Um...this is about as weird as a musical gets. First, the credits: Directed by Jacques Demy (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The Young Girls of Rochefort) and starring Catherine Deneuve (you may have heard of her), Jean Marais (Orpheus, Beauty and the Beast), Jacques Perrin (he was Deneuve's unsuspecting soulmate in The Young Girls of Rochefort), and Delphine Seyrig (Last Year at Marienbad).
Next, the story: Donkey Skin begins with a beautiful king, his beautiful queen, their beautiful daughter, and a prosperous kingdom. The kingdom is prosperous because of a magic donkey that shits gold. Really. The queen falls ill, and on her deathbed makes the king promise that he will only marry a woman more beautiful and "mieux faite" than her. He goes a little crazy from grief, and after rejecting many neighboring princesses, realizes his daughter fits the bill! He asks her to marry him, and she gets rather confused because she doesn't know if marrying her father fits under the category of filial devotion.
Luckily, her fairy godmother (played deliciously campy by Seyrig) steps in and advises her that this is not the case, and that she needs to get the hell out of there. After a few failed schemes, the princess flees the country, disguised in the skin of said magic donkey. She takes a job as a scullery maid in a nearby land, a prince falls madly in love with her, and the rest is evident.
Fucked up fairy tale aside, the magic of this movie is in the details. It is, in many ways, an homage to the cinematic tricks and styles of Jean Cocteau (perhaps one of the reasons why Marais did this film), as well as Cocteau's preoccupation with archetypes and fairy tales. The film is full of whimsical sets, rich sets, slow motion, reverse motion, and retro Méliès-style jump cuts. There are several anachronistic jokes, as well as references to other strange fairy tales penned by Charles Perrault.
Most importantly: this is a musical! Cocteau, if he had lived longer, might have graced us with a musical. We'll never know. But Demy does his best to rectify that with a catchy, eery score by Michel Legrand (he did several other Demy films, as well as pretty much everything else under the sun).
Lastly, the critique: Though this movie was entertaining and certainly original, it wasn't nearly as luminous or emotionally resonant as the Cocteau films it honors. Nor is it even up to par with other Demy films. I was genuinely amused by the satirical moments, but what I love about Cocteau's fantasies is the depth of absorption I experience, even in the most clichéd of tales, like Beauty and the Beast. Cocteau understands archetypes so well, and the proto-emotions that still ring true from fairy tales. Demy might have plumbed a lot more depth in this story than the facile Freudian jokes that are easily divined. There also were not nearly enough musical numbers...I believe there were only three or four, and several were reprises. Perhaps Demy was working on a tighter budget than in the 60s?
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Synecdoche, New York
Normally I would write my own review, but after an excruciating evening of watching this movie with Annie, I pretty much agree with everything Stephanie Zacharek says:
http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/review/2008/10/24/synecdoche/
Except for what she says about Claire--I think Kauffman actually wrote Claire to be a rather unsympathetic character, not someone fragile (nor do I think Williams is a "fragile" sort of actress), someone we're supposed to ridicule because she's the kind of theatre actress who isn't as smart as the plays she plays and because she has no idea how self-centered she is. That bugged me in the movie. It seemed petty.
I don't exactly agree with Zacharek about the potential the movie had, because I really liked Eternal Sunshine and Adaptation. I think those movies did have emotional resonance, even as they got so meta they made my eyes roll. I think if Synecdoche had been reined in somewhat and taken one direction instead of another, I might have liked it more. Synecdoche reminds me, in that sense, of The Science of Sleep, which I still really like but feel is lacking in many ways. In both instances a very unique screenwriter took a hand at directing their own work and kind of ran away with themselves.
http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/review/2008/10/24/synecdoche/
Except for what she says about Claire--I think Kauffman actually wrote Claire to be a rather unsympathetic character, not someone fragile (nor do I think Williams is a "fragile" sort of actress), someone we're supposed to ridicule because she's the kind of theatre actress who isn't as smart as the plays she plays and because she has no idea how self-centered she is. That bugged me in the movie. It seemed petty.
