Watched 4 films last night, wrote 4 reviews I'm sure nobody will read. Oh well.
Sisters [1973; Brian De Palma; 93 min; US]
6.5/10Bernard Hermann scores this eerie, psychological thriller about a model named Danielle (Margot Kidder) who takes a man back to her apartment but wakes up to find that he’s been murdered and this murder happens to have been witnessed by a neighbor across the street named Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt) who happens to be a journalist and tries to get the police involved. The film is directed by Alfred Hitchcock… err, I mean Brian De Palma… err, I mean, Alfrian De Palmcock. Sisters was one of De Palma’s first films and can’t be called much more or less than a loving and technically proficient ode to the master of suspense himself. De Palma has almost completely appropriated Hitchcock’s narrative and thematic sensibilities with the film even if it ultimately just comes up as Hitchcock-lite. De Palma certainly doesn’t nail Hitch’s pristine sense of pacing and nail-biting suspense, nor does he really approach the psychological depth of Hitch’s best films. Saying De Palma also doesn’t approach Hitch’s cinematic technical excellence would also be true but a bit unfair since really no director touches Hitch in that category.
De Palma does have two interesting innovations in the film. One is in the interesting premise of the psychological ramifications of separating Siamese twins. But even here, De Palma doesn’t go as far down the rabbit hole as Hitch did in Psycho or Vertigo. The other is a visual innovation in the use of split-screen to follow multiple lines of action. This may be one of his few strokes of real originality and, surprisingly, it really shows off a new and interesting possibility of what could be done with the device. In the scene in which Danielle’s (supposed) ex-husband comes to help her clean up the apartment after the murder, the split screen also follows Grace meeting with the detectives and trying to get them to investigate the apartment for the murder. It also then shows the approaching detectives and the attempted escape by Danielle’s ex-husband from the apartment and how they manage to nearly cross paths. It’s a fascinating device the likes of which I’ve never seen used in such a way before.
The acting on all sides that has hint of artificiality that was also often present in Hitch. Characters seem to be less humans and more like pieces that are shuffled around by an unseen hand in some kind of puppet or shadow play. Hermann’s music – certainly chosen because of his important collaboration with Hitch – varies between truly suspenseful and dramatic and just plain laughable and theatric. In fact, much of the same can be said for the entire film. From Rear Window De Palma takes the metafiction theme of voyeurism; of people watching people in the film mirrored by the audience as people watching people watching people. This film even opens with a TV show about Peeping Toms so we have an added metafictional layer of people watching people watching people watching people. De Palma has also taken a major cue from Psycho in his decision to switch protagonists halfway through the film; The biggest problem is that devices like this come off as much less effective after one has already seen it in Psycho. In fact, the problem with copying Hitch in general is that he made so many of those Hitchcockian moments so unique and iconic that when copied they can never really be fresh again. That’s not to say that the film is without any thrills or entertainment. In fact, it more or less remains intriguing right up until the end. The first murder is handled quite well; providing quite a shock, though the dream sequence later on that explains the mysteries is significantly less effective.
Sisters is an uneven film, but is undeniably a loving ode to the master of suspense. Most of De Palma’s devices and risks pay off even when they are clearly Hitch rip-offs and given that the narrative and characters remain interesting throughout it’s certainly worth a look.
6.5/10A followup to the 1996 documentary about the conviction of three boys in West Memphis, Arkasas for the brutal murder of three children, Paradise Lost 2 should probably have been subtitled “Frustrations” rather than “Revalations”. There are precious few revelations in a film that seems to bring up more questions than it answers and at its worst seems to be approaching desperation. The approach in the first film was much more even-handed as it documented the trial in a detached manner without imposing too much of a perspective on this case. This made it all the more powerful because even through the fairly unbiased presentation it became apparent that there was scarcely any evidence to convict the boys. But four years later all three remain in prison.
