DDLing

So, on a bit of a Daniel Day-Lewis high this week, I decided to watch Last of the Mohicans, which I'd never seen. Yeah, it's not really that great -- I mean, it's entertaining, don't get me wrong. But it's not, like, goood. It does, however, have the best canoe chase scene in all of cinema history.

Also, I've come to the conclusion, after this and The Unbearable Lightness of Being which I watched a few weeks ago, that Daniel Day-Lewis only really shines when he's either got an Irish accent or a huge mustache. Fair play -- I'm becoming more and more convinced of the inherent power of a good mustache (on a side note, that's musTACHE, not MUStache). I think all men capable of growing a big mustache should do so, immediately, and should kick themselves for living so long without one.

in summary:

good







not so good















very, very good

There Will Be Blood

As I mentioned yesterday, I saw There Will Be Blood last week. It was the first film in a very long time that I immediately wanted to watch again. I nearly went back and saw it a second time this afternoon, but stopped myself as I had other obligations. I'm sure I'll watch it again before it leaves the cinemas out here.

So, I'm not entirely sure where to begin a discussion. Part of it has to do with the fact that I was already in a heightened emotional state when I saw it, for various reasons, and so I was more receptive to the emotional content of the film. I can't get the thing out of my head, and this is generally a very good sign. The thing is . . . it's not just the story, or the acting, or the cinematography or the dialog or the sound editing or the musical score or the sets or the sweeping panoramas -- don't get me wrong, I think all of these things were handled masterfully -- but in watching this film, even while I was utterly captivated and carried away into the world it creates and the personalities that inhabit it, I always, at every moment, had the distinct feeling that I was witnessing a creation borne ultimately out of a total love for the form. I trusted the filmmakers implicitly to make the right choices for the story and the characters, because their love was so pure.

This is an emotional response -- it is not rational. Rationally, I can look at the film and say, everything was handled very expertly, there is maybe a scene or two toward the end I would have handled slightly differently, but not really . . . maybe a point, just one, where I thought Daniel Day-Lewis hammed it up just a touch too much, so that I was distracted by the fact that it was Daniel Day-Lewis playing this character . . . but on the whole an incredibly well-made film. Emotionally, however, I feel compelled to pronounce it an utter and complete masterpiece, without any flaws, or even to say the flaws are a necessary part of its brilliance, and to remove them would do the whole a grave disservice.

Not being able to get it out of my head, I did some research and found this video:



which is Paul Thomas Anderson and Daniel Day-Lewis talking about the movie on Charlie Rose. If you enjoyed the film half as much as I did, I'd recommend watching this episode of Charlie Rose, especially if you have a love for cinema in general. It is ultimately a conversation with two people who LOVE their chosen crafts, and to watch them describe their work process and creative process is inspiring. P.T. Anderson is approaching filmmaking in exactly the right way -- he talks about this totally organic process of collaboration and creation, and I know he didn't win the oscar last night, and maybe he didn't deserve it anyway, but listening to him talk about filmmaking convinces me beyond any doubt that he has a long and incredibly artistically successful career ahead of him.

Daniel Day-Lewis, meanwhile, reminds me that acting is actually an art, and quite a stunning one when approached with the love and devotion he holds for it. I so often write actors off, or think of them as simply props for the director to manipulate. Listening to Day-Lewis talk about his craft is such a great wake-up call from that way of thinking. He can be a bit hammy, but on the whole I agree with Charlie Rose in thinking he is one of, if not the best actor working today. He certainly sacrifices more of himself than most for the roles he plays.

Anyway, as is probably fairly obvious, I'm quite taken with this film, even more so than the other films I've been so taken with recently. If you haven't seen it, GO SEE IT. If you didn't feel the same about it, I'd be up for a discussion -- let me know what you thought.

Oh, on a side note, I found this website called http://www.idrinkyourmilkshake.com, which, among other nice things, allows you to listen to the milkshake line over and over and over again, which is really more enjoyable than I could have imagined possible. Yeah.

oscar picks?

How about some Oscar picks? You know, I've been looking all day for a place to stream the oscars online, but no luck thus far. Not having a tv and living in the land of kilts and haggis is not boding well. Normally I wouldn't care, but as there are a bunch of really good movies nominated for oscars this year, I do wish I could watch. Oh well. Anyway, here they are -- not my predictions, mind you, but my picks. If all was right in the world, good and just and everybody could understand that I am always right, these would be the winners:

Best Picture: There Will Be Blood. I know that No Country For Old Men will probably win, but it shouldn't. There Will Be Blood is monumental, groundbreaking, epic -- I saw it a week ago and I'm still too speechless to even write up my thoughts on the thing. I need to see it again. Several times.

