Thoughts on Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (Tomas Alfredson, 2011)

There’s very little movement in Tomas Alfredson’s adaptation of John Le Carré’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Or perhaps I should say there’s lots of very little movements: a woman steps through a doorway, two people catch each others’ eye across a party, someone sights down a rifle, a car window opens a few inches, a man pulls a trigger. Wait - do we see the trigger being pulled or just hear the shot that results? I can’t remember, exactly, but throughout the movie it seems as if we’re always arriving on the scene too late: we see the aftermath, but not the event itself; we see the reaction, but the action is always just out of reach. This is a movie with many ripples and few stones.

The cast is filled with great actors, yet they’re very rarely allowed to act against each other in extended scenes. The relationships between the characters don’t open up in front of us, and that’s true of everything else in the complicated, expansive plot. The movie condenses Le Carré’s novel into moments and gestures. A shot of someone looking at a photograph stands in for years of personal history. The set pieces are often over before they’ve even seemed to have begun, and, though I know the story well, having read the novel twice and seen the miniseries once, there’s a density to the filmmaking here that made me feel always a step behind.

The centerpiece scene stands out as the movie’s most theatrical sequence by a wide margin. Gary Oldman’s George Smiley recounts his one face-to-face meeting with his opposite number, the Soviet masterspy Karla. The encounter was a victory for Karla: Smiley revealing more about himself than he learns about his enemy. Alfredson seems to have taken this as a kind of guiding principle. The movie puts us in the same position as Karla: we come to understand our hero in the brief moments he lets his guard down.

The plot, though expertly handled, is really just material here. The heart of the movie is its look (it’s appropriate that it’s made by a man who directed a movie called Four Shades of Brown), its mood, its brilliant character sketches, and, for lack of a better phrase, it’s world view. Alfredson’s outsider’s perspective is key, I think. There’s no sense of “They’re monsters, but they’re our monsters, dammit” that we get from The Sandbaggers. There’s no camaraderie among the intelligence agents on display here, as there is in John Irvin and Arthur Hopcraft’s 1979 miniseries. This is not a movie about “The Great Game”, not even about it in order to subvert it as in Fred Schepisi and Tom Stoppard’s adaptation of Le Carré’s The Russia House. At the risk of simplifying things, it does seem like a Swede would have a different perspective on the Cold War than a Brit: witnessing the action from afar, but, perhaps, perilously close to any potential consequences. What is emphasized is the urgency, the seriousness of the characters and their actions, but also their isolation and alienation from each other and the world. This is Le Carré’s great theme: that the isolating act of spying warps the spy by making him alien to himself, suspicious of his own feelings. And Alfredson makes something dreadful out of the knowledge that it’s these men, so cut off from knowledge of themselves, whispering intently to each other in smoke-filled rooms, who are pulling the strings.

Colombiana (Megaton, 2011)

Colombiana is a good action movie, but, looking over some of the reviews for it, I think David Edelstein - who doesn't like the movie - does a better job of describing it than most of the critics who did like it. For instance, Christy Lemire gave it a positive review and called it "sexy and silly": Zoe Saldana is sexy in the movie, but I don't think anything about the movie is silly (which is not to say that everything is presented with a completely straight face). This seems to me to be a distancing move of some sort on Lemire's part: a way to praise something while at the same time signalling she knows it's beneath her. Edelstein, on the other hand, called the movie "abstract and passionless" and wrote about Zoe Saldana's character being "too listless and strung-out and weirdly disembodied to make you feel much empathy" for her. I think Edelstein is mostly right - although I'd say "distanced" instead of "passionless" - but, for me, those are features, not bugs. By preventing the movie from working as simple escapism, they make the movie much more enjoyable: they make the movie something to engage with and not merely something to consume. It's a much more interesting experience than watching a straightforward action movie like Salt. (Edelstein is, at least, consistent in his preference for the conventional: he gave Salt a positive review.)

However, though I like Colombiana and think it's not really (or merely) a "fun", "simple" movie, I wouldn't call it "complex", either. The movie's structure, situation, and character are all fairly stock: what makes the movie distinctive is its texture - transitions where it zigs instead of zags or moments where an unexpected tone keeps me off balance. Two examples that stick out: the start of the first action sequence, when we realize that this little girl isn't going to be a victim (zigging instead of zagging) and a shot during the penultimate fight where Saldana, wielding dual submachine guns, wears a blank, hollow look (unexpected tone). There are similar moments in Besson and Kamen's Taken: the shock of Liam Neeson shooting his friend's wife and the narrowness of moral vision shown by his lack of concern for any of the other girls who have been kidnapped.

So, if complicated is the wrong word, what is the right one? "Textured" sounds too academic. "Rough" - as in, these are movies don't work smoothly, like "good" product should - is more descriptive, but might also imply that the technique of these movies is less than professional, which isn't the case. I'm open to suggestions. Other movies that are more "textured"/"rough" than they are complex: Larry Cohen's, Stallone's Rambo, Mario Bava's, Let Sleeping Corpses Lie, and - raised to the level of world historical art - Sam Fuller's.

I think that's its worthwhile trying to theorize out this concept, if only because the language critics have to talk about these movies seems to hem them in. If I like movies like Colombiana or Taken, I might want to argue that they aren't just dumb, simple movies (as their critics might), so I reach for the opposite concept: for example, I might praise their complexity for the way they critique standard action movie tropes. But really, that's a bit of an overreach, as these movies don't so much offer a complicated critique those conventions as they put a spin on them that forces me to stay on my toes while I'm watching.

Some thoughts on the code...

Some thoughts after seeing several "pre-code" movies at the Film Forum over the last few weeks:

The freedom I see in these movies isn't just in terms of content: their narrative form is freer than that of the movies that came after, as Hollywood's storytelling and genre conventions are still in flux. The two kinds of freedom are intimately related: as the code becomes more strongly enforced, filmmakers respond through a stylization that gestures without showing. The filmmakers who best make it out of the early 1930s are the ones who, like John Ford and Howard Hawks, are able to come to terms with this cinema of gesture, convention, and abstraction. On the other hand, a filmmaker like William Wellman - at home making movies that deal directly, frankly, and sometimes crudely with the richness and messiness of life - seems at sea once the freedom to show is no longer available.

I think Hollywood filmmakers at their best (a dangerous generalization, I admit) were able to exploit the freedom of the "pre-code" years fairly well. The movies of William Wellman and Raoul Walsh from the early 1930s are worthy American cousins to the kinds of films being made by Jean Renoir in France at the same time. I think Hollywood filmmakers at their best reacted to the enforcement of the code with a great deal of imagination and artistry, making a virtue of the necessary stylization by incorporating it into personal visions of the world. I'd add that this incorporation was often an agonistic process - as it was with Hawks! But I think the enforcement of the code had a more lasting and damaging effect on the work of Hollywood filmmakers who started making movies after the code was no longer being enforced. Even though filmmakers could show more, it seems as if the underlying logic behind the code had been internalized, so that the freedom of movies in the 1960s and beyond was superficial.

Take Barbara Stanwyck's character in Wellman's So Big: she's a woman who matter-of-factly uses her sexuality (along with her smarts) to get what she wants and the movie never condemns her or suggests that in doing so she's giving up a chance at some more fulfilling life. Even though in terms of what could be shown, the "post-code" movies could be more explicit, the clear-eyed, no fuss view of sexuality that we see in the Wellman movie did not return. The anxiety surrounding sexuality and relationships in Hollywood movies seemed to get even more oppressive after the code. The traits of those characters that Stanwyck played that were treated as no big deal in pre-code movies are turned into issues that the post-code movie needs to address. One of the reasons the so-called "American New Wave" is more superficial than the New Wave in France, is that the characters of the New Hollywood are still warped, constricted, and stunted by their authors' commitment to the spirit of the code, if no longer its letter.

There are a few exceptions: Jonathan Demme's Something Wild feels like a "pre-code" movie both in the way it presents its characters and in the way its tone isn't determined by committment to a given genre a priori, but rather shifts as the story demands.

