Film stuff by Mark

Wes Anderson (The Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Darjeeling Limited, The Royal Tenenbaums, Rushmore) is a critics darling, and many are falling all over themselves to proclaim this his best yet. It may be, but I’m not among that group, as hard as I tried to love Moonrise Kingdom. It’s perhaps Anderson’s most Andersonian, or phrased another way, perhaps not his best, but perhaps his most.

What is wondrous is his equal treatment of the preteen leads. Even within the thin air of an Anderson picture, his leads—two so-called “troubled kids” in what they call love—breathe with freshness and reality. Kara Howard (Suzy) and Jared Gilman (Sam) manage to transcend the Anderson straightjacket of style and resonate as people who happen to be young, acting their age and experiencing emotions both intensely real and breathtakingly naïve. While Anderson and the script lean more toward respecting the integrity of the young lovers’ feelings and actions over those of the adults, the film never presses that point so heavily that it becomes a screed on the innocence and contrasting purity of youth.

How one enjoys/respect an Anderson film depends on how one views his style. Moonrise Kingdom is as formalist as a mainstream film comes that’s not set in outer space, has aliens, or exists in the heated brain of a dreamer or psychopath. Some call his style precious, others, twee. Moonrise Kingdom just misses becoming both, leaning instead toward the delightfully formalist. The geometric patterns of camera movement almost uncomfortably pull the viewer out of the narrative at times, but the energy of plot and character keep the film moving forward at a quick enough pace that the style finally becomes of a piece with what’s occurring in the story; those moments of confluence are lovely.

What threatens to derail the film is his treatment of adults and his casting. Anderson seems to be developing a Woody Allenesque reputation; that is, he has his favorites, plus some of the “big guns” want to work for him as well.  Here the enviable cast includes Edward Norton, Bruce Willis, Anderson favorite Bill Murray, and Frances McDormand (Oscar winner for Fargo) in the lead non-children roles. Norton fits his role perfectly, providing the right balance of realism and slight exaggeration. Bruce Willis, an underused, underappreciated and underchallenged actor, does the near-impossible, playing someone with less intelligence than himself with believability, a character struggling to find understanding and then expression of what he’s feeling and beginning to think. It’s a tender performance that helps holds the film together, and will likely be ignored come Award-time.

I get it that many in Hollywood wait until the men are 60 and the women are nearly 40 before reproducing, but that’s not the norm in the rest of the world. It strains credibility to have 62-year-old Bill Murray play someone with such young children, and to have 55-year-old Frances McDormand be the mom. I get that in an Anderson film, the actors are all riffing on their characters rather than playing them. But it might have helped the film to cast some age-appropriate actors as the parents. It would also have helped to give the adults some of the relational integrity that the kids possess. The young ones connect believably, with their sincerity, confusion, curiosity and growing perspectives providing the relational glue. Murray’s and McDormand’s characters live in the same house as husband and wife, but not in the same universe. Even with the clear strains in the relationship, it might have helped to showing something connecting these two other than parenthood. And (near spoiler alert), McDormand’s other relationship in the film is as far-fetched as her marriage seems to be. When we’re allowed, yea, encouraged, to respect and believe the central relationship of the film, it’s more disappointment than irony to not believe any of the others.

Lastly, the embarrassment of casting riches becomes a problem. We just get used to having these big stars and/or respected actors playing all these roles when the film throws us a number of curves—oh, look, that’s Jason Schwartzman (and isn’t he a Coppola and wasn’t he in…?), and OMG, that’s not really [insert name of famous gangster/tough guy star here], is it? A Brechtian style that pulls away from the story is one thing; playing “Guess what star is right around the corner?” threatens to take the film from merely heightened reality to an Anderson version of the “anything goes” end of Blazing Saddles.

There is a lot here to respect, especially in the script by Anderson and Roman Coppola. There are ironies and observations about youth and love, marriage and parenting that will likely fill many a film-school paper in the near future. The story is solidly constructed, providing a foundation for a presentation style that surrounds everything else in the film in quotation marks.

Delightful, brilliant, precious, too self-conscious? It’s really all in the heart and mind of the beholder. For this one perhaps more than most other films, the critics have reported—you’ll have to decide.

I find myself in an unusual position in regard to the latest box office phenomenon. I haven’t read the books, and don’t intend to (no time and no interest, in that order). I approach it not looking for how well it hewed to the best sellers, or even for how it speaks to us to day vis-à-vis reality shows, politics or Young Adult female role models. I’m viewing it, simply, as a film.

As a film that is a stand-alone, it works for the most part. It’s well cast, well acted, generally well directed and looks good. The film lives or dies with Jennifer Lawrence, and it does both, in a way. What’s generally right either hangs on her shoulders or is reflected in her performance and casting.

