To try to summarize this film in a short paragraph is futile. Telling overlapping stories of approximately nine major characters over the course of one day in Los Angeles, Magnolia is about sin, shame, emotion, connectedness, father-child relationships, and coincidence, all in the course of a short 188 minutes. Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (PTA) at the ripe old age of 28, a filmmaker whose films are now some of the most critically anticipated around, the film is rife with both youthful energy and wisdom that comes with long life. As the story moves from character to character, the camera lingers on the depth of raw emotion in each remarkably whole person. Then PTA pulls out the rug in a few incredible sequences that connect the people and the dots and show us how people are frequently the same – with similar longings and needs, and how the world is ultimately bigger than any of us imagine it is. It’s a great film, and it holds a special place in my heart because it happens to be the first film I saw that convinced me that film could be more than entertainment – crossing into the level of meaningful art. Not to mention that it has the only instance of a Tom Cruise performance I really like – now that is a feat!
Frank T.J. Mackey, a misogynist motivational speaker.
David’s Response:
Paul Thomas Anderson.
As with you, this film had a major impact on my development as a cinephile. There is something about Paul Thomas Anderson’s ambition that was and is exhilarating to me. Firstly, he had the audacity to make (and somehow convince his backers to pay over fifty million dollars for) a three-hour series of character studies that climax in meaningful, yet truly fantastic ambiguity. Secondly, and more importantly, his personal voice is so strong in his films that it not only demands you interact with it, but it makes it impossible to avoid. For a young, fledgling film lover, this voice in Magnolia was a revelation – it was just as thrilling to interact with the filmmaker’s voice than the story he had presented. Not to say that Magnolia’s story is weak, for it is anything but. Rather, what this film does, as so many great films do, is seamlessly inject commentary on its happenings through the language of movies, both adding additional layers to its themes and reminding us of the real minds and ideas behind its creation. More than anything, Magnolia reminds us that the most exciting portions of the film world are the quarters of production held under nothing but the sovereignty of skilled artists, where there are no laws by which filmmakers must apply. Luckily for us all, Paul Thomas Anderson resides in these quarters and has both the talent and vision to create lasting and transcendent cinema.
Chelsea's Note: Paul Thomas Anderson has also directed: There Will Be Blood, The Master, Boogie Nights, Hard Eight, and Punch-Drunk Love. I anticipate his films more than any others, and I believe he is my favorite filmmaker working today. I would highly recommend any of his films, but with caution: most of them contain a lot of adult content, specifically in Boogie Nights and The Master.
J.J. Abrams has now all but solidified himself as the next Steven
Spielberg. With this film, the first Star Trek reboot, and Super 8 (not to mention the upcoming Star Wars films), he is one of the most
exciting and trusted blockbuster directors working in Hollywood. Star
Trek Into Darkness continues the positive trend. Carefully crafted, and boasting a strong
attention to detail, it is an extremely fun ride. It had good overall performances, a very
interesting villain, and it was impeccably paced to maximize tension.
Abrams can certainly stage an action sequence, especially a disaster,
like no one else, and there were quite a few scenes in Star Trek that reached a very high level of suspense. However, with this said, it simply didn’t
have the thematic weight to warrant a glowing recommendation. It relied too heavily on past knowledge of
the franchise (even back many years) to build investment in its
characters. It also was a bit overkill,
piling one battle or action sequence on another. I would have enjoyed just a little breathing
room, maybe some tension built out of something other than another
death-defying barrage. However, as this is a summer blockbuster, it is hard to
expect much depth, and as a popcorn flick, it more than hits its marks.
A very strong *** out of ****
David:
I find it impressive what
Abrams has done for Star Trek, now
having crafted two thrilling adventure films from the shell of a franchise that
had previously built a large fan base employing more cerebral plotting. Until Abrams, Star Trek stories drew mainly from political intrigue, webs of
interpersonal clashes, and the curiosities of strange new worlds. Yes, the original Star Trek series was campy, but even so, it thrived on the basis of
cultural and political conflict (along with a healthy dose of melodrama). Comparatively, with his additions to the
franchise, Abrams has succeeded in creating something fresh, simplifying the
formula into something more crowd-pleasing while simultaneously paying respect
to the brand’s roots in utilizing the political conflict inherent to the Star Trek universe.
A perilous situation.
This isn’t to say the films are dumbed-down, but rather that much of the
intellectual fat has been trimmed. While
this film has its fair share of twists and turns, its central conflict remains
mostly uncomplicated, pulling from basic themes of revenge and political
corruption. The plot may be intricate,
but the motivations driving the plot are not, and with more simple conflicts,
there is more time for well-staged action sequences and perilous situations –
which are Abrams’s sweet spot. This man
was built to make blockbuster films and knows how to use all the tricks at his
disposal (including the ever trusty countdown-to-exploding-device) to
efficiently create suspense. There is
nothing new here, really, but with Abrams’s skills, it is nonetheless
exhilarating. It is top-notch formula
filmmaking, and while some of it seems overly contrived, it is an impressively
slick and eminently exciting ride.
