Just watched...

...Terrence Malick's 2011 masterpiece "The Tree Of Life."

I had been meaning to see Malick’s “The Tree Of Life” ever since it came out in 2011 and won the Palme d’Or at Cannes. I love Malick’s films, and I have “The Thin Red Line” listed on my All-Time Favorite Films List to the right on this page. But after hearing a lot of general grousing about this film, I was a little anxious. I had hoped it was not “incomprehensible” as many critics claimed. Even the word “pretentious” was leveled at it. But that actually gave me a clue as to what to expect. I have noticed, after my many years of being here on this planet, that when people sneer slightly and use the word “pretentious” to describe a piece of art—film, painting, sculpture, dance, etc.—they might as well be saying “I’m too stupid to understand what that was about. I suspect as much and that threatens me because I don’t want to appear stupid. So I am going to attack it and set myself higher.” I am not saying that a piece of art can’t fail, can’t lack for anything, or can’t fall short of its aim. If that is the case, it is better to be specific… as specific as possible. Calling something “pretentious” just does not cut it. What about it made you think it was pretentious? Was the story convoluted? In what way? Did you feel pieces of the narrative were left out or not alluded to? Were there leaps in logic that did not make sense? Did you feel the theme was unfulfilled because of costume choices, lighting choices, music choices? Was the acting flat or unbelievable? Was the melody based on something else or uninspired altogether? Did it fail to engender emotion in you? WHY? Just saying that something is “pretentious” is not enough. If you make a sweeping dismissive comment without anything to back it up, then you look like the fool you are trying not to be. And if you automatically label anything that is trying to say something profound as “pretentious,” that is proof that you can’t grasp larger concepts. To make a large-concept piece of art, the artist, whether novelist or director or composer, must reach, must take the risk and work on a grand scale. Profundity is not automatic grounds for criticism or penalty but there are many who are threatened by such vision. I don't think I have ever earnestly used the word "pretentious" in my life. It is a meaningless, hollow word for me.

Terrence Malick was a philosophy major under Stanley Cavell at Harvard University and graduated summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa so it is only natural that he would involve very large concepts in his original screenplays and films. As I mentioned above, “The Thin Red Line” is one of my favorite films and considering his background, it is clear to see in that film existential ideas translated into poetry… cleverly disguised as a war film (at the end of the day, it is anything but). When an artist makes a large-concept statement, I like to pay attention. It is rare to begin with that someone dares to make a large-concept statement and it shouldn’t be dismissed with an easy wave of the hand as “pretentious.” And “The Tree Of Life” is one of the largest artistic statements I have ever seen on film. The scope, the intent, the vastness of what Malick conveys in it is breathtaking, heart-stopping, mind boggling. I don’t want to give away too much detail. As I have said here on “Oh, By The Way” in past film reviews, I don’t want to take away the special experience of seeing a film for the first time, seeing a film the way the director intended, for everything to come at you fresh. I will say that on the surface, and really, it is only the surface, the film is a study of a rather dysfunctional family in Texas in the 1950s and 60s. Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain are stunning as Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien. Having said that, I assure you the point of this film is not the family themselves, and I have not given anything away in this magical film. No, not magical...magical is diminutive. That word makes it sounds like something for children. It is… it is holy. And I absolutely do not mean that in an “organized religion” way. It is holy in the sense of "transcendent." Malick has dared to tell a story that transcends itself. It references a reality and truth that renders the story into its own context, and by extension, does so for all of our lives. We all exist in our own context but belong to something much, much, much larger; something we cannot hold in our minds for long without losing hold of where we are, who we are, what we do, what we wish for and live for. But there it is. That is the truth. The film encompasses and is a survey of this duel nature of the universe itself ("grace" and "nature"), of creation and destruction and the very human, mistaken way of seeing those two things as separate entities. Remember: transcendence. Despite the fact that characters in the film are religious and talk to “God,” the film is decidedly anti-religion with the juxtaposition of individual lives and situations against the beginning and end of our solar system. How ridiculous to talk to a pretend man in the sky and ask questions about "why" things do or don't happen when all around us screams and reels the workings of the cosmos itself through the birth of stars in stellar nurseries, the evolution of life, and the eventual entropy and collapse of all. There is an enormous difference between "religion" and "spirit"... they are separated by light years.

The impressionistic, non-linear narrative of "The Tree Of Life" reminds me somewhat of Tarkovsky’s “The Mirror” in that it is an assortment, a mélange, a kaleidoscope of experiences, memories, thoughts, fantasies. And not just of one person, as in the case of "The Mirror," but of a group of people. Just like “The Mirror,” telling a story this way is very dream-like and creates a direct path to the pre-conscious. And in this way, “The Tree Of Life” is one of the few films in the history of cinema that are actually purely cinematic, just like dreams. Film is a visual medium and Malick uses it to his full advantage, giving us a vast expanse of information and ideas visually, without much dialogue. When people speak in the film, or more commonly when we hear their whispered thoughts and inner monologue, it is as if someone has called your name while you are asleep. Dreams can only convey a narrative or an idea to us in one way: it shows us pictures. A dream can’t—and indeed does not need to—tell us what it wants us to know, it shows us. That is the language of signifiers. That is the primordial, pre-conscious language of our psyches, our souls. That is our first, original language before words. Watch. Look. See. Understand. We are given everything Malick wants us to grasp, but not in a way that matters on this physical plane. While the visuals are gorgeous and pristinely filmed—the film is a miraculous, true study of present moments (the way Tarkovsky studied rain hitting a tree leaf, for example)— and the special effects are some of the best I have ever seen, one must interpret and feel “The Tree Of Life” for it to work.

Recommend? If any of this review resonates with you, if any of what I have said strikes a chord with you, then please, by all means, partake of this transcendent artistic experience. Invest in it.
Watch. Look. See. Understand.

http://www.twowaysthroughlife.com/
http://www.foxsearchlight.com/thetreeoflife/

Just watched...

..."Oz, The Great and Powerful" with James Franco, Mila Kunis, Michelle Williams, and Rachel Weisz.

