard could never conjure and feels like Truffaut at his best. With three stellar yet difficult lead performances, Jules et Jim is a film designed to enthrall the hardened film fans but there are enough interesting New Wave moments sprinkled throughout to please even the most casual film fan, provided they check they expectations and viewing habits at the door.

Truffaut exploded on the scene in 1959 with The 400 Blows, as fine a movie as ever has been made about childhood. It signified the true birth of the French New Wave and with it, an era of unprecedented creative outgrowth in French Cinema began. It would be a time that would forever alter the world's views about cinema, in terms of what it was and what it could be. The members of the movement took the commercial form of filmmaking and made it acceptable to call it art, recognizing the greats of the Hollywood studios while simultaneously pushing the boundaries of what film had been. Advances in technology and narrative and thematic form poured out of
France and a new type of film was born. That type of film was Jules et Jim, a film that not only exudes an undeniable joy for life but a love of filmmaking as well. The true brilliance of the French New Wave was in their ability to identify their films as exactly that, a film that celebrated the medium, the celebrated the restrictions that they so gleefully broke through, that celebrated the style, the language, the form of the movies. Deftly mixing documentary footage with a variety of cinematic techniques such as montage, freeze frames and the like, Truffaut creates a kaleidoscope of images that swiftly move across the screen, a sublime mixture of life in France between the two World Wars.


At the center of this life are three people, Jules, Jim and Catherine, involved in a romantic triangle that lasts decades. The relationship is endlessly frustrating, as Catherine is shared between the two men, best friends for years. Catherine is a complex and difficult character. She is unfaithful and never seems to fully commit to either Jules or Jim but rather just lead them along, until she senses a moment when she can gain an upper hand in the relationship and usually does so. It is equally frustrating that both Jules and Jim are blinded by their love for this woman, who doesn't seem to deserve anything anyone could offer her. It is the miracle of Truffaut though, that by film's end, the audience has developed a strong emotional bond with each of these characters despite each have such glaring personal faults. The characters in Truffaut's screenplay, adapted from the book by Henri-Pierre Roche, are painfully human and are richly drawn and developed. In a time where so much of mainstream filmmaking, American or otherwise, is completely devoid of not only legitimate characters but also any sensible narrative complexities, Jules et Jim still feels like a breath of fresh air, an invigorating watch that reminds the audience as to what film can be in the hands of a capable master, a title that certainly applies to Truffaut.

By the end of it all, I found myself most attached to Jules, who throughout the film has to deal the closest with Catherine, having been married to her. When it becomes clear that Catherine has been unfaithful and continues to be, Jules is left facing the prospect that the woman he loves, his wife, the mother to his daughter, doesn't love him anymore. In an effort to keep her in his life, he asks, pleads Jim to marry Catherine so that he can still see her. Jim obliges having loved Catherine all along. However, Jules, knowing Catherine's devious ways, is cautious with Jim, trying to warn him of the consequences of the relationship. Of the three, Jules seems to worry the most about the well being of his friends. Thanks to a wonderful performance by Oscar Werner, Jules comes alive, jumping vibrantly off the screen. Love or hate her character, Jeanne Moreau is nothing short of stunning, giving a well rounded, thoughtful performance as Catherine. Much like Jules, Catherine seems to leap off the screen and into the hearts and minds of the viewers. Finally, Henri Serre is great as the last part of the triangle and his reserved performance is a welcome foil to Moreau's manic energy. The combined three contribute a ensemble performance for the ages, one that elevates the film to another level.