Two Australian Crime Movies

Two Australian crime movies, both available on Netflix Watch Instant, both worth seeing. Interesting to watch them together because one is good and the other is excellent, and the reasons for that difference in quality are instructive.

ANIMAL KINGDOM (David Michod, 2010) is a solid, serious movie. It's made in what I'd consider to be the contemporary conventional mode for this kind of material: short scenes centered around a single impression or idea, acting done mostly in close-up, music cues over slow motion tracking shots to punctuate the big thematic moments, a dramatic arc organized around the central character's movement through a criminal milieu. I'd call it "domesticated Scorsese". And as far as it goes, it's a decent example of this kind of film: it explores a premise about familial duty, the actors are expressive, the music on the soundtrack is well-chosen. It's main fault, though, is that even though it's based on a real life Melbourne crime family, except for a few details it feels like it could take place anywhere. And that "could take place anywhere" feeling exists on both a macro level - it could be set in L.A. or Hong Kong without changing much of anything - and the micro level - there's nothing particularly interesting done with any of the locations in the movie: you could mix up the houses the different characters live in and it'd be the same movie.

In some ways, THE SQUARE (Nash Edgerton, 2008) is more conventional: it has a plot right out of a 40's film noir (adulterous couple plot to steal money from the cheating woman's shady husband) and it plays out following all the rules of traditional Hollywood storytelling. But in today's context, that traditionalism seems, if not radical, than at least strikingly unconventional. At this point, it's probably meaningless to praise a movie for its great use of space or its sense of geography - at least it's meaningless without going into the details of how it uses space or what gives it such a good sense of geography. In the case of THE SQUARE, it's that all the scenes are worked out in ways depend on the specifics of the places they're set in. There's a sequence that takes place at a community picnic that involves the adulterers trying to signal to each other across a crowd without their spouses catching on: the staging and cutting emphasizes the attempt to have a private communication in a public space. The layout of the houses and apartments the characters live in plays a part in the unfolding of the action (i.e., the scene where the stash of money is discovered). On a larger scale, the geography matters, too: there's a river that runs through the town that plays a logistical role in the plot and a thematic role in the story. Ultimately, it was that kind of attention to detail that made the experience of watching THE SQUARE so interesting on a moment-to-moment level. Instead of each shot equaling one idea (as in ANIMAL KINGDOM), the complexities and nuances of THE SQUARE emerge detail-by-detail as the action unfolds. It's the difference between having a story told to you and watching a movie.

Three Movies

Three movies that got bad reviews that I more or less liked: The Green Hornet (Michel Gondry, 2011), The Dilemma (Ron Howard, 2011), and (especially) How Do You Know (James L. Brooks, 2010):

THE GREEN HORNET: Aside from not having Robert Downey Jr.in it (granted, a big aside from) this is superior to Iron Man in just about every way. Clever action sequences, good chemistry between Rogen and Jay Chou, imaginative visual touches, great 'scope framing throughout, good twists on both the bad guy character and the girl Friday character are the positives. Main negative is the clumsy (lazy?) plotting, but, to be fair, I can't think of many super-hero movies that have really sharp plotting.

THE DILEMMA: Not a great movie, but interesting and engaging for how far it follows its premise into darker territory than expected (not unlike The Break-Up in that sense). The cast is good (esp. liked Channing Tatum: endearingly dopey). Ultimately suffers from clumsy plotting, too: there's a whole B plot (will they get the deal with Chrysler?) that's just there to put the A plot (the stuff about Vince Vaughn not knowing whether to tell Kevin James about his cheating wife) under some pressure, and I could have done without it. It seems like it's there because it's the kind of thing screenplays are supposed to need (per Robert McKee or whomever) rather than something that grows out of the characters/situation. In general, there's a struggle between the way the movie wants to/tries to deal with issues of honesty and betrayal and the narrative conventions of the 21st Century Hollywood comedy that requires certain kinds of closure and certain kinds of characters. The struggle is not resolved satisfactorily.

Which brings me to:

HOW DO YOU KNOW: Again, I could quibble with some plot stuff, but I won't because (a) overall I liked this and (b) I think Brooks is trying to (and mostly succeeds at) making a kind of movie that for the most part doesn't exist anymore. Back in the Hollywood comedies of the 1930s there was a unity of narrative convention, character, genre convention, and acting style that went hand in hand with these movie's unity of space. That is, even if the situations were exaggerated and the plots were more elaborate than what we'd see in real life, the characters and the places they lived in/moved through were recognizable. But that unity was chipped away at by stuff like Mad Magazine, the genre revisionism of the 60s/70s, the rise of irony, etc. Actually, this applies to all genres, probably, not just comedies, but it seems to me that comedies were particularly hard hit. That is, the Hollywood comedy, aimed at a mass audience of adults was particularly hard hit. But I think HOW DO YOU KNOW is that kind of "old fashioned" comedy, that still manages to speak to contemporary audiences, without dealing in irony and without feeling like its struggling against its narrative conventions: rather, it seems to unfold naturally.

I'm not sure why these movies got drubbed by the critics, but I do suspect it has to do with the movie critic herd mind deciding what the "story" of these movies was going to be before many people had actually seen these movies.

Screening Log: September 2010

Back on track...

Ditrict 13: Ultimatum (Patrick Alessandrin, 2009) (v) *** - Not as strong as the first District 13, but still quite good: better than any American action movie this side of Crank. The kung-fu choreography is inventive and Luc Besson’s Gallic, un-PC sense of humor is in full effect.

Centurion (Neil Marshall, 2010) ** - I agree with Jim Emerson: this is an action movie stripped down to abstraction - violence/running through the wilderness/repeat - where the point is all in how it looks and feels. A bit of a disappointment in that Marshall is moving farther away from making the kind of movie The Descent (his best) was. I was disappointed with Doomsday, too, for the same reason, but now I want to go back and give it a second look. I’m not so sure its fair to judge a director based on where you’d like him to go: it’s better to try to figure out where he wants to go, first.

Niagara (Henry Hathaway, 1953) (v) *** - I think working in color, on-location really brings out Hathaway’s strengths (or maybe de-emphasizes his weaknesses). He has an unfussy eye for detail (like the little pools of water that show up in shot after shot) and lets the action determine the composition instead of doing it the other way around (like he does in his black and white work, which sometimes feels contorted to me).

Escape from Alcatraz (Don Siegel, 1979) (v) ***** - Like Jean-Pierre Melville, Don Siegel wrote his spiritual autobiography in genre pictures, like this one and Charley Varrick. Like Melville, Siegel was a transitional figure: one foot firmly planted in the classical system, but most of his work occurring the in context of a younger generation’s “New Wave”. When I brought this comparison up on Twitter, Dan Sallitt responded that it didn’t work for him because Melville was a low-key analytic modernist making White Elephant art and Siegel was a romantic making termite art, an observation with which I agree. And that helps explain that while both were transitional figures, Melville has his heirs (Walter Hill, Michael Mann), while Siegel turned out to be a terminal figure. Clint Eastwood’s movies come closest to Siegel’s, but Eastwood is cagier, overall, and much more prone to making “big statement” movies. Siegel would never make something as self-consciously important as Mystic River or Million Dollar Baby. Speaking of Eastwood, he’s great here: this is one of his best performances. It’s a perfect match of actor and character: everything is external, it’s all about how he moves, how he’s constantly sizing things up, looking for opportunity or weakness. What Eastwood does here gets closer to the spirit of Richard Stark’s Parker than any of the performances of the actors in any of the movies in actual Parker adaptations. Siegel’s filmmaking here matches the performance: we’re constantly, but unobtrusively, tuned into the space the characters are trapped in and the obstacles they’ll have to overcome. There’s very little extraneous bullshit weighing things down, which gives the movie a sense of efficiency, but its not passionless - that’s where the spiritual autobiography part comes in. This is what it takes, says Siegel: stay professional, be perceptive, keep an eye out for opportunities; start within the system, within its constraints, and work your way out.