I went to this film hopeful, full of nostalgia, and with childhood memories of watching "The Wizard of Oz" on television. I was hopeful that it would not be one of those dreadful "modern re-tellings" of classic fairy tales that have vexed us of late, unnecessary films like "Red Riding Hood" and "Snow White and the Huntsman." Of course what kills these modern re-tellings is the "tween-ization" of perfectly good material. Note to producers and directors: we do not need the Brothers Grimm put through a "Twilight Saga" filter. Stop it. Just don't.

So I was more than pleasantly surprised to see that this was not a "re-telling" or a "re-boot" or a "re-anything." It is technically a prequel, but done in a way that is completely faithful to the lore of the original story. It retains a colorful lightness that is totally lost in the other current fairy tale "re-tellings." We get references to characters and places we know very well through the 1939 film version. We even get to see Munchkins! And more importantly, we get to see events unfold that lay the foundation for what happens in the '39 film. I found it very fun, very satisfying, and a bit sad that things turned out the way they did. It makes complete sense, but it left me sad for all parties involved since things did not have to take an ugly turn. But it has to be, since the '39 film version shows us the second chapter, the foundations of which are built for us here in this charming, modern prequel.

The art direction is perfect. The Yellow Brick Road looks exactly how it should along with the Emerald City and a host of familiar places and characters. The trio of women (Mila Kunis, Michelle Williams, and Rachel Weisz) were lovely and never step into cartoon territory. My only small quibble is with the casting of The Wizard himself. Now, I want to preface this by saying I like James Franco. I really do. I think he is a very good actor. But I feel he is a very 21st century actor, very contemporary... he plays a good stoner, he was marvelous in "127 Hours" but here, in something that requires a kind of classical quality, a kind of timeless manner, he just doesn't fit. He was fine, he made no mis-steps. But I can't help but think that the role needed someone a little...oh, a little more 1939... does that make sense?

Recommend? Oh, yes. It is all great fun!

http://disney.go.com/thewizard/

Just watched...

...Tarsem Singh's dark fairy tale "The Fall."

Tarsem Singh has been on my radar since his first film "The Cell" which was a highly stylized hallucinatory exploration of the psyche of a serial killer. Unfortunately it starred Jennifer Lopez, but she was sufficient and did not detract from the dazzling imagery and the spectacle of the film (and no, she did not play the serial killer--that choice role went to phenomenal actor Vincent D'Onofrio). Singh's follow-up film to "The Cell" was a remake of a Bulgairan film called "Yo Ho Ho" and although I have not seen the original, I can tell that it is nothing at all close to what Tarsem Singh created. Again using grand sets, some built, most real locations, that are startling and surreal, along with costumes by legendary designer Eiko Ishioka (who passed away just last year) who also created the mind-blowing costumes for "The Cell," Singh made another film that is a glimpse into a world of supreme beauty and imagination. Singh's work tangentially reminds me of Greenaway's films in that they are not so much filmed as much as they are composed, like a great painting... each shot meticulously designed and executed.

The narrative takes place between two levels of reality. The first level is at a hospital in southern California in the 1920s where a young stuntman in silent films who has been injured executing a stunt tells a story to a little girl who is recovering from a broken arm. The second level is the reality of the story itself, as it transpires in the little girl's imagination and heart, and by extension, in the mind and heart of the story teller. The dramatic tension comes from the overlapping and intertwining of these two levels of reality. It is fascinating to see how the events in a made up story can alter the "real world." The result is touching, adventurous, funny, and a little cruel.

Actor Lee Pace is excellent as the troubled stunt man and then-five year old Romanian actress Catinca Utaru is a lovely little miracle to watch. Most of the scenes between her and Pace were improvised; as Pace told the story, Catinca's reactions are authentic, and, according to the bonus features and what I have read of the filming process, only marginally shaped and guided by Singh. Many of their scenes were filmed through a slit made in the hospital drapes hanging around the beds, so as not to distract Catinca from her interaction with Pace.

While it is a supremely magical film, I will note that some scenes were lifted, almost identically so, from the great film "Baraka." Singh did a similar thing in "The Cell" with certain scenes modeled after classic or surreal paintings. I can understand that as an homage to a great work of art or artist. To recreate a painting on film seems to be still somehow authentic. But lifting imagery--nearly exactly--from another film (without a reason or some sort of internal logic in the film) seems a bit like cheating. But I will say that while I was struck each time it happened ("My god," I said out loud, "that is a scene right from 'Baraka'!"), it did not derail me out of the film. There is certainly enough original imagery and spell-binding art direction to keep anyone riveted (maybe the fact that the rest of it is so original and interesting makes the lifting of "Baraka" material that much more puzzling).

Recommend? YES!

http://www.thefallthemovie.com

Just watched...

...the very recent "Silver Linings Playbook" with Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.

For the SAG awards, since I am a voting SAG member, I received a screener copy of "Silver Linings Playbook" and it turned out to be a peculiar experience. I did not know too much about the film going into it, which is how I usually like to see a film. I want to experience it and have it unfold for me as the screenwriter and director intended. In an effort to give you roughly that same experience (which I generally try to do in any film or book review here on "Oh, By The Way"), Bradley Cooper plays a young man who is bi-polar. It seems like a formula for an Academy Award nomination, or even win. Characters who are mentally unstable or who have handicaps are usually sure-fire Academy fodder. But watching it was another story. It seemed at first like it was going to be a statement or exploration of bi-polarism or mental illness, perhaps commenting on the stigma that is still attached to such issues or how people with such conditions are treated. But then it seemed like it wanted to be a family drama. Well, I guess those two areas often go hand in hand. But then it seemed like it wanted to be a romantic comedy. And then it was a feel-good, can-do movie. And then... well, I don't know, it got a bit muddied by then. Are there good performances? Yes. Bradley Cooper is good and Jennifer Lawrence really stands out. De Niro seems a bit wasted, but whatever... he adds some nice texture. And was it an interesting story? Well, yes. But it just felt, stylistically speaking, disjointed. Still good. Just... peculiarly cobbled together, as though a different writer and director stepped in every 15 minutes...

Recommend? Um... okay, yeah sure.

http://silverliningsplaybookmovie.com/

Just watched...

“Argo” directed by and starring Ben Affleck.