The film is a tad disconcerting, with the characters (at least for Jim and Catherine) cavorting in complete disregard for other's feelings. This (as evidenced by the appearance of its poster and various clips throughout) was a huge influence in Cameron Crowe's Vanilla Sky, and fans of that film should most definitely take the time to sit down and watch Jules et Jim as it is vastly superior. While this is a seminal film of the one of the most important cinematic movements of all time and deserves to be seen by anyone remotely interested in film, I would not recommend it as a starting point to the French New Wave. As I mentioned above, it can be difficult to find entry into it and I wholeheartedly admit that I had trouble getting into the film until I realized I couldn't stop watching it. Truffaut sutures the viewer in almost without them noticing, an invisible stitch that will stick with you for the rest of time. If one is looking to get into the New Wave, it is easiest to start with The 400 Blows, another Truffaut feature and then move onto Breathless before venturing into the world of Jules et Jim. However, once one hits that point, prepare yourself for a splendid, magical trip that is worth every minute of its duration.


*****

Zwartboek: Review

It would dishonest of me to admit that I was eagerly anticipated Paul Verhoeven's newest creation Zwartboek (Black Book). In fact, to say that I was dreading it was probably a statement closer to the truth. When looking at Verhoeven's past work and seeing that for every film worth watching (Robocop, Total Recall) there is at least another completely devoid of worth (Showgirls, Hollow Man), with many of the failures being more recent in his career than successes. Granted, I thoroughly enjoyed Starship Troopers, gore and all, but the idea of Verhoeven tackling the subject of the Dutch resistance in World War II seemed off putting to me. After all, Verhoeven was too over the top, too melodramatic to make an effective, tasteful film about the largest war of the 20th Century. As the buzz around the film continued to build, my interest was piqued and thankfully, for not only myself but war film fans everywhere, Verhoeven has worked a minor miracle and in the process, created a wonderfully over the top and endlessly entertaining look at the resistance. Zwartboek has a quick, sharp wit, is filled with some fantastic performances and is surprisingly intelligent, a trait that has seemed to escape Verhoeven's work in recent attempts.


Led by Carice van Houten, who plays Rachel, a Jewish woman whose family is mercilessly cut down by a German patrol during their attempt to escape occupied Holland, the cast digs into the material. Van Houten is a revelation, a bona fide star in the making. Her performance is the emotional center of the film, lending weight to even the most melodramatic moments. Rachel is a strong, independent woman, completely in control of her decisions and is an equal match to the more socially powerful military men she deals with. In other words, she is the exact opposite in execution as Nomi Malone in sexuality although probably close in terms of Verhoeven's aim. Van Houten takes every bit of the material with the perfect blend of playfulness and devotion and gets the absolute most out of her character, something that hasn't happened in a Verhoeven film in a long while. Also excellent is Sebastian Koch, fresh off of The Lives of Others, who plays both Rachel's assignment and love interest. Koch's character isn't as rich as Van Houten but his portrayal of a German officer with a heart of gold is morally complex, adding an additional weight to the film. By creating an almost sympathetic German that battles often times unsympathetic resistance fighters, Verhoeven crafts a moral dilemma for the audience that is difficult to absorb and formulize given Hollywood's history of morally conservative World War II films.

When viewed in relation to Melville's Army of Shadows, Verhoeven's Black Book stands up remarkably well. While it never quite reaches the heights of Melville's astounding work, together, they provide an interesting and in-depth look at the role that the various resistances had during the war. Verhoeven's direction is actually well suited for the material as he is able to create a classic sense of suspense that is unlike Melville's work in Army of Shadows. Where Melville's tension is nearly unbearable in its realism and seriousness, Black Book relies on the Hollywood war epics of old, all excitement and daring and never a sense of foreboding danger. A method that must have felt dated and overused 15 years ago, feels like classic escapism given the more realistic bent that most WWII pictures have taken since the early 90's with Spielberg's Schindler's List.

Black Book is more The Dirty Dozen than Saving Private Ryan. It is almost a relief that one can go to a war film and not walk out feeling like the world is collapsing, but just revel in the old fashioned tales of blinding heroism, granted Black Book's take on the subject remains modern. There is too much moral and thematic complexity on display here to truly be popcorn fare but its a rare film that is both intelligent and fun. Verhoeven's unapologetic filmmaking, the very trait I thought would ruin the film, lends itself perfectly to the material. It is a war film that is refreshingly, pulpy fun at a time when to be anything other than deathly serious about war films is considered classless.