Tetro (Francis Ford Coppola, 2009) (v) * - First, Vincent Gallo and Maribel Verdu are really quite good here. Second, Coppola, the director, is as good as he’s been in years. Third, unfortunately, Coppola the writer has come up with a very compromised, seemingly self-serving piece of work. It presents easy, self-help style answers to problems that arise from thwarted artistic ambition and twisted father-son rivalries. Everyone seems to get off too easily: the characters, the audience, and - especially - the author.

The Prowler (Joseph Losey, 1951) (v) ***

Alexander the Last (Joe Swanberg, 2009) (v) ***

Eccentricities of a Blond Haired Girl (Manoel de Oliveira, 2009) (v) ****

The Tiger’s Tail (John Boorman, 2006) (v) ** - For other directors, this might have played like a thriller, but for Boorman it’s a parable: a chamber version of his magisterial Where the Heart Is. Like most Boorman movies, he paints with broad strokes, and like most Boorman scripts, the dialogue is often over-explicit and clunky, but his sense of form and of morality make up for those small deficiencies. Still, this isn’t as tonally rich as his best work.

Everybody Says I Love You (Woody Allen, 1996) (r) (v) **** - When I first saw this (during its original release, back when I was in college) I was disappointed by how slight it felt. Now, seeing it again (when I happen to be back to being a student), its tossed-off, casualness seems like its greatest virtue.

A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy (Woody Allen, 1982) (r) (v) * - I like the idea behind the meshing and mushing of anachronistic ways of talking. Doesn’t come together though, for reasons which require further reflection.

Greenberg (Noah Baumbach, 2010) (v) *** - Steely Dan’s “Hey Nineteen” plus “What a Shame About Me”.

Crimes and Misdemeanors (Woody Allen, 1989) (r) (v) **** - This reminded me of Mon oncle d’Amerique: a dramatized lecture, but “lecture” not in the sense of hectoring but of drawing out and exploring a series of ideas about human nature. The way Allen plays the counterpoint between the two stories leads to some thrilling moments.

Cassandra’s Dream (Woody Allen, 2007) (v) **** - I like Richard Brody’s phrase: ”a vision of life as a swift and desperate plummet through pain into oblivion”. Very, very bracing. Now I’m trying to think of all the murders in Woody Allen movies... There’s more than I would have thought at first.


Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: The Rest of the Summer - Drive-By, Half-Assed, No-I-Didn’t-Like-Inception Edition

I went back to school in May and didn’t have time to see much of anything. But around the middle of June I got into a groove and started catching up with stuff via Netflix Watch Instant and DVRing TCM. I had most of August off, so I even managed to get to the theater to catch some of the big summer movies. But I’m back in school now, and I have no time at all to write this up as a proper screening log. Questions, comments are always welcome.

High Sierra (Walsh) ***** - Great movie. Best Bogart performance.

The Girl on the Train (Techine) ***

The Bridesmaid (Chabrol) *** - RIP

Heist (Mamet) *** - Great, if unbelievable, dialogue.

THX-1138 (Lucas) **

Red Cliff (Woo) *** - This is to Hard Boiled as The Lord of the Rings is to Dead Alive.

A Prophet (Audiard) **

Some Came Running (Minnelli) *****

The Hunted (Friedkin) ***

Candyman (Rose) *** - This one is really good! I’m glad I saved it for a rainy day.

The Crazies (Romero) ****

Journey Into Fear (Foster) * - A mess.

Mother (Bong Joon-ho) **

The Other Guys (McKay) *** - This may be McKay’s best work as a metteur-en-scene, although it lacks the surreal Walmart poetry of Step Brothers and Talladega Nights.

The Expendables (Stallone) ** - The actions scenes are a bit of a mess, but it’s nice to see all these guys hanging out together. Dolph Lundgren is teriffic. Jet Li is criminally underused.

The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus (Gilliam) * - Not surprisingly a mess. Still, some very nice things in it. It seems, though, like they tried to use every inch of Ledger footage they had, but some of it really needed a second (or third) take.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Gentleman Broncos (Hess) **** - Even better the second time around.

Edge of Darkness (Campbell) *** - This one disappeared, but it’s quite a good genre piece: a few steps down from The Ghost Writer, but above almost any other recent political thriller I can think of. It’s a bit like State of Play in that you get what you expect, but never exactly in the way you expect it.

Stagecoach (Ford) ***** - I could watch this everyday.

Unfaithfully Yours (Sturges) ***** - This is the second time I’d seen it. I watched it the first time because I was writing about Sturges for my undergraduate thesis and I didn’t like it as much as his other movies. Although, in retrospect, that was probably because it wasn’t as useful to my thesis as Morgan’s Creek or The Palm Beach Story. Watching it now, though, with no ulterior motives, I really loved it.

The Eclipse (MacPherson) *** - I like movies that are smartly made and well-acted and get at genuine human/emotional truths but that don’t, per se, really have a point.

The Thief of Bagdad (Korda) **

Dreamscape ***

Gojira (Honda) ****

To Be or Not to Be (Lubitsch) *****

The Men Who Stare at Goats (Heslov) **

DOA **

Matinee (Dante) *****

The Package (Davis) * - Truly a product of its time.

Black Christmas (Clark) **

The House of the Devil *** - Almost a masterpiece. The problem is in the last act. These ambitious genre movies often have a great set up and wonderful development, but then return to the conventional for the ending. Nonetheless, there are moments here that reminded me of Garrell’s Regular Lovers.

The Screwfly Solution (Dante) ***

Armored (Antal) *** - Overdetermined screenplay saved by pitch perfect b-movie direction.

Armored Car Robbery (Fleischer) ***

Wild Grass (Resnais) **** - No - I don’t know what the little girl is supposed to mean.

The Hidden Fortress ***** - Kurosawa’s only (?) pure adventure movie is a strong contender for the title of greatest adventure movie ever made.

Sex is Comedy (Breillat) **

Preview

Fay Grim (Hartley) ****

Nikita (Besson) *** - I’m such a big fan of the action movies that Luc Besson has produced, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that until now the only Luc Besson-directed movie I’d seen is The Fifth Element (which I like quite a bit). Watching Nikita for the first time now is a little weird because on the one hand it seems to have been extremely influential and on the other it’s full of its own quirks and idiosyncrasies. The action scenes are quite interesting: Besson uses choppy editing rhythms that emphasize cause and effect rather than spatial continuity. It’s comic book Eiseinstein and reminds me more of Raising Arizona than it does other action movies.

Surveillance (Lynch) - Back when I was writing screenplays with my brother, there were two kinds of projects we worked on. The first kind were screenplays for movies that we knew we would love to see, but were pretty certain would never actually be made. Working on those was a lot of fun. The second kind were screenplays for movies that we weren’t as crazy about seeing, but we suspected might actually have a chance of getting made. Working on those wasn’t much fun. Surveillance seems like the second type of project: like Chambers-Lynch had some ideas she wanted to get at but knew she had to put them in a saleable package. So, this ends up feeling like a slightly weirder version of a typical low-budget thriller-with-a-twist.

The Book of Eli (The Hughes Brothers) ** - I am happy to see the Hughes Brothers reinvent themselves as Zack Snyder-ian action stylists.

2012 (Emmerich) ** - I loved the surreal, vertiginous special effects shots of the earth crumbling and rippling.

Paul Blart: Mall Cop **

The Young Victoria **

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (Ford) ***** - Another one of a dozen or so movies that could legitimately be called “Ford’s best”.

The Brood (Cronenberg) **** - Weirder than any paraphrase/plot synopsis would suggest.

Bob le Flambeur (Melville) *****

In the Electric Mist (Tavernier) *

District B13 (Morrel) **** - One of my new favorite action movies.

Henry Fool (Hartley) **** - The Great American Novel as Indie Movie.

Inception (Nolan) - Clever, without being witty, imaginative, or soulful. A less bombastic, more nimble movie might get away with mere cleverness, but here it’s a disappointment.