Damien has filed a suit against the prison for allowing him to be raped repeatedly. Support groups have sprung up all around the country and come together to try and free the boys. More and more new information on the case, mostly taken from the crime scene pictures, has come in and experts have been called to give their opinion on the case and nearly every piece of evidence seems to point away from the boys. The biggest new piece was a supposed bite mark found on one of the boys that wasn’t reported by the corner. This would be significant since bite marks are as good as a fingerprint. The marks are compared with that of the boys and they don’t match, seemingly vindicating them from the crime. But things aren’t quite so clear because the original coroners and other state dental experts disagree over whether or not it IS a bite. So the appeal is denied, and the boys remain in jail. It’s probably this that has pushed the film-makers to the point of desperation, and this film plays more like advocacy and less like an even-handed documentary as the first did.
This film is more or less split up into separate parts; apart from the new information being revealed or conjectured about the crime, we also have plenty of screen time spent with the families of the convicted, the support groups, and the boys themselves. But of the remaining victims’ families only one person agreed to be on camera again and that’s the stepfather of the murdered Chris Byers named John Mark Byers. To say the film is obsessed with him seems an understatement and it’s not difficult to understand why. Byers is a loon. A clear case of some undiagnosed mental disorder that manifests as clear as can be in this film. This was the same guy in the first film who shot handguns at pumpkins pretending they were the three boys on trial. In this film he digs metaphoric graves for the boys at the crimescene and lights a fire. But that’s relatively normal compared to his theatrical antics that he plays for the camera constantly. If someone had written his lines and he was acting him he would’ve been given a Razzie for worst performance; that’s what a phony and bad actor the guy is. But the whole thing is almost too bizarre for words. But one gets the sense that by focusing so much on the psychosis of Byers the film is undeniably trying to refocus the attention on him as the potential murderer. But the facts seem to reveal just as little to connect him with the murders than the original prosecutors had on the boys. He seems to have always cooperated fully with the investigators, giving them dental records and even taking a polygraph test (which he passes) just on the provocation of the support groups and those making the film.
While the first film was superb documentary film-making on any level, the second seems less accomplished as a film but still potent as advocacy. The boys who are convicted didn’t deserve to be. And even if one can accuse the film-makers of engaging in more than a bit of sensationalism and finger-pointing themselves here with their focus on Byers, the facts still remain that there was nothing to link the boys to the murders and they should be freed before it’s too late.
7.0/10I’ve been saying for years that Clooney is the modern day Cary Grant. He has an ease and effortlessness with his performance combined with a natural magnetism that makes him a great performer and personality even if he isn’t the best of actors. He almost always tends to carry the films he’s in, and in Up in the Air he is, again, the primary focal point. The film concerns a man named Ryan whose profession involves him travelling across the country and firing people for companies whose bosses are too chicken to do it themselves. In doing so he’s logged closed to ten million miles in the air, which happens to be his goal. On one trip he meets another frequent flyer named Alex (Vera Farmiga) and two immediately hit it off. After sleeping together they start checking their dates to see where else they can meet up. But things change when a young wunderkind fresh out of college named Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick) shows up with a plan to ground the company’s flyers and begin firing people over visual, internet conference. Before the company will implement it, Ryan is told to take Natalie around to his next stops to show and teach her the realities of the profession. Ryan also happens to work as a motivational speaker who advocates cutting all ties to possessions, family, and anything else that weighs you down; espousing the philosophy that to stop moving is to die.
While one would never accuse the film of being profound, it is thoroughly enjoyable. Clooney is always fun to watch and both Farmiga and Kendrick are worthy interests to keep up with him. The film’s biggest problem is that when Kendrick leaves later on the film never really recovers. The final third or so of the film is focused on Ryan’s relationship with his sisters; one of whom is getting married. He slowly begins to realize that his way of life has resulted in him being a very lonely man; one that didn’t realize his loneliness until he found himself falling in love with Alex. Given Clooney’s character the philosophical change seems more than a bit arbitrary and, at worst, a violation of the very characterization of Ryan. But perhaps my problem is deeper with it as I generally have a problem with films ultimately and blatantly damning alternative methods and choices of living. The film ends up saying that real happiness lies in the American ideals of marriage and a family because loneliness is a worse living death than is getting married. To the film’s credit it does (at least for a while) seem to promote Clooney’s alternative philosophy. The problem is that it’s almost predictable how much it ends up working its way back to traditional ideals.
