March Highlights - film-wise

Well March has well and truly gone and without a single entry on this blog. So to kind of make up for lost time, I bring forth mini-reviews of some interesting films I saw last month.

Coal Miner's Daughter (1980) - I've been on a mini Sissy Spacek spree lately and by that I mean this film and 3 Women. And I quite adore her. I mean, she has a bit of a spooky, misfit onscreen persona about her, and she looks eternally adolescent even past her 20s - I mean this all in an endearing way.

But onto this film, I thought Sissy Spacek deserved her Oscar. She certainly fleshed out her character of real country singer Loretta Lynn, from her small town upbringing to making the big time and all the pressures that mounted in between. Plus, she sang the songs herself and thus, really owned the character. As for Tommy Lee Jones as her husband, he was nothing short of swoon-worthy. But moving on from the aesthetics, he also put in great work, trying to drive his wife's career, but at the same time having a bit of resentment of it. All in all a nice, moving biopic.

A Wedding (1978) - Ah, the frenzy of being at a wedding. Something always goes wrong and the strangest of encounters can occur. The great thing about this film is the way that the ensemble casting just works. It can be hard I imagine to focus on multiple characters and get a good story from each, but Robert Altman seems to do it with ease. There are so many interesting actors on board, and for me it was three of the actresses in particular that stood out - Carol Burnett, who is just great as the sexually repressed mother of the bride; Geraldine Chaplin as the wedding planner who lives for weddings; and Mia Farrow as the muted sister of the bride with strange revelations of her own. Quite a funny and entertaining film.

The Shining (1980) - In addition to my Sissy Spacek kick, I've had a growing interest in Shelley Duvall. I thought her performance in 3 Women was so fascinating. There's something raw and untrained about her acting. And at the same time she's so quirky and offbeat. And so she was my prime reason for finally relenting to The Shining. Otherwise, a film that also includes Stanley Kubrick and Jack Nicholson gets my intrigue.

Well, the film wasn't exactly the typical slasher horror film. Yes there's blood, there's suspense and there's supernatural elements, but they don't exactly 'scare' you. But haunt you, the images and the music certainly does, and linger with you after the end credits. And personally that's a much more satisfying experience.

I've heard a bit of criticism and poking fun of Shelley's performance, and everyone has probably heard of the 100+ takes Kubrick required for one scene. But I just think that if Shelley didn't act the way she did - where she's simultaneously weary, scared and just stunned at what's happening - I can't see how else it would have been. I mean there's no 'perfect' way to react to these kinds of situations, the reactions themselves need to be flawed and bizarre, and that adds to the surrealism of the film.

February Finds [part 1]

It's turning into an ace film February for me. Two weeks before university picks up again is ripe for some good viewing. I hand over the highlights thus far:

The Good Fairy (1935) --

I'm beginning to feel William Wyler could do no wrong (yes he could do silly caper fun like How to Steal a Million, but still no wrong). In this earlier fare, he directed wife at the time Margaret Sullavan in one of the cutest of comedies (penned by no less than Preston Sturges). The film is filled with sweet and tender moments - Margaret's raspy voice and sad eyes are at full disposal in her characterisation of the wonderfully named Luisa Ginglebuscher. In my first two encounters with Margaret (The Shop Around the Corner and The Shopworn Angel) I'll admit I didn't really like her because I felt she came across as too cold and inaccesible. But upon watching The Good Fairy I've done a switch around because she's delightful here.

Along for the ride is a wonderful cast. You have suave Herbert Marshall sporting a beard, Reginald Owen's waiter who tries to protect Luisa (he has facial expressions that are sort of reminescent of Eric Blore) and Frank Morgan as a hilarious rich man who wants Luisa to himself. You couldn't ask for much better.

I'll See You in My Dreams (1951)--

I kind of wasn't expecting this to be as wonderful as it was. I mean, as much as I am a Doris Day fan, I'm a bit wary of musical biopics. They have a general reputation of being dull and unrealistic. Well, I don't know how accurate I'll See You in My Dreams is, but dull it is certainly not.

The film chronicles the highs and lows of Gus Kahn (wonderfully portrayed by Danny Thomas), memorable lyricist of such songs as Pretty Baby, Makin' Whoopee, and the beautiful title song. It is also about the woman that helped him through it all--and tried to control his career too if you want to read it that way--his wife Grace Leboy (Doris Day).

I like the film for a few reasons. For one it runs through pretty smoothly and gives us a good insight into Gus' achievements and low moments; I believe a lot of that has to do with Danny Thomas. He injected into the character a right balance of humour, inspiration and self-loathing that makes him fascinating to watch. One of the other aspects that works is that Thomas and Day genuinely have a good chemistry and you can believe in their relationship. For the film's span, they are the characters and you can imagine that they are experiencing every moment as if it were real. The songs are also nice and beautifully sung - they contribute to the plot in their own way, giving further insight into our characters' feelings.

Trouble in Paradise (1932) --

Nobody does subtlety quite like Ernst Lubitsch. And I think this film best exemplifies that. While many a film today will show rather than hint, Lubitsch did the opposite in this early 30s pre-code.

Herbert Marshall's Gaston Monescu (God I love him) is a jewel thief who meets his match in fellow thief Lily (Miriam Hopkins). All goes well until the stock market crashes and they realise they're in financial trouble. Conveniently, opportunity strikes when Gaston somehow finds himself secretary to rich Mariette (Kay Francis). Trouble brews though when he falls for her.

Getting back to the art of subtlety, there are moments in this film where Lubitsch will ask of you to use your imagination and scenes become far sexier and classier (can you have the two together?) than they otherwise would have been. Case in point. Lubitsch's camera fixates on a clock, while Gaston and Mariette are heard talking in the background. Gaston is supposed to leave the office around five and get back to Lily. The clock dissolves into later hours, Gaston and Mariette have left. After the clock finally settles on one or so, you hear Gaston and Mariette coming back. You know he hasn't gone back to Lily. On paper it doesn't look like much, but on screen it's pure Lubitsch.

