rating: *****
the story: The life of lawman Wyatt Earp.
review: Recently I watched a slew of westerns. It's part of my blood, something I inherited from my dad, one of those John Wayne partisans. Wyatt Earp wasn't part of the lineup (two DVD sets totaling fourteen films, plus Tombstone) until I added it in (plus another viewing of Colin Farell's American Outlaws, which I'm ready to agree is mostly a misfire). I'm glad I did. It's now probably my favorite Kevin Costner movie.
Made at the tail-end of Coster's golden age, just before Waterworld destroyed his (hugely) popular career, a hotstreak that included The Untouchables, Bull Durham, Field of Dreams, Dances with Wolves, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, JFK, and The Bodyguard, it was shot and released at the same time as Tombstone, which was released first, got all the praise, and all but canceled out any interest in Wyatt Earp.
A horrible travesty. When I finally got around to seeing it the first time, Dennis Quaid's Doc Holliday made an immediate impression on me as a wonderfully sensational acting clinic, the best I'd ever seen from Quaid. The problem everyone else who's bothered to see the movie seems to have is that Val Kilmer had already stolen Tombstone in a charismatic (and arguably his best) performance of the same role. But as entertaining as Kilmer's Doc is, Quaid's is unquestionably better.
The same can be said of every other element. Don't get me wrong about Tombstone's Earp, Kurt Russell, who's frequently highly magnetic in his film appearances. It's just, Costner by definition has so much more to work with. His Earp is basically an antihero. If this were 2019, Wyatt Earp would be the angsty DCEU to Tombstone's MCU. Or in other words, Tombstone is in every sense the Disney version, the glossy traditional Hollywood take (and even feels in most respects as if it were released far earlier than 1993, an instant anachronism, as it were), and Wyatt Earp is the western as it might've become if it had landed better.
Indeed, it's one of those movies that just seems to become more timely as the years progress, and therefore timeless. It could just as easily have been that uneasy cinematic response to Black Lives Matter that never really happened until years into the movement (and even then most directly in a movie that's actually set in the past, Spike Lee's BlacKkKlansman), with an Earp who's as celebrated as he's reviled, frequently criticized as too violent in his pursuit of justice, even as events sometimes seem to prove his methods justified. That's what Tombstone and Wyatt Earp most have in common, trying to give the true history of the famous Gunfight at the OK Corral, have the heroes be less obviously heroic.
Wyatt Earp traces the whole arc of Earp's life (could almost be the ancestor to all those later movies that begin with a familiar character's childhood where previous depictions hadn't). Gene Hackman, who appeared in two other westerns during the same period, Unforgiven and The Quick and the Dead, both in fairly villainous roles, plays Earp's dad, a tough but loving father that draws out far greater nuance from Hackman, and puts his impulses to good use. He sets the tone for a family saga that drives the women crazy later in the movie (though the script, for such a long movie, doesn't really have much for the likes of Mare Willingham and Catherine O'Hara other than love and exasperation), though it gives good parts to brothers played by Michael Madsen, Linden Ashby (who has only one other notable role to his credit, Mortal Kombat's Johnny Cage, which he nailed), and a young Jim Caviezel.
The supporting cast is bursting with talent besides! Also featured, among others, are Bill Pullman and Tom Sizemore (in a role that doesn't merely require him to be a tough guy, for a change) as Ed and Bat Masterson, respectively, Mark Harmon as someone other than Gibbs, and Isabella Rossellini, who completes the excellent portrait of Doc Holliday as his frustrated lover, Big Nose Kate, plus Jeff Fahey as the head of the troublesome Clantons.
Earp's arc as a troubled lover is highlighted, his losses and triumphs, his yearning to escape the spotlight (one almost has the sense that the sentiment could also have been Costner's). The running time is entirely justified. This is an epic that tells an epic, but also completely human, tale. Costner isn't the romantic hero he so often was in this period, but the complete opposite, a man ground down past such illusions into messy real life, struggling to do the right thing, and not always succeeding.
