It’s not paranoia if they’re really after you
Just back from seeing Gus Van Sant’s latest elusive daydream Paranoid Park, and I’m left feeling slightly disappointed, though I did find a lot to like about it. Its place in the Van Sant canon might best be defined by what it lacks: the spry humor of My Own Private Idaho; the chilling verité-meets-horror-movie beauty of Gerry; the “wait whaaat?” innovation of Elephant. These things are not present. What remains is an uncomfortably distant portrait of adolescent confusion; I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what the movie is trying to say about teenagers, but I can say that its dreamy lyricism and fragmented storytelling (is storytelling the right word?) is likely to get under your skin and, in certain moments, possibly take your breath away. I was disappointed that the Chris Doyle photography is not as stunning as I was led to believe, however. Was the projection out of focus at my theater, or is Manohla Dargis just seeing things? Also, the use of non-professional actors works up to a point, but some of the line readings are just embarassing, particularly in the voice-over narration read by young star Gabe Nevins. I’d like to defend this MySpace-derived casting as a victory for authenticity and independence, but at times it’s just a distraction. Still, I do recommend this film. Van Sant’s vision is consistently interesting and these days you can’t underestimate the value of movies that feel like personal, handmade, organic works by ambitious artists. That’s worth a lot, even if the end result is less than satisfying.
Resisting the Impulse to Make a Lewd “Bucket List” Pun
Roger Ebert and I aren’t on the same page much anymore these days.
I admire much of the legendary critic’s work, and his elegant, populist style helped make the wide world of cinema more accessible to myself and countless others. But in recent years, it seems to me that Ebert’s once sharp critical faculties have dulled into an outlook more traditional and banal than what I expect from a critic of his stature. Not long ago he returned to full-time reviewing after a series of surgeries and cancer treatments, and while his insistent humanity and dedication in the face of dire circumstances (he’s currently living without the ability of speech) is certainly inspiring, the critical writing he’s done since his comeback has mostly confirmed my doubts. His top-ten list for 2007 was particularly baffling—The Great Debaters and The Kite Runner were two of the best pictures of the year? Juno in the #1 slot? Really?
So I was thrilled to see Ebert in top form this week with his eviscerating review of The Bucket List. What I like about the review isn’t that the man is being harsh, but that he’s using his experiences as a cancer survivor to expose this movie as the hollow, insulting lie that it surely is. Of course I have not seen The Bucket List. But I can still perceive Ebert’s complaints as cutting insights, explaining the various and sundry reasons why the movie is such an offensive load of bullshit. It can be tempting to dismiss movies like The Bucket List as harmless fluff—it may not be a great film, this reasoning goes, but it’s entertaining and innocuous. Ebert himself has taken up roughly this position many times. But here he reminds us how dangerous it can be; he knows all too well the hurtful falsity of a movie that “thinks dying of cancer is a laff riot followed by a dime-store epiphany.” Thumbs up for that.
A Quick Plug (While He’s Away)
Allow me to plug this blog’s namesake, the excellent novel Zeroville by Steve Erickson (which, in turn, takes its name from Godard’s dystopian classic Alphaville). I was a stranger to Erickson before reading this book, but it seems he’s been churning out underappreciated novels since the mid-’80s, getting blurbed all the while by the likes of Thomas Pynchon and Jonathan Lethem.
It’s a novel about movies—the ultimate novel about movies. I’ll let the Amazon link above describe the plot (the page also includes a pretty good interview with Erickson), and just add that it’s a quick and breezy read with enough interesting characters and good writing to appeal even to non-cinephiles, though the book is really aimed at movie-nuts. There are a lot of coded references to various real-life people and movies that are never identified by name; you sort of have to know, or do some research. Erickson claims in said interview that “the stuff about movies had to support the story, it had to support the characters and be informed by them…It’s not a DVD guide,” which is true to an extent, but I think the book’s real subject is very much the Movies (his proper-nounization, not mine) and not Vikar Jerome, fascinating character though he may be. For cine-nerds like myself, though, Zeroville is a much more illuminating, crucial read than any DVD guide.