Best Director: If I were thinking diplomatically, I would say the Coen Brothers deserve this one, because their back-catalog is so strong on top of No Country, which is a brilliant little film. But I'm very torn, because P.T. Anderson has done such a stunning thing this year. I guess I'd give it to the Coens, and expect that Anderson's next film is going to be so undeniably fantastic that there will be no doubt he will win then. I should make the disclaimer that I have yet to see The Diving Bell and The Butterfly, so I can't speak about that nomination.

Best Actor: Daniel Day Lewis, absolutely no question. Though I do have to say I was surprised by what a nuanced little performance George Clooney pulled off in Michael Clayton. Nothing compares to Lewis though. Seriously.

Best Actress: Ok, I've actually only seen Juno -- for some reason the movies with meaty roles for women rarely appeal to me. Not enough blood, maybe? Anyway, Ellen Page was great, but I'm not gonna make any pick in this category.

Supporting Actress: Ditto -- the only one I caught was Michael Clayton, and I wasn't particularly moved by Tilda Swinton's performance in that.

Supporting Actor: I am fairly certain Javier Bardem is going to win this one, but if all were right in the world, I have to say the award would go to Casey Affleck -- it was a more challenging role, and he totally slaughtered it. Don't get me wrong, Bardem is fantastic. I just think Affleck is more fantastic.

Cinematography: I feel very passionate about this one. I think that The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is hands down the most beautifully shot movie made in a very long time. It blew me away, and even though There Will Be Blood comes a close second for me in this category, there is no question in my mind that Jesse James deserves it.

Music (Score): Just a comment here that Jonny Greenwood was totally and completely robbed. I don't know what the controversy was, but his score for There Will Be Blood is easily the best score this year.

Music (Song): Once. Ok, I didn't see any of the other films, but that song in Once is so lovely, it should win regardless. I'm sure it's more lovely than the other songs nominated.

Sound Editing: There Will Be Blood. For the opening scene alone. It's not even a contest, really.

Adapted Screenplay: The Coen Brothers have made absolutely the most perfect adaptation of a novel to the screen ever. Seriously. They made No Country For Old Men look like it did in my head when I read the book. Perfect.

Original Screenplay: Juno, though I haven't seen The Savages. On a side note, how the hell did Lars and the Real Girl get nominated? That movie was bad, the writing was awful, it was barely watchable and then only because of moderately descent performances.

These are the only categories I want to comment on, because the others are full of movies I haven't watched. If all was good and right in the world. Hm, I want to go to the movies now.

words

It's not that I don't have things to say, or the words to say them. Increasingly, I prefer expressing myself with pictures instead of words. And after an extended period of relishing a raw, open, cynical vulnerability, I find that I once again prefer to keep things to myself -- to build a little wall between you and me, to protect myself from the subtle pains and regrets. I do, in theory, want to be wide open for you. The problem is that I don't trust myself or my perceived honesty. From one day to the next, I see things differently. Monday's truths are Tuesday's blatant fallacies. The best I can hope is to latch on to those things that show a pattern of falling on one side or another. But of the things that are so changeable as to make my head spin, well, for now I suppose it's best to just keep them to myself.

I'm coming to a comfortable middle-ground with my existential unknowns. It is not answers, nor is it solace or relief. It is not faith, exactly, and it is not nihilism. It is just an ability to ponder and explore without debilitating pain and anxiety. I take this as the most convincing sign I've had that I am becoming, finally, adult. Not abandoning the playful curiosity of childhood, but shedding, finally, the insecurities and compulsions and anxieties and the pure madness of youth. Accepting, finally, the inevitabilities -- not embracing them, not excited about them, but accepting them. Which is infinitely better than fighting against something it is utterly impossible to alter.

So, I've been watching a bit of Bergman lately, especially the later stuff. Fanny and Alexander, the full 5 hour miniseries version, is fantastic, absolutely worth the time, totally recommended to everyone.

Union Station, Sacremento

The urban cowboy wears a cowboy hat, shiny red snakeskin boots, a big gold watch, and a black leather coat -- mid thigh length, unless he's a serious hustler, in which case he might sport a duster. He has an expertly manicured goatee and small, piercing eyes. The painted-on wranglers, crisp unfaded black. Silver bolo to match a silver belt buckle. He walks tall with his shoulders thrown back, and when he stands to contemplate something, he cocks one hip out and places the curled pointy toe of his right boot at a fourty-five degree angle from his elbows, which stand out from the hips on which his hands are placed.

Tucson this year

Everything is so big, and so American. There are cactus and palm trees everywhere. The streets are so wide, and the sidewalks are made of gravel. There are beautiful blue mountains surrounding the city, which is a little shock of emerald green laying peacefully in the valley of five mountain ranges.