From Paris with Love (Pierre Morel) *

Hot Fuzz (Edgar Wright) **

Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean) ****

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Why All Summer Long is better rock music than Rubber Soul

David Thomas makes the claim that rock music is the voice of American folk culture and, because of that, non-Americans can't make rock music. I'm not sure that I believe him, but I do think he's onto something. It does seem that there is a major - I'd even argue central - feature of American rock that did not travel with the music when it was picked up by British bands. Whether or not this feature is more or less valuable than those that were successfully exported is up for debate (I'm beginning to suspect more), but the fact that it's tied to a specifically American context strikes me as being an empirically sound observation.

So - what exactly is that feature? In private conversations, I've been using the phrase "geographical naturalism" to describe it, but that's a bit obscure shorn of any other context. What I mean though is that there are many American rock songs that are grounded in specific details of a place and time (and, because of that, in the specific details of a society, a culture, a history), but there are very few non-American rock songs that are geographically grounded.

Compare the songs of Chuck Berry and Carl Perkins to those of Lennon and McCartney, their overseas followers. There are only one or two Beatles songs a sense of place that can rival "Dixie Fried" or "Johnny B. Goode" ("Eleanor Rigby" is one of them), but that kind of geographical naturalism was the norm for Perkins and Berry - not the exception. The vast majority of Lennon and McCartney's work consists of self-expression: expressing feelings for someone else or expressing what it feels like to go through an existential crisis. In their own way, Perkins and Berry do these things, too, but it's almost as if they can't help but do more. The stories they tell aren't merely personal: they're geographical, cultural, historical.

You can find similar stories throughout American rock music. On the Precise Modern Lovers Order live album, Jonathan Richman introduces "Roadrunner" as "our geographical song involving Route 128", which is where I got the "geographical" part of "geographical naturalism". The "naturalism" comes from the lyrics of the song: a story about a guy listening to WOR while driving down Route 128 past the industrial park and the Stop 'n' Shop. As far as I know, there is no British rock song that expresses a culture through these kinds of specific but mundane details in the way that "Roadrunner" does. (Although I'd be glad to hear any suggestions in the comments.) When British rock does deal with geography, it's usually imaginary and often (as in "Jumping Jack Flash" or "Crossroads") a mythical version of America. Greil Marcus (I think) called the Beatles "imaginary Americans" and, if they are, the America they're from is imaginary, too: a homogeneous export product, not the actual places where the people who invented rock lived.

Side-by-side comparisons of a few more songs will further illuminate this lack of a geographical and historical sensibility in British rock. The world traveling in Rod Sewart's "Every Picture Tells a Story" seems positively fantastic next to the details of the cross-country travels in "Tangled Up in Blue". The alienated subject of Gang of Four's "At Home He's A Tourist" seems (perhaps appropriately) that he could be living anywhere, but the alienation in the Talking Heads' "Don't Worry About the Government" is less theoretical because it's grounded in a recognizable (if obliquely described) place.

I'd also point out that there are American rock musicians who write these songs almost exclusively: Bruce Springsteen, Stan Ridgway, John Cougar, Brian Wilson, and, of course, David Thomas.

The importance of these kinds of songs is that they do more than just capture what it feels like to be a teenager in love: they reveal the mysteries of a culture and a nation, as well as their promises, prophecies, and betrayals. They force us out of our own egos, into an awareness of a larger history. They tell us our story.

That's why I've begun to balk at the idea of the Beatles as the greatest rock band. Right now, I'd give that honor to the Beach Boys, who were s accomplished musically (and who aced the whole self-expression thing on Pet Sounds), but, on albums like All Summer Long and Surf's Up, also gave us a stories of a place and a culture

Screening Log: April to Late June 2010

So - blogging has been light here because I left my job in order to go back to school in May and, as it turns out, school has been more work (and more rewarding work) than the old 9 to 5. Most of these movies I saw in April: a few of them I saw more recently. I'm finding it difficult to put together the 2+ hours necessary to devote to a single movie: I've spent my leisure time (what there is of it) watching TV shows (I really love Justified) and reading comic books (I really love my Marvel Digital subscription). I'm going to try to keep the screening logs going, though there won't be as much commentary as before.

Shutter Island (Martin Scorsese, 2010) (v) ***

The Devil's Doorway (Anthony Mann, 1950) (v) *** - Very interesting pro-Indian Western that feels a bit more radical than the similarly-themed Broken Arrow. Not sure how I feel about Robert Taylor, though. John Alton's photography here is truly excellent, though.

Kick-Ass (Matthew Vaughn, 2010) ** - Enjoyable, but they really defanged Mark Millar's work. The movie is more conventional than the comic book, so the outrageous/provocative elements seem like they're there to push buttons rather than being there because they're part of a unified, low brow vision.

Comanche Station (Budd Boetticher, 1960) (v) ***** - This feels like a movie that could take place in between the big scenes of a John Ford movie.

Alexander Nevsky (Sergei Eisenstein, 1938) (v) **** - Great battle scene.

Blind Date (Blake Edwards, 1987) (v) *** - One of the best from Edwards' late period. As much as I like Bruce Willis in action blockbusters, it's kind of a shame that we "lost" one of the best comic actors of his generation.

Fear City (Abel Ferrara, 1984) (v) ***

Arsenal (Aleksandr Dovzhenko, 1929) (v) ****

Who's That Knocking at My Door (Martin Scorsese, 1967) (v) **

The Lovers of Eternity (George Kuchar, 1963) ****

Lust for Ecstasy (George Kuchar, 1964) ***

Pussy on a Hot Tin Roof (George Kuchar, 1961) **

Make Way for Tomorrow (Leo McCarey, 1937) (v) ***** - Beautiful and moving. Maybe the best of the Leo McCarey movies I've seen, which means one of the best Hollywood movies I've seen, which means one of the best movies I've seen, period. McCarey knows how to direct actors and shape performances so that the most important/beautiful/moving moments come when the performers are "just" reacting. It's a very different feel from the more direct style of his contemporaries.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

The American Comics (after Andrew Sarris)

Inspired by this comments thread:

The Pantheon

Winsor McCay
George Herriman
E.C. Segar
Frank King
Harold Gray
Chester Gould
Roy Crane
Walt Kelly
Jules Feiffer
Harvey Kurtzman
Carl Barks
Charles Schulz
Jack Kirby
R. Crumb

The Far Side of Paradise

George McManus
Hal Foster
Crockett Johnson
Milt Caniff
Bill Mauldin
Will Eisner
Jack Cole
John Stanley
Otto Binder*
Saul Steinberg
Bernie Krigstein
Steve Ditko
Leonard Starr
Garry Trudeau

Expressive Esoterica

Lyonel Feininger
Billy DeBeck
Lou Fine
Lynn Ward
Floyd Gottfriedson
Fletcher Hanks
Jerry Siegel*
George Carlson
Milt Gross
C.C. Beck
Basil Wolverton
George Price
Johnny Craig
Jack Davis
Will Elder
Wally Wood
James Thurber
Stan Lee*

Fringe Benefits

Herge
Osamu Tezuka
Goscinny & Uderzo

Less Than Meets the Eye

Al Capp
Alex Toth
Al Feldstein*

Lightly Likable

Bud Fisher
Harry Tuthill
Rube Goldberg
Noel Sickles
Chic Young
Alex Raymond
Stan Drake
Mac Raboy
V.T. Hamlin
Curt Swan
Hank Ketcham
Graham Ingles
Jack Davis
Sheldon Mayer

Strained Seriousness

Burne Hogarth
Neal Adams

*working with various artists

Screening Log: March 2010

Two Rode Together (John Ford, 1961) (v) ** - The kind of a movie die hard auteurists are likely to overvalue: a good-but-not-great that happens to be very interesting to think about in terms of how it relates to other movies - other John Ford movies (mainly The Searchers), other westerns (the Anthony Mann movies where Jimmy Stewart plays an amoral anti-hero).