The script, penned by Verhoeven and longtime co-writer Gerard Soeteman, is as entertaining as it is long but is filled with enough twists and turns that the story moves quickly enough that the film never wears out its welcome. The dialogue is snappy and sharp and the characters, while stereotypical at moments, work fairly well as foils for each other. The dichotomy between the resistance and German soldiers is particularly notable as neither can easily fit into two distinct categories. For every moral German, there is an immoral member of the resistance and vice versa. Despite being packaged as a war flick of old, there are some remarkably fresh ideas on display that warrant a viewing.

This isn't a flawless film, far from it. It does run a little long and could use some trimming near the film's conclusion. After the war ends, there is still a good amount of material to cover and while it all remains entertaining due to the twisting nature of the plot, it does drag a bit. With a running time of just about two and a half hours, it is not necessarily a film for the impatient despite its fast moving pace. Also, as with any Verhoeven film, there is going to be a fair amount of graphic content, both violence and sex. This will be off putting for some but as I've mentioned before, the film never feels heavy and the weight of its subject matter is handled with relative ease. Above all else, the film is war film as entertainment, not as a message movie. It harkens back to the days of Hollywood yore, albeit with the typical Verhoeven twist. For fans of the director, this should be considered mandatory viewing as it is easily his best film in 20 years. For those who are on the fence, go see it merely for Van Houten smoldering performance and the utter entertaining nature of the thing. The first true pleasant surprise of 2007.

****/*****

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

L'armee des Ombres: Review

Every once in a while, a film comes along that warrants unbridled celebration and demands a large audience. Unfortunately, for L'armee des Ombres (Army of Shadows), Jean Pierre Melville's look at the French Resistance in WWII, that audience seemed forever elusive, largely due to the fact that it had never seen much play outside of its native France, despite its release date of September 12, 1969. That is, until last April, when it finally saw release in US theatres, thankfully allowing American audiences to experience a true masterpiece and one of the finest films of the past 50 years. This is no exaggeration, as Army of Shadows is Melville's crowning achievement, a deeply nuanced and compassionate film that heroically portrays the brave struggles of the French freedom fighters in a realistic and moving manner. Led by Lino Ventura and the rest of the spectacular cast, Melville's vision is an impeccable creation of gripping tension, leaving the audience emotionally and mentally exhausted by film's end.

Melville, who has been widely praised for his wonderful crime thrillers Le Samourai and Le Cercle Rouge, ventures into his past for this story of the French Resistance. As someone who was involved with the resistance, Melville's personal experiences shine through the film, creating a stunningly realistic depiction of the men and women who gave their lives for their (occupied) country. Melville clearly understood the inner workings of these freedom fighters, their fears and their hopes and desires, and those feelings are beautifully illustrated here. Never once during the duration of the film does it remotely approach the gleeful romanticism that dominated the wild antics of a film like The Great Escape, which is about a similar (not identical) group of soldiers fighting a hidden, small scale war. Rather, there is a sharp and dark cynicism that permeates from the screen and from the get go, the resistance's cause seems hopeless, an uphill battle that will never be won outright, a war where even the smallest achievements are celebrated as major breakthrough. The subject matter is undeniably heroic yet is never hokey. It never dips into the Hollywood pantheon of glorious, rousing war films but like Melville does with his smaller in scale noirs, there is an obvious influence albeit one that has been warped and twisted to fit the directors vision.

