Pleasantly Surprised and Seriously Offended

I would be remiss if I did not post about the Academy Award nominations, which were announced this morning.

It's way too early to handicap the races, but it's not too early to congratulate Terrence Howard for his leading actor nod. This was Howard's breakout year, and he knocked other more obvious contenders (ahem, Russell Crowe, ahem) out of the running.

It's also not too early to be pleased that Capote is getting the attention it richly deserves (direction, motion picture of the year, adapted screenplay). I know it is easy to focus on Hoffman's stellar work, and I'm pleased the Academy realized that it was the result of a trifecta (acting/directing/writing) working in perfect harmony.

As for the offenses (for they are numerous and grievous), let me just ask you this: who woke up one morning and said, "You know, that Keira Knightley is definitely on the same level as Judi Dench is all the time and Felicity Huffman is in Transamerica"? Who thought that up? I'm willing to accept that this version of Pride and Prejudice is all kinds of kick ass if someone will only help me come to terms with this insanity.

Finally, finally, someone needs to offer me the crack pipe next time I hear of more praise for Crash. This has got to stop. Crash isn't that good. I saw other, much better movies last year. It is not an achievement in anything, unless you think coaxing a great performance out of, say, Don Cheadle, is some big thing. I mean, isn't he "on" all the time? As for the lauded performance of Matt Dillon, again, I question the sanity of these people. Why single him out if it was such an ensemble movie? Why not single out Terrence Howard? If Jamie Foxx could score two different nominations last year, I think Howard deserves the same consideration.

Broadcast News (1987)

Outline: Young, driven news producer Jane Craig (Holly Hunter) works with talented reporter/best friend Aaron Altman (Albert Brooks) until she's assigned to charismatic (albeit less talented) Tom Grunick (William Hurt).

Could they be rivals for the same anchor position and the same woman's heart?! Oh, I bet you figured that out already.

Listen, can I tell you something? I don't get this movie. Imagine, if you will, that because Jane's played by Hunter, she's the Holly Hunter specialty: prickly and super intelligent but still warm and passionate. So, basically, pretty awesome.

Naturally, her best friend is in love with her. Who wouldn't be? Sadly, between Brooks and writer/director James L. Brooks, Aaron's such an asshole that I never wanted her to end up with him. He's miserable, so he seeks to make her miserable in turn. That's not what best friends or people who are in love with you are supposed to do. How can he honestly tell Jane that he "semi-seriously" thinks that Tom is the devil, prevent the two of them from being together at every turn, and then tell Jane that he's mad at her? What the hell is that? Am I supposed to sympathize with this jerk?

I guess journalistic ethics mean nothing to me because I didn't entirely understand why what Tom did was so wrong. I liked Tom. I liked Jane with Tom. He wasn't perfect by a long shot, but he cared about her, and he liked her the way she was (condescension and all). I think Jane's problem could have been solved if she could just get Tom to understand why what he did was a breach of ethics.

So this leads me to the important question of the evening: do I even like writer/director James L. Brooks? He's directed five movies, I have seen four. Terms of Endearment rocks - no doubt about it. I have no real feelings about As Good As It Gets, but I think whatever I used to like about it has been diluted by its numerous airings on the superstation. Spanglish? Well, I saw that.

I'm going to level with you: James L. Brooks movies kind of suck. I think the characters are supposed to come off as real because of their quirkiness or eccentricity (for more on the problem with that, click here), but, most of the time, they're just mean. I don't like that. I don't want that from a movie. It's like watching only the episodes of Gilmore Girls written by Daniel Palladino. You're selling yourself short. B

My real concern in posting today, though, is the results of last night's SAG awards, which I can assure you I watched. Reese Witherspoon? Yes. Philip Seymour Hoffman? Absolutely. But the cast of Crash? WTF?! There was nothing wrong, per se, with any individual performance in the movie. Even so, as I read somewhere and would surely link to if I could remember, any film that cites race as the only source of conflict in the world today is just as ridiculous as one that pretends that race doesn't matter.