Because I am a member of the Screen Actor’s Guild (it does say "Actor" in my profile, right?), as well as the American Federation of Television and Radio Actors since the two unions recently merged, I get screener copies of SAG Award nominated films each year (producers and the union understand screener copies help in the voting), and it is a nice way to catch up on films I have yet to see. And the awards are coming up quickly…

My first screener film to arrive in the mail was “Argo” and I was not at all prepared for how truly engrossing and effective this film is. Despite the fact that it is based on actual real world events, the outcome of which we already know, it still felt alive, immediate, and incredibly suspenseful. It felt like anything could happen. And that is good film making.

As some readers who are old enough to recall (as I do quite vividly), when the Shah was overthrown in Iran in 1979, the revolutionaries stormed the US Embassy in Tehran and took hostages. The kidnapping of those men and women lasted over 400 days. But a small group of six American embassy workers managed to escape and hid out in the Canadian Embassy, until a very out-of-the-box-thinking CIA operative dreamed up a plan to fly into Iran and rescue the six. The plan revolved around creating a fictitious film production company, using an actual Hollywood script, faking Canadian passports, and marching the group out, right under the noses of the guards at the airport.

Ben Affleck did a superb job directing, giving it an air of the type of film that rarely gets made anymore. Indeed it is a filmic homage to the 70s, the last period of quality films from Hollywood. It opens with a vintage Warner Brothers logo (the three slashes that make a “W”) and I squealed, “I haven’t seen that in a long time!” There are of course a lot of production design touches to enhance the 70s feeling, like costume and music. But I can’t emphasize enough how the film relies—refreshingly—on narrative, suspense, and character, like they used to, instead of chase scenes or explosions. The entire cast is very good as well, and added to the tension and verisimilitude of the story.

There has been some criticism of the film, mostly about how it downplays the role of the Canadians in the rescue. Looking at historical fact, this seems to be true, but it does not spoil my enjoyment of the film. I am willing to give bigger thanks to our neighbors in the north for the "Canadian Caper" as it is now known, and acknowledge their extremely vital role. I also understand how films condense and edit stories for the sake of clarity, time, and overall flow. Affleck has since put a comment at the end of the film acknowledging Canada's role.

The remaining criticism is aimed at how one-sided the Iranian people are shown in the film. I can’t see that so much. I am aware, first hand, of how the Iranian people were made up of many who were Westernized, forward thinking, and liberal. In 1979, I met several people who got out of the country while they could—just before and immediately after the ousting of the Shah. The film actually does show one of the characters managing to get out of the country, so we are made aware that there was a segment of the population who saw what was coming and wanted no part of it. I know there are people still there who would love to escape. And I have a current Persian friend, whose family did get out just in time, who had no problem with how her people are portrayed in the film. So that aspect did not bother me. But let’s not forget that the rest of the American embassy workers, along with many civilians, and some non-Americans—52 of them in all—were held for 444 days; if the film is one-sided, which I feel it is not, that is a good reason to remember the events, and the people who perpetrated them, with gravitas. The film feels alive and immediate because, sadly, we find ourselves decades later in very similar territory, what with the Libyan Embassy, turmoil in the Muslim world, and continued strained relations with Iran. The events of the film could have happened last month, or perhaps will happen again.

(And on a completely personal and superficial note, Ben Affleck looks amazingly sexy with that shaggy hair and beard! In fact, he has never looked better. Yowsa!)

Recommend? YES!

http://argothemovie.warnerbros.com/#home

Just watched...

…"The Hunger Games," to see what all the fuss was about.

I did not read the Suzanne Collins novel the film is based on, and now that I have seen the film, I am not very motivated to read any of the trilogy.

I knew some things going into this film, such as the book was aimed at a young/tween audience (as is the film), there was some controversy about the violence, and that it takes place in a dystopian future a hundred plus years off. Okay, I can be on board with those things, I can work with that. Could be interesting...

But right from the beginning, I found myself on shaky ground. The film tosses off, on precious few title cards, an extremely brief explanation of how things got to be the way they are. Something something war, something uprising, kids fight to the death, something or other… and here we go. Okay, WHOA, slow the roll. Say what now?

But suddenly there I was in a future whose premise made absolutely no sense whatsoever. The mechanics of it all do get a little bit more fleshed out than that, but not by much. Apparently there was a citizen uprising many years ago, and in order to quell any such future uprisings, the fascistic government in power, once a year, takes a boy and a girl from each of the Dust-Bowl-poverty-stricken twelve districts of the nation (no longer called United States of America, but Panem), brings them to the ultra-wealthy Capitol, and drops them into a televised gladiator game to the death. SERIOUSLY.

Now, there are so many things wrong with this that I had trouble focusing on the film. I am aware that in literature for children and young adults, there is a great tradition of children and youngsters in the stories going it alone, fighting odds, doing heroic things, without the aid of adults, or often, despite the active hindrance of adults. It is to show children and young adults that they have power, that they can be brave and thoughtful and loyal, that they can figure things out too, to teach them a sense of independence. It is present in books for very young children, like the classic WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, where Max faces down a forest of untamed and ferocious animals. And then look at the HARRY POTTER series, for more advanced readers. The adults in the story, even the magical adults, are rather helpless, clueless, and stand by while Harry, Ron, and Hermione plow head long into one dangerous and literally life-threatening adventure after another. But the trio face evil itself in the bravest test of friendship and courage that could make adults shrink in fear. So yes, this theme is employed in literature for children and young adults. But creating a story where 12 to 18 year old young people are slaughtered by adults for their enjoyment oversteps the boundary of the established motif. I simply cannot imagine a culture, even a depraved and callous one, shrugging their shoulders and giving up young children to be tortured, stabbed, blown up, burned, and torn asunder by wild animals. The book, and of course by extension, the film posits that this is done by the government to prevent another uprising among the people. I cannot think of anything that would undoubtedly CAUSE an uprising more than to take helpless children and kill them. When “the people” have nothing left to lose, they will find a way to topple the regime. The fact that the population of this country has been sitting idly by for 74 years while this corporate-sponsored infanticide has been going on is bizarre. Now, I know some people would counter me with examples of the daily and systematic destruction of children around the world, in Africa, in the Middle East, even here in America, in Sandy Hook for example. And of course those things happen but they are not ritualized, glorified, held up as a “common good,” and broadcast as a “game” on television. I am fairly sure that such a culture, were it to exist, would not exist for long because, at its core, the psyche of that culture would be sick. It would not be able to sustain itself.