Midnight (Mitchell Leisen, 1939) (v) ***** - At first, I was watching and thinking "Okay - this isn't bad. Don Ameche isn't great, but the movie seems pretty enjoyable." But then - once the false identity stuff gets going and John Barrymore shows up - the movie came together for me and all of a sudden I was watching one of the most wonderful romantic comedies I've ever seen.

The Art of the Steal (Don Argott, 2009) (v) **

The Blind Side (John Lee Hancock, 2009) (v) - I would have given this one star, but for that obnoxious little kid.

The Lusty Men (Nicholas Ray, 1952) (v) ***** - Once again: my favorite Nicholas Ray movie is the one I've seen most recently.

Early Spring (Yasujiro Ozu, 1956) (v) ****

Mon Oncle d'Amerique (Alain Resnais, 1980) (v) ** - Interesting and ambitious. It's hard to think of another movie that "explains itself" so directly and blurs the line between telling and showing.

Werckmeister Harmonies (Bela Tarr, 2004) (v) ** - Two stars provisional based on watching a truly awful DVD of the movie. I really loved what I saw, but the experience was definitely marred by the poor image quality.

Paisan (Roberto Rosellini, 1946) (v) *****

The Keyhole (Michael Curtiz, 1933) (v) *

Gentleman Broncos (Jared Hess, 2009) (v) ***

The Invention of Lying (Ricky Gervais and Matthew Robinson, 2009) (v)

Zombieland (Ruben Fleischer, 2009) (v) *

Stars in My Crown (Jacques Tourneur, 1950) (v) ****

They Had to See Paris (Frank Borzage, 1929) (v) - Clunky. Will Rogers' performance seems forced.

Born Reckless (John Ford, 1930) (v) ** - Another good-but-not-great Ford, interesting to me (from a historical perspective) for the way it blends genres.

Pilgrimage (John Ford, 1933) (v) **** - Near-great Ford and another example of moviemaking before genre ossification set in.

Brigitte & Brigtitte (Luc Moullet, 1966) (v) ***

Up & Down (Luc Moullet, 1993) (v) ****

The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006) (v) - A fraud that tries to reduce an extremely complex subject to a case of good apples and bad apples. It also pushes the idea that loving art makes you a better person in a rather simplistic and self-serving manner.

Ruggles of Red Gap (Leo McCarey, 1935) (v) (r) ***** - Perfection.

My Winnipeg (Guy Maddin, 2007) (v) ***

L'Argent (Robert Bresson, 1983) (v) **** - It seems like much of the contemporary European art-house/festival style comes out of this movie.

The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953) (v) *** - Effectively bleak.

The Ghost Writer (Roman Polanski, 2010) **** - A perfect thriller.

Bromo and Juliet (Leo McCarey, 1926) (v) (s) *** - I liked all of these Charley Chase/Leo McCarey movies quite a bit. They're interesting partly because their comedy comes less from big gags and more from character-based humor.

Dog Shy (Leo McCarey, 1926) (v) (s) ***

Innocent Husbands (Leo McCarey, 1925) (v) (s) ***

Isn't Life Terrible? (Leo McCarey, 1925) (v) (s) ***

His Wooden Wedding (Leo McCarey, 1925) (v) (s) ***

Surrogates (Jonathan Mostow, 2009) (v) * - I liked this slightly better than I, Robot, but it has a similar problem: a sci-fi premise that already seems horribly out-dated matched with special fx that already seem horribly out-dated.

The Searchers (John Ford, 1956) (v) (r) ***** - At a party last summer, during a wide-ranging conservation about movies, a friend of mine remarked that he thought The Searchers - which he had just seen for the first time - was overrated. At the time, I tentatively agreed. Not because I didn't like the movie, I explained, but because I thought there were at least a half a dozen John Ford movies that were better. So, here I am, less than a year later, watching The Searchers on Blu-Ray, and I'm asking myself: "What was I thinking?" I mean, yes, I still don't think that The Searchers towers over all other John Ford films, but it certainly does belong among his best. And if I can't quite get behind it as a "Top Ten Movie of All Time", I wouldn't argue with anyone who could. More simply: this is a breathtakingly, painfully beautiful movie. Just about every scene, every shot is perfectly calibrated, emotionally nuanced, and thematically complex. The shot where Ward Bond averts his eyes from John Wayne's goodbye to Dorothy Jordan ranks as one of the greatest single shots in the American Cinema.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: February 2010

Note: This one is late and anemic, but March's should be a doozy.

The Damned United (Tom Hooper, 2009) (v) * - Sheen, Broadbent, Spall, and Meaney are all very fine. The movie itself, though, is the kind where every beat is played exactly as you'd expect.

Hunger (Steve McQueen, 2008) (v) ***

13 Rue Madeleine (Henry Hathaway, 1947) (v) **

Bright Star (Jane Campion, 2009) (v) *** - A surprise.

Killshot (John Madden, 2008) (v) **

Lorna's Silence (Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, 2008) (v) ** -

24 City (Jia Zhangke, 2008) (v) **

Julia (Erick Zonca, 2008) (v) ***

The Bad Lieutenant Port of Call New Orleans (Werner Herzog, 2009) (v) ***

Frontier of Dawn (Philippe Garrel, 2008) (v) ***

An Education (Lone Scherfig, 2009) (v) - A few really strong performances (although not from Carey Mulligan, who's much better in the Bleak House miniseries) trapped inside a preposterous movie.

Whip It (Drew Barrymore, 2009) (v) *** - I was surprised by how much I liked this movie. Lots of nice, low-key touches and a true generosity of spirit.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: January 2010

Apocalypto (Mel Gibson, 2006) (v) (r) **** - Mel Gibson's best movie and, I think, one of the key action movies of the aughts, if only because it bucked so many of the decade's trends.

Wanted (Timur Bekmambetov, 2008) (v)

Pandorum (Christian Alvart, 2009) (v) * - Effective, if derivative, videogame inspired sci-fi horror flick. Marks the first time I have liked Ben Foster in anything.

The Final Destination (David R. Ellis, 2009) (v) ** - Clunkier and not quite as imaginative as the earlier entries - maybe because of the added burden of 3D - but gains momentum as it goes along and turns into a nice & nasty little horror movie.

The Informant! (Steven Soderbergh, 2009) (v) ***

Crazy Heart (Scott Cooper, 2009) (v) - I'm not inclined to say anything bad about this movie. It's well-intentioned and tasteful, but there aren't any surprises and none of the relationships are believable outside of the context of a conventional redemption story. Bridges is good, but no better than he was in any number of other movies. And I don't think this performance is up there with the ones in Fat City, Cutter's Way, Starman, The Fabulous Baker Boys, The Fisher King, and, especialy, The Big Lebowski. This is a case of "mainstream" critical opinion being 10 to 20 years behind reality.

In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-wai, 2000) (v) ***

Gamer (Neveldine/Taylor, 2009) (v) * - Neveldine/Taylor play it safe and it backfires. The highlights are the gonzo elements - the live-action "Second Life"-type game "Society", Michael C. Hall's performance - which are sprinkled into an otherwise fairly conventional, Paul W.S. Anderson-like 80's-action movie update. Now, I like Anderson's movies - they're modest and effective - but I expect more from the guys who made Crank: High Voltage, currently the high-water mark of post-Matrix American action movies.

The Beaches of Agnes (Agnes Varda, 2008) (v) ** - Beautiful and touching, but also (and maybe I'm just being a cynic) a bit calculating in the way that Varda softens her ambitions and her possessiveness of Demy's legacy. Overall, doesn't reach The Gleaners & I's level of cultural and artistic criticism, but still very nice as a ciné-memoir.

Thirst (Park Chan-wook, 2009) (v) ** - Starts out as if it will be a piece of Cronenbergian body horror, but mutates into a meandering exploration of the vampire story as Park approaches the concept from four or five different directions. Because of this the movie doesn't build narrative or thematic momentum, but individual scenes and sequences are quite powerful and striking (my favorite is the final Mah Jong game).

Synecdoche, NY (Charlie Kaufman, 2008) (v) **** - Even the choices that at first don't seem to work (the perpetually burning house, for instance) end up paying off.

