Silver Linings Playbook

Posted on February 3, 2013 by Mark DuPré

A famous film critic once revealed one of the “dirty little secrets” of professional critics. They see so many films that they often overrate a film that’s different or fresh just because it’s outside the norm and a change of pace from the usual. Silver Linings Playbook has gotten a lot of great press, and it’s admittedly different, fresh, and refreshing. It may not be quite the great film that some are declaring, but it’s a showcase for good-to-great acting and it tackles a risky topic with great success.

David O. Russell, director of The Fighter, has a knack with actors and a way of burrowing into the heart of a story and finding a way to tell it both entertainingly and with integrity. It’s been called a romantic comedy, but it’s grittier and far more serious in topic than a typical rom-com. It’s the story of two young people struggling with life, mental illness and relationships—and much more as well.

Russell favors an intimate approach to his material, keeping the camera close and personal. This is a story about people and their struggles. Much as The Fighter was about family and only secondarily about boxing and drugs, so Silver Linings Playbook is about love, dreams, struggles and family. While films such as One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest keep us aware of the The Issue of Mental Illness while telling their story, Silver Linings Playbook stays focused on the individuals and their battles, failures and successes.

This kind of up-close-and-intimate approach works best when your actors are up to the task, and this is one of the best ensembles of the year. There has been nothing in my experience with Bradley Cooper that could have suggested that he was this capable as an actor. The role is an actor’s showcase, of course. But he hits the highs and lows with precision and grace. There are a few moments where the comic actor unfortunately gains ascendance over the straight actor, but those moments are few and work as comic relief. But Cooper is a revelation and breaks through to a whole new level with his work here.

Jennifer Lawrence’s work would be a revelation if one only knows her from The Hunger Games. Her earlier promise in Winter’s Bone (Oscar nomination for the then-17-year-old for Best Actress) is fulfilled her with a performance that is more adult, realized and well-rounded than anyone has the right to expect from such a young actress. Cooper is a few years too old for the part; Lawrence, a few years too young. But you’d never know it from her work here. She can sustain several different emotions at once, and has the uncanny ability to place vulnerability anywhere from right on the surface to several layers back behind the eyes. It’s easy to play “crazy” but not so easy to do crazy and real and particular. Her character isn’t crazy; she’s a character with mental and social behavioral issues. That involves mood swings and inappropriate actions, but they are never allowed to be expressed separately from her character. Lawrence is simply too young to be this good, which is good news for everyone who loves great film acting.

Rounding out the great acting demonstration are Robert DeNiro and Jacki Weaver as Cooper’s character’s parents. DeNiro, finally, is back as an actor. He has a required “let’s go for the Oscar nomination with this one” kind of scene with Cooper, but it works, and happily, it’s all of a piece with his fine work throughout. He’s feisty, funny, sad, pathetic, and genuine. I thought we’d lost him to parodies of his own persona and his own oeuvre. But he’s back.

Jacki Weaver, who has that face we’ve seen before but can’t place, is DeNiro’s equal, and the character that supplies whatever there is of stability in the film. This is her second Oscar nominated performance in the supporting actress category (the other for 2010’s Animal Kingdom), and she is marvelous, more than holding her own in such esteemed company. She’s the mom who loves and comforts and tries to make everything OK, but avoids every cliché in being that character. You believe she’s DeNiro’s wife and Cooper’s mother, and she’s a joy to watch.

Russell is a wonderful voice in current American cinema. Family clearly means a great deal to him, and he avoids both bathos and cynicism, even with people behaving badly. Plus he’s amazing with actors. Think of Silver Linings Playbook as a mash-up of an unusual rom-com with a study of the struggles of young adults with mental issues, and you’ll come close to understanding what this is. But films have to be experienced to be understood, and there isn’t anything else out there quite like this right now.

Posted in Film Reviews, Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Omissions from A to Z: Oscar Nominations for 2012

Posted on January 13, 2013 by Mark DuPré

The Oscar nominations are out, and they are both predictable and surprising-bordering-on-shocking. With the possibilities of up to 10 pictures getting a Best Picture nod, the suspense in that category is related more to “how many?” than who gets in. No real surprises there, except for the French-language film from Austria, Amour, which is a lock for best Foreign-Language film. Some are surprised by the nomination of indie success Beasts of the Southern Wild, but this is either the mark of the broadening of Oscar’s interests or a cynical “we are the world” moment. In any event, a flexible number of nominees in that category tends to leave the shock value out of any who make the list.

What is most shocking is found—or to be more accurate, not found—in the Best Director category. Ben Affleck has been a presumed nominee here since Argo opened. He’s won and been nominated for several best director awards for it, and he was universally applauded. It was also thought to be, after Gone, Baby, Gone and The Town, “his time.” No nomination. Then there Kathy Bigelow (full disclosure—I went to film school with her; fuller disclosure: I knew her a little, but she’d never remember me), whom many presumed was going to win her second Best Director Oscar for this as the end of the year came and Zero Dark Thirty started raking in the awards (she has won for The Hurt Locker, becoming the first woman to receive the award). Only slightly less confusing was the omission of Tom Hooper, director of Les Misérables, which was clearly a film that was lovingly and intelligently re-thought and directed for the screen. I’m assuming that since Hooper won for The King’s Speech two years ago, and wasn’t going to win it for Les Miz, the group think was to bypass him now. The only bigger omission would have been leaving out Steven Spielberg for Lincoln, but that was never going to happen.

