People will tell you that “The Social Network” is the definitive movie of this year, possibly of this current generation. It will turn heads; realign planets, save our youth from moral degradation. In truth, however, “The Social Network” is just a good little movie. Its aspirations to be great prove to be both its source of success and failure.
The movie concerns Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), the Harvard student who created Facebook. Zuckerberg begins by humiliating his former girlfriend on his blog and then creating a website in which students can rate the attractiveness of female Harvard undergraduates. He sends his website around campus, and it proves to be a hit.
His success catches the attention of Cameron Winklevoss and Tyler Winklevoss, both played by Armie Hammer in a terrific dual performance. They want him to create a dating website for Harvard students; he takes their idea and molds it into the social network now known as Facebook. He co-founds Facebook with Eduardo (Andrew Garfield), the woefully unassuming best friend who loses almost everything. And to heighten the tension is Justin Timberlake as Sean Parker, creator of the website Napster and contributor to Facebook. Parker is a hopelessly arrogant entrepreneur and his inclusion into Facebook’s development creates more conflict than anticipated.
The story is interspersed with lawsuits filed against Zuckerberg by the Winklevosses and Eduardo respectively. Zuckerberg stole his ideas from the brothers and the credit from Eduardo. The narrative device is well employed but also shopworn. I’ll be glad when screenwriters gain back the confidence to frame these kinds of stories in a more straightforward manner.
Eisenberg, playing Zuckerberg as a kind of selfish letch whose being smart is his ruination, is perfect for the role, capturing a young-minded indifference familiar to today’s society. Timberlake is (surprise!) pretty good as Parker. You can say whatever you like about his musical abilities; he proves here he can be something of an actor. But its in Garfield that “The Social Network” finds someone worth caring about. Garfield, a sensitive actor, connects to emotions the audience can relate to. It was nice of the movie to throw us a bone.
David Fincher, as director, melds everything together in a way that makes sense. But something has to be said for my missing of the zest he brought to earlier pictures, such as “Fight Club” and “Seven.” Those movies weren’t nearly as respectable as “The Social Network,” but they also had more life.
Aaron Sorkin, screenwriter, will probably win an Oscar for his work. His dialogue is fast, funny, and clever and his characterizations are interesting and intelligent. But his script is also slow and uneventful at times and his statement on youth culture is obvious. The last scene of the film, reflecting sadly on the fragmented conditions of our social lives, is as relevant as it is superficial.
“The Social Network” is a good movie; one just wishes it had taken more chances.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Hereafter
It’s almost impossible to get mad at a film Clint Eastwood directs anymore. The much-respected director has pulled off enough startlingly wonderful films in recent years that it would seem in bad taste to tell him that one of his movies just wasn’t very good. Unfortunately, “Hereafter” just isn’t very good. But you get the sense that it’s the movie that’s letting Eastwood down, and not the other way around.
The film tells three stories: one concerns a former psychic turned factory worker named George Lonnegan (Matt Damon) whose brother tries to rope him back into the psychic trade. Another story centers on Marie Lelay (Cécile de France), a French television journalist who survives the 2004 tsunami while in Thailand and tries to recompose a life that’s been marked by death. And in the last story we have Marcus (Frankie McLaren), a 12-year-old boy living in England whose twin brother, Jason, has just died.
For a film about death — a broad, boundless topic — Peter Morgan’s script has surprisingly little to say. I respect his desire to avoid presumptions, but one feels that he’s not even trying. None of the stories seem to say anything about death; they simply revolve around its concept in order to have some needed thematic connection. There’s some spare otherworldly imagery, but the film doesn’t want to commit to any singular vision of death and in this way it begins to lose credibility. Toward the end, the film tries to tell you to enjoy being alive. As pleasant as this notion is, it would be nice of a film about death to be about death for once.
Damon is good here; painting a restrained portrait of a man whose fear of his connection to death has kept him from living at all. France, unfortunately, is more hit and miss. We see her transformation, but we don’t experience it. The film implies that Marie is a guarded person, but it’s France’s own guardedness that won’t let us see past this.
