Director Alexander Payne and actor Paul Giamatti
previously teamed up for Sideways (2004) where the actor played a similarly
bummed out but know-it-all character touring California’s wine country. Here,
decades later, he’s the misanthropic classics-spouting history teacher, unloved
by students and colleagues alike, stuck baby-sitting students whose parents left
them at boarding school over the 1970 Christmas break. Payne and screenwriter David Hemingson do a
wonderful job fleshing out the characters of those stuck at Barton School which
also include Da'Vine Joy Randolph’s school cook Mary Lamb and Dominic Sessa’s troubled
student Angus Tully. As in Payne’s other
films, the film advances via humorous episodes (a sporting accident, a
Christmas party, a trip to Boston) and the characters’ relationships with each
other deepen and they learn something about themselves too. But Payne avoids the saccharine by ensuring
that the proceedings are adult and authentic feeling. He (and his team) also captures the time-period
not only with perfect set-decoration/art-direction/cinematography (think The
Paper Chase) but also in the social, race, and class relations depicted (amiably
defiant of norms in some cases perhaps). Bittersweet is the dominant flavour here but
that’s not to say that your heart won’t also be warmed. So good.
Having just watched Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with my
Dad, I can definitely see the family resemblance with Justine Triet’s Oscar-winning
Anatomy of a Fall. Both films
deconstruct a central death with exacting forensic/clinical investigations
leading to high-profile court cases with fallible defendants (Ben Gazzara in
the older film, Sandra Hüller in the newer one). They differ in the way that Otto Preminger
focused more on Jimmy Stewart’s lawyer, whereas Triet honed in on the relationship
between Hüller’s Sandra Voyter and her blind son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner)
who is the sole witness able to tell the court whether his father was killed by
his mother. Court cases in France do not
seem to follow the same rules as those in America, with the defendant (as well
as the defense team) freely interjecting (and/or being asked to comment) while
the prosecutor questions witnesses. Evidence mounts and seemingly supports a
strong case against the defendant – or does it? Hüller, who was so good in Toni
Erdmann (2016), is fascinating here, ably allowing us to doubt her while
remaining hopeful that she didn’t do it.
Absorbing throughout. It won the Palme d’Or at Cannes.
Japan’s entry for the Best International Oscar was
their first directed by a foreigner, in this case, Wim Wenders (Wings of
Desire, 1987). Koji Yakusho (Cure, 1997;
Shall We Dance, 1996) won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival in 2023 for
this film. He plays a cleaner for The
Tokyo Toilet company who services restrooms in the Shibuya area. But these are
no ordinary toilets! The film’s idea
itself apparently originated with these architect-designed toilet blocks that
were created for the 2020 Olympics – after the pandemic overshadowed
everything, the feeling was that the toilets did not get enough attention. So, a commission was offered to create a
documentary to highlight their uniqueness, but when Wim Wenders won, he decided
to create a fiction film instead. (Wise choice). We follow Yakusho’s daily routine in detail
and learn that it rarely changes. He is
a man who clearly takes pleasure in the simple things of life and is conscientious
about his work and his life. He also listens to cassette tapes of sixties music
and reads classic novels. He has a
particular interest in photographing trees (or one particular tree). Wenders takes a minimalist approach (this is
slow cinema) with some experimental flourishes to represent the dreams of Hirayama
(Yakusho), which unfold like abstract shadow plays. Gradually, we learn more
about Hirayama as a result of his interactions with other people (although his
routine shows him to be a loner who barely speaks). There is a mystery of sorts
here although many will feel the movie to be virtually plotless. The final shot
(or nearly final shot) is likely to be the one that garnered Yakusho his acting
awards and Wenders holds it long enough for us to ponder the character’s
motivation and emotions. After the credits, Wenders offers an insight that
unlocked the film for me: "‘KOMOREBI’
is the Japanese word for the shimmering of light and shadows that is created by
leaves swaying in the wind. It only exists once, at that moment.” I’m pleased to see Wenders’ success after a
number of years when his documentaries outshone his narrative films. Highly
recommended.
I’ve been following director Hirokazu Kore-eda since I
first caught After Life (1998) randomly in London in 1999 (and soon after found
his breakthrough film Maborosi, 1995, on VHS). He is probably best known now
for Shoplifters (2018) which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes that year. He’s
become an expert at the shomin-geki (family drama, or “common people” drama).
