Posts Tagged ‘top 250’

The Rules of Attraction

The Rules of Attraction

Wednesday, January 21st, 2009

“I must insist you bring back your friend’s corpse for me to do some tests!”

It’s been a while since I watched one of my all-time faves and got that horrible feeling as it began that, eep, this might be the viewing where I finally change my mind. I got it pretty powerful in the pre-credits sequence here – almost to the point of wondering why I keep insisting it should be Roger Avary, who directed here, who directs Glamorama whenever the time comes, Lunar Park for that matter, any Bret Easton Ellis movie that comes along (I wouldn’t mind a remake of Less Than Zero either). I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this movie before so forgive me if I repeat myself in places.

Anyway, the trepidation shook off eventually … and the reason I think Avary should direct Easton Ellis is simply, I think this is how Easton Ellis should look. It should have the gimmicky touches of style, the reverse film, the clever split screen joining together. In the end, yes, I admit it is less than the movie I once thought it was. The drug deal “climax” feels very clunky and an earlier scene setting that up is clunk city with the “asshole on my elbow” guy and the ludicrous excess of swearing. But it has so many great scenes in it: two of which, Victor’s trip to Europe and the girl’s suicide to “Without You” (though I’ve recently discovered Janis Ian’s “Sunset of Your Life” works even better over that scene), I think are masterful – and i just love the overall production and costume design, the cinematography and the soundtrack. It seems Hollywood is loathe to give Roger Avary another shot behind the camera, unless he’s just unwilling to do it himself, but it should be clear to anyone who watches this movie, whether they like it or not, that there’s the germ of a great director here. It’s a movie I will revisit again and again because there’s just so much life and invention in it.



Unforgiven

Unforgiven

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

“I guess they had it coming.”
“We all got it coming, kid.”

It’s certainly not as tight as the more recent clutch of Eastwood’s films (excepting Flags and Letters perhaps) and it was probably for that reason that I still remember the first time I saw this movie, bored out of my mind at the age of 17 or so, wondering just why it was considered in so many circles so brilliant. The last time I saw it was on DVD so I’d guess I was early 20s and it was a different movie entirely – maybe the novelty of DVD made me give it that little bit more time but I’d like to think I plain just “got it” more that time.

This might be only the third time I’ve seen it in my life, and it’s a changed film again. I’ve certainly seen it few enough times to always forget just exactly what the story is – I remember an element of revenge, and I remember the powerful message about violence, but I forget the parts Morgan Freeman, Richard Harris and Gene Hackman have to play in it all; I forget the astonishing depiction of the group of women the story revolves around – I was reminded of that camaraderie to be found among the bank girls of Dog Day Afternoon for some reason, just so real in the way they stick by one another and their fearless “leaders”, (in Dog Day, the way the manager opts to go back into the bank despite having the opportunity to escape; here the woman yelling back at the people throwing rocks through the window in protest at their actions).

I’m still struck by the slightly plodding nature of it in places – yet I’m struck by it only because I can’t fathom, in spite of this slowness that would normally turn me off a movie (see Revolutionary Road most recently), why I find myself glued to the screen, catatonic-like, to Eastwood’s completely arresting chunks of film. Here is a film set over a hundred years ago; made almost 20 years ago; but it feels utterly present even as it glows out of a 28” widescreen in the corner.

Again rooting around for someone else’s words to describe this sense I get from Eastwood’s movies (boy, I can’t wait to work through the fistfuls I haven’t seen yet), I turned to Roger Ebert’s review of this movie and found them:

“Not a boring montage of quick cuts and meaningless violence, but a story told through deliberate strategy, in which events may not be possible, but are somehow plausible.”

(lol … Changeling, Million Dollar Baby anyone?) My italics on the deliberate strategy – I think that’s the key to all of Eastwood’s work … he just always works methodically through a particularly muddy issue and emerges with something every time that, though he does address the tricky grey areas, is nevertheless absolute about where he stands; more’s the point, convinces you to side with him. I really think I might be in agreement with others on this one – the guy has made a ton of great movies, but this one is just something else.



Let The Right One In

Let The Right One In

Monday, January 12th, 2009

The good news to me here was I got to see this one quicker than last year’s rave reviewed foreign horror movie [Rec], lol. I did approach it more apprehensively however – my response to all the “best vampire movie ever!” quotes was pretty much, “yeah, sure … because of course every new genre movie released in the past few years has to be immediately the best of its kind,” lol.