Sin City (2005)

Oh, how I do love RE-view time. I expect you know the rules by now.

How is it possible that I wrote the entire review last time without talking about the electric guitar driven score? That's crazy talk! John Debney, Graeme Revell, and Robert Rodriguez (director/editor/cinematographer extradorinaire) rock my world. When I find myself walking down the street, humming the selection that you can hear with the menu on the DVD, feeling (to be honest) sexier, I can't help but thank these gentlemen for their fine work.

While Jessica Alba's many failings were a bit more obvious to me this time (I know she's smokin', but people have really got to stop putting her in movies), I did notice that she had a personality for half a line. Apparently a green screen and Bruce Willis bring these things out in her. So much the better I say.

If anyone let me down during my second screening (which was very shortly followed by my third screening), it was Brittany Murphy. I've never thought much of the peroxided actress, and I confess that most of the time she handles her simple role well. That is, until, she's forced to tell Dwight (Clive Owen) what a damn fool he is. Murphy, there's a little trick to clunky/unrealistic dialogue - you either say it winkingly or you pretend it's perfectly normal. There's no half way, no in between. Your over the top deliver (are you hoping for one of those out-of-left-field supporting actress nominations?) grates.

Personal loyalties to Owen aside, Mickey Rourke owns this movie. By the time he utters his rousing speech about the "old days, the bad days, the all-or-nuthin days" being back, I'm so completely on his side that it's a little scary. He's the magnetic north of these disparate yet connected stories.

I still love every violent, vengeful, blood soaked frame. Can't wait for the sequel. A+

Munich (2005)

Premise: After 11 Israeli athletes are murdered at the 1972 Olympics, Golda Meir (Lynn Cohen) asks former bodyguard Avner (Eric Bana) to lead a team to find and kill the 11 men responsible for that bloody day. Ephraim (Geoffrey Rush) connects Avner with a getaway driver, Steve (Daniel Craig); a clean-up man, Carl (Ciaran Hands); a toy-designing bombmaker, Robert (Mathieu Kassovitz); and a documents expert, Hans (Hanns Zischler). Avner makes a contact with a man of no political accord, Louis (Mathieu Amalric), who trades information for an extravagant fee.

I'm just going to get the little stuff out of the way, so I can move on to the big issue at hand.

If the real Golda Meir was anything like Cohen's portrayal, that she was one of the most amazing women to ever walk the earth. To reconcile such a difficult political and religious decision while still acting like everyone's favourite spunky grandmother is an impressive feat.

Bana continues to astonish as a dramatic actor, mining the doomed dramatic fate business he took on in Troy. Avner's almost compulsive need for their victims to understand why they had to die was utterly compelling. It's difficult to imagine such a squeamish assassin, given that his squeamishness was more moral than physical.

All of the team worked together splendidly, but it was with a touch of sadness that I watched Craig as a hip swaggering, blood thirsty, accent nailing South African. He's so great a chameleon that you can hardly recognize him from role to role, and I'm more than a little sorry that we are going to lose him to 007 for at least the next few years. Oh, well, maybe he'll do one flick and quit. I can dream, right?

I would like to take a moment to point out how distractingly stylish Louis was. Open market shopping on a Parisian bridge, double breasted suit, three different patterns? What does this man want from me?

John Williams steals music, "era of the musical footnote" be damned. The under current of tension that he builds to such dramatic heights (with texture instead of dynamics) leading up to the first kill is powerful . . . until you realize that it's putting you in mind of Bernard Hermann's fantastic work in Psycho.

Eric Roth's screenplay, with touch ups by Tony golden boy Tony Kushner? Excellent.

Moving right along to the matter at hand: my relationship with director Steven Spielberg. Sometimes, a lot of the times even, I wonder what the big deal about Spielberg is. After all, the man doesn't direct movies, he directs events. To be honest, I've only seen a dozen or so, and I haven't fallen head over heels for many (maybe Catch Me If You Can and Saving Private Ryan).