Okay, now that I have complained about the premise itself, it doesn’t change the fact that that is what the story is. From that point, I will say that the book, and again by extension the film has been touted as being a critique of government control and the cult of reality television, while commenting on issues of feminism, religion, poverty, and war. I saw nothing of that. Yes, it is true that the children are part of a reality television show for which they are groomed and trained like a twisted version of “The Voice” or “Dancing With The Stars.” And this particular game show results in the death of 23 contestants with only one winner. You’d think that would be a searing commentary on our current mindless culture of being voted off/ “Real Housewives of No-One-Really-Cares-Where”/”Big Brother” but it is not. If that is what the filmmakers were aiming for, they missed it, and not by “just-this-much” but by pretty far.

All in all, a mentally, emotionally, and spiritually frustrating experience. And I am sure, from what I have read, this is not a case of the film straying too far from the book (I understand that the violence was toned down for the film!). I can however separate out some worthwhile filmic elements such as acting (the kids—and some of the adults—did just fine with what they had to do), production design (which ranges from WPA Dorothea Lange photographic recreations to fascinating futuristic gadgets like holograms and mag-lev trains), and costumes (many of them outrageous hybrids of Louis XVI and Art Deco styles that reminded me a bit of Jean Paul Gaultier's work in "The Fifth Element"). Physically and visually well done. But that can’t shore up the gigantic holes in the rest of the fabric of the film.

Recommend? No.

http://www.thehungergamesmovie.com/index.html

Just watched...

...this year's "Snow White and the Huntsman" with Kristen Stewart and Charlize Theron.

I look forward to this extended holiday time at the end of every year because it means that my partner and I can catch up on films we have wanted to see, the never-ending Netflix queue, and whatever we have been saving on our TiVo for a time such as this. In between holiday dinners, we eagerly devour film after film. And this is how I came to sit through "Snow White and the Huntsman."

It seems there has been a recent surge in films that re-imagine old fairy tales. So far, this recent penchant for re-imagining simply means that a film studio adds what they think "tween" audiences want, which pretty much ruins the story and any chance for a meaningful exploration of the universality of said fairy tale, which is why such tales have survived in the collective unconscious so long.

After viewing “Snow White and the Huntsman,” much like the recent Little Red Riding Hood film “Red Riding Hood” with Amanda Seyfried, the result feels unnecessary. It was good enough, but why bother to begin with? This version of "Snow White" feels forced and dreary (I have yet to see Tarsem Singh's comedic version "Mirror, Mirror"). Kristen Stewart as Snow White seems sufficient but does not possess either the beauty that would drive a wicked queen to insane jealousy or the spirit and fortitude to command followers, as she does in this modern re-imagining. The only reason for her presence in this film is to draw in the tween "Twilight" crowd. Charlize Theron as Ravenna, the wicked queen, does a fine job with what she is given, thankfully resisting the urge to chew scenery, to which lesser actresses would have surely succumbed. Chris Hemsworth is sort of wooden, but then again, he is playing The Huntsman. Not much depth there to plumb. The only engaging parts of the film come with the addition of the dwarves (played charmingly by a superb cast of venerable British character actors), the spectacular costume design, and the impressive special effects which are seamlessly blended into the live action.

Recommend? Meh. It’s worth a look for the art design, effects, and costumes. Other than that… not really.

http://www.snowwhiteandthehuntsman.com/

Just watched...

...the documentary "This Film Is Not Yet Rated" in the on-going effort to stay on top of my "To See" list and the Netflix queue.

I remember when the new (at the time) NC-17 category came into use in the motion picture industry. It seemed to be a great way to distinguish which films to see, since anything interesting and independent has always been subject to censure. Before this category, any film that was thought to be stronger than an R-rated film was given an X-rating—which is ridiculous when one considers that in the waning days of the original Hays Code such great films as “Midnight Cowboy,” “Last Tango In Paris,” and “A Clockwork Orange” were all rated X. The first film to be rated NC-17 is the marvelous film “Henry and June.” But over the years, greed took center stage instead of story-telling, directing, or acting, and a film with an NC-17 rating now becomes pariah to any studio saddled with it. There is no money spent on advertising or promoting the film, most mainstream theater chains refuse to run NC-17 films, and such a film is pretty much doomed to utter commercial failure. It's all about what sells...and what sells is violence, guns, explosions, and a very limited, commercially sanctioned view of sex.

But what is not known to the general public is that the MPAA—the ultra-secretive, nearly-Fascistic motion picture industry organization—gives films these initials which, when investigated, ends up being completely arbitrary and meaning very little. The identities of the MPAA members are kept hidden and their draconian methods are never discussed with the outside world. It all sounds like some dreadful cult...except this cult not only influences and restricts its own members, it is actively working to restrict what the viewing public—you and me—can and can’t see, like some pinched-in, constipated, reproachful school marm.

In 2006, filmmaker Kirby Dick decided to infiltrate this bizarre cabal of supposedly “concerned parents of 5 to 17 year olds” in an attempt to discover who these people are, what hypocritical logic guides their decision making, and why they have the amount of power they do in the first place.

And what the film discovers is really at once shocking, expected (how film references of sensuality are excised almost always in favor of violence, which plays into the United States’ grotesque fascination with guns), and frustrating. In their entry, Wiki boils down all the salient points quite succinctly: the discovery that many ratings board members either have children 18 and over or have no children at all (typically, the MPAA has suggested it hires only parents with children between the ages of 5 and 17); that the board seems to treat homosexual material much more harshly than heterosexual material (this assertion is supported by an MPAA spokesperson’s statement in USA Today that "We don't create standards; we just follow them"); that the board's raters receive no training and are deliberately chosen because of their lack of expertise in media literacy or child development; that senior raters have direct contact in the form of required meetings with studio personnel after movie screenings; and that the MPAA's appeals board is just as secretive as the ratings board, its members being mostly movie theater chain and studio executives. Also included on the appeals board are two members of the clergy (one Catholic and one Protestant, who may or may not have voting power).

