GOLDEN GLOBE PICKS!

Upon scrutinizing the noms for the Golden Globe Awards, I realize that I've seen amazingly few of the films/series up for the honor this year. So I offer only two opinions:

1)Given the other entries, I hope/feel that Lost in Translation will clean up.

2) My faith in humanity will be restored if Arrested Development wins for best musical or comedy series. It probably won't. But it should. Let's face it, Will and Grace and Sex and the City have both earned their moments out of the sun.

And that's it. Other than that, I'll just watch and pretend that I'm hip to everything that's going on and not an introverted art house snob who could be made to believe that Cold Mountain is a documentary on Mount Hood.


Big Fish (2003)

In every conventionally made film (three part structure, more-or-less linear plotline, no involvement of Yoko Ono), there comes a point where the viewer makes a very important decision, one that will probably be the most important factor in forming an overall opinion of the project. That decision is more often than not unconscious, and should be. It’s the answer to this question: “How much do I care about these characters?”

Big Fish made me care. Oh, it made me care a lot. Enough to leave me in tears for only the fourth or fifth time ever watching a film.

Fine actor though he is, I had some doubts about Ewan MacGregor’s ability to portray the character of a fresh young Southerner. My worries were unfounded; his own talent coupled with the fine, genuine material to make the young Ed Bloom as easy to accept as a fourth glass of sweet tea at a barbecue joint.

Praising the work of Albert Finney as the elder Bloom is completely unnecessary. After all, has Albert Finney ever not done a character justice? What I’m getting at is that the film is well cast. That sums it up.

Going on plot and performance alone, Big Fish could have survived in excellence without the artistic eye of a skilled director. Ah, but it didn’t have to! Tim Burton is in full glory here, his surreal tactics as home as they’ve ever been in this exaggerated (or is it?) world of Ed Bloom’s past. He brings to life the classic tradition of the tall tale in one beautiful segment after another. However fantastic the story, it’s told with such childish glee and imagination that we want nothing more than to believe it, and can. I’ll bet that Burton and crew looked at the finished footage and questioned “fish stories” they’d heard themselves…and gave them a little more credence this time around.

But what kind of review would this be if no criticism was given? For me, the only aspect of the film that might want change is the notion of Jenny and the witch (Helena Bonham Carter as both) being somehow the same. I understand the purpose of the suggestion—lines between reality and fantasy being blurred, the futility of skepticism, blah blah blah—but it just doesn’t seem necessary, and seems too convoluted for the rest of the film. Then again, it does reinforce the film’s message: that there are sometimes more important things than literal truth.

Although we usually think along the same lines, in this instance I am disappointed with Roger Ebert (you may be familiar with him; he’s a critic of sorts, although his opinions aren’t tempered with the unadulterated and welcome freshness of an amateur’s). Unimpressed with Big Fish, his opinion was as much a shrug as a thumbs up or a thumbs down, dismissing the film as “doodling of a very high order” compared to Burton’s other work.

I think that Ebert reached my mentioned point of reckoning and just didn’t care, although that would have been impossible for me to do. Because art aside, I felt a personal connection with this film. And the presence or absence of that connection is key to appreciating it. I’m so glad that it was there for me.
- posted by Jeremy @ 3:13 AM

 
Gerry (2002)

Before seeing this movie, ask yourself three questions:

1) Do I like art museums?
2) Am I by nature a patient person?
3) Have I read Waiting for Godot? And did I like it?

If the answer to all three (okay, four) is yes, by all means see Gerry. It’s not so much a film as a semi-surreal piece of art to be absorbed and thunk on. Every scene is gorgeous, every single one. And I love that the film was written by the director and the only two actors in it (not counting extras). I don't know offhand of any other film that's such a complete collaberation.

However, be warned. I once jokingly conceived of a short film that involved me spending half an hour in a diner drinking coffee and staring at a pillow on the ground outside. It would end with my picking up the pillow and driving off.

That film would have more action than Gerry. No, really. It would.