The film, which so brilliantly keeps its narrative at a small, personal level, despite its far reaching epic story begins in gripping fashion with a static shot of Nazi troops goose stepping down the Champs-Elysees, in front of the Arc de Triomphe. They start far in the background but take a sudden right turn and begin marching directly at the camera. As they get closer and closer, the camera's unflinching eye remains steady, documenting the ever growing line of German soldiers inhabiting the streets until finally, with a devastatingly effective freeze frame, the motion stops, mid step as the first solider marches over our view, crushing the view, placing the audience in a submissive, subordinate role, one not entirely dissimilar to our soon to be introduced protagonist, Phillippe Gerbier. Brilliantly portrayed by Ventura, Gerbier is a richly developed character full of moral ambiguity. As a primary figure in the Resistance, Gerbier recognizes the difficulty of their position, of the moral boundaries that they regularly have to break in order to mount a successful campaign against their German occupiers and Ventura expertly walks the line that Gerbier faces, most notably in an initial execution scene in a small cottage on the French Coast. In it, never once does Ventura allow the scene to be anything else than a pained, gripping and deeply affecting sequence during which a traitor is brutally gagged and strangled. The scene is horrific in its realism and serves as a perfect representation of the larger film. Its difficult to watch but impossible to look away from.

Melville's true achievement here is how effortlessly he carries over the exciting tension of his noirs into this setting, keeping the tension intact but rather than having a more lighthearted feeling to it, he imbues it with a continuous sense of dread and foreboding. Unlike, say Hitchcock's tension, which almost seems significantly more playful, a piece of cinematic trickery if you will, Melville is deadly serious and never has the gleeful edge of the seat suspense of a Rear Window or North by Northwest. This is not to decry Hitchcock's form of suspense (there has never been any better) but merely to praise Melville's willingness to stick so closely to his subject matter, his devotion astounding. As an example of the effective nature of quiet builds of suspense, there are few equals to Army of Shadows. Much of the tension comes from his brilliant mise-en-scene, each shot lovingly composed and colored for maximum impact. Combined with the deft editing by Francoise Bonnot, the film is a visual stunner despite its dark settings. One needs to look no further than when Gerbier is hiding in a dark, abandoned farm house with only a small kerosene lamp to light the dank rooms. Even with the minimal lighting, the shots are perfect. The same can be said for the film's new 35mm print, which has been through a lovely restoration process resulting in a crisp, clean picture.

It is shocking that this film had not seen release in America until so recently but its unanimous praise has shown that any length of time would have been too long. As it stands now, Army of Shadows is an unrivaled wartime thriller, a genuine masterpiece and a surefire contender for one of the best films of all time. It is honestly and truthfully, that good. If this doesn't cement Melville's status as a top 5 French director, nothing will as he rightfully deserves a place in the pantheon of Truffaut, Godard and Renoir. There should never again be a conversation regarding the major achievements of French cinema without mention of Army of Shadows. It must be noted that for a film that is nearly 40 years old, its timely nature is truly amazing and along with The Battle of Algiers represents one of the finest examples of art that document and explore the dangers of resistance. Much like The Battle of Algiers, this should be required viewing for Americans as it provides an alternate, different way of thinking in regards to the continuing war in Iraq. This film's quality is undeniable and god willing will be able to claim its rightful place in the ranks of the all time greats.

*****

Maltese Falcon: Review

The Maltese Falcon is frequently discussed as one of the finest achievements in American film, a claim that even upon first viewing, does not seem far fetched. A progenitor of the film noirs that would later go on to dominate post-war American cinema, John Huston's directorial debut is a bracing, hard hitting detective thriller that is every bit as effective today as it must have been upon its initial release more than 60 years ago. Released in October of 1941, a mere month and a half before America would be brought into the Second World War, The Maltese Falcon almost perfectly captures Dashiell Hammett's razor sharp, hard as nails prose and stands as the adaptation of the great American master. Prior to viewing Huston's coming out party, I have to admit that I was skeptical that the film would feel dated and would not live up to nearly deafening praise it receives. Featuring a fantastic script, wonderful lead performances and steady direction, The Maltese Falcon soars away as one of those films that lives up to the hype.