The hilarious twist to this film is that once Kirby Dick discovers their secrets, he incorporates it all into this very film which he then submits for a rating from the MPAA, the very people he just exposed!

Recommend? Yes, it is pretty entertaining but certainly has cultural and societal implications that touch nearly everyone.

http://www.ifc.com/videos/this-film-is-not-yet-rated

Just watched...

..."Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring," a 2003 South Korean film from director Kim Ki-duk.

In the continuing effort to try to stay current with the ever-growing Netflix queue, we finally watched this film I had been meaning to see for quite a while. I came across some production stills from it a few years ago and it looked like a must-see piece of art. I am so glad it did not fall off my "To See" list.

This gorgeous, simple film about a very small Buddhist monastery—which floats on a pristine lake in the untouched beauty of a mountainous region—with a single Master/herbal healer and a small boy apprentice touches on ideas of inner and outer desires, dissatisfaction, atonement, love, and karma.

Divided into five sections, one for each of the seasons in the title, we trace not only the literal quarterly shifts of the year, but also the figurative seasons of the life journey (spring is childhood, summer is adulthood, fall is old age and winter is death) of both the Master and his apprentice.

When a mother brings her ill teenage daughter to the floating monastery to be healed, the now-teenaged apprentice falls in love. But as the Master tells his young charge, “Lust awakens the desire to possess. And that awakens the intent to murder.” The young apprentice runs away despite the warning, and the wheel of karma is set in motion. The cycle of seasons, the cycle of life...

Both the compelling story and the breathtaking visuals make this film a rich experience (see stills below). The recurring motif of doors plays an important part in the film--where they are, how they are used, and who uses them, sometimes even when there is no wall! Much of the action takes place without dialogue, which reinforces the quietude of the surroundings of the monastery; it also helps us concentrate on the deeper meaning of the story itself. It unfolds like a gorgeous ancient Korean painting on silk.

Recommend? Yes. Truly beautiful to see and to contemplate.

http://www.sonyclassics.com/spring/

Just watched...

…”The Mirror,” from 1975 by Andrei Tarkovsky.

After I watched this today, I was marveling that through my years of being a film major (among other majors) in college, and through my many, many hours of sitting in a darkened theater on campus watching films, I did not encounter the amazing work of Tarkovsky. The first time I came across Tarkovsky was a showing of “Solaris” on a local PBS station in the mid-90s. How could the film program at my college--and my professor--NOT have shown any Tarkovsky, or even spoken of him for that matter?

Well, thankfully, I discovered him that fateful evening while watching “Solaris” and I have given myself a class in his works over the years. (I often give myself classes in subjects. The first time was when I was a teenager and heard Woody Allen talk about the "Zelda Fitzgerald Emotional Maturity Award" in his 1979 fim “Manhattan.” I had heard of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but who was this Zelda and what was funny about her emotional maturity?)

“The Mirror” was made after “Solaris” but had been in the works since at least 1964 when Tarkovsky got the idea to make a film about the memories and dreams of a man without the man appearing the film. Wiki sums up the structure of the film perfectly by noting that it “is discontinuous and non-chronological, without a conventional plot.” In this way, it is one of the most impressionistic films I have ever seen, although I do acknowledge that there are a handful of other films that use this technique and have done so successfully.

This gorgeous film is sort of like watching a snowglobe of the contents of a man’s head. It has been shaken and we watch the fragments swirl around. Episodes from direct experience, memory, imagination, and dreams exist side-by-side. We see his life in three time periods: childhood/ pre-war, war, and adulthood. And we begin to see patterns. There are links between past and present, cause and effect, sometimes rippling both directions. In what is surely some kind of Freudian admission, the same actress plays both our main character’s mother and wife. I want to stress that although this film may be layered, nuanced, and rich, and although it is an interpreted film, it is not confusing or incomprehensible, as some film essayists have claimed.

In “The Mirror,” we see Tarkovsky exhibit the same interest in setting up stunning yet simple tableaux, and lyrical or introspective imagery as in his other films, but compared to something like “Solaris,” the editing and pace feel not as languid, not as dreamy. A few moments and camera pans recall some of Fellini’s thrilling moments, the way the camera sweeps across a location, the way the wind blows. There is a purpose to this kaleidoscope of memories. Actual newsreel footage of the evacuation of Moscow, the Spanish Civil War, and Soviet-era events serves to ground this cognitive exploration. Tarkovsky’s screenplay is autobiographical to an extent and stars his actual wife, mother, and father, the famous Russian poet Arseny Tarkovsky. In sections of the film, the elder Tarkovsky reads his own poems over the soundtrack.

Trying to think of and write about this film is rather difficult because of the spell it casts. I like the simultaneous way the information was transmitted and depicted. I like how it left me feeling: a little spacey and ponderous. Although each scene is straight forward enough and is about what it is about, the effect is cumulative, hypnotizing, and lulling… possibly what it is to have one’s life “flash before one’s eyes” upon death. It is a magical film too, with the presence of imagination and dream given as much importance as actual events. Our brains cannot tell the difference between reality and active dreaming, after all. Mysterious moments come and go in this film, a strange localized wind sweeps over a field, a tea-drinking woman disappears from a room leaving behind a condensation ring from her tea cup, an oil lamp turns itself on and off, a bottle falls from a table for no reason with no one around it. It feels enigmatic, holy, and beyond “film,” beyond everyday comprehension. Like a dream (or a David Lynch film) "The Mirror" is best understood and appreciated through direct experience. One must sit and absorb it. Distilled to its essence, it is really about all of us, all who have had lives, memories, dreams…

Recommend? Absolutely. It is very special.

Just watched...

…Lars von Trier’s haunting, weighty “Meloncholia” starring Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Clinical depression. An extrasolar planet slamming into earth. Two sisters, mirror versions of each other, one dark and one light…or, well, pretending to be light. Despite the messy nature of the story, this film is actually told in a very neat and tidy way, divided into two sections, each focused on and named after one of the sisters.

