"Albert Nobbs" is a film that knows exactly what it's about. Every scene underscores the theme. In this case, we're concerned with identity and the consequences of living in opposition to who you are. Every frame of this film explores identity (especially gender identity), both in plot and character. It gives the story focus and a sense of clarity.
Albert Nobbs is a waiter in Ireland in the mid 1800's. It wasn't easy to be a waiter back then. The management was demanding, the customers even more so. You can believe me in this since I was a waiter for a long while and had it been me instead of Albert, I would've shoved their mid-day meal up their snobby Irish arses. But Albert has a cultivated calm and has lifted subservience to an art form. You see, Albert Nobbs has a secret. Albert is a woman who has lived for decades as a man in order to survive and also because being a man is true to who he is. Yes, "he" because in all things except physiology, Albert is a man.
He also has big dreams. Albert has saved his money and longs to open a Tobacconist Shop and take a "wife". He has to figure out how exactly to let his future love know about his true gender without having her run for the hills on their wedding night. It's a dilemma, but Albert may have found a good source of information in Janet McTeer's character. That's all I can give you without spoilers.
Glenn Close plays Albert with earnestness and innocence. She is fantastic, Oscar worthy even. It would be a great cap to a great career and she deserves it both for her performance and for being the driving force behind this passion project (she also co-wrote the script and even the lyrics of the credit roll song). Janet McTeer is so wonderful that I would call it a revelation if I didn't already know just how good an actress she is.
"Albert Nobbs" is one of those films that comes as a delightful surprise and offers hope for the state of cinema in the face of big budget craziness and lowest-common-denominator story telling. Make a point of seeing this one.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Iron Lady
Alright, let's face it. Meryl Streep is playing on a different field from everyone else. She is asked to play the most diverse and difficult roles in current cinema and she consistently lives up to, actually exceeds expectations. This has been the case for more than two decades. Nothing new there. But sometimes great characters don't equate to great movies. Sadly this is the case with "The Iron Lady". You may have noticed that Streep is getting serious awards consideration. Did ya wonder why the film isn't being talked about for said awards? Well, I'm about to tell you.
"The Iron Lady" is a biography (of sorts) of English Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, a tough minded conservative who became the first women to lead a European Democracy. The story is told in flashback but it starts with Thatcher in her dotage, physically frail and losing a battle with dementia. She is seeing (and talking to) her dead husband (Jim Broadbent). This once powerful woman, the most powerful woman in the world in her day, has been diminished by nature. We see her early triumphs and troubles as fragments of an aging mind. And therein lies the problem.
This film is a patchwork of people and events sewn together from a faulty memory. We see them unfold with such fragmented speed that it's like watching a Margaret Thatcher highlight reel. We get facts and figures and results but we know little about the actual history. We don't know any more about The Falklands War or the IRA bombings, or Thatcher's rise to power than we did before the film started. The movie is a Cliff's Notes version of British History. It tells us little of the story and nothing of the woman who shaped the story. Scenes don't play out fully. And that is a crime. The finest actress in the English speaking world and she never really gets to play a full scene.
The film also wants to have it both ways in terms of the Thatcher legacy. It can't decide whether to play her as a feminist hero or a conservative villain, so they try to do both and they fail on each account.
Streep manages to rise above the the material, channeling Thatcher's authoritative bravado and stern will juxtaposed with the frailty of old age, her inner workings all visible through her face, lined with the limitations of her decline. In close-up, no one has ever been better. Is she really that good? Well, she makes a bad movie worth seeing, and that's no small trick.
"The Iron Lady" is a biography (of sorts) of English Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, a tough minded conservative who became the first women to lead a European Democracy. The story is told in flashback but it starts with Thatcher in her dotage, physically frail and losing a battle with dementia. She is seeing (and talking to) her dead husband (Jim Broadbent). This once powerful woman, the most powerful woman in the world in her day, has been diminished by nature. We see her early triumphs and troubles as fragments of an aging mind. And therein lies the problem.
