Kat’s Film and Book Reviews

Charlotte Gray

2001 Rated PG-13

Directed by Gillian Armstrong

One thing about Cate Blanchett is that you can never tell how old she is. She can play anything from a love-struck innocent to an immortal elf queen, and her face, her high cheekbones and slanted eyes, always seems perfect for it. Like a rare few actors, she can convey love, panic, arrogance, pride, fatigue, and despair through the prism of that face without ever seeming to change her expression.

That skill serves her well as the eponymous character in the World War II film, Charlotte Gray. Charlotte is a single Scottish working girl of undetermined age (mid-20’s perhaps, though there is a gravitas about her that makes me want to skew it older), living with two roommates and commuting every day to London. On the train to London, she is coaxed into a conversation with a businessman, who learns two important things about her: she is angry about the occupation of France, and she herself speaks French fluently.

The businessman invites her to a book launch party, where she meets a young RAF pilot named Peter, played with beautiful depth and seen-too-much sadness by Rupert Penry Jones. They fall in love, become lovers, and then as happens in war, Peter is sent on a flying mission into France. His plane goes down, and he is declared missing in action, but is thought to be alive.

Driven by a desire to find him, Charlotte accepts an invitation from the “business people” that had hosted the “book launch,” to train to become a spy for the English inside France. All of this is set-up, because once inside France, Charlotte (now called Dominique) meets Julien, the French Communist resistance fighter played by Billy Crudup, and the story really begins. She struggles to keep her cover as she grows attached to Julien, Julien’s irritable but wise father, played by the ubiquitous Michael Gambon, and two Jewish orphan boys they have taken in but must hide. The body of the film is filled with deceptions, compromises, betrayals, manipulations, and the tentative blossoming of love in so many different manifestations. Julien and Charlotte work together to fight the Nazi oppressors, and to fight the encroaching fear that nothing they do will make that much of a difference.

I didn’t expect to like this movie as much as I did, perhaps because I’ve seen several war-era films recently that disappointed me. And I guess it didn’t get generally good reviews over all, but I found it getting inside of me, almost without my notice. Director Gillian Armstrong keeps things moving at an even, almost pastoral pace that matches the tidy farms and deep green fields of the French countryside, exquisitely photographed by Dion Bebe. The pace is so comfortable, and the French country life so pleasant, that when violence, anger, and betrayal erupt, it is as though the viewer has been tromped on by thick-soled Nazi boots. And cleverly, without calling attention to it, Armstrong brings those Nazis in at just those moments to provide an external expression of the internal turmoil her characters face. Whatever else you want to say about Nazis, you can always count on them to move the plot along.

Billy Crudup also gives a compelling performance as Julien, the Angry Young Man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Though the movie is named for its heroine, Julien’s character arc is nearly as strong as hers is, and his French accent even better (though it is a bit of a mystery why Julien has a French accent and his father has an English one). Neither Julien’s nor Charlotte’s choices bring much resolution, but do bring home the terrible price that war demands. Only the ending, hopeful but not sentimental, keep those costs from being too high in the end.

Passion of the Christ

2004
Rated R

Directed by Mel Gibson

I was in a unique position for the original release of The Passion of the Christ.  I was teaching in a liberal Christian college, which was nestled in a very conservative Christian culture.  From my liberal colleagues—most of whom refused to see the film—I heard strongly worded condemnations of the supposed anti-Semitism of the film, and critical, even horrified, assessments of the “unnecessary” violence of the film.  From my more conservative church members, I heard the elevation of the film to the level of Scripture–also often before they had seen it.

There’s some justification for considering the film to be faithful to the spirit of Scripture, even if it’s not exactly revelation.  With an emphasis on John’s gospel, borrowing from other gospels and certain mystical works, it’s hardly a mistake to consider the film a reliable resource for historical, even theological, information.  In that context, the charge of anti-Semitism needs to be addressed.  This is a more complex line of thought than it might seem.  The canonical evangelists, all but one of whom were Jews themselves, tended to be very hard on their own people.  Their frustration with the Jews was born from the exasperated love for beloved family members who refuse to act in their own best interest.  “He came to his own, and his own knew him not.”

