Dysfunction Junction: Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited

I have a really strong relationship with Wes Anderson movies, but it's not an easy one. His pictures are an acquired taste, a difficult mixture of painful human emotion, quirky characters, and deadpan comedy. The tone is often so dry it's hard to figure out how to feel when it's all said and done. I know plenty of people who don't understand why I find Anderson's work so appealing. To them, he keeps repeating himself movie after movie, and the jokes just aren't funny anymore. In my eyes, I'd have to say maybe they've missed the point.

Anderson's movies, despite their recognizable settings, do not take place in the real world. From the opening scene, he establishes that his characters and their actions are a creation completely his own, and so it's OK if what happens to them is not exactly plausible. It may seem like a stretch for some, but with each movie, Anderson is very careful when it comes to developing the environment in which the story will unfold. The idea is to jump in from the get go or you're going to drown before the half way point.

Aside from Bottle Rocket (1996), I've admired all of Anderson's movies after the first viewing. Not to say I've known what to make of them right away. On the surface, they're deceptively simple and a bit theatrical. The beauty of Wes Anderson is that his movies gradually reveal themselves to you the more you let them in. I read reviews from critics who see the movie once, report exactly what is on the screen in front of them, and move on. The best art, I think, is not that easy to examine. I can say whether or not Anderson's movies have affected me after a single go through; I just can't really form a real opinion until I've been back at least once.

The biggest complaint regarding Wes Anderson movies is that he always explores the same themes. This is a strange criticism to me, as most filmmakers spend their entire careers tackling the same issues. They may not do it front and center each time as Anderson does, but that doesn't mean it's not there and easy to see. Anderson likes to deal with family dysfunction, particularly when it pertains to fathers and sons. Up until his latest, The Darjeeling Limited, it's been a living father. But as we discover soon after the new picture opens, the father has passed away and his sons are still trying to find a way to cope with it.

The fathers in Anderson's movies have sons who cannot connect with them, mainly because the father makes himself emotionally unattainable. It's a setback that has worked its way into their pysches, forcing the sons to learn how to be men on their own terms. The father/son dynamic is of course crucial to The Darjeeling Limited, but this time we don't know what kind of relationship the sons had with their father. We never see him, know what he did for a living, or hear what kind of man he was. All we know is that his three sons are fighting hard within, and with each other, to hold on to his memory.

Disappointment in the fathers has been important in Anderson's earlier works (real fathers in The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, a father figure in Rushmore), but this is the first picture where we've seen the sons have to deal with the grief of losing one. Interesting that the father is completely absent from The Darjeeling Limited; while many say Anderson is doing the same old thing, this feels to me like a step forward, since this time it's not as easy to sense how close the characters were to their father. Obviously, they're upset from losing him; who he was to them in life, though, is of little importance.

The adjustment to living without a father has crippled each son in a different way. Jack (Jason Schwartzman) left the country and has been wandering all over Europe, living for months at a time in various hotel rooms. Peter (Adrien Brody) has held on to as many of his father's close possessions as he can: car keys, razor, sunglasses. All these items obviously defined for Peter who his father was (this is also evident late in the movie during a flashback sequence). Francis (Owen Wilson) doesn't seem to have found any real way to handle his feelings, so he attempted suicide. Due to his survival, Francis took it as a sign to contact his brothers and see if could re-connect with them, emotionally and spiritually.

The three reunite on a train in India for a journey that Francis hopes will bring them to peace with one another, and with their father's death. From their first moment together, there's no question that these brothers are not, and have never been, close. They don't share any common interests, so the trip just exists to give them each something to do and somewhere to go. The only thing these three guys share, aside from their last name, is their father's matching luggage (each piece is numbered, has his initials, and is covered with animal drawings).

The luggage turns into the movie's biggest metaphor. The picture opens with two men running for a train, one of them held back by the luggage they're carrying. In the end, to catch a different train, the three brothers will have to make a decision as to whether they should keep their luggage or finally let go of it. All of the metaphors in The Darjeeling Limited are easy to spot, but it's not a weakness. Since this is supposed to be a journey of a spiritual and "healing" nature, the brothers will almost certainly look at most anything as a "sign," whether it be their luggage or the train taking the wrong path.

The movie's dialogue is quick and to the point. The brothers only say what they have to, with the result often being sarcastic or rude. Why attempt to have an in depth conversation with someone you didn't want to see in the first place? Like Anderson's previous efforts, the dialogue isn't especially complex, but it's cleverly constructed and delivered by characters desperate to feel anything that might resemble happiness. Anderson's writing partner on his first three projects was Owen Wilson, who was next replaced by Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale), and is joined this time by Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman. Despite the changes, the style of writing doesn't feel a lot different, although The Darjeeling Limited feels like the first Anderson movie that hasn't depended on its comedic elements all the way through. About halfway in, it becomes more concerned with the spiritual yearning of the three main characters.

As expected, pop songs play a key role in certain scenes. However, while Anderson's previous movies have featured a full collection of catchy tunes, The Darjeeling Limited keeps it light, instead focusing on music by Indian artist Satyajit Ray. It's a smart move tonally, and the few British rocks songs he does use -- two by The Kinks and a Rolling Stones cut (which is becoming an Anderson signature) -- are used at crucial turning points. This keeps them from feeling like a gimmick, an accusation thrown at Anderson's use of songs in the past.