This film is a patchwork of people and events sewn together from a faulty memory. We see them unfold with such fragmented speed that it's like watching a Margaret Thatcher highlight reel. We get facts and figures and results but we know little about the actual history. We don't know any more about The Falklands War or the IRA bombings, or Thatcher's rise to power than we did before the film started. The movie is a Cliff's Notes version of British History. It tells us little of the story and nothing of the woman who shaped the story. Scenes don't play out fully. And that is a crime. The finest actress in the English speaking world and she never really gets to play a full scene.
The film also wants to have it both ways in terms of the Thatcher legacy. It can't decide whether to play her as a feminist hero or a conservative villain, so they try to do both and they fail on each account.
Streep manages to rise above the the material, channeling Thatcher's authoritative bravado and stern will juxtaposed with the frailty of old age, her inner workings all visible through her face, lined with the limitations of her decline. In close-up, no one has ever been better. Is she really that good? Well, she makes a bad movie worth seeing, and that's no small trick.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Help
"The Help" has Oscar movie written all over it. Serious subject, interracial cast, uplifting message etc. Based on a novel, "The Help" is a story of the segregated south, the deep south in fact, because in 1963, you couldn't get any deeper south than Mississippi.
This is the story of two sets of women, the privileged young white housewives who have houses and kids and husbands, and the black maids who actually do the work of cleaning those houses and taking care of those kids. It's the story of injustice, both institutional and petty, and it's the story of how the women of 1960's Mississippi deal with those injustices. It tells of the struggles of the civil rights era one personal story at a time, one slice of revenge at a time.
Emma Stone plays Skeeter Phelan, an aspiring journalist who longs to write something important. She sees her chance in the stories of the black maids that have to swallow their pride and their dignity in order to keep their jobs. What one of the racist housewives has to swallow is the grand secret of the film. It's an irreverent metaphor but you'll have to see the movie. No spoilers here.
This film is sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and very well acted. But it is often a little too black and white (excuse the pun) for my tastes. There are shades of gray that are trampled in the telling. And in this story the true terrors of the segregated south don't make much of an appearance. After all it's right around this time that three voting rights workers are murdered in Mississippi. "The Help" is a film that's more interested in bigots getting their come-uppance than any true sense of justice. It was well described as a tale of segregation suited perfectly for the Oprah Show. The edge isn't there but the characters are interesting and revenge gets served up as a satisfying side dish. I don't think it deserves quite this much awards attention but "The Help" is certainly a good watch.
This is the story of two sets of women, the privileged young white housewives who have houses and kids and husbands, and the black maids who actually do the work of cleaning those houses and taking care of those kids. It's the story of injustice, both institutional and petty, and it's the story of how the women of 1960's Mississippi deal with those injustices. It tells of the struggles of the civil rights era one personal story at a time, one slice of revenge at a time.
Emma Stone plays Skeeter Phelan, an aspiring journalist who longs to write something important. She sees her chance in the stories of the black maids that have to swallow their pride and their dignity in order to keep their jobs. What one of the racist housewives has to swallow is the grand secret of the film. It's an irreverent metaphor but you'll have to see the movie. No spoilers here.
This film is sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and very well acted. But it is often a little too black and white (excuse the pun) for my tastes. There are shades of gray that are trampled in the telling. And in this story the true terrors of the segregated south don't make much of an appearance. After all it's right around this time that three voting rights workers are murdered in Mississippi. "The Help" is a film that's more interested in bigots getting their come-uppance than any true sense of justice. It was well described as a tale of segregation suited perfectly for the Oprah Show. The edge isn't there but the characters are interesting and revenge gets served up as a satisfying side dish. I don't think it deserves quite this much awards attention but "The Help" is certainly a good watch.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Bridesmaids
If you have read this blog, you know I have a prejudice against film comedies written by or for the alumni of Saturday Night Live. "Bridesmaids" doesn't change my view, but it is probably better than most.
Kristen Whig (also the writer), plays a goofy screw-up. Her love life is a mess, her business went belly up and she is sharing a living space with the roommates from hell. Her best friend (Maya Rudolph, also SNL)is faring much better. She's about to be married and Whig's character is to be Maid of Honor. Enter a collection of oddball bridesmaids around whom the story (what there is of it) revolves. This includes Melissa McCarthy as a heavy, homely, hard ass who has managed to grow a healthy harvest of self-esteem in some very thin topsoil. More on her later.