The voters often tend to think in terms of slots, so they gave those two directing slots away to first-timer Behn Zeitlin for Beasts of the Southern Wild and to Amour’s Michael Henake, neither of whom has a snowball’s chance in hell of winning. There will be lots of analyzing, grousing and finger-pointing. As the King of Siam said, “it’s a puzzlement.”

There are some good choices here. It’s encouraging to see the three main performances in The Master recognized. Philip Seymour Hoffman, even in a “supporting” role, dominated The Master in a way that supporting-actress nominee Anne Hathaway could only dream of doing in Les Miz. Amy Adams was recognizable only physically in that film; she was a revelation. And professional grump Joaquin Phoenix gave an expressionist performance for the ages; you can put him right in there with the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari performers of 1919. It was daring, brilliant, scary and worthy of attention and study. His public dissing of the awards process happily didn’t hurt him here, and since Daniel Day-Lewis is a lock for Lincoln, Phoenix was never going to win anyway. But it’s good to see all three nominated.

Best Actor has two questionable choices. Denzel Washington is an Academy favorite, sometimes embarrassingly so, but his reviews were among the best of his career. And everyone likes Hugh Jackman, who arguably gave the performance of his career here. This is a happy way of saying how much we all appreciate him. Again, DDL is the man this year, so the nominations are just a tip of the hat.

Best Actress is going to be interesting. It’s really between Jennifer Lawrence for Silver Linings Playbook and Jessica Chastain for Zero Dark Thirty. Both have been nominated before (Jennifer for actress, Jessica for supporting). Jessica is older and has a bit more a career, so she is the likely choice, but Jennifer is popular and her film is more widely admired and….liked. However, Jennifer is just 22 and has a huge career ahead of her, so that might turn some folks to Jessica. Emmanuelle Riva for Amour is a late honor to a acting legend, and little Quvenzhané Wallis’ nomination is the award for being fresh, young and genuinely talented. Naomi Watts was near-perfect in The Impossible, but it’s a lesser film and lacks financial success and buzz.

Every supporting actor nominee already has an Oscar, so that has taken some of the stuffing out of that race. Happily, Robert DeNiro is back in form after too many years of seeming to have lost his edge; that may be rewarded. Lincoln’s heft might bring the gold to Tommy Lee Jones. Hoffman deserves it for The Master, but the film is both small and controversial, not the best combination for an award. Alan Arkin and Chrstophe Waltz have both won in the same category recently, and to make matters worse for Waltz, this year’s performance is not that dissimilar than his award-winning one, both of which were directed by Quentin Tarantino. All too similar for Waltz, though he’s excellent.

Anna Hathaway will win for supporting actress unless there is an out-of-the-blue backlash against the film that’s so bad that it colors her. But that’s unlikely, and her likeability would probably overcome all but the worst scandal. She’s the only sure thing of the evening.

The only other comment is how glad I was to see Roger Deakins nominated for his outstanding work in Skyfall, the first Oscar nomination for Bond film in 30 years. Janusz Kaminski’s work in Lincoln was beautiful, and he is likely to win on the coattails of that film. But Deakins has been nominated so many times for such good work, it would be a delight to see him win an Oscar at a long last—and for a Bond film, no less! Not likely, but I can dream a dream, can’t I?

Posted in Film-Related Articles | Leave a comment

Thoughts on the 2013 Golden Globes

Posted on January 13, 2013 by Mark DuPré

The Golden Globe Awards are fun, and aren’t really meant to be taken seriously. Yes, sometimes it creates a phony buzz around a film that some folks tie into what happens with the Academy Awards. This year, the nominations for the Oscars were announced before the Golden Globes ceremony, so all pretense of a real connection between the two sets of awards are gone.

To understand the Globes, you have to know a few things. For one, it’s a tiny and at times questionable group. There are just 84 voting members of the Hollywood Foreign Press, a phrase you hear so often the evening of the presentation that you don’t realize how very small and insignificant the group is. Some work for members of important foreign journals; some, uh, don’t. It’s a motley crew, and kudos to their marketing efforts in making us think they’re a bigger and more relevant than they are.

The attendees refer to the event as a party, and it always appears a funny, breezy, woozy affair. It’s a family gathering of actors and other film people, and they view it as a chance to dress up, kick back, and see old friends. That’s the draw, not the accolades.

Aside from being a small group, it’s a quirky one. They have their favorites, and they have their reasons for nominating certain folks. Over the years, you’ll find preferences for Johnny Depp, Sharon Stone, Scarlett Johansson, and Angelina Jolie, whether or not their performances were worthy that year. This last name is also as likely to be invited, for example, more because of whom she will bring to the party than because of an acting triumph, and this is one of the transparent weaknesses of the group. The possibility of seeing red-carpet stars and their famous mates figure in to the nominations more than we know.

They also have a reputation for being easily bought, most notoriously when Pia Zadora was voted Best New Star of the Year for 1982. The fact that her incredibly rich husband threw great parties and had money to burn for promotion might have had something to do with that risible choice (read sardonic tone). Before and since, many in the group have been thought to be able to be bought for the price of a good meal plus a few drinks.