But the fact is, the Jews had no power to execute anyone.  They were an oppressed and occupied nation.  Only the legal authorities of the Roman state, represented by Pontius Pilate and his military support, had any power over rebels, traitors, or insurgents.  Both history and Scripture make it clear: the Romans, not the Jews, are responsible for Jesus’ death and punishment.  The film does not equivocate in this matter.  Pilate was conflicted and compromised, Roman troops ranged individually from compassionate to sadistic, and in that context, Jesus suffered standard Roman punishments.

Though director Mel Gibson doesn’t leave the burden of blame on the shoulders of the Jews, he certainly does fail in exploring the untenable position the Jews were in in relation to Jesus of Nazareth.  Gibson plays the Jewish contingent at the surface level, giving his actors very little complexity to attach themselves to.  It’s faithful to the letter of Scripture, but misses an opportunity to flesh out the conflict, especially on the Jewish side.

The objection to the violence of the films is another matter, and it’s hard for me to be patient with that line of thinking.  I’m reminded of the anecdote about the British lady who objected to the film, because “it makes our Lord’s crucifixion seem so unpleasant.”   Whatever one thinks of Jesus, he was both flogged and crucified.  This is no sanitized-needle lethal injection in which the criminal just falls asleep.  It’s not even a bloody but quick beheading.  It’s one of the most tortuous and violent means of death ever perpetrated by men upon other men.  If you’re going to make, or watch, a film focusing on the suffering (and “passion” means suffering) of a historical figure, you’re going to have to deal with that suffering.  If you can’t stand it, then don’t watch it, but don’t criticize the filmmakers for being honest to the historical events.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s a point of honor; I can’t keep him from suffering, but since he did it for me, the least I can do is watch without turning away.

It’s that devotional impulse—the “he did it for me”—that appeals to the devoted Christian audience.  These are folks for whom the same Jesus portrayed by Jim Caveizel is a living, active presence in their lives.  To be exposed to the real suffering of the One they love most, to have it taken out of stained glass and Italian sculpture, is an incredibly powerful experience.  In that power is the reason for the film’s success.  For the faithful viewer, it’s all about the conviction that while Jesus was suffering, he was thinking of me.

Nevertheless, Gibson understands that even those of us who were “washed in the blood,” can’t maintain an emotional investment in non-stop, unbroken violence.  Gibson tempers the harshness of Jesus’ suffering, especially as he is more and more disfigured, with flashbacks of Jesus teaching and healing.  In these flashbacks, we see Jesus as active, intentional, and above all, strong.  This is a masculine, assertive Jesus, with both compassion and joy—and a bit of a temper.

Thank God for that.  Heaven knows that between numerous “Jesus films” and the efforts of countless preachers, we’ve had enough portrayals of Jesus that reduce him to a weak, asexual, effeminate being, the “declawed Lion of Judah” we so often get in church—“fit only as a pet for pale curates and pious old ladies.”  In addition, Caviezel is beautiful—physically beautiful—in this role.  The more bloodied and objectified Jesus gets, the more desperate we are to see the agent Jesus—acting on others, not being acted upon, and full of glowing health and vitality.  By the time Jesus dies in ugly horror, we need the Resurrection.  It’s a privilege and a profound relief to see our Jesus restored to his intensity and masculine beauty.

Gibson’s film is not above criticism, and it would be a mistake to transfer our love for Jesus to Mel Gibson. Jesus’ suffering seems abstract at points, leaving the viewer to wonder just how much Gibson counted on his viewers to fill in motivation and conflict.  The figure of Judas is creepy and pathetic, but we are given little insight into why he betrayed Jesus.  The androgynous Satan figure actually works surprisingly well as a symbol of the insidiousness of temptation, though I spent too much time trying to discern whether that was actually the actor’s own voice the figure used.  But in the end, the film was made with love for its subject matter, and believers, at least, benefit in the making-real of something that has too often been kept at a distance.

The Incredibles, 2004

Pixar/Disney

Directed by Brad Bird

Rated PG

It will not come as a shock to anyone that the world is rough on nice guys. And gals. People who have good hearts are paid lip service, and when we say that someone is nice we mean it in a complimentary way. We even hold up niceness to our children as an ideal for behavior and interaction: play nice, be nice, that’s not nice. But the truth is, the world, by which I mean the culture and the systems which order our life, does not nurture niceness. Sharing, helping, going out of one’s way to be kind, are met with suspicion, opposition and ridiculed as childish virtues. Ruthlessness, competition, and self-interest, while never explicitly encouraged, are the values of winners.