A Newer Beginning, or: Top Ten Ways To Waste Everyone’s Time
Because no one demanded it, and because lord knows the internet could use another depository of poorly articulated opinions on arts/entertainment/pop-cultcha (but mainly movies here), I’ve decided to once again (after a couple of false starts) saddle up and ride into the cold, mirthless landscape of blogging. Where to begin? How about with that most facile of time-honored commentarial pursuits: the Top Ten List. Tonight’s top ten list, Paul, will cover a subject that’s already been exhausted in every other like-minded corner of these American interwebs. I speak, of course, of THE BEST MOTION PICTURES OF 2007.
As anyone who’s been paying attention can tell you, 2007 was an uncommonly great year for movies. It almost came out of nowhere. Years from now, future critics (and bloggers, I guess) will be able to theorize on 2007’s position within the larger framework of movie history, how it happened and what it meant; without the benefit of hindsight, all we’ve got now is a heaping, overflowing, delicious-smelling pile of awesome films to look back on. (I should note here that while ‘07 saw a fine bunch of international releases, the exceptional quality I’m talking about mainly refers to good ol’ North America.) The notorious January dumping-ground season has kicked in by now, so I’m already nostalgic:
THE LIST:
1. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic). A great movie, according to the definition I’m about to arbitrarily introduce, is one that haunts your consciousness for days, weeks, lifetimes. All the films on this list had that effect on me, none more than Andrew Dominik’s knockout quasi-Western about the birth of the celebrity mythos in America. Some people have complained about the film’s length and pacing but those people are idiots. It’s not like this is Antonioni or something. If you’re bored during a movie this rich in visual beauty, memorable performances, narrative intrigue and poignant meaning, well, you don’t deserve to watch movies. This is an achievement of ’70s-sized proportions.
2. Zodiac (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic). Movie politics such as they are in America, the March release date of this brilliant police procedural precluded year-end attention and award nominations, but the right people are still championing this as the new classic that it is. David Fincher, a stylist who previously made films beloved by 15-year-olds just discovering “cool” movies, reached maturity by giving us a serial-killer film without a serial killer, one that’s more interested in the investigation and the obsession it engenders than in the mechanics of murder. He also makes stunning use of digital technology, creating cinema’s most noble use of CGI effects thus far, in his creation of a ’70s California that’s both recognizable and otherworldly.
3. There Will Be Blood (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
I love this big, weird, beautiful, confusing, crazily ambitious mess of an epic. Daniel Day-Lewis may be cribbing his vocal stylings from John Huston here but he’s still probably the best actor of his generation, and pairing him with P.T. Anderson was a stroke of genius on somebody’s part. It helps to see this as one big character study, showing the arc of the oilman’s career and his relationships with three different men—his son, a guy who claims to be his long-lost brother, and that creepy-ass preacher who may or may not have a creepy twin brother. The narrative thus sometimes feels aimless, but this isn’t boring for a second, and the unbelievable final scene in the bowling alley is already the stuff of legend.
4. Sweeney Todd (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
Tim Burton gives cinematic life to Stephen Sondheim’s genius musical, thereby creating the first genuinely dark work of a director who usually traffics in a safe, precious faux-darkness. More importantly, he’s created what might be the best Hollywood musical in half a century (South Park movie notwithstanding).
5. Atonement (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
As J.R. Jones pointed out, movie adaptations of great novels are usually snoozefests. Usually, the makers of such adaptations don’t care much for the medium of cinema and prefer to do a bland transliteration of the novel in question. I normally keep a safe distance from stuff like The English Patient, but I’m glad I made an exception here, because director Joe Wright is himself the exception to the rule: a real filmmaker who adapts literary works into brilliantly cinematic, lively events. Come for the elaborate tracking shots and artful lighting, stay for the heartbreaking story of a doomed romance.
