Review #10 – Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen's latest, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, screened to popular acclaim at Cinema CNC on Saturday; this is much too big a film for our series, but the local megaplex would never screen it, so there we were!

Before getting to the movie, I feel compelled to discuss the director, because Woody Allen inspires all kinds of comment. While talking up the movie during the week, I had more than one person say something like "a Woody Allen movie? Why? Yuck...." [eyes rolling]... I am somewhat mystified by this response... while much has been made of aspects of his personal life, his choices and all, and some of his movies haven't quite measured up now and then, why do people feel such a strong aversion to him? Woody Allen first awed me when I saw a screening of Manhattan at Cinecenta, the University of Victoria's cinema. Manhattan is spectacular... a clever melange of story, technique, and character, mixed to create a love-document to that great municipality. I have since seen pretty much all of the 40ish films he's made. I had a crush on Barbara Hershey after watching Hannah and Her Sisters, I almost wet myself watching Sleeper, I was fascinated by the technique of Zelig, not to mention the numerous other big and beautiful films he has made. And as for his personal life, most of the prejudice is predicated on his relationship with Soon-Yi Previn, his ex-wife's [Mia Farrow's] adopted daughter... I don't know exactly what went on there, but they have been together for 15 years, ten of them as husband and wife, which is a long time by show-biz standards. All this being said, I hope that when I am 72 years old, I don't opt for a comfortable retirement, but rather make a film as fine as Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

The film opens with an introduction of our three main characters: Vicky [Rebecca Hall] and Cristina [Scarlet Johansson] and Barcelona [Barcelona]. The two women are riding in a taxi and are shown on split screen, with a voice-over [provided by Christopher Evan Welch] explaining why they are there and what their life-views, especially to do with love, consist of. Vicky wants stability and security and appears to have found this... she is engaged to Doug [Chris Messina], a wealthy and seemingly nice young man. Cristina doesn't know what she wants, but does know what she doesn't want... which is Vicky's dream. Cristina has recently made a short film about LOVE, but is unsatisfied and wants to forget it. The third character, Barcelona, provides the romantic context for the challenges of these contrasting world-views. Allen treats the city with some of the same affection he gives New York in Manhattan... however, it is not affection born of years of familiarity and regard as in the earlier film, but rather the thrill of infatuation... the freshness of a new love.

Woody Allen films, even when thin on other elements, always have fascinating characters, often testaments to the actors creating them. He seems to have a knack for bringing out fine performances in his players. Javier Bardem, as Juan Antonio, shows his chops, especially when one contrasts this with his depiction of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. His haircut is better here, as is his personality... while this film, on description, might come across as some kind of male fantasy piece, with Juan Antonio juggling women [not just Vicky and Christina, but Maria Elena, too... more on her in a sec.], but it becomes much more, largely through the sympathetic depiction created by Bardem. His character, while undeniably benefitting from these women's affections, serves as a passive base on which the female characters act. He is seemingly without guile, but full of passion... he opens contact with Vicky and Cristina by offering to take them on a nice holiday to a remote location where they can see the sights and eat the food and make love, eliciting both shocked and intrigued responses from V and C. He seems genuinely surprised, precisely because he isn't trying any tricks... he is being straightforward.

Maria Elena is Juan Antonio's ex-wife, and, by all accounts, they have had a tempestuous relationship... she is played with great energy by Penélope Cruz as the human embodiment of a tempest... even when she is sitting still and smiling, one still has the impression that tumult in not too far below the surface. Her character does not appear until almost half-way through the movie, but it is hard to forget her impact. Cruz's depiction shows both her talent for character and Woody Allen's talent for eliciting performances from actors.