What happens, if, for the sake of the extremes of animation and the communication of the point, we took that dichotomy as far as it could go? What if the nice guys were more than just nice, more than just helpful? They would be Superheroes, the ultimate Nice People. They would be amazing people seeking only to do good, with bodies and skills that reflected the size of the hearts beating within. So, a man with enough inner strength to step out of his myopic world and lend a hand becomes a man with enough physical strength to help in extreme situations. He becomes Bob Parr, Mr. Incredible. And a woman who can multitask and care for others out of the deep wells of her compassion and omnicompetence becomes a woman who can stretch without snapping, who can be in two places at once without tearing herself in two. She becomes Helen Parr, Elastigirl.

And what does the world do to nice people? Especially Super nice people? It isn’t pretty. Mr. Incredible, in the course of his other professional nice guy duties, saves the life of a man preparing to jump out a window. The man slaps a “wrongful life” suit on him, and the floodgates are opened to lawsuits against anyone trying to help anyone without their express consent. The Superheroes are put out of business and sent into the Superhero Protection Program, where they are instructed to live out their lives in unremarkable anonymity. They’re not supposed to bother anyone with their inclinations to be helpful.

But some instincts run too deep to bury. Bob and his best friend Lucius, also a retired Superhero, can be found sitting in their car in dark alleys listening to the police scanner, and sometimes, it must be said, they give in to temptation. Yes, they go and help people. It’s illegal, it’s unappreciated, and their wives won’t be amused, but they can’t help it. Because they’re really good guys.

That’s just the set-up, of course. The rest of the action takes place when the opportunity to use their powers arises, causes a lot of trouble, and the Parr family has to decide who they really are. Their children have to be taught how to focus and control their powers, and Bob and Helen have to be reminded what really matters in the end. One of the beautiful things about this film is the portrayal of Bob and Helen’s marriage. There’s tension here, and not everybody is perfect all the time. But these two love each other for better or worse, and when the going gets tough, whether it’s an attack by a Supervillian or a chaotic family dinner, these two come through for each other, often with the kids in tow.

The acting is led by very strong performances by Craig T. Nelson and Holly Hunter as Bob and Helen. In a solely vocal performance, they convey love, competitiveness, anger, fear, relief, jealousy, and a whole host of other complex emotions in such a way that we forget that the art-deco sets and primary color schemes are not the real world. They may be animated, but every marriage should be this strong. In a tense moment when Elastigirl and two of her three offspring (baby Jack-Jack is home with a traumatized sitter) have just saved Mr. Incredible from the clutches of the villain Syndrome, Bob tells Helen to take the kids and wait outside so that he can finish the job. She interprets this as a sexist remark and is indignant, but Bob blurts out that for all his muscles, he’s not strong enough to lose her again. Nelson’s and Hunter’s acting in this scene is intense, the characters’ expressions are exquisite, and the audience is deeply touched by the dramatic purity of the scene. This is a top quality cinematic moment.

Mention also should be given to actors Samuel L. Jackson as Lucius/Frozone, and Jason Lee as the side-kick-wannabe-turned-Supervillian, Syndrome. If their performances aren’t as deep as those of Nelson and Hunter, they do their jobs and give us a friend we love to depend on and an enemy we love to hate. And of course, director Brad Bird himself, as Edna Mole, supersuit designer to the heroes. More than any other character, Edna makes Superheroism seem positively normal. In fact, she seems quite convinced that it would be normal, if not for the chic outfits she herself provides.

The partnership between writer/director Brad Bird and Pixar Studios is a fortuitous one. Pixar enjoys a well-deserved reputation as the industry’s leading creator of high-quality family films, such as Toy Story 1 and 2, Monsters, Inc., and Finding Nemo. And Bird, in his work on the “Simpsons,” the “King of the Hill,” and The Iron Giant, has shown us that in the midst of lives that range from mundane to extraordinary, nice people can have compelling and complex stories to tell. I don’t think it’s giving too much away to say that in The Incredibles, Bird sticks to his strengths, and the nice guys come out on top.

Arsenic and Old Lace

1944

Directed by Frank Capra

In the just-over-a-decade from 1934 to 1946, Frank Capra hit his stride. The movies in that era were

• It Happened One Night (1934),
• Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936),
• You Can’t Take It With You (1938),
• Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939),
• Meet John Doe (1941),
• Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), and
• It’s a Wonderful Life (1946).

Not all of these films were immediately successful (the stories of It’s a Wonderful Life’s initial failure are now Hollywood legends), but each of them had at its heart an idealism, a basic kindness and spirit of joy. When Capra’s worldview is combined with some of the best actors of the era (Clark Gable, Gary Cooper, Cary Grant, and James Stewart to name a few), the movies have staying power and endurance beyond many others of their time or ours.

Among the movies listed above, Arsenic and Old Lace stands out as a bit of an odd duck. Like You Can’t Take It With You, it was adapted from a stage play, and in fact it presents itself very much like a filmed play. Capra doesn’t choose to take the cinematic liberty of filming at multiple locations just because he can; instead he focuses most of the action within a genteel old Brooklyn house, and in the relationships between the characters. This is why a story about a family who has collectively murdered two dozen innocent people is actually a comedy.

Cary Grant stars as Mortimer Brewster, a drama critic and confirmed bachelor who falls for the minister’s daughter who lives next door to his aunts in Brooklyn. They get married in the first scene by a justice of the peace, then stop by Brooklyn so that he can tell his elderly aunts (Josephine Hull and Jean Adair) about the marriage, and so that she can pack for their honeymoon to Niagara Falls.

Once they reach Brooklyn, a few things become obvious to the viewer. One is that Mortimer dearly loves his aunts, who apparently raised him and his two brothers, Jonathan and Teddy. The other is that Teddy is delusional, and thinks he’s Teddy Roosevelt, but he’s harmless and in fact is a great help and comfort to his aunts. There is some plot point talk about having Teddy committed to an asylum, but nobody sees any rush about it. There’s also some remembering about what a horrible child Jonathan was, and how he’s been gone for twenty years.

One of the best scenes in the film is the one where Mortimer discovers, quite by accident, that there is a dead body in the window seat. He reveals this shocking fact to his aunts, who serenely say that the dead man is one of their gentlemen, the twelfth such poor soul they have ministered to by taking him out of this life by means of poisoned elderberry wine. Cary Grant’s facial expressions and physical reactions are priceless and some of the best in his career. For some reason the plot never quite explains, Mortimer decides that the best way to deal with his aunts’ pastime of murdering lonely gentlemen and burying them in the cellar is to have his brother Teddy committed to the asylum immediately.

In the midst of this family crisis, the long-lost Jonathan returns home, accompanied by sidekick Dr. Herman Einstein, played with a sort of tortured humor by Peter Lorre. Jonathan has lived up to the promise he showed as a child and has become a psychopathic criminal with no qualms about murdering anyone who gets in his way, including his brother and aunts. And Jonathan also brings a dead body with him, so that for a while, there is a shuffling of bodies between the window seat and the graves dug in the basement, causing the aunts to be terribly indignant that they are expected to read services over a complete stranger.

Through a series of unlikely slapstick coincidences, the bad guys are caught, the aunts decide to commit themselves voluntarily, and Mortimer returns to his bride secure in the knowledge that he is adopted and therefore not likely to inherit the insanity that “practically gallops” through his family.

The emotional linchpin of the film is the affection that Mortimer feels for his aunts, and Capra makes this clear at every point: Grant’s frustration at their inability to understand that killing people is wrong wars with his desire to protect them from themselves and the consequences of their actions. The film isn’t without some serious problems—the ending is too easy and belies the seriousness of the situation, Mortimer’s attempts to get Teddy committed when it’s the aunts who are murdering people don’t make sense and are never explained, and the scenes in the middle with Jonathan and Dr. Einstein are too dark and pull the mood of the movie down so far it never quite recovers, so that Grant’s slapstick approach becomes almost clownish in the second half. It’s not that Capra never confronts darkness, but it’s usually the inner darkness of crushed idealism or apparent futility that his characters have to face, not murderous relatives.