6. Eastern Promises (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
Critic J. Hoberman calls David Cronenberg “North America’s preeminent narrative filmmaker” (the “north” qualifier is there ’cause Crone’s a canuck) and, between 2005’s stunner A History of Violence and this masterful genre peek into the Russian mafia, it’s hard to disagree. The ‘Berg was always awesome, of course, but he’s now serving as a model of how a brilliant fringe artist can integrate into the mainstream without “selling out” or losing his edge (well, I guess that “model” is just something like, “continue to be incredibly talented and take on challenging projects”—easier said than done, I imagine). Plus, Viggo Mortensen may be the coolest man alive. He gives Day-Lewis a run for his money in the competition for my favorite performance of the year.
7. Gone Baby Gone (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
Ben Affleck redeems himself in the guise of director while his lil’ brother Casey continues to be one of the most interesting young actors out there (2007 was Casey’s year; between his surly-but-conscientious private detective here and his commanding turn as Bob Ford in my #1 pick above, he’s surely one of the year’s MVPs). Working-class Boston and pained human drama is evoked more effectively than in the overrated Mystic River. A haunting conclusion. You want alllll this.
8. The Darjeeling Limited (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
At some point between 2004’s disappointing The Life Aquatic and mid-2007, I pretty much turned on Wes Anderson. Like others I grew tired of his familiar quirks, and even more tired of the crappy indie quirkfests they inspired. But never forget, ladies and gentlemen, that while Wes Anderson may have launched a thousand forgettable twee “comedies,” the man himself is the real deal, and Darjeeling did away with my inner hater.
9. Sunshine (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
A truly great science-fiction movie is a rarity. Sunshine, welcome to the canon.
10. Knocked Up (IMDb, Wiki, Metacritic).
As we all know, Judd Apatow kicked comedy’s ass last year. Kicked it good. Comedy still has bruises, on its sore ass. Thanks Judd!!
Honorable Mentions: Paprika, Margot at the Wedding, Bug, The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, Superbad, The Orphanage, My Kid Could Paint That, Into the Wild, Ratatouille, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, The Mist, 3:10 to Yuma, Hot Fuzz, Brand Upon the Brain, Michael Clayton, Black Snake Moan, The Savages.
Most Underrated: Fay Grim.
Hal Hartley was a pioneer of the droll indie comedy at a time when the phrase “indie comedy” wasn’t an oxymoron. Over the past few years he’s been applying his unique sensibility to unexpected genres—a fairytale romance, a science-fiction thinker, and now a political thriller. Nobody paid attention, and those who did mostly panned it or were just baffled, but for me this was one of the most oddly beautiful films in recent memory (too lumpy and confused to make it in my top ten, but I wanted to highlight it separately from the runners-up listed above). As in any self-respecting political thriller, the globe-hopping narrative is convoluted to the point of incomprehensibility. But Hartley’s poignantly stylized dialogue and off-kilter mise-en-scene, as well as a luminous performance from Parker Posey (who does the best work of her career here), make this a fascinating curiousity. Also, Jeff Goldblum gets his juiciest role in years as an FBI agent who may or may not be on Posey’s side when she gets mixed up in international intrigue while trying to find her missing husband (the title character of Hartley’s Henry Fool, to which this is nominally a sequel). And, as in the best of Hartley, the melancholic finale is a stunner.
Most Overrated: No Country for Old Men. I’m sick of talking about this, so let’s just say it was a major disappointment for me. I’m a fan of the Coens but this is what, their seventh- or eighth-best movie? It’s a neat and tidy package, as formalists are quick to assert, but what’s inside? Boredom, mostly.
Best Re-Release: This is a fake category so I can mention Blade Runner: The Final Cut. For all the good new movies of 2007, I think my most transformative moviegoing experience of the year was seeing Ridley Scott’s unspeakably gorgeous SF masterpiece on the big screen.
Best Repertory Screening in Chicago: I didn’t take nearly enough advantage of the Music Box’s Robert Altman retrospective early in the year but I did have the presence of mind to go see Nashville, which was a pretty damn important thing to do. Also a few terrific items in Jonathan Rosenbaum’s 1950s series at the Film Center, most memorably a forgotten 1953 anthology film called The Story of Three Loves and the wonderful Howard Hawks western The Big Sky.
So ends this absurdly long-winded inaugural post. I may or may not ever write in this blog again…stay tuned.