Eastwood as director does what he can and his rendering of the tsunami is powerful. Eastwood is not known for special effects of any kind and the fact that he employs special effects with such aplomb is surprising. But Eastwood has let the philosophical weightiness of Morgan’s script get the better of him. The sense of intimacy he lent to “Million Dollar Baby” would have benefited “Hereafter” enormously, instead the movie begins to feel distant rather than deliberate.
The film’s slack pacing and general melancholy attempted profoundness does not help either. However, by the time each story has been properly interwoven, there’s a kind of an odd silliness to the whole thing. Eastwood usually makes gritty and intimate films. A movie this Hollywood is so not Eastwood and there’s something both fascinating and frustrating in his directorial escape from the conventions he has established for himself. It’s nice to see Eastwood working outside of his comfort zone; one just wishes he had picked a better script.
The film tells three stories: one concerns a former psychic turned factory worker named George Lonnegan (Matt Damon) whose brother tries to rope him back into the psychic trade. Another story centers on Marie Lelay (Cécile de France), a French television journalist who survives the 2004 tsunami while in Thailand and tries to recompose a life that’s been marked by death. And in the last story we have Marcus (Frankie McLaren), a 12-year-old boy living in England whose twin brother, Jason, has just died.
For a film about death — a broad, boundless topic — Peter Morgan’s script has surprisingly little to say. I respect his desire to avoid presumptions, but one feels that he’s not even trying. None of the stories seem to say anything about death; they simply revolve around its concept in order to have some needed thematic connection. There’s some spare otherworldly imagery, but the film doesn’t want to commit to any singular vision of death and in this way it begins to lose credibility. Toward the end, the film tries to tell you to enjoy being alive. As pleasant as this notion is, it would be nice of a film about death to be about death for once.
Damon is good here; painting a restrained portrait of a man whose fear of his connection to death has kept him from living at all. France, unfortunately, is more hit and miss. We see her transformation, but we don’t experience it. The film implies that Marie is a guarded person, but it’s France’s own guardedness that won’t let us see past this.
Eastwood as director does what he can and his rendering of the tsunami is powerful. Eastwood is not known for special effects of any kind and the fact that he employs special effects with such aplomb is surprising. But Eastwood has let the philosophical weightiness of Morgan’s script get the better of him. The sense of intimacy he lent to “Million Dollar Baby” would have benefited “Hereafter” enormously, instead the movie begins to feel distant rather than deliberate.
The film’s slack pacing and general melancholy attempted profoundness does not help either. However, by the time each story has been properly interwoven, there’s a kind of an odd silliness to the whole thing. Eastwood usually makes gritty and intimate films. A movie this Hollywood is so not Eastwood and there’s something both fascinating and frustrating in his directorial escape from the conventions he has established for himself. It’s nice to see Eastwood working outside of his comfort zone; one just wishes he had picked a better script.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1
Things get serious in “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1,” for better or worse, and you find yourself in deeper and darker territory. Gone is Chris Columbus’s whimsical vision of J.K. Rowling’s much beloved books. Director David Yates is going for full-fledged opera here and so it seems almost criminal that he’s let his work be chopped in half. However, there’s still enough Potter movie magic to keep audiences coming back for more.
The movie concerns the first half of the novel on which it’s based. It begins with a now Voldemort-fearing magical world. Our heroes, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) have skipped out on their last year at Hogwarts, a school for wizardry and magic. Instead, they’re intent on finding and destroying the rest of the seven horcruxes that dark lord Voldemort (Ralph Feinnes), put his soul into.
Their quest is complicated by the Ministry of Magic, which has gone corrupt in wake of Dumbledore’s death. It soon becomes hard to distinguish which force is worse: the Ministry of Magic drones or Voldemort’s disciples, the Death Eaters.
The movie, which clocks in at an impressive 146 minutes, is perhaps too faithful to its source material and is slow at times. If some of Rowling’s novel was a tad tedious, we forgave it. She had earned the right to any material we found needless. For cinematic purposes, however, there’s no need to witness the camping segment of the plot in its entirety. The benefit of condensing the books into films was the need to edit for time and relevance. That’s not evident here.