But perhaps I can be accused of thinking about the film too deeply. Perhaps I should just go back to what I originally said about the film ultimately being good, entertaining fun with good leads in a tightly woven story and screenplay. This isn’t the kind of film I would ever say is worthy of Best Picture or even a nominee, but it’s fine for what it is. The most successful scenes happens to be those in which Clooney, Farmiga, and Kendrick are all together, it’s just a shame they couldn’t have lasted longer.
8.5/10The biggest surprise of the night, Precious is a genuinely excellent and poignant film about a poor, obese, and illiterate black girl named Claireece, “Precious” Jones living in the slums with her abusive mother named Mary and pedophile father. At school she tries to escape; sitting in the back of the class and daydreaming about her math teacher. When she gets pregnant for the second time by her father she’s approached about changing to an alternative school called “Each One Teach One” where she meets a wonderful and warm-hearted teacher named Blu Rain and a class full of colorful but caring girls like herself. At the same time she begins meeting with a social worker named Miss Weiss.
Really, the first thing that jumps out at one about the film is the uniformly excellent performances. Both Gabourey Sidibe and Mo’Nique deservedly received Oscar nominations for their roles (Mo’Nique getting an equally well-deserved win) and performances. Sidibe, however, is the driving force that pulls us into the film and, most importantly, into her world of abuse, isolation, and daydreams. It’s the kind of beautiful and poignant performance that seems to transcend acting to become almost painfully real. Mo’Nique, if somewhat less natural, is no less powerful. The truth is that her performance more closely straddles the line between melodramatic and theatrical while still remaining genuine enough to not call attention to itself. But the film is truly enriched by all its supporting roles including an excellent and relatively unknown Paula Patton as Miss Rain, the alternative school teacher. The biggest surprise ends up being Mariah Carey who dresses down to play the social worker. For those who labeled her a horrid actress after her Glitter flop will no doubt be forced to re-evaluate after watching her here. Even Lenny Kravitz as a male nurse who attends Precious at her birth turns in a fine and charming performance.
One thing that really surprised me about the film is the excellence of the cinematography by the unknown names of Andrew Dunn and Darren Lew. It’s the kind of film where the technical aspects are almost always overlooked, but I was shocked by the amount of really outstanding shots the pair produce. One can feel the grunginess of the apartment where Precious and her mother lives, which contrasts superbly with the super slick and stylized presentation of Precious’ daydreams, as well as with the warm inviting tone of the Miss Rain’s classroom. One particularly nice touch is the often blown-out highlights which diffuses the light, giving the film an appropriately tender and slightly romantic film without it lessening the impact of the narrative. But there are other moments such as composing people in frames within the frame and using natural split-screens to follow multiple lines of action. The use of close-ups and long lenses are judiciously used; always to great effect thanks to the powerful performance of Sidibe.
But this doesn’t mean that everything in the film works equally well. Part of me feels the film is too bloated with fat that could’ve been cut to make a more concise and potent effort. I never feel the voice-over quite works as well as it should. The construction can occasionally be sloppy with how it integrates its separate parts that are always more discrete than the should; the home scenes, the daydreams, the school scenes, the hospital scenes, and the flashbacks never really integrate seamlessly, always seeming a bit disconnected. But really, this is a minor complaint that can be summed up by the film could’ve used a more focused screenplay and a bit more judicious editing. But this is all belying the power of the film that is carried by a mix of the genuinely rendered characters and perfect performances. Sadly, knowing even the little that I know about social services, Precious really can’t be said to be a gross fictionalization and is probably more common than most would think. While I’ve heard criticisms of the film being melodramatic and, at worse, an example of “misery porn”, I think these only apply if the characters don’t pull us in, and given the excellence of the performances I find it impossible to say they don’t; at least for me.