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

The violence factor (which wasn't too bad in the end--ugly but bearable) sort of turned me away. I mean heads being skinned sounds bad enough on paper. But I finally gave in because Basterds has been receiving some rave attention. And well, it deserves it.

I think it's probably the film of 2009 (of what I've seen) that is quite unique, so part of its director Quentin Tarentino's vision, that you couldn't quite compare it to something else. Painted with delicious visual design, intriguing characters (yes Christoph Waltz survives the hype unscathed--his character's fate is another matter-woops spoiler alert) and a plot that is really unreal.

It's called a fantasy world war 2 picture and this is perhaps why: a band of troops who call themselves the Inglourious Basterds, led by Aldo Raine (great performance by Brad Pitt) go out on a Nazi killing spree. Simultaneously, Shosanna (Melanie Laurent--great too-actually everybody in the film puts on a great show), whose family was shot by a Nazi, is out for a revenge, plotting the death of Hitler in the cinema complex she now runs. The two forces collide in a spectacular showdown at the cinema. Basically, that's the plot, but the way it unfolds is the interesting bit. It's just too bad I didn't see this at the cinema because it just felt so grand--not in a pretentious, self-aware way. Just in a well-written and entertaining way that suspends you in your seat. My predictions are that this film will have quite a cemented following.

A Review: Remember the Night (1940)

It being Christmas Eve, I thought a nice film to watch would be this seasonal treasure from 1940, Remember the Night. It recently came out on dvd thanks to the TCM archives, but unfortunately I couldn't purchase it. The next best thing was that someone had posted it on youtube. And now I can say that it was one of the best underacknowledged films I've seen of the year.

The film boasts the first onscreen pairing of Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray who would later star in the revered film noir Double Indemnity. Away from the bleakness of the latter film, Stanwyck and MacMurray sparkle in a romantic comedy that is nevertheless very moving.

The story - created by Preston Sturges so you can bet it's well done - is basically this: Lee Leander (Barbara Stanwyck) is caught shoplifting near Christmas time. Her prosecutor is John Sargent (Fred MacMurray) who, during court, realises it will difficult to win the case so he postpones it until after Christmas. However, noticing that Miss Leander will have to spend her custody time in prison, he turns sympathetic and requests her bail. Somehow she lands on his doorstep and before either of them knows it, they head out to spend Christmas together with Sargent's family. After the discovery that they are in love, coming back to court proves to be complicated. Watch out for a not so predictable ending.

The plot moves fluidly and is expertly handled by Mitchell Leisen (while not that well known, his filmography boasts other classics such as Easy Living). The filmmaking here is not flashy or auteurish, just well-polished which is in itself not an easy feat. One aspect that is noticeable though is the cinematography - Stanwyck was captured here so lovingly and her close-ups bring out all the appropriate nuances. There are some lovely scenes that are misty and shadowy and thus, bring out a romantic and moving atmosphere.

Fred MacMurray was sometimes stiff in his acting - mostly when the film is itself a dud - but here he is more than adequate and creates good chemistry with Stanwyck. As for Stanwyck herself, there's rarely a film where she's isn't great, but there's something especially moving about her characterisation here. She begins with rather a protective shell around herself, but gradually breaks it down as we get more and more into her personal world. She's quite poignant here. I've seen quite a few films of Stanwyck's over the last two years, but this might be the one that's really made me a fan.

All in all this is a perfect film to watch over the Christmas break or whenever one is in the mood for an entertaining and heart-warming film. Believe me, it has 'classic' all over it.

A Review: Avatar (2009)

I haven't really been reviewing films I've seen at the cinema (with the exception of a mini one of 500 Days of Summer), but I felt I'd just give out three cheers to Avatar, now that it's still fresh in my mind.

I first heard of the film late last year because of some boards on imdb (it always comes back to imdb...) concerning the most anticipated films of 2009. Well, as is sometimes the case for me, I didn't really give two hoots about Avatar then. A few things would have to happen before I bought into the hype: first a friend of mine from cinema studies showed me the trailer, and yes it looked interesting. But the aspect of the film that really got me hook, line and sinker was the film's rising star, yes Sam Worthington. He appeared on Rove and his story about his struggles in his career and the fact that James Cameron plucked him out of obscurity kind of grabbed me. Soon Sam Worthington becomes my current actor crush (God I haven't had one of those in so long) and his face seems to appear everywhere. So I watched the trailer again and I became as excited as ever for the film's release. This was a few weeks back.

Now it's Thursday 17th of December, and I can safely say in my current mindset, the film is worth the price of admission. Objectively, as a friend pointed out afterwards, the plot structure is kind of predictable in that it takes the path of most Hollywood narratives - conflict/resolution. And that's not so bad, only that the writing sometimes draws attention to its formula. Not that this ruins the film, hardly. The only other issue I had with the film is that it was quite long. My left arm ached so much.

But that was because I didn't want to move it. I was pretty enthralled throughout the film. I mean generally I have to move around in my seat when I'm watching any film. I moved once this time (I'm pretty sure). There's just something about James Cameron's Avatar that works for me. I like the story - ex-marine in a wheelchair joins a crew to the planet Pandora in order to exploit the land from the natives. He is one of three who turns themselves into these natives - three feet and blue-skinned, quite a marvel - through a machine called an avatar. It's their job to gain the native's trust to make the mission easier. Only Jake Sully, the ex-marine (Sam Worthington) becomes so embroiled in becoming a native that he finds his sympathies lying with them. And you can understand his love - Pandora is this beautiful, natural place where there's a deep ecology happening, humans are one with all other living beings around them. He's wary of all this 'tree-hugging' behaviour at first, but then he understands the connections to nature that humans have long ago forgotten. On this level Avatar is quite significant in today's age.