Of all Anderson's projects, The Darjeeling Limited was the most difficult for me to connect with, even after my first two viewings. It's as if, like the characters, Anderson wanted to put us in a place we don't understand and will have a hard time figuring out. It's a picture about loneliness above all, beautifully set up by the short film that proceeds it, Hotel Chevalier. All of his movies have been about loneliness in some way or another, but the difference is that before, there was a recognizable sign of hope. Being together again may be a temporary cure for the internal loneliness each brother is suffering from, but it cannot make it completely go away.

God is what the characters ultimately seek to make them feel whole, and from the way it's handled, we can tell Anderson has been in the shoes of Francis, Peter, and Jack at some point in his life. What resonates the most about the movie is that he doesn't claim to have the answer for them or for us. Inner demons are not something someone else can easily make go away; it takes more than visiting every temple in India or sitting face to face with your long lost mother. In The Darjeeling Limited, the answers lie in a place that can only be visited by the one experiencing the pain. Anderson's movies have all had overwhelming moments of truth. But while before he's always shown us what's in his heart, this is the first time I've felt he really reached deep within himself and given us a glimpse of his soul.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Film as the Art of Expression: U23D and Be Kind Rewind

Movies and music have always been personal art forms to me, mainly because they're so easy to take and make your own. I'm not saying you can't do that with a painting or a sculpture; you can take plenty of time analyzing either one and form an idea about what the artist was trying to convey. Movies and music, though, go a lot deeper, since the artist is giving you so many levels to read their work on. It's not always about what's on the surface or what you can see; you often have to go somewhere in the mind you're not used to visiting.

The great thing about any type of art is that you can interpret it any way you want. True, the artist may have had a particular "meaning" behind what they wanted to project, but you could still see, hear, or feel something completely different, and that difference is where the real beauty comes into play. Conversations are sparked, perspectives are shared, debates arise, and everyone walks away with a point of view they might not have considered before. What truly makes this whole experience worthwhile is the fact that by discussing the art, and by embracing the art, you've taken it and made it your own. That's the essence of art. Once the artist puts it out there, it becomes as much the spectator's (or listener's) as it is the artist's.

Musicians and filmmakers express themselves with different mediums, but that does not mean they don't share the same passions. Look first at U23D, which combines music and film in order to give us the artist's message on multiple levels. The concert movie is, unfortunately, almost obsolete, and I've had a hard time understanding why. Film opens so many doors for live concerts, since filmmakers can give the audience angles and movements they would never be subjected to sitting in a stadium. Plus, cinematography can play a crucial role when putting a concert on film. The director is able to achieve a look that can take the way we see the show to a whole new dimension.

The best concert movies teach us something about the musical artist. In Stop Making Sense, for instance, we learn how the Talking Heads' stage presence is defined by their energy and David Byrne's ability to continually surprise his audience. In Heart of Gold, the venue, the stage setup, and the songs take us into the heart and soul of Neil Young. We gain a clearer understanding of who he is and why music is such an important part of his life. I guess these elements aren't enough to convince the average viewer to make a trip to theater, which is probably why directors Catherine Owens and Mark Pellington decided to format U2's concert movie in 3D.

I thought 3D was a thing of the past. I must admit that I was never very thrilled by it as a child, and thanks (or no thanks) to Robert Rodriguez, who began an attempt to resurrect it in recent years, I was hoping it would disappear again. But digital technology has taken 3D to a new level, because now it looks more real than ever. With the right amount of time and effort, movies can literally appear to be happening right in front of our eyes instead of on a screen. That, precisely, is the effect created by U23D. As the picture opens, we could almost swear we are in the actual audience.

The 3D also allows us to feel like we're part of the band. A good chunk of the picture places us right on stage, underneath guitarist The Edge, or straight in front of singer Bono. It makes U23D the first personal concert movie, since it hardly seems like there's any space between us and them. Whether or not you enjoy U2's music may play a big part in how much you enjoy the picture, but it may not. Like so many others, I grew up on their songs, particularly every track on The Joshua Tree. However, I do think it's possible to get a lot out of U23D even if you don't care a lick about any of the songs. Just step back for a moment and view the picture without even thinking about the music.

I know that may sound crazy, because after all, the music is what defines them. I can say I loved Heart of Gold even though I am not in the least a Neil Young fan. It all goes back to how the picture is shot and how the band portrays themselves. U23D is given a very comfortable atmosphere, with lots of soft colors and the occasional fog. Their stage set up is vast, but Owens and Pellington don't use that as an opportunity to trap us in the frame. Instead, they give the free space a sense of character, not simply by having it awkwardly displayed, but by filling it with visual invention. Sometimes, it might be overlapping images, such as a transparency of a band member who is not onscreen, while other times, it may be what's displayed behind the stage. This is used most effectively during the band's performance of "The Fly."

If you have no desire to pay attention to the music, just watch Bono's body language and the way he sings. So many musical artists sing about things happening in the world, but there are few I can think of who do it with as much conviction as Bono. He is one of the rarities who practices what he preaches, that really believes that he can make a difference if he reaches enough people with his words and ideas (and in the case of U23D, images). Because of this, I have a really hard time when other critics say all you are getting here is a U2 concert. In a sense, yes, but what does that mean? Is it only about the music to you? What does it say as a movie?