Section one titled “Justine” (Dunst) takes place during Justine’s wedding which unravels into an utter disaster, not only because of Justine’s crushing depression but because of the idiosyncrasies, grudges, recriminations, and anger of the guests (like any real wedding, I suppose). We are introduced to the relationship between the sisters in this section, but we also have a few fleeting, tangential mentions about a planet from outside our solar system passing close to earth.

Section two titled “Claire” (Gainsbourg) takes place a short time after the wedding when Justine has been crippled—nearly literally—by her depression. Unable to even move much, Justine is brought to Claire. While she cares for Justine, we learn more about Claire’s psyche through her reaction to the imminent destruction of earth. While Claire crumbles, and I hasten to add understandably so, Justine remains calm, even welcoming the end of the world. Because this is what depression feels like: it feels like a planet slamming into earth all the time, and when one feels that way, one welcomes the relief that the actual disaster would bring. I know this from experience. How could global extinction be any worse than utter, cosmic despair?

von Trier dreamed up this film during treatment for his own depression when a therapist said to him that those who are clinically depressed remain calm in stressful situations. Clearly he took “stressful” as far as it could go… ya can’t get much more stressful than the end of all life and the planet itself. This is in no way a spoiler since all trailers and von Trier have been up front about what happens in the film—and in fact, we see, in the first minute of the film, the result of the planetary collision, then skip backward for our story.

It’s fascinating how von Trier took a story that is by its very nature global, and reduced it to a solo, interior experience. We don’t get to see the rest of the world’s reaction to this apocalypse--or the rest of the world at all. There is no science or astrophysics involved… only the sisters. We see the end of the world at the start of the film because, obviously according to von Trier, that is not the point of the story. Justine’s depression is given as much weight as the on-coming planet. In this way, the planet is a stand-in for depression itself, slamming into and destroying life. And the planet’s name IS Melancholia. I mean, come on. There it is.

I know this all sounds absolutely horrifying and “depressing” to some—most likely those who have never really experienced true depression or depressive episodes. But trust me when I tell you: it won’t kill you. Go there, and I promise you will come back. There is a lot more to this film than just depression. von Trier has said he was channeling German Romanticism, and to prove it, the recurring crescendo from Wagner’s prelude to "Tristan und Isolde" wafts through the film. This sometimes has an unintended—or perhaps intended, considering some of von Trier’s comments about the film—comic effect, what with such an histrionic melody accompanying images of depressive agony. But somehow, he manages to explore the subject and couple it with over-the-top music without tipping into farcical territory. And the highly stylized images can often be as expansive and “romantic” as well, maybe even over-the-top. Indeed, the entire opening sequence is an achingly slow-motion series of barely-moving, haunting, breathtaking images of the end of the world. Some of these indelible images recall, in composition and execution, the work of the late Ken Russell. What saves all this from being de trop is the amazing, riveting work of Dunst and Gainsbourg. Somehow, Dunst managed to capture the total inertia of depression without being inert, or overly inwardly focused. And Gainsbourg lets Claire’s iciness crack and dissolve in a most realistic and shocking way. Both actresses are artists, as evidenced by their masterful performances.

Recommend? Yes.

As an aside, “Meloncholia” reminded me that we indeed have a planetary body shrieking toward us for real. The asteroid Apophis is going to pass by us in 2029… closer than our communications satellites. At that time, we will be able to calculate whether, seven years later on a return orbit, it will pass us or slam into the Pacific resulting in what would surely be a catastrophic impact. We’ll see in sixteen years whether or not we survive… stay tuned.

http://www.melancholiathemovie.com/

Just watched...

…two films that I would normally not watch, yet I feel compelled to write about them.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, when one is stuck inside a small Mid-west home with relatives, and with not much to do, sometimes a film on television is a nice distraction (if one’s mother-in-law will stop talking long enough for the dialogue to be heard). That is how I came to watch “Mr. Holland’s Opus” with Richard Dreyfuss. As I said, this is not a film that I would normally be attracted to. It was released in 1995 and I had managed to avoid it all these years, but alas, it was on, and there I was. And I must say that I was a little surprised. It seemed like something one would roll one’s eyes at on the Hallmark Channel, and although there is a definite “Hallmark Channel”-ness to it all, it does have some sweet moments.

For those, like me, who have never seen it, we follow Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfuss), musician/ teacher/ composer through the ups and downs of his life. His first day of teaching music in high school does not go well, but he develops a passion for it and for bringing music to the lives of his kids. He and his wife have a son who, to the dismay of Glenn, turns out to be deaf. Deprived of sharing his passion for music with his son, Glenn keeps their relationship at arm’s length. Yes, I know, this all sounds VERY “Hallmark”-y, but as the years passed, and as the characters grew (up or old, depending), I ended up being drawn in. Mixed in with a predictable story line are some poignant and genuine events and emotions. The way children can be inspired by teachers, and the special bond that can develop between a student and a mentor is lovingly depicted in this film. Mostly, I found “Mr. Holland’s Opus” to be an inspirational ode to teachers, those people who are not paid enough to tackle a job that very few feel called to pursue. And I thought of a few people and very special teachers in my own life who may have started out as teachers but ended up as dear friends, to this very day. Being shown immense possibilities and a world of culture by these most special people helped make me who I am today. As I watched his students’ tribute to Mr. Holland, I thought of my very own Mr. Hollands: thank you forever to Odette, Anne, Betty, and Harvey… I love you all.

Recommend? Yes, I think so.

The second of the two films I would normally never see, I saw on the airplane coming back home to northern California. Being trapped on a plane is another place where one might as well try to make the time go faster by watching whatever is being shown. And on the flight west, they were showing a more recent film from 2012, “The Odd Life Of Timothy Green.”

Based on a concept by Ahmet Zappa and starring Jennifer Garner, Joel Edgerton, and CJ Adams, this film is another film that seems like it would be right at home on the Hallmark Channel (it was made by Disney after all), but unlike “Mr. Holland’s Opus” which deals with real life situations and disappointments, “Timothy Green” is an absolute fable, a fairy tale, perhaps even an updated version of a folk tale. When Cindy and Jim Green (Garner and Edgerton) find out they cannot have children of their own, they try to come to terms with the emotionally devastating news by conducting a very personal ritual, the kind that seems like it would come from Jungian psychology: after heartache and some wine, they imagine the son they will never have and memorialize his qualities and life events with pencil on slips of notebook paper which they gather and put into a small wooden box. That night, they bury the box in the garden behind their house, but a suspicious freak storm arises, and after the ground has been watered, a charming and muddy ten-year old boy shows up in their home (played with stunning maturity and beautiful sensitivity by CJ Adams), referring to Jim and Cindy as mom and dad. They actually put two and two together, unlike so many dense film characters, and understand that this is the magical manifestation of their imaginary child.