Of course, Avatar is also an action-adventure film and I'll say, for someone who doesn't leap out of their way for these sorts of films, I loved the suspense-filled sequences. I was quite into them, invariably displaying tears, excitement and horror. I can't imagine the painstaking effort taken to make the film what it is, and I won't try to. I'll only say that it's a visual treat to see this film and I only wish I had seen it in 3D, but alas, in its 2D format it's still grand.

Superlatives are dangerous to use, as I'm probably blowing up the film out of proportion. It's suffice to say that I enjoyed it, and I went into it knowing the hype. It's entertaining, exciting and makes you think and feel. What else is necessary for a good film?

A Review: Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957)

Frank Tashlin is an interesting director to emerge out of 50s Hollywood. He was initially an animator who moved on to live action features, and his abilities to draw out caricatures and exaggerated situations are evident in these latter films. At his best he could use film to mix entertainment with observations on pop culture. In Artists and Models, he explores the craze of comic magazines; in Hollywood or Bust, it's all about the film industry itself; and in The Girl Can't Help It, the emergence of rock n roll is explored. In 1957, Tashlin tackled the advertising industry with Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?

In a nutshell, this film is about Rockwell P. Hunter who works for an advertising agency (played well by Tony Randall). He's sort of at the lowest rung of the agency, a rather ordinary guy. That is until he finds the perfect endorser for the latest ad-campaign for Stay-Put Lipstick: none other than the blonde bombsell with the 'most kissable lips' Rita Marlowe (played nicely by Jayne Mansfield). The only thing is that Rock has to pretend to be Rita's 'loverboy'. And overnight be finds himself as a 50s Robert Pattinson, with a bevy of fans wanting every piece of him.

Tashlin's film is fully-equipped with luscious technicolor, a nice supporting cast (with Joan Blondell, John Williams and Betsy Drake) and great gags. One of the best gags is when Rita tells Rock he doesn't have to worry that they're the same height because she's bought him 'lifts'. They were commonly used by short men when up against taller leading ladies, such as was often the case with Humphrey Bogart and Charles Boyer. When Rock tries on the shoes he can't quite get the hang of them (mind you, he's also wearing this large suit belonging to Rita's beefy ex) and he sort of stumbles around the room, looking way out of his league. Quite plainly, he doesn't 'fit' into the publicity world of Rita.

On the surface this is a candy confection film that's well-packaged. But through a deeper lens, the film is exploring the manipulative world of advertising. To paraphrase Rock Hunter, advertisements try to convince ordinary people every day that their lives are lacking in something. It promises to fill that void, but really only provides an unattainable fantasy. As we see in today's industries, models are airbrushed, appliances don't always work as they're supposed to and we probably don't really need all those entertainment gadgets out there. As Rock discovers through his brush with fame, he actually likes being a humble, ordinary person. It's at the top of the business that people have problems, always trying to figure out a new way to sell their items and make the person at the bottom content. But it's a life of continued disappointment and pressue and ultimately, unfulfillment. Ordinary as he is, Rock has his family and not even money could substitute for that.

All in all, this is a wonderful film with great characters and great moments (including a sly side-commentary on the take-over of television in the fifties). It's executed well and with a lot to think about. It's a nice treasure of the 50s.

A Review: Samson and Delilah (2009)

Great films, really great films are hard to come by. Really great films produced in Australia are even harder to come by--lately.

It is thankful then when lyrical and beautiful films like Samson and Delilah are produced.
The words 'lyrical and beautiful' have to be taken with a grain of salt, though, because this film does cover some gritty issues that aren't glossed over nor should they be.

The film centres around two rural young Aboriginals, Samson and Delilah (played with realism and pathos by new-comers Rowan McNamara and Marissa Gibson). Their lives are fairly routine and very little changes during the first five or so days in which we encounter them. Then tragedy strikes Delilah when her grandmother passes away. Perhaps needing a change from their lives, Samson and Delilah move off to the city. There they find that they are just as isolated as they are at home. They struggle for food, find shelter underneath a bridge, endure hostile treatment from others and take salvage in petrol and in each other.

Some of the scenes are hard to watch because they're so confronting. Oftentimes you want to pretend that Indigenous issues don't exist. Very often one can go day to day and not think of such issues or care about them. The film depicts this and shows people--white people--looking down on Samson and Delilah and trying to shoo them away from their guarded society. Watching the film you find yourself despising these people, but then wondering if you're just like them. It can be unsettling. Such is the power of this film.

Warwick Thornton directed, wrote and photographed this film and he did a premier job at that. Although at times the film seemed initially slow-moving and so very quiet, but then the action and the emotions build up. The film gradually gains hold of your complete attention and then doesn't leave it until the credits roll. Before you know it, these characters and their plight are so important to you that whatever happens to them is going to deeply affect you.

The cinematography is beautiful. Thornton's camera captures beautiful sunsets and silhouettes. The rural area that Samson and Delilah live in looks simultaneously harsh and beautiful, depending on the scene. The camera also captures great close-ups of both characters, acting as a window to their feelings.

The end scene is one of the finest I've seen. In spite of all the brutality and despondency of before, Samson and Delilah give each other looks of hope and belief. I guess one of the film's ultimate message is that love, support and connection can be stronger than anything that goes against it.

A Review: A Damsel in Distress (1937)

In spite of a varied and rich career in front of the screen, Fred Astaire will perhaps always be most remembered for his partnership with Ginger Rogers in the 1930s. It seems the audience knew it even then, if box office statistics are anything to go by. I say this because the one time Fred decided to break away and make a Ginger-less film, it sunk.

Up till this day I'm pretty sure that this 'infamous' film - A Damsel in Distress - is still most well known for being the only one out of Astaire's 1930s output to lose money at the box office. However, with its steady 7.0 imdb rating and its availability on TCM, perhaps all is not lost with this somewhat obscure gem.