That being said, “Harry Potter” is still an entertaining and exciting rollick. The special effects are big and bold, and the film doesn’t make them the focal point either. But one can’t help get lost in the dizzyingly, wonderfully realized chase scene that has not one, but a multitude of Potters making their way overhead London. The camerawork alternates between sweeping and intimate and the animated segment is unusual and gorgeous. The settings are also painstakingly realized. The black tiled, futuristic interiors of the Ministry of Magic dungeon are fascinating in their cold beauty.
It’s also comforting to see Yates trust his movie enough to get dark. Among the many of its scary pleasures, a run in with an old woman who might be the key to finding a horcrux is perhaps the most intense and the mostly absurdly exhilarating.
Acting has never been a concern of mine in Potter films, and there’s nothing here that should make this inclination any different. However, I did find myself beginning to miss the movie veterans that usually surround our young heroes. Alan Rickman is appropriately menacing but underutilized. Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall is not present whatsoever, which is something of a disappointment.
There’s some splendid moviemaking here, and the last image is strong enough to make you almost forget that you’re watching half of a film.
The movie concerns the first half of the novel on which it’s based. It begins with a now Voldemort-fearing magical world. Our heroes, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) have skipped out on their last year at Hogwarts, a school for wizardry and magic. Instead, they’re intent on finding and destroying the rest of the seven horcruxes that dark lord Voldemort (Ralph Feinnes), put his soul into.
Their quest is complicated by the Ministry of Magic, which has gone corrupt in wake of Dumbledore’s death. It soon becomes hard to distinguish which force is worse: the Ministry of Magic drones or Voldemort’s disciples, the Death Eaters.
The movie, which clocks in at an impressive 146 minutes, is perhaps too faithful to its source material and is slow at times. If some of Rowling’s novel was a tad tedious, we forgave it. She had earned the right to any material we found needless. For cinematic purposes, however, there’s no need to witness the camping segment of the plot in its entirety. The benefit of condensing the books into films was the need to edit for time and relevance. That’s not evident here.
That being said, “Harry Potter” is still an entertaining and exciting rollick. The special effects are big and bold, and the film doesn’t make them the focal point either. But one can’t help get lost in the dizzyingly, wonderfully realized chase scene that has not one, but a multitude of Potters making their way overhead London. The camerawork alternates between sweeping and intimate and the animated segment is unusual and gorgeous. The settings are also painstakingly realized. The black tiled, futuristic interiors of the Ministry of Magic dungeon are fascinating in their cold beauty.
It’s also comforting to see Yates trust his movie enough to get dark. Among the many of its scary pleasures, a run in with an old woman who might be the key to finding a horcrux is perhaps the most intense and the mostly absurdly exhilarating.
Acting has never been a concern of mine in Potter films, and there’s nothing here that should make this inclination any different. However, I did find myself beginning to miss the movie veterans that usually surround our young heroes. Alan Rickman is appropriately menacing but underutilized. Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall is not present whatsoever, which is something of a disappointment.
There’s some splendid moviemaking here, and the last image is strong enough to make you almost forget that you’re watching half of a film.
127 Hours
Danny Boyle’s latest, the sweeping, splendid “127 Hours,” is a grueling but rewarding exercise in arty grit. Boyle, a pop realist who seems committed to re-energizing movies, has made a movingly brutal film that makes “Slumdog Millionaire” look like “Bambi.”
Here, Boyle fully commits to the bleak beauty of his material. Even when his camera is peppering the story with a kind of manic artistry, Boyle keeps the movie grounded in the dark predicament of his protagonist.
The movie concerns the true story of Aron Ralston (James Franco), an American hiker and amateur daredevil who, in 2003, went hiking in Utah for some sporty solitude. While climbing, a boulder falls on his arm and traps him there. Ralston, shocked, is trapped there for five days (with a limited resource of food and water) before cutting off his right arm.
Don’t worry. I’m not spoiling anything. As you’ll see, Boyle’s film isn’t about what happens, but why. Ralston, confident but selfish, confronts his own demons while trapped, and they come in the form of family, friends and acquaintances he never gave much consideration to. The film, however, isn’t about punishment but redemption. Ralston needs to see how much his life is worth before finding the strength to take his own arm.