Watching it again, especially in the context of so many other westerns, it's a revelation, especially set against, once again, Tombstone. Its only real competition, for me, against so many others, was The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (which is even better). The western, it seems, was only getting better with time. The more art infused, the less artifice, therefore justifying the genre's outsize placement in film lore. Directed by underrated icon Lawrence Kasdan.
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Unforgiven (1992)
rating: ***
the story: A gunslinger comes out of retirement.
review: This is one of those movies that looms large in aficionado circles, but has never particularly interested me. So I gave it another chance, and at least I can say I'm starting to enjoy Unforgiven.
I think mostly it's the kind of movie that's celebrated for what it meant rather than what it was. It was Clint Eastwood's final western (which, remarkably, remains true in 2019, and given his ever-advancing age, even if he remains as active as ever, isn't likely to ever change), and made at a time when westerns had somewhat definitively lost their role in the continuing lore of cinema, which made it instantly iconic if nothing else. This is not to say it isn't a good movie in and of itself, but that those fans who particularly identify with it (as fans of anything will do) are prone to exaggerating its worth.
I recently watched a slew of westerns, including a few of Eastwood's, and on the whole, I'm less interested in watching Unforgiven again than Pale Rider or Outlaw Josey Wales (which Unforgiven might be considered an unofficial sequel to, and all but functions as such). Among them was also the far less celebrated The Quick and the Dead, which in hindsight seems like a deliberate rephrasing of Unforgiven, but a bit more on that in a moment.
What's most interesting about Unforgiven is perhaps the idea that Eastwood's character isn't really a hero so much as an opportunist the audience has every chance to root on, so of course we're going to, while Gene Hackman's sheriff perhaps isn't as much a villain as he's made out to be, even though as far as the narrative goes, he certainly is. There's an unreliability to the whole thing that's pretty interesting to think about. Hackman's sheriff is perhaps most intriguing as a guy trying to do the right thing but badly botching it, which is something observers of politics would have plenty to say about, and as such there's an allegorical worth to the movie that's perhaps its best feature.
But strip away the legacy and it's a pretty rote experience (which is why I rated, a while ago, The Fugitive much the same way, because when it comes right down to it, the only thing that really stands out about it is Tommy Lee Jones, and pretty much just the "I don't care" line, which is admittedly brilliant, and brilliantly undermines the whole movie in the process, and leads to a whole movie with him as the acknowledged lead, but no one really cared about that, ironically). We don't even get a proper ending, but rather screen text. This is really just an exercise in setting up Eastwood's later career as an aging star. (Clearly it worked.)
But what's so interesting, really, is the Quick and the Dead connection. Lots of commenters have said that Sharon Stone is blatantly playing Eastwood's Man With No Name (though it would be interesting to hear fresh perspectives, now that Charlize Theron uses the exact voice in her action roles), but Gene Hackman plays a more bombastic version of his evil sheriff, and it plays much better the second time, without any confusion about what he is, and Leo DiCaprio plays a better version of the kid who's trying to make a name for himself, with the same basic notes being made there, too. It's harder to think of Russell Crowe's presence in Quick and the Dead, and perhaps the entirety of his popular career, without thinking of Eastwood, once you begin thinking about it. (It's worth arguing that even Eastwood borrowed the persona, possibly from Charlton Heston.)
In Unforgiven, you have a few notable supporting players. Saul Rubinek, who never quite broke out, for instance, and more notably Morgan Freeman, who was on the verge of exploding (which he would, two years later, in The Shawshank Redemption). And then there's Richard Harris. Harry Potter fans like me will forever be seeking out the original Dumbledore's earlier days, and here's an interesting one, as he portrays English Bob, who perhaps most accurately sums up the film as a depiction of American savages, barely grasping the concept of civilization, something a lot of westerns tried to illustrate, but seldom as, well, savagely.
the story: A gunslinger comes out of retirement.
review: This is one of those movies that looms large in aficionado circles, but has never particularly interested me. So I gave it another chance, and at least I can say I'm starting to enjoy Unforgiven.