Not that they get things terribly wrong. It’s impossible to decide “the best” in any art form, and they generally don’t hand out the big awards to the completely undeserving. So this year’s choices will likely not be terrible. So when you see that some picture won “Best” anything, remember that this is a tiny group of folks who work for oversees publications, many of whom are heavily influenced by all kinds of persuasion. But the movie folks enjoy the party, so we should too.

Posted in Film-Related Articles | Leave a comment

Django Unchained

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Mark DuPré

My film students know full well how much I don’t “appreciate” the work of Quentin Tarantino. I softened a bit with Inglourious Basterds, a lusciously filmed work that contained genuine moments of love, suspense, and an acknowledgement of historical tragedy. Now, with Django Unchained, I’m back to my original assessment of his work as essentially amoral and smart-alec (that’s in place of a more accurate but less family-friendly term).

First, the compliments: Tarantino knows how to get good performances from his actors. (In fact, the only bad performance in the film is his.) Christophe Waltz, one of the great film discoveries of recent years, turns in a performance as accomplished as his Oscar-winning turn in Inglourious Basterds. If he hadn’t done that work, he’d likely win the Oscar for this finely tuned performance. He’s confident, funny and absurdist. Also getting attention, and perhaps an Oscar, is Leonardo DiCaprio’s performance as the ridiculously named Calvin Candie. For those who never saw What’s Eating Gilbert Grape or can’t see the incredible scope of this actor over his career, perhaps this performance will finally convince skeptics of his talent. He holds onto this despicable character like a dog with a bone, and presents us with yet one more color in his acting palette. Then there is Tarantino perennial Samuel L. Jackson, who bravely takes on a role that’s about as far from his “normal” character than is even possible. Kudos for taking a brave actor’s step into the new and difficult and for pulling it off. Those who are afraid they might miss the onslaught of foul language usually associated with Mr. Jackson’s character may rest assured. The pre-Civil War timeframe and the abhorrent obsequiousness of his character do nothing to dull the onslaught of profanity, especially the actor’s most well known 12-letter word.

Jamie Foxx embodies the lead character well (especially in the comedy parts), and Kerry Washington provides the only classical acting of a major character as well as embodying her character with the beauty and strength that makes it logical that Django would go to such lengths to have her back.

That said, the rest is typical Tarantino. Lots (and lots) of profanity, and an utter disregard for the value of the human life or even anything resembling a standard. In fact, as in most of his oeuvre, there is little evidence for respect of anything; everything seems grist for the Tarantino mill. Some have apparently seen the film as a criticism of slavery, or violence, or violence-begetting-violence, or an indictment of racism. Inglourious Basterds seemed to at least occasionally acknowledge that perhaps the Nazis’ anti-Semitism and their death camps were not exactly OK. Django, on the other hand, uses slavery, racism and violence as subjects, but then merely exploits them for Tarantino’s brand of “isn’t everything fodder for satire?” humor and an indulgent orgy of violence that serves no good purpose (especially now) and obliterates any possible interpretation of this film as a social or historical comment.

I had expected an overuse of the “n” word, based on some reviewers. There was plenty, but perhaps my expectations prevented me from considering it overdone. But the violence is, to use a term, overkill. It’s not funny, nor ironic, nor a statement on anything thematically. It redefines excessive and promiscuous.

A late-phase genre piece, Django Unchained, especially in the hands of a stylist like Tarantino, could be expected to be more about style than substance. There’s nothing’s wrong with style being substance—see Moulin Rouge for musicals and any number of the Italian westerns Tarantino draws from here for examples of a baroque treatment of the western. Style can be a vessel for a love of sound, or beauty, or the history of the art form. Here, style gives a nod to the American westerns of the ‘50s, spaghetti westerns of the ‘60s and ‘70s, and any number of pieces of music from movie-theme to rock. The violence is clearly in his grindhouse movie tradition as well. Let the interpreters delve. Let them find every cinematic and musical reference and see if, along with the narrative and especially the treatment of racism and violence, if there is some kind of thematic thread other than snarkiness, a near-worship of excessive violence that glories in rather than comments on, and a tendency to riff on every topic imaginable, including (or perhaps especially) on subjects that some people might hold dear—such as, you know, like slavery and the Ku Klux Klan. (Seriously, Jonah Hill? And a “can’t see out of this hood” scene straight out of Blazing Saddles?)

Lastly, it bears repeating that unlike Hitchcock, who did a quick guest appearance in nearly all of his films, Tarantino tends to cast himself as a real character that opens his mouth. A big mistake. Even in a film where anything goes, he’s a major distraction in what is supposed to be a serious portion of the plot, and he’s simply a bad actor that’s painful to watch.

Much will be written about the various serious and real subjects QT “addresses” in this film. But he doesn’t “address” so much as riff, which devalues nearly every subject he touches. Beautifully filmed, well acted. Violent, hollow.

Posted in Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Les Misérables

Posted on January 4, 2013 by Mark DuPré

Les Misérables succeeds on so many levels, I almost lost count. In many ways, it’s a film in the narrow category of films made from sung-through musicals. In that context, it really only has The Phantom of the Opera to compare itself to, which is a fairly low bar for a comparison. Yet aside from the benefits of being a rather singular kind of film , it faces a number of cinematic and musical challenges with nary a false note (pun intended).