U23D was a necessary project for Bono, I think, for thanks to the format, it literally looks as if he is trying to embrace the audience. I have seen the band live once, and I felt more a part of the collective experience this time. I have few doubts and high hopes that U23D (and the recent success of the Hannah Montana 3D concert movie) will revive the dying big screen concert. When you're sitting in the nosebleed section, it's a lot harder to connect with the artist as they deliver their message. It's one thing to hear them, but it's another to see them so you can soak in the full extent of who they are and what the music means to them.

So, if U23D is about taking an artist's music and making it your own (which is what you do every time you sing a song to feel what the artist feels -- just look at the audience in the movie), Be Kind Rewind does it for movies. This marks yet another effort from writer/director Michel Gondry that deals with memories and their importance to us (see also Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Dave Chappelle's Bock Party). The story is simple and all too familiar: Mr. Fletcher (Danny Glover) owns a video store in an old New Jersey neighborhood that is being threatened by evil land developers, but since he only rents VHS tapes at a dollar a pop, he doesn't make enough money to save his property from demolition. Enter his employee Mike (Mos Def) and Mike's kooky best friend Jerry (Jack Black, in usual kooky mode), two dimwits who get into hot water when Jerry accidentally erases all the tapes due to a magnetized brain.

The movie lovingly presents Jerry's process of being magnetized like cheesy '80s science fiction, immediately letting us know Be Kind Rewind wants to exist, as most of Gondry's pictures have, in a world that resides in the mind. Mike and Jerry are desperate, since they actually have customers demanding titles. Mike's idea: reshoot the movies and maybe the viewer will not know the difference if they haven't seen the movie before. The concept is ripe and nostalgic. My parents bought a video camera when I was in my early teens, and I took it as an opportunity to do my own versions of movies I loved using whatever I had around (sometimes it was stuffed animals, other times it was action figures), although a good bit of the time, I had to play all the roles myself.

Just as I did, Mike and Jerry begin remaking the movies in the store based solely on what they remember from watching them some time ago. The results, naturally, are very short films, consisting of what would be considered the crucial moments. As they continue to shoot each movie, it's always the same: action scenes, special effects scenes, death scenes. Gondry seems to be telling us those are the moments that stick with the us the most, and those are the moments we believe others will want to see (what does it say about our culture that we remember a shootout or chase scene over a well written monologue?). Sure enough, the remakes are a hit, Mike and Jerry are celebrities, and eventually, they're reshooting every title in the store.

Be Kind Rewind understands what movies mean to those who love them. The title alone already suggests a personal attachment to movies and why we can't wait to share them with others. The idea of remaking something important might sound cheap when first mentioned, but when we analyze what it really means, it becomes something profound. Movies are special to each person for their own reasons, and a remake is a way for an individual to show why the picture touched them in the first place. If someone was able to reach an audience making a movie, there's no reason why someone else shouldn't be able to do the same thing with the same material in their own way.

There's nothing smug or cruel in the way Mike and Jerry make their movies. If anything, it gives them a chance to break out of their normal, boring lives and be creative and alive and let people know they have a voice and it deserves to be heard. To their surprise, the new movies begin to bring their dying community together -- while many of the people might have only seen the video store as a historical landmark, now it has become a place of significance. This comes into greater play once Mike and Jerry begin to include the whole neighborhood in the movies. People are taking key parts in their favorite movies and turning them into something at once personal, but even more so, special. It also makes movie going an event they can share on multiple levels.

Be Kind Rewind shows us that movies are what we want them to be. It started that way for the filmmaker, so there's no reason why it shouldn't also be that way for us, the viewer. This goes into greatest effect during the picture's final third when the neighborhood realizes they don't need anyone's permission to make a movie from their own point of view. It all reminds me of why I love to get as many people together as I can when I go to see a movie, particularly one I hold dear to my heart and want them to embrace as much as I do. The message of Be Kind Rewind may not be a particularly deep one, but it is an important one. I have a feeling this picture is only going to resonate with those who share movies as an art form worth obsessing about. It's deceptively simple on the surface, but underneath it all is a big heart that beats with an overwhelming amount of artistic integrity.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

In the Mood for Lust

For the past 15 years, Ang Lee has proven to be one of the most diverse and ambitious filmmakers of modern cinema. While each of his movies take on different genres, there's always an overwhelming sense of humanity to his characters. A fear builds inside of me that his material is going to suddenly spill into the melodramatic, but it very rarely does. Somehow, his characters (mainly due to the actors playing them) and atmosphere manage to keep things where they should be. This is not to say Lee's pictures don't ever lose their way; they do, however, always get the viewer from beginning to end with little or no regrets.

My first exposure to Lee's work was Eat Drink Man Woman (1994), a movie I would best describe as charming. The characters and storytelling were both appealing, which showed me above all that Lee was a natural with slice-of-life narratives. Imagine my surprise the next year when he helmed an adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. I could tell Lee was emerging as an artist; I just couldn't make a guess yet as to where he was going. Then The Ice Storm (1997) hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a picture that effortlessly combined the gorgeous with the melancholy, leaving the viewer in a somber daze that was impossible to shake.

I thought it took great courage for Lee to tackle Hulk. Most comic book movies lack the sadness needed to accurately display the hero's inner demons, and despite the fact Lee bit off a little more than he could chew, the pain of the characters is what shined through more than anything else. I find Hulk to be a terribly underrated movie. The root of its failure, I think, is due to the expectations of general filmgoing audiences. The special effects are its biggest weakness. Lee was trying so hard to please the masses and himself that the two halves ended up clashing. Strip away the CGI and I can see, and appreciate, what he wanted to say.

