This could also count for other films of the Usual Suspects-Tarantino Copy generation. This is a sh*t film. To avoid being automatically disregarded, I won't compare it to Citizen Kane. So how about: in comparison to City Lights, The Passion of Joan of Arc, Vertigo, The Wrong Man, All About Eve, Vivre Sa Vie... damnit, even Pulp Fiction! this film is no masterpiece, and is pap entertainment the value of the Big Lebowski or Forrest Gump. Every now and then you have to reassure yourself of true artistic endeavour, with a good stare at Vermeer's Head of a Girl, a listen to Beethoven's 9th, Kind of Blue, or Beatles for Sale, or a good intense session of silent film studying. Even watching cinema as far ahead as Raging Bull. What tragically detracts from the art are films like the usual suspects, and even worse, the confusion between them and true masterpieces.
Reviews
4 Reviews
Closer
(I) (2004)
Another entry in the adult's mature school of film-making.
4 December 2005
Mike Nichols brings us an exercise in love and poses some complex - some pretentious - questions about the nature of humans. The motif that generally brackets each scene as repetition of the last with different variables could be taken as a statement that we are all the same as humans, that it needn't matter if it's Natalie Portman and Jude Law arguing or Julia Roberts and Clive Owen. That love is as material as those advertising it. Or it could be that it shouldn't be taken that far, and it is actually a simple examination of our nature as lovers: to love; to quarrel.
But whatever the film's repetitive structure is supposed to pertain, the film is ultimately a purposely complicated result of pseudo-maturity. The relentlessly ornamental dialogue is beautiful, and sounds like post-modern Chandler in a romance-drama setting. And for all its tricky one-line-ruminations, it gives the film a scent of Nouvelle Vague surrealism that would be - and IS - stale in any other modern movie. Nichols' direction is as stagely as the dialogue - not to say that it's theatrical - and gives the film a sense of refreshment. The London mist and grey-white streets, accompanied by Goldblatt's bare cinematography and the sparely tragic Damien Rice soundtrack all seat quietly next to one another to finish off the film's hush and lull sensibility.
The actors, too, are superb, and each withhold their characters with reassuring strength. The real darling of it all, however, is the overall feeling of conception about it. In the same way music can be conceptualised into a purposeful evocation of any theme, Closer is a document of love, and how it affects us, though not on such a large scale: it is a document of love affecting four people, and how they affect us.
This film is, for those who like to analyse-beyond-the-artist's- intentions, uncharted territory. But for shallower viewers, and viewers with more insight than either alike, Mike Nichols' 2004 outing is one that will be most enjoyed by those who believe maturity means being angry and upset.
But whatever the film's repetitive structure is supposed to pertain, the film is ultimately a purposely complicated result of pseudo-maturity. The relentlessly ornamental dialogue is beautiful, and sounds like post-modern Chandler in a romance-drama setting. And for all its tricky one-line-ruminations, it gives the film a scent of Nouvelle Vague surrealism that would be - and IS - stale in any other modern movie. Nichols' direction is as stagely as the dialogue - not to say that it's theatrical - and gives the film a sense of refreshment. The London mist and grey-white streets, accompanied by Goldblatt's bare cinematography and the sparely tragic Damien Rice soundtrack all seat quietly next to one another to finish off the film's hush and lull sensibility.
The actors, too, are superb, and each withhold their characters with reassuring strength. The real darling of it all, however, is the overall feeling of conception about it. In the same way music can be conceptualised into a purposeful evocation of any theme, Closer is a document of love, and how it affects us, though not on such a large scale: it is a document of love affecting four people, and how they affect us.
This film is, for those who like to analyse-beyond-the-artist's- intentions, uncharted territory. But for shallower viewers, and viewers with more insight than either alike, Mike Nichols' 2004 outing is one that will be most enjoyed by those who believe maturity means being angry and upset.
Deep Impact
(1998)
Bring me Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers and George Gershwin, please! Not THIS...
12 August 2005
And here we have Hollywood's same old ball park! Who's playing tonight? Some no-stretch-cast actors and a no-stretch action-director. Why should this film have been made? Because it thoughtfully brought into the spotlight the reality of obliteration by an asteroid? NO. It's all wrong, to start, and it's all pap to boot. Let's do some science-fact scouring here: asteroids aren't burning balls of flame that scientists can see from lightyears away - those are "stars". Asteroids are black. Space is black. The chances of anyone seeing an asteroid are profoundly minimal, considering the previous fact and that fact that space is, LITERALLY, unimaginably vast and empty. The only way to spot this asteroid would be if we were told exactly where it was and where to look; even then we'd only be able to see it as it passed in front of stars and blocked them from view. You see how hard it is to spot a block of ice that reflects virtually no light and hence is completely black against a black backdrop? These 'film-makers' don't.