Anchored by Humphrey Bogart's now legendary performance as Sam Spade, this seminal film is a moment of distinct change in Hollywood, launching not only Huston, one of the great auteurs, and his career, it signaled a change in cinematic thinking, directing Hollywood into a period that would become increasingly dominated by cynical, world weary filmmaking. With the output of the 1930's centered on escapist fantasies, designed to provide reprieve to Americans to the harsh realities of the Great Depression, Huston's adaptation must have seemed particularly shocking. Morally, it’s ambiguous at best and often times Spade, the film's hero, portrays a me first attitude that would become a touchstone of the anti-heroes that inhabit the dark corridors of noir. Bogart, as Spade, is brilliant, imbuing his character with a intoxicating charisma that allows the audience to look beyond Spade's obvious faults to end up rooting for him, even when he is double crossing his partner or his lover.

Where Bogart was a burgeoning star prior to The Maltese Falcon, it was with Huston's vision that allowed him to shoot to super stardom and begin a 10 year period in which he would make classic after classic, including Casablanca, To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Key Largo and The African Queen, many of which he would star under Huston's capable direction. Bogart tears through his lines with a determined ferocity and my oh my, what lines there are. Huston's screenplay is blistering, one of the pinnacles of the craft, with his dialogue perfectly recreating the machine gun prose of Hammett's literature. Peter Lorre, one of the great character actors of the classic film, is superb here, as the shifty, conniving Joel Cairo, walking the line between dangerous and hapless perfectly. The audience is never quite sure what to make of Cairo, who despite his quiet demeanor and small size, is quick witted and a worthwhile foil for Bogart's quick talking Spade. The scenes between Bogart and Lorre are wonderful to take in, as two of the all time great actors as the heights of their power plow through Huston's spectacular script.

Arthur Edeson, one of the underrated DP's in the Studio Era, fills the screen with one memorable image after another, foreshadowing, by almost 5 years, the expressionist lighting that would separate Noir from it counterparts. When one looks at late 30's, early 40's American filmmaking, there are four films that stand out as being genuinely visually innovative, Ford's Stagecoach, Welles' Citizen Kane, Huston's The Maltese Falcon and Curtiz's Casablanca, all of which were released within a couple years or so of each other (Edeson is responsible for Falcon and Casablanca, Bert Glennon for Stagecoach, Gregg Toland for Kane). Huston's camera moves stealthily through the sets, crafting epic shots with ease and fluidity that makes many of them invisible, even to the discerning eye. Even in 1941, at a point when Hollywood was reaching the peak of the studio system, refining the process in which classic after classic was being pumped out of the backlots across town, The Maltese Falcon stands out as a stunning achievement, a film so ahead of its time, only films like the ones mentioned above (actually excluding Casablanca, which while a fine film, it is more of a perfect combination of proven elements than a necessarily groundbreaking accomplishment) stand on the same level as Huston's film.

Much like Kane, The Maltese Falcon came as a complete shock to the town, a film so well put together, so different, so fresh and exciting, all done with a debut director and one not quite star. These films were far ahead of their time and even today, are timeless creations that have lost nothing in the past 65 years. Now take a minute and stop to think about that number. This is a work of art, roughly triple my age that, if released today, would dwarf everything being put out today. Technically, narratively, emotionally and mentally dwarf every last film (Ok, maybe not every film but there are an extreme few, say 2 or 3 that can hold a candle to Falcon). A staggering achievement from a collection of people who would soon be known as undeniable geniuses, The Maltese Falcon is a dark trip into the heart of a city, one teeming with greed, violence and sex and its a trip that this writer would gladly take over and over and over again.