In many ways, Monster, Kore-eda’s return to Japanese film-making after stints
in France and Korea, falls into this genre too (but may also represent the
classic coming-of-age story).We begin
by following Sakura Ando’s single mother who becomes increasingly concerned
with the experiences of her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa) at primary school when
he comes home with a bloody nose and hurt ear.He tells her that the teacher hit him and called him “Pig Brain”.She confronts the principal who instructs the
teacher to make a formal apology to the parent, but without quite admitting everything.This agitates the mum who takes legal action
against the school.But the truth is not
so simple (as is often the case in Kore-eda’s films) and we are subsequently
treated to two more versions of events before settling in to see things from
Minato’s point of view. Without giving too much away, let’s just say that the
film transforms into a story about societal norms, constraints, and prejudices –
the way some people may be seen as monsters and may even self-stigmatise
themselves as monsters. But freed from these shackles, in a separate reality,
love can prosper. Although ultimately the film decides to move on from its
promise of a Rashomon-styled tale of subjective perceptions, the resulting
focus on primary human relationships (despite verging on the overly sentimental)
offers a triumphant conclusion. Unfortunately, the world we know may not allow
this euphoria to be sustained.
One of the first DVDs I ever bought, but it has been
ages since I watched it. James Mason
stars as one of the leaders of the IRA in Belfast, Johnny McQueen, who has been
hiding out after escaping from prison but is now planning a payroll robbery in
order to finance their operations. Yet from the start things don’t go right – Mason
plays McQueen as tentative and uncertain and director Carol Reed (later famous
for The Third Man, 1949) uses expressionistic touches to show McQueen’s
wooziness as he gets into the car to head to the job. Of course, the subsequent heist suffers as a
consequence and McQueen kills an innocent employee during the escape while also
being shot himself. He then falls backwards out of the getaway car, with his panicked
partners leaving him passed out in the road.
From there, the movie depicts McQueen’s journey through the snowy night
in Belfast, encountering numerous supposed loyalists and other friendly souls,
none of whom assist him enough to help him back to safety. At the same time,
McQueen experiences delirious hallucinations, as he is both dying and coming to
terms with his crimes. There is a burning spiritual fever in Johnny as he
attempts to avoid the police dragnet – but to what end? Kathleen Ryan is in
love with Johnny and wants to rescue him, but neither she nor anyone else can
see a way forward beyond Johnny’s pre-ordained fate. Reed and cinematographer
Robert Krasker shot the film as a blend of postwar neo-realism (the slums of
Belfast), film noir (the chiaroscuro lighting and dark themes), and expressionism
(McQueen’s visions distort reality). To me, the film seems to share structure
and themes with Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man (1995), which also follows a man on a
journey from life to death, offering a critique of society on the way. In both
films, humans struggle with difficult moral decisions where right and wrong can
confusingly depend on the eye of the beholder. Yet, at the end of the day, as the police
inspector hunting Johnny succinctly states, for him, there is neither bad nor
good, only innocence and guilt.
Less a thriller or a suspense film than a gothic
melodrama (popular at the time: Wuthering Heights, 1939; Gaslight, 1940/1944,
etc.) which stayed true to the novel by Daphne du Maurier (purchased for Hitchcock
by producer David O. Selznick). Joan Fontaine is the awkward young woman (a
paid companion for a boorish and matronly society lady) who meets wealthy Maxim
de Winter (Laurence Olivier) at Monte Carlo where he is vacationing, trying to
escape memories of his late wife, Rebecca. After a whirlwind romance, Fontaine’s
character becomes the new Mrs. de Winter and takes her place as the head of the
household at the beautiful and remote English mansion Manderley. From the
start, she feels that she does not measure up to the beautiful and
sophisticated Rebecca and this feeling is encouraged by Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson),
the unfriendly and hard-hearted housekeeper who was overly fond of the previous
Mrs. de Winter (some reviewers have suggested a same-sex attraction). Husband
Max does not make things any easier for Fontaine’s character (who is given no
first name), often reacting angrily and moodily when Rebecca comes up – and indeed,
since there are monogrammed R’s everywhere in the house, this is very often. In their excellent book about Hitch, Rohmer
and Chabrol point out that pairing an emotional woman with an unemotional man
in a two-shot became a trope of the director, something I never noticed before
(but is clear in Notorious, 1946, too).