I think mostly it's the kind of movie that's celebrated for what it meant rather than what it was. It was Clint Eastwood's final western (which, remarkably, remains true in 2019, and given his ever-advancing age, even if he remains as active as ever, isn't likely to ever change), and made at a time when westerns had somewhat definitively lost their role in the continuing lore of cinema, which made it instantly iconic if nothing else. This is not to say it isn't a good movie in and of itself, but that those fans who particularly identify with it (as fans of anything will do) are prone to exaggerating its worth.
I recently watched a slew of westerns, including a few of Eastwood's, and on the whole, I'm less interested in watching Unforgiven again than Pale Rider or Outlaw Josey Wales (which Unforgiven might be considered an unofficial sequel to, and all but functions as such). Among them was also the far less celebrated The Quick and the Dead, which in hindsight seems like a deliberate rephrasing of Unforgiven, but a bit more on that in a moment.
What's most interesting about Unforgiven is perhaps the idea that Eastwood's character isn't really a hero so much as an opportunist the audience has every chance to root on, so of course we're going to, while Gene Hackman's sheriff perhaps isn't as much a villain as he's made out to be, even though as far as the narrative goes, he certainly is. There's an unreliability to the whole thing that's pretty interesting to think about. Hackman's sheriff is perhaps most intriguing as a guy trying to do the right thing but badly botching it, which is something observers of politics would have plenty to say about, and as such there's an allegorical worth to the movie that's perhaps its best feature.
But strip away the legacy and it's a pretty rote experience (which is why I rated, a while ago, The Fugitive much the same way, because when it comes right down to it, the only thing that really stands out about it is Tommy Lee Jones, and pretty much just the "I don't care" line, which is admittedly brilliant, and brilliantly undermines the whole movie in the process, and leads to a whole movie with him as the acknowledged lead, but no one really cared about that, ironically). We don't even get a proper ending, but rather screen text. This is really just an exercise in setting up Eastwood's later career as an aging star. (Clearly it worked.)
But what's so interesting, really, is the Quick and the Dead connection. Lots of commenters have said that Sharon Stone is blatantly playing Eastwood's Man With No Name (though it would be interesting to hear fresh perspectives, now that Charlize Theron uses the exact voice in her action roles), but Gene Hackman plays a more bombastic version of his evil sheriff, and it plays much better the second time, without any confusion about what he is, and Leo DiCaprio plays a better version of the kid who's trying to make a name for himself, with the same basic notes being made there, too. It's harder to think of Russell Crowe's presence in Quick and the Dead, and perhaps the entirety of his popular career, without thinking of Eastwood, once you begin thinking about it. (It's worth arguing that even Eastwood borrowed the persona, possibly from Charlton Heston.)
In Unforgiven, you have a few notable supporting players. Saul Rubinek, who never quite broke out, for instance, and more notably Morgan Freeman, who was on the verge of exploding (which he would, two years later, in The Shawshank Redemption). And then there's Richard Harris. Harry Potter fans like me will forever be seeking out the original Dumbledore's earlier days, and here's an interesting one, as he portrays English Bob, who perhaps most accurately sums up the film as a depiction of American savages, barely grasping the concept of civilization, something a lot of westerns tried to illustrate, but seldom as, well, savagely.
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Get Out (2017)
rating: ****
the story: Chris finds out it's dangerous to be black among white folks with ulterior motives.
review: Wow, so this is a great example of knowing what a movie technically accomplishes, and getting a totally different grasp upon actually seeing it. Get Out, for me, was a victim of the vast scaling back of film watching I've experienced over the past decade. I was pretty out of control, generally speaking, for a few years. I went to the movies all the time. I had a pretty comprehensive sampling of what was released. Then I had to become more selective. I had to start making some snap judgments before movies ever hit theaters, including must-see picks and things that didn't seem like they were for me. Get Out seemed like it wasn't for me. It seemed like one of those movies hipsters like, that only seemed to be clever.
Boy was I wrong.