"Bridesmaids" then becomes a series of sketches, some funny, some sweet, some not so much. All typical pre-wedding stuff. Whig does manage to pull off a scene where the bathroom humor is slightly more funny than gross. I guess that's something.
This film is typical of all SNL-fostered comedies. Funny scenes (mostly) strung together on the thinnest thread of dramatic structure. That may sound hoity-toity of me but the result is a thoroughly forgettable movie. This one has some funny stuff, some interesting and likable characters, but it doesn't add up to much of a movie. Good try though.
"Bridesmaids" also has Melissa McCarthy whose character does have a complete arc and who does do some excellent character work. She's gotten a lot of awards attention, maybe even enough to wrangle an Oscar nomination. I have no problem with that. She's outstanding. But other talk of Oscar nominations....Best Picture? Best Screenplay? Please. That's just crazy talk.
Kristen Whig (also the writer), plays a goofy screw-up. Her love life is a mess, her business went belly up and she is sharing a living space with the roommates from hell. Her best friend (Maya Rudolph, also SNL)is faring much better. She's about to be married and Whig's character is to be Maid of Honor. Enter a collection of oddball bridesmaids around whom the story (what there is of it) revolves. This includes Melissa McCarthy as a heavy, homely, hard ass who has managed to grow a healthy harvest of self-esteem in some very thin topsoil. More on her later.
"Bridesmaids" then becomes a series of sketches, some funny, some sweet, some not so much. All typical pre-wedding stuff. Whig does manage to pull off a scene where the bathroom humor is slightly more funny than gross. I guess that's something.
This film is typical of all SNL-fostered comedies. Funny scenes (mostly) strung together on the thinnest thread of dramatic structure. That may sound hoity-toity of me but the result is a thoroughly forgettable movie. This one has some funny stuff, some interesting and likable characters, but it doesn't add up to much of a movie. Good try though.
"Bridesmaids" also has Melissa McCarthy whose character does have a complete arc and who does do some excellent character work. She's gotten a lot of awards attention, maybe even enough to wrangle an Oscar nomination. I have no problem with that. She's outstanding. But other talk of Oscar nominations....Best Picture? Best Screenplay? Please. That's just crazy talk.
Friday, January 6, 2012
My Week with Marilyn
I never really got why Marilyn Monroe was considered the greatest sex symbol of all time. Beautiful, yes, but not classically. She was rounder and thicker than the typical Hollywood standard of the day and certainly she wasn't the impossibly slim waif that is the measure of modern sex appeal. And her sexual celebrity was in fact a male fantasy, as opposed to today where woman (or sometimes girls) are more of a determining factor in selecting the "it" chick. (The Kardashians are creatures born of a woman's sensibility-and un-sexier sex symbols there have never been) But Marilyn was different. Hell, she remains different. She is to this day the gold standard of sex appeal. But I never really saw it that way.
A new film "My Week with Marilyn", based on a supposedly true story, shed a bit more light on this for me. Here's how the story goes:
Our young protagonist, Colin Clark, 23 years old,(played by a perfectly cast Eddie Redmayne), a bit naive but really more ambitious, becomes the assistant to Lawrence Olivier in 1956, just when Olivier is about to shoot "The Prince and the Showgirl". Olivier is to star and direct the film and has hired Marilyn Monroe, just coming into the height of her popularity, to co-star with him.
She is newly married to Arthur Miller and shows up in England a vulnerable mess. She is accompanied by an entourage that includes Miller and acting coach Paula Strasberg (Lee's wife) whose job it is to keep the fragile star on an even emotional keel and whisper acting advise in her ear. But Marilyn is a mess, intimidated and full of self doubt, and absolutely driving Olivier to distraction. It becomes Colin's job to get Marilyn to work and over the course of the shoot they become pals and confidants, both inside and outside of the bedroom. So much for the plot.