I don't exactly agree with Zacharek about the potential the movie had, because I really liked Eternal Sunshine and Adaptation. I think those movies did have emotional resonance, even as they got so meta they made my eyes roll. I think if Synecdoche had been reined in somewhat and taken one direction instead of another, I might have liked it more. Synecdoche reminds me, in that sense, of The Science of Sleep, which I still really like but feel is lacking in many ways. In both instances a very unique screenwriter took a hand at directing their own work and kind of ran away with themselves.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Ghost Town
Ricky Gervais is invariably hilarious, and I rather like Téa Leoni, but why oh why did this movie have to get so unbearably sappy toward the end? It had a lot going for it, I liked the dynamic between them, and then the nausea kicked in. What a shame. If you can, watch the first hour and turn it off, and I'll tell you the shocking secret--they end up together at the end. The best part of a romantic comedy is the meet-cute, anyway, and that's no different in Ghost Town, despite the silly semi-supernatural plot.
Happy Go Lucky
The latest installment from Mike Leigh was not what I expected. Even after reading the reviews, I kept thinking, "something horrible has gotta happen...where's the social drama?" That ended up adding some serious suspense to two key moments in the movie, which I won't divulge because I hate giving away plot. It actually made the movie more exciting to watch, knowing the kind of movies Leigh has made previously and having my audience expectations subverted.
So what is Happy Go Lucky really about? It really is about being happy. The main character, Polly, played by Sally Hawkins (whom you may recognize from Vera Drake or a deliciously bad lesbian BBC miniseries, Fingersmith), is truly a happy person. Through interactions with her friends, flirting, confrontations with family, and especially when she's alone, we realize that we cannot rationalize away her happiness as we are wont to do, thinking to ourselves, "oh, she's just being cheerful...he's just repressing things...she's gotta be faking it." Polly really is happy, and the reactions of people around her are astonishingly accurate and damning.
Why do we hate happy people? Why do we think they're so smug, and that they're rubbing their happiness in our faces? Why do we balk whenever anyone asks, "Are you happy?" These are all questions Leigh tackles in Happy Go Lucky, and I really admire the sharp observations he makes. I also loved the tone of the movie...not a lot happens, but it's always engaging, and the dialogue is very well-written.
Two things I really, really liked about this movie, aside from the fact that somebody managed to make life-affirming movie that doesn't make me gag but has quite a bit of substance, are the Buffalo '66-esque scenes with the driving instructor, which become so tragic toward the end, and the rather poetic moments where Polly is alone and observing the world around her. Through most of the movie, Polly talks a mile a minute and says cringe-worthy, awkward-yet-charming things, and when she lets up from the barrage, it feels like a breath of fresh air, and in those moments Polly's character takes on such depth that I can't believe I ever thought she was one-dimensional.
I highly recommend this movie. It might be one of the best I've seen all year. It's so original and well-filmed and well-acted and unusual--a happy-go-lucky film that doesn't leave a bad taste in one's mouth afterwards. Definitely give it a try.
So what is Happy Go Lucky really about? It really is about being happy. The main character, Polly, played by Sally Hawkins (whom you may recognize from Vera Drake or a deliciously bad lesbian BBC miniseries, Fingersmith), is truly a happy person. Through interactions with her friends, flirting, confrontations with family, and especially when she's alone, we realize that we cannot rationalize away her happiness as we are wont to do, thinking to ourselves, "oh, she's just being cheerful...he's just repressing things...she's gotta be faking it." Polly really is happy, and the reactions of people around her are astonishingly accurate and damning.
Why do we hate happy people? Why do we think they're so smug, and that they're rubbing their happiness in our faces? Why do we balk whenever anyone asks, "Are you happy?" These are all questions Leigh tackles in Happy Go Lucky, and I really admire the sharp observations he makes. I also loved the tone of the movie...not a lot happens, but it's always engaging, and the dialogue is very well-written.