Fontaine impresses as she transforms from vulnerable and insecure to become
a more confident partner to Olivier -- and both of them, as well as Anderson,
received Oscar nods in addition to Hitchcock himself along with best screenplay,
score, and a slew of technical category nominations. The film won Best Picture
and Best Cinematography, which held true to the Gothic style and produced an
air of mystery and ultimately suspense -- which Hitch injects into the film in
its final minutes as a startling twist is introduced and foppish cad George
Sanders almost destroys the burgeoning romance between Olivier and Fontaine. When Truffaut suggested to Hitchcock that he developed
his interest in the psychological dynamics of his characters when working on
this film, the great director agreed. A
must-see.
Totally absurd and amusing, feeling sui generis or at
least unlike anything else that I had seen at the time. But also, I guess, a straightforward high
school comedy where characters learn stuff and develop over time (maybe). As written
and directed by Jerusha and Jared Hess, this is funny stuff but which doesn’t
make fun of its characters, however ridiculous they may be. Jon Heder plays
Napoleon Dynamite as a sullen teenage nerd (even if the actor was already well
into his 20s), defiantly his own person, seemingly unaware that he might be
perceived as different. He’s got an
older brother, similarly but differently nerdy, and they live in rural Idaho
with their butch grandma (and later cheesy Uncle Rico) – it is hard to know
what decade this is because everything seems very dated (furnishings, phones,
vehicles) but then Kip the older brother is hanging out in online chat rooms
every night and meets a girlfriend that way. The plot, as it is, centers on
Napoleon’s new friend Pedro and his decision to run for class president
(against popular girl Summer). Pedro and
another of their friends, Deb, are played expressionlessly, leading to some
very dry deadpan humor (also typical of Heder who delivers ridiculous lines as
straight as possible). Amon referred to
them as NPCs. Essentially an anecdotal
film, with the usual high school rites of passage (school dance, confrontation
with bullies, class elections), all treated with disregard and irreverence –
yet there is nothing here that smacks of mainstream attitudes or commercial
filmmaking (not a teen sex comedy).
There is, however, one amazing dance routine by Heder that has to be
seen to be believed.
A bit under the weather on a Sunday afternoon with
just Amon (aged 11) at home and the Barbie DVD having arrived from the library,
so we chucked it in.It was a bit weird
to begin with – a grown man and a young boy watching Barbie – after the homage to
2001 (not quite funny but odd), the opening musical number, singing and dancing
in Barbieland, had us cringing.But
then, the movie started to show its true colours (beyond just pink), critiquing
the patriarchy, critiquing Barbie herself – and having fun while doing it and
more importantly, letting the audience in on the fun.Margot Robbie (Stereotypical Barbie) and Ryan
Gosling (Just Ken) play the dolls as not-too-bright but they grow in sophistication
(okay, she does) as the movie unfolds and they leave Barbieland for the real
world (where Ken discovers men have more power than they do back home). America
Ferrera and Ariana Greenblatt play our mother-and-daughter identification
figures with diametrically opposed feelings about Barbie.Will Ferrell is here as Mattel’s CEO and Rhea
Perlman shows up as Barbie’s creator Ruth Handler (we get some actual Barbie
history lessons, including from narrator Helen Mirren). There are a lot of
in-jokes for movie-lovers with nods to Monty Python, Jacques Tati, and more. It’s
silly but serious, funny but dark, and altogether knowing in a way that even
Amon understood.He thought the end of
the film might bring a world where women and men are equal (at least in
Barbieland) but, of course, even more apropos, the Kens (there are multiple
Kens and multiple Barbies, in line with the release of doll variants) only get
a slight increase in their rights (just like women in the real world).Director Greta Gerwig manages to tread a very
thin line (including a message but avoiding being too didactic) and creates a
wondrous world (with old-school special effects) that lingers with you long
after the movie has ended.
Classic screwball comedy that isn’t quite as frantic
as some but which still contains a fair few throwaway jokes buried in the
hubbub. As part of a scavenger hunt searching
for a “forgotten man”, sisters Irene (Carole Lombard) and Cornelia Bullock (Gail
Patrick) find Godfrey (William Powell) at the New York City dump, living with other
homeless men and looking the worse for it. When he decides to return with Irene
(after pushing condescending Cornelia into an ash pile), the night ends up with
Godfrey being offered the job of butler to the Bullocks, a surprise to father
Eugene Pallette and mother Alice Brady (and her “protégé” Mischa Auer – the source
of many laughs). He soon learns the family is chaotic, nearly unhinged in their
need for drama, and although living in a wealthy manner, almost broke (a secret
kept by Mr. Bullock). What unfolds next
is a life-lesson for spoiled children, a fairytale for those living through the
Great Depression, and a well-acted/directed/written (six Oscar nominations)
comedy. Surprisingly, Powell is given the straight role here but he plays it
with expert skill and holds things together while those around him improvise.
