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WINTER 2004 MOVIE REVIEWS
Dean's rating scale: **** Exceptionally good, ***Quite good indeed, ** I liked some things about it, but found it to be something closer to average,* Not recommended.
I need to point out that I am not really as critical as my reviews sometimes sound. Generally, anything two stars or better is something I have enjoyed, and even those to which I only give one star have some aspects I find redeeming, though obviously less so than others. Anything with less than a star (that is 0 or 1/2) is a nearly absolute thumb’s down. Four stars are given less often and only to those that have most moved me, most effectively depicted believability and/or given me the most food for thought.
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Bus 154 – (In Portuguese with English subtitles) – Foreign
documentaries rarely make it into American theaters, but what starts off as a
run-of-the-mill crime story soon turns into something quite
extraordinary. A hostage taking on a city bus by a young homeless man who
spent his childhood on the streets of
City
of God – (In Portuguese with English subtitles) – Surely worthy of Best Foreign Film, no other I’ve
seen from any country even remotely captures the violence of poverty as well as
this film does. Although often difficult
to watch, brutally violent and depressing, few films achieve such a level of
realism as it focuses with rare depth and breadth on the subject of gang
warfare. Cast entirely with trained amateurs
from Rio’s shantytowns, remarkably filmed with handheld cameras and
expertly edited into layers of complexity rarely seen, this is a film that is
fascinating on many different levels. Although
based on a true story, I am curious as to the extent to which it deviates from
that described by the author/narrator, who epically traces his life and that of
criminals in his shantytown from childhood to young adulthood. As with Bus 154 (above), it seems that the
only Brazilian films that make it to
Cold Mountain – Though this is a genuinely captivating epic
story of longing and endurance through the harsh brutalities of the American
Civil War, one nevertheless cannot help but feel manipulated through a series
of ordeals designed to do little more than be this year’s Miramax Oscar
contender and ego gratifier for Harvey Weinstein, to whom all of
The
Cooler – This one is not worth your time to go see and
not worth my time to write about extensively. Alec Baldwin and Maria Bello have received Golden Globe nominations for their
supporting roles, and William H. Macy is always an interesting guy to
watch. Unfortunately, good acting cannot overcome a largely ridiculous
plot. The script writer must have concluded, perhaps correctly, that
people interested in a movie about Las Vegas gambling are also people more
inclined to believe in Santa Claus than in the laws of probabilities, because
this film often throws probability, or even plausibility, to the wind.
(Kids – definitely not; Young teens – probably not; Everybody else – not worth your time unless you have
an unusual interest in these actors or in gambling) *
Dreamers – In a frail effort to lend credibility and
sophistication to what is basically voyeuristic sexploitation of his
movie-going audience, director Bernardo Bertillucci (Last Tango in Paris, The Last Emperor), with a unusual sense
of guilt in his dialog, attempts to distract with nondescript politics, stick-man
philosophy and a plot shamelessly designed to cater to the professional cinemaphiles who review this film. At one point, he says any director that would
make such a film ought to be thrown in jail, and at one time under some
community standards, he and his audiences could have been. A young American student in
The Fog of War – In a year of exceptional documentaries, among
them Capturing the Friedmans, Winged Migration (previously nominated), Bus 154
and others, this to my mind is the most important of the crop by far. I
wish that all thoughtful people, plus a sizeable percentage of less interested
and less informed folks, would opt in favor of learning some philosophical
lessons instead of merely being entertained. Director Errol Morris
together with his subject, the controversial former U.S. Defense Secretary
Robert McNamara, does very well to provide both. Admire McNamara or hate
him (as his longtime detractors most certainly still do), the 87-year-old
wonder child is undeniably brilliant and captivating, and he has eleven lessons
about war that he claims to have learned during his rather remarkable life -- a
life that among other things involved him in such notable experiences as
firebombing hundreds of thousands of Japanese in World War II, the Cuban
Missile Crisis, and being a principle architect for the conduct of the Vietnam
War. Installing seat belts in automobiles as a Ford Motor Company
executive may have saved more lives over the years as his war casualty counts
cost. The man often accused of arrogance is also very self effacing and
fragilely human. He makes a case for his actions and decisions, but is
also filled with mea culpas, mostly implicit but also
explicit. “We were wrong”, he says regarding the rationale
for fighting the Vietnam War, notably the domino theory and the desire to
prevent the spread of Communism as propagated by the Soviets and China.
That’s small consolation indeed for the families of those who died
there. Using the distance between his thumb and forefinger he says,
“We came this close” – four times -- to blowing ourselves up
during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and ending our civilization. The man,
aside from being a good story teller of his life experiences, is refreshingly
candid about his misjudgments as well as about his decisions of dubious merit
and morality. He all but admits to fitting the definition of a war
criminal for his participation in the firebombing of
Girl with a Pearl Earring – In its exquisite artfulness, this delicate film bears resemblance to the masterpiece Johannes Vermeer painted of a young girl three centuries ago, a portrait that captivated my imagination when I saw it at the National Gallery of Art in Washington (on tour a few years ago from its home in The Hague). Few films I’ve seen pay such attention to the most minute of details – the color and structure of the rind from a sliced fruit, the sound of grinding powder in a crucible, the reflection in a pearl earring, the light through a window on the gentle facial features of a young woman. The face of Scarlet Johannson alone, with her nearly perfect match to the doe-eyed, bulbous-lipped girl in the portrait, is worth the price of admission. The 18-year-old Johannson comes fresh from her attention-getting role in Lost in Translation, and although she barely speaks in either film, she is justly worthy of her simultaneous Best Actress nominations, though I suspect she is likely to yield this year to Charlize Theron in Monster. Colin Firth plays a strapping Vermeer, but unfortunately, a thin fictional plot does defaming injustice to the master artist. These days, it seems that the lives of people long dead (or even those still alive but somehow publicly demonized) are entirely ripe for expropriating with little fear of defamation lawsuits. However, Vermeer, is not what this film is about, nor is the plot itself. The enigmatic young woman captivates us, and the bigger reason to go is that the angel is in the artful details. (Okay for all ages – but a little slow and insubstantial for some) **1/2
In
Monster – Transformational roles certainly have a way of making
us sit up and take notice. In the case of actress Charlize
Theron’s performance in this powerfully
disturbing film, based upon a true story, I can only exclaim, “And
how!” Transformation, of course, can have many meanings, and for
the South African actress it has at least two meanings these days.
Firstly, there’s the obvious transformation required by the role as
notorious serial killer Aileen Wurnos of adding both
substantial swagger and substantial girth to the actress’s previously
known prissy and petite personality and frame. Then, there’s
another kind of transformation that has inadvertently come with the role, one
that has undoubtedly made Theron’s phone ring
off the hook, taken her from third to first tier movie actress, and sent her
stock with Hollywood execs skyrocketing like an internet IPO. Anyone who
has seen the impossibly attractive actress in her unremarkable roles in
previous films – e.g. Cider
House Rules, Sweet
November, etc. – and then seen her interviewed after the making
of Monster in the context of seeing clips from her performance in the
film would have to think, “What kind of diet drugs have they put this
woman on?” It’s one thing to
be covered in layers of makeup and costume and quite another to be covered in
additional layers of one’s own flesh. Lots of actors have done this
sort of thing. Robert DeNiro started the trend
with the substantial extra pounds he put on for his celebrated role in Raging
Bull. Tom Hanks put on pounds and then lost them in Castaway. Renee Zellwegger was up for Bridget Jones Diary, down for Chicago. But for Theron,
who in order to portray Wurnos put on 30 pounds for
this film (and with equal speed and greater amazement took it off upon
completion) was greased down and covered in some kind of freckle-like make-up,
the transformation was not merely a physical one, because at times she seems to
channel something hauntingly deep within her spirit. Debut director Patty
Jenkins helped pull such performances out of the entire cast, notably including
Christina Ricci, who plays Wurnos’s young
lesbian lover. The director imbues sympathetic qualities in Wurnos and the cast of almost exclusively unseemly and
reprehensible characters -- hardly a likeable one in the bunch – and yet
the audience’s sympathy is carefully guided to wax and wane. As one
might expect from such dismal subject matter, this is not a film in which to
lighten up, relax and feel good about humanity, though it is good storytelling
and an impressive, deftly handled first outing for a director. And if Charlize Theron fails to get duly
recognized and awarded, it would be criminal. (Adult topics and brutal
scenes of rape and other graphic violence make this not recommended for
children and perhaps young teens and others who might feel squeamish) ***
Something’s Gotta Give – Funny, touching, thoughtful, romantic –
this film is much more of a charmer than I had imagined. With boomers now moving into their golden years,
it’s likely we can expect to see more romantic comedies for us geezers,
but this one has broad appeal. With
smart dialog that far outshines recent others of its ilk, including the current
nominee for Best Picture Lost in
Translation, it’s a little surprising to me that this film
hasn’t gotten more recognition beyond Diane Keaton’s
and Jack Nicolson’s nominations. Nancy Meyer’s script is thoroughly
brilliant, with rare missteps. Keaton is fabulous, and it’s unfortunate that the
Oscars still require the comparison of apples with oranges – comedic
performances with dramatic ones – because otherwise she would likely be
recognized along with Charlize Theron,
as they were for the Golden Globes. Nicolson’s character-acting more than makes up for
his lack of leading man plausibility in this context, though he always seems to
be playing some variation of his womanizing self, or as he says in the film,
“some variation of the truth” – just this time he gets to be
more sensitive and charming than usual.
I’m still baffled by women’s willingness to accept as
believable, both in film and in real life, relatively ugly old guys cast as
romantic foils for women young enough to be their granddaughters. Bill Murray and Scarlett
Johansson in Lost in Translation also
fit this mold. Both films were written,
cast and directed by women. Okay, there
are attractive younger guys, in this case Keanau
Reeves, but somehow they don’t match up.
Is this reality, or now that I’m approaching my AARP years, are
they just trying to feed my false hopes?
(Kids – perhaps not due to brief nudity and adult subject matter;
Teens – probably okay) ***1/2
The Station Agent – Viewing this cornucopia of quirky characters, one gets the feeling of a carnival side show painted by Toulouse Le Trec. Unfortunately, though someone of my ilk might find it more than sufficiently entertaining, its snail’s pace and insubstantial subject matter is likely to underwhelm most audiences, even though the artsy types at Sundance and other eclectic film festivals give it their okie dokie. The film focuses upon a half-baked aquaintenceship, not entirely welcome, between a shy and withdrawn train-buff (who happens to be of unusually short physical stature), an overly exuberant hot dog salesman, and a middle age ditzy woman distracted by the dissolution of her marriage. The strength of the film is its humanity. Even though the characters are often inexplicably mean to each other, they seem drawn to each other at the moments when it matters most. Though the associations are sometimes unbelievable, the characters themselves are thoroughly believable and remind us of caricatures of ourselves or of others we have known. The train buff refers to himself as a dwarf, is by his own description thoroughly dull, and is the antithesis of the stereotypical Hollywood image of midgets, who by and large until now have always been seen running around crazily jumping out of small boxes, driving toy cars, etc. The hot dog salesman is his opposite in most respects, thoroughly self-confident, sort of a macho everyman, enthusiastic about life and outgoing to the point of being overbearing, though he is kind spirited. The ditzy woman, portrayed by Patricia Clarkson (see also the recent Pieces of April), struggles with depression and oscillates between functionality and dysfunctionality. Other local characters – both odd and predictable -- fill out the story, which seems to be about little more than normal life with a few quirks thrown in (which is normal, isn’t it?). (Kids, teens and adults – appropriate for all but the very young, but is quite slowly paced and dull for some) **
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