As in previous films, Allen is quick to pay homage to things he likes in other artists... film and otherwise. We see references to Almodóvar, especially in the outdoor scenes with Spanish guitar... no surprise since his cinematographer is Javier Aguirresarobe, Pedro Almodóvar's cinematographer for Talk to Her. Javier Bardem's dialogue is often pure Ingemar Bergman; when he talks about the reasons for his forwardness, one is reminded of Jøns' line "But feel, to the very end, the triumph of being alive!" from The Seventh Seal, a much darker take on this same discussion about what it means to truly live. The picnic scene in this film reminds me of a scene in a Marilyn Monroe film, with Scarlett Johanssen's wardrobe providing the trigger [I can't remember which film, but the shorts and gingham are definitely reminiscent]. The film Vicky and her friend go to is Shadow of a Doubt, an Alfred Hitchcock film from 1943.

Music plays a prominent role here, as it does in other Allen films, with "Barcelona", by Giulia y los Tellarini, "Entre Dos Aguas", by Paco de Lucía, "Granada", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Emilio de Benito], and "Asturias", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Juan Quesada] featured prominently, providing mood and emotional context. Spanish guitar becomes an internal symbol for the conflict between romantic and pragmatic views of the world.

I don't want to describe too much of the action of this movie, because to do so would be to spoil the delight of discovery; I do, however, want to extoll its virtues and suggest to you that you'd like to see it. Let me know what you think.

Review #9 – The Cup

Somehow I managed not to see this film until now; I've owned a copy for a while [procurred from the same cheap bin as The Spanish Prisoner!... see below], but have left it on my shelf. The Cup [Phorpa], as you might already know, is the first film from Bhutan... although it is set in India, with predominantly Tibetan characters, and with funding from Australia.

I showed the second film made in Bhutan at Cinema CNC about 4 years ago: Travellers and Magicians... it was very popular with our audience, for many of the same reasons that The Cup works... it doesn't try too hard, it shows a good story, and it involves the audience. The Cup's [and Travellers and Magicians', for that matter!] director, Khyentse Norbu, is a Buddhist monk, so has an insider's vision... he also has some screen cred, having worked as a consultant on Bernardo Bertolucci's Little Buddha. He filmed in 16mm and then blew it up to 35mm, because of budgetary constraints. Many of the players are real-life monks or trainee monks, giving the film a priceless realistic look that one defies any Hollywood budget to replicate. The film stock, the players, and the gorgeously beautiful setting lend a sense of documentary to The Cup, and this is precisely the element that makes this, and films like it, particularly appealing. We watch films from distant places precisely because we want to be taken there, at least vicariously, for an hour-and-a-half.

The Cup reveals both the sacred and the quotidian of these men's lives, all overshadowed by the context of the Tibetans' exile in India. This monumental issue is not ignored; it is merely treated as just another part of the reality of the monks' existence. Two young men are expected at the monastery, having been smuggled out of Tibet, through Nepal to India; the Abbot worries that they will not make it. Meanwhile, two of the current crop of apprentices are revealed to be soccer-mad [the Cup of The Cup is the World Cup, particularly the 1998 version]. Much effort is expended to see the various games. One character, Orgyen [Jamyang Lodro] is obsessed; he wears a homemade Ronaldo [the Brazillian great] jersey under his monk's robes. It becomes necessary, to Orgyen and others, that they get the services of a satelite dish and television for the final, between Brazil and France. Orgyen is cheering for France [a surprise, considering his outfit], because "France has supported the cause of Tibet." Getting a dish is doubly-complicated, because they need money and they need permission, neither of which seems to be forthcoming.

This quest pushes the narrative forward, but much of the movie deals with the day-to-day lives of the characters: we see them at prayers, at meals, at work, at play. While one might have unrealistically romantic notions of the divinity of these individuals from a distance, they are delightfully human up close, falling asleep while chanting, passing notes back and forth, playing tricks, and really, really liking soccer. The integration of the new boys with the old tells a lot about this community; there are tests and pitfalls, but there is a refreshing lack of testosterone-laden challenges here. It is altogether pleasant to watch 93 minutes of almost exclusively male action that doesn't include punching anyone in the face. The younger monks biggest fear is the Abbot's enforcer, Geko, [Orgyen Tobgyal], who turns out to be a bit of a marshmallow underneath his stern countenance.

While this movie is a little slow [the director said at Sundance that it was okay if people fell asleep], The Cup is a compelling narrative slice-of-life, a life that is completely unfamiliar, but worthy of examination.