The opening title sequence alone promises that this film will deliver. Aside from Fred Astaire, you have a strong supporting cast led by the beloved partnership of George Burns and Gracie Allen. You also have Joan Fontaine who would later become an accomplished actress most famous for Hitchock's Rebecca. Joan was only beginning her career at this point and in addition, she wasn't a trained dancer. So consequently, as people have noted, she seems like a fish out of water in this musical. Nonetheless, it's always intriguing to see actors in pre-stardom roles.

Then there is George and Ira Gershwin, composer and lyricist respectively of the film's soundtrack. George Gershin wanted to be considered as a serious composer at the time, meaning he didn't only want to be working for money, but also wanting to compose for art's sake. Thus, he rarely composed for film musicals. I think due to the sophistication of George's music and Ira's well fitting lyrics, the film has a touch of elegance. The songs 'A Foggy Day' and 'Things Are Looking Up' are particularly beautiful and romantic.

The other major drawcard of the film is the director, George Stevens. At this point he'd already proved his ability with the Katharine Hepburn vehicle Alice Adams and with a previous Astaire-Rogers film Swing Time. In his pre-war career he was an accomplished director of comedy which you see in the film through a lot of light moments injected into the film with ease.

Once the film gets under way, you find out (or at least I did) that the film lives up to the sum of the talents involved. I can't be objective or elaborate where Fred Astaire is concerned, so I can only say that his great dancing, singing and overall persona is in great form here. George Burns and Gracie Allen establish the fundamentals of their partnership - he is the straight man and receiver of her endearingly loopy personality. Just about all the laugh out loud lines are thanks to them and their delivery. In fact their wonderful exchanges could be devoted to a whole new entry. Here's but one example:

Fred Astaire (to Gracie): What's today [the date]?
Gracie: Well I don't know.
George: You could tell if you look at that newspaper on your desk.
Gracie: [picks it up] Oh this is no help George, it's yeserday's paper.

The other main reason to see this film is for the two wonderful dance numbers between Fred, Gracie and George. As I found out afterwards, Gracie and George did a lot of soft-shoe stuff during their vaudeville years and George even taught tap dancing once. Well it's no wonder then that they dance so well with Fred. The standout is a amusement park number called "Stiff Upper Lip" where they go into this swirly room with slides and distorted mirrors. It's both funny, inventive and a showcase for talent.

The slight letdown of the film is the convulted plot akin to that of the Fred and Ginger films; except minus the charm of the latter. It's a formulaic plot that centres around mistaken-identities and mis-understandings. It's supposed to be funny I guess, but having seen these devices already through Fred and Ginger films, they wear thin. Unfortunately, Fred Astaire and Joan Fontaine don't have the best chemistry -- it's sweet and functional, but it doesn't sparkle.

Their dance number 'Things Are Looking Up', though more often maligned than not, tries to work around Joan's limitations: the garden setting blends in with her and Fred's clothing and they are filmed in medium-to long shot through a kind of low angle. You also don't see Joan twirling around much, but when she does she lands a little off-balanced. She's ok with the leaps, though, and there is some nice choreography framed around her strengths. But again, the dance number doesn't sparkle; it begins and ends with little emotion (one of Ginger's strengths) or technical consistency (which Cyd Charisse had in buckets).

However, I will give the romance one positive. The number 'A Foggy Day' not only utilises a beautiful song, but the cinematography too makes it the most profound moment of the film. It comes at a point where Fred thinks (again) that Joan is in love with him, but what he doesn't know yet is that another misunderstanding has occurred. While Joan looks down at him from her window, he's standing around the garden they danced in the day before. He starts singing in his melodic voice that blends as one with the music, and then he looks around himself, seemingly reminescing. All the while there's a sort of fog/light coming from the sky and it gives the whole sequence a magical look.

So in short, the film is delightful and charming in spite of some flaws. What you come away with is a film that holds up better than its box office stats would have you believe.

Blue Skies Turn to Grey

I'm not supposed to have much free time right now (not with my last essay of the semester hanging in the air and upcoming exams trailing not far behind), but I'm so pooped this evening or night. Blogging sounds like a good diversion.

But then we get to this pressing question: What to write about this time? I was going to write about film highlights I've had lately, but as it turns out, there has been really only one standout film I've seen since New York New York.

A back-story: Two or so weeks ago, on a Sunday night when I should have been researching for a French debate (which wasn't so crash hot in the end, but I digress), I chose instead to embark on a three hour filmic journey. It was something I had eagerly wanted to watch ever since a) I found out it was a good film and b) I grew really interested in the actress Jennifer Jones.

I mentioned the film's length, 3 hours, and on average such a length can give me pains and an incessant looking over at the time. Heck, even a one hour and a half film can have the same effect. But this film -- and I've neglected to give its title, Since You Went Away (1944) -- stood faithfully by rule number one "Thou shalt not bore". It was an engaging treat, combining interesting storylines with interesting characters.

The film circles around the Hilton family, who has recently had to separate from their husband/father who went to war (the second world war to be specific). And so we get a picture of what this war was like for those on the home front. We see this family feel that slightly bit emptier and then pick themselves up and do what they can for both the war effort and for their personal happiness. It's a bumpy ride for them, since they encounter happiness, then sadness, death, and then hope. And so you get this homely atmosphere, perhaps a little sweet and sentimental, but all the same their journey is genuinely touching. You want them to have all the happiness they could get really.

I can't quite explain it in minute detail, but this film was a treasure. There's something both slightly ominous and then sparkling about it. It never wants to be completely depressing nor completely light and make something frivolous out of war, so it straddles between the middle line and the result can be a sort of bitter and sweet combination.

All the main actors do a top notch job, but there were two that particularly stood out for me. There's Monty Wooley who plays a sort of war veteran (if I'm correct) who stays at the Hilton family's house because of housing shortages. He starts off kind of grumpy and keeps to himself, but gradually you find he has endearing qualities. He doesn't exactly have the most screen time, but he's a character who adds something to the atmosphere and whose presence gradually becomes familiar and more potent as you progess to the end.