The film spends most of its time on Franco, who is up for the challenge. Franco is nothing short of wonderful, inhabiting Ralston’s terror and regret with a kind of naturalistic, un-showy poetry that gets right to the heart of “127 Hours.” The film isn’t much interested in other people, which is fine, in some ways, because the film isn’t about them but about their importance to Ralston.
Anthony Don Mantle’s cinematography is oddly beautiful and the most startling shots come when not focused on the Utah terrain. A flashback to a sort of winter rave party is so unusual and evocative, the film feels fleetingly sentimental.
Boyle’s direction is characteristically overloaded but his intensity is used to good effect, giving his film an immediate, unshakeable sense of urgency. Boyle goes down water tubes, sidles across landscapes, falls into blue waters alongside its characters. But he settles down, too, letting his scenes speak for themselves. One scene, in which Ralston tries to recapture a fallen knife, is low-key but almost unbearably suspenseful.
The scene in which Ralston cuts off his arm is unflinching and will be too intense for some to stomach. However, the film wouldn’t have had as much of an impact had it not portrayed the scene with such brutal honesty.
When the last act arrives, Ralston makes his way across the Utah terrain, and the film’s profound sense of liberation and existential anguish is given magical beauty by the band Sigur Ros, blaring on the soundtrack. Ralston, bloody and battered, finally understands the preciousness of life and his understanding is treated with awe-inspiring honesty. We’re left breathless in wake of his redemption, which, after 95 minutes, is hard-earned.
Here, Boyle fully commits to the bleak beauty of his material. Even when his camera is peppering the story with a kind of manic artistry, Boyle keeps the movie grounded in the dark predicament of his protagonist.
The movie concerns the true story of Aron Ralston (James Franco), an American hiker and amateur daredevil who, in 2003, went hiking in Utah for some sporty solitude. While climbing, a boulder falls on his arm and traps him there. Ralston, shocked, is trapped there for five days (with a limited resource of food and water) before cutting off his right arm.
Don’t worry. I’m not spoiling anything. As you’ll see, Boyle’s film isn’t about what happens, but why. Ralston, confident but selfish, confronts his own demons while trapped, and they come in the form of family, friends and acquaintances he never gave much consideration to. The film, however, isn’t about punishment but redemption. Ralston needs to see how much his life is worth before finding the strength to take his own arm.
The film spends most of its time on Franco, who is up for the challenge. Franco is nothing short of wonderful, inhabiting Ralston’s terror and regret with a kind of naturalistic, un-showy poetry that gets right to the heart of “127 Hours.” The film isn’t much interested in other people, which is fine, in some ways, because the film isn’t about them but about their importance to Ralston.
Anthony Don Mantle’s cinematography is oddly beautiful and the most startling shots come when not focused on the Utah terrain. A flashback to a sort of winter rave party is so unusual and evocative, the film feels fleetingly sentimental.
Boyle’s direction is characteristically overloaded but his intensity is used to good effect, giving his film an immediate, unshakeable sense of urgency. Boyle goes down water tubes, sidles across landscapes, falls into blue waters alongside its characters. But he settles down, too, letting his scenes speak for themselves. One scene, in which Ralston tries to recapture a fallen knife, is low-key but almost unbearably suspenseful.
The scene in which Ralston cuts off his arm is unflinching and will be too intense for some to stomach. However, the film wouldn’t have had as much of an impact had it not portrayed the scene with such brutal honesty.
When the last act arrives, Ralston makes his way across the Utah terrain, and the film’s profound sense of liberation and existential anguish is given magical beauty by the band Sigur Ros, blaring on the soundtrack. Ralston, bloody and battered, finally understands the preciousness of life and his understanding is treated with awe-inspiring honesty. We’re left breathless in wake of his redemption, which, after 95 minutes, is hard-earned.
Black Swan
Bold, unsettling, beautiful and disturbing, Darren Aronofsky's “Black Swan” leaves you stunned, beaten and breathless.