And yet, with the exception of one sequence toward the end, this work was flawless. All the right notes hit and never without exceptional consideration and purpose. When he filled the screen with his final shot, I actually muttered, "son of a bitch." He's just that good.

I feel as though I should point out how heavy this movie is. I could barely lift my shoulders, utter a sound, or maintain a thought for hours afterwards. It doesn't mean that you shouldn't see it, and immediately, but simply that you should prepare yourself. A

P.S. Saw Martin Scorsese on Dinner For Five yesterday, making yesterday one of the greatest days ever.

The Very Short Take

A challenge: to write no more than one paragraph plus a one sentence plot summary on each of the seven (7!) recently viewed titles that will follow.

Chaplin (1992)

Summary: British vaudeville perfomer Charlie Chaplin (Robert Downey, Jr.) moves to America, becomes film sensation, marries a bunch of different women (Milla Jovovich, Deborah Moore, Diane Lane, Moira Kelly), purports to have a "wild side."

I think that we supposed to think that he had a wild side because of his many ladies, but I found that bit hard to swallow since he married them all. Sure, if he had slept around, I would have agreed, but it hardly seems all that wild to divorce people who, say, fake pregnanices to trap you into marrying them. Downey Jr is fantastic as always and wonderfully likeable as the Tramp. Overall, kind of long and not always that interesting. Well, I liked Kevin Kline as Doug Fairbanks. B

And since I'm already on to Kline . . .

The Big Chill (1983)

Summary: Seven college friends (Kevin Kline, Glenn Close, Tom Berenger, Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Mary Kay Place, and JoBeth Williams) gather together for the weekend following the death of their friend Alex.

Fantastic soundtrack! Too bad the movie isn't very good at all. Everyone gets together to bitch and moan about how none of their lives are what they thought they would be 20 years after they graduated from college. Of course they're not. At least these people have the good sense to recognize that the fact that they can get together again after long separations and still feel this natural with each other is something special. Sure, the cast gives off a great feeling of lived-in intimacy, but the plot pushes those feelings so far beyond the bounds of sanity that I balked. Ah, well, still gives off enough warm fuzzies to be tolerable. B

Behind the Red Door (2002)

Summary: A dying man (Kiefer Sutherland) cons his sister (Kyra Sedgwick) into caring for him in his final days, while facing their violent past.

Stockard Channing's also along for the ride. You know, there are these movies where the performers outshine their material by far. This is one of those movies. It's not very good, although I'm always ready to throw myself in with the three leads. Too bad the pacing couldn't have been picked up to make the plot seem more interesting. C

Speaking of such movies . . .

It's All About Love (2003)

Summary: John (Joaquin Phoenix) flies into New York in order to finalize his divorce from famous figure skater Elena (Claire Danes), only to discover that her life may be in peril.

Once you've seen one movie with subplots about flying Ugandans and snow in July, you've seen 'em all. Even Sean Penn's teeny cameo was wasted. Simultaneously being about nothing and making no sense in a mean feat, but writer/director Thomas Vinterberg pulls it off. I think he was trying to say something about disconnection and loneliness, but the execution was hidden. D

Should I have a deep, burning desire to see Phoenix, Danes, and Penn on the screen together again, I think I'd rather watch their three scenes in . . .

U Turn (1997)

Summary: A drifter (Sean Penn) accidentally rolls into a crazy/backwards small town, his car is taken hostage by an insane mechanic (Billy Bob Thornton), and a husband (Nick Nolte) and wife (Jennifer Lopez) each hire him to kill the other.

I certainly hope Phoenix and Danes are happy with themselves. Their three scenes were the only things that kept me from going out, locating director Oliver Stone, and kicking him repeatedly. You, sir, are the most overrated director whose "art" I have ever had to suffer through. Get over yourself. Quick. The 30 seconds in the movie after Penn beats up Phoenix where Phoenix informs Danes that he "had to defend [her] honour, baby" and then Danes yells at Penn's retreating back, "YOU KILLED HIM!" are the only reasons I won't fail this movie. D-

Bottle Rocket (1997)

Summary: Once Anthony (Luke Wilson) is released from the mental institution, he, Dignan (Owen Wilson) and Bob (Robert Musgrave) form criminal gang, are forced to go on the lam, and eventually hook up with Mr. Henry (James Caan) and his superior gang.