Two things I really, really liked about this movie, aside from the fact that somebody managed to make life-affirming movie that doesn't make me gag but has quite a bit of substance, are the Buffalo '66-esque scenes with the driving instructor, which become so tragic toward the end, and the rather poetic moments where Polly is alone and observing the world around her. Through most of the movie, Polly talks a mile a minute and says cringe-worthy, awkward-yet-charming things, and when she lets up from the barrage, it feels like a breath of fresh air, and in those moments Polly's character takes on such depth that I can't believe I ever thought she was one-dimensional.
I highly recommend this movie. It might be one of the best I've seen all year. It's so original and well-filmed and well-acted and unusual--a happy-go-lucky film that doesn't leave a bad taste in one's mouth afterwards. Definitely give it a try.
Gran Torino
I was surprised by how much I liked this movie. At this point I feel like the only roles Eastwood can profit from are the ones that deconstruct his persona. I can't imagine him playing a role that separates him from it, but a role that draws from it, and comments on it, and uses it wisely is immensely satisfying to watch. Eastwood's persona, and his deft directing of his own persona without loads of unnecessary ego (which only makes Clint Eastwood even more awesome), manage to streamline the characterization and distract from the kind of clumsy script and make the interaction between Hollywood's oldest and gruffest acting veteran and the two rookie leads incredibly moving instead of painfully sappy.
I kind of like the way Eastwood directs--it's nothing flashy, just sticks to basics, very well-controlled. It's easy to see his influences lie along the lines of John Ford and the classics. I wasn't a huge fan of the cinematography, but that may have been the streaming quality. The funny moments were the real gems of the movie: the casual interactions between Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) and his Hmong neighbors after his initial rebuttals. They were priceless. I also LOVE that they cast all nonprofessionals to play the Hmong in the movie. When they are directed well, nonprofessional actors can give such astonishing performances!
This movie also brought to light something that a lot of people may not realize about ethnic tensions in America: they won't be solved by policy in Washington. It takes baby steps in shitty Detroit suburbs and sometimes extraordinary circumstances for various ethnicities to see each other not as stereotypes, but as human beings. Gran Torino did a superb job of illustrating the plausibility of an incredibly bitter, bigoted Korean War vet actually befriending, and staunchly defending, his Asian neighbors. I really appreciated that message.
This movie also gets some points for making Annie and I cry at the end, simultaneously, so that we turned to each other and each got kind of embarrassed. It's a real tearjerker.
I kind of like the way Eastwood directs--it's nothing flashy, just sticks to basics, very well-controlled. It's easy to see his influences lie along the lines of John Ford and the classics. I wasn't a huge fan of the cinematography, but that may have been the streaming quality. The funny moments were the real gems of the movie: the casual interactions between Walt Kowalski (Eastwood) and his Hmong neighbors after his initial rebuttals. They were priceless. I also LOVE that they cast all nonprofessionals to play the Hmong in the movie. When they are directed well, nonprofessional actors can give such astonishing performances!
This movie also brought to light something that a lot of people may not realize about ethnic tensions in America: they won't be solved by policy in Washington. It takes baby steps in shitty Detroit suburbs and sometimes extraordinary circumstances for various ethnicities to see each other not as stereotypes, but as human beings. Gran Torino did a superb job of illustrating the plausibility of an incredibly bitter, bigoted Korean War vet actually befriending, and staunchly defending, his Asian neighbors. I really appreciated that message.
This movie also gets some points for making Annie and I cry at the end, simultaneously, so that we turned to each other and each got kind of embarrassed. It's a real tearjerker.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Nine Lives
Nine Lives is a more ambitious feature than Things You Can Tell Just by Looking at Her. Garcia's screenwriting is still quite the same--tightly written vignettes, centered around female characters--but cinematically, Nine Lives goes a step further. The movie is composed of 9 real-time steadicam shots, each about 10 minutes long. I LOVE that kind of filmmaking, but not unconditionally. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. When a movie is all style an no substance, those long takes are excruciating, but as anyone who had to listen to me when I was writing my senior thesis knows, my favorite filmmaker, Catherine Breillat, uses just that technique to astonishing effect.