Well, it turns out, never mind those comments .. because if this isn’t at least one of the best vampire movies, it’s certainly one of the best young love stories I’ve seen. I wrote the previous sentences before taking a gander at the movie’s IMDb message board (where the boffins reside, don’t you know ;-) ) hoping to find some kind of outraged mention of “the crotch shot” that genuinely took even me aback here, only to discover that in fact what you see appear to be scarred genitals indicating that the (cute! cute!) Eli might, as in the novel, be a boy afterall – there are vague exchanges here and there about “her” gender. What it comes down to in the end, I think, is after 200 years, does it really matter? And y’know what? This makes it an even more beautiful love story to me.

In any case, all I can say right now is this movie ultimately took my breath away, I literally didn’t want it to end and when the final scene closed, I just couldn’t wait to see it again. I’m still uncomfortable with the phrase “best vampire movie ever” because it’s such a peculiarly broad sub-genre – the phrase just doesn’t seem like high enough praise to me on the one hand, and on the other, just doesn’t seem to mean much at all. It’s one of the best horror movies I’ve seen, certainly, and like I said, it was the romance that truly slayed me. The music plays along with this, blending from gripping strings to a tender piano theme.

Yes, it does kinda seem like at last we’ve hit another one of those, “gush, gush, I’ll think about it later – loved it, bye!” reviews on this one, lol. Sometimes I find myself faced with my ridiculous queue of movies to watch and end up doing nothing because I can’t make a decision; then there are movies like this that, as soon as the opportunity arises, I truly drop everything for. The Fall fell into the same category tonight, but this was the one that truly satisfied.



The Horse Whisperer

The Horse Whisperer

Tuesday, July 29th, 2008

I may have only seen this once since the first time seeing it on the big screen, and I really don’t know why but for its sheer length and weight for what, at a first glance, seems like a relatively simple and almost corny tale to tell (I mean: it’s literally about “getting back in the saddle”, lol …)

I’ve written about how much I love the girl and horse subgenre, possibly more than any other kind of movie, and what I realised to my surprise watching this one this time is, it might be the best of the bunch, because of the huge void it places between the girl and the horse that only makes their bond more beautiful in the end. It might sound silly that I’d forget such a thing, but I’d forgotten just how much the horse features here. I remembered the horror of the accident at the start, but I forgot about the central part of the set-up which is that this movie is about two desperately wounded and broken creatures (“Who’s ever gonna want me like this??”) finding their feet again.

It’s one of those movies that is all about a person trying not to cry, and finally finding the moment where they find they can. It’s interesting that the episode of This American Life I listened to last night had a sorta-similar story to that of Grace here feeling responsible for her friend Judith’s death. It doesn’t get much more painful than that feeling, I think; that old cliché, “It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.” Some clichés are clichés ‘cos they work.

“We need to show Pilgrim how to help you get on. ‘cos y’see, there’s a point where neither of you is gonna need me anymore. And we’re there. I’m not asking.”

Then there’s the other characters. I love how communication (or the lack thereof; or even the transcendence over the verbal kind) is conveyed in the movie. At times even the humans appear somewhat horselike and animal in their behaviours to one another, it reminds me of the shrieking towards the end of The Birds when certain characters almost seem to be becoming avian. I haven’t read the novel but I imagine that the great chunks of silence here are explained by way of beautifully descriptive inner monologues etc. Rather than try and fill those out in dialogue or cut them entirely, the screenwriter and then Redford choose to simply allow those silences to speak for themselves, the camera lingering on a glare, a stare, a turn of the head slowed down by doubleframing. It’s a huge reason why the movie winds up so long but I think it’s wonderful that Redford had the liberty to do that. As anyone who knows me will know, I’m all about silences; I couldn’t possibly hold this movie’s use of them against it.

If nothing else, it also happens in my opinion to be by far the best work Scarlett Johansson has ever done. It’s really like the book, the movie, the character were made for her.



Once Upon a Time in America

Once Upon a Time in America

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008

“He’s altogether lovable
But he’ll always be a two-bit punk
So he’ll never be my beloved.
What a shame.”

Parts of this almost provoke the same reaction I sometimes have to parts of Leon, the boyish gangsterry action dialogue etc. There’s something almost frighteningly misogynistic about it that seems to strike me more each time I watch it and kinda makes the fact it’s regarded so much as a classic without this element being raised for discussion so much just a little unnerving. I still find the rape towards the end physically impossible to watch in its entirety. But it’s not just that scene – an earlier scene, possibly a couple, show women clearly enjoying the sickening treatment they’re subjected to à la Straw Dogs – right at the start a minor character seems far more aroused than frightened by the cold touch of a gun on her nipple.

There are hints throughout that all this is just a character thing and that I probably shouldn’t be so bugged by it – I love Robert De Niro’s line when he gets re-acquainted with a girl they rape while robbing a bank. She comes on to him personally, but he turns her down, adding, “Besides if I gave you a good crack in the mouth I’m afraid you’d probably like it.” I mean, there are women like this in the world, sad but true, it reminds me of that, “What is it with women like you?” scene in Pay it Forward. But I don’t know, these moments still don’t sit entirely right with me. It’s just an issue of balance, I think.