You know, when I was first watching Wes Anderson's feature length debut, I found it more inspired but less assured than the work that followed. Thinking back on it, it's a lot funnier than I gave it credit for at the time, but I'd prefer watching something like Rushmore. I like Anderson much more once he's perfected creating this insular worlds that seem impossible but manage to be believable. B+

Pretty Persuasion (2005)

Summary: 15 year-old Kimberly Joyce (Evan Rachel Wood) brings chaos to her high school and creates a media frenzy when she and two friends (Elizabeth Harnois, Adi Schnall) accuse their English and drama teacher (Ron Livingston) of sexual assault.

By far the best of the bunch. Wood continues to prove herself as one of the best actresses ever, delightful here as a manipulative teenaged hellion, and she inspires great work in everyone who surrounds her. It's too bad they pushed it too far at the end. B+

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005)

Brief: Lucy (Georgie Henley) is the first to find the secret of the wardrobe in the professor's (Jim Broadbent) mysterious old house. At first, no one believes her when she tells of her adventures in the land of Narnia. But soon Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and then Peter (William Moseley) and Susan (Anna Popplewell) discover the Magic and meet Aslan (v. Liam Neeson), the Great Lion, for themselves. In the blink of an eye, their lives are changed forever.

I copied that from the back of my copy of the book. Works for me.

I must tell you that I was relieved when I discovered that the film had been shot in chronological order. Explains a lot, doesn't it? At first it seems that director/co-writer Andrew Adamson has quite the bunch of woefully undertalented kids on his hands, but they, to a certain extent, grow on you as the film marches on. I still think that their characters are reduced to their roughest definitions, no nuance included.

Of course, the greatest challenge facing Adamson and co-writers Ann Peacock, Christopher Markus, and Stephen McFeely must have been how to stretch C.S. Lewis' masterwork into a feature length film. It's a beautiful, wonderful story, to be sure, but it's also on the short side. Lewis, bless his heart, got kids: he knew what to describe and what to leave up to the imagination. In one interview I read, Adamson said he surprised himself by how much of the novel existed only in his imagination. Quite the task, then, combining the imaginations of generations into something they could all connect with and recognize.

The CGI work is stellar, Tilda Swinton is convincingly evil as Queen Jadis/the White Witch, but my heart firmly belongs in the camps of the Beavers (Ray Winstone and Dawn French) and Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy). Mostly the Beavers as the Pevensies' temporary parents, though.

I must confess, despite being keenly aware of the live actors' shortcomings, I felt intensely emotionally attached to this picture. Any time anything, anything positive at all happened, I found myself welling up with tears. It's hard to be cruel to something so engaging. A-

P.S. Seriously, Madison, that guy?

Capote (2005)

Premise: Truman Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) follows a story about the murders of a family of four in a small Kansas town with his research assistant, Harper Lee (Catherine Keener). He develops a particularly close relationship with one of the killers, Perry Smith (Clifton Collins, Jr.).

To quote one lady I heard in passing, "It's a psychological thriller. It's brilliant. And it's about writers."

Is it ever. I'm just finishing up Robert S. Boynton's The New New Journalism, and it informed my interpretation of this film. The book is an interview series with those he feels are the best representatives of what he calls the new new journalism. Each interviewee is asked nearly identical questions, from their body of work to the types of pens they prefer. I'm a whore for detail, obsessed with not how things work but how people work them. Each writer faces the same problem: how to justify an unethical career.

You always betray your subject and often yourself in order to tell a story. Even more so, you often exploit the suffering of others for your personal profit. This issue, I believe, is at the heart of Capote.