His Academy Award recognition finally came with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) and then (the completely different) Brokeback Mountain (2005). With the former, Lee was able to marry his human relationships with graceful martial arts, and it felt like an appropriate match. What he did with the latter was even trickier. Brokeback took a romance not often explored in mainstream movies and gave it more sympathy and realism than 90% of the dramas about "straight couples." At this point, there was no doubt Lee was becoming a master at creating movies about realistic human emotions.

And yet, as much as I admire Ang Lee, I still feel The Ice Storm is the only great movie he's made. If there's a recurring problem I have with his pictures, it's that he goes too grand too often. I think he's still building up to it, no question, but he needs to stop trying so hard to get there. The same setback hangs over his first movie since accepting his golden statue, Lust, Caution. It is, like his other movies, a work of endless visual beauty, rich and authentic performances, and moments of staggering pain. But Lee wants so badly to show us how sweeping and grand his movie is, he takes some missteps during the journey.

The movie is set in 1940s Shanghai during the Japanese invasion, a time when patriotism was something shown behind closed doors. College freshman Wong Chia Chi (Wei Tang) is invited to join a theater troupe planning a production that will show their support for their country. She agrees, earns the lead role, and the rest of the cast is so impressed they invite her to take part in a bigger, more dangerous affair: to seduce Japanese agent Mr. Yee (Tony Leung Chiu Wai) so they can get close enough to take him down when he least expects it.

As expected, Wong disappears into her role as the wife of a wealthy businessman, and is quick to catch Mr. Yee's eye. Lee plays their early scenes together with uncomfortable silences and limited lighting. There's an immediate physical attraction that builds so slowly we can almost hear their endorphins preparing to explode. The first sex scene between them is shocking in its brutality. Mr. Yee, a man of power, likes to exert it over anyone he can, especially when it's a woman. As the sexual encounters multiply, the experience for both of them turns into something experimental and even joyful.

Lust, Caution earned an NC-17 rating for its sex, and while I can appreciate the fact Lee kept the rating to maintain his vision, the sheer nastiness of it all wears thin relatively fast. By the third scene of Mr. Yee and Wong practicing every position under the sun, their budding passion for one another was becoming my headache. It almost feels like Lee, who obviously faced a lot restrictions with Brokeback Mountain, was thrilled to finally break free and do whatever he wanted. But as the saying goes, sometimes less is more.

The story unfolds without much surprise as Wong continues to trick Mr. Yee while her friends anxiously wait to hear his daily habits. The moments of Lust, Caution that stand out are Wong's meetings with her compatriots, as she forces herself to tell them about the grip Mr. Yee has on her. Even though Wong is excited by her sexual awakening, she's scared shitless of it too. Mr. Yee has become someone, despite all the atrocities he has committed, she cannot easily walk away from. This proves true during the movie's climax when she discovers why Mr. Yee sent her on an errand for him.

Lee, working with cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto and production designer Lai Pan, has created a movie of constant visual radiance. Every scene is soaked in a barrage of ordinary colors that are well matched to the despair and fear in the character's hearts. Sadly, Lee locates these dark feelings in the movie's look more convincingly than he does in the actual characters. We never truly understand why Wong is so willing to subject herself to playing Mr. Yee's sex slave, so it makes it hard to sympathize with a lot of her actions, particularly as the movie nears its end.

Any weaknesses on the screenplay level are modestly cloaked by the performances. Tony Leung Chiu Wai, who is the centerpiece of Kar Wai Wong's movies, brings his signature silence and constant smoking to the table and turns it into something sinister and creepy. As Wong, Wei Tang gives a breakthrough performance of delicate confusion and internal yearning. Even if we're not sure why Wong is putting herself through hell, Tang makes us believe it's the only choice she had. It's as if there was nothing else to live for. How her big screen debut got ignored by Academy voters is a mystery.

Lust, Caution is a minor movie that could have been a great one, brought to life by a director who has his heart in the right place, but does not trust the audience enough to let us have some control. It's frustrating, since there are pieces of it that hit me like a hammer, particularly the ending. The final shot is legendary, a poetic moment that has burrowed its way into my brain and refuses to leave. It's proof that Ang Lee is the real deal, but even more so, it's hope that one day he'll make another movie worthy of his talents, for I know in my heart that The Ice Storm wasn't just a stroke of good luck.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

The Power of Scheider

Upon reading about Roy Scheider's death, I had not realized he was 42 when Jaws was released. I guess it was because I felt, no matter how much time passed and how many movies he made, Scheider never really looked to me like he was aging. It was if he had been born that way. He was one hell of an intense actor, and it didn't have everything to do with his chiseled features and wicked stare. Pick most any scene from The French Connection, Jaws, or his delightfully nutty performance in Jaws 2 and you witness an actor who had a craft all his own. Even when he was being calm, there was always a sense the storm was right around the corner.

Looking back over his filmography the other day, I was surprised by how many movies I had forgotten he was in, but was even more amazed by how many of them I had not seen. Being the fan I am of the late John Frankenheimer, I'm not sure how I let 52 Pick-Up slip through the cracks. The picture was not well received during its 1986 release, and it's easy to see why. Like a lot of the action thrillers made during the latter half of the decade, the violence is raw and unapologetic and the villains are sleazy. After leaving the theater, I'm sure film critics Jeffrey Lyons and Michael Medved couldn't wait to go home and take a cold shower.