On which point, of course, there’s Deborah. Played so memorably at first by Jennifer Connolly first as the girl Noodles will never have, though she certainly wants him her sights are set so high on her future. That line above, that whole monologue, it’s like over half the movie to me, a little like Estella’s treatment of Pip in Great Expectations, how many young relationships go this way, “I like you. But you smell,” etc (oversimplified perhaps but you get the gist). Later she’s played even more beautifully by Elizabeth McGovern, the slight European twinge to her accent distancing her from the grown Noodles even more, “Where’d you learn all that parlez-vous stuff?” he asks her when they finally go on a date towards the end – the most beautiful scene imaginable made almost as unwatchable as what follows when you know where the evening leads. In that awful scene in the car, she’s not only losing her dignity, possibly even her virginity; she’s losing him, any idea of his good side she has slips away forever. He becomes just the two-bit punk to her, and I find that the most crushing part of the movie, that finality of a stupid action in determining where a friendship or even love will go or terminate (yeh, I guess it goes without saying – I’ve been there – not as severe but I’ve definitely been stupid, who hasn’t?).

Anyway, even despite my discomfort, it is a true masterpiece, I wish I had the time to write a much longer and better review than this. All cut versions of the movie should be destroyed – really, do yourself a favour and see the 4 hour cut (I think by now that’s the more easily available version anyway but it still needs signposting lol). I’ve literally only focussed on the Deborah and Noodles thread here because it’s the part that pierced my heart the very first time I saw it and that stuck with me all these years. But there’s so much more. The Charlotte Russe scene, the Clockwork Orange styled baby swap, Danny Aiello’s wonderful turn as the police chief (called Aiello, LOL) they give it up the ass to, lol. It’s perfect.



Grace is Gone

Grace is Gone

Thursday, May 15th, 2008

When I saw 1408 last year, I’d already been a fan of John Cusack I’m guessing since Grosse Pointe Blank 10 years previously – but it was still like having a veil lifted from my eyes as I realised, he wasn’t just cool, he was one of best actors I’d ever seen. It was only shortly after that that I heard the buzz around his performance here and that was it, I was sure he’d finally get an Oscar nomination.

Well, I wasn’t let down. Cusack’s performance here is completely overwhelming, everything that isn’t spoken playing off his face more eloquently and painfully than any words could muster. Clint Eastwood’s score is quietly brilliant too. Both, as I thought months ago before even seeing or hearing either, should’ve featured in this year’s Oscar nominations.

Though I hadn’t realised it, I think the reason my reviews have suffered a little lately is because I really badly needed a tearjerker like this to clear the system. The two girls who play Cusack’s daughters are amazing too – we almost seem to see them growing up on the screen before our eyes, so much do we come to know them and so well is it conveyed to us how important the days covered will be in their lives to come. They even get their ears pierced together midway. The ultimate effect of this is that when the moment comes that the movie is all about – dad finally finding the right time and the right words to tell his girls what has happened – even though we’re in possession of the facts from the start – it’s like finally we’re really being told too, and we take it just the same as the girls. It’s a beautiful, beautiful movie, and at 85 minutes it really proves they needn’t come much longer.



The Umbrellas of Cherbourg [Les Parapluies de Cherbourg]

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg [Les Parapluies de Cherbourg]

Monday, April 7th, 2008

I watched this today because it’s one of those movies I can watch any time but it was midway that I realised maybe I’d subconsciously chosen it for another reason. It connects to a lot of the movies I’ve watched recently and the feelings I’ve had watching them – from Enchanted to Penelope to Riding in Cars with Boys the other day, I even found similarities to Once here this time around. I’d never watched the introduction on the DVD of this movie before, and in it, Geoff Andrew says some things about the ending that my gut instinct disagreed with a lot, dismissing the romance at the start as meaningless teenage meanderings and such, as if the romance between Guy and Geneviève was never meant to bloom nor could have possibly bloomed, even if he’d returned to her in time. I took as much issue with that idea as I have recently with this idea that innocence lost can never be regained, etc, that I won’t go into yet again.

But as the movie went on, I did find myself looking at it in a different way from before – dare I say it, with some aging mature wisdom on my side. There are a lot of questions I’ve had over this movie in the past, like for example why I continue to love it so much when so many of the characters do things that I would never usually find acceptable. Everybody in the movie is in some way “after something” that they never ask for directly and honestly – both Guy and Geneviève in some way give up waiting for their love, the less said about Geneviève’s mother the better, Madeleine never declares her obvious love for Guy, and Roland Cassard, though perhaps the most admirable character in the movie, is always presented as a bit of a slimeball who looks down on the others – here to the rescue, yes, but through little real effort on his part. I think in the end it’s this full package of flawed characters illustrating perhaps precisely how “people things” tend to transpire whether we like them or not. Even Geneviève’s mother has a lot of pearls of wisdom, though delivered a little harshly (not to mention shrilly lol) at times.