The film, a disorienting descent into the depths of hell, gets under your skin and refuses to leave. It's an exhilarating roller coaster ride, a dark character study, a feverish psychological thriller, all of them as engrossing as they are repellent. It reminds us of the enormous impact movies can have, their power to shock, delight, disturb and challenge. And the film also leaves you clinging to dear life, you're challenged to keep watching even as you want to turn away.
The film stars Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers, an obsessive, tightly-wound ballerina whose vying for the lead role in her company's latest rendition of “Swan Lake.”
The company's director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel) believes Nina to be perfect for the role of the white swan queen, her innocence and fragility perfectly suiting the tragic heroine. However, in Thomas' rendition of the much-celebrated ballet, the white and black swan queens are going to be performed by the same ballerina.
Nina's sexual repression and timidity are completely wrong for the part of the black swan queen, whose self-realized sexuality is far outside of Nina's comfort zone. Nina trains obsessively for the role, but her opportunity is also threatened by a sensual newcomer, Lily (Mila Kunis) whose unashamed sexuality would make her perfect for the role of the black swan queen. Nina, already coming undone by the pressures of her training, begins having gruesome visions, and her rivalry with Lily takes dark and unexpected turns.
There's so much happening in “Black Swan,” it would be impossible to get into all of it in one review. The film is about many things: repression, obsession and narcissism are just a few among many. It's not always subtle about its symbolism either; Aronofsky, who also directed the critically praised “The Wrestler,” takes his vision to the extreme.
Portman gives the best performance of her career and delves into a deeper and darker side of herself I didn't know she had. She captures Nina's repression and timidity with astonishing ease but she goes further, finding a kind of ugly obsession in Nina that's utterly devastating. This is the kind of transformation Oscar nominations were made for.
Kunis is slinky and sexy as Lily, and she gets some of the movie's most acidly humorous lines. Barbara Hershey also appears as Nina's domineering mother, but her character is given little complexity and Hershey becomes the monster looming in the back of the frame.
The score and cinematography are beautiful. Some of the visuals are stunning, including a scene in a nightclub in which pulsing strobe lights leave the viewer feeling dizzy with sensory overload.
By the time “Black Swan” revs up to its screeching finale, Aronofsky has taken his movie into such tricky, complicated territory, you have to give him credit for having so much confidence in his work. His confidence makes “Black Swan” an engrossing and unnerving thrill ride every step of the way.
The film, a disorienting descent into the depths of hell, gets under your skin and refuses to leave. It's an exhilarating roller coaster ride, a dark character study, a feverish psychological thriller, all of them as engrossing as they are repellent. It reminds us of the enormous impact movies can have, their power to shock, delight, disturb and challenge. And the film also leaves you clinging to dear life, you're challenged to keep watching even as you want to turn away.
The film stars Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers, an obsessive, tightly-wound ballerina whose vying for the lead role in her company's latest rendition of “Swan Lake.”
The company's director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel) believes Nina to be perfect for the role of the white swan queen, her innocence and fragility perfectly suiting the tragic heroine. However, in Thomas' rendition of the much-celebrated ballet, the white and black swan queens are going to be performed by the same ballerina.
Nina's sexual repression and timidity are completely wrong for the part of the black swan queen, whose self-realized sexuality is far outside of Nina's comfort zone. Nina trains obsessively for the role, but her opportunity is also threatened by a sensual newcomer, Lily (Mila Kunis) whose unashamed sexuality would make her perfect for the role of the black swan queen. Nina, already coming undone by the pressures of her training, begins having gruesome visions, and her rivalry with Lily takes dark and unexpected turns.
There's so much happening in “Black Swan,” it would be impossible to get into all of it in one review. The film is about many things: repression, obsession and narcissism are just a few among many. It's not always subtle about its symbolism either; Aronofsky, who also directed the critically praised “The Wrestler,” takes his vision to the extreme.
Portman gives the best performance of her career and delves into a deeper and darker side of herself I didn't know she had. She captures Nina's repression and timidity with astonishing ease but she goes further, finding a kind of ugly obsession in Nina that's utterly devastating. This is the kind of transformation Oscar nominations were made for.
Kunis is slinky and sexy as Lily, and she gets some of the movie's most acidly humorous lines. Barbara Hershey also appears as Nina's domineering mother, but her character is given little complexity and Hershey becomes the monster looming in the back of the frame.