Yes Man (Peyton Reed, 2008) (v) * - I am a snob: I prefer Jim Carrey in high-brow movies (Eternal Sunshine) or ones where he talks out of his ass. This aspirational comedy is inoffensive and Peyton Reed is, at least, an actual filmmaker, but it still seems like everyone involved is slumming.

Avatar (James Cameron, 2009) *** - 21st Century Technology with a 19th Century sensibility. For me, the way the "Avatar" technology works in the fiction is a metaphor for how Cameron hopes his 3D technology will work in the real world: that it will create an enveloping experience that will radically shift the users/viewers point-of-view. His experiment isn't quite a success: his conception of the alien p.o.v. is too familiar, too conventional. But I still found the movie thrilling, moving, and interesting. Just not as transformative as it could have been.

The Proposal (Anne Fletcher, 2009) (v) - This is the kind of movie that makes me feel that I'm on the right track by taking an auteurist approach to cinema. Why? Because as much as anti-auteurists like to go on and on about the importance of writers, stories, etc., the reality is that this story is no more nonsensical than those of 90% of the classic screwball comedies. And in the hands of someone like Frank Capra or Leo McCarey or George Cukor, I can easily imagine just about everything here working perfectly. Not the bit with the eagle and the dog, though: that would have required at least a Chaplin to make it work.

A Perfect Getaway (David Twohy, 2009) (v) *** - I'm not joking when I compare this to Hitchcock.

The Hurt Locker (Kathryn Bigelow, 2009) (v) ** - Solid action movie with a very good performance by Jeremy Renner.

Fantastic Mr. Fox (Wes Anderson, 2009) (v) * - The key phrase for this set of capsule reviews is "I enjoyed this, but..." Here, the "but" leads to feelings that the middle-class striving and father/son issues are bizarrely out-of-place. Though they're obviously organic to Anderson and Baumbach, they feel crammed into Dahl's story as if any children's book could have given them the kind of vehicle they needed.

Moon (Duncan Jones, 2009) (v) ** - Good, solid sci-fi movie that ultimately can't quite keep up with its premise.

Invictus (Clint Eastwood, 2009) (v) *** - Understated and unconventional in the way that it looks at the sports underdog story through the lens of cultural & historical details that most movies of this sort gloss over or fudge (i.e. Miracle, Glory Road).

Flooding with Love for the Kid (Zach Oberzan, 2009) *** - A very moving experience, for me, partly because I was caught up in Oberzan's obvious passion for the material and partly because his approach brings out something truly profound in the material that the "Hollywood" approach would smother.

Up in the Air (Jason Reitman, 2009) (v) - I had no trouble watching this and thought it was enjoyable enough for what it is, but "what it is" is a slick, slight movie with only a tangential and opportunistic relationship to reality. I'm more bugged by the idea that people are taking this seriously than by the movie itself, but it's crazy to be bugged by what other people think about movies, right?

Southland Tales (Richard Kelly, 2007) (v) ** - Each scene feels like a big slab of weirdness and, during the first half, the link between one scene and another, one character and another is so opaque that I got a sense of just sitting in this weirdness - not moving through it or able to make connections. A pattern does emerge, though, and the movie ends up, if not completely earning its "difficult" earlier half at least making up for it with some insightful and funny satirical vision of contemporary America.

The Brothers Bloom (Rian Johnson, 2008) (v) * - Hey Nick - you are absolutely right: Mark Ruffalo knows how to wear a hat.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Punishermax #1-3 by Jason Aaron and Steve Dillon

I have to admit that I like the bizarre naming conventions of mainstream super-hero comics that Tom Spurgeon makes fun of. "Punishermax" isn't as gloriously, needlessly confusing and baroque as, say, Final Crisis Aftermath Dance, but there's still something off about it. For one thing, shouldn't the "Max" Punisher title be the one where he's running around as a Frankenstein monster killing zombies? So far, this is much more like Punishermin or Punishercomparativelylowkey.

Punishermax is the follow up to Marvel's MAX-imprint Punisher series, written first by Garth Ennis and titled The Punisher MAX, which changed to The Punisher: Frank Castle MAX after Ennis left and Duane Swierczynski took over.* Jason Aaron's brief seems to be to MAX-ify certain elements of the Marvel U that Ennis had left out of his MAX stories. (As far as I know, the only Marvel U character in Ennis' MAX series was Nick Fury, but I could be missing someone). First up, the Kingpin.

So far, this is a "just OK" Punisher comic: there's nothing revelatory about it. Unlike Ennis' work, I doubt this has the power to convert doubters into Punisher fans. Aaron's take on Frank Castle is pretty standard and what he's doing with Wilson Fisk a.k.a. the Kingpin seems like retcon-101. Part of the appeal of crazy-ass super-hero comic villains is that they are larger than life, so making a more "realistic" version of the Kingpin undercuts the character and turns him into a much more conventional crime fiction bad guy. The original villains Ennis created for his Punisher MAX series were more copelling and had a lot more personality than what's on display here.

And though I like Steve Dillon's work in general (he is one of the few "mainstream" artists for whom I've stood in line to get a sketch and signature), his work here reminds me too strongly of the pre-MAX Marvel Knights Punisher series he did with Ennis, which was heavy on slapstick, splatterstick, and jokey black comedy. Dillon's deadpan style is perfect for that kind of over-the-top take on the concept, but when combined with Aaron's understated, more conventional approach it becomes a bit underwhelming. Dillon and Aaron both put all the pieces in the right place, but the picture that emerges isn't (yet) that compelling.

*Gregg Hurwitz also wrote five issues in between Ennis and Swierczynski.

Screening Log: December 2009 and Early January 2010

(500) Days of Summer (Marc Webb, 2009) (v) * - You know how sometimes people complain that film critics can't enjoy movies because they watch too many of them? In general, I think that's a bogus complaint, but, here, specifically, I think that I would probably have enjoyed this movie a lot more had I not spent the last year catching up with Hong Sang-soo's very clear-eyed relationship movies and trying to watch the rest of the Rohmer films I still needed to see. That's probably completely unfair to this movie, but, as I think about it, it's much less unfair to compare this to Annie Hall, and when a Woody Allen movie feels less self-involved and self-indulgent, well... Anyway, the leads are definitely charming and there are some very nice moments (hence the one star rating). I can definitely see why this is a breath of fresh air for audiences who are more or less resigned to stuff like He's Just Not That Into You, but it just didn't do it for me.

State of Play (Kevin MacDonald, 2009) (v) ** - A modest political thriller, with a lot going for it, and, thankfully, no big point to make, although I suspect it's depiction of "how journalism works" is more-or-less b.s. If movies were still made like they were in 1955, Phil Karlson could have turned this into a B-movie classic. Instead, in MacDonald's hands, it's an A-picture that happens to be a lot less bloated than it could have been. This is my favorite Russell Crowe performance in quite some time, and the supporting cast is also pretty strong (even though Rachel McAdams continues to not bring much to the table).

Taking Woodstock (Ang Lee, 2009) (v) ** - A modest comedy/personal memoir that would make a nice double-bill with A Serious Man. Demetri Martin is a good performer, but not an actor, so the scenes requiring him to do more than give a funny line reading have a hole in their center. But there are enough other, interesting observations around the edges to make up for that.

Time Piece (Jim Henson, 1965) (v) (s) ***** - I can't believe it took me so long to find this on the internet. Wow. Among the best "new to me" movies I've seen all year.

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (Gore Verbinski, 2003) (v) (r) **** and Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (Gore Verbinski, 2006) (v) ** - I have more to say about these movies and at some point it might show up on my blog.

Taken (Pierre Morel, 2008) (v) (r) ** - Better the second time around, in that I know when to pay attention to the awesome parts and I know when the lame parts are coming so I can sit back and read X-Men comics.

Dancer in the Dark (Lars von Trier, 2000) (v) ** - Ambitious, interesting, and daring, but too on-the-nose for my tastes. I mean, I know that's part of the point, but that's why it's a question of taste more than anything else.