Gerry is an easy flick to sum up: two guys named Gerry go hiking on a public trail at the edge of a desert, looking for “the thing” (we never know what it is; maybe they don’t even know). But they get bored and turn around. They promptly get lost in the desert and spend the next hour and fifteen minutes of the film walking around and trying to get out. One Gerry kills the other Gerry just before finding his way to the highway. And that’s it.

There’s very little dialogue during the 108 minutes, which leaves the viewer room to concentrate on the scenery. And also the little details—watch the proximity of the characters to one another, and check out those awesome camera angles. The murder scene itself is brilliantly filmed. It made me think of a parasitic vine slowly choking the life out of its host tree—without emotion, without sound.

Just for the record, there’s been some critical discussion of queer themes in the film. In interviews Van Sant himself has been ambiguous on the subject. My take on it is thus. Are the characters gay? Maybe. Is at least one character gay? Likely. But it makes no difference either way. Like so much else about Gerry, it’s a very vague thing.

If I ever mention Gerry to anyone who says, “I hated that movie. It bored the shit out of me,” I won’t hold it against them. It’s not everyone’s cup of cinematic tea. But I liked it. A lot. It made me think. And that’s something I don’t do enough of these days.
- posted by Jeremy @ 3:29 AM

 
Rat Race (2001)

Okay. I rented this one thinking that it would be sophomoric, low-brow, and basically just all around lame. I also thought that I might like it.

I was right on all counts.

I’m a Zucker brothers fan from way back, and that predisposed me toward Rat Race a bit. This effort—directed by Jerry Zucker, sans David—is a good example of the kind of comedy they do: slapstick, randomly goofy, and on occasion requiring Dramamine. Granted Zucker is only the director; credit for the writing belongs to Andy Breckman (credits include both SNL and David Letterman), but Zucker does a great job of eliciting the over-the-top, classic (read: somewhat dated) interactions of the actors that match the material well.

The film comes in at just under two hours, but the pace never slows. Remember the climax of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure? Pee Wee steals the bike back on the movie set, and rides into one catastrophe after another over the next few minutes? If you’d enjoy an entire movie of that, then Rat Race is your cup of tea. If not, then you’re with the critics on this one.

Yes, it’s mindless. And it’s uncultured. But screw all that. It’s funny.

(P.S. If you ever have a chance to peruse the DVD, make sure to check out the deleted scenes to see Cuba Gooding Jr. get folded up in a Murphy bed just before getting beaten up by Diamond Dallas Page. What a tragic cut to make.)

George Washington (2000)

Ah, David Gordon Green. The coolest thing to happen to the Old North State since Superchunk. He impressed me so much with All the Real Girls that I had to go back and see GW, his acclaimed debut.

It’s a wonderful film, truly. The gist: what would a group of poor, Southern, African-American (predominantly) preteens do if they accidentally killed one of their circle of friends? But it’s about more. What I took away from GW was the intense sense of struggle by the characters to overcome their unfortunate circumstances—being in the wrong town, with the wrong people, etcetera. And the power of a boy’s dream of being a hero, and his frustration at not knowing how.

But it ain’t perfect. It's identifiable as Green’s first film, as he falls into some pretentious traps that I’m sure a lot of well-educated, well-meaning filmmakers do. Too much voiceover. Too many quick cuts. And all the exterior shots are done in an orange hue that’s obviously meant to accentuate the harshness of the character’s environment. Which it does…obviously. It’s nice to know that he outgrows these tendencies before making ATRG.

And Green’s characters, although fully developed, tend to be somewhat idealized. In ATRG we ask ourselves, “Would these good ol’ boys really be acting so sensitive?” In GW it’s, “Would these twelve year olds really be acting so mature?”

But those weaknesses aside, it’s a gritty piece of stuff that deserves a lot of attention. Fie on those who’ve called Green’s films “indie films for the indie.” Because his plots are too relatable to be pigeonholed that way. I mean, c’mon. Hasn’t everyone wanted to be a hero…?
- posted by Jeremy @ 4:00 AM