The surface elements are certainly there but even those underscore its greater message. It's funny that Get Out even had a chance to be widely celebrated, as it mocks liberal attitudes at a time when liberals have virtually succeeded in dominating popular entertainment, both the product and reception of it. But by the end, it becomes so savage as to become inexplicable. Clearly a lot of people just didn't get it. They chuckled knowingly, without comprehension.
You see, Chris's fate is damn ironic. That he ends up escaping it is much a part of how we've reached this endless public hysteria as anything that helped create it. When Bradley Whitford says he would've voted for Obama a third time if only given the option, which he repeats after Allison Williams has already told us he'd say so, director Jordan Peele has shown his hand. That's the whole message right there. Liberals somewhat liberally exploited black people to get the White House. Period. And then moved on, after everything spiraled out of control.
Yeah. Peele's ascent as filmmaker came from a popular sketch comedy series, Key & Peele, which can be felt in Chris's best friend, who hilariously puts the whole thing in context for viewers and comes to his rescue at the end. Chris himself, as portrayed by Daniel Kaluuya, is dumbfounded by the whole experience but never at a loss for action. The only time he's a victim is when Catherine Keener brainwashes him.
Stephen Root shows up in a supporting role, subverting his usual comedic persona by both leaning into and away from the stereotype Southern racist the movie never actually delivers. This is a horror movie with comedy instincts, not a comedy with horror instincts, not a parody. That's what makes the whole thing so refreshing, so subversive, and so biting. It might even be called satire. Probably the way it will properly be understood later.
So I'm glad I finally saw it.
the story: Chris finds out it's dangerous to be black among white folks with ulterior motives.
review: Wow, so this is a great example of knowing what a movie technically accomplishes, and getting a totally different grasp upon actually seeing it. Get Out, for me, was a victim of the vast scaling back of film watching I've experienced over the past decade. I was pretty out of control, generally speaking, for a few years. I went to the movies all the time. I had a pretty comprehensive sampling of what was released. Then I had to become more selective. I had to start making some snap judgments before movies ever hit theaters, including must-see picks and things that didn't seem like they were for me. Get Out seemed like it wasn't for me. It seemed like one of those movies hipsters like, that only seemed to be clever.
Boy was I wrong.
The surface elements are certainly there but even those underscore its greater message. It's funny that Get Out even had a chance to be widely celebrated, as it mocks liberal attitudes at a time when liberals have virtually succeeded in dominating popular entertainment, both the product and reception of it. But by the end, it becomes so savage as to become inexplicable. Clearly a lot of people just didn't get it. They chuckled knowingly, without comprehension.
You see, Chris's fate is damn ironic. That he ends up escaping it is much a part of how we've reached this endless public hysteria as anything that helped create it. When Bradley Whitford says he would've voted for Obama a third time if only given the option, which he repeats after Allison Williams has already told us he'd say so, director Jordan Peele has shown his hand. That's the whole message right there. Liberals somewhat liberally exploited black people to get the White House. Period. And then moved on, after everything spiraled out of control.
Yeah. Peele's ascent as filmmaker came from a popular sketch comedy series, Key & Peele, which can be felt in Chris's best friend, who hilariously puts the whole thing in context for viewers and comes to his rescue at the end. Chris himself, as portrayed by Daniel Kaluuya, is dumbfounded by the whole experience but never at a loss for action. The only time he's a victim is when Catherine Keener brainwashes him.
Stephen Root shows up in a supporting role, subverting his usual comedic persona by both leaning into and away from the stereotype Southern racist the movie never actually delivers. This is a horror movie with comedy instincts, not a comedy with horror instincts, not a parody. That's what makes the whole thing so refreshing, so subversive, and so biting. It might even be called satire. Probably the way it will properly be understood later.
So I'm glad I finally saw it.
Saturday, October 19, 2019
Under the Silver Lake (2019)
rating: ****
the story: A struggling LA resident finds himself deep in the midst of a wild conspiracy.
review: Essentially Once Upon a Time in Hollywood without Tarantino, a sort of love letter to Hollywood culture. Under the Silver Lake is a one man spotlight for Andrew Garfield, letting him drift through the film and its kaleidoscope of craziness, in the process giving director David Robert Mitchell his highest profile movie yet.