This film is a character study and Michelle Williams has done her homework. She inhabits and reveals Marilyn completely, revealing her as fun, fragile, savvy if not really smart, insecure, and manipulative. Now other films or books may have given us pieces of all of these traits but under Ms. Williams, they fuse into something more complete. At one point Marilyn and young Colin are on a day trip to an English estate. Coming down a stairwell, they are met by a small mob of castle staff. Marilyn turns to Colin and says "Shall I be her?" and then goes through a series of sexy poses, blowing kisses to the crowd. Well, ya gotta give the people what they want.
I was even more fascinated by Kenneth Branagh's turn as Laurence Olivier. Vain and brilliant, his fascination with Marilyn and rage against her unprofessional work habits are the central conflict of the film. He doesn't approve of this "method" thing that all the Americans are involved with. Larry is a "show up on time, know your lines, don't bump into the furniture" type of actor. Marilyn clearly is not. Olivier rages but recognizes that Marilyn really does have something special on screen. The best insight in the script for me was the line about Olivier being a great actor who wanted to be a movie star while Marilyn was a movie star who wanted to be a great actress. It was a joy watch Branagh bring Olivier to life.
"My Week with Marilyn" has some flaws as a film but the cast wins you over. You'll see more than one at Oscar time, I think. Judi Dench, Zoe Wanamaker, Julia Ormand (as Vivien Leigh)and even our young heroine from Harry Potter Emma Watson give wonderful supporting turns.
In the end, I loved this film despite its shortcomings. It was engaging, sexy and fascinating, flaws be damned. Hmmm...that's kind of what people must have felt about Marilyn Monroe.
A new film "My Week with Marilyn", based on a supposedly true story, shed a bit more light on this for me. Here's how the story goes:
Our young protagonist, Colin Clark, 23 years old,(played by a perfectly cast Eddie Redmayne), a bit naive but really more ambitious, becomes the assistant to Lawrence Olivier in 1956, just when Olivier is about to shoot "The Prince and the Showgirl". Olivier is to star and direct the film and has hired Marilyn Monroe, just coming into the height of her popularity, to co-star with him.
She is newly married to Arthur Miller and shows up in England a vulnerable mess. She is accompanied by an entourage that includes Miller and acting coach Paula Strasberg (Lee's wife) whose job it is to keep the fragile star on an even emotional keel and whisper acting advise in her ear. But Marilyn is a mess, intimidated and full of self doubt, and absolutely driving Olivier to distraction. It becomes Colin's job to get Marilyn to work and over the course of the shoot they become pals and confidants, both inside and outside of the bedroom. So much for the plot.
This film is a character study and Michelle Williams has done her homework. She inhabits and reveals Marilyn completely, revealing her as fun, fragile, savvy if not really smart, insecure, and manipulative. Now other films or books may have given us pieces of all of these traits but under Ms. Williams, they fuse into something more complete. At one point Marilyn and young Colin are on a day trip to an English estate. Coming down a stairwell, they are met by a small mob of castle staff. Marilyn turns to Colin and says "Shall I be her?" and then goes through a series of sexy poses, blowing kisses to the crowd. Well, ya gotta give the people what they want.
I was even more fascinated by Kenneth Branagh's turn as Laurence Olivier. Vain and brilliant, his fascination with Marilyn and rage against her unprofessional work habits are the central conflict of the film. He doesn't approve of this "method" thing that all the Americans are involved with. Larry is a "show up on time, know your lines, don't bump into the furniture" type of actor. Marilyn clearly is not. Olivier rages but recognizes that Marilyn really does have something special on screen. The best insight in the script for me was the line about Olivier being a great actor who wanted to be a movie star while Marilyn was a movie star who wanted to be a great actress. It was a joy watch Branagh bring Olivier to life.
"My Week with Marilyn" has some flaws as a film but the cast wins you over. You'll see more than one at Oscar time, I think. Judi Dench, Zoe Wanamaker, Julia Ormand (as Vivien Leigh)and even our young heroine from Harry Potter Emma Watson give wonderful supporting turns.