[omnislash]
Bomby von Bombsville wrote:No Regrets For Our Youth (Akira Kurosawa)
Not really Kurosawa's best moment.
Not his best moment but I thought it was still quite good; probably the best of his early films before Drunken Angel and Stray Dog really started showing off what he could do as a director and his 50s films catapulted him into the cinematic stratosphere.
Bomby von Bombsville wrote:how he's come to eclipse Ozu and Mizoguchi in the past couple decades is beyond me (and most Japanese film critics, too).
I don't get what you're saying with your parenthetical part. That said, it probably helps that Kurosawa appeals much more to Western audiences. His cinematic model was largely John Ford and given both Europe and, even now, the east's general fascination with American cinema it's not hard to see why Kurosawa became one of the biggest and most successful foreign film directors/names ever, period; much less the most famous out of Japan. You know I love Mizoguchi and Ozu but both are much more confined in their focus and appeal. Kurosawa made big films, big emotions, big themes. Big, big, big. In many ways he eclipsed Ozu and Mizoguchi by the sheer size and force of his artistic scope. I'm not saying it's justified, I'm just trying to say why it's so.
Bomby von Bombsville wrote:The funny thing about Kurosawa v. Mizoguchi is that film critics tend to lean toward Kurosawa, film scholars tend to lead toward Mizoguchi.
For me, the virtues of both lie in completely different places. For Kurosawa it's almost always the rhythmic propulsion of the editing combined with electric angles and frames, his razor sharp and incisive narrative, character, and thematic focus and grand vision that makes his film so outstanding. Mizoguchi is much more subtler. The complexity of his mise-en-scene, the gracefulness of his moving camera, the more nuanced observation of Japanese society, the sensuousness of his imagery and the more intuitive, elliptical nature with which his narratives unfold...
I think Mizoguchi provides more meat for film scholars because his devices are both more subtle and complex than Kurosawa's; especially because Kurosawa has such strong roots in film tradition and the likes of John Ford so for scholars it can be a bit of a "been there, done that" feeling. Really, Kurosawa's claim to fame is taking almost distinctly westernized stories and executing them in a technically proficient and evocatively Eastern mode/form; like how Seven Samurai was little more than an American Western but with samurais instead of cowboys. Mizoguchi is, as you said, much more idiosyncratic in that sense. But does originality really equate to some inherently greater value or quality? I don't think so necessarily. The fact is it's just as hard to play on well-established standards and execute them well, and Kurosawa executed them as well as anyone and better than just about everyone.
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Oz wrote:@Jimbo: I've found so many things to love in Japanese cinema so it seems I won't be bored for quite some time.
Well, that's what I mean. I'm the type who naturally gets bored with anything after a while if it's even remotely similar (NGE being the rare exception) so with film I pretty much see whatever I'm in the mood for and make sure to constantly switch it up just so I won't get bored. Though, truth be told, you really shouldn't overlook American cinema because pretty much ever single country has been incredibly influenced by American films so it's almost inescapable. I mean, America kinda got started late in literature and music so we can't claim to boast having many to match the true greats in those areas, but when it comes to film I still believe we're the undisputed masters.
Oz wrote:Here are the reviews I promised: Ozu's
Late Spring & Tati's
Mr. Hulot's Holiday. Then there's also a surprise in store for you guys: I rewatched The Seventh Seal and I'll write a review of it later today/tomorrow.