Garfield has been a highlight in the movies for about a decade at this point, but two Spider-Man movies that weren't especially well received meant his profile began to suffer. Silver Lake is a reminder of his appeal. The movie, and the music around him, is a vision of Hollywood that only Hollywood itself could conjure, full of beautiful women and logic that makes little or no sense, except that it somehow does, and explains everything from pop music to the fates of the obscenely rich.
What's most impressive about the movie is that it's sort of classic noir, too. Not noir in the way you usually think, whether because you still think of noir for its black and white roots (such as recent examples like The Man Who Wasn't There and The Good German, wrongly dismissed as a Casablanca knockoff because...it features Nazis, and a romance), or general style (as in Brick, which I've never been able to entirely enjoy despite appreciating its overall achievement), but approach, which again, is why we follow Garfield around, and listen to the particular noir-style musical score accompanying him.
The result is a mood piece. Garfield is not a detective, but sort of stumbles into becoming one, as he attempts to solve a bizarre conspiracy theory. One of the running plot points is that he's going to be evicted because he's failed to make rent, but he never seems especially concerned about it. He exists in a wonderland where the only real concerns are ephemeral, and he doesn't mind the eventual solution to his real problem, even if he seems to have had many better ones available.
All of it really means that whatever Mitchell does next, I'll be paying attention.
the story: A struggling LA resident finds himself deep in the midst of a wild conspiracy.
review: Essentially Once Upon a Time in Hollywood without Tarantino, a sort of love letter to Hollywood culture. Under the Silver Lake is a one man spotlight for Andrew Garfield, letting him drift through the film and its kaleidoscope of craziness, in the process giving director David Robert Mitchell his highest profile movie yet.
Garfield has been a highlight in the movies for about a decade at this point, but two Spider-Man movies that weren't especially well received meant his profile began to suffer. Silver Lake is a reminder of his appeal. The movie, and the music around him, is a vision of Hollywood that only Hollywood itself could conjure, full of beautiful women and logic that makes little or no sense, except that it somehow does, and explains everything from pop music to the fates of the obscenely rich.
What's most impressive about the movie is that it's sort of classic noir, too. Not noir in the way you usually think, whether because you still think of noir for its black and white roots (such as recent examples like The Man Who Wasn't There and The Good German, wrongly dismissed as a Casablanca knockoff because...it features Nazis, and a romance), or general style (as in Brick, which I've never been able to entirely enjoy despite appreciating its overall achievement), but approach, which again, is why we follow Garfield around, and listen to the particular noir-style musical score accompanying him.
The result is a mood piece. Garfield is not a detective, but sort of stumbles into becoming one, as he attempts to solve a bizarre conspiracy theory. One of the running plot points is that he's going to be evicted because he's failed to make rent, but he never seems especially concerned about it. He exists in a wonderland where the only real concerns are ephemeral, and he doesn't mind the eventual solution to his real problem, even if he seems to have had many better ones available.
All of it really means that whatever Mitchell does next, I'll be paying attention.
Sorry to Bother You (2018)
rating: ****
the story: A black man encounters the full absurdity of the workforce.
review: Director Boots Riley was worried about comparisons to other black filmmakers, but I think Sorry to Bother You will enjoy its greater legacy in comparison to other workplace comedies, chiefly Mike Judge's Office Space (1999).
Riley's perspective stems from the fact that on its surface, Sorry to Bother You comes from the same recent surge of black filmmaking as Get Out (2017). On the surface, its story arc is chiefly concerned with the role of black people in white society. But it can be a universal message, too. By the time the movie reaches the concept of equisapiens, I think my point has been proven.
I mean, equisapiens, right?
Maybe my greater point is that you don't need to be black to enjoy the movie itself? That seems needlessly reductive. You don't need to be black to understand it, either, you don't need to be black to enjoy it, and you don't need to be black to get something meaningful from it. I mean, on the one hand it seems to be satire from a black perspective, but it's also...just satire. Hilarious satire. I mean, equisapiens. That's an iconic movie image regardless of context, but the context grounds it, too, even while it's so absurd that the whole movie might end up being remembered for it.
The cast is impeccable. I caught Lakeith Stanfield in a supporting role in Girl in the Spider's Web (2018), and he was compelling even in a fairly limited capacity. Here, in the lead role, he remains so. Tessa Thompson is fast becoming one of my favorites. She stands out in everything. Armie Hammer has found new life as a supporting actor. Danny Glover and Steve Yeun are among a strong supporting cast. Patton Oswalt and David Cross are hilarious as a few of the "white voices" in another of the film's hilarious digs at society at large.
Basically, a movie that succeeds well past its initial goals.
the story: A black man encounters the full absurdity of the workforce.
review: Director Boots Riley was worried about comparisons to other black filmmakers, but I think Sorry to Bother You will enjoy its greater legacy in comparison to other workplace comedies, chiefly Mike Judge's Office Space (1999).
Riley's perspective stems from the fact that on its surface, Sorry to Bother You comes from the same recent surge of black filmmaking as Get Out (2017). On the surface, its story arc is chiefly concerned with the role of black people in white society. But it can be a universal message, too. By the time the movie reaches the concept of equisapiens, I think my point has been proven.
I mean, equisapiens, right?
Maybe my greater point is that you don't need to be black to enjoy the movie itself? That seems needlessly reductive. You don't need to be black to understand it, either, you don't need to be black to enjoy it, and you don't need to be black to get something meaningful from it. I mean, on the one hand it seems to be satire from a black perspective, but it's also...just satire. Hilarious satire. I mean, equisapiens. That's an iconic movie image regardless of context, but the context grounds it, too, even while it's so absurd that the whole movie might end up being remembered for it.
The cast is impeccable. I caught Lakeith Stanfield in a supporting role in Girl in the Spider's Web (2018), and he was compelling even in a fairly limited capacity. Here, in the lead role, he remains so. Tessa Thompson is fast becoming one of my favorites. She stands out in everything. Armie Hammer has found new life as a supporting actor. Danny Glover and Steve Yeun are among a strong supporting cast. Patton Oswalt and David Cross are hilarious as a few of the "white voices" in another of the film's hilarious digs at society at large.
Basically, a movie that succeeds well past its initial goals.
Operation: Finale (2018)
rating: ****
the story: The capture of Adolf Eichmann in Argentina by Mossad agents.
review: One of my favorite historical dramas, in fact one of my favorite movies in general, is Spielberg's Munich (2005), a triumph in pretty much every regard. Operation Finale is a very different movie, but both share the idea of horror at the world their characters are forced to inhabit, which in both cases is the real world, and as such are both all the more compelling for it. Operation Finale is a story of the Holocaust, but instead of focusing on the Holocaust itself (such as with, say, Schindler's List), it centers on the decades that lay ahead, of the people who were affected by it, or in Eichmann's case, helped make it happen.
The most stunning thing about the film is how Eichmann himself is presented. Ben Kingsley is a famously charismatic chameleon. He brings that quality to Eichmann, whom we catch up with already ensconced in his literally new life (with a new name and family) in Argentina. We see an Argentina where Nazis still exist, holding rallies with the same hateful bluster, something history has tended to gloss over (the musical Evita covers a version of events). The movie is mostly concerned with Eichmann himself, and the Mossad agent, played by Oscar Isaac, who finds himself in the unlikely position of convincing Eichmann to agree to stand trial in Israel.
Isaac has emerged in recent years as a reliable film presence, still searching for a truly breakout lead performance despite a wealth of interesting roles behind him. He often appears as ambiguous figures, which is perhaps what allows him to pull off this particularly tricky part. His scenes with Kingsley are the heart of the movie, and both actors deliver. Will Eichmann agree to stand trial, despite every attempt to justify himself as a mere bureaucrat (in so many words)?
Director Chris Weitz (a bit of a chameleon himself, with a track record as varied as About a Boy and Twilight Saga: New Moon) is able to find the right balance, and is wise enough to give Isaac roadblocks, but remove them as necessary. This is a rare trait in such storytelling, often wrongly pursued with the belief that increased use of roadblocks increases the drama, when it only proves how little faith there is in other elements.
(Among the supporting cast is Melanie Laurant, who appeared in another WWII movie, albeit a far different one, Inglourious Basterds.)
By the time Isaas is just another observer, as we glimpse the trial itself, we already know that Operation Finale has done exactly what it set out to accomplish: give audiences the outrage of the Holocaust at exactly the banal level Eichmann himself was said to represent.
the story: The capture of Adolf Eichmann in Argentina by Mossad agents.
review: One of my favorite historical dramas, in fact one of my favorite movies in general, is Spielberg's Munich (2005), a triumph in pretty much every regard. Operation Finale is a very different movie, but both share the idea of horror at the world their characters are forced to inhabit, which in both cases is the real world, and as such are both all the more compelling for it. Operation Finale is a story of the Holocaust, but instead of focusing on the Holocaust itself (such as with, say, Schindler's List), it centers on the decades that lay ahead, of the people who were affected by it, or in Eichmann's case, helped make it happen.
The most stunning thing about the film is how Eichmann himself is presented. Ben Kingsley is a famously charismatic chameleon. He brings that quality to Eichmann, whom we catch up with already ensconced in his literally new life (with a new name and family) in Argentina. We see an Argentina where Nazis still exist, holding rallies with the same hateful bluster, something history has tended to gloss over (the musical Evita covers a version of events). The movie is mostly concerned with Eichmann himself, and the Mossad agent, played by Oscar Isaac, who finds himself in the unlikely position of convincing Eichmann to agree to stand trial in Israel.
Isaac has emerged in recent years as a reliable film presence, still searching for a truly breakout lead performance despite a wealth of interesting roles behind him. He often appears as ambiguous figures, which is perhaps what allows him to pull off this particularly tricky part. His scenes with Kingsley are the heart of the movie, and both actors deliver. Will Eichmann agree to stand trial, despite every attempt to justify himself as a mere bureaucrat (in so many words)?
Director Chris Weitz (a bit of a chameleon himself, with a track record as varied as About a Boy and Twilight Saga: New Moon) is able to find the right balance, and is wise enough to give Isaac roadblocks, but remove them as necessary. This is a rare trait in such storytelling, often wrongly pursued with the belief that increased use of roadblocks increases the drama, when it only proves how little faith there is in other elements.
(Among the supporting cast is Melanie Laurant, who appeared in another WWII movie, albeit a far different one, Inglourious Basterds.)
By the time Isaas is just another observer, as we glimpse the trial itself, we already know that Operation Finale has done exactly what it set out to accomplish: give audiences the outrage of the Holocaust at exactly the banal level Eichmann himself was said to represent.
Sunday, October 6, 2019
Joker (2019)
rating: ****
the story: Arthur Fleck begins to suspect his life is a comedy.
review: Toss Andy Kaufman, Heath Ledger's Joker, Taxi Driver, and You Were Never Really Here into a blender, and you would get Joker. The result is greater than the sum of its parts, and completely justifies making a movie about Batman's most famous nemesis, something Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight, virtually was, based on Ledger's show-stopping Joker.
You Were Never Really Here also stars Joaquin Phoenix, by the way, in a role that almost combines the concept of Batman and the Joker (at least as represented in Joker), a man living with his mother and meting out terrible vengeance. Phoenix doesn't make any effort to duplicate Ledger's performance; visually the similarities begin and end with the stringy hair we see Arthur Fleck, late in the movie, dye green. The makeup is halfway between Ledger's and your average circus clown (and we see him apply that, too; no chemical baths in this story, thank you).
Director Todd Phillips (previously best known for the Hangover trilogy before branching out with War Dogs) was vocal about evoking Scorsese; that's your Taxi Driver connection (the social commentary is there, too, demonstrated best by Peter Boyle in perhaps his best role), other than Robert De Niro himself, sounding like Lawrence Welk as a Gotham late night TV host. Brett Cullen, who appeared in a different role for Nolan's Dark Knight Rises, puts a sinister spin on Thomas Wayne (you know, Batman's dad), an elite who thinks he knows what's best for the poor but won't associate with them if he can help it, including viciously cutting off Arthur's mom when her problems prove too complicated. Zazie Beetz (for the second time, following Deadpool 2) puts in another small but knockout supporting role as a would-be love interest for the erstwhile Joker.
And, Andy Kaufman? Today he's best remembered for the Jim Carrey movie Man on the Moon, but his whole career was defined by defying logic, rebelling against expectations. Arthur may not be intentionally following in his footsteps, but that's the best way to explain his reality, including a misguided sidestep into standup comedy that most feels like Kaufman.
This is another 2019 movie (after Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) that feels like a classic in the making that I'm not ready to dub quite yet. It's got better viewing appeal than You Were Never Really Here (a relentless tone that alienates the viewer), and mesmerizes in its descent into madness, as it spirals to the inevitable. This may not become the definitive Joker, but it will be the definitive Joker story; it will be impossible to beat. The movie is set in the '80s, but feels as if it's ripped from the playbook of the modern era, in which riots are well-intentioned but...still riots. Heroes are hard to find, and even those who stumble into the role seem more like villains. Arthur Fleck is the hero we deserve but don't need. Wasn't that said about somebody else? Something like that?
Anyway, Joker will be a definitive film for this era, regardless of its ultimate worth.
the story: Arthur Fleck begins to suspect his life is a comedy.
review: Toss Andy Kaufman, Heath Ledger's Joker, Taxi Driver, and You Were Never Really Here into a blender, and you would get Joker. The result is greater than the sum of its parts, and completely justifies making a movie about Batman's most famous nemesis, something Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight, virtually was, based on Ledger's show-stopping Joker.
You Were Never Really Here also stars Joaquin Phoenix, by the way, in a role that almost combines the concept of Batman and the Joker (at least as represented in Joker), a man living with his mother and meting out terrible vengeance. Phoenix doesn't make any effort to duplicate Ledger's performance; visually the similarities begin and end with the stringy hair we see Arthur Fleck, late in the movie, dye green. The makeup is halfway between Ledger's and your average circus clown (and we see him apply that, too; no chemical baths in this story, thank you).
Director Todd Phillips (previously best known for the Hangover trilogy before branching out with War Dogs) was vocal about evoking Scorsese; that's your Taxi Driver connection (the social commentary is there, too, demonstrated best by Peter Boyle in perhaps his best role), other than Robert De Niro himself, sounding like Lawrence Welk as a Gotham late night TV host. Brett Cullen, who appeared in a different role for Nolan's Dark Knight Rises, puts a sinister spin on Thomas Wayne (you know, Batman's dad), an elite who thinks he knows what's best for the poor but won't associate with them if he can help it, including viciously cutting off Arthur's mom when her problems prove too complicated. Zazie Beetz (for the second time, following Deadpool 2) puts in another small but knockout supporting role as a would-be love interest for the erstwhile Joker.
And, Andy Kaufman? Today he's best remembered for the Jim Carrey movie Man on the Moon, but his whole career was defined by defying logic, rebelling against expectations. Arthur may not be intentionally following in his footsteps, but that's the best way to explain his reality, including a misguided sidestep into standup comedy that most feels like Kaufman.
This is another 2019 movie (after Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) that feels like a classic in the making that I'm not ready to dub quite yet. It's got better viewing appeal than You Were Never Really Here (a relentless tone that alienates the viewer), and mesmerizes in its descent into madness, as it spirals to the inevitable. This may not become the definitive Joker, but it will be the definitive Joker story; it will be impossible to beat. The movie is set in the '80s, but feels as if it's ripped from the playbook of the modern era, in which riots are well-intentioned but...still riots. Heroes are hard to find, and even those who stumble into the role seem more like villains. Arthur Fleck is the hero we deserve but don't need. Wasn't that said about somebody else? Something like that?
Anyway, Joker will be a definitive film for this era, regardless of its ultimate worth.
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