| by Justin Thomas |
An idea. To punish Michael Bay for his seizure-inducing edits he should be made to watch repeatedly the opening shot from The Conversation. This punishment would be a great deal of fun to watch because he’d turn into a hyperactive five-year-old, antsy, unable to sit still, jonesing to get up and do something, anything, and it’d eventually drive him so nuts he’d get up from the couch, race to the window and jump through it. There’s no way he’d be able to sit through the zoom, to understand drama doesn’t need a camera on a bungee cord or lightning-fast cuts to occur, to see how the very length of the zoom helps establish the movie’s tone. Ha, ha, take that, Michael Bay.
Of everything in The Conversation my inability to take my eyes off it surprised me the most. Behind Enemy Lines was a poor choice, and there are many poor choices in his filmography, but Gene Hackman has a screen presence among the best I’ve seen, and he carries well Francis Ford Coppola’s insistence on patience in unfolding the story. He understands the need to just be there and not necessarily do anything to be Harry Caul, which is at the opposite end of the spectrum of the archetypal paranoid movie character. Hackman was the right performer to pull off Coppola’s design for how to tell the story, which even without mind-blowing visuals kept my eyes focused on the screen.
The Sixth Sense has a twist ending; if you paid attention enough you might have caught the clues and figured it out but if you didn’t then the movie pulls the rug from beneath your feet and you have to watch it again to find the clues. The Conversation doesn’t have a twist ending; the ending illustrates the theme and forces the audience to go back and rethink each scene in context, doing the opposite of what led Harry to only one conclusion as to what “he’d kill us if he had the chance” could mean. That line isn’t a clue. The line is about how we perceive what’s being said, when it’s being said and precisely how is it being said, and the fact it can’t really be known. It’s perception versus reality, and after Harry finally meets the Director, The Conversation stops giving definitive mile markers as to when it’s in reality and when it’s not.
My only complaint with The Conversation is not about the movie itself but what I brought into it and what I imagine happened behind the camera. When Harry is on the phone, walks out of frame and continues talking while the camera remains still before finally walking back into frame, in my mind I could hear Coppola providing the direction. Because I’ve watched so many interviews with him I have a Francis Ford Coppola running in my head and I “know” how he’d say it. It’d be very dramatic, very old school, jodhpurs-and-beret wearing director pontificating about how his idea would elicit the key emotional response in the audience and how they’ll love it in Pomona. Coppola’s presence in the movie was distracting but didn’t ruin the experience, and I don’t think his presence is an illustration of the auteur theory. I’m getting to the point to where I might need to stop watching Francis Ford Coppola interviews because I certainly don’t want the Francis Ford Coppola in my head being too loud when I eventually get around to watching Jack.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Life Didn’t Imitate Art: Sullivan’s Travels
| by Justin Thomas |
When Chicago’s Music Box Theatre played a new 70mm print of Lawrence of Arabia I jumped at the chance, took a vacation day, got lost on the way into the city and spent an hour trying to get around, and I kid you not, Lawrence Avenue while fretting about whether I’d reach the theatre on time. Lawrence in 70mm? That’s the Holy Grail and an experience any lover of the cinema must have at least once because Lawrence is too big to fit on even the largest television screen.
A funny thing happened when I finally got to the Music Box. I discovered Lawrence of Arabia is a riot; an honest-to-goodness funny movie with humor I had never, ever picked up on while watching it alone at home. The audience helped me. The audience thought it was funny and it made me pay just a little more attention to some of Lawrence’s responses, and many of them are gold, Jerry, gold. It was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
Sullivan’s Travels doesn’t have the visuals of Lawrence (what movie does?) but I wish I’d seen it in the theater with an audience because it’s a comedy. Comedies from other eras – most notably slapstick – cause me more grief than anything else in movies because what registers as funny to me is so specific and so narrow in scope. What one person finds funny might not be the case for another person, which is why I’d campaign for the position of Pope long before attempting to sit down and write a comedy. No trainwreck is worse than watching a comedy that misses the mark, and the terror of missing the mark will keep me at a safe distance from the attempt.
But why want to see Sullivan’s Travels in a theater? Its humor would register with the audience and it would help serve as a guide for me in much the same way the audience helped with Lawrence. I’d be able to feed off it, get into the moment, be participatory and perhaps “get” Sullivan’s Travels. In the movie, Sullivan finally decides to give up on O Brother, Where Art Thou? while watching a Pluto cartoon, with an audience, where he doesn’t start laughing until the audience gets into it. In that sequence I found myself wishing for precisely what Sullivan was experiencing in the movie, but I wasn’t and it fell flat for me.