A weak ***½ out of ****
Chelsea:
I agree that it is quite impressive what Abrams has done with the
franchise. It is fresh, and
crowd-pleasing without ever being dumb, even if the “intellectual fat” has been
removed. I am very close to a 3 ½ star
rating as well – it was really was very entertaining and extremely thrilling. I thought Benedict Cumberbatch was ever so
fun and thrilling as the film’s villain, John Harris. What did you think of him?
David:
Good old Benedict.
In his scenes, Cumberbatch
commanded the screen. I found myself
wanting to see more of him, as the brooding charisma of his performance was
both electric and frightening. I found
myself thinking of Die Hard’s Hans
Gruber, probably because Cumberbatch’s voice benefits from the same timbre as
Alan Rickman. Yet, unlike Die Hard’s iconic villain, Cumberbatch’s
Harris is always coolly in control of his plans, demonstrating a superior
cleverness over his adversaries. In
fact, when he is ultimately vanquished (not really a spoiler – c’mon, did you
really think the bad guy would win?), it takes some suspension of disbelief just
to accept that he is outduelled. Yet, as
the film is filled to the brim with the highly unlikely,
barely-made-it-out-alive hijinks that define American blockbusters, I was
mostly comfortable accepting this suspension of disbelief as well.
Without giving too much away, I
also appreciated the way the film handled this character generally. As a viewer, we spend much of our time
assessing his motivations and cannot make a true judgment until far into the
plot. This was refreshing and a nicely
compelling move, as most blockbusters simply present a power-hungry baddy at
the beginning and move on from there.
Throughout the film, there was
a lot of angst built between characters – between Scotty and Kirk, Kirk and
Spock, Spock and Uhura, and more. What
did you think of this? Did it help the
story or weigh it down? Did you think
these conflicts given enough attention to be credible?
Chelsea:
I love your comparison of the
voice of Cumberbatch with Rickman – it is a very nice parallel. As far as angst and tensions go, I felt as
though some of the relationships and their ensuing spats were more believable
than others. Although I identified with
the baseline frustration in the relationship with Uhura and Spock, it isn’t a
particularly fleshed out relationship, so the scenes were a bit forced. I thought the tension between Kirk and Spock
was better, and I don’t yet have an opinion on the one between Scotty and
Kirk. Simon Pegg can sell anything with
a deft comic touch, but the question is was his reaction to the missiles true
to his character in this or the last film?
I guess I’m not sure, and I don’t know that we know Scotty well enough
and this point to make that judgment.
What did you think?
David:
Ah, the bromance.
You hit on a big consideration
for this film – as with many sequels, it relies heavily on character
development done in previous installments.
While the attention given to the Kirk-Spock tiff made it believable due
to its central role in the plotting, I also found myself a little lost with the
Spock-Uhura conflict, even if it was rather simple when you break it down. It had honestly been too long since I had
seen the first installment to remember they had a relationship, let along be
invested in its survival. Likewise with
Scotty – while I bought his administrative quarrel with Kirk, it was hard to
say if his actions were fitting. This
all raises an interesting question – if a film assumes prior viewer knowledge,
does the film lose value? I would say
no, especially if the film is a sequel, but it does make the job of a critic a
bit more difficult.
Chelsea:
I would agree that a film
doesn’t automatically lose value if it relies on prior viewer knowledge. However, I think the issue with this film was
that it was so concerned with the zip, bang aspects of the production that it
just left everything else by the wayside, including any character development
that both (a) didn’t happen in the previous film (b) needed to happen for the
tension to fully work in this film. Now
again, I thought it was great fun, there just wasn’t much in the way of actual
nuance. Additionally, it broached some
very interesting subjects (specifically war profiteering) that were later
dropped and not fully realized in favor of more (admittedly very cool) action
sequences.
David:
I can hear the fanboys now –
“But we already know these characters!”
And indeed, they would be right – they have a whole television series
logged into their memory. Not being a
trekker myself, it is hard to know how much the film relied on or played off
the years of character work from the iconic show. Yet, while this could account for some of the
glossed over character portrayals, I nevertheless agree that since its story
stems from character flaws, it could have been more compelling with a greater
exploration of these flaws. Instead, we
are given archetypes, and while this serves well enough to provide motivations
for its plotting, it is not as impactful as it could be.
Red shirts next to a villain - uh oh...
You could also say the same
thing for the political themes it mostly dropped in favor of action – as with
the character flaws, these themes are presented mainly as a jumping point to
battles and thrills, rather than being the focus of the film. Since these themes, though they were
simplified, are far more interesting than your standard bad guy vs. good guy
setups, I found the film as a whole more interesting than standard action
fare. Yes, it could have been more
meaningful by exploring character psyches and political philosophy, but as a
summer blockbuster, that was clearly not its intent, and it is hard to fault it
for prioritizing excitement over thematic depth – especially when it so
skillfully excites.