The score and cinematography are beautiful. Some of the visuals are stunning, including a scene in a nightclub in which pulsing strobe lights leave the viewer feeling dizzy with sensory overload.
By the time “Black Swan” revs up to its screeching finale, Aronofsky has taken his movie into such tricky, complicated territory, you have to give him credit for having so much confidence in his work. His confidence makes “Black Swan” an engrossing and unnerving thrill ride every step of the way.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Inception
Seeing Leonardo DiCaprio, equipped with furrowed brow and an expression of typical puzzlement, you might think you were being forced to watch Shutter Island again. Good news. This film is Christopher Nolan’s Inception, a better, brainier film. Nolan, the man behind 2008’s The Dark Knight, tackles blockbuster with ambition. Is it possible to make a summer film entertaining and smart, he asks? The answer is yes.
The subject of the film is dreams and ideas. DiCaprio is Dominic Cobb, a suitably intense Extractor, someone who enters the dreams of others and steals their secrets. After a prolonged dream-within-a-dream sequence in which Cobb and his crew, Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levvit) and Nash (Lukas Haas), attempt to steal the secrets of Saito (Ken Wanatabe), the actual act of inception comes into play. Saito wants to plant an idea in the brain of his corporate rival’s son, Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), so the boy will destroy his father’s empire, thereby preventing a “worldwide energy monopoly.” As you might have guessed, there are some complications. Cobb must enlist the help of dream architect Ariadne (Ellen Page, as reliable as ever), to create an authentic dream world. They begin deliberation but outside forces threaten the operation’s success. Robert’s brain is programmed to fight the foreign presence. Cobb’s dead wife, who still exists in his own mind and who enters dreams alongside him, threatens to undermine their entire operation.
Nolan toys with the idea that the whole film may be a dream within a dream. This notion is amiable but underutilized. The script is clever and efficient, even if the film runs about 2 and ½ hours. For a film about ideas, however, the presence of Cobb’s wife (Marion Cotillard) feels surprisingly generic. It’s an interesting sub-plot without being a very refreshing one.
DiCaprio is given the thankless task of creating a character out of very little material. His performance essentially consists of some bereaved glances and his character pales in comparison to the personalities that surround him. Gordon-Levvit’s performance, on the other hand, is deliciously deadpan. He cracked a smile maybe once during the film.
The set pieces are, for the most part, wonderful. The highlight comes in the form of a zero gravity fight scene between Arthur and his opponents in a hotel hallway. It borrows some from The Matrix but is oddly more elegant.
The visuals are absolutely stunning and this is where Nolan whole-heartedly succeeds. He creates a world. The stark beauty of fluttering past old homes that Cobb and his wife lived in is surprising. Nolan does not merely rely on his special effects either. He uses them to grand effect, but never loses sight of the human story at heart.
Nolan may be such a successful writer/director because he uses blockbuster trappings to tell a story, rather than let expensive CGI dominate the film’s relevance (Avatar, anyone?). Inception may not be a perfect film, but at least it’s not mere cinematic lethargy.
The subject of the film is dreams and ideas. DiCaprio is Dominic Cobb, a suitably intense Extractor, someone who enters the dreams of others and steals their secrets. After a prolonged dream-within-a-dream sequence in which Cobb and his crew, Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levvit) and Nash (Lukas Haas), attempt to steal the secrets of Saito (Ken Wanatabe), the actual act of inception comes into play. Saito wants to plant an idea in the brain of his corporate rival’s son, Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), so the boy will destroy his father’s empire, thereby preventing a “worldwide energy monopoly.” As you might have guessed, there are some complications. Cobb must enlist the help of dream architect Ariadne (Ellen Page, as reliable as ever), to create an authentic dream world. They begin deliberation but outside forces threaten the operation’s success. Robert’s brain is programmed to fight the foreign presence. Cobb’s dead wife, who still exists in his own mind and who enters dreams alongside him, threatens to undermine their entire operation.