In the end, I loved this film despite its shortcomings. It was engaging, sexy and fascinating, flaws be damned. Hmmm...that's kind of what people must have felt about Marilyn Monroe.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Artist
Lots of people, friends and family, have fallen in love with "The Artist". There's a lot to fall in love with here. It's one of the best films of this year though a Facebook friend or two would like to expand the time line to the best of the decade. Not too sure about that, but this is certainly a cinematic wonder to behold.
I was afraid at first that this was going to be a gimmick----oh, for those of you living under the proverbial cinematic rock, "The Artist" is a silent movie (almost) set in the silent movie era, about people who make silent movies. And of course it's about the advent of talking pictures. In unskilled hands it could make for some awful filmmaking. Gratefully, no unskilled hands here.
The wonderful thing about the silent era was that it fostered, well, really invented a visual language for cinema. Story had to be conveyed through movement, action, expression, angle, etc. mit out sound as the Germans used to say. (By the way, for all my industry friends that's where the phrase M.O.S. comes from). The silent era was the era of story told through motion and picture---motion pictures.
History lesson done.
Jean Dujardin plays George Valentin, a suave and charismatic silent film star. With a cute sidekick dog, fan adoration, and a big house with a life size portrait of himself, he would seem to have it all. Actually he does have it all. What he can't see (or hear) is the advent of the talking picture that's about to send his career in a downward spiral.
A young actress with star-making potential and a name to match,
Peppy Miller, (played sweetly by Berenice Bejo) has a flirtation with George and a love interest is born. But Peppy is the future and George, well, not so much. His inevitable spiral is where the story bogs down a little. It's pretty predictable all things considered and moves forward to a resolution as old as the hills. If this movie was about the plotline, we'd have trouble.
"The Artist" isn't about the destination, it's about the journey. And this journey is often breathtakingly original. As Peppy pines for George in his dressing room, she sees his coat and hat on a rack and slips her arm into the sleeve, caressing her own body as if it were George. It's intimate and beautiful. And that's just a taste. The film is by turns delightful, original, charming, honest and surprising in execution if not in storyline. "The Artist" is a whimsical and wonderful journey on a familiar road. Best of the year? Quite possibly. Best of the decade? Ummm.... there's a lot of room for debate.
I was afraid at first that this was going to be a gimmick----oh, for those of you living under the proverbial cinematic rock, "The Artist" is a silent movie (almost) set in the silent movie era, about people who make silent movies. And of course it's about the advent of talking pictures. In unskilled hands it could make for some awful filmmaking. Gratefully, no unskilled hands here.
The wonderful thing about the silent era was that it fostered, well, really invented a visual language for cinema. Story had to be conveyed through movement, action, expression, angle, etc. mit out sound as the Germans used to say. (By the way, for all my industry friends that's where the phrase M.O.S. comes from). The silent era was the era of story told through motion and picture---motion pictures.
History lesson done.
Jean Dujardin plays George Valentin, a suave and charismatic silent film star. With a cute sidekick dog, fan adoration, and a big house with a life size portrait of himself, he would seem to have it all. Actually he does have it all. What he can't see (or hear) is the advent of the talking picture that's about to send his career in a downward spiral.
A young actress with star-making potential and a name to match,
Peppy Miller, (played sweetly by Berenice Bejo) has a flirtation with George and a love interest is born. But Peppy is the future and George, well, not so much. His inevitable spiral is where the story bogs down a little. It's pretty predictable all things considered and moves forward to a resolution as old as the hills. If this movie was about the plotline, we'd have trouble.
"The Artist" isn't about the destination, it's about the journey. And this journey is often breathtakingly original. As Peppy pines for George in his dressing room, she sees his coat and hat on a rack and slips her arm into the sleeve, caressing her own body as if it were George. It's intimate and beautiful. And that's just a taste. The film is by turns delightful, original, charming, honest and surprising in execution if not in storyline. "The Artist" is a whimsical and wonderful journey on a familiar road. Best of the year? Quite possibly. Best of the decade? Ummm.... there's a lot of room for debate.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The Descendents
Before I review this really good film, I need to get something off my chest. Have you seen the TV adds for "The Descendents"? OK, what kind of film did you think this was? Kind of whimsical? A quirky family comedy? That's where I went. The trailer leads us to believe that this is a cute comedy featuring George Clooney's patented dry delivery. Fraud!!! Bullshit marketing fraud!! This is a serious pet peeve of mine, especially because this is a really terrific film. It simply isn't funny----at all. A minor chuckle once or twice maybe, but this film is being marketed as a comedy simply because the filmmakers don't trust their own work. It's ridiculous, it's a lie and it's still an excellent film. Shame on their greedy, lying asses. There, I feel better.