The quibbles: It’s too long by a half-hour, and particularly flags in the last section of the film. How director Tom Hooper handles the last few sequences bogs the film down, but is consistent with what he does in the earlier part of the film, where he finds much greater success with his material.

One has a choice of where to place the emphasis in a dramatic epic; one can emphasize the scope and sweep, or the film can focus on the human drama. Few, such as Lawrence of Arabia, can manage the delicate balance of both. Here, while there are occasional stunning epic shots, Hooper has chosen to focus on the human element, to the film’s great benefit and occasional detriment. For a musical epic, it’s a major artistic decision, and Hooper has somewhat controversially handled it by a rigorous insistence on the human face. (In some ways, Les Misérables is today’s version of Dreyer’s silent classic The Passion of Joan of Arc, with its dogged focus on the face at the expense of the sets.) The tight focus on the face has given rise to accusations of emotional manipulation, which might be considered were it not for the integrity of the performances. This is not a film about revolution, or uprisings, or economic inequities, or even a specific historical moment. It’s about survival, manipulation, suffering, selflessness, and grace versus law—and specifically how the individuals feel about it all. Set against a background that could have been explored from any number of angles (think what a Bertolucci or Godard would have done with this!), Hooper makes this a film of musically expressed emotions. For those expecting anything else, they have been or will be disappointed.

Once that emphasis is understood, Hooper’s well-documented decision to have the singing done live makes even more sense. With the focus on the live musical expression, Les Misérables becomes a classic example of how adaptation from stage to film is supposed to work. In general, the musical numbers are excellent models of how to keep the drama and immediacy alive while accounting for the realism of film as opposed to the stage. The “beauty” of the musical expression is sacrificed in each number as the singers occasionally speak, play with rhythms, and vary their musical tones wildly (but legitimately) at times. The vast majority of the time, it works.

The great case in point is Anne Hathaway’s “I Dreamed a Dream,” which unless there is a Les Miz backlash, will certainly net her the Oscar. Yes, it’s incredibly emotional and raw, and the cold heart might consider it manipulative. But she makes the thousand near-perfect musical and dramatic decisions throughout the song that earn her the right to go to the edge expressively, while maintaining the integrity of the story, the drama, the emotions, and yes, the music itself. Yes, it’s a tear-jerking scene, but the moment and her work here make it work.

This brings us to the casting, which is the greatest strength of the film. Yes, the film looks great, sounds great, and has Hooper’s unusual mise-en-scène that chooses to isolate a character somewhere in a corner of the frame, either lost or overwhelmed by the surroundings (see saw a lot of that in The King’s Speech). But it’s the casting that makes this delicate balance of acting, song, and story work so well. Other than looking a little too tall and strong (even with the weight loss), Hathaway nails her role in terms of acting and song as strongly as anyone in the film (or in any other musical film, in fact).

Almost as strong as Hathaway is Eddie Redmayne (My Week with Marilyn), whom the camera loves and is as accessible and sympathetic as any young actor in films today. He’s a (surprise) real singer, and the loveliness and occasional lightness of the voice combines with a dramatic ability to act through the song and the lyrics to create some exquisite moments in the film, especially in “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables,” which occasionally rivals “I Dreamed a Dream” for beauty, intensity and impact. But it also exemplifies the downside of Hooper’s approach. The film stays relentlessly focused on Redmayne’s expressive face throughout this song, but if ever there was a need for flashbacks or a look around at the stripped down room, it was here. The performance makes it work, but only because of the actor’s talent. This was a moment that could have used some cuts away from the main performer, and it’s just barely rescued by the actor’s skill.

Hugh Jackman in the lead role of Jean Valjean is a good choice, though his voice is just “good” and the score strains it and brings out an unfortunately nasality. But he acts through his singing, like Hathaway and Redmayne, and has the necessary tenderness, masculinity, strength and kindness for the role; in fact, the earlier scenes of the tough-and-bitter Valjean are much less believable than the later Valjean transformed by grace. He can’t put any kind of stamp on the classic “Bring Him Home,” unlike what Hathaway accomplished; he just doesn’t have it vocally. But as Hooper does with Russell Crowe’s songs occasionally, what is lacking vocally is made up with sweeping camera movements and epic aerial shots. It’s not the same as a voice that can nail the notes with conviction, but it’s a decent and intelligent substitute that creates moments the voices can’t.

Amanda Seyfried as Cosette reflects the part: pretty, fairly inconsequential, and light. Her voice is small but lovely, and her insistent vibrato is well served by a score that allows her to hit the notes and get off them without warbling. She looks and sounds the part, and that works for the film.

And then there’s Russell Crowe, an actor of strength and authority who can sing, but not the way the film needs. His voice is soft and at odds with Javert’s relentless focus. And I can’t believe I’m writing this about Crowe, but he lacks the character’s intensity. He doesn’t sing poorly, but there’s a disconnect between him and the character, and the singing voice Crowe possesses and the musical passion and force the role demands. His acting skills almost carry the day, almost….

Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham-Carter as the Thénardiers aren’t as over-the-top as feared, though he is given a bit too much comic business to do (arguably his strength). She has the better voice, but is surprisingly subdued compared to him and his frenzied actions. It’s a tough act to pull off outside of the stage, but it works here.