Laughter is contagious and, of all the genres, comedy benefits most by being seen in a theater with an audience. Contemporary or classic, it doesn’t matter. Get one or two groups of people really giggling and it’ll spread to another group or two and before long everyone is howling. Regardless of how sophisticated home video technology becomes there is no substitute for watching a comedy with scores of your best friends in the world even if they’re only your best friends for a couple hours.
I’ll give Sullivan’s Travels another chance once I can locate a place where it’s being screened because I know the laughs are there. I just need a little help finding them.
**this post was originally posted on cosmictoaststudios.com**
When Chicago’s Music Box Theatre played a new 70mm print of Lawrence of Arabia I jumped at the chance, took a vacation day, got lost on the way into the city and spent an hour trying to get around, and I kid you not, Lawrence Avenue while fretting about whether I’d reach the theatre on time. Lawrence in 70mm? That’s the Holy Grail and an experience any lover of the cinema must have at least once because Lawrence is too big to fit on even the largest television screen.
A funny thing happened when I finally got to the Music Box. I discovered Lawrence of Arabia is a riot; an honest-to-goodness funny movie with humor I had never, ever picked up on while watching it alone at home. The audience helped me. The audience thought it was funny and it made me pay just a little more attention to some of Lawrence’s responses, and many of them are gold, Jerry, gold. It was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
Sullivan’s Travels doesn’t have the visuals of Lawrence (what movie does?) but I wish I’d seen it in the theater with an audience because it’s a comedy. Comedies from other eras – most notably slapstick – cause me more grief than anything else in movies because what registers as funny to me is so specific and so narrow in scope. What one person finds funny might not be the case for another person, which is why I’d campaign for the position of Pope long before attempting to sit down and write a comedy. No trainwreck is worse than watching a comedy that misses the mark, and the terror of missing the mark will keep me at a safe distance from the attempt.
But why want to see Sullivan’s Travels in a theater? Its humor would register with the audience and it would help serve as a guide for me in much the same way the audience helped with Lawrence. I’d be able to feed off it, get into the moment, be participatory and perhaps “get” Sullivan’s Travels. In the movie, Sullivan finally decides to give up on O Brother, Where Art Thou? while watching a Pluto cartoon, with an audience, where he doesn’t start laughing until the audience gets into it. In that sequence I found myself wishing for precisely what Sullivan was experiencing in the movie, but I wasn’t and it fell flat for me.
Laughter is contagious and, of all the genres, comedy benefits most by being seen in a theater with an audience. Contemporary or classic, it doesn’t matter. Get one or two groups of people really giggling and it’ll spread to another group or two and before long everyone is howling. Regardless of how sophisticated home video technology becomes there is no substitute for watching a comedy with scores of your best friends in the world even if they’re only your best friends for a couple hours.
I’ll give Sullivan’s Travels another chance once I can locate a place where it’s being screened because I know the laughs are there. I just need a little help finding them.
**this post was originally posted on cosmictoaststudios.com**
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Backwards Bond 1: Casino Royale
| by Justin Thomas |
Here are a few easy questions. Do you prefer Coke or Pepsi? I prefer Coke. Which band is better, The Beatles or The Rolling Stones? The Beatles, and it isn’t even a contest. What color of M&Ms lets you take the ball downtown? Green. Of Arthur Fiedler, John Williams and Keith Lockhart, who is your favorite conductor of the Boston Pops? John Williams mostly because he looks like my high school band teacher. Who’s the world’s most-famous clown? Bozo.
Then there’s the one question that, prior to 2006, I could not answer.
Who is your favorite James Bond?
I didn’t have a favorite Bond because until 2006 I’d never seen a James Bond film. Not a single film start to finish, and I’m clueless as to how I made it so many years without seeing one. Maybe I was busy. Today I can answer the question with Daniel Craig but even that is a poor answer because I have nothing to compare him to as Casino Royale remains the only James Bond film I’ve seen. Maybe I was still busy, I don’t know, but it leaves me with two options: either only ever see one James Bond film and call it a day or see them all, so I’m making the decision to write about 22 James Bond films because writing 22 times about Casino Royale seems like a bit of overkill.