Quails run across the road. A dead javelina slowly bloats on the shoulder of Sunrise Drive near Skyline, and coyotes wait patiently in the hills for nightfall to drag it away.

The sky is clear and blindingly blue, and everyone wears scarves when the temperature dips below sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Everyone smiles and says 'hello,' and if you buy something, they wish you a nice day.

It takes nearly an hour to drive from one end of town to the other, but in the same amount of time you can find yourself in the middle of a saguaro desert or on the top of a pine-covered mountain, or in Mexico.

In town on a Friday night, the low buzz of the ghetto bird can sometimes be ignored, but its spotlight illuminating the darkness around you surely cannot. In the bars, local celebrities belt out rockabilly originals with contorted faces.

It is sunny more than 300 days a year. The trees are green all year long, and the bougainvillea in my mother's back yard is still blooming on Christmas day.

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

is a really, really, really good movie. It is mesmerizing, meditative, beautiful, captivating... There is a scene early in the film where the James gang robs a train, and the cinematography is so strikingly, brilliantly fantastic that it actually, no hyperbole sent shivers down my spine. I said to myself, "Holy shit, this movie just sent shivers down my spine."

I have not ever seen a movie like this one. Actually. I can think of movies that can compare in terms of the pacing (deliberate, methodical, slow) or subject matter ('existential' as Mark Kermode describes it) or even the way it's shot (painterly, favoring aesthetics over anything else), but there is something more to this -- it's this combination of foreign (ie not American, my apologies for not having a better word for it than that) aesthetics and something uniquely American, both in style and subject.

It is long, but my only quibble is a five minute interlude near the end of the film that I find unnecessary and a bit distracting. The rest of the length is necessary, for the slow, steady build, the full immersion into the atmosphere created, and the increasing tension, which only finds relief as the credits roll -- I didn't realize how tense my entire body had become until "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" came onto the screen, in solid white block letters, signaling the end of the movie. I took a breath, and suddenly felt like it was the first breath I'd taken in two and a half hours. The movie has no opening credits, no titles whatsoever. It simply begins, slow and steady (like the tortoise...) and does not look back until the whole thing is over and done with.

Certain things stuck with me more than others. The way Jesse's wife reacts when he is shot -- horrified, to be sure, but also somehow rehearsed, and not at all surprised. You get the impression she's gone over the moment countless times, preparing for its inevitable consummation. The moment on the ice when Jesse asks Charles Ford if he ever contemplated suicide, and his motives for every decision thus far and to follow become suddenly clear.

Superb acting (especially by Casey Affleck), fantastically melodramatic score by Nick Cave, and every element of film making expertly executed.

I want to say something about the way movies make us feel, and about how I love that I often feel I can't trust my first impressions of a movie, because they are so often based on emotion, and if a movie makes me feel anything I generally think very highly of it and have trouble immediately recognizing its faults. I love this. I love that I enjoy watching movies so much that even a halfway shitty movie can make me feel like I love it. This movie, by the way, is not halfway shitty, but it is such an emotional, visceral thing that it made me think about what it is that I love so much about movies in general -- which is their amazing, incomparable ability to make us Feel, feel amazing, powerful things, feel love or hate or anger or jealousy or elation or relief or suspense or sorrow. And I love the fact that there are people doing this utterly commercial thing (due to production costs, it simply can't be helped) with no commercial motives whatsoever -- people who can keep their purity of vision and create these amazing masterpieces. And I love any movie that feels like this, like somebody loved it, somebody put everything they have into it, into making it say this perfect, lovely thing better than anybody else has said it. The truth is, I like most movies I see, and the reasons I dislike the movies I dislike almost always come down to either profit vs vision or filmmaking that doesn't challenge the viewer or the filmmakers. I simply will not accept compromise -- life is too short to ever compromise your vision for a few bucks, and the true, the brilliant artists figure this out early, and will fight to the death (figurative death.. death of the piece of art, I mean) to preserve their vision. I will quibble technically about any film, because I enjoy being the critic, but technical complaints do not supersede the love I have for movies that are made with love and with passion.

I love movies, and I love the movie I saw tonight.

Scratch that, reverse it

Ok, last post about Wes Anderson. I promise. I think. I take back what I said about his female characters -- I've just been rewatching Rushmore, and I don't think I was right. The fact is that Anderson tells stories about immature man-children (man-childs?). All his movies center around male characters suffering from acute arrested development. The female characters are treated the way they are because that is how the male characters view them -- they are immature characters, so naturally they will have an immature understanding of women, not as autonomous beings, but as these sort of savior/object of desire/object of frustration individuals. Also, the absence of or failure of the father figures naturally compels the males to seek comfort in a maternal ideal.