The effect of the cinematography of Nine Lives is not exactly astonishing. In fact, you probably won't even notice that each scene is in real-time, or that the camera never cuts. You might experience a strange sensation as the camera swings back and forth between characters, or glides from room to room, because, I would argue, the way we identify with characters on screen and the way we inhabit their perspectives through narrative suturing is disrupted when we never visually cut from character to character. There are no cuts. There is drifting. We do not have a chance to experience that cut and re-set our attention to the other character. Instead, our attention shifts and is sometimes confused and overwhelmed.
That's just my opinion, however. It's not standard spectator theory. There's not enough spectator theory out there, but I bet this movie would be a good one to use in an essay about spectator relations and long takes.
So, wanky film theory aside, this movie was a serious tearjerker. I thought the acting was phenomenal. The cast includes some of my personal favorites, including Canadian actress Molly Parker, whom none of you know starred in a seriously odd movie, Kissed, about a necrophiliac. The movie also features veteran greats like Robin Wright Penn (Ebert and I agree that she was the most phenomenal thing in the movie), Sissy Spacek, Glenn Close (who seems like she's been the same age for the past 20 years...creepy), and Holly Hunter. Two actresses who might not stand out, but should, are Elpidia Carrillo and Amanda Seyfried. I think Carrillo is a much better actress than she probably gets credit for, and I remember her from high school Spanish class, when our teacher didn't feel like teaching and would let us watch La Familia over and over again. What an awesome movie that is. Seyfried, on the other hand, is someone I'm sure you'll recognize as the most vapid Plastic from Mean Girls and as Sophie from one of the most abominable movies of all time, Mamma Mia. I assumed Seyfried would be pathetic, but I guess I underestimated Garcia's talent as a director. Seyfried was surprisingly receptive and fluid, allowing me to see what her character might be experiencing, even though I doubt Seyfried had any idea herself. That was impressive.
I would highly recommend Nine Lives, and even though The Passengers, Garcia's latest flick, got bad reviews, I still think he's a director to follow.
The effect of the cinematography of Nine Lives is not exactly astonishing. In fact, you probably won't even notice that each scene is in real-time, or that the camera never cuts. You might experience a strange sensation as the camera swings back and forth between characters, or glides from room to room, because, I would argue, the way we identify with characters on screen and the way we inhabit their perspectives through narrative suturing is disrupted when we never visually cut from character to character. There are no cuts. There is drifting. We do not have a chance to experience that cut and re-set our attention to the other character. Instead, our attention shifts and is sometimes confused and overwhelmed.
That's just my opinion, however. It's not standard spectator theory. There's not enough spectator theory out there, but I bet this movie would be a good one to use in an essay about spectator relations and long takes.
So, wanky film theory aside, this movie was a serious tearjerker. I thought the acting was phenomenal. The cast includes some of my personal favorites, including Canadian actress Molly Parker, whom none of you know starred in a seriously odd movie, Kissed, about a necrophiliac. The movie also features veteran greats like Robin Wright Penn (Ebert and I agree that she was the most phenomenal thing in the movie), Sissy Spacek, Glenn Close (who seems like she's been the same age for the past 20 years...creepy), and Holly Hunter. Two actresses who might not stand out, but should, are Elpidia Carrillo and Amanda Seyfried. I think Carrillo is a much better actress than she probably gets credit for, and I remember her from high school Spanish class, when our teacher didn't feel like teaching and would let us watch La Familia over and over again. What an awesome movie that is. Seyfried, on the other hand, is someone I'm sure you'll recognize as the most vapid Plastic from Mean Girls and as Sophie from one of the most abominable movies of all time, Mamma Mia. I assumed Seyfried would be pathetic, but I guess I underestimated Garcia's talent as a director. Seyfried was surprisingly receptive and fluid, allowing me to see what her character might be experiencing, even though I doubt Seyfried had any idea herself. That was impressive.
I would highly recommend Nine Lives, and even though The Passengers, Garcia's latest flick, got bad reviews, I still think he's a director to follow.
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