Could I go back, start with Dr. No and work my way through all 22 in order? Of course, but that’s how everyone did it. It’d be far more unique to go backwards by Bond, from Craig to Connery, to see what the fuss is about. Will I hate Lazenby without the baggage of Connery, or will the baggage of Moore make me hate Lazenby, and why is it a foregone conclusion I’ll hate Lazenby? Will his wonderful role in Hot Fuzz make me love Dalton as Bond, a luxury he didn’t have at the time he played 007? Is it possible to take issue with a man as charming as Brosnan over anything, or will Craig prove to be too much for him? These are questions I’m dying to have answered and it’s simply a matter of taking the time to watch a bunch of movies to get those answers.
So watch this space as I do the unthinkable, perhaps the unforgiveable, of going backwards through Bond.
***
Writing about Casino Royale 22 times might be overkill, but there is a lot to talk about with it. It features a mystery and skillfully reveals its hand to keep secret the resolution until Bond’s visit to Mr. White. It has a tremendous amount of humor and it starts right away: after Bond’s chase of Mollaka, during which they run, climb, jump and explode all over Madagascar, Bond gently removes the bomb from Mollaka’s backpack. There are references to previous Bond films so ubiquitous even a Bond neophyte gets them: the Aston Martin, shaken or stirred and Miss Stephanie Broadchest.
The most-striking aspect of Casino Royale is how much we learn about this version of Bond in the opening sequences with sparse dialogue from Bond himself. Casino Royale allows the images to present the ideas and trusts in the audience to get them, with or without prior knowledge of James Bond, to get to know him.
Bond is a blunt instrument, shown several times early and later confirmed by M in a line of dialogue. While chasing Mollaka he doesn’t hop on a motorcycle and expertly race through construction workers. No, he hops in a bulldozer and plows through anything and everything in his path. The grace of Mollaka’s escape attempt is countered by Bond running, literally, through a wall. He needn’t be the quickest on the trigger and shoot ten men at the embassy to escape because he can just blow up a propane tank and get away while they’re distracted. These aren’t just cool bits of action sequences; they’re character-defining images all free of dialogue.
Bond won’t be a superhero superspy in Casino Royale because he’ll make mistakes, and it’s shown in the opening sequence and confirmed later in the movie. While he thought his first kill was dead, he wasn’t completely, which was his first mistake. Later he’ll think he’s covertly shadowing Dimitrios, which doesn’t turn out to be so covert. His earpiece is seen by one of Obanno’s goons, which leads to Obanno’s death. These character traits were all established by that opening scene and established without dialogue.
Bond will be resourceful and use everything at his disposal to accomplish his mission relatively free of uber-cool gadgets, which is shown during his brief career as a valet. Rather than take offense at being told to park the Range Rover he takes it and uses it to get security away from its control room. He’ll understand what Ellipsis means and realize he doesn’t need M to step in and help him through the airport. He’ll find a better use for the detonator originally intended to vaporize the plane. He knows to grab phones and use them later. He knows enough to pay attention to what’s around him, and it’s all confirmation of character traits established through action, not dialogue.
Casino Royale has good dialogue, fun dialogue, but rather than talk away the movie Casino Royale uses it wisely. A script polish from talkie writers (Mamet, Tarantino, Smith) could have added really cool lines, maybe, but they’d be unnecessary. It’s rather refreshing to see a movie of this type allow visuals to do so much work because it’s unique and it illustrates a belief in the audience’s intelligence.
**this post was originally posted on cosmictoaststudios.com**
Here are a few easy questions. Do you prefer Coke or Pepsi? I prefer Coke. Which band is better, The Beatles or The Rolling Stones? The Beatles, and it isn’t even a contest. What color of M&Ms lets you take the ball downtown? Green. Of Arthur Fiedler, John Williams and Keith Lockhart, who is your favorite conductor of the Boston Pops? John Williams mostly because he looks like my high school band teacher. Who’s the world’s most-famous clown? Bozo.
Then there’s the one question that, prior to 2006, I could not answer.
Who is your favorite James Bond?
I didn’t have a favorite Bond because until 2006 I’d never seen a James Bond film. Not a single film start to finish, and I’m clueless as to how I made it so many years without seeing one. Maybe I was busy. Today I can answer the question with Daniel Craig but even that is a poor answer because I have nothing to compare him to as Casino Royale remains the only James Bond film I’ve seen. Maybe I was still busy, I don’t know, but it leaves me with two options: either only ever see one James Bond film and call it a day or see them all, so I’m making the decision to write about 22 James Bond films because writing 22 times about Casino Royale seems like a bit of overkill.