*****

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Le Cercle Rouge: Review

Few films can claim as much influence over their genre as Le Cercle Rouge, Jean Pierre Melville's crime thriller from 1970 that brilliantly re-invents the wheel and even 37 years later, seems as fresh and innovative as it was when it was originally released. A meditative heist film featuring the indelible Alain Delon, Le Cercle Rouge is a quiet stunner, with pitch-perfect pacing and style to burn, and deserves every second of screen time it inhabits. Unlike so many of the crime thrillers of today, which furiously rush around trying to throw twist upon twist with no vision of the larger picture, Melville's concoction is a slow, contemplative classic, completely willing to take its time building up to the astonishing heist sequence, a nearly 25 minute sequence devoid of dialogue. Everything leading up to this masterful sequence is equally as satisfying and upon the film's conclusion, it is one of the quickest (and coolest) 150 minutes of your life. Taking the minimalist hipness of Le Samourai to its breaking point, Melville creates a film that is quite frankly transcendent: it's too pop to be considered high class cinema but it is too thoughtful to be a popcorn flick. Delon, in the type of role that he built a career around, is perfect, as is the rest of the cast, all playing their part with a bracing precision that is never over the top and always, without fail, wonderfully understated. It is this understatement that is the key to the film's continued and seemingly effortless success.

To talk about the story of Le Cercle Rouge is almost pointless, as it is fairly simple and any description cannot do the film justice. Basically, it tells the story of a just released convict, an escaped convict and a disgraced cop and their attempt to steal 20 million dollars worth of jewels. It is what happens in between that is simply magical and defies any sort of explanation: it really must be experienced to be believed. For any fans of Michael Mann, John Woo or Quentin Tarantino, Melville's work will feel worn in and welcoming in its style. It shares the cool, calculated style that Mann has been continuing and perfecting with works such as Heat, Collateral and his most recent masterpiece Miami Vice. Tarantino's and Woo's pop philosophizing fits perfectly with Melville's and it is no wonder that both cite the French director's work as a cornerstone of their filmmaking. In fact, Melville is the perfect combination of all three, a deft blend of style, violence and honor, three characteristics that define the three modern masters' work.

Melville was a self-proclaimed American culture junkie, even going as far as adopting Moby Dick author Herman Melville's last name as his screen persona. His influences shine brightly here as the great American Noirs of the late 40's and early 50's dominate the tone of Le Cercle Rouge. The Asphalt Jungle in particular, in its exploration of a jewel heist weighs heavily on Melville's cinematic shoulders but as all masters can, he is able to subtlety alter Huston's vision to his own means, grabbing what he can while remaining truly original. Where Le Cercle Rouge differs from its noir predecessors is in its contemplative nature and while the post war American crime classics always bordered on the pulpy nature of Chandler and Hammett, Melville's creation is more introspective and philosophical. Much like Godard's classic Breathless, Le Cercle Rouge never feels like a B-movie when in reality it is one right down to it's gritty, violent core. It masquerades itself as an art film with its A-List cast and director but make no mistake, first and foremost, it is an abashed, gripping thriller brimming with realism. It's not a film for everyone, however. It requires close attention and a solid patience level but for those willing to invest themselves, its worth the trip. The Criterion Collection released the complete cut (which for years had been unreleased and unavailable in the US) a few years back and as always with Criterion, the presentation, packaging and extras are splendid. They enhance the film and for the majority of us unable to find this at a revival house, it is the next best option.

For many Americans, Melville remains somewhat of an enigma, overshadowed by his French contemporaries such as Truffaut and Godard, who at the time were literally reinventing cinema in front of the world's eyes. However, with his entire filmography now readily available (or soon to be, Army of Shadows will be released by Criterion in mid-May) to the general public, his place in history should be assured. His films are refined, thoughtful and entertaining, three aspects that are rare in current crime cinema. In fact, with the exception of Mann and exceptions such as LA Confidential and Brick (and others), today's crime flicks are a dime a dozen with little in the tank but thankfully, with films such as Le Samourai and Le Cercle Rouge waiting in the wings to be rediscovered by the current cinematic generation, the genre is not dead, just laying in dormant, waiting to rear its vicious head.