A happy surprise is Aaron Tveit as Enjolras the revolutionary. He’s a relatively new Broadway star, and has the most solid voice of anyone in the cast. He also has the acting chops necessary to make a believable leader and a dramatic foil for the love-struck Marius (Redmayne) In fact, he could have easily done Marius, but this is still a star-making role for him.

Samantha Barks as Eponine (“On My Own,” etc.) again demonstrates how one moves a song from stage to film. Watch her performance as Eponine at the 25th anniversary concert presentation of Les Miz, and then watch her in the same role here. It’s not a wonder why she got the part. Of course she nails things vocally, but adjusts the performance to the realism of film and of Hooper’s approach to the songs. Were it not for Hathaway, she’d be the talk of the film.

In an age when musicals are undergoing a major identity crisis, it’s encouraging to see a musical adaptation done with such intelligence and such acting/singing talent. Performance and spectacle here are not a matter of the voice alone, as with most musicals, but the interpretation of musical line and lyric that fits the realist element of the film medium and the director’s vision of a film of faces and expression. It shares a few of the weaknesses of Phantom in its resolve to use the whole Broadway score, but it happily outpaces that film in nearly every respect.

Posted in Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Skyfall

Posted on December 23, 2012 by Mark DuPré

Skyfall, the latest James Bond film,is an apologia for the whole Bond series. It rather pointedly keeps reminding us of the value of the “old ways,” old-style weapons and gadgets, and the worth of old-timers—all the while re-populating the franchise with new possible regulars and offering reasons for the need for spying in the age of modern terrorism. This isn’t your father’s James Bond movie, and it essentially kills the series and resurrects it at the same time, (slight spoiler alert) much as it does to its central character in the opening scenes.

Oscar-winning director (for American Beauty) Sam Mendes doesn’t seem the obvious choice for a Bond film. But much as Daniel Craig reinvented 007 upon his casting, Mendes reboots the series with a visual style and intelligence that almost completely removes memories of the cheese and groans that were such a part of the Bond films of the ‘80s and ‘90s. His action scenes may not be Jason Bourne-intense, but they are smarter, sharper and less unbelievable than in earlier Bond films, keeping us drawn into the film instead of disconnecting us with either respect or disbelief. His treatment of the eye-rolling double-entendres and painful one-liners renders them nearly invisible. They’re there, but they are handled in character, as part of the game that everyone knows is being played, and often coated in an irony that works for the scene. Plus this is likely the most beautiful and dazzling photographed film in the series. All this works to bring the Bond film to a new level of intelligence and visual creativity, even as it struggles to validate its existence in the age of electronic espionage and drones.

The look is simply stunning. We expect a high level of graphic design in the opening credits of a Bond film. We get that here, but it turns out to be a preview of the visual template that Mendes and cinematographer Roger Deakins (True Grit, No Country for Old Men) use in the rest of the film, most obviously in the murder-in-the-skyscraper scene, which is almost distractingly designed and beautiful. There are reflections and silhouettes everywhere, reminiscent of the director’s underrated Road to Perdition, including a repeat of that film’s gripping scene of a reflection in a window that might function as see-through glass or a mirror. The colors, the designs, the surfaces are all so gorgeous that one can be forgiven for not noticing that the ending scenes are a veritable master class on how to photograph action scenes in darkness. (His work has already been voted the best of the year by the Los Angeles Film Critics Association.)

The acting might be on the highest level of any Bond film. A late scene in an old church has Craig (a solid actor) and three Oscar winners: Judi Dench, Javier Bardem and Albert Finney in a throw-away role. One of the strengths of the film is how much film time that Dench’s character is given. Her presence elevates any film she’s in, and her authority and skill gives the film a gravitas other Bond films haven’t even aimed for; the fact that her character supplies a great deal of the narrative only enriches the entire enterprise. Bardem’s performance simultaneously provides the Bond oeuvre with one of its greatest villains and also raises the near-heretical thought that a Bond villain performance might draw an Oscar nomination. Bardem’s lines are often cheesier than the ones Craig has to deal with, but Bardem generally makes them work in character. His Silva is a multi-layered bad guy with understandable issues who draws sympathy as well as antipathy from the viewer. His role adds the “this time it’s personal” element of the plot, which sets the villainy apart from mad men or crazed terrorists. Since the vengeance is aimed at M rather than Bond, it provides an opportunity for Silva to relate to Bond in an unprecedented manner. Aside from a homoerotic exchange that will be studied far beyond its worth to the film, the connection between Silva and Bond—and their stories of work with M16—deepens both their characters and adds a frisson of recognition to them both that under slightly different circumstances, one could have become the other.

A significant departure from the Bond norm is in the treatment of women. As with the one-liners that have become embedded or are lightly tossed away, Bond’s relationships with women have undergone a transformation. This is a Bond light-years away from the womanizing Connery, where women were interchangeable and disposable. This is the post-Casino Royale Bond that was once in love, and who can see women as individuals with brains and cunning as well as looks. There is some sexual activity, to be sure, but it is mostly perfunctory, both in terms of plot (a bored Bond trying to find himself again on a desert island) and presentation (a shower seat with as much heat as a snowman and with essentially no significance to the plot). Bérénice Marlohe is lovely and has a few touching moments as the damsel in distress, but it’s Naomie Harris as Bond’s partner agent who adds the freshest note. She’s beautiful, of course, but she’s also funny, great with a gun and a line, and is Bond’s equal without her strong individuality being compromised by becoming a romantic possibility (and hence a second banana) to Bond. Dench’s M (spoiler alert) clearly won’t be making any more appearances in a Bond film, and (another spoiler alert) her replacement won’t have the age, depth or acting ability that Dench provided. Sexual tension might be re-introduced, but the jury is still out on what the series will do with Bond’s escapades or romantic interests. After all, he’s known real love and now realizes that verbal flirtations are better off being ironic or used a vehicle for exchanging real information.