It was bound to happen. For the first of three
instances, there is a movie on my personal top ten that is also at a higher
point in Chelsea’s top ten. Perhaps we take this two-become-one thing a
bit too seriously, because our tastes have seemed to, in some ways, meld
together after nearly five years of cinematic adventures enjoyed in marital
bliss. I’m still waiting for that fated day in which we adamantly
disagree about a film – mainly because it would be a fun thing for our readers
to experience. Alas, today is not that day, and my love for my eighth
favorite film of all-time is a love I share with my wife.
So instead, I will provide clues to what this mutually loved
film is. The first to figure it out gets a hearty handshake and a healthy
share of respect. Here are your five clues! (C’mon modern peoples,
try to figure it out without the help of web searches!)
Clue #1: The film’s lead character shares a last name with
an infamous judge whose ruling upheld, at the time, the constitutionality of
racial segregation. (And you thought this would be easy – ha!) Answer: State of Louisiana Supreme Court Judge John Ferguson of the infamous Plessy v. Ferguson (1896) case shares the name with the protagonist John 'Scottie' Ferguson.
Clue #2: 1964's Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte shares a strikingly similar plot to a (wonderful) 1955 French film based on a book by the same author as this film’s
source material. Answer: The French film is Diaboliques (Highly Recommended!) and the authors are Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac who also wrote D'Entre Les Morts, the novel upon which Vertigo is based.
Clue #3: A pivotal scene of the film takes place in a wooded area near the site of golfer Tom Kite’s only U.S. Open victory. Answer: Tom Kite won the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, and the nearby location is Cypress Point.
Clue #4: Was the last collaboration of the filmmaker and the
lead actor, as the filmmaker lamented after initial lukewarm reviews that the
star was now simply “looking too old.” Answer: Alfred Hitchcock said this of Jimmy Stewart.
Clue #5: The film’s iconic score is inspired heavily by
Richard Wagner’s “Tristan and Isolde.” Answer: The film was scored by Bernard Herrmann.
Baz Luhrmann could make one heck of a music video. The frenetic pace of his storyboards would
fit quite well with the broad, simple themes of high-energy pop music. They do not fare as well with culturally
significant, nuanced pieces of literature.
While there are moments of The Great Gatsby in which Luhrmann captures
the energy and awe needed to build up the mystery at the story’s center, the
film is marked by a persistently harried aesthetic throughout. As a result, scenes that require any delicacy
feel sloppy and rushed. It is as if
Luhrmann was bored with his characters and their story and needed to distract
himself by spicing up their troubles with visual flair. Rather than paying justice to the emotional
weight present in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic tale, Luhrmann tells this tale
in broad strokes and primary colors, with the forcefulness of an ADHD teenager
impatiently tapping his toe and fast-forwarding to see what happens next.
Yet, for two main reasons, the film is not a total loss and succeeds
mildly even with Luhrmann’s misguided direction. The first reason is that,
while the script lacked subtlety, many of the film’s performances did not. Cary Mulligan and Joel Edgerton give strong,
engaging performances in broadly emotional roles, and DiCaprio gives the film’s
titular character surprising nuance and believability. For the sake of showing some grace, I want to
say this could be attributed to Luhrmann’s direction, but the stilted
performance of Tobey Maguire as the film’s meek narrator makes me think
otherwise. It is hard to imagine any
director could coax such great performances from most of his cast and allow one
character to be so lacking in definition.
It is far more likely that this is simply a case of some great actors
doing impressive work on their own accord.
The second, and more primary reason the film finds some success has
already been mentioned – the inherent power of Fitzgerald’s story. It is undeniable that, despite having to
fight through (and against) the many glaring distractions of Luhrmann’s style,
you simply want to learn more about the figure of Gatsby and see what happens
next. In short, it may not be a remotely
suitable telling of this story, but the story is compelling enough to be
interesting anyway.
A weak **½ out of ****
Chelsea:
Luhrmann, the man behind the films Moulin Rouge and Romeo + Juliet,
clearly was not a good fit for this story.
He has a very interesting and wholly unique approach, and with the right
source material, I think he could sing (you could argue that Moulin Rouge was
the right source material for his spectacular style). Although I did not (and do not) find his
frantic pace completely horrible or distracting, to me, it just felt a bit off. He clearly reaches to try to engage an over
stimulated and desensitized modern audience with a barrage of images and
contemporary pop music, but to me, the style was utterly disengaging. Never boring, but just never well connected
to its source.
I feel like I'm in fifth grade again.
There were some things that worked very well, namely the top-notch
performances, which anchored the film - especially from a perfect Carey
Mulligan and excellent Leonardo DiCaprio, who managed to be intensely obsessed
and utterly disarming at the same time.
As far as Tobey Maguire goes, I thought he gave a very good performance;
it was the character development as written that was problematic. He did the very best he could with the uneven
script he was given. In addition, the
set design was whimsical and fun and I mostly really liked it. I would have liked to have been more immersed
in the music of the film, and I thought that the contemporary soundtrack
frequently worked. I think, generally,
Luhrmann has a good sense for how to use music in film, further evidenced by
his previous works. All in all however,
it simply didn’t come together and didn’t find a center.
** ½ out of ****
David:
You hit on two points I would
like to address – one in repentance and one push-back. The first is the performance of Maguire as
the film’s narrator. I must admit that
my own postulations are probably due to the fact that I have rarely enjoyed
Luhrmann’s work in the past. As such, I
was probably a bit unfair in saying the weaknesses of Maguire’s performance could
be attributed to Luhrmann’s direction.
After all, you make a very good point in pointing out that his character
was not given much focus from Luhrmann and Craig Pearce’s script. It seems that, throughout the film, Luhrmann
simply gave priority to the other roles.
The film seemed to be so preoccupied with its central romantic conflict
that it barely gave more than a glance in the narrator’s direction and his own
struggles. This is, after all, one of
the reasons the book has been called unadaptable – its narrator is not an
active participant in the large bulk of its plot, but he is nevertheless the
all-important moral center of the story.
The second point was the use of
contemporary music in the film. I would
like to hear why you liked this aspect of the film. I found it to be somewhat out of place. While I understand and appreciate Luhrmann’s
intention to modernize the story, using rap music in a 1920s setting was
jarring, especially since these musical interludes were not consistent,
unevenly crashing into the otherwise period soundtrack. I would have liked to see him either go all
out and use all contemporary music or not use it at all. Using both period and contemporary music was
distracting.
Chelsea:
It’s interesting how our
previous thoughts of a director’s body of work color our viewing of current
films – in this case, your view of Maguire’s performance. I’m glad you came around. ;)
Dancing...to music!
As far as music goes, I feel
like his intent was frequently to parallel the 1920s to today or at least more
recent times. I thought that he was very
interested in showing us how “nothing changes under the sun.” In this way, I thought it worked in many
places. And I felt as though including
1920s music set it apart, so it lived in this interesting place – both modern
and in period. I kind of liked it.
In your great dislike for
Luhrmann, what do you think he could do well?
Would other directors be better suited to this material? Who? I
don’t know that someone like Paul Thomas Anderson could have adapted this
particularly well either, and I think he’s one of the greatest directors
working today.
David:
I like your thought about the
contemporary music in the film – that it being in the film would be a comment
on how society ultimately has not changed.
I also like the thought that the film creates a unique space – not quite
the 1920s, but most certainly not today.
This was, I admit, an interesting place to dwell as a viewer. Yet, I still feel the film’s music was more a
distraction from its larger romantic themes.
Sometimes what works in theory simply doesn’t translate well on screen.
Your final question brings up a
good point as well – it is not that Luhrmann is a bad director: he just many
times chooses the wrong material. There
are only a handful of rare directors in film history that could handle a wide
range of genres and themes well (Billy Wilder and Howard Hawks come to mind), but that doesn’t
mean everyone else is a bad filmmaker.
Perhaps one part of being a great filmmaker is knowing what projects to
choose. In the case of Luhrmann, I would
argue his style works best with broad themes and characters fit into campy
pulp. His early success, Strictly
Ballroom, would fall into this category, and I thought it was a far more cohesive
film than his work since.
Chelsea:
I also enjoyed Strictly
Ballroom, and I would argue that Moulin Rouge has that same kind of broad pulpy
camp, and I thought it worked very well for Luhrmann.
One of the most noticeable
elements of the film is the visual style as well as the set design – both of
which are of great spectacle. The film
looks very cool – lots of glitz and glamour that is large and over the
top. Generally, this isn’t something I
mind. However, it just didn’t fit very
well with the story and was mostly distracting.
I kind of understand why it was the way it was, but I just don’t think
it worked, and I thought, especially, that the feverish pace of the editing and
the camera movement distracted from the story.
David:
Some will certainly walk out of
the theater and say, “Wow, that had some really cool visuals!” Yet, It is interesting that something so
dynamic could be a detriment to the film’s thematic and emotional core. I compare the spectacle of this film to a
really great musical score in an otherwise bad movie – that specific aspect of
the film might be impressive as a stand-alone work, but if it doesn’t
compliment the rest of the material, it is better to listen to it at home apart
from the film.
Chelsea:
Truly, had Lurhmann just toned down the
spectacle and used his signature visual panache in just a few more dramatic or
more exciting scenes (like just the extravagant party scenes or something along
those lines), I feel like the film could have worked well. Coupled with a more relatable and consistent
Nick Carraway, the moral center, the film could have been quite good. Alas.