*****

Das Leben der Anderen: Review

It is with no surprise that, given the current political climate, Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's feature length debut, The Lives of Others has been so widely hailed by American film critics. With its incisive attacks on the government monitoring of the GDR (German Democratic Republic), it is particularly timely given the continuing discussion around the use of the Patriot Act, a piece of legislation that has been under constant fire by the liberal thinking members of our society. However, to label the film as anything remotely closely to a masterpiece would be misleading as, despite a number of interesting moments, the film never seems to pick up steam, choosing to meander around its subject matter than take a hard driven approach through it. This is not to suggest that it is without merits, as it certainly is, but unlike Francis Ford Coppola's under seen The Conversation, which examines the moral and intellectual ramifications of monitoring other's while remaining a tense thriller, The Lives of Others never achieves the sort of excitement and danger that its material so desperately requires.

Instead, the film imagines itself as a political and human drama and under those terms, it is an unbridled success. It tells the story of a Stasi official, Gerd Wiesler, who is given the task of spying on a local playwright, Georg Dreyman, and his lover, Christa-Maria Sieland, a burgeoning actress. The further Wiesler gets into his investigation, the more emotionally involved he becomes and as the film progresses, he finds it increasingly difficult to separate his work from the pseudo-relationship his eavesdropping has allowed him to create. All the principle actors are good, especially Ulrich Muhe, who as Wiesler crafts a complex character that, rather surprisingly, by the narrative's conclusion, ends up driving the film's emotional punch. Muhe is brilliantly nuanced, lending a subtlety to the performance that is widely unseen in mainstream American film. Without his presence, The Lives of Others would be a completely different film, but Muhe refuses to turn his character into a cardboard cutout, instead, making Wiesler painfully human. Sebastian Koch and Martina Gedeck, as the couple Wiesler spies on, are both efficient if unspectacular, paling in comparison to Muhe but competently handling the material.

The script by Donnersmarck is something of a mixed bag. It is undeniably politically aware, with a sharp eye for the climate in which the narrative takes place, and its characters are well drawn but it always feels like its going somewhere, yet never reaches that moment. Given the material, one wishes that there was a little more excitement injected into the proceedings rather than just steadily moving through the narrative. Combined with the film's restrained style, The Lives of Others never approaches the level of effective thriller even though it always seems to be hinting at that path. Instead, it defiantly remains on a dramatic path and at times, is a complete bore. Donnersmarck obviously displays a great deal of knowledge about the time period in question and has a number of interesting and compelling observations about the actions of his characters that he gratefully states subtlety, allowing his audience to come to their own conclusions about the film. Had he included some more solid thriller elements, this film could have quickly approached classic status, rather than seeming like an interesting distraction.

The biggest question revolving around The Lives of Others at this point is whether or not it deserved it's Oscar win for Best Foreign Film, beating out such competition as Guillermo Del Toro's brilliant Pan's Labyrinth and the answer there is a resounding no. Where as Del Toro's masterpiece is a riveting blend of fantasy, politics and genre filmmaking that packs a wallop of an emotional punch, The Lives of Others seems like a small political drama. I don't want to suggest that The Lives of Others is a bad film, as it is far from that but Pan's Labyrinth is so good, so advanced that few films from 2006 can stack up with it. It was out righted robbed of its Oscar but I suspect that history will find that it holds up better in the long run. It is a awe-inspiring blend of Del Toro's penchant for gore with a human, heartbreaking story that is nothing short of astounding. Where The Lives of Others is able to succeed Pan's Labyrinth is in its timely nature. At a point where the question of one's privacy is reaching a feverous pitch, The Lives of Others resonates deeply. Had it been willing to take a less intellectual, more thrill based approach, it may have been able to enter into Pan's sphere rather than being known as one of the films that stole the Oscar from its rightful owner.


****/*****