Could I go back, start with Dr. No and work my way through all 22 in order? Of course, but that’s how everyone did it. It’d be far more unique to go backwards by Bond, from Craig to Connery, to see what the fuss is about. Will I hate Lazenby without the baggage of Connery, or will the baggage of Moore make me hate Lazenby, and why is it a foregone conclusion I’ll hate Lazenby? Will his wonderful role in Hot Fuzz make me love Dalton as Bond, a luxury he didn’t have at the time he played 007? Is it possible to take issue with a man as charming as Brosnan over anything, or will Craig prove to be too much for him? These are questions I’m dying to have answered and it’s simply a matter of taking the time to watch a bunch of movies to get those answers.
So watch this space as I do the unthinkable, perhaps the unforgiveable, of going backwards through Bond.
***
Writing about Casino Royale 22 times might be overkill, but there is a lot to talk about with it. It features a mystery and skillfully reveals its hand to keep secret the resolution until Bond’s visit to Mr. White. It has a tremendous amount of humor and it starts right away: after Bond’s chase of Mollaka, during which they run, climb, jump and explode all over Madagascar, Bond gently removes the bomb from Mollaka’s backpack. There are references to previous Bond films so ubiquitous even a Bond neophyte gets them: the Aston Martin, shaken or stirred and Miss Stephanie Broadchest.
The most-striking aspect of Casino Royale is how much we learn about this version of Bond in the opening sequences with sparse dialogue from Bond himself. Casino Royale allows the images to present the ideas and trusts in the audience to get them, with or without prior knowledge of James Bond, to get to know him.
Bond is a blunt instrument, shown several times early and later confirmed by M in a line of dialogue. While chasing Mollaka he doesn’t hop on a motorcycle and expertly race through construction workers. No, he hops in a bulldozer and plows through anything and everything in his path. The grace of Mollaka’s escape attempt is countered by Bond running, literally, through a wall. He needn’t be the quickest on the trigger and shoot ten men at the embassy to escape because he can just blow up a propane tank and get away while they’re distracted. These aren’t just cool bits of action sequences; they’re character-defining images all free of dialogue.
Bond won’t be a superhero superspy in Casino Royale because he’ll make mistakes, and it’s shown in the opening sequence and confirmed later in the movie. While he thought his first kill was dead, he wasn’t completely, which was his first mistake. Later he’ll think he’s covertly shadowing Dimitrios, which doesn’t turn out to be so covert. His earpiece is seen by one of Obanno’s goons, which leads to Obanno’s death. These character traits were all established by that opening scene and established without dialogue.
Bond will be resourceful and use everything at his disposal to accomplish his mission relatively free of uber-cool gadgets, which is shown during his brief career as a valet. Rather than take offense at being told to park the Range Rover he takes it and uses it to get security away from its control room. He’ll understand what Ellipsis means and realize he doesn’t need M to step in and help him through the airport. He’ll find a better use for the detonator originally intended to vaporize the plane. He knows to grab phones and use them later. He knows enough to pay attention to what’s around him, and it’s all confirmation of character traits established through action, not dialogue.
Casino Royale has good dialogue, fun dialogue, but rather than talk away the movie Casino Royale uses it wisely. A script polish from talkie writers (Mamet, Tarantino, Smith) could have added really cool lines, maybe, but they’d be unnecessary. It’s rather refreshing to see a movie of this type allow visuals to do so much work because it’s unique and it illustrates a belief in the audience’s intelligence.
**this post was originally posted on cosmictoaststudios.com**
Monday, June 7, 2010
A Deeper Understanding of the Human Condition as Provided by Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Forget about the invention of the printing press.
The watershed year in history was 2008 as it was the year “we live in a world with four Indiana Jones movies” became reality and everything changed. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull isn’t so much a movie to watch but a movie to experience, and after experiencing it again, I was reminded how much better the world became in 2008 and how much more I know now than I did before Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
I am glad to know what a Steven Spielberg film looks like when he completely phones in the effort.
I am glad to know Harrison Ford can put away the Harrison Ford Acting Finger™ and play Indy as something other than what made him great because what he did with the character before didn’t work. Obviously.
I am glad to know the precise reason why Shia LaBeouf is being forced down my throat as the second coming of James Dean because “I have no idea” is a precise reason.
I am glad to see the destruction and disrespect of Marcus Brody – who in Raiders lamented being too old to go with Indy but in Last Crusade “got lost in his own museum” – was completed by having his head fall off a statue onto the hood of a car as the butt of a joke. If only they’d found a way to work a fart joke into it...