The story from here on is perhaps a tad predictable, but the tone of the film is gentle, unhurried, and slightly surreal. This is because the film also possesses a kind of metaphysical charm, since it aligns itself with the aforementioned fairy tale template. Think of Gepetto carving a son out of wood, and wanting with all his heart for Pinocchio to be real. Think of Greek myths where Baucis and Philemon turn into an oak and linden tree respectively, or Daphne turns into a laurel tree. Think of fairy tales where plants have magical properties like a beanstalk that grows to the clouds. This type of symbiotic and mystical relationship between man and plant has been around for centuries. Witness the Wiccan Green Man which shows up in many other unrelated cultures. So, of course since Timothy is from the natural world, he possesses a certain innocence coupled with a supreme self-realized, calm, and innate knowledge which touches the lives of all those around him. I can forgive the film for being a bit sappy and sentimental since it is clearly presented in a way that does not mistake itself for reality. It turns out to be lyrical, fantastical, and quite touching. Perhaps it touched me so because, as regular readers can tell from recent posts, I just observed the anniversaries of the deaths of both of my parents, who died well before their time, and before they would have wanted to leave. The absolute, unconditional love for their magical son exhibited by both Jim and Cindy Green reminds me so much of the rare, unique unconditional love I felt from my mom and dad. Perhaps it is because I still miss them so much that I found this film to be so tender and vital. It might be a modern fairy tale, but the yearning to nurture, to love, and to connect is genuine and universal. And like so many folk and fairy tales, “The Odd Life of Timothy Green” has a very bittersweet ending. From love and loss comes growth. Something must die for something else to be born.

Recommend? Yes. It has a lovely heart and is certainly worth a view.

http://disney.go.com/the-odd-life-of-timothy-green/

Just watched...

..."Cloud Atlas."

I hardly know where to begin writing about “Cloud Atlas,” the newest film from the Wachowski siblings and director Tom Tykwer. Although I did not read it, the film is based on the supposedly “unfilmable” book CLOUD ATLAS, shortlisted for the 2004 Man Booker Prize, by David Mitchell. The book tells six stories in chronological order that take place between 1849 and a far future that is revealed to be 2321. Author Mitchell says all of the main characters in the book are reincarnations of the same souls, through time, identified by a birthmark. The New Yorker called it “virtuosic” and I regret a little not reading it before it became a film. The name itself is mystically evocative. If an atlas is a book of maps, how could one ever make a map and record the position of the clouds, which are, by their nature, ever-moving, ever-changing, seemingly alive?

So the Wachowskis and Tykwer had their work cut out for them when they began working on a filmed adaptation of the novel. In fact, they all agreed that their initial meetings would be simply to see if the work could be translated into a screenplay at all. And as it turns out, it can be translated, with some brilliant and logical extra elements. They decided that the way to portray the reincarnated nature of the individuals in these six stories would be to cast the same actors, so we the audience can recognize (or in some cases of excellent make-up, not recognize) the journey and progress—or regression—of each soul. They also made a very wise decision not to tell the stories in chronological order. Right from the start of the film, the characters and events are introduced to us at a steady yet urgent pace. It is this pacing that propels the story forward and sweeps us along with it. We cut back and forth, zig-zagging through time and location, all the while anchored by these people and their interactions with one another. Never once did the narrative lag, never once did I sense the actual nearly-three-hour running time, and never once did I tire of any of the story arcs. Interweaving the timelines makes the film more immediate, more thrilling, and ultimately reinforces the ideas of karma, interconnectedness, and the impact we all have on each other, whether we know it or not (more likely not since we cannot see the “big picture” the way it is presented to us here, or as I personally believe, after we are released from our physical bodies). It also contributes to the idea that all time is simultaneous, although I am not sure that is what the Wachowskis or Tykwer were going for… but considering my own knowledge of physics, and my beliefs and experiences, that is what I get. Who knows, maybe that idea is what the filmmakers hope will sift down into our minds.

The film stars an impressive ensemble of very capable actors: Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Jim Broadbent, Hugo Weaving, Jim Sturgess, Doona Bae, Ben Whishaw, James D’Arcy, Susan Sarandon, and Hugh Grant. All play multiple roles, with some playing different races and genders. (All were excellent and the only teeny tiny quibble I have is with some of Hanks’ English dialects which seemed a bit unformed, but he sold it with such dedication, it is difficult to complain too much.) The art direction is spectacular with the sets and costumes of each age and place fully realized, in the case of the past or present, or fully visualized, in the case of the future. The odd future-speak patois in 2321 is delightful, hard to understand, and completely logical and believable all at once. And the technology in both future sections is a marvel and reminds me of Arthur C. Clarke’s accurate quote, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” The make-up ranges from amazing to sort of rubbery and not-so-good. But again, with all that we are being presented intellectually, emotionally, and visually, it seems a very small thing to point out.

There is a fascinating, subtle dichotomy at play in the feeling of the film. Although it is a German independent film, albeit distributed by Warner, there is something about it that feels sort of accessible and pop-culturish, and I don’t mean that in a good way. But when I try to ferret out exactly what is in the film or about the film that gives me that feeling, I come up blank. Is it simply that the cast is an A-List cast and not your cast of typical independent film actors? Well, Hanks and Berry might be Hollywood citizens, but many in the cast are not at all. There is something facile and slick about the veneer of “Cloud Atlas” that might be giving me this false impression, but looked at closely, the film is indeed virtuosic, spanning places, ages, cultures. It is, miraculously, a macrocosm and a microcosm, full of ideas (and metaphysical concepts) without seeming pedantic or bloated. Variety described it as "an intense three-hour mental workout rewarded with a big emotional payoff. ... One's attention must be engaged at all times as the mosaic triggers an infinite range of potentially profound personal responses." And that is entirely true. With both brains and heart, it dares to reference the big questions of existence by illustrating such ideas instead of pondering them outright. And very unlike an accessible, pop-culturish block-buster, there is an inevitable darkness: we as a species can be unfathomably cruel or unexpectedly, unconditionally kind to one another so we are not left with happy endings throughout the film. Some end up happy, some do not. There is satisfaction and there is pain. Just like life. Sometimes things turn out the way no one wants. But even then, the film reminds us, there is a pattern to it all. A beautiful, infinite pattern that includes light and dark, a pattern like moving clouds, living and breathing and vital.