As far as Late Spring goes, here's the review I wrote years ago for it:
There might not be a director that personifies "profundity through simplicity" like Ozu. Unlike Kurosawa and Mizoguchi, Ozu relied on the deepest humanities of his strong characterizations to create a dynamic and moving rendering of his simplest of narratives. In all honesty, I've not seen anything or anyone in film like Ozu. With that, I get to Late Spring. If there was ever a simpler narrative premise I don't know of one. A daughter - Noriko, played perfectly by Ozu mainstay Setsuko Hara - stays at home to help her aging father - Shukichi, played perfectly by Ozu mainstay Chishu Ryu. The father soon realizes it's time for his daughter to marry. The daughter's ambivalent feelings towards marriage are inclined towards not doing so out of love and dedication to her father. So the father crafts a small white lie of his impending re-marriage to gently nudge the daughter out of the nest.
No description of the narrative however could give any insight into the immense and poignant power of this film. The gentle interplay between Noriko and Shukichi is largely what makes this film so great. Through this, we get to know these characters so intimately we feel as if we know them not as fictional characters, but as very real ones. It's not just the fact that they are so likable, it's the fact that they're so human. Ozu's depictions of everyday people in everyday life confronting life's small but meaningful moments is what drives it all. Late Spring simply allows us a look into the lives of two people we feel we know from the beginning. By the end, their emotions effect us as much as them. The final scene of Ryu peeling a fruit (and I'll leave it there so as not to spoil it) carries infinitely more weight and emotion than it should. But this scene perfectly illustrates Ozu's ability to take the simple and make it profound.
The moving scenes are not just saved for the closing however. The extended Noh play serves as the film's centerpiece, and the turning point for its main characters. For 7 minutes we're allowed to view something that is likely completely alien to all of America, if not Western Civilization. But the words in the play actually reflect many of the underlying themes of the film. And a simple look and smile on Shukichi's part to his potential wife, and the noticing of this by Noriko, serves as the catalyst for the rest of the film. The scene immediately afterwards of Noriko and Shukichi walking side by side, only to have Noriko separate to go her own way, is perhaps my favorite scene in the film for what it represents.
Much has been said of Ozu's style in technical terms - low angle shots, sparse camera movement. But I'd like to comment on the emotional effect this style has. I would describe Ozu's style as one that's as minimally intrusive and obtrusive as possible. This essentially creates a window in the lives of very real people. One can almost gets the impression that they're not watching a brilliant film, but a real life documentary into the lives of its characters. What we end up with is a snapshot of a time and place, and most importantly of people whose lives end up mattering to us. It's startling how many subtleties this film reveals with repeat viewings. The reason for this is because of the underlying themes that Ozu expresses throughout the film. They are told in such intricate, subtle ways, that the complex depths of those ideas are revealed only with repeat viewings.
I honestly don't know if I can heap enough acclaim onto this film. Although not for everyone and every taste, this is a film unlike any other you're likely to ever see. The phrase "They sure don't make them like this anymore" springs to mind. Also, no review of this size could bring into light everything that makes this film so rich. Ozu's style combines with emotional characterization and an elaborate world in which they exist with underlying themes that are delicate, but extremely subtle and important. This creates a work that is so multi-layered, one can only choose a few layers while leaving out many others.
It's astounding to think that in this day of Plasma screens and 1080p and 5.1 surround sound and all the effects that CGI and computers can generate, a film as simple and quiet as this can be as effectively affecting as it is. Indeed, Late Spring as well as Ozu's other masterworks are more real in their fiction than all of reality television put together, and more deeply rich and rewarding than most anything you're likely to ever see.
As far as Mr. Hulot's Holiday, Tati's sense of aesthetics and humor really do appeal to me. I think there's a gentleness and sensitivity in his observation of people, society, interactions that's quite subtle beneath the superficial slapstick. It's much more obvious in a film like Mon Oncle, but for pure comedic value it's hard to beat Mr. Hulot. The daring to mimic the silent masters like Chaplin and Keaton (and Tati probably resembles Keaton more than Chaplin) is enough to make me love him, but he's so damn good at it just from a directing perspective. [/omnislash]
How did you get to see The Hole, by the way? I would probably give an arm and a leg to see the film.
I always look forward to your reviews as well. Late Spring is certainly a favorite and I quite loved Mr. Hulot's Holiday as well.
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