How Hoffman managed to transform his gravelly voice and bulking frame into Capote's effete body and lithe mannerisms, I will never know. He's gone - just gone. Disappeared into a role so wholly consuming I'm surprised we got him back. It was something his chameleon qualities, if you can imagine, only previously hinted. Beyond that, to take this role on . . . bold, ballsy choice. Capote, in his fawn coat and sweeping scarf, stands out against the plain landscape and offends the detective working the case (Chris Cooper). A glint in his eye, and the next day he appears in dark suit and tie. Mimicry and subtle manipulation.

Collins Jr. infuses Smith with many of the same qualities, a shadow of the master. Even Capote notes their similarities, remarking, "It's as if Perry and I grew up in the same house. And one day he went out the back door and I went out the front." A twist of fate saved him from Smith's eminent fate.

By the time Smith and Capote have their inevitable stand off (a quiet iteration of questions, the former demanding the title of the book and the latter needing the requisite details of that night in order to finish said book), it's infused with more tension than any time Jack bellowed for someone to TELL HIM WHERE THE BOMB IS. The results are devastating. Capote's manipulation of Smith is so complete that you've all but forgotten who the real villain is. When Smith describes the first shock of violence, you sputter as though your throat was slit.

Ballsy work on the parts of sophomore director Bennett Miller and screen adapter Dan Futtermen. And, as further proof of Miller, Futtermen, and Hoffman's beautiful symmetry together, they even managed to make me feel a bit sympathetic for Capote at the end. To realize the role he played in the deaths of Smith and Richard Hickock (Mark Pellegrino), to discover that the one thing that he believed separated them he had unwittingly destroyed must have been terrible. Devastating, even. A+

P.S. A very special shout out goes to Amy for telling which trailer I had heard that song in. Good work, my friend.

P.P.S. Evghenis, check out this year's Movie Club. They address many of the same questions you often ask me.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

Premise: In the summer of 1963, Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) work as shepherds up on Brokeback Mountain. They love they find there continues on for twenty years in the brief respites from their married lives with Alma (Michelle Williams) and Lureen (Anne Hathaway), respectively.

Listen - I know I act like it's my job to sit in judgment of each and every film I come across, and I know that I invite you to discuss your judgments in the comments section. But, if you are going to sit in judgment against this film because of its subject matter, read something else today. Each time Gustavo Santaollala's simple, twangy, hear string tugging acoustic soundtrack starts up, I'm overcome with a plethora of emotions that I am at a loss to name, and I don't want you to take that away from me. Not today.

Larry McMurty and Diana Ossana's screenplay, based on E. Annie Proulx' short story, beautifully bare. No wasted words appear on this screen. Strength, sorrow, and passion fill every frame and never need something as useless as exposition to carry them through.

Gyllenhaal - you're great, and you know it. Pass go, collect your supporting actor awards, and truck right along to the great career you have ahead of you. Jack does all the talking in this relationship, and he may even think that he's the one that perpetuates it, but I think we all know better than that. I'm sorry, Gyllenhaal, your performance was passionate and powerful, but I really don't have any words for you. All words have already been used up by two other men.

Despite "A-list" and "bankable" labels those cracked out nutters have applied to you, Ledger, you and I know better. This is something else entirely - the beginning of an amazing, unprecedented comeback. You were the one who set my chin to trembling from the get-go. In your hands and on your shoulders, the movie rested. And you succeeded. You brought maturity, masculinity, vulnerability, and sorrow to the role. You're the reason that, even as I write this, I'm racked with sobs again. Every syllable that came out of Ennis' mouth was fraught with indecision and self-doubt, as though each word that escaped had lost a battle with his soul. This performance is bone crushing.

And so I turn to you, director Ang Lee, for you have given me, and the audience, this gift. It is you, and you alone, that can tell such glorious stories. You take things that I have no connection with, no understanding of, and you tap into each characters' humanity in such a way that you drain the compassion from my marrow. Under your guidance, every frame is packed with detail and emotion to connect with. Your wordless message resounds in ways that I will never be able to describe or forget.

A haunting love story, a heart breaking tragedy, and a bittersweet, lingering film that I've been waiting for all year. Perhaps longer. A+