Just like life.

Recommend? Clearly and definitely yes. I have been thinking of and contemplating this amazingly rich film for many days now. Take a look at the extended trailer below.

http://cloudatlas.warnerbros.com/

Just watched...

...an artful double feature: "The Mill And The Cross" and "Nightwatching."

Inspired by the book THE MILL AND THE CROSS by noted art historian Michael Francis Gibson, Polish visual artist and film director Lech Majewski created his film adaptation of the same name in 2011. The mill and the cross of the title are objects within Pieter Bruegel’s masterwork The Procession To Calvary, painted in 1564, a painting which depicts Christ carrying the cross. The landscape shows this Biblical event in Bruegel’s contemporary Flanders; nearly all Renaissance painters used this updating technique.

With this famous painting as a jumping off point, Majewski shows us the lives of a dozen out of the over five hundred characters who appear in the painting. The artist Bruegel (played by Rutger Hauer) stands above the daily action of a little valley in Flanders, looking down at the ecstasy and the agony of the villagers. And above Bruegel, perched high atop an almost impossibly towering, slim rock formation, is the mill.

The film slowly unfolds like a dream. It is Bruegel’s painting come to life. At first, it was a little jarring to see obviously “fake” backgrounds, and “fake” skies. But it is quickly apparent that realism is not the point here. Majewski is not showing us the actuality of Bruegel’s subject; he is showing us the reality of the work itself. These are not supposed to be real clouds on the screen, they are Bruegels’ clouds. These are not real rocks, they are Bruegel’s rocks. We are inhabiting a painted world. This fastidiously designed and rendered effect (which took two years to create in post-production) is utterly magical and surreal.

Also starring Michael York and the lovely and incomparable Charlotte Rampling as Mary (a villager and the mother of Christ), we see Bruegel “cast” his painting from the pool of people around him. He slowly plans his canvas and then gathers his models. There are several lovely goose-bump moments when, à la Sondheim’s “Sunday In The Park With George,” the villagers assemble to form the composition of the original piece.

Recommend? Yes, it is a stunning feast for the eyes… not sumptuous in material but sumptuous in substance. Especially for those who love art and art history.

I will say at the outset that I adore Peter Greenaway’s films (“Prospero’s Books,” The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover,” “The Pillow Book,” “ZOO: A Zed and Two Noughts,” “Drowning By Numbers”). Even his less-than-stellar efforts are far beyond what most other filmmakers are capable of. Even his missteps are glorious, unapologetic statements. Greenaway was a painter before embarking on a film career and every single thing he has created in film exhibits the sensibility of a painter, whether it is the phenomenal presentational tableaux he composes for his stories, his use of color and light, or his subject matter. Hi most recent film project is a series of films about Dutch master artists (the second film, “Goltzius and the Pelican Company” is already in the can and a film about Hieronymus Bosch is scheduled for 2016 to coincide with the 500th anniversary of the artist’s death), which sounds like it has the likelihood of being academic and a bit dry. But this is Greenaway we are talking about.

The first installment in this series is “Nightwatching,” a film about Rembrandt van Rijn and specifically the creation of his gargantuan masterpiece The Company of Frans Banning Cocq and Willem van Ruytenburch, a painting popularly known as Nightwatch. Greenaway imagines a conspiracy theory at the heart of the creation of this work of art. The men of a militia company hire Rembrandt to paint their group portrait but the artist accidentally stumbles onto a plot to murder a member of the company and the efforts of the remaining men to cover it up. Rembrandt, Greenaway fancifully imagines, accuses the men of their crime within the context of the painting using allegorical symbols, costuming them like buffoons in out-of-date uniforms. As one can guess, the reaction of the militia company is not pleasant.

But all of this is supposition and could very well be Greenaway pulling our legs. After all, he has done so many times in films that seem to be about historical personages or places (see “The Falls,” “The Coastline,” and the “Tulse Luper” series)… but we find out that such people and places were dreamt up in the fertile imagination of Greenaway. Such is the case, I suspect with “Nighwatching.” There is no historical fact to support the conspiracy theory or the fact that the men of the militia ruined Rembrandt’s subsequent career. Perhaps for this reason, the story feels a little strained and rushed. And in fact, the conspiracy story line comes to a conclusion about three quarters of the way through the film. We are left to watch Rembrandt (played with heroic dedication by Tim Freeman from the original British “The Office” and the 2005 film version of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy”) flail around, take a few mistresses after his wife’s death, and then…um… just sort of be Rembrandt. It all feels a little cobbled together. The film could have been shorter (the run time is two hours and fifteen minutes) if the story or editing had been more focused.

But of course the real pleasure in this film, and the reason to see it, comes with the visuals. It ends up being two hours and fifteen minutes of a moving painting. Every frame in this film is gorgeous. Greenaway, along with his art director James Willcock and director of photography Reinier van Brummelen, expertly recreate the dark, moody canvases of Rembrandt. With chiaroscuro lighting, we get the patches of light and dark that Rembrandt, and indeed most of the Dutch Masters, are known for. With sets more like the heightened stylism of the theater than a realistic location, Greenaway’s sense of composition is, as always, impeccable; much like "The Mill And The Cross," there is a goose bump moment when the actors assemble to form the composition of the original painting.

Recommend? If you are a die-hard Greenaway fan, then yes, see it. If not, I must mention that it does contain a bit of the kind of extensive nudity and profanity Greenaway is known for, so if that shocks you, stay away.

http://www.themillandthecross.com/
http://www.petergreenawayevents.com/petergreenaway.html
www.facebook.com/PeterGreenawayPage?ref=ts&sk=wall