For the film nerds among us, Mendes has references to his own Road to Perdition, as well as to Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief and North by Northwest, the latter often called “the first James Bond film” for its themes, opening sequence, and style. I’m sure subsequent viewings will produce more awareness of Mendez’ homages.

Skyfall brings resurrection, not just renewal, to the series, as it does to Bond himself in the plot. The promise is of better direction, stronger acting, deeper themes, and something of a less adolescent approach to sex and relationships. If that is the case, this is a good start. If not, it will be an unhappy missed opportunity.

Posted in Film Reviews, Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My new book is out!

Posted on December 8, 2012 by Mark DuPré

Dear Film People:

I know that I’ve been lax in getting my film writings on this site. It’s because I’ve been busy getting my first book to press. How to Act Like a Grown-up is now available on createspace.com and Amazon. It will be available for e-readers very soon, too.

Check out more details at http://www.actlikeagrownup.com.

It’s the perfect book for…everyone else!

Mark DuPré

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Lincoln

Posted on December 3, 2012 by Mark DuPré

Steven Spielberg’s Lincoln may be the most beautifully photographed, best-acted procedural ever filmed. The core of the film is not Lincoln’s life, or death, or any of his many personal struggles. It’s the ratification of the 13th Amendment abolishing slavery, and what Lincoln did to make that happen. It’s Law and Order in the House of Representatives. It’s gorgeous to look at, solid, slow and wordy. That’s not so much a disparagement as a description. The story, the acting and the cinematography save the day.

The Best Actor race for this year is over. It’s Daniel Day-Lewis all over the place. He’ll likely win every major award and is a shoo-in for the Oscar. His performance is a sight to behold, and to enjoy, and will be a master class for every serious actor from this point on. His Lincoln is a man who has been crushed by life, perhaps several times over, and yet has emerged stronger, kinder, and smarter for the trials. He is direct, even bluntly so, when he needs to be, yet elusive and cagey at other times. Philip Seymour Hoffman as The Master offers the only performance in this league this year, and in many ways, Hoffman nails his part as much as Day-Lewis. But no one but critics seemed interested in The Master, and Lincoln is the kind of film that wins Oscars for its central performance: good enough, but not overshadowing the superior quality of its lead’s acting. It’s by far the best thing in the film, and it’s a performance for the ages. He has effectively erased nearly every other interpretation of Abraham Lincoln with this one.

Happily, the excellent acting doesn’t stop with him. Sally Field continues to show her skill and range as a tormented Mary Lincoln. The film presents her as suffering greatly from the loss of her son Willie just a few years before, though other mental or emotional issues are suggested by her behaviors. In some ways, her performance is also a master acting class, but in ways that hurt the film. Here she is whip-smart and sarcastic, there she is bitter and clueless, then self-aware but unhappy about it, and then irrational and unhinged. Field pulls all these together as best as she can, but the film presents her in bits and pieces, in spite of the actress’s best efforts.

Tommy Lee Jones is threatening, like Philip Seymour Hoffman and others of that rank, of being so consistently good that we don’t notice how good he is. Here he is great, but it’s almost lost in Day-Lewis’s shadow and the general good work of the cast. And here is one of the problems with the cast. Other than DDL, who so disappears into his part as to hide all vestiges of a working actor, the cast of Lincoln is packed to the gills with recognizable faces, often distractingly so. The most successful at transcending their own persona is Sally Field. She will always be Sally Field, but she manages to break through by sheer virtue of talent here. But Tommy Lee Jones is still Tommy Lee Jones, no matter what he does with his hair. And then there is Oscar nominee (ON) David Strathairn, ON Hal Holbrook, and ON John Hawkes, who will become another ON this year for The Sessions. Then there are ON Jackie Earle Haley, Tim Blake Nelson, and Jared Harris, all doing yeoman work but unable to hide their recognizability. Worst of all in that category is the talented Joseph Gordon-Levitt as the Lincolns’ oldest son Robert. He does a fine job, but there’s no hiding the fact that it’s the star of 500 Days of Summer, Premium Rush and Inception playing the role. Perhaps the one who fares best here is James Spader, nearly unrecognizable under a one-for-the-ages moustache, and offering a juicy, slightly overripe performance that pulls the film in a much-needed comic direction, risking a buffoonish quality in his character and actions to breath some life into the oft-times trudging proceedings.