There has been some talk about how Lawrence is—can you believe the terminology?—too fat for the role. Jennifer is a lovely, medium-figured young actress of impressive skill and sensitivity. Aside from the real harm that could be done to female tweens or teens in calling someone like Lawrence by that term, under it all is a genuine criticism that extends beyond the actress’s form. Knowing nothing other than the general plot before seeing the film, I expected that Katniss would share the same “lean and hungry look” as Shakespeare’s Cassius (Julius Caesar). For better or for worse, Lawrence has a soft, rounded look that doesn’t quite reflect the struggles of someone in her character’s position.

That wouldn’t be too noticeable if the entire film hadn’t followed the same pattern. It’s a little soft where it should be lean and strong, and rounded where it should be edgy. People are working hard to survive, and then they are picked in a diabolical cross between Survivor and Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery to fight one another to the death. For whatever reason, that upside down, grossly unfair world is presented as is. There’s hardly a note of anger or opposition, or even an attempt to escape. It’s “just the way things are.” There is a little historical explanation of how things got to this point, but it’s a hermetically sealed world, not resonating with ours in any internal way. Only near the end, when Cato (Alexander Ludwig) talks about himself just before his death, do we hear anything that connects us emotionally with the present.

The film’s strengths are also its weaknesses. Lawrence is clearly an actress to watch (see her Oscar-nominated turn in Winter’s Bone), and she has the uncanny ability to contain several off-times contradictory emotions at one time. She can look brave, fearful, insecure, and full of wonder all at once. She’s an acting first cousin to Carrie Mulligan. Yet that refusal to lock down on just one emotion sends some scenes soaring while over the course of the film leaves Katniss without the power and edge that the movie suggests she possesses. Based solely on the film, Katniss seems as if she should be more dark and specific than emotionally removed, which is how she is often played.

The world of the film suffers from the same problem as Lawrence. The material is necessarily dark, but the film leans towards a lovely, even painterly, palette, making the world prettier and softer than the events taking place in it—without exploring that irony. The action sequences work and then they don’t. Whether it was to keep the PG-13 rating or not, the scenes of teens dying are dispatched quickly, with a camera deliberately placed around the event rather than on it. The horror remains in the mind rather than on the eye, which keeps the rating and a distance from the carnage. Since teens slaughtering teems is anathema to most viewers, this keeps the film from a possible tipping point. Yet it turns out that almost all of the action sequences are treated in this same generalized manner. Having virtual air quotes around the teen killings seems to have a purpose, but keeping the viewer as unengaged in the other action sequences merely works to disconnect us from the film.

The scenes in the Capital are disconnected as well. Yes, there is beautiful food and an exquisite presentation of it, but the contrast with life back in District 12 is left largely unexplored. The costumes and behavior of the TV personnel suggests The Fifth Element, but without a context that makes any sense of it or comments on it for us. There is no sting to the outfits or over-the-top actions of these people, as they exist in their own unrelatable world.

Beside Lawrence, the casting seems spot on. Josh Hutcherson as Peeta fits nearly perfectly here. He’s strong enough physically (and made more so to our unbelieving eyes by the script’s insistence on his bakery muscles) as well as emotionally, but not strong enough that he doesn’t need rescuing by our heroine. He and Lawrence have no problem carrying the film. Happily, the obvious Team Peeta/Team Gale ridiculousness that will undoubtedly replace the Twilight boy-girl-boy conflict once the final film in that series comes and goes is only suggested here; we are all granted a temporary reprieve.

Stanley Tucci as TV host Caesar Flickerman (what a name!) proves once again, as if needed, that he can do anything. He gives a small acting master class for anyone with eyes to see. Donald Sutherland has a small part (for now?) in what could easily have been cast with an obvious heavy such as Malcolm McDowell. He brings humanity and depth in a small (for now?) but crucial role. He could have phoned in this part and no one might have noticed. Thankfully, he didn’t. As has been noted, Elizabeth Banks (Effie Trinket—quel nom encore une fois!) is nearly unrecognizable, but nails the part without taking it too far. Lenny Kravitz is not really an actor, but he brings some welcome breathing room and quiet life into the film with a gentle understated performance. Woody Harrelson’s casting is a near-cliché, but after his first sequence, he moves into a specificity that takes the role beyond the usual and expected.

Director Gary Ross may just be too soft for the material. Seabiscuit and Pleasantville are not necessary the first films one would look at to find a director suitable for this material. Rumors fly that in spite of the box office, that Ross would be replaced for the sequel. I don’t mean to damn him with faint praise, but his work here is “fine.” Time will tell if that is enough for the future.