Also... let's talk about the movie, perhaps. (I'm watching it right now, actually, it's on TV.) Téa Leoni has just been pulled over by the FBI in a way wholly un-governmental: by bashing their cars against hers. Are they Hillbillies? Are they? No, they're not...
And, OH! the sentimentality of it all. Of Elijah bloody Wood and his girlfriend. I always find it hilarious when an action director (Michael Bay in mind) talks about his films like they are true pieces of art: the 'human' aspect of the film, the 'conflict of interchanging character interfaces as represented against a backdrop of political and societal ruminations', etc., etc....
Just suppose, for a moment, that Hollywood got its arse in gear altogether and began producing - not REproducing - real movies like they once did. I don't mean real movies like ANYbody makes nowadays, I mean real movies like real masterpieces of interesting stories - that's right, STORIES - and wonderful characters, and managed to employ some real directors and real actors and real producers. What would it be like if these movies I speak of were in production? Does anyone think they'd be anything like THIS muckapiece? No! Why, you ask impatiently? Because THIS is a crap film. Because THIS is a crap action film. Because THIS is a crap action film about science - which they got wrong. That is why nobody should see this film anymore. That's why it's only enjoyable because it's a lightweight cascade through self-referential sentiment and self-conscious actors. Watch it if you want to feel prosperous about a future career making BETTER movies than this.
Robert Duvall was in BOTH the Godfather masterpieces. Is it his fault these films are the only way he's gonna get work? No. It's because these films are the only ones in production. Be sensible. Please.
Also... let's talk about the movie, perhaps. (I'm watching it right now, actually, it's on TV.) Téa Leoni has just been pulled over by the FBI in a way wholly un-governmental: by bashing their cars against hers. Are they Hillbillies? Are they? No, they're not...
And, OH! the sentimentality of it all. Of Elijah bloody Wood and his girlfriend. I always find it hilarious when an action director (Michael Bay in mind) talks about his films like they are true pieces of art: the 'human' aspect of the film, the 'conflict of interchanging character interfaces as represented against a backdrop of political and societal ruminations', etc., etc....
Just suppose, for a moment, that Hollywood got its arse in gear altogether and began producing - not REproducing - real movies like they once did. I don't mean real movies like ANYbody makes nowadays, I mean real movies like real masterpieces of interesting stories - that's right, STORIES - and wonderful characters, and managed to employ some real directors and real actors and real producers. What would it be like if these movies I speak of were in production? Does anyone think they'd be anything like THIS muckapiece? No! Why, you ask impatiently? Because THIS is a crap film. Because THIS is a crap action film. Because THIS is a crap action film about science - which they got wrong. That is why nobody should see this film anymore. That's why it's only enjoyable because it's a lightweight cascade through self-referential sentiment and self-conscious actors. Watch it if you want to feel prosperous about a future career making BETTER movies than this.
Robert Duvall was in BOTH the Godfather masterpieces. Is it his fault these films are the only way he's gonna get work? No. It's because these films are the only ones in production. Be sensible. Please.
The Godfather
(1972)
Organised Crime Goes To Hollywood! What's changed? Nothing!
3 July 2005
Francis Coppola's The Godfather, and Godfather pt. II have made their names known rightfully as masterpieces of cinema. They are both executed with razor-like care and crafted atop a foundation of brilliant actors, a brilliant director, a brilliant script by a brilliant writer, brilliant photography, brilliant production design, and a brilliant score. And it was the first film to give mainstream insight to the world of Ogranised Crime - an insight so true that Mario Puzo was questioned by the Mafia about his sources.
But The Godfather is not just a vehicle of power for its wonderful foundations and brilliant everything, it is a drama about war between families - about destruction within families. From the film's buoyant wedding opening scene, we are instantly emerged in Coppola and Puzo's world of rich characters and gripping stories. This film could have been about a mining family in the nineteenth century - though things would have to change - and it would still be as entertaining, as tragic, as exciting, and as masterful as it is just now.
But The Godfather is not just a vehicle of power for its wonderful foundations and brilliant everything, it is a drama about war between families - about destruction within families. From the film's buoyant wedding opening scene, we are instantly emerged in Coppola and Puzo's world of rich characters and gripping stories. This film could have been about a mining family in the nineteenth century - though things would have to change - and it would still be as entertaining, as tragic, as exciting, and as masterful as it is just now.
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