Then there's the tour-de-force that is Claudette Colbert. I've seen four of her films and she's not one to disappoint. It isn't that she does something dramatic and dynamic with her role, it's really how she subtly underplays and remains the constant source of strength of the film. She plays the mother role and she's the kind of warm, understanding and capable mother one would like to have. She displays the range of her talent in this film, showing why she is one of the best comediennes of the 30s and 40s during the lighter moments. She's equally good in the more dramatic moments, displaying well her emptiness and struggles in the absence of her husband.

The cast is pretty much what is called an all star cast. You have:

- the aforementioned Jennifer Jones as the older sister, who matures from naive teenager to someone who learns what it's like to deeply love and then to lose that loved one,

- Shirley Temple (yes, the cute curly blonde Depression star with the addition of a few years) as the younger sister, who's as chatty and chirpy as any younger sibling is known to be,

- Joseph Cotten as the charming and cheeky-ish dear family friend,

- Robert Walker as Jones' love interest (curiously, and perhaps painfully, Walker and Jones were once married in real life, and were pretty much estranged during the production of this film. In an arguably cruel twist, David O. Selznick --producer and lover of Jones at the time--decided to make them the estranged couple love interests in the film. I think the chemistry is there in the film, but it's almost unsettling to watch with the above knowledge),

- Hattie McDaniel, as the Hilton's servant and dear friend is as warm and engaging as always,

- and in a great, deliciously catty role is Agnes Moorehead, portraying an irritable character to perfection.

So that's that. This is a great film. I think it would fit perfectly on a double billing with 'The Best Years of Our Lives' to show classic Hollywood's representations of the during and after effects of war. An idea for future curating?

A Review : New York, New York (1977)

Hmm, I'm not sure how easy it's going to be to review this film. I want to try and balance the good aspects with the not so good. I'll see how it goes.

This film is, for one, quite long. Apparently the original was four and a half hours long so director Martin Scorsese had to cut it. Well it went through a series of cuts and then a restoration of extra material, before finally standing at 163 minutes. How did I bare it? I rarely noticed the length, such is the engagement I had with the film.

But engagement doesn't necessarily equal a flawless film experience. I did have issues with the film, mostly because it doesn't move in a typical, familiar way. It's not simply a musical, nor simply a dramatic love story nor simply a comedy (because actually a lot of it is comedic, sometimes awkwardly so--deliberatly I think). It aims to be all and then to transcend genres and be something else.

The film could be what you may call a homage to those technicolour musicals of the 40s and 50s. It has some of the most beautiful colours swirled together and you can just tell that the scenes are taking place on lush, romanticised sets that probably bear little resemblance to New York as it actually was. But at the same time the film wants to express truth and it does this through Liza Minelli (as Francine Evans) and Robert De Niro's (as Jimmy Doyle) tumultous relationship. There's a certain tension between the artifice and the attempted reality of emotions, and I'm not sure if it works. However, I will admit that this tension adds a certain poignancy to the film (it is somewhat reminescent of watching the 1954 version of A Star is Born, starring none other than Liza's mother, Judy Garland).

Another tidbit is the seeming bipolarity (a word?) within the film. It goes through certain hyperactive moments and tries to balance this with more subdued, tender scenes. I'm not sure, but this could partly be because of the following trivia: both Scorsese and Minelli have stated that the dialogue was mostly improvised (though taking cues from the script) to add to the seeming reality of the main characters' relationship. Apparently it was hard to edit these improvisations and still make the film seem like seamless viewing. And so it feels apparent in the film, for when I examine the film as a whole I get some points of disjointedness. But again, I can somehow rebut this by saying that the film becomes truer to real life this way. Sure, we love a flawless film, but they aren't life. If we were to review our lives as a film we wouldn't get such a seamlessness. This is where, as a film New York, New York has room for improvement, but as a piece of reality, it works much better. Interesting that it can become this within the bounds of a lavishly photographed film.

So it turns out that when I get to the bottom of things, the above mentioned aspects of the film don't bother me much at all; they're simply passing observations. Perhaps the uneasiness I really have with the film is Robert De Niro's performance. I'm sure it's written in his character to be a tryhard Joe Cool and to be at times overbearing, arrogant and chauvinistic. However, there were times when I found him to be overdoing it. Maybe this is a feminist's perspective, but one has to ask what Liza's Francine really saw in De Niro's Jimmy. But then it got me thinking that indeed he does have a bit of charm and when he's tender and subdued, he's very likeable. Plus, he's a talented saxophone player which somewhat gels with her singing skills.

And I suppose there's this: in filmdom fantasy, only the most perfect man will do for the heroine. He's got to be effortlessly funny like Cary Grant and never be overbearing. And yet, often as he does, De Niro is attempting here to portray a person, not a movie-star persona. However, unlikeable he can be in this role (sometimes hamming it up), he's being that much more truer to life. In life, nothing moves smoothly, nobody has quite the right lines like in the perfect comedy; and nobody has the right things to say in painful scenes.

And actually I can't deny that there are some scenes where De Niro really excels (in that, rather than getting choppy moments of overacting, you're getting a more complete character), and you feel all at once that he's fading into the background, that he's quite not so successful without Francine. That underneath the Joe Cool act there's a bit of self-loathing. No it's not likely the performance that is going to make it into the top De Niro performances list, but it deserves to be looked at for both its flaws and triumphs.

I think Liza's Francine comes across as much more sympathetic. Her character development is less jagged than De Niro's and we can gradually see her move from wall-flower-ish singer to confident star. She has a notable naturalistic acting (perhaps helped by the improvisations) and her emotion-charged scenes work well. On a somewhat more aesthetic note, she looks quite stunning in the film. I also want to bring attention to her big eyes that are particularly haunting in one close-up scene. Her singing moments are also note-worthy for being in turns entertaining and poignant.