Like Crazy (2011) is an indie film about young love and young lovers.  She’s an English student, he an American one. They fall in love, make one big wrong decision (among many smaller stupid ones), and then get bounced around by the repercussions of the decision.

Felicity Jones as Anna has received the majority of the attention (various “Breakthrough” awards) for her performance, but Anton Yelchin (Star Trek) as Jacob has had his deserved share of attention. She looks a little as if she could eat him for breakfast, but they are almost equal on the screen. I’d recite the plot if it made any difference, but it’s mostly not so much of a plot as a series of plot devices.

What struck me most about the film, aside from the solid acting, was its self-conscious mise-en-scène and near addiction to jump cuts. Sometimes it’s fresh; at other times merely distracting and bumpy. What might interest most of its target audience is the presence of Hunger Games star Jennifer Lawrence (known to the rest of us as Oscar nominee for Winter’s Bone) in a minor but significant part as Jacob’s other love interest.

Perhaps I’m just getting old, but a part of me wants to screen this for every young person in the target age bracket and say, “See what one stupid decision to not obey the law can do to mess up your life?!” Or, “Look at what happens when you get emotionally and physically involved too early—such complications, such confusion!” The contrivance of the bad decision creates situations that both strain credibility and our tolerance for these two characters. We are set up to believe that this is a great love attacked by circumstances. But it turns out that instead we have a quick, medium-depth love compromised by a stupid decision that’s entirely their fault, and further compromised by a lack of patience, emotional immaturity and a profound inability to think.

Act of Valor can’t be looked at like other films, as it fits in its own created category. It’s the best film about Navy SEALs starring Navy SEALs, which of course tells you nothing. It’s a little like Courageous (really a sermon, but a good one), or The Artist (a one-time experiment that worked). It’s not a work of art, or really entertainment in the usual sense.  Act of Valor is an action film, a recruitment piece, a fictionalized documentary, and unlike anything out right now.

In film school, we studied the role of story and the role of spectacle in film. Spectacle can be whatever grabs or entertains you that is outside of the story. It’s Judy Garland singing, or Gene Kelly dancing, Jim Carrey doing his physical comedy, or Carmen Miranda just standing there. It may be just barely connected to the story, but it’s the wow factor that makes some films so enjoyable.  Here, the wow factor is real SEALs doing the action, and how much you like the film is to a great extent dependent on how that grabs you. I’m the product of two WWII vets, and I have a huge soft spot in my heart for the military. I have a great deal of respect for every serviceman and –woman, and both gratitude and admiration for the most highly trained personnel in the various branches. That made this film an enjoyable ride for me.

The acting, to be kind, is terrible. There are a few real actors, most notably Roselyn Sanchez of TV’s Without a Trace. Those real actors help carry the narrative burden of the plot, which involves international terrorism and scary terrorist alliances. Those scenes that move that along are not embarrassing, and help tie the film together with a degree of believability. The scenes of the SEALs relating to their families or one another in non-combat situations—well, those are something else.

Act of Valor also a Rorschach test. It’s not really political, but those of a political mind will find it so (as they do most everything else). How you feel about the military and our involvement in the affairs of other countries may well color how you take in the film. If you look at it as you would the Oscar-nominated films of 2011, you’d be disappointed and would miss the point. It’s about the spectacle of real trained men and women doing the things we only think we see in other action films.

As an action film, Act of Valor just stumbles along, its scenes of daring sometimes just barely held together by a rescue mission that unearths other dangers and connections that must be dealt with. The film is so focused on the SEALs and their work that it’s curiously involving at times in terms of the plot, which in other hands could be shocking or horrific. The cool and detachment of the central characters unhappily makes the film almost too detached and flat emotionally. The film eschews emotional highs and lows, as it focuses on the work of the SEALs, whose job it is to stay cool and detached. We’re tied in as viewers to what the SEALs are doing, but their “get the job done” approach pushes drama away. Great for them in real life; less great for the viewer. The action sequences have the same approach, and are both amazing (look at what they are really doing!) and lacking in dramatic structure and impact. Not going Hollywood sometimes has its downs.

Be warned: This is not a kid’s movie; it’s R for a reason. No sex or nudity, but the violence is rough at times, though never dwelt on for its own sake. Some is even implied or shown indirectly, but this film is still filled with torture, combat, explosions and flying bullets. The language, again not exploitative, is what you’d expect from people doing dastardly deeds and from those trying to stop them.

Though it has its moments of visual beauty, I doubt I’ll ever use this in my film class as any kind of example of the art of film. As a dramatized look inside what some of the bravest and most highly trained among us are doing, however, I appreciated the chance to glance inside.