The real problem is one that few will point out. As a screenwriter, the highly respected and highly rewarded Tony Kushner is a great playwright. The solid structure is there in Lincoln, and Kushner knows how to build dramatic tension, but the wordiness makes Joseph Mankiewicz’ All about Eve seem like a silent film. There are plenty of opportunities to show off great talk—Lincoln’s folksy stories, his cabinet meetings, his talks with Mary, the rough-and-tumble of political clashes as the bill moves forward. But perhaps the most effective moment in the film isn’t a verbal exchange, but the quiet move of young Tad Lincoln as he wordlessly crawls on his dad’s back as Lincoln lies down next to his sleeping son on the floor and quietly awakens him to get him into bed. The move is tender and speaks volumes about their relationship and the “quality time” they’ve obviously spent together. The film needs a lot more of those kinds of visual moments. It’s never anything but lovely to look at and delightful to the ear, though John Williams’ music is a bit much at times. But Spielberg is such a visual director that you wonder how much he sacrificed to get every last word in. It’s similar to the stranglehold that the music had over the direction of Phantom of the Opera, which ended up being a music video rather than a film. We certainly get a great history lesson in Lincoln, and we never lose our place in the story. But the film borders on being illustrated at times rather than filmed.

Some have touted this as Spielberg’s best. That’s still Schindler’s List, which has the same breadth but the energy and momentum that Lincoln lacks. I’m hoping that the pictorial excesses of War Horse and the static nature of Lincoln are temporary hiccoughs, and that Spielberg gets back to making move-ies.

Posted in Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Babes in Arms (1939)

Posted on October 1, 2012 by Mark DuPré

Opening time capsules can be fun. That was my experience recently saw Babes in Arms, a 1939 classic that’s also a surprising curiosity. It’s known as the first in a series of Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland “let’s put on a show” movies (Strike Up the Band, Babes on Broadway, and Girl Crazy were to follow) and that’s the context in which it’s normally viewed. But standing on its own, it’s a showcase for Rooney and Garland, a strange and not always wondrous example of shifting musical tastes, and a pre-WWII rally all in one.

Rooney was nominated for Best Actor for this, and in many ways this may represent a peak for him. Considering his competition that year, he really doesn’t deserve it, but the film shows us what was so attractive about him. If you love energy, you love this guy. He’s everywhere at once, and his imitations of Clark Gable and Lionel Barrymore are cute if not dead-on. He’s called irrepressible by many, and a bit over the top and tiring by others. He can barely contain himself in some scenes, and you sometimes fear he’s going to explode or pass out. He’s really more of a performer and impersonator than an actor, and doesn’t really have much of a singing voice or a range. He seems to play a variety of instruments, but doesn’t. He does dance well, though.

The film opens with his character’s birth, and it’s fun to see inserted footage of the child Mickey as the film follows his character growing up on the stage. He was an exceptional child performer who unhappily didn’t develop into a more nuanced and subtle actor.

Garland, though, astonishes. Just 17 when the film was produced, she is already a solid actress and a extraordinarily sensitive singer. Released just after The Wizard of Oz, this film shows the young adult Garland with yearnings and thoughts beyond anything Dorothy was dreaming of. Her version of I Cried for You, while a bit too imitative of her Gable-dedicated You Made Me Love You of a few years before, is as heartfelt and exquisite a version as is possible from a young person. And it is as beautifully interpreted as anyone has ever done it. “Music adaptor” Roger Edens knew exactly what to do with Garland’s voice, and here he draws out a performance where every note vibrates with meaning. Some people have a voice; others know how to sing. Garland had the voice, and knew what to do with it. Revisiting that expressive, haunting voice alone is worth the visit to the film.

The other main singers contribute to the curiosity label. Betty Jaynes plays Mickey’s sister in the film, and she and baritone Douglas MacPhail supply the antiquated semi-classical sound that Nelson Eddy and Jeannette MacDonald had contributed to the mid-‘30s. There was a moment in time when placing opera next to “swing” was a win-win. It may have worked with audiences in 1939, but feels strange and musically mutant here. MacPhail has a strong baritone voice, but its power and size don’t quite fit with the others. Neither does his age (25). But perhaps the greatest curiosity of all is June Preisser as a child star looking for a comeback. Her acting style, voice and bizarre gymnastics look and sound downright alien, and remind us all that novelty acts age quickly and raise more questions than they answer. (You’ll have to see it to appreciate what I’m talking about here.)

Perhaps the most instructive part of watching—and studying—Babes in Arms is realizing what a grand departure it is from the original Broadway play. Rodgers and Hart, New York sophistication, and perhaps the greatest musical score up to that time (and continuing for another 20 year, IMHO). Think of it: “Where or When,” “My Funny Valentine,” “The Lady is a Tramp,” “Johnny One Note” and “I Wish I Were in Love Again.” All those great classics were in the Broadway version—an astonishment. Only “Where or When” made it into the film—and that was given the soft operatic trteatment by Jaynes and MacPhail. Of course, Garland would have nailed the song if given the opportunity, though as with “I Cried for You,” it would have been a bit compromised by her lack of years. Think of what Garland’s version of “My Funny Valentine” might have sounded like then. We already know what her (later) versions of the other songs sounded like. The specter of Andy Hardy hangs over the film; this was conceived as an extension of Rooney-Garland instead of as a film version of a Broadway show with the best score anyone could remember. Sometimes films simply have to cut songs because of time (Cabaret, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, etc.). Thinking that Garland and some others couldn’t have helped turn the play into a workable, albeit sophisticated, film was a business decision, a failure of imagination, or both. In either event, it was an opportunity missed.