Nolan toys with the idea that the whole film may be a dream within a dream. This notion is amiable but underutilized. The script is clever and efficient, even if the film runs about 2 and ½ hours. For a film about ideas, however, the presence of Cobb’s wife (Marion Cotillard) feels surprisingly generic. It’s an interesting sub-plot without being a very refreshing one.
DiCaprio is given the thankless task of creating a character out of very little material. His performance essentially consists of some bereaved glances and his character pales in comparison to the personalities that surround him. Gordon-Levvit’s performance, on the other hand, is deliciously deadpan. He cracked a smile maybe once during the film.
The set pieces are, for the most part, wonderful. The highlight comes in the form of a zero gravity fight scene between Arthur and his opponents in a hotel hallway. It borrows some from The Matrix but is oddly more elegant.
The visuals are absolutely stunning and this is where Nolan whole-heartedly succeeds. He creates a world. The stark beauty of fluttering past old homes that Cobb and his wife lived in is surprising. Nolan does not merely rely on his special effects either. He uses them to grand effect, but never loses sight of the human story at heart.
Nolan may be such a successful writer/director because he uses blockbuster trappings to tell a story, rather than let expensive CGI dominate the film’s relevance (Avatar, anyone?). Inception may not be a perfect film, but at least it’s not mere cinematic lethargy.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Almost Famous
Don't let the presence of Kate Hudson discourage you from seeing Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe's beautiful and rewarding ode to music, growing up, and lost love. Hudson seems to be pivotal to misconceptions concerning this wonderful film, because, yes, we know, the films she's starred in as of late, well, suck. However, if you can believe it, Hudson is perhaps the brightest of Almost Famous's many stars. She's adorable, alluring, wispy, and yet with the capacity to completely break your heart. Kind of like the film itself.
The film centers on William (Patrick Fugit), a wonderfully unassuming rock n' roll afficianado who spends the length of the film trying to convince people he isn't so innocent. Nice try, Will. But the fact that he remains so is part of the film's point. He is younger than all the kids in his high school, over-protective mother Elaine (Francis McDormand) putting him in school two years ahead of schedule. William soon catches the attention of Rolling Stone magazine who is unaware that William is all but 15 years old. They want him to write of a Black Sabbath concert but he settles in with an aspring rock group, Stillwater, instead. The assignment is simple: get an interview with guitarist Russel (Billy Crudup). The journey is decidedly more challenging.
On the way he meets Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) a "band-aid" and not a groupie. She's confident, mysterious, and has a kind of youthful charm that he falls head over heels for. The scene in which the two attempt to share some honesty by saying their respective ages is hilarious, and gives insight into both of their characters. Anyway, Penny is in love with Russell, who is unavailable and has a girlfriend at home. They have an on-and-off relationship on the road, which comes to a stop when the tour stops. Penny, Russel, and William form a interesting little love triangle and it takes all of them a while to see that at least one of the others is using them to some end.
As the interview gets repeatedly postponed, the trip gets longer, Elaine becomes more and more worried and alone. William vows only to miss one test. Yeah, not so much.
The fact that love-smothering, hyper intellectual, drug-resisting Elaine would allow her son go on tour with a rock n' roll band is well, implausible. And the character of Elaine is very much a caricature, yet McDormand, a capable actress, infuses the character with enough genuine emotion to make Elaine seem authentic, even likable. Her "don't take drugs" shtick is funny, but her breakdown over the phone as she tries to tell William she loves him is unexpectedly affecting.
Fugit has enough boyish grace that we come to love him even if his character is little changed by the time the credits roll. Crudup is wonderful, bringing an ego-centric repulsiveness and yet earnest magnetism to Russell. The scene in which he calls up Penny Lane speaks volumes about his character, a very flawed person trying to be better than he possibly is. Phillip Seymour-Hoffman stars also, as Lester Bangs, a riotous rock critic who acts as the film's moral compass. As always, Hoffman is terrific and makes a small role seem bigger than it was probably ever intended. But the standout is Hudson, the wide-eyed seductress, creating an indelible character. Penny has an always-fun-no-hurt mentality that doesn't hold up against her love for Russell, she's a fragile heart that we can assume has had its fair share of pain. There is a scene on plane I will not give away that she so magnificently performs it's astounding. Who knew she could be this good?