Review #8 – Oldboy

Woo-wee!... I just turned off the DVD player, closing down the amusement park ride that is Oldboy, Chan-wook Park's profoundly disturbing and violent film. And like being shaken-up by an amusement ride, one is both relieved and disappointed when the end comes... let's take this baby up again! or perhaps not.

I stood next to Chan-wook Park at a reception given by the Japanese embassy at the Venice Film Festival; he was there showing [and being rewarded for] Lady Vengeance [Chinjeolhan geumjassi], the third in the trilogy of vengeance films of which Oldboy is the second – the first is Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance [Boksuneun naui geot]. The reception included some very lovely snacks and beverages and many, many speeches in both Japanese and Italian, neither language familiar to either of us [so it seemed]... and it is apparently impolite to eat or drink while the speeches are taking place, so the crowd stood attentively listening, some comprehending, some not so much. We made sympathetic eyebrow gestures at one another, and I looked forward to trying to chat with him, but he was whisked away after about 45 minutes. After about an hour, I took a discreet sip from my glass of wine... I am pretty sure that I got away with it, but I haven't been invited back. I am not sure why I am telling this story, except to suggest that there is a normal human consciousness behind the mayhem that we are confronted with in Oldboy... if I were just trying to puff up my own importance by talking about this event, I would have pointed out that Hayao Miyazaki was at the reception, too, but that would be just dropping names, so I won't.

Oldboy opens with Dae-su Oh on a bench in a police station; it is a rainy night, and he is drunk and beligerent. After his friend, No Joo-hwan, bails him out, he goes outside, phones home from a phone booth, and disappears. We next see him in what looks like a slightly-scruffy motel room, which turns out to be a prison where he is kept for 15 years. When he is let out, the audience has as little insight into the nature of his imprisonment as he does. Without giving too much away, it turns out that he had 5 days to find out who has done this to him and why.

Dae-su Oh has spent his 15 years getting into phenomenal shape, learning stuff from television, and developing an almost-insatiable thirst for vengeance [we could see that coming, couldn't we?]. He is pleasing as a character, because we see his development from a buffoon into a sharply-defined and cunning agent of violent retribution.

This narrative transcends the dully clichéd genre of "one man's revenge" [look to pulp westerns, spy dramas, and many Hollywood star vehicles for examples] because the person responsible for his captivity is a worthy adversary, cunning too, and one step ahead to boot.

This film is extremely violent, with many creative uses of force and common household tools, but the plot dictates the violence, not the other way around... there is nothing unnecessary, and there is nothing particularly easy to watch, or listen to. I have seen all three of the films in this triumverate of retribution and must say that Chan-wook Park is a master of squirm; just when one must look away, the sound of the event predominates... in fact, the camera seems to shy away from the most extreme moments, leaving us with a soundscape that personalizes the violence... if you have to imagine it, then you are complicit in the manufacture of the brutality.

That there is a love story in this film helps viewers to sympathize with Dae-su Oh, even while he is expressing his fury. While the relationship might seem unlikely, we aren't given any reason to question it, and it is this relationship that provides the most chilling twist in this already-labyrinthine story. As more is revealed, both the viewer and Dae-su Oh are kept off-balance... shouldn't more information start providing certainty? Not here, at least for a while.

Oldboy is unlike anything one is likely to see in North America [including a sushi scene that would make the SPCA go on alert], mainly because the filmmaker has the confidence both to let his story reveal itself and to give his audience credit for the intelligence to follow it. Part of the attraction is that one is compelled to try to figure out a puzzle that is impossible to figure out. What a ride.

Review #7 – The Spanish Prisoner

I love the cheap-bin at our local video store; while there is plenty of crap, the opportunity to find a gem or six makes the bin worth looking through. I particularly like it when it is obvious that the store has pulled all the poor-renting film; regardless of virtue they will be dumped if enough folks don't rent them. My tastes are, by most people's standards, eclectic; therefore, I stand a pretty good chance of finding good stuff, even in a fairly picked-over bin.