The basic plot of 52 Pick-Up is nothing to write home about, even it was adapted from (and by) Elmore Leonard. A wealthy businessman named Harry Mitchell (Scheider) is cheating on his wife of 23 years, Barbara (a horrifying Ann-Margaret) with a 22-year-old stripper (a smoking hot Kelly Preston). Three masked men kidnap him at the girl's apartment and threaten to blackmail him with the affair unless he pays them $105,000. Harry refuses, causing things to spiral out of control.

I must say that the set up was boring to me, even stupid, but to write the movie off based on how it starts would be a mistake given how the whole thing is played. Leonard's characters aren't your typical bargain basement movie clowns. They're real people with real problems, and they're desperate enough to make mistakes they might not normally make. And the cast, aside from the inexplicable Ann-Margaret, look and feel right at home in their roles. For instance, you can't have an everyman playing Harry, since we have to believe this guy can possibly screw up the blackmailers' plans. From the moment Scheider appears on screen, we are aware of what he's capable.

Harry is a classic Reagan era movie character. He owns his own business, has a fancy Los Angeles home (complete with a pool that overlooks the city), drives a Jaguar convertible, has a year round tan, and could sleep with any woman he wants. Scheider was unquestionably the right match for the role; he's not a classic looking guy, but someone we could believe has worked his ass off to get to where he is at this point. There's definitely some dirt under his nails. And while he is the kind of guy who would buy a gun just to have it around, he's not afraid to use it to protect what he's earned. Most importantly, Scheider makes Harry into someone with a real history. It never feels like his life started when the movie did.

Most of the characters are played with that type of feel, not more so than the baddies. What impressed me the most about them was the fact they're more confident on the outside than on the inside. It's one thing to plan a blackmail and set it into motion -- it's another to have to take certain measurements when the entire endeavor turns against you. The villainous trio is led by the terrificly named Alan Raimy (John Glover), a porn theater owner and amateur filmmaker. His entrance is superb since we don't even see his face until the end of the scene; one eye is behind a video camera and the other is covered by a patch.

Raimy's partners are Leo (Robert Trebor), who is constantly nervous and talks too much as a result, and Bobby Shy (a mega creepy Clarence Williams III), the only one in the bunch who has no hesitations about pulling the trigger. It's a given almost that these guys don't think in the beginning that anything will go wrong. They show Harry evidence of his affair that they are sure will make him pay; when he doesn't, acts of sloppy hastiness begin to make everything fall apart. What ultimately keeps 52 Pick-Up watchable, aside from its performances, are the ways in which Harry and the villains try to keep control of each other.

As expected, the violence in the movie packs a punch. Some of it is easy to predict, while other moments come out of nowhere. The best '80s actioners were not afraid to kill off characters, and it's a welcome addition here. Frankenheimer creates suspense in unexpected ways throughout and to his credit, he's not afraid to let the characters talk. Action movies these days are only about how many people can get shot; in other words, shoot first and ask questions later. 52 Pick-Up is one of those rare movies where sometimes there is a logical explanation to be given, and the other person is actually willing to listen.

Thanks to Scheider, I often found myself distracted while watching the picture. It would have been so easy to play the role of Harry with lots of shouting and gritted teeth. Instead, Scheider took the time to show the audience that this is a flawed person, he knows it, but that doesn't mean he's going to be exploited for it, even if he does make lots of mistakes along the way. There are numerous moments where his face does all the talking, the best example being right before he confesses his unfaithfulness to Barbara. Quiet moments were his greatest strength. Watch Jaws again and you'll understand what I'm talking about from the get go.

52 Pick-Up may not be up to the caliber of Jaws or The French Connection, as there are lots of elements that feel dated (the score, in particular) and Ann-Margaret creates a character who deserves zero sympathy. It is, however, a welcome contribution to an interesting and diverse career by an actor who put every part of himself into the people he portrayed. Like Chief Brody, Det. Buddy Russo, Joe Gideon, Dr. Heywood Floyd, hell, most all of Scheider's characters, Harry Mitchell is immediately human, and it's all because of how he was played. Put someone else in the role and you wouldn't only have a different movie, but most likely a lesser one.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

New Indiana Jones Trailer Online!

I know I'm a few days late on this, but I had to post it anyway. Watching the trailer for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull made my excited 8-year-old heart jump out of my chest! Get ready for action!




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Proof They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To....

It's hard for me to imagine Katherine Hepburn ever being described as "box office poison," but indeed she was. Before making The Philadelphia Story, Hepburn starred in three back to back flops, and it was enough for her to rethink where her career was going. She first played the role of Tracy Lord on the stage, which must have been flattering considering the author, Philip Barry, wrote the role specifically for her. Hepburn owned the movie rights, and thanks to the help of Howard Hughes, the project found its way to the big screen.

Donald Ogden Stewart, the writer who adapted The Philadelphia Story for the screen, said it was the easiest gig he ever had. Given how beautifully the dialogue flows I don't see how anyone could argue with him. It's a quintessential movie experience, if only for the inspired casting. It's said that Hepburn originally chose Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy in the lead roles. After seeing Cary Grant and James Stewart, it's impossible to imagine what it would have been like otherwise. It's the first picture I can remember where Stewart got to show a sarcastic side; I was used to seeing him as the straight man.