Just by writing this review, I'm starting to see something very special in New York, New York. It's an interesting, bumpy experience (just like Francine and Jimmy's relationship). It made me laugh, cringe, feel uneasy and all the while my eyes received such a treat through the cinematography and art design. An intriguing blend of a film that somehow transports you back to post-war 40s through a 1970s Scorsese lens.

A Review: The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)

I'm currently on a two week break which means...more movies for me (even with essay deadlines hovering in the air). So I had the urge today to do some reviews since I haven't done any of those this month.

So I guess while on the topic of films (and my self-declared incessant love for them), there's no better place to start than with Woody Allen's The Purple Rose of Cairo. To me this film is about films and how being in a cinema and watching lovely people have lovely idle fun, can somehow restore and rejuvenate you after reality has let you down (phew, long sentence). And also it's a heck of a creative and somewhat surreal film.

The film stars Woody Allen's main muse of the 80s, Mia Farrow, as Cecilia. She's somewhat in her late 20s in a period that is probably the mid 30s (so the depression is very much in the backdrop here). She struggles to commit to her job as a diner girl and at the same time she's enduring abuse and neglect from her husband. So it's no wonder Cecilia likes to go the movies so much. Cut to the latest film that's out, The Purple Rose of Cairo. It's characteristic of those 30s escapist films with their lush art deco and hot night spots and an explorer guy (played by Jeff Daniels) who ditches his search for 'the purple rose of cairo' to enjoy the company of wealth and an attractive night club singer.

Well Cecilia takes such a fancy for this film (as she finds herself increasingly dissatisfied with her real life) that she goes to see it about five or six times. It's on this last time that something really unreal happens: the explorer guy notices her in her seat, and then he speaks to her. Moments later he leaps off the screen (and we're to believe this is actually happening since both the cinema-goers and the characters on screen notice this). And so begins Cecila's too good to be true love story off the screen.

This is quite an intriguing film. I really like its blend of comedy and drama. I like how it's captured the 30s in its reality and made sure to separate this from the films of the same era. And I really like Mia's Cecilia, a very sympathetic character, who somewhat reminds me of Giuletta Masina in Nights of Cabiria. Both films are explorations of fantasy and idealistic dreams and both women find themselves used by men. And I think most significantly, the final shot of both is an affirmation of the human spirit.

So I guess in the end Cecilia learns that those lush 30s films are too good to ever be true, but that doesn't mean they have no purpose. They can still give her one and a half hours of bliss. I guess it's a bittersweet ending, but it shows me that film can be a source of strength and restoration (which they kind of were in 30s Depression).

A Review: Oscar and Lucinda (1997)

In 1997, Gillian Armstrong, the director of My Brilliant Career and Little Women brought to the film-going public something new to bask in, Oscar and Lucinda. The said title characters are just about my favourite kind (which is starting to become a kind of cliche in this blog): people who skirt on the outer edges of proper society; misfits; outcasts; un-fitter-ins (I made that one up myself to spice things up).

I'll say it right off. This film isn't perfect, nor is it near-perfect. The pacing is a little uneven, some scenes are perhaps too long, others perhaps too short, and perhaps this is not a film for those with weak attention spans - they, like myself, might be left wondering at what is happening. Oh, and the ending is cruel (well, that isn't the film's fault, but wishful thinker me would have liked it to be not so...bittersweet).

It's always good to get flaws cast aside at the start so you can move forward to the pros of the film. For me, positive number one comes in the form of Ralph Fiennes, whose beautiful light blue/green/ocean-like eyes are not beside the point but part of his wonderful characterisation of Oscar. There's expressions in those eyes that the camera allows us to focus on. We see sensitivity, awkwardness, love, risk--add your own emotion. So as you can gather, Fiennes made the film for me. Cate Blanchette's bold, assertive, independent, feministic (before the term was popular) Lucinda is a wonderful heroine. She defies society's rules and one delightful example is in her clothes: yes, she wears the frilly dresses of her time, but she combines them with long pantalons that can be seen. How do these seeming opposite yet similar one of a kinds meet? Through a passion of gambling--one is a priest who gambles to make money (Fiennes), another is a heiress who gambles to lose her money (Blanchett). The premise is delicious isn't it?

But like I mentioned, this film is bittersweet. It's a film that shows that love can be limitless and it can bring out the bravery you didn't think you had (Fiennes' Oscar, who had an unfortunate incident with water as a youngster, hates coming into contact with it. Yet, love makes him take a glass-made church through several rivers...). And that bravery can have costs. I say no more on the matter.

One of the wonderful things about the film is the score by Thomas Newman (he's a notable modern composer as far as I know--I hear much of his music through wonderful mvs on youtube). The music played during the titlecards and again in various moments, evokes the sweeping, glorified Australian landscape. It makes me think of untamed wilderness and freedom.

So though this film didn't reach the cinematic height of My Brilliant Career (to make an arguably useless comparison between films by the same director), it sparkles with individual charm. In the end it is the title characters that make this film worth one's while.

A Review: Carrie (1951)

First of all, this film is not an adaptation of the Stephen King horror classic of the same name--for one, it came before the publication of Stephen King's book (i'm pretty sure). It is, however, based on a novel that according to the dvd's back cover was considered controversial at the time of release (the film itself is tame for today's standards, but the themes are still significant).

I guess we all go into a film with some preconceived notions of what it'll be about. For me, the front cover--featuring a close-up of a man (Laurence Olivier) and a woman (Jennifer Jones) positioned close together--suggested that this was a straightforward romantic, costume drama. Somehow I never figured it would be quite as sad as it turned out to be. I don't know if you can place this film in the romance genre (though it has romantic elements). It's more the kind of film that challenges the idea that "love conquers all". While we often hear the affirmations that "love is all you need" (that one is courtesy of The Beatles) and that "money doesn't make the world go round", this film instead provokes us to further explore these (perhaps simplistic) ideas.