On a recent foray, I grabbed The Spanish Prisoner, David Mamet's acclaimed 1997 production. I must express a prejudice: I love David Mamet's work, especially the writing... he's penned such diverse works as The Verdict, Wag the Dog, The Untouchables, Ronin, Hoffa, Glengarry Glen Ross, State and Main, and House of Games...

As with other Mamet works, the strength of The Spanish Prisoner is the dialogue. Mamet spends about as much time thinking about realism as Alfred Hitchcock ever did; that is to say, not much... this type of cinematic formalism is an acquired taste, I suppose, but I like a filmmaker who give me credit for knowing that I am watching a film and that someone is leading me along... if reality is a virtue, I'll go outside and take a look...

Mamet's craft best expresses itself in what his characters say: one interchange, for example... Joe Ross: "Funny old world." Susan Ricci: "Funny old world? Dog my cats!" Joe Ross: "Dog my cats indeed." What does this mean? I don't know, but it's fun. He has other characters spout such worthies as "Worry is like interest paid in advance on a debt that never comes due" [George Lang]; "We must never forget that we are human, and as humans we dream, and when we dream we dream of money" [Lang, again]; "Beware of all enterprises which require new clothes" [and again]; "Always do business as if the person you're doing business with is trying to screw you, because he probably is. And if he's not, you can be pleasantly surprised" [Jimmy Dell].

The title of this piece comes from a long-con... "oldest con in the world", as one of the detectives says... I doubt this; I am sure there are cons pre-dating the existence of Spain, but I quibble needlessly. [If you don't know what is meant by con, click the link] I am sure of pre-existing cons because they seems elemental to human nature; we recognize that Joe, the nice-guy central character played by Cambell Scott, is in a heap-o-trouble right from the outset, precisely because he IS a nice-guy. Joe has developed a mysteriously labelled "Process" that will allow the company he works for to "control the world market". We are pretty sure that things aren't what they seem, but in what way? Can Joe trust anyone? Probably not... but he does.

The movie opens on a junket to a mysterious Carribean location; Joe is with his boss, Mr. Klein, his friend, George, and his secretary, Susan, none of whom seem completely trustworthy. While on the island, he meets Jimmy, who definitely is not what he seems. There are mysterious packages, mysterious relatives, mysterious other guests, mysterious passers-by... after a while, everyone seems worthy of our suspicions. Poor Joe... it takes quite a bit to shake him; in fact, viewers might want to give him a shake, because he's so significantly naive. Scott plays his convincingly, though, as a man so lost in his formulae and figures that the reality of his existence escapes him... it isn't until actual menace slaps him in the face that he reacts, and, once awakened, he uses his analytic ability to work out the problem.

Without giving away too much of the plot I will say that the story resolves itself, somewhat, but one can't help hearing a faint chuckle from the filmmaker, especially when there appear to be significant holes in the ending; perhaps he's laughing at our need for any sort of resolution. And any discussion of story-arc conventions will just ruin the joy of this film, which is just watching and hearing smart words coming from characters we want to hear from... how refreshing. This film's relatively obvious low budget is part of the charm; one gets the impression that these talented people made this movie because they wanted to, and their dedication comes through.

Review #6 – Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

There is good stuff and not-so-good stuff in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. A lame opening for a review, I guess, but reflective of how I am feeling an hour and a half after leaving the theatre... it is so much easier to review a film that can be raved about [have you seen Lives of Others?]... or one that cannot be raved about [don't get me started about Nacho Libre... how can you make an unexciting, unfunny film about Lucha Libre?]... but I digress, often.

NaNIP has, at its core, a good story; it is adapted from a novel by Rachel Cohn, and I think that some of the difficulties come from the filmmakers' trying to keep true to the text. For future reference, note that film scripts run at about a page a minute. Cohn's novel is 192 minutes long. NaNIP: the movie is 90 minutes long. Something has to give.

There are any number of good side issues in this movie: the gay friends; the bandmates (same thing); the lost-drunk-friend-who-needs-to-be-found-before-the-story-can-be-resolved (wow, a lot of hyphens!... I do love me some punctuation); the mysteriously (dis)appearing band; life in the 'burbs vs. the CITY; the bitchy ex-girl friend; the loser ex-boyfriend; the influential father; et cetera... you get the picture... any number of good side issues, but too many of this good thing; choose one or two and get on with the show.

That being said there is much to like in NaNIP [I like this acronym and will keep using it]; the characters are sympathetic and interesting, including the myriad of friends. The music is tremendous; in fact, there could be more focus on the music... many movies cavalierly jam songs in at every opportunity so that the soundtrack can be amazing, but this movie is rife with motivation for putting in another song.

What is this movie about, you ask? Whoops, I've made it a fair way into this review without saying much about the plot. Nick (Michael Cera) has been dumped by his girl, Tris (Alexis Dziena). He doesn't want to leave the house. His bandmates (Aaron Yoo, Rafi Gavron) make him, because they have a gig. He meets Norah (Kat Dennings) at the gig. She has had a crush-from-a-distance on him for a while, because of the spiffy mixed-tapes [actually CDs] that he made for his undeserving ex-girlfriend. They run around New York, looking for the elusive band, Where's Fluffy, and Caroline (Ari Graynor), Norah's drunk and lost friend. Any more description would constitute a spoiler, and, while I have serious reservations about this movie, I don't want to spoil it for you. It is entertaining and worth a look, but I know that I am in trouble when I start re-editing a movie in my head while I am watching it.

One other note: I would like to nominate NaNIP for a best-use-of-a-Yugo in a full-length feature film award. Nothing says fun like a ratty car from a country that no longer exists! [I used to own a Lada].

Review #5 – American Teen

Last night the second installment of Cinema CNC's Fall Season 2008 took place. On display was American Teen, Nanette Burstein's latest effort. It was well-received by our audience, which was decently-sized, considering that it is the Thanksgiving weekend.

The film is an entertaining depiction of life for a very specific set of teens: white, middle-class, middle-American youngsters with few enough external anxieties to stimulate them that they can concentrate on themselves [as opposed to kids with urban or geographic disadvantages... the inner-city or extreme remoteness, for instance]. You can probably hear some elements of my reluctance to fully endorse this effort; while an interesting film, these folks can hardly be held up as representative of all American teens... this is no Up Series [Michael Apted's brilliant growing-up-British document]. There is one black face in this film, and no Hispanic, Asian, or anybody "other" to give a nod to balance, other than the fact that some of the kids live in big houses [upper middle-class] and some kids live in small houses [lower middle-class], whooee.

Having voiced this concern, I will now reveal that I found the film oddly effective; I experienced being transported almost 30 years in time, remembering what is was like to be in high school: I felt the picked-on kids' pain; I felt indignant at the actions of some and gloried in the bravery of others; I developed a crush on Hannah; I looked around for someone smaller to stuff into a locker... all in all, I identified with this film because I lived it. Sneaky, eh?

The four main characters are an interesting mix: Megan, the popular-girl/ colossal bitch; Colin, the jock nice-guy; Jake, the acne-suffering geek; and Hannah, the outsider/ alt. girl. These depictions, of course, will strike a chord with any reader who reads this and attended high school in North America... we know these people... we are these people. And they are more complex than they appear... Megan keeps layering on the meanness, but an event from her past mitigates [but does not excuse] some of her actions... Colin, the thinnest-developed of the characters, has a dad who, when he isn't pressuring Colin to do well at basketball so that he can get a college scholarship, performs as an Elvis impersonator at the local Ramada... Jake might be geeky, but he isn't nerdy; he's oddly brave in his quest to meet girls, despite his heart-rending anxiety about his spotty complexion... and Hannah is a free-spirited, smart, and engaging young woman, who, despite her cranky mother's telling her "you're not special", is so obviously special, and so obviously constrained by living in Warsaw, Indiana, that one cannot help but cheer for her... did I tell you I had a crush? Of course, it is revealed [and glossed over] that she is under medical supervision for her dark thoughts, and it is alluded that her mom has a psychological inability to cope, but in this soup of homogenized middle-america, this character is refreshing.