The script is poignant and wistful, funny and sad. The dialogue is polished, while only occasionally being showy. It's well-written rather than well-rehearsed. There are some credibility issues, a scene in which a plane becomes a tell-all confessional is a little too convenient, but Almost Famous likes toying with realism and magical movie escapism. Not everything that happens will seem plausible, but boy will it touch you in some way.
Crowe's direction is wonderful, providing some nice touches like the creative opening credits which lend the film a sense of legacy. The credits feel recognizable. He frames the film with care but doesn't overstep his directorial boundary.
When all is said and done, there are so many moments to treasure in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous. Forget the spectacle of Titanic, the cloying sentimentality of Forrest Gump, or the preachy profoundness of Crash. Almost Famous is the real deal. It's what films were meant to be in the first place.
The film centers on William (Patrick Fugit), a wonderfully unassuming rock n' roll afficianado who spends the length of the film trying to convince people he isn't so innocent. Nice try, Will. But the fact that he remains so is part of the film's point. He is younger than all the kids in his high school, over-protective mother Elaine (Francis McDormand) putting him in school two years ahead of schedule. William soon catches the attention of Rolling Stone magazine who is unaware that William is all but 15 years old. They want him to write of a Black Sabbath concert but he settles in with an aspring rock group, Stillwater, instead. The assignment is simple: get an interview with guitarist Russel (Billy Crudup). The journey is decidedly more challenging.
On the way he meets Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) a "band-aid" and not a groupie. She's confident, mysterious, and has a kind of youthful charm that he falls head over heels for. The scene in which the two attempt to share some honesty by saying their respective ages is hilarious, and gives insight into both of their characters. Anyway, Penny is in love with Russell, who is unavailable and has a girlfriend at home. They have an on-and-off relationship on the road, which comes to a stop when the tour stops. Penny, Russel, and William form a interesting little love triangle and it takes all of them a while to see that at least one of the others is using them to some end.
As the interview gets repeatedly postponed, the trip gets longer, Elaine becomes more and more worried and alone. William vows only to miss one test. Yeah, not so much.
The fact that love-smothering, hyper intellectual, drug-resisting Elaine would allow her son go on tour with a rock n' roll band is well, implausible. And the character of Elaine is very much a caricature, yet McDormand, a capable actress, infuses the character with enough genuine emotion to make Elaine seem authentic, even likable. Her "don't take drugs" shtick is funny, but her breakdown over the phone as she tries to tell William she loves him is unexpectedly affecting.
Fugit has enough boyish grace that we come to love him even if his character is little changed by the time the credits roll. Crudup is wonderful, bringing an ego-centric repulsiveness and yet earnest magnetism to Russell. The scene in which he calls up Penny Lane speaks volumes about his character, a very flawed person trying to be better than he possibly is. Phillip Seymour-Hoffman stars also, as Lester Bangs, a riotous rock critic who acts as the film's moral compass. As always, Hoffman is terrific and makes a small role seem bigger than it was probably ever intended. But the standout is Hudson, the wide-eyed seductress, creating an indelible character. Penny has an always-fun-no-hurt mentality that doesn't hold up against her love for Russell, she's a fragile heart that we can assume has had its fair share of pain. There is a scene on plane I will not give away that she so magnificently performs it's astounding. Who knew she could be this good?
The script is poignant and wistful, funny and sad. The dialogue is polished, while only occasionally being showy. It's well-written rather than well-rehearsed. There are some credibility issues, a scene in which a plane becomes a tell-all confessional is a little too convenient, but Almost Famous likes toying with realism and magical movie escapism. Not everything that happens will seem plausible, but boy will it touch you in some way.
Crowe's direction is wonderful, providing some nice touches like the creative opening credits which lend the film a sense of legacy. The credits feel recognizable. He frames the film with care but doesn't overstep his directorial boundary.
When all is said and done, there are so many moments to treasure in Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous. Forget the spectacle of Titanic, the cloying sentimentality of Forrest Gump, or the preachy profoundness of Crash. Almost Famous is the real deal. It's what films were meant to be in the first place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)