“Forget
it Jake, it’s Chinatown.” These are the legendary words that end this unforgettable 1974 film by Roman Polanski. Chinatown
embodies a place where people go to do things they don’t want other people to
see. Investigating a woman’s claim that her husband is cheating,
Detective Jake Gittes stumbles upon another, more insidious crime. As he
digs deeper, he becomes increasingly tangled in a web of lies, corruption,
greed, and shameful family secrets. In one of the best performances of
all time, Jack Nicholson embodies a detective who is worn, world-weary, a
little frightening, and yet somehow still mostly good and frequently funny.
Playing
with and beautifully utilizing the conventions of the noir genre, Polanski
perfectly captures the dread and hopelessness of this world and what happens
when people have unquenchable thirsts. Although the story is more typical
crime-thriller fare, because of the fantastic screenplay, excellent direction,
and great lead performances, Chinatown works as something much
deeper. It’s a dark, bleak look at the heart of corruption and evil, with
a finale that both frustrates and amazes, simply because it takes guts to put
something that hopeless on screen. It’s way over-the-top and
frighteningly honest at the same time, and I absolutely love it. David's Response:
The infamous John Huston and Jack Nicholson
First
of all, I must say I feel truly blessed to have a wife that loves a movie because
of its bleakness – the most impactful art is rarely a walk in the park. Chinatown
is, indeed, a truly bleak look into the world of high-level
(and low-down) crime, and as with any great film with serious subject matter,
it leaves you with a deep sense of unease. In this case, the film’s final
scene works like a sucker punch and left me wanting to crawl into a corner and
cry as I nursed my nausea. Yes, it really is that powerful.
Polanski
understood the impulses of the noir genre well enough to play with our
ingrained expectations. He turns tropes on their head several times,
always keeping viewers on their toes. From femme fatales, to red
herrings, to bumbling detectives, all the tropes are there, but nothing is what
it seems. As the story unfolds, and more sordid details are revealed, we
join Jake Gittes both in disorientation, curiosity, and fear. Akin to
many more effective horror films, it is a gripping fight-or-flight experience,
and one that no true film lover should miss.
By the time an action film franchise hits its third film, viewers
have a built-in history with its characters and world. It is not the duty
of any movie boasting a title that ends with the number three to be anything
but an invitation to spend time with some old friends, see some new stunts, and
of course, boo and hiss at some newly concocted villains. As such, I will
assume anyone interested in reading this review has not only seen earlier
episodes of the franchise, but enjoyed them enough to be interested in a third
go-round. For you Tony Stark lovers out there, have no fear – though this
film presents truly little in the way of plot, it presents more than enough
spectacle and humor to be a worthy popcorn-munching flick. The film’s
lack of innovation or thematic weight make it easily forgettable, but it
nonetheless is a brisk adventure and provides another dose of the cheap thrills
and wit fans of the franchise have come to love.
As with most summer blockbusters, this is undeniably a minor
affair, relying largely on CGI-laden set pieces, well-timed quips, angsty
glares, and harrowing scenarios. As a result, the majority of its
half-hearted attempts to build emotional ties to its plotting fall flat, as
they are simply used to provide excuses for the next battle. These
battles are fun, but not necessarily gripping, as we are not invested in the
characters enough to hold our thumbs at their apparent demise, and the central
villain is too broadly drawn to be spurned. Yet, as with the first film
of the franchise, it is the charisma of Downey’s Tony Stark that carries the
film, and while it is a much more vapid experience than our introduction to the
character five years ago, it provides enough variety in its action and plot
twists to be eminently watchable. (Including one sillier plot twist that
is altogether unexpected and thoroughly entertaining.) You may not
remember Iron Man 3 for long after the viewing, but as you watch, you
will find yourself smiling.
*** out of
****
Chelsea:
The Avengers
One of the most remarkable things about Iron Man 3 is the way it
incorporates many of the elements from the past two films and especially The
Avengers. Although there is not real carryover plot-wise; there is a
lot of acknowledgement regarding Stark’s past adventures and how they have
affected him now. If nothing else, the people behind these Marvel films
will be remembered for building a world and a franchise that is absolutely gigantic.
It will be extremely hard to imitate.
And it’s fun. Contrasted to Nolan’s Batman franchise, which is
wonderfully dark, gripping, and serious, this movie is sugar-coated candy
pop. And you’re right, a lot of this has to do with Robert Downey, Jr.
who plays this character to an absolute tee, managing to inject humor and
timely one-liners into every situation he is in. He’s been perfectly
cast, and he’s quite good in both the big and small moments. The pacing
is effective, and there is plenty of exciting action to be had. I enjoyed
it, yes, and I smiled quite a bit. And, of course, it is light years
better than Iron Man 2.
*** out of
****
David:
One has to wonder what the lasting impact of the Marvel universe
will be. These films are intentionally difficult to understand without
having experienced them as a whole. For example, there are many
references to the events of The Avengers in Iron Man 3, and
without a frame of reference, some of the plot points would not make as much
sense. In this way, Marvel tells stories much more similarly to
television, in that you must “catch up” and see the last episode before moving
forward. It is, if nothing else, a brilliant marketing move that will
sell many movie rentals. (It is also why we see so many sequels to begin
with – people have an innate compulsion to see what happens next.) This
may cheapen the experience, as it guarantees some level of formality in
plotting, but in the case of Marvel, it also allows for the creation of a much
deeper world than one film, or even one franchise, could allot. In this
way, Marvel’s films have preserved much of what makes Marvel comics popular.
Perhaps we can learn something from comparing this film to Iron Man 2,
which I also found to be a trying experience. Weirdly enough, I found
that film to be weighed down by too much plotting and subtext. Its
attempts to crescendo into a final battle felt drawn out. Conversely, Iron
Man 3 presents a very simple conflict at its center and fills its plot to
the brim with twists and turns. In this way, the film subverts its
thematic hollowness and avoids being boring simply by presenting viewers with
enough shiny things to look at. When a film’s characters are broadly
drawn, there must be enough spectacle to pick up the slack, and unlike the
weaker aspects of its predecessor, Iron Man 3 doesn’t try to be anything
but a thrill-ride, and it is a more enjoyable film as a result.
Chelsea:
It is exactly like you said – long-form storytelling that has become quite
commonplace in this modern age of television, but is mostly unexpected when it
comes to film. And I kind of love it, regardless of if it was simply a
marketing ploy. Iron Man 3 was basically a return to form for Tony
Stark after the heavy, kind of boring Iron Man 2. Since the film
is essentially a long string of action sequences, I must ask: which was your
favorite?
David:
Pretty BA.
That has to be the almost entirely superfluous skydiving stunt. There is
no reason for this scene to take up the time it does in the film, yet it is
such a ridiculous setup that it manages to subtly mock the superhero genre
while also maintaining a high level of excitement. Great stuff. How
about you – what was your favorite?
Chelsea:
I think that was probably my favorite stunt too – not only was creative and
exciting, but it also didn’t rely as heavily on CGI as other
sequences. Of course, there were a lot of really great set pieces in this
movie, and one of my other favorites was near the start – the attack on the
Stark home. Also great is Ben Kingsley’s
villain, The Mandarin. I had more fun
watching him than I have had with almost any super hero villain in recent
years. I think he’s my favorite
superhero villain since Heath Ledger’s Joker. Did you love this character as
much as I did?
David:
Really BA.
Kingsley’s Mandarin was worth the price of admission alone – but to explain why
would ruin the fun for anyone who hasn’t seen the film, no? In short, he
presented a nice diversion from your standard villain in the most unexpected of
ways. One of the best things about the Marvel films are that none take
themselves too seriously, and this is a great example of that. For this
and many other reasons, this is worthy mindless entertainment to begin your
summer.
When exploring film history, you
run into a large assortment of anti-war films - none are more devastating and
masterfully argued than Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory. On reflection,
it is odd that Kubrick, cinema's greatest tactical ideologue, could make such a
movingly humanistic film as this. Yet, perhaps it was his cerebral
approach to cinema that gives this film so much power. The story is,
after all, inherently human, and unlike his other films, the ideas he presents
have widespread societal implications. So many anti-war films will appeal
to emotion and burn down straw-men, but the reserve Kubrick shows with this
film allows the atrocities he presents to be both comprehensible and shocking
in their baseness. The story pleads for melodrama, but Kubrick does not allow
it any, making its tragic elements not simply heartbreaking, but nauseating in
their injustice. It is easy to forget a simple argument against pride or
bigotry - we all agree those attributes are detestable. It is much harder
to dismiss a film that builds emotional ties to its characters while presenting
systematic problems with our political systems, arguing succinctly that there
is no easy way out.
There is so much more to say about
this film - from the terrifying thrills of its tracking shots through the
trenches of World War I, to its unflinching documentation of war's political
tragedies, to the film's deeply moving and sobering finale, which provides a
perfect call to action. As few war films do, not just the brutality of
its action, but its arguments stick with you long after viewing.
Chelsea's Response:
Kirk Douglas in his finest role.
I have to admit that I don’t care much
for Kubrick. I find him all brains and no heart, and I find that his
films have no emotional center. He generally uses his characters as pawns
to make some grand philosophical argument that is cold and detached. So
when I first saw Paths of Glory, I approached it with much trepidation,
assuming that it would be like other Kubrick films I have seen. However,
I was more than pleasantly surprised with how human Paths of Glory
is. I immediately latched onto it as Kubrick told a war story about
institutions by examining some events in the lives of a handful of
common soldiers. Featuring great work by Kirk Douglas as a Colonel caught
between following orders and saving lives, it immediately became my favorite
Kubrick film, and to this day one of the very few, along with The Shining, that I really like (although, of
course, I can see the skill in his other work). It is a
fantastic picture – my favorite Kubrick and probably my favorite war film of
all time, and I’m delighted you have included it here.
The
South: not the picturesque coastal town of Charleston, nor the exciting, sinful
city of New Orleans, but the middle of landlocked Arkansas. The director of Mud, Jeff Nichols, grew up in Arkansas, and his familiarity with
the setting makes it feel about as real and honest as it could. It’s not told in caricatures of poor hicks,
but with the sun shining through the trees onto mostly dirty rivers with very
real people living on them. Ellis and
Neckbone are two middle-school aged boys who meet a charming, but also
disconnected man on an island near their hometown of DeWitt, Arkansas. He goes simply by “Mud,” and Mud needs help,
as he is a man on the run. The boys
embark on adventures, taking unwanted things from around their neighborhood in
order to help Mud escape and sail away with his one true love. All the while, the boys deal with their own
relationships at home, both familial and romantic.
The most
simple and least ambitious of the four films we have reviewed thus far, Mud is
nonetheless a lovely and interesting film.
Continuing his hot streak, Matthew McConaughey (in the title role) is
intense, gentle, and a little bit scary, but also loyal and good hearted. Nichols also manages to get very good
performances out of his child actors, specifically the boy who plays Ellis (Tye
Sheridan). Nichols struggles, ever so
slightly, in creating a lasting and building tension that would have created a
better climax. In addition, his villains
are a bit on the cartoonish side, and he fails to give them the depth the
others receive. All the while, however,
Nichols manages to pull something ever so human and real from his characters,
highlighting themes of lasting love, marriage, and father-son relationships.
A strong *** out of ****
David:
Ellis, Mud, Neckbone
At
its best moments, Mud plays like a
modern fairytale, filled with the mystery and suspense of youthful
curiosity. These moments are impressive
in that they create the kind of tense wonder found in only the best stories
about children coming face-to-face with danger (think of the more serious
moments of Stand by Me). The film pulls from these moments to draw out
its major themes of naivety and misplaced hope, but it only truly succeeds when
it maintains an air of intrigue.
Unfortunately, the mystery is lost as the film moves to reveal more and
more of its details, and it ultimately ends up relying on heavily worn,
all-too-familiar suspense devices. This
is not to say the film degrades into a completely worthless affair, as its
characters are well drawn enough to build an emotional investment in their
troubles, but it is to say that it is a disappointment – something that begins
with great aplomb ends with an unsure dependence on the generic.
What
worked best was the fascinating figure of Mud - this character’s macho
self-assurance creates a cool magnetism that is always compelling. While it is clear that this man is hiding
something, his tender hubris is undeniably captivating. For this reason, it makes sense that the
young boys in the film latch on to him despite their better judgment – he
represents a sense of stability in the midst of their otherwise uncertain home
lives. However, it must be said that
while this aspect of the film works well, it could have been better, as we are
only given cursory glances into the family dysfunctions that so affect the
impulses and motivations of both Ellis and Neckbone. While these glances serve as a sufficient
base on which to build themes, it is hard to think these themes couldn’t have
had more emotional resonance had the film provided more explanation. There is much to like here, and the film is
beautifully shot and effectively paced, but there are too many missteps in the
script to give a wholehearted recommendation.
A weak *** out of ****
Chelsea:
Tom and Ellis
What I thought worked well
about the cursory glimpses into family conflict was that, even though they were
cursory, they did not rely on any tropes or easy conventions. The parents do truly seem to love their son
very much, even though they clearly have some marital problems. And even though Ellis’s father is outwardly
scary, his intimidating façade is frequently pulled back to reveal someone
hurting, loving, and human. I liked this
quite a bit. Similarly Neckbone’s uncle,
while being outwardly goofy, a horndog, and a bit careless, is revealed to care
very much for his nephew, even though he has a hard time showing it. I thought the film showcased very well how
complex father-son or surrogate father-son relationships can be. Nichols very gently shows us these
relationships – peeking into peoples’ lives.
The only one I would have really liked to see more of was the
relationship between Mud and Tom, which was left slightly underdeveloped,
probably out of necessity because of the actual physical limitations of getting
the two in the same space.
David:
You are right to point out that
these father-son dynamics are executed well.
Indeed, when they are there presented, they are delivered with honesty
and care. Yet, I still feel the film
could have benefitted from more time spent with these interactions, as they
ended up feeling more like plot reminders than integral parts of the
characters’ lives. As you pointed out,
this is seen most clearly in the relationship between Mud and Tom, but it is
true of all the family relationships in the film. Nichols should have taken time away from his
broadly drawn villains to give more time to these relationships, as the baddies
were almost completely unnecessary – villains with no names (or local cops)
could have been far more foreboding.
There was another element of
the film that also felt a bit forced – Ellis’s romantic exploits with an older
high school acquaintance. I thought
these parts felt like tacked-on efforts to help build the themes rather than
flowing naturally from the story. It all
seemed a bit too convenient that he would have these experiences at the same
moment he is seeing his parents experience relational turmoil. What did you think of these scenes?
Chelsea:
I did not find those scenes
forced. In fact, I kind of like how it
was all happening at once. It showed who
Ellis was as a whole person, not just as related to the central conflict. I think, if anything, it makes sense that
Ellis would look for that kind of relationship as his parents were experiencing
turmoil. He clearly thought his parents
were making a big mistake, and this may have been his way of acting out – proving
that he could do it better than they.
Yes, it was naïve, but I kind of liked that it put a period on that
idea.
David:
You bring up some good points about
the Ellis’s dating subplot, especially that it helps to define him as a
character in a more complete sense. In
concept, the subplot serves the film well.
In reality, I still felt these scenes to be a bit contrived.
Chelsea:
What did you think of the
Juniper character? Although not
particularly well developed as we didn’t get much time with her, I really loved
the scene where she takes care of Ellis as he has just been hit by one of the
baddies.
David:
I
actually really liked the Juniper character, and found Reese Witherspoon’s
performance to be effectively reserved.
I appreciated that the film kept us at a distance from this character,
and her own meekness helped to shed light on some tragic flaws we may not have
otherwise seen in Mud. She is the great
hope for Mud, and her beauty serves to melt Ellis’s heart in no time, so I
found it affecting that she was eventually revealed to be such a mess.
Reese Witherspoon as Juniper
There is one last thing I would
like to discuss – the film’s idealism, or lack thereof. I found it interesting that both Ellis and
Mud are shown to be grasping onto the hope that love will conquer all, only to
be let down by reality. I found this
misplaced hope to be a major theme, and the film does not initially seem to be
very optimistic about love. Yet, Ellis
and Mud’s ultimate letdown serves to bring a new hope in their friendship, so
it seems the final message of the film is that meaningful relationships cannot
be forced, and the relationships that are most important to us are many times
right under our nose. It was a nice
touch to end the film, and surprisingly, didn’t feel forced or overly
saccharine.
Chelsea:
I think it was interesting that
the naïve way that Ellis and Mud view love is shattered to make way for
something much more lasting, complex, and beautiful – a meaningful love that
commits despite flaws and is comfortable and protective, like Mud’s hallowed
shirt. I don’t know if that’s accurate,
but I think in a sense Nichols was contrasting how youth view love and how
reality often clashes with this ideal, but how truly loving relationships are
able to forgive and allow people to have flaws and love them anyways. I thought it was interesting and honest, and
despite the film’s flaws, was movingly communicated.
For some odd reason, Marty is
often overlooked when modern day film writers compile all-time best lists, even
though it won both the Academy Award for Best Picture and the Palme d’Or the
year it was released. (It was one of two films in the history of the medium to accomplish this feat.) Perhaps this is because Delbert Mann is not an
auteur in the traditional sense of the word, but we must remember that Marty is
a writer’s picture. The screenplay is by Paddy Chayefsky, who
also penned the brilliant Network, and it is wholly wonderful. It
delights in telling the story of a somewhat homely butcher in his mid-thirties
who is plagued by a desperate desire to get married but is unable to get any
dates. It takes place over the course of about two days during which
Marty meets his female counterpart and must decide if she’s worth pursuing,
because his friends call her “a dog”. Ernest Borgnine gives a celebrated
performance here in a role that is completely off-type. The main
character is so well drawn, and the whole of the film is heartbreaking and
earnest, especially in its little details. There is a conversation at the
midpoint of the film that gives the audience a beautiful glimpse of what the
future could be for these two, should they have enough courage to attempt
it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better, more human love story.
David's Response:
One of the most poignant first dates in all of film.
There are rare instances when a
director’s best service to a script is to simply get out of the way – here is
the prime example. This is the least cinematic great film I have had the
privilege to see, and because it zeroes in on a series of simple, yet achingly
heartfelt conversations, any directorial flair would have distracted from the
remarkable sincerity of its dialogue. It simply wouldn’t make sense
for a story about unassuming, humble folks falling in love to be anything but
modest in its own telling of the tale. Mann’s direction trusts the
strength of Chayefsky’s words, and the sincerity of Borgnine’s truly enchanting
performance, to indelibly capture the awkward thrills felt by novice
romantics. It is, indeed, a writer’s picture, but perhaps more accurately,
it is an everyman’s picture, for like Mann, Chayefsky also gets out of the way
of his characters. In everything, he never draws attention to his own
voice, but shows the reserve to provide an unadorned slice of life’s most
universal and uncomplicated joy – the feeling of falling in love for the first
time. Simply beautiful.