The setting of the film is something like turn of the century Chicago, where society is not quite so forgiving if you turn your head from your 'duties' (this all sounds so ambiguous, but let's see if I can elaborate). We enter the film with a young woman, Carrie, (Jennifer Jones-who even past the age of 30 still looks refreshingly youthful) who leaves home to venture out to make her living. Yet making that living proves difficult when she loses her job and somehow gets entangled in a sexual relationship with a well-off man (Eddie Albert). In this society sex before marriage is taboo and she soon finds herself ostracised from her neighbours. Wanting to get away from this relationship and find a more respectable living, Carrie finds her ideal in George Hurstwood (Laurence Olivier in a great performance). As the story begins to turn more towards George, we find out that he is a wealthy man with a family, and in theory, he should be happy, but he's in a loveless marriage. When he becomes acquainted with Carrie, he finds within himself emotions that he thought were long ago extinguished, and you see through Olivier's expressions just how much this man wants to be freed by the trappings of his current life. However, society being what it was and still is, when George's cruel and self-absorbed wife (Miriam Hopkins) finds out about his relationship with Carrie, she refuses to divorce him (since divorce threatens her own reputation in society)--which leads to a chain of events that keep spiralling until we reach the point where George no longer has access to his money and he and Carrie find themselves in poverish circumstances (you'll have to watch it to believe the injustice of the situation).

All the hardships and eventual departing between the two lovers might raise the question: was love worth it in the end? Even when at the end of the film where George is seen at his physical and financial worst, he still feels grateful that he was given the opportunity to find love. This is somewhat easier to grasp when we think what his alternative would have been: remaining in a yes luxurious life, which in spite of all that money could buy, wouldn't have presented him with the love that he felt with Carrie. I think by showing what George went through and by how he felt in the end, the film displays acute awareness that there is no right or wrong answer on this subject. One can blame George's society for his downfall, or that George himself should have known better, or even could see Carrie as some femme-fatale (or maybe not), and maybe a combination of things contributed to the ways things turned, but in the end, what's done is done--and the film chronicles that journey and I believe it allows the audience to come to their own conclusions (albeit with sympathy for George's plight).

The film was directed by William Wyler (also the director of Roman Holiday, among other notable pictures), and he's somewhat known as the director who usually extracts formidable performances from his actors (often by issuing repeated takes, which has the affect of breaking down the actor's mannerisms, causing them to be more natural). Wyler was particularly good at helping Laurence Olivier, who he had worked with once before (on Wuthering Heights). Early in his film career, Olivier couldn't quite shake off his theatricality (he's considered just about the greatest theatre thespian, and I would have killed to see him on stage), but Wyler helped to adjust Olivier to the toned-down nature of films, and in Carrie, Olivier gives one of his most natural performances. I applaud his sinking into his character, even moderating his uppercrust British accent to sound more American (I read that he modelled his voice on that of Spencer Tracy's, and with that in mind as you watch the film, you can kind of hear the Tracy-ness of Olivier's voice). I'm pretty sure Olivier's performance here wasn't Oscar-nominated, but I think it deserved to be. His slow decline from a handsome and wealthy man with everything society holds up high to a poor, tired and much more aged man is quite convincing-in particular, his voice and his expressions convey so much. Jennifer Jones is very solid in her role, she transforms well from a poor, small town girl with much dignity in spite of her upbringing, to a wealthy, mature woman. I feel that the script doesn't quite allow us to delve as much into her character as Olivier, but Jones allows through her expressions to give us a better understanding of her character. Also, I've come to the conclusion that the film shifts from Jones to Olivier to show just how he has become dependent on her, after she was initially dependent on him - they shift roles (she goes from poor to rich, and he does the opposite) and this adds more to the sadness of the film and to the social commentary. Even as I think now, I find myself finding more potential layers of the film--this is quite a film to think about.

So overall I can say that Wyler's great directing (it's really hard to find a film of his that doesn't work), the wonderful script that gives so much to think about, and the all round performances make this a film that rises above the kind of fare that quickly leave your consciousness once the credits stop rolling. This film feels somewhat timeless and so long as society itself exists, the themes of the film remain relevant. And if that doesn't mean a thing, this film can work purely on the level of seeing Laurence Olivier delivering a great performance.

A Review: My Brilliant Career (1979)

Sybylla Melvyn, what a wonderful character of celluloid.

This is in my opinion one of the finest films ever made in Australia by Australians (speaking as an Australian). And yesterday was my second time in seeing it. I really enjoyed it the first time and likewise with the second time (which doesn't always happen, does it? sometimes the magic can wear off and it feels as if you're not watching the same, once beloved film). It was great to see again why I like this film - the music, the capturing of the open Australian landscape, the great costumes that take you back in time, all the characters that shine, the messages of the film (which spoke out to me more on the second viewing).

A little on the plot. The film is based on a book by Miles Franklin. It's set in late 1880s colonial Australia and centres around Sybylla Melvyn (a young Judy Davis, who sinks right into her role), a young woman raised in a poor family who strives for an independent livelihood in a context where women shouldn't strive for anything higher than marriage and children. Sybylla is adamant about what she wants, but that is until the arrival of rich and handsome Harry Beacham (Sam Neill, appropriately dashing) - suddenly she is very conflicted. Sounds conventional, seen it all before, right? Well no. It's on the strength of the performances, the script and the direction that this film doesn't fall into the scrap heap of routine costume dramas. The film has depth and can spread messages to you if you want it to. It's true to life because it shows that you can't have everything, you're forced to make decisions and compromises and let go, as hard as that can be. And you've got to learn to live with your decisions and be satisfied, as Sybylla is in the final scene of the film (boy, don't I sound preachy?).

It's always nice to see a female director at the helm of a film, and in this case that director is Gillian Armstrong (maybe most famous for her 1994 adaptation of Little Women, which itself bears similarities with this film). Apparently the budget was tight in this film, but I never noticed. All I noticed was how craftly this was made and with much more effort and creativity than is usually seen in Australian cinema today.