G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra (Stephen Sommers, 2009) (v) * - Enjoyably dumb action movie.

Rabid (David Cronenberg, 1977) (v) ****

Precious (Lee Daniels, 2009) (v) **

Where the Wild Things Are (Spike Jonze, 2009) (v) - Every visual choice, every design choice makes perfect sense for the kind of movie Jonze and Eggers seemed to want to be making, but I the movie they seemed to want to make is pretty bizarre. Nothing wrong with bizarre, per se, but this seems less constructively bizarre and more symptomatically/pathologically bizarre - like, I feel I learned a lot about how Eggers & Jonze view childhood, growing up, the parent-child relationship, the best way to deal with anger, etc. that I really didn't need/want to know. I also thought it was kind of weird/curious/notable that so much of the movie reminded me of The Science of Sleep and/or Synecdoche, NY (both of which I liked a lot more than this).

Extract (Mike Judge, 2009) (v) *** - This doesn't have the comic highs of Office Space or Idiocracy, but it manages to sustain its comedy in a way that those movies don't. Appealingly modest.

The Hangover (Todd Phillips, 2009) (v) * - Promising opening.

Sherlock Holmes (Guy Ritchie, 2009) * - Like Star Trek: enjoyable to watch, depressing to think about. Take (1): This is the Batman movie for people who found The Dark Knight to be too dark, too gloomy, and too serious. Take (2): There's something desperate about a movie that's trying to be so up to date, but, at the same time, is driven by character dynamics taken from an 80-year-old play and has taken its trappings from 10-20 year old super-hero comics. I much prefer a more straightforwardly "square" entertainment (like National Treasure).

The Five Obstructions (Lars von Trier and Jorgen Leth, 2003) (v) *** - The key movie for unlocking Lars von Trier?

The Perfect Human (Jorgen Leth, 1967) (v) ***

Gomorra (Matteo Garrone, 2008) (v) ***

Funny People (Judd Apatow, 2009) (v) * - Apatow seems to diminish as a director with each movie. Funny People feels haphazardly put together: there doesn't seem to be too much logic of how he puts shots together and his reliance on improvisation means that scenes often feel like a reel of "highlights" instead of organic conversations. That said, Apatow is attempting to delve into Albert Brooks territory here and there are some great moments when Apatow-the-writer doesn't let Apatow-the-director do him in. Plus, Adam Sandler is very good.

Four Christmases (Seth Gordon, 2008) (v) * - The first two Christmases are pretty funny, but then it seems to sputter out. And the insightful humor is eventually done in by the clichéd, sitcom-y humor.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, 2001) (v) (r) ****

Me and Orson Welles (Richard Linklater, 2008) ** - Nicely done, in some respects (I loved the recreation of Welles' Caesar), but a lot to quibble with, in others. The main problem, as I see it, is one of casting: Christian McKay "does" a great Orson Welles, but he is about ten years too old for the part. A small detail that changes a lot. For one thing, part of what made Welles so special was that he was so young. For another, the film sets up Welles as a sexual rival with a young actor played by Zac Efron, and the age difference seems to skew how this plays out, so it's all more conventional than it should have been.

Violent Saturday (Richard Fleischer, 1955) (v) *** - Some thoughts, here.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: November

The Limits of Control (Jim Jarmusch, 2009) (v) *** - Trippy.

Platform (Jia Zhang Ke, 2000) (v) **** - Time still changes everything.

House of Bamboo (Sam Fuller, 1955) (v) *** - Location, location, location.

The Box (Richard Kelly, 2009) *** - I.e., Richard Kelly's Eyes Wide Shut.

The Roaring Twenties (Raoul Walsh, 1939) (v) (r) **** - Time changes everything.

The Plow That Broke the Plains (Pare Lorentz, 1936) (v) ****

Humpday (Lynn Shelton, 2009) (v) * - Points for attempt to subvert Apatowian morality.

Little Odessa (James Gray, 1994) (v) ***

The Big Mouth (Jerry Lewis, 1967) ***

The Matrix Revolutions (The Wachowski Brothers, 2003) (v) (r) ** - I liked this much better on second viewing. I think it's rather ballsy of the Brothers to stage an elaborate James Cameron-style action sequence featuring characters that we've never really seen before and that no audience anywhere at anytime ever gave two shits about.

The Matrix Reloaded (The Wachowski Brothers, 2003) (v) (r) **

Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2003) (v) ***

The Girlfriend Experience (Steven Soderbergh, 2009) (v)

Everlasting Moments (Jan Troell, 2008) (v) *** - Subtle and moving.

Woman on the Beach (Hong Sang-soo, 2006) (v) **** - At this point, my favorite of Hong's movies. I think I'll have more to say about this later, when I compose my "best of the decade" comments.

Up (Pete Docter, 2009) (v) ** - Entertaining and, for the most, inventive, but the action-packed final Act hits all the familiar Pixar notes and the story itself grabs onto Spielberg-style emotional manipulation instead of reaching for its own kind of profundity à la Wall-E and Ratatouille.

Comedy of Power (Claude Chabrol, 2006) (v) **

Predator 2 (Stephen Hopkins, 1990) (v) (r) * - Enjoyable hodge-podge of 1980s action movie clichés.

Little Big Horn (Charles Marquis Warren, 1951) (v) *** - Trust Manny Farber.

Antichrist (Lars von Trier, 2009) (v) * - I'll have more to say about this later, but, for now all I have is: "Live by the stunt, die by the stunt."

Universal Soldiers (Roland Emmerich, 1992) (v) - See here.

Metropolitan (Whit Stillman, 1990) (v) (r) ****

Elephant (Gus Van Sant, 2003) (v) (r) ** - As a take on an event - or as an "event" in its own right - it comes up short. As an experiment in perspective and long-take, though, it's effective and moving (if a bit slight). I do think, though, that the tracking shot through the cafeteria, following the three girls, is better than any of the similar moves Alfonso Cuaron pulls in Y Tu Mama Tambien.

A Serious Man (The Coen Bros., 2009) **** - This movie inspired my new blog. I think it's pretty great: the Coens have, in a way, made an "inside-out" version of the kind of movie they usually make. Their movies always ask their audiences to look for clues, patterns, webs of meaning (i.e., the importance placed on names and "nomenclature" in The Big Lebowski, the way P.O.V. shots work in No Country for Old Men), but A Serious Man is about that search for meaning and the (im)possibility that we can find any kind of answer in a story. Or, rather, the possibility that instead of an answer all we can ever hope for is mere surmise.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: Halloween Weekend

Predator (John McTiernan, tktk) (v) (r) ** - Truly, a strange movie: the sci-fi actioner that pares itself down as it goes along, so that the last act - far from being an fx-extravaganza - is a nearly naked Schwarzenegger playing boy scout in the jungle.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine (Gavin Hood, 2009) (v) * - I really like the second string Marvel movies, especially when I catch them on cable TV: they tend to keep things simple and have the easy-going feel of solid B-movies. From that angle, the problem with Wolverine is that it tries to hard and too many moving parts (all those characters, all that mythology). From another angle, though, it doesn't try hard enough: more visually imaginative filmmakers could have gotten a lot out of Frank Miller's Lone Wolf and Cub-inspired take on the character as a modern samurai. The movie ends up being enjoyable to watch, but disappointing and depressing to think about afterwards (not unlike the recent Star Trek thing).

Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009) (v) (r) ***

Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945) (v) (r) ***

Return of the Living Dead (Dan O'Bannon, 1985) (v) (r) **** - My favorite 1980s splatterstick movie.

The Haunting (Robert Wise, 1963) (v) (r) ** - Big-budget, big-production version of a Val Lewton movie shows that Wise hadn't forgotten everything that he learned. Cinephile that I am, I prefer the more subtle touch of the Lewton films, but appreciate that this one towers over most of the ghost movies that have come after.

Man in the Shadows (Kent Jones, 2007) (v) *** - A lot of the time, these filmmaker-centric documentaries will be informative, without ever really seeming necessary, but Kent Jones' look at Val Lewton's horror films is a great piece of criticism and a very good movie in its own right, particularly in the way Jones builds his argument more through how he orchestrates images from Lewton's films than through the voice-over narration.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon

Screening Log: October

Jerichow (Christian Petzold, 2008) (v) *** - An exploration of the nuances and biases of viewer identification, in stripped-down B-movie drag. It would all be a bit too clinical, academic, and even pedantic, if it weren't for Himli Sözer's performance, which gives the movie an emotional depth to match its intellectual ambitions.

Still Walking (Hirokazu Koreeda, 2008) (v) *** - If I had more free time for writing, I'd try to turn my thoughts on this and on 35 Shots of Rum into a longer post. For now though, all I have is a question: is there any other major director who had as narrow focus in terms of themes and subject matter as Yasujiro Ozu?

Scandal Sheet (Phil Karlson, 1952) (v) **

Night and Day (Hong Sang-soo, 2008) **** - My thoughts on this movie still are nowhere near fully-formed: I've been mulling it over since I saw it earlier this week and moments from it are haunting my waking life. Right now second only to Two Lovers as my film of the year.

Europa (Lars von Trier, 1991) (v) *** - I'm glad I finally caught up with this movie, which would make an interesting double bill with Inglourious Basterds. I've liked every von Trier movie I've seen, but, until now, I've managed to miss most of the "major" ones.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam, 1975) (v) (r) *****

Spectres of the Spectrum (Craig Baldwin, 1999) (v) (r) **

E.T. (Steven Spielberg, 1982) (v) (r) *** - I used to say I preferred this to Spielberg's "later, stodgier, darker" work, but, on revisitation, the movie (or at least the first half) was creakier and stiffer than I remembered. Too often good, lively business - like the kids playing Dungeons & Dragons - stops dead for poetry-of-suburbia image-making. The young actors are all good - they're very cute and funny - but they seem to be trapped by Spielberg's compositions in a way that the more seasoned actors in Close Encounters and Jaws aren't. It isn't until everything is in place and things start to move that the movie starts working. (I had a similar problem with Ratatouille, and, watching E.T. this time I kept thinking "Pixar avant la lettre" - sharing Pixar's movies' usual problem of having a strong half and a weak half). I don't mean it as (much of) a dig to say that Spielberg makes a better action filmmaker than he does a poet. The chase on the bicycles at the end of the film is a masterful sequence: built off of a particular kind of suburban sub-development geography, it's rousing, suspenseful, and expressive of the characters (exactly how great action movies should work). The kids on bikes riding down those terraced hills? That's real poetry.

The Curse of the Demon (Jacques Tourneur, 1957) (v) ****

City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931) (v) ***** - To my shame as a cinephile, this is the first time I've watched City Lights from start to finish, though I've seen numerous excerpts from it over the years. I'm now inspired to come with a aphorism along the lines of: "An excerpt from a truly great movie will only mislead you as to the nature of its greatness."

35 Shots of Rum (Claire Denis, 2008) ****

Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954) (v) (r) ***** - 50 years later, Rear Window is still more audacious, more formally daring than just about any of the "entertainments" that have come out of Hollywood since.

Year One (Harold Ramis, 2009) (v) ** - Everything here feels tossed off (some scenes just end, there's very little in the way of elaborate gag-building), which is a little disappointing coming from the director of Groundhog Day and vacation, but turns out to be the perfect approach to this kind of movie. I generally don't like to praise movies (especially comedies) for their low ambitions, but I thought this was enjoyably old fashioned and down to earth in its approach to its "high concept".

The Signal (David Bruckner, Dan Bush, Jacob Gentry , 2007) (v) * - Neat idea, hobbled by inconsistent/uneven execution.

High School Confidential (Jack Arnold, 1958) (v) *** - There's a mini-genre of movies that I like to think of as "The Kids Aren't Alright" movies that includes, well, Kids, River's Edge, and, going somewhat farther afield All About Lily Chou Chou and Afterschool. High School Confidential is, if not the "best" of them, then, at least, my favorite.

Paranormal Activity (Oren Peli, 2009) * - Not a "real scary" movie, but, rather, a "fun scary" movie that is clever enough to get you to do most of its work for it. The ending is a misjudgment and the movie overall is no big deal, but it is made with thought and is a more than worthy diversion. The subtext - about finding out about the true extent of your romantic partner's psychological/emotional baggage only after you move in with them - gives the movie a little more substance, but it isn't explored or developed as similar material is in movies like Rosemary's Baby and The Brood.

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (Cristi Puiu, 2005) (v) ** - I'm sure someone has already written an article/essay explaining exactly why we shouldn't lump these "New Romanian Cinema" movies together, because each director has their own style, concerns, but, from where I'm standing, they have enough in common in terms of what questions they're interested in (namely those about how personal life is shaped political systems) and how they go about answering those questions (through a symbol-heavy, realist approach to dramatic "everyday" events) that I'm comfortable talking about them as a group and comparing one against the others. In this case, though I liked Lazarescu, it's my least favorite of the RNC movies I've seen so far, because the symbolism here feels just a bit too generic - the specificity dissolves as the movie goes on and it turns into a more general anti-bureaucratic satire, rather than one that is rooted to its time and place.

Genesis of a Meal (Luc Moullet, 1978) (v) **** - Funny and insightful throughout, but the last movement - where he engages in self-reflection/analysis - really takes the movie to a deeper level: complicating what we've seen, but also clarifying the dilemma of what it means to be a good global citizen.

Anatomy of a Relationship (Luc Moullet, 1976) (v) **** - Moullet continues to impress. I described this to a friend as a Woody Allen movie for grown-ups, which really isn't fair to Woody. Maybe a better way to put it would have been: a Woody Allen movie that doesn't have to play by the rules of American commercial cinema.

The Phenix City Story (Phil Karlson, 1955) (v) *** - I thought it was somewhat appropriate that I watched this right after Capitalism.

Capitalism: A Love Story (Michael Moore, 2009) * - The first half of the movie is as good as anything Moore has done, with many black comic WTF? moments. Not coincidentally, Moore stays in the background during this part. He steps to the fore in the second half, and the movie takes a turn for the worse. His schtick is simply uninspired: he seems to be going through the motions (and the low level employees he's dealing with also seem to be going through the motions), which takes the edge off the righteous anger that has been building up. There are other problems, too (deliberately obscuring the difference between an economic system and a political system, glossing over Obama's role in the push for the bank bailouts), but it's the half-assed nature of his stunt that does the movie in.

Around a Small Mountain (Jacques Rivette, 2009) *** - A work of a master: not a masterpiece, but a statement or summing up, not unlike A Prairie Home Companion.

Afterschool (Antonio Campos, 2008) (v) ** - When a film is this well made and this thoughtful, does it matter that it isn't very "likable"? That it keeps its distance and discourages the usual kind of emotional connection/response to its characters? I'd say that it probably shouldn't. Still, this works better when Campas seems to be observing (all the stuff with the kids) than when he seems to be making a point (a lot of the stuff with the adults). And speaking of making a point: I think reading the movie purely for its "message" does it a disservice. Moment-to-moment what's onscreen is too complicated, too unresolved, to be reduced in that way.

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007) (v) *** - More on the theme "the personal is political" from the "New Romanian Cinema". For some reason, watching this movie - which I really loved - reminded me of a movie I don't much care for: Y Tu Mama Tambien. Maybe because I imagine that the relationship between the two friends here will fall apart like that of the two friends in Mama (even though there's really no other similarities between the pairs)? My favorite scene here is her conversation with her boyfriend following the extremely awkward dinner party.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (David Yates, 2009) *** - Truly magical.

Key:

(v) = Seen on home video (dvd, dvr, etc.).
(r) = Not my first viewing.
(s) = Short film.

Star system ("borrowed" from the Chicago Reader)

No stars = Not recommended
* = Redeeming feature(s)
** = Recommended
*** = Highly recommended
**** = "Masterpiece"
***** = A place in my personal pantheon