But in the end, any amount of babble like this becomes fairly moot once you’re faced with the movie itself. From the opening title onwards – that rain falling as though from the camera itself on the people of Cherbourg, as though we the audience are already crying on the movie – this movie is simply pure magic that I could bawl through from beginning to end. The music is sublime, the colours are eye-popping, and the characters are, as I hopefully illustrated above, surprisingly complicated given the context. It has the most conflicted but beautiful ending I’ve ever seen, and I still react to it today as I did over 10 years ago when I first saw it: my stomach almost physically churns and tightens, I’m overjoyed but crushed, tears fall down my face over a wretchedly human smile on my lips. This movie isn’t beautiful … it’s beauty. If this review reads like a mess than it’s just an illustration of how the movie affects me, lol, and probably an explanation of why there hasn’t previously been a review of it here despite it being one of my all-time faves.



Millions

Millions

Monday, April 7th, 2008

Nice long first review below so I don’t feel compelled to say too much here this time but to mention how surprised I was that it worked so well a second time. The ending here is probably seen as particularly corny to some, and when I first saw it though it really overwhelmed me I wasn’t sure if it’d just caught me at the right time. I think the reason it looks like it’s actually going to work for me any number of times I see it now comes down to two things: the line that precedes it from the boy, “But this is my story, and this is where I want it to end …”, and all that water. The movie comes down to a child’s hope and water: how beautifully simple can you get? I should also repeat the fact that I should really watch this movie before and after anything featuring James Nesbitt – I’ve really grown to dislike him recently, mostly over the casting of him in the BBC’s “Passion” as Pontius Pilate … but he really is quite amazing here.

September 6th, 2007:

Absolute genius. A quintessential children’s movie (okay, it’s a 12A in the UK, I don’t agree; it gets a little scary towards the end but this so fits the bill alongside old children’s classics that I think it should almost be a U) and a quintessential British movie – addressing poverty, class, religion, the ethnic minorities, all those lovely things – in one. Not to mention the fact it remains at all turns, absolutely, a Danny Boyle film. I’ve yet to see Sunshine, but on the evidence up to now, I’ve got to say, surely Boyle is one of the most consistently brilliant directors not only in the UK but in the whole field.

The basic story is that a few weeks before the UK switches from Pound Sterling to Euros, a young boy discovers a bag stuffed with hundreds of thousands (not millions, but hey, what’s the difference to a child?) and must therefore decide what to do with it before it becomes worthless. If movies like Brewster’s Millions and Blank Cheque come to mind with that set-up, you couldn’t be further off. While all around him seem obsessed to the point of stereotype with football, the kid in question here has this obsession with Catholic Saints reminiscent of Winona Ryder’s character in Mermaids … he even thinks he can see and talk to them at times (leading to hilarious moments when one of said Saints drops into his cardboard house by the railway for a sneaky joint, lol; or the Geordie Saint Peter telling him, “For Christ’s sake don’t tick them little boxes,” as the kid attempts to send the money to various charities). Against all odds, this kid wants to do good with this money, and is amazed at how hard that is.

I was hooked on this from the moment the Danny Elfman-esque opening music (incidentally, wonderful score all the way through by John Murphy) – coupled with some CGI of a new housing estate being constructed, a bit reminiscent of a Barratt commercial actually, but bizarrely beautiful – struck up, and it only got better from there. It never took the directions I thought it would. At times it’s similar to child fantasy movies like Lawn Dogs or Paperhouse; at times, the influence of much older, earthier things like Whistle Down the Wind is more evident (I have in mind in particular the scenes where the kid and his brother are introducing their school peers to the money; and the long line of homeless people following them to Pizza Hut).

It’s a mesmerising, beautiful movie with much to say about childhood and the state of the world, perhaps best captured best in the abandoned way the hero says to his dad at the end, “Everyone gets robbed at Christmas, dad.” Incidentally, major kudos has to be given to James Nesbitt here. Though I think he’s really talented, he normally manages to do something to annoy me; here, he not only didn’t do that, but he manages to cover up his seemingly uncoverable accent; Daisy Donovan is a delight, too, I had no idea she could act. The kids, it has to be said, aren’t fantastic; but it’s clear that Boyle has almost used their weaknesses to his advantage; again, it’s almost like watching a much older production. This is really a gem, and possible Boyle’s best movie to date.