Highly recommended.
Celine Song’s debut film is a wistful and melancholy
reflection on many things, chiefly the people we used to be in earlier parts of
our lives. Perhaps it is telling that
the film includes two lengthy flashback scenes: first, 24 years ago when the
protagonists are around 12 years old and living in Korea, and then again 12
years after that, when one of them (now named Nora; played by Greta Lee) lives
in New York City (after her family migrated first to Toronto) and the other
(Hae Jung; played by Teo Yoo) remains in Korea.
They found each other as a result of facebook. I am sure this was a common experience at the
time (it was for me!) as people suddenly found that they could look up old
primary and secondary school friends to find out where they were now (and
marvel at how much everyone had aged).
But intriguingly those people you found again only knew a past version
of you, one that might not even feel accurate anymore. And, as Song points out, this odd feeling
might be even more significant for migrants, who may have even starker
differences between past and present selves, including speaking different
languages, practicing different cultural norms, etc. Such is the case for Nora. Yet, it is easy to romanticize the past, probably
even for those who have not moved places (as much as some of us have). In the
film we are led to feel that there could be romantic possibilities between Nora
and Hae Jung based on their friendship at age 12 and their rapid re-engagement
12 years later. But another 12 years
pass before they actually meet face-to-face and by then, Nora is married (to a
Jewish American, Arthur; played by John Magaro). When Hae Jung shows up in New York, will Nora
leave Arthur for him? Arthur worries about
this “fairy tale” possibility (and the Korean notion of pre-reincarnation past
lives creating a sort of destiny for lovers in this life). However, Nora (and
Celine Song, whose story this may be) may be more realistic than the men in her
life. Naturally, this film hit me in all sorts of ways and might be more
relevant for me than others, as a migrant myself, married to a migrant from
Japan, and, especially, as a 56 year old with many past selves. The reflective
tone (punctuated by quiet shots of NYC with appropriate music) was just right
for contemplating these things as well as the beautifully acted characters and
relationships within the film.
I guess we all know what to expect from a Wes Anderson
film by now: quirky characters played by name-brand actors (and handpicked
children or adolescents), outstanding but heavily stylized art direction (with splendid
use of colour), carefully chosen pop songs on the soundtrack, and a certain mix
of nostalgic, melancholic, whimsical, absurd, wry, knowing, and even dark
moments (often all at the same time). So,
with his 11th feature, do we just get more of the same? The answer is basically yes. This time, Anderson takes us to Asteroid City
(somewhere in the West of the USA but filmed in Spain) in the 1950s where young
people who have won a science competition creating futuristic inventions
(focused on space, mostly) are congregating for an event (chaired by General
Grif Gibson – Jeffrey Wright). The main focus (if you are able to focus amidst
the busy mise en scene) is on Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) who is
chaperoning his son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) but who also has his three daughters with
him because their car broke down on the way to the house of his father-in-law
(Tom Hanks), who then arrives to take them back. Also present are movie star Midge Campbell
(Scarlett Johansson) and her daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards). These families are marked by absent spouses
and their reaction to the fractured nuclear family (caused by death/illness/violence)
is the dark vein that Anderson mines here.
But it is easy to be distracted by all of the other events, characters,
asides, music, visual references, etc. that he throws at you. For example, you wouldn’t be surprised if Wile
E. Coyote showed up at any moment, as the art direction here is cribbed straight
from Chuck Jones (the roadrunner is here, although the coyote is noted only in
passing). There are also singing cowboys, flying saucers, a very topical
quarantine, allusions to Marilyn Monroe – in fact, the whole thing is staged as
a play within a movie, where Bryan Cranston narrates a recounting of what
appears to be a Group Theatre production (with Willem Dafoe and his actors
assisting playwright Edward Norton to develop what we are seeing in the film).
As such, Anderson repeatedly breaks the third wall and the actors play
characters playing characters, not just the characters themselves. It is dizzying. So, as before, your enjoyment of the film is
going depend on your appetite for Anderson. If you’ve cultivated an appetite
already, I would say that Asteroid City feels a bit fresher than The French
Dispatch (2021) but doesn’t reach the exalted heights of the Grand Budapest
Hotel (2014). I haven’t checked out
Anderson’s other 2023 releases – a trio of shorts drawn from the work of Roald
Dahl on Netflix – which suggests a surging productivity in the director. But how much is too much?
.jpeg)