Now I sound like all the media texts that used to drive me crazy in college. My point is that I changed my mind. I don't think Wes Anderson is immature or sexist. His characters are.

Magnificent Anderson...

After internal turmoil over Darjeeling Limited, I went back and rewatched Life Aquatic and Bottle Rocket, the two Wes Anderson films I have negative feelings about. I'd only watched each of them once before. I still don't care for Bottle Rocket, but it has a nice, "this guy is gonna do great things" quality about it which is fun to see. The plot is weak, but the characters are developed in a really appealing, quirky, touching but not quite realistic way. It's also nice to see something so stripped down, considering how ornate and flamboyant Anderson's films have become. I liked The Life Aquatic a lot more than I remember, and unlike Darjeeling Limited, which I thought was strong in the beginning and got weaker toward the end, I felt Life Aquatic did the opposite -- it starts off real fluffy, all style and no substance, and grows into a very touching, emotional comedy-drama. This progression actually makes sense, given the subject matter. It's a really, really good film. Not as good as Tenenbaums and Rushmore, but still very good. All this rewatching has made me very curious to watch Darjeeling again. I can understand the critics more -- I see distinct plot elements swiped from all the early films in order to make the new one, and I wonder if I like it for what it is, or for what I want to believe it could have been. It is the first time I've come out of a Wes Anderson film with a clear idea of specific things that could have been done better.

The revisitation did reaffirm what a strong and nuanced actor Owen Wilson is -- I had forgotten the incredibly downplayed performance he pulled in Life Aquatic. It's really touching, especially contrasted against the irritating half-mad character he plays in Bottle Rocket, and (the same, only less mad and more just neurotic) in Darjeeling Limited.

There's something else I want to say about the lack of meaty female characters. Apart from Royal Tenenbaums, which had Anjelica Huston as a strong, fully fleshed-out character, none of the other films feature females as anything other than props for the male stars to react to or against. I have the same problem with Scorsese, who has never in a long, long catalog, written or directed a film with a decent female character. It doesn't make him a bad writer or director, it only makes him a bit immature and sexist. The same, of course, goes for Anderson. I don't think these directors should make movies about women, only that the female characters that do show up in their stories should be a bit more rounded, developed, believable. A bit more autonomous. But I digress.

Hey, I really like this HBO show called "The Wire." I just got the 3rd season, I'm gonna go watch it now. Also, I've got tonsillitis. So, you know, no making out for a little while.

Darjeeling Limited

I like The Darjeeling Limited. The more I think about it, the more I like it. I want to see it again. I like Wes Anderson, but I think he's a bit hit or miss. I didn't care for Bottle Rocket all that much, and I thought Life Aquatic was really good fun, but sort of forgettable and emotionally vacant. I think The Royal Tennenbaums is close to perfection, and I feel the same way about Rushmore.

The Darjeeling Limited is not perfect. There are some awkward moments, a few times when I whispered to myself, "er, that was a misstep," and the story seems to lose its way for a little while in the third act. But it is a warm, beautiful movie, with characters both flawed and familiar, a first act so brilliantly hilarious that I belly laughed throughout it, and a story arc that works, I think, incredibly well. Mark Kermode, who's opinion I agree with more often than not, said that the movie is flawed because it ends up falling in love with what it starts out lampooning -- Americans as "philosophical tourists" searching for a packaged spiritual experience. But I think Kermode is missing the point here, entirely. Westerners going to the east are always, in my opinion and limited experience, very hard-pressed to not look like completely ridiculous sore-thumb privileged outsiders. The fact is that the cultures are strikingly different, and fitting a western perspective into an eastern environment is always awkward, especially at first. Anderson beautifully captures this awkwardness, as well as showing how eventually, if the travelers can open themselves up, the awkwardness can give way to something like spiritual growth, no matter how ridiculous it looks from the outside.

Some little things bothered me -- the boys coming out of the tent before the funeral in slow motion to the Kink's tune . . . it seemed like a total misstep to me, bad timing, wrong music, too quirky. Also, the third act false ending and subsequent visit to the mother -- the whole thing seemed a bit jerky and contrived, even though in the end I think Anderson brought it all back together in a touching, sentimental way that just skirted being too sentimental, and I really liked that. When it comes down to it, I love Wes Anderson's films, because I love the way he sees the world, and I love (LOVE) the fact that through cinema, I can see the world through his eyes. His mis-en-scene is like a fantastic journey to a world that is just utterly gorgeous, and no matter my little quibbles, I love watching his films for the meticulous style alone. Even better, this film actually came with quite a bit of substance as well.