The chemistry Grant and Stewart display onscreen is for the books. My first thought might be that one may try to hog the screen over the other, but it turns out to be the opposite. Both actors get equal opportunities to shine, whether it's playing off each other or individually with Hepburn. One of the joys of the picture is the fact that I'd be happy seeing her end up with either of them. At first glance, we might expect Hepburn's Tracy Lord to be a snotty queen bitch; that is, until she shows an interest in Stewart's Macaulay Connor, a journalist for Spy Magazine who lacks the financial status of her other suitors.

The Philadelphia Story was released during a golden age for cinema, since there were no quick cuts, jerky cameras, or CGI. The screenplay and the dialogue were what moved things forward, and the movie's visual style could not cover up for a lack of star appeal. The dialogue here is as good as can be found, and thankfully, there's a lot of it. Characters are constantly expressing themselves, but it never feels rushed, as if the listener is eagerly waiting just so they can have their turn to talk. These people pay attention to what is being said to them, so the conversations are able to build instead of just meandering.

The set up is just enough to get the characters up and running. Tracy was married to C.K. Dexter Haven (Grant), and left him behind due to a drinking problem. Now, she's about marry the boring George Kittredge (John Howard) at her wealthy parent's estate. He is, without question, her complete opposite, but after Dexter, it's a pleasant change. Dexter gets word of the wedding and hires Spy Magazine to cover the story. This is where reporter Macaulay Connor comes in. From the moment he meets Tracy, Macaulay is mesmerized by her quick wit and beauty.

Naturally, Dexter shows up, and while at first we wonder if he'll be angry about Macaulay's interest in Tracy, it turns out to be quite different. The movie is almost farcical in the way the three leads interact, with Tracy bouncing back and forth between being smitten with the flattering Macaulay and disgusted (supposedly) with the critical Dexter. Hepburn and Grant really go all out in their scenes, particularly their first verbal fight at the pool house. Between that and the movie's opening scene, Dexter clearly looks like the lesser of the two men. Part of the brilliance of Grant's performance is that we never can tell if he's really that cruel or if it's just for show.

It's impossible for me to decide who's better in the movie, Stewart or Grant. When I try to think of them individually, I am always taken back to one of the movie's funniest scenes, where a drunk Macaulay shows up at Dexter's door to get help writing a letter to his editor. Their word play combined with Stewart's body language is nothing short of hilarious (believe it or not, Stewart's hiccups were not scripted). If the movie has any suspense, it's in wondering which one of them Tracy will choose in the end.

Anyone who claimed Hepburn was "box office poison" hopefully changed their mind after seeing The Philadelphia Story. Her performance is both sexy and fiery; you can tell she's having a blast giving the audience a taste of who she was in life. Tracy is the kind of woman who loves the world she was born into, and seems to have everything figured out (except when it comes to romance). If the role were taken on these days, the actress would be dressed provocatively; Hepburn, on the other hand, is classy without using her figure.

A movie based on dialogue alone is hard to pull off, especially when there's only one real setting. It's hard to even notice though, due to the picture's rapid pacing. Every scene is presented with enough human interest that it doesn't really matter where it's happening. It's safe to say they don't make comedies like The Philadelphia Story anymore. Director George Cukor was well matched with the material; he had already directed a handful of play to screen projects, including a previous collaboration with Philip Barry and Donald Ogden Stewart, Holiday (which also starred Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn). It almost feels like his whole career was leading up to this movie.

I often site The Philadelphia Story as my favorite romantic comedy. There may be others that have more laugh out loud moments, but I can't think of another in the genre that is more genuine and likable on every level. I'm a firm believer that there's no such thing as a flawless movie; how could there be? The Philadelphia Story, for what it sets out to accomplish, comes awfully close. It's a constant reminder of why movies were great in the first place.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Brave? Try Cowardly.

Vigilante movies are becoming a new trend, and when you think about it, the whole thing makes perfect sense. In our post 9/11 world, there's no better way to calm a movie viewer's nerves than to give them two hours of raw, blood soaked justice. When terror strikes and there's no one there to soften the blow, it's the ideal time to take matters into one's own hands. The idea here is to place us in the vigilante's shoes so we can ask ourselves if we would do the same thing. If a loved one was murdered in cold blood for no good reason, would we pick up a gun and start offing every person involved?

The vigilante movies certainly don't make their cause seem very exciting. We almost expect to see a jolt of satisfaction as they off the wrong doers, but more often than not they look exhausted and afraid. The truth of the matter is, that's probably how most of us would feel if faced with the same situation (if we were to do it at all). The interesting thing about these movies is the fact that, on the surface, they're all the same; it isn't until you peel off the top layer that the differences are revealed. The biggest problem that comes to mind is that there have been so many vigilante thrillers as of late that it's hard to take them seriously anymore. They seem to work best now when played as pure exploitation (like James Wan's recent Death Sentence).

Thinking back over the movies in this "genre," the best ones have been exploitation pictures. It almost makes the experience more uncomfortable when we finally realize the whole movie has been an excuse for cheap thrills. Not that I'm saying Death Wish was not effective for what it was -- when you look at all four (!) of the sequels though, it's easy to see that the studio knew what the audience was really showing up for. With this in mind, is there any way to watch a vigilante movie anymore and actually care about what is going on? Will our culture, given its current fascination with violence and Old Testament justice, really want more than a series of killing sprees?