Instead of these musical jewels, we get the fun and serviceable “Good Morning,” which shows up all over the place. It’s a solid song, and is best known as part of 1952’s Singin’ in the Rain. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the other songs from the original play. It might have made a solid addition to them, but fails as a substitute.

I’ve always considered 1939 “the year of the century,” and Babes in Arms gives another reason why. In what is traditionally considered Hollywood’s peak year, this film gives us a trip back to a time few of us remember, and even fewer can relate to. Busby Berkeley at the helm reminds us of the left-leaning Depression musicals at the early part of the decade (42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933)—making this MGM film look strangely like a Warner Bros. production. Berkeley’s style is a little less kaleidoscopic here, yet those sweeping crane shots are his personal signature and easily evoke those earlier films and their gritty, working-man themes. But the last number, God’s Country,” is given a classic Berkeley treatment, but with a theme as right-leaning as his earlier films were left-of-center. It’s as far from the stage version as one could get. It’s all gung-ho USA, with jibes at Hitler, Nazis and other enemies we weren’t officially at war with yet. In that way, perhaps it’s either of its time or prescient. In either case, it yanks the film (pun intended) into a rah-rah patriotism that feels out of place in a ’30s musical at the same time as it places the film at the forefront of wartime propaganda.

And I had just remembered it as the first of the “let’s put on a show” films….

Posted in Film Reviews, Older Films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Soul Surfer

Posted on September 24, 2012 by Mark DuPré

Finally saw 2011’s Soul Surfer, mostly because I like to keep track of how “nearly mainline” Christian films are faring these days. It was…OK.

As a story, it’s more than inspiring, and if that’s what motivates you to see it, then it really does the trick, and is well worth the time. It’s based on the true story of teenage Bethany Hamilton, an up-and-coming surfing champion living in Hawaii who survived a vicious shark attack in which she lost her arm. Bethany and her family are strong Christians, and the story is really two parts—the story of her attack and survival, and the story of how she integrated a faith-shaking incident into a faith-filled life and oh, yes, how she managed to get back to championship surfing.

In the age of special effects landscapes, alternate universes and zombie/vampire worlds, it’s refreshing to have a simple story sold simply. It would have been easy to gild the lily of such a powerful story by cranking up the dramatic moments, of which there are inherently plenty. But while the story comes through in some of its power, the film is less emotionally powerful than it might have been, and it seems to have its Christian identity a bit tamped down.

Perhaps in an effort to keep things from becoming melodramatic, the film tends to treat nearly every scene equally. There is a night surfing scene that is allowed to play out somewhat in its beauty and awe, but that is the exception. The family scenes, the missionary scenes, the times of doubt and discouragement, even the shark attack scene—-they are all fairly straightforward in treatment. Perhaps it’s the script, perhaps it’s the camera placement, or the direction, but most scenes look and feel like the rest. The emotions never get out of hand, and perhaps they should.

The Christianity is also curiously presented. According to the extra materials, the Hamilton family was insistent that two things were gotten “right”—the surfing and the Christianity. When an early scene had an outdoor church service with the worship team leading Matt Redman’s “Blessed Be Your Name,” a fairly current and popular Christian chorus, I was anticipating a film that would present today’s Christian evangelical believers with a degree of reality. Questions of faith and expressions of faith are in there, but are curiously non-specific when they should be pointed. Pain and doubt are real, whether God is in the picture or not. When He is, it can be more dramatic rather than less. Giving real thanks and glory to God is also real, and film needs to find a way to express the profound joy of getting to that place.

I’m reminded here of one of the supposed ironies of Woody Allen’s Annie Hall. It’s as focused in time and place as a film can get. It’s all about a Manhattan Upper West Side, intellectual group of creative people in the mid-1970s—some of them New York Jewish. And it’s also a love story universal in scope and appeal. Its universal appeal comes out of its specificity.  Soul Surfer offers some moments of spiritual reality and depth to the underfed Christian American filmgoer, but falls into platitudes about human strength and willpower. Bethany is clearly an amazing person, but I’m guessing she would be the last to credit herself with as much of the “survival miracle” as the film gives her.

The parents are played by top-tier actors Dennis Quaid and Oscar-winner Helen Hunt. Both are talented actors, but sometimes even the best non-Christian actors have a hard time suggesting the depths of spiritual struggles that involve God. Hunt is an excellent actress, but her cry to God to not “take” Bethany right after the attack, for example, is the work of an accomplished actor, not a woman crying out to a God she knows. Sometimes the lack of personal experience shows in an actor’s work.

Carrie Underwood stretches herself by playing Bethany’s youth leader in a role that is curiously written or poorly edited. There seem to be some issues in the first half of the film that don’t get resolved in the second. As an actress, Underwood is a great singer. (I say this with tenderness—she and my son and daughter-in-law attend the same church). I applaud her move as a step of public expression of her faith. Some singers do become good actors. Not sure I see that potential here.

Soul Surfer is a move in the right direction. But films with substantive, realistic spiritual themes can’t be left to the Europeans and Robert Duvall. American filmmakers—Christian or not—are going to have to find a way to dig deeply enough into the Christian experience to represent it in honesty, truth and artfulness. It’s a rich but under-unexplored terrain.

 

Posted in Film Reviews, Newer films | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment