Hi everyone! Happy Labor Day Weekend...
"Ain't Them Bodies Saints" is a quiet and impressionistic little film that evokes the work of Terrence Malick while establishing David Lowery as a director to watch. Set in and around a small town in Texas sometime in the 1970s, Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck star as Ruth and Bob, childhood sweet hearts separated at the beginning of the film by a crime that puts Bob behind bars. Ruth is pregnant and has a daughter, Sylvie (sweetly played by twins Kennadie and Jacklynn Smith), whom she raises on her own under the watchful eye of Skerritt (a terrific Keith Carradine), her childhood guardian, and Patrick (a sweet and sweetly sympathetic Ben Foster), a local cop. Four years pass. Bob escapes from prison and makes the trek back home with the intention of reuniting with Ruth and Sylvie.
I won't say anything more about the plot which isn't really the driving force behind my recommendation. What impressed me most about this film were the performances of its stars, Bradford Young's understated yet lush cinematography and its overarching sense of atmosphere. I've liked Ms. Mara's work in "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" and "Side Effects". But here I found her to be somewhat of a revelation. Her performance is effortless. You feel her loneliness, her love for her child, and her dread at the inevitability of Bob's return but it all registers so quietly. She inhabits this role so completely you almost forget she's acting. The same can be said for Mr. Affleck, who's always been an interesting actor, much more so than his older and better known brother, Ben. As Bob, Mr. Affleck brings an intensity and a certain kind of vulnerability to a character that doesn't merit sympathy. And yet you care about him while hoping at the same time he's unsuccessful in achieving his aim. As the third point in this rather conventional love triangle is Ben Foster's Patrick, the small town cop whose unrequited love for Ruth really provides the emotional core of the film and gives it its heart. Mr. Foster's performance is graceful and understated and utterly real. You just can't help but root for him.
"Ain't Them Bodies Saints" is a refreshing change of pace from Hollywood's bombastic summer blockbusters, most of which have either bombed at the box office or underperformed this year. This is a film of few words, gorgeous photography, and captivating performances that need no artificial amplification, CGI effects, graphic violence (though it isn't without its bloodshed), or gratuitous sex. It is the perfect film to kick off the Fall season and it is my pick for best film of 2013 so far.
Have a good holiday weekend.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
Movie Review: "Lovelace" -- An Astonishing Star Turn from Amanda Seyfried
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Monday, August 5, 2013
Book Review: "HHhH" -- Heydrich, WW2, the Czechoslovakian Resistance Movement, and an Author's Angst
Hi everyone!
Are any of you familiar with Operation Anthropoid? No? I wasn't...and unless you're a World War Two aficionado or a scholar of 20th Century Czech history, you probably aren't either. And for this reason, French novelist Laurent Binet's curious yet ultimately rather compelling historical novel "HHhH" may be of interest to you.
I picked it up a couple months ago at the Waterstone's book store on Piccadilly in London. It was one of those Buy One Get One Half Price deals that spell trouble for hopeless bibliophiles like me. The cover is very striking -- a black-and-white photograph of an SS officer with the letters "HHhH" printed in rather dramatic block fashion across the officer's face, obscuring it completely. These same letters provide decoration both on the book's spine and the edges of its pages. The overall impression made by the packaging is harsh and rather subversive, not necessarily something I'd want to be seen reading in public...unwholesome and dirty, if you will.
The novel itself is perfectly respectable. Fascinating even. It tells the story of Reinhard Heydrich, head of the SS during World War Two and the man responsible for setting in motion the Final Solution. Heydrich reports directly to Himmler but, according to the novel, "Himmler's brain is called Heydrich", the acronym translated into German spells "HHhH"...hence the title.
There are actually three stories that weave together during the course of the novel's nearly 300 pages: the story of Heydrich's rise to power; the London-based plot to assassinate Heydrich, organized by the Czech government-in-exile and the Czechoslovakian resistance movement; and, rather obscurely, the story of the author (Binet)'s struggle to write a strictly fact-based account of an influential if not pivotal moment in World War Two history without creative embellishment. All of these combined amount to a novel that is alternately thrilling -- especially once the assassination plot and its aftermath kick in -- yet frustratingly confounding.
The novel succeeds best when the author gets out of the way and gets down to the business of telling a great wartime adventure tale. This isn't to trivialize the history of the early days of the Holocaust or the evil mind(s) responsible for sending more than six million Jews and other minorities to their deaths. It's just that Binet's attempts to analyze the psychological make-up of Heydrich and his cohorts aren't particularly engaging and don't really reveal anything we don't already know or can't readily surmise. Although I will say the depiction of the massacre at Babi Yar is chilling.
Our heroes, the Czechoslovakian parachutists Gabcik and Kubis, are suitably dashing yet rather vaguely drawn. I think part of this vagueness is due to the fact that the author seems to consciously keep the reader at a remove from the characters and the action, jumping in with annoying frequency to ruminate over the role of the narrator and whether or not he is doing his characters a disservice by relating their lives through a fictional lens. Frankly, I just didn't care about this existential debate. I wanted to know whether the assassination plot upon which the novel hinges is carried off successfully or not. And for this reason, I found the last third of the novel unputdownable. The action is fast and furious and even though you know things probably aren't going to end well for our heroes -- the author (and history of course) basically informs us of this right at the start, you keep hoping for the best.
I daresay "HHhH" could make a cracking World War Two film. All the elements are there. Pare down -- or cut altogether -- the author's existential angst, and you've got a really rather excellent historical novel that sheds light on an important event that contributed to the turning of the tide against the Germans in 1942. I found the first half of the novel a disjointed slog but somehow Binet manages to pull off a tour de force that kept me turning pages long into the night. In this regard, the novel should be considered a success...but only for the most patient and dedicated of readers.
Special commendation should also be given to Sam Taylor's excellent translation from the French.
Are any of you familiar with Operation Anthropoid? No? I wasn't...and unless you're a World War Two aficionado or a scholar of 20th Century Czech history, you probably aren't either. And for this reason, French novelist Laurent Binet's curious yet ultimately rather compelling historical novel "HHhH" may be of interest to you.
I picked it up a couple months ago at the Waterstone's book store on Piccadilly in London. It was one of those Buy One Get One Half Price deals that spell trouble for hopeless bibliophiles like me. The cover is very striking -- a black-and-white photograph of an SS officer with the letters "HHhH" printed in rather dramatic block fashion across the officer's face, obscuring it completely. These same letters provide decoration both on the book's spine and the edges of its pages. The overall impression made by the packaging is harsh and rather subversive, not necessarily something I'd want to be seen reading in public...unwholesome and dirty, if you will.
The novel itself is perfectly respectable. Fascinating even. It tells the story of Reinhard Heydrich, head of the SS during World War Two and the man responsible for setting in motion the Final Solution. Heydrich reports directly to Himmler but, according to the novel, "Himmler's brain is called Heydrich", the acronym translated into German spells "HHhH"...hence the title.
There are actually three stories that weave together during the course of the novel's nearly 300 pages: the story of Heydrich's rise to power; the London-based plot to assassinate Heydrich, organized by the Czech government-in-exile and the Czechoslovakian resistance movement; and, rather obscurely, the story of the author (Binet)'s struggle to write a strictly fact-based account of an influential if not pivotal moment in World War Two history without creative embellishment. All of these combined amount to a novel that is alternately thrilling -- especially once the assassination plot and its aftermath kick in -- yet frustratingly confounding.
The novel succeeds best when the author gets out of the way and gets down to the business of telling a great wartime adventure tale. This isn't to trivialize the history of the early days of the Holocaust or the evil mind(s) responsible for sending more than six million Jews and other minorities to their deaths. It's just that Binet's attempts to analyze the psychological make-up of Heydrich and his cohorts aren't particularly engaging and don't really reveal anything we don't already know or can't readily surmise. Although I will say the depiction of the massacre at Babi Yar is chilling.
Our heroes, the Czechoslovakian parachutists Gabcik and Kubis, are suitably dashing yet rather vaguely drawn. I think part of this vagueness is due to the fact that the author seems to consciously keep the reader at a remove from the characters and the action, jumping in with annoying frequency to ruminate over the role of the narrator and whether or not he is doing his characters a disservice by relating their lives through a fictional lens. Frankly, I just didn't care about this existential debate. I wanted to know whether the assassination plot upon which the novel hinges is carried off successfully or not. And for this reason, I found the last third of the novel unputdownable. The action is fast and furious and even though you know things probably aren't going to end well for our heroes -- the author (and history of course) basically informs us of this right at the start, you keep hoping for the best.
I daresay "HHhH" could make a cracking World War Two film. All the elements are there. Pare down -- or cut altogether -- the author's existential angst, and you've got a really rather excellent historical novel that sheds light on an important event that contributed to the turning of the tide against the Germans in 1942. I found the first half of the novel a disjointed slog but somehow Binet manages to pull off a tour de force that kept me turning pages long into the night. In this regard, the novel should be considered a success...but only for the most patient and dedicated of readers.
Special commendation should also be given to Sam Taylor's excellent translation from the French.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Movie Review: "The Canyons" -- Delusions of Something But Not Sure What
Hi everyone!
"The Canyons" is probably the most strangely disappointing film I've seen all year. I wasn't sure what to expect. I went into it knowing that it wasn't going to be a good movie, and yet I hoped I might find something in there to redeem it. And how odd is it to say that the best thing about the film was the performance of James Deen, the rather dubiously famous young porn star who's making his mainstream debut here.
Yes, this is a Lindsay Lohan vehicle. Yes, this is a film directed by the once great Paul ("Taxi Driver") Schrader. Yes, it was written by Brett Easton Ellis, perhaps the greatest novelist of Gen-X angst there's ever been. And yes, the film feels very much the product of Mr. Ellis's twisted yet oh so glamorous imagination. It's got a Hollywood setting and beautiful actors but that's about all it has going for it. At the very least I was hoping for some decent camp or some first rate scenery chewing, neither of which is to be had.
There's not even much of a plot. Christian (James Deen) and Tara (Lindsay Lohan) are a couple (I think). They live together in a rather swanky pad in the Hollywood Hills. Christian is a producer(?) and I think Tara is an actress, but it's never made clear. Tara is secretly seeing or at least at some point has hooked up with an aspiring wannabe actor Ryan (Nolan Funk) whose current girlfriend Gina (Amanda Brooks) is a yoga instructor (I think?). Christian invites strangers from the Internet to come have sex with him and Tara which he records on his camera phone. Christian gets jealous of Tara and Ryan. Christian does something bad. Tara leaves Christian. And then there's the final scene of the movie where it seems Tara isn't quite out of the doghouse with Christian but we don't really know and we don't really care.
Along the way we're treated to a montage of abandoned movie theaters and a scene where Tara asks Gina when was the last time she'd seen a movie in a movie theater. I think this was supposed to be like some profound statement about movie-going habits in the 21st century but, like everything else in this dreary mess, it's not clear what the motivation is or why it's even relevant.
I had such high hopes (of a sort) for this movie. I really thought it was going to be an epic train wreck like "Showgirls", a camp classic, that I was going to be able to return to again and again and have a good laugh about over a bottle (or two) of cheap wine. "The Canyons" isn't out-and-out dreadful, it's just...boring. Even the much-hyped four-way sex scene is so claustrophobically shot that it leaves no impression at all, not even a modicum of voyeuristic titillation.
But despite all the tedium, James Deen is really rather good. Christian is a sleaze ball but he's an elegant sleaze ball and I have to admit he really looks rather good. As for his acting, he's no better nor worse than, say, Channing Tatum. In fact, Mr. Deen infuses the atmosphere with an effortless sort of charisma that almost succeeds in elevating the rather lifeless production that surrounds him. If he ever decides to leave porn, I daresay he could do quite well for himself in "independent" cinema.
As for Ms. Lohan, well, she tries.
Bottom line, "The Canyons" could have been a great bad film. Instead it's just a ponderous bad film that isn't sexy or particularly engaging, though I will say it is rather handsomely shot. I think it has (or had) aspirations of profundity, but overall, I felt like I was watching an experiment or a well-photographed student film, which I realize isn't saying very much.
"The Canyons" is probably the most strangely disappointing film I've seen all year. I wasn't sure what to expect. I went into it knowing that it wasn't going to be a good movie, and yet I hoped I might find something in there to redeem it. And how odd is it to say that the best thing about the film was the performance of James Deen, the rather dubiously famous young porn star who's making his mainstream debut here.
Yes, this is a Lindsay Lohan vehicle. Yes, this is a film directed by the once great Paul ("Taxi Driver") Schrader. Yes, it was written by Brett Easton Ellis, perhaps the greatest novelist of Gen-X angst there's ever been. And yes, the film feels very much the product of Mr. Ellis's twisted yet oh so glamorous imagination. It's got a Hollywood setting and beautiful actors but that's about all it has going for it. At the very least I was hoping for some decent camp or some first rate scenery chewing, neither of which is to be had.
There's not even much of a plot. Christian (James Deen) and Tara (Lindsay Lohan) are a couple (I think). They live together in a rather swanky pad in the Hollywood Hills. Christian is a producer(?) and I think Tara is an actress, but it's never made clear. Tara is secretly seeing or at least at some point has hooked up with an aspiring wannabe actor Ryan (Nolan Funk) whose current girlfriend Gina (Amanda Brooks) is a yoga instructor (I think?). Christian invites strangers from the Internet to come have sex with him and Tara which he records on his camera phone. Christian gets jealous of Tara and Ryan. Christian does something bad. Tara leaves Christian. And then there's the final scene of the movie where it seems Tara isn't quite out of the doghouse with Christian but we don't really know and we don't really care.
Along the way we're treated to a montage of abandoned movie theaters and a scene where Tara asks Gina when was the last time she'd seen a movie in a movie theater. I think this was supposed to be like some profound statement about movie-going habits in the 21st century but, like everything else in this dreary mess, it's not clear what the motivation is or why it's even relevant.
I had such high hopes (of a sort) for this movie. I really thought it was going to be an epic train wreck like "Showgirls", a camp classic, that I was going to be able to return to again and again and have a good laugh about over a bottle (or two) of cheap wine. "The Canyons" isn't out-and-out dreadful, it's just...boring. Even the much-hyped four-way sex scene is so claustrophobically shot that it leaves no impression at all, not even a modicum of voyeuristic titillation.
But despite all the tedium, James Deen is really rather good. Christian is a sleaze ball but he's an elegant sleaze ball and I have to admit he really looks rather good. As for his acting, he's no better nor worse than, say, Channing Tatum. In fact, Mr. Deen infuses the atmosphere with an effortless sort of charisma that almost succeeds in elevating the rather lifeless production that surrounds him. If he ever decides to leave porn, I daresay he could do quite well for himself in "independent" cinema.
As for Ms. Lohan, well, she tries.
Bottom line, "The Canyons" could have been a great bad film. Instead it's just a ponderous bad film that isn't sexy or particularly engaging, though I will say it is rather handsomely shot. I think it has (or had) aspirations of profundity, but overall, I felt like I was watching an experiment or a well-photographed student film, which I realize isn't saying very much.
Movie review: The Curious Case of "Blue Jasmine"
Hi everyone!
I went to see the new Woody Allen film "Blue Jasmine" last night. After all of the critical acclaim the film has been receiving I was expecting to really be blown away by it. I've been a Woody Allen fan for years. And while not all of his films have been particularly good, I can usually find something in even the worst Woody Allen film to commend. "Blue Jasmine" proves no exception.
For those of you who follow cinema, you're probably all aware of the basic premise of the plot: Jasmine (played by Cate Blanchett) is the former wife of a Bernie Madoff-type New York financier and businessman played rather effortlessly by Alec Baldwin. His Ponzi scheme is exposed -- in addition to dozens of extramarital affairs -- and Jasmine's privileged way of life falls to ground. She loses everything. In an effort to start picking up the pieces, she moves to San Francisco to live with her downtrodden, very working-class adopted sister, Ginger, played by a tremendously affecting Sally Hawkins (probably best known for her work in British director Mike Leigh's film "Happy Go Lucky" for which she received an Oscar nomination a few years back.) Jasmine is a mess -- swilling vodka and popping pills and pretty much unapologetic for her husband's gross financial misconduct, victims of which were Ginger and her now ex-husband, a surprisingly good Andrew Dice Clay.
Jasmine, as played by Ms. Blanchett, is in many respects an homage to Blanche du Bois. Ginger is Stella and Ginger's new boyfriend, Chili (a terrific Bobby Carnavale) resembles a somewhat more benign Stanley Kowalski. There's also a Gentleman Caller (Peter Sarsgaard) who offers Jasmine the chance of a return to her former lifestyle despite the fact that everything he knows about her is predicated on lies.
Ms. Blanchett is a wonder. You can't take your eyes off of her. And although Jasmine is a monster, Ms. Blanchett infuses her with such bittersweet compassion and tragic desperation you cannot help but sympathize with her. In the role of Jasmine's sister, Ms. Hawkins is spirited and human and sad and all the more tragic for approaching her lot in life with optimism and an almost defiant aplomb. Ms. Hawkins has a couple scenes toward the end of the film that, for me, come close to stealing the show from Ms. Blanchett who is undoubtedly the focus of the film. Come Oscar nomination time, these two amazingly talented actresses should receive huge notice.
And yet....and yet...despite these wonderful performances, the film doesn't really work for me. I'm frustrated because I can't put my finger exactly on what it is that I feel makes the film miss its mark. The flashback sequences portraying the unraveling of Jasmine's elite Park Avenue life ring hollow. Others scenes -- particularly an attempted seduction in a dentist's office that is broadly comic and yet uncomfortably invasive -- seem clumsily staged. And the re-emergence of Andrew Dice Clay's character in the scene that solidifies Jasmine's downward spiral in the last fifteen minutes of film feels contrived and a little too pat.
Ultimately, "Blue Jasmine" is a tragedy. All the classic Woody Allen traits are here -- the neuroses, the pithy one-liners, etc. -- yet nothing is particularly funny. I think this is definitely by design and this is not my criticism of the film. I think my problem is that it's neither here nor there. Is this is a commentary on corrupt Wall Street hubris and greed? Class warfare? I don't know. What I do know is that the performances of Cate Blanchett and Sally Hawkins are extraordinary and the film deserves to be widely recommended for this if for no other reason.
I went to see the new Woody Allen film "Blue Jasmine" last night. After all of the critical acclaim the film has been receiving I was expecting to really be blown away by it. I've been a Woody Allen fan for years. And while not all of his films have been particularly good, I can usually find something in even the worst Woody Allen film to commend. "Blue Jasmine" proves no exception.
For those of you who follow cinema, you're probably all aware of the basic premise of the plot: Jasmine (played by Cate Blanchett) is the former wife of a Bernie Madoff-type New York financier and businessman played rather effortlessly by Alec Baldwin. His Ponzi scheme is exposed -- in addition to dozens of extramarital affairs -- and Jasmine's privileged way of life falls to ground. She loses everything. In an effort to start picking up the pieces, she moves to San Francisco to live with her downtrodden, very working-class adopted sister, Ginger, played by a tremendously affecting Sally Hawkins (probably best known for her work in British director Mike Leigh's film "Happy Go Lucky" for which she received an Oscar nomination a few years back.) Jasmine is a mess -- swilling vodka and popping pills and pretty much unapologetic for her husband's gross financial misconduct, victims of which were Ginger and her now ex-husband, a surprisingly good Andrew Dice Clay.
Jasmine, as played by Ms. Blanchett, is in many respects an homage to Blanche du Bois. Ginger is Stella and Ginger's new boyfriend, Chili (a terrific Bobby Carnavale) resembles a somewhat more benign Stanley Kowalski. There's also a Gentleman Caller (Peter Sarsgaard) who offers Jasmine the chance of a return to her former lifestyle despite the fact that everything he knows about her is predicated on lies.
Ms. Blanchett is a wonder. You can't take your eyes off of her. And although Jasmine is a monster, Ms. Blanchett infuses her with such bittersweet compassion and tragic desperation you cannot help but sympathize with her. In the role of Jasmine's sister, Ms. Hawkins is spirited and human and sad and all the more tragic for approaching her lot in life with optimism and an almost defiant aplomb. Ms. Hawkins has a couple scenes toward the end of the film that, for me, come close to stealing the show from Ms. Blanchett who is undoubtedly the focus of the film. Come Oscar nomination time, these two amazingly talented actresses should receive huge notice.
And yet....and yet...despite these wonderful performances, the film doesn't really work for me. I'm frustrated because I can't put my finger exactly on what it is that I feel makes the film miss its mark. The flashback sequences portraying the unraveling of Jasmine's elite Park Avenue life ring hollow. Others scenes -- particularly an attempted seduction in a dentist's office that is broadly comic and yet uncomfortably invasive -- seem clumsily staged. And the re-emergence of Andrew Dice Clay's character in the scene that solidifies Jasmine's downward spiral in the last fifteen minutes of film feels contrived and a little too pat.
Ultimately, "Blue Jasmine" is a tragedy. All the classic Woody Allen traits are here -- the neuroses, the pithy one-liners, etc. -- yet nothing is particularly funny. I think this is definitely by design and this is not my criticism of the film. I think my problem is that it's neither here nor there. Is this is a commentary on corrupt Wall Street hubris and greed? Class warfare? I don't know. What I do know is that the performances of Cate Blanchett and Sally Hawkins are extraordinary and the film deserves to be widely recommended for this if for no other reason.
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