Neil Jordan is the last person I would have expected to try and breathe some new life into the vigilnate movie. While he's no stranger to dealing with characters undergoing psychological trauma, why would he choose this genre? After watching the first five minutes of The Brave One, it occurred to me that anyone could have made it. The opening credits carry with them the scent of a project that exists to score an easy paycheck. I didn't think Jordan was suffering from a lack of work. Despite my skepticism, I pressed on.

The Brave One is summed up accurately by its poster: Jodie Foster holding a gun in front of her crotch, pointing it down (see above). Foster's Erica Bain is on a walk through the park with her fiancee (Naveen Andrews) and dog when they are attacked by three male thugs. After taunting and robbing them, the muggers beat the stew out of Erica and her fiancee (he dies) with a pipe, a.ka. phallic object (plus they steal her dog). After three weeks in a coma, Erica wakes up, sad and angry. As expected, the cops offer to help but she doesn't feel confident about it.

Erica is disoriented being back in the world again. She lives in New York City, where she always felt safe, but now every one around her is a potential attacker. Jordan uses soft focus and diagonal camera angles to give the audience Erica's perspective -- it comes off looking like a cheap attempt at being stylistic more than anything else. The constant fear leads Erica to buy a gun on the streets, and in the blink of an eye, she's fending off New York scum, Ms. 45 style!

Once Erica comes into possession of the gun, she wanders into one threatening situation after another, all involving evil men. You see, now that she's been abused by a phallic object, every man in the city is out to get her. It would have been fascinating had the movie explored that maybe this was all in her head, but I believe that would have required too much effort on the screenplay level. Her first encounter is in a convenience store where Erica sees a man ( filmmaker Larry Fessenden) shoot the woman behind the counter (she won't let him see their kids). The man comes after Erica next, so she blows him away.

Why didn't she just threaten him with the gun? Because she had to prove to him that her penis was bigger! This comes in to play to a more obvious extent during Erica's second kill on the subway. She's threatened by a bully who pulls a little curved knife on her. The whole sequence plays like a you show me yours, I'll show you mine scenario. Each confrontation acts as a slow build for Erica to reveal her penis envy, no more so than when she saves a drugged girl from her pimp.

All this would be easier to stomach if The Brave One didn't take itself so seriously. Foster's performance is so solemn (one characters describes her as being in "lockdown" mode) I kept waiting for her to suddenly break into a song and dance routine to lighten the mood. This onscreen persona is becoming Foster's specialty -- it's as if she can't make a movie anymore unless she ends up in some kind of crisis situation. If we are expected to take Erica at face value, maybe they should have had her visit a shrink or a focus group. I never for a moment felt like her damage was that deep.

Detective Mercer (Terrence Howard) is the cop who knows Erica is guilty, even if he can't prove it right away. At first, it looks like the character might come with too much baggage; there's a scene with his ex-wife that I was afraid might turn into a subplot, but it doesn't. Mercer, thanks to Howard's thoughtful performance, turns out to be the most appealling character in the picture. The moments where he and his partner (Nicky Katt, funny but under used) investigate the crime scenes are a welcome distraction from the heavy handed melodrama with Erica.

The picture's conclusion will be familiar to anyone who's seen a vigilante movie before. However, unlike the chilling final sequence to Ms. 45, this movie's climax is not earned and feels like a last minute re-write. Had the movie been void of any rules, I might have been open to accept anything. But since it asked me care about Erica, I couldn't buy it. The ending helps clarify that The Brave One isn't a very brave movie at all; to be brave it would have taken some chances and slapped us in the face with its violence. The fact that it does neither makes it nothing less than cowardly.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Amateurs....Ain't That the Truth!

It's generally a bad sign when a movie sits on the shelf for a while before getting released. Most of the time, it's because the studio knows the product really does suck, while other times, it's just a case of not having any idea how to market the thing (just look at The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford). There's no question for me that Michael Traeger's The Amateurs was delayed for both reasons. True, the studio could market the movie based on the stellar cast alone, but what would they show on the trailer? Would they try to sell it as a raunchy comedy or a heartwarming comedy? Do they really think there's a large audience hoping to see Jeff Bridges in a movie about making a porno?

Whether it be about making a porno or a snuff film, I'll watch anything Jeff Bridges takes a role in. Like Kurt Russell, Bridges is a hardworking actor who generally does not get enough credit for the charisma and intensity he brings to his characters. He's been in his fair share of shit, but more often than not he comes out unscathed (exception: the remake of The Vanishing. What was he thinking?). I can't say I've ever seen Bridges looking as confused and out of place as he does in The Amateurs. On the movie's commentary track, Bridges says he turned down the role twice, but his agent kept staying on him about it. It took a read through to convince him to go forth. I have a hard time believing that changed his mind, because whether you read it silently or out loud, crappy dialogue is crappy dialogue.

After the first fifteen minutes of the picture, I was appalled to see Bridges in it. As more familiar faces popped up, the look of horror on my face grew. Tim Blake Nelson? Joe Pantoliano? William Fichtner? Ted Danson? Patrick Fugit? Lauren Graham? Jeanne Tripplehorn? I'm not saying each of these actors aren't capabale of making, and haven't been in, a bad movie. I was just surprised to see them all in the same bad movie. Either Michael Traeger is a real sweet talker, or the budget for this movie is bigger than it looks.