A Review: What's Up, Doc? (1972)

Yesterday at the library, I finally came across this film (a film that I had been wanting to see for a while-the only place I saw it was at a dvd shop, and well, I didn't want to buy it in case I didn't like it). I loved it.

The film was directed by Peter Bogdanovich, one of the most devoted cinephiles of the world (I just read last night that in his youth he would see up to 400 films in one year-wow). He also happened to be an avid fan of classic cinema, and this film is an ode to one of the classic genre's: the screwball comedy. Here's a definition of the genre (according to wiktionary): A genre of motion picture made in Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s where opposites were juxtaposed; characterized by snappy dialog, and a blend of sophistication and slapstick.

The leading actors in this film are two of the definitive stars of the 70s, Barbra Stresiand (famous singer, but also great actor of Funny Girl and The Way We Were) and Ryan O'Neal (famous for Love Story--which is parodied in this film--and Paper Moon). They are supported by a great, madcapped cast.

I find that even though the film was a homage to screwball comedy, it still had its own unique feel. That might partly be because it's set in modern day (that is, the 70s for them) San Francisco, rather than instilled in the Golden Age past. But also partly because of Peter Bogdanovich and his team, who have been undoubtedly influenced by veins of comedy beyond the screwball genre (if that makes sense). Anyway, I like it all the better for what it is. You get both an entertaining, unique comedy, but also enough homage to potentially make people want to explore the screwball genre.

One of the elements in the film that is very screwball comedy (for lack of synonyms to interchange this term with) is that the lead male Howard (Ryan O'Neal) is a stiff-necked businessman who is more concerned with his paelontological career (a direct homage to Cary Grant in Bringing Up Baby) than living a romantic, adventurous, unpredictable life. His female lead Judy (Barbra Streisand) is the opposite--she plays the madcap heroine who brings Howard to the edge (but then Howard comes to realise he loves the edge).

On a side-note: I found it interesting that she constantly called him 'Steve' rather than his actual name (this simultaneously reminded me of two non-screwball films, but with decidedly screwball elements--which is arguably what What's Up Doc? is-- : To Have and Have Not, where Lauren Bacall calls Humphrey Bogart's Harry Morgan "Steve"; and Pierrot le fou, where Anna Karina calls Jean-Paul Belmondo's Ferdinand "Pierrot").

There are so many inspired moments of comedy, it's one of those films where the cast looks like they're having a whole lot of fun--in fact there's a behind-the-scenes featurette on the special features that suggests just that. There was a particularly candid, blooper moment when Ryan O'Neal's character asks Barbra "Where's my rocks?" and she just broke out in laughter. He then asked lightly to someone behind the camera-probably Peter Bogdanovich, "Why does she always laugh when I say that? I thought my reading of the line was pretty good."

I have much gratitude for comedies as wonderful as this. <3

A Review: Changeling (2008)

At heart, I like watching films that were made before the last four decades, but once in a while I get amazed by a recent film. Which is what happened yesterday evening when I saw this. If you ask me, this film kind of slipped under the cover last year. It didn't receive that much hype (or is it me who has been under a rock?) and the only real interest for me in seeing it was Angelina Jolie's Oscar nominated performance (Jolie is kind of over-exposed in the media if you ask me, and I wanted to see if she had acting chops--I think this is probably the first film of hers I've seen). Other than that I wanted to see another Clint Eastwood film (Million Dollar Baby being so wonderful and all). Oh and this film is set in the 20s and that is always a bonus.

Fascinating subject matter this film has, it perfectly explores the anxieties and anger of a mother with a missing son, who is brought back a boy who isn't him. You can feel the corruption of the LAPD, the isolation and alienation of this mother and the injustice of the matter. The film works on multiple layers, and Eastwood unfolds each without the film feeling like one jumbled mess. The film is moody and depressive for the most part, but as justice comes to the forefront in the form of several characters who have goodness and integrity, you can also feel hope.

I love the cinematography, the details that allow one to be transported to the late 20s. As far as I'm concerned the costumes are accurate and so are the set-pieces. The colour of the film uses a lot of dark green and brown shades that add to the sombre mood. The music completes the mood of the film-it has a tinge of jazz, but mostly uses piano sounds that are haunting.

This is my kind of film--thought provoking, haunting, a beautiful score and cinematography that places you in a particular time and space.

A Review: The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

I saw this film for the first time today. I've wanted to see it for a while now, particularly for Henry Fonda's performance (which has been oftentimes considered one that should have won an Oscar--well, now I can say, Oscars aside, it was a great performance).

The Grapes of Wrath (1940) is based on John Steinbeck's novel of the same name which was published in 1939. The film chronicles the Joad family, who lose the rights to their Oklahoma farm and embark on a gruelling journey to California to find work. The film is set at the time of the Great Depression, during which starvation and suffering were widespread.

Coming into the film I didn't realise it was going to be as sad and moving as it was. Hardships strike the family through the film and because you're there every step of the way, you really find yourself indentifying with them. Even so, there's never any "cheap" attempts/devices at the audience's sympathy, the film shows things as they were (and still are in poverty-stricken places). The inspiring thing of the film is that it shows how strong the human spirit is. It also speaks out against injustice--people who are poor shouldn't be exploited and treated as secondary human beings, they have as much dignity as the next human being, and it's beautiful to see as Tom Joad (Henry Fonda's character) begins to realise he needs to fight for his rights.

The other thing that strikes me about the film is the cinematography. The landscape is captured so well, various shots are captured from interesting compositions and I also liked the lighting/use of shadows in different shots--all this adds to the film and to the feelings which one comes away with. Much of this should be credited to the director John Ford, who I haven't seen a great deal of films of, but he's someone who I'm becoming more curious about.

In a word, this film is fascinating. Its impact is still very much with me some seven or so hours after I've seen it.