Ok, now for the film. Writer/director Alexander Payne specializes in normal shlubs in crisis. In his "Sideways" Paul Giamatti was the normal shlub. Jack Nicholson was the shlub du jour in "About Schmidt". In "The Descendents" George Clooney picks up that mantle. Hard to make George Clooney shlubby you say? Not really. Clooney is almost as good in the acting department as he is in the good looks department. In fact a couple of times he looks shlubby indeed, almost paunchy.
He plays a real estate lawyer who has been for many years an absentee husband and father. Now his wife has had a tragic accident and is on life support, leaving him to deal with two daughters who are completely alien to him. Since the accident, his ten year old is acting out. The seventeen-year-old is angry and uncontrollable. Clooney must go through a crash course in coping with young women without the benefit of his wife.
Eventually Clooney and his eldest daughter (played beautifully with just the right highlights of anger by Shailene Woodley) form an uneasy alliance thanks to a common enemy and the film becomes about their journey toward understanding in the midst of tragedy.
The film is framed by a subplot involving the sale of a parcel of land that has been passed down to Clooney and a bevy of laid back Hawaiian cousins, all of whom are descendents of Hawaiian Royalty with liberal amounts of Anglo/Howly blood. The land is pristine and amazingly beautiful and worth like a half a billion (with a B) dollars. Hawaii becomes another character in the film and Payne perfectly captures the Island zeitgeist. I've only been to Hawaii once but it really was just like this film portrays. And beautiful....well, I don't have time or space to capture the beauty of Hawaii in my little blog. I wish I did.
"The Descendents" is understated and poetic and great to look at and interesting and sometimes even adventurous. The acting is admirable, the writing and directing insightful and honest. It's just not really funny. So accept for those morons in marketing, job well done everyone. Seek this wonderful film out.
Ok, now for the film. Writer/director Alexander Payne specializes in normal shlubs in crisis. In his "Sideways" Paul Giamatti was the normal shlub. Jack Nicholson was the shlub du jour in "About Schmidt". In "The Descendents" George Clooney picks up that mantle. Hard to make George Clooney shlubby you say? Not really. Clooney is almost as good in the acting department as he is in the good looks department. In fact a couple of times he looks shlubby indeed, almost paunchy.
He plays a real estate lawyer who has been for many years an absentee husband and father. Now his wife has had a tragic accident and is on life support, leaving him to deal with two daughters who are completely alien to him. Since the accident, his ten year old is acting out. The seventeen-year-old is angry and uncontrollable. Clooney must go through a crash course in coping with young women without the benefit of his wife.
Eventually Clooney and his eldest daughter (played beautifully with just the right highlights of anger by Shailene Woodley) form an uneasy alliance thanks to a common enemy and the film becomes about their journey toward understanding in the midst of tragedy.
The film is framed by a subplot involving the sale of a parcel of land that has been passed down to Clooney and a bevy of laid back Hawaiian cousins, all of whom are descendents of Hawaiian Royalty with liberal amounts of Anglo/Howly blood. The land is pristine and amazingly beautiful and worth like a half a billion (with a B) dollars. Hawaii becomes another character in the film and Payne perfectly captures the Island zeitgeist. I've only been to Hawaii once but it really was just like this film portrays. And beautiful....well, I don't have time or space to capture the beauty of Hawaii in my little blog. I wish I did.
"The Descendents" is understated and poetic and great to look at and interesting and sometimes even adventurous. The acting is admirable, the writing and directing insightful and honest. It's just not really funny. So accept for those morons in marketing, job well done everyone. Seek this wonderful film out.
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