Having expressed concern about the over-all representativeness of this movie, I must also express concern at the stageyness of it. The characters are so aware of the camera, indeed so obviously playing to it, that one is a bit uncomfortable at times. Some of the scenes appear to be "historical recreations", because the actions are too coordinated and the camera is in precisely the right spot too often for any other explaination [except, perhaps, clairvoyance]. This effort might make the film more genuinely entertaining, but it detracts from the notion that we are seeing the inside of a world that, even if we were once insiders, is unfamiliar to us. One gets the impression that we are seeing "teens for foreigners", much like one might go to a Flamenco show in Madrid... it is real, in-as-much-as they are really dancing and really wearing the outfits, and for 30 euros, including your first glass of wine, you can experience it, too.

There are real teen actions here, too: hanging out with friends, parties, school, good actions, bad actions, cruelty, triumph... and in many ways this is enough to redeem this film. The director spent a whole year in Warsaw, filming hundreds of hours of action, which gives us an insight into the thoughts and actions of a specific group of young people. The fact that I had a shudder [or two] of recognition tells me that, for all the artifice, this movie tells important truths.

Review #4 – And When Did You Last See Your Father?

This was the first film of the Fall 2008 Cinema CNC season, and it was a great choice, if I must say so myself.

When I read the description and some other reviews, I had some reservations –– is it maudlin? slow? trite? –– because, even though the writers were saying nice things, I sensed some reservations and, rightly, was suspicious. I am happy to report, for those who might consider this opinion worthy, that these suspicions are unwarranted.

The strengths of And When Did You Last See Your Father? rest with the acting, the characters, and the narrative structure... and the central question of seeing, really seeing, is consistently addressed. Thus, we have a film in which the three major constructors–– original author, director, and actors –– all do their jobs admirably... how refreshing.

Blake Morrison wrote the autobiographical account and is, therefore, responsible for the creation of believable characters, especially the father, played by Jim Broadbent, and the son, played by Colin Firth [and by Bradley Johnson as a young boy, and Matthew Beard as a teen... significant contributions in their own right]. The dad, Arthur, comes across as, variably, both sympathetic and unsympathetic... I am quite sure that I would like to meet him at a party, on one hand, but I am also equally convinced that I would not like to be related to him. The son, Blake, toys with our sympathies, too... he seems like he needs a boot in the butt sometimes, but at other times I found myself physically cringing on his behalf.

The acting in this film is superb. Colin Firth has developed his acting chops nicely, and now is atractive in more substantial ways that merely having once been Mr. Darcy [yes, I can hear you: "but he was THAT Mr. Darcy" (swoon)]. Jim Broadbent is inspired in his depiction of Arthur... I know that the word "inspired" usually denotes a certain scene-stealing quality, but I assure you that his inspiration is in quietly depicting this very-human man [as opposed to what is often on offer in the moving pictures] and leaving the audience to make critical determinations. A nod, too, to Juliet Stevenson for her role as Kim Morrison, mother and wife to the two central characters... and long-suffering she appears to be.

I must also give praise for the casting of this film: each of the characters that is supposed to be related [or might be... watch it and find out] looks like they are related. If you told me that Colin Firth is Jim Broadbent's boy, I would believe you ... other than the fact that there is only 11 years between their dates-of-birth. This is even more alarming for Juliet Stevenson... she is only 4 years older that Colin Firth! She does appear relatively youthful, but it is testament to the professionalism of the cast that these seeming discrepancies are skillfully overcome.

The director, Anand Tucker, structured his film in such a way that character is revealed carefully. The film jumps back and forth between earlier, formative moments and the present time of Arthur's decline. In doing so, our sympathies shift, and what could have been a trite condemnation of a boorish father, or an annoying whine of a privileged, but picked-on, child becomes a significant exploration of a complex relationship. by the time that the end of the film comes, the audience is quite ready for the central question posited by the title to be illuminated, and answered.

Watch this film... then phone someone you miss.