I am glad to know nothing is so ridiculous it can’t be brainstormed, typed in a script, go through storyboarding, get shot, edited, scored and released as a part of a movie including Indiana Jones using a lead-lined fridge to survive a nuclear blast, Mutt Williams showing off his fencing skills standing between two speeding vehicles while getting hit in the groin at every opportunity, and Mutt Williams bonding with a gang of greaser monkeys just before swinging from vine to vine with said gang of greaser monkeys to attack a bunch of Russians.
I am glad to see the forced addition of information to set a movie in the 1950s – the long-winded “you’re a Commie, Indiana Jones” bit after the nuclear blast sequence that was completely dropped for the rest of the movie – doesn’t necessarily help set the movie in the era or help the movie.
I am glad to know the spine-tingling, Pavlovian response to a bad guy screaming “JONES!” has less to do with the quality of the film or bad guy I’m actually watching and more to do with the what I bring into the movie.
I am glad The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles finally received validation in a cinematic Indiana Jones adventure and all the knowledge of world history gained from dutifully watching the The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles served me well when Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull mentioned Indy rode with Pancho Villa.
I am glad the final shot of the final cinematic adventure of Indiana Jones – Indy, Henry, Marcus and Salah riding off into the sunset in Last Crusade – was replaced with the two-hour brilliance of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
I am glad to know, beyond doubt, that the people involved in and responsible for creating or producing such movies as Jaws, E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, Star Wars, Back to the Future, Jurassic Park and The Six Sense among many, many others, are more concerned with obtaining an obscene amount of money than making something that resembles a decent Indiana Jones movie even though their combined worth is more than the GDP of several nations.
I am glad to no longer wonder whether I’ve wasted thousands of hours over thirty years of my life defending George Lucas and his creations in diners, coffee shops and bars across seven states.
I am glad to be able to provide the title of the movie to which I’d attach the phrase “The Worst Spielberg Film Ever.”
The watershed year in history was 2008 as it was the year “we live in a world with four Indiana Jones movies” became reality and everything changed. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull isn’t so much a movie to watch but a movie to experience, and after experiencing it again, I was reminded how much better the world became in 2008 and how much more I know now than I did before Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
I am glad to know what a Steven Spielberg film looks like when he completely phones in the effort.
I am glad to know Harrison Ford can put away the Harrison Ford Acting Finger™ and play Indy as something other than what made him great because what he did with the character before didn’t work. Obviously.
I am glad to know the precise reason why Shia LaBeouf is being forced down my throat as the second coming of James Dean because “I have no idea” is a precise reason.
I am glad to see the destruction and disrespect of Marcus Brody – who in Raiders lamented being too old to go with Indy but in Last Crusade “got lost in his own museum” – was completed by having his head fall off a statue onto the hood of a car as the butt of a joke. If only they’d found a way to work a fart joke into it...
I am glad to know nothing is so ridiculous it can’t be brainstormed, typed in a script, go through storyboarding, get shot, edited, scored and released as a part of a movie including Indiana Jones using a lead-lined fridge to survive a nuclear blast, Mutt Williams showing off his fencing skills standing between two speeding vehicles while getting hit in the groin at every opportunity, and Mutt Williams bonding with a gang of greaser monkeys just before swinging from vine to vine with said gang of greaser monkeys to attack a bunch of Russians.
I am glad to see the forced addition of information to set a movie in the 1950s – the long-winded “you’re a Commie, Indiana Jones” bit after the nuclear blast sequence that was completely dropped for the rest of the movie – doesn’t necessarily help set the movie in the era or help the movie.
I am glad to know the spine-tingling, Pavlovian response to a bad guy screaming “JONES!” has less to do with the quality of the film or bad guy I’m actually watching and more to do with the what I bring into the movie.
I am glad The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles finally received validation in a cinematic Indiana Jones adventure and all the knowledge of world history gained from dutifully watching the The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles served me well when Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull mentioned Indy rode with Pancho Villa.
I am glad the final shot of the final cinematic adventure of Indiana Jones – Indy, Henry, Marcus and Salah riding off into the sunset in Last Crusade – was replaced with the two-hour brilliance of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
I am glad to know, beyond doubt, that the people involved in and responsible for creating or producing such movies as Jaws, E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, Star Wars, Back to the Future, Jurassic Park and The Six Sense among many, many others, are more concerned with obtaining an obscene amount of money than making something that resembles a decent Indiana Jones movie even though their combined worth is more than the GDP of several nations.
I am glad to no longer wonder whether I’ve wasted thousands of hours over thirty years of my life defending George Lucas and his creations in diners, coffee shops and bars across seven states.
I am glad to be able to provide the title of the movie to which I’d attach the phrase “The Worst Spielberg Film Ever.”
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