The Amateurs reminds me of the screenplay I tried to write when I was eighteen years old. I cashed in on every raunchy and juvenile joke my mind could produce, and about twenty pages in, I decided that my characters were not likable enough. Traeger seemed to have the same idea here; on the commentary, he says he wanted to make a movie about nice and thoughtful people, but he was afraid no one would want to make it. That's where the porno angle came in, because after all, who doesn't want to see a movie about people making porn?

Somewhere in the process of trying to combine the sentimental elements with the porn elements, Traeger lost his way. It is possible to have raunch and heart; just look at the early works from the Farrelly Brothers. But in order for them to come together, the characters have to be not only believable, but also appealing and pathetic at the same time. The Amateurs focuses too much on making them likable and not enough on making them pathetic. I'm not saying they're not pathetic; they either have shitty jobs or no job at all, and none of them are lucky in love. But each character (and the actor who plays them) wants to be liked so badly it's like they forgot to be a loser, too.

The movie takes place in the town of Butterfield, which apparently has a population just over 3,000, even thought we only really see the main characters. Andy Sargentee (Bridges) has just lost his job and his wife, so he spends his days in the one local bar trying to figure out how to score a quick buck. Flipping through the newspaper, he runs across countless pictures of women in lingerine and strip club ads, at which point the idea comes to him: make a porno! He gathers together everyone in the bar and spreads his idea, and they are all happy to take part....even the old ladies.

My first big problem with the picture is the fact that everyone comes on board so easily. No one has any reservations. Even when Andy and his cohorts start approaching the local young ladies to ask them to do a lesbian or anal scene, none of them object. I understand this is a small town where nothing really ever happens, but unless this movie is supposed to be taken as a pure fantasy, I don't buy it. It becomes apparent from the beginning that Traeger is afraid of bringing in too many conflicts. The few that are introduced are not genuine character struggles, but predictable devices to push the plot forward.

The movie is narrated by Andy using voice overs, making me wonder if Traeger ever saw Adaptation. Voice overs very rarely work in comedies, as they feel like a cheap way to hold the audience's hand and walk them through the movie. Andy is with us every step of the way here; I kept hoping the moment would come when he would give us a shove and let us take over, but he never did. Instead, he continued to let us know how self aware this movie is of its own existence.

For a comedy about making a porno, The Amateurs is awfully tame. Sure, it talks the talk by describing types of scenes and throwing out terms like "carpet muncher," but every time someone uses a dirty word they come across like an eight year old giggling because of what they just said. Traeger needs to understand that it's not simply about using the words; it's how you use them. Sex can be funny in the movies, too, so it's sad how missed of an opportunity it is here. You'd think small town folks who have never made a porno before would feel nervous or awkward about having sex on camera. Aside from the Ted Danson character, who has trouble for reasons I will not explain, everyone in this movie is a sexual dynamo and resorts to destroying furniture.

I was also surprised by the lack of nudity in the picture. The reason for it is justified at the end, but still. If you're really that excited about being in a porno, wouldn't you rip your clothes off and jump into action? The Amateurs has it backwards. I could see some clothes staying on if the participants were nervous, which is why I was shocked when the townspeople finally watch the finished product and the two ladies are still in their bra and panties during the lesbian scene.

Everything I have said so far should lead to an inevitable conclusion: this movie is not funny. It's pretty sad too, because the cast gives it their all and then some. Traeger must be an excellent motivator, since there's hardly a minute that lacks enthusiasm. In the grand scheme though, that's just not enough. I mentioned the movie's sentimentality earlier. The picture's climax features a screening of the finished porno, complete with a predictable twist and then about fifteen more minutes of screentime devoted to providing a heartwarming exit for each character. If the first two thirds haven't been shameless enough, the ending puts the icing on the cake.

Everyone involved here should be embarrassed, most of all Bridges, whose performance is not funny or tender in any way. If anything, I found him to be kind of creepy in his actions while trying to get the movie off the ground. Instead of a loving father, he comes off like a child molester (and looks like one too). Most of his scenes are overacted, the worst and most offensive one involving an African American man (Isiah Washington) who was supposed to be in the "big black dudes with little white girl" scene. It turns out Andy fired him and his friends for not being well equipped. The scene is as painful to watch as anything I have ever seen.

The Amateurs is probably one of the worst movies I have seen. It even lacks the necessary qualities to be a mediocre movie, and in this era of cinema that is saying a lot. This is a movie that accomplishes nothing because it doesn't really bring anything to the table, new or old. "Amateur" is an appropriate word to have in the title, because that's what the filmmakers are, and if they don't take some writing and directing classes, that's what they'll always be.


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Copyright, Hell and Beyond, 2008

Where to Begin....

So, here I am. Finally. I have been freelancing for eight years, always on other people's sites, and while I've always had it in my head that I needed to do something on my own, I've continued to let it slip. A lot of it is due, I think, to the fact that I am computer illiterate when it comes to the technical, so I knew it would take me ages to try and build my own site. This was the next best thing.

I love movies. I love writing about movies. However, I am not going to spend all of my time posting reviews and articles from the past; this blog will serve as a ground for new material only. Thanks (or no thanks) to a 9-5 job, I may not post as often as I'd like, but my goal is to get something up daily.

So welcome to my new world. Come by anytime, read, think, ponder and comment.

Thank you for visiting Hell and Beyond!