Still, none of that matters very much while you’re watching it. Cary Grant is extraordinary both as a comedian and as an actor, Hull and Adair are perfectly charming and believable as the aunts whose only motivation is ever kindness and compassion. Most importantly, Frank Capra knows where the heart of the film is, and keeps it there. It’s best to watch it knowing full well that the scenario is unlikely, the plot is full of holes, but it’s fun to watch and laugh with anyway.

No Country for Old Men

Directed by Joel & Ethan Coen

Rated R

2007

Warning: Possible spoilers. I’m trying to be oblique, but I might be giving some things away.

This review has taken me forever to write. I sat down and watched No Country for Old Men, and a week later, words still eluded me. Then I got the DVD for my birthday, and I’ve seen it a couple times since, but I feel like I’m still sitting stunned, with my mouth hanging open. The Coen brothers, Ethan and Joel, are geniuses with such a sense of a story’s deepest truths that the story weaves its way into the viewer’s thoughts and feelings and doesn’t let go. They always do this; all their movies are so enduring, so rooted in the human condition, that they are unquestionably among those few that will last past their own generation.

The story follows three men. Ed Tom Bell, played by Tommy Lee Jones, is the Sheriff of a Texas border county, and while he has a small-town sense of ownership over his territory, he also has the sense to know that his desert county is a major stop in drug trafficking between Mexico and the US. Josh Brolin plays Llewellyn Moss, a good old boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but tries to make it work to his advantage. Finally, Javier Bardem plays Anton Chigurh, a ruthless, creepy, and unstoppable assassin who is determined to take care of unfinished business—namely, Llewellyn Moss.

Javier Bardem as the unstoppable Anton Chigurh

One thing the Coens have always done well is the casting of their films. True, they do have some stock players (John Goodman and Steve Buscemi come to mind), but every movie is perfectly, exquisitely cast. Jones, Brolin, and Bardem offer the kinds of performances in these roles that don’t even require dialogue or action; the most intense, riveting scenes are the ones in which no one says anything and nothing seems to happen, and yet the tension mounts second by second (at one point, my son, playing computer games in the other room, shouted, “I don’t like this movie, it scares me!” We shouted back, “How can it scare you, nothing is happening!” But it was in fact extremely scary right at that moment). Only the most gifted actors can pull that off, and only the most insightful directors know enough to let them.

Nothing in this movie works out the way the viewer expects it to. It doesn’t matter; we can’t look away. And in the end, we really, really wish it had ended differently, but we also know that this was inevitable. We might wish it was different, but we also recognize that this was how it had to be. It was inevitable.

Josh Brolin as Llewellyn Moss

There are still pieces of this movie I don’t understand. What was with all the animals, especially the black ones? Who won in the end? Where did the Mexicans come from? Why didn’t Carson Wells just turn and shoot Chigurh, or run from him? Why didn’t Bell find Chicurgh, and why didn’t Chigurh kill Bell? What did Bell’s dreams mean?

As Ed Tom Bell might say, probably I don’t understand. I like things to fit together, for all the pieces to fall into place by the end, and this movie stubbornly resists that. That might be deliberate; life just doesn’t tie together that easily. And while fiction isn’t life, it does remind one that even if the loose ends still dangle, there are enough reasons to come back again and again and again. I’ve seen this several times now, and it never gets old, and I never, ever feel like I’ve experienced everything it has to offer.

Tommy Lee Jones as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell

1776
DVD Director’s Cut
Film: 1972
Director’s Cut on DVD: 2002

Image courtesy of Publius the Geek

After years of listening to the cassette tape of the 1776 soundtrack in my car, I was extremely happy when a friend gave me the movie on VHS. I’d seen it a few times, of course, and now I was able to watch it as part of our 4th of July repertoire. I did want to get it on DVD someday, of course, but we don’t mind having things on VHS if it’s all we can get.

I should have minded. I got the director’s cut DVD for Christmas, and the difference is stunning.

For those who aren’t familiar with the plot of the movie 1776, it’s about the American founding fathers’ quest for independence and the writing of the Declaration of Independence. It centers on John Adams, whose character is really a composite of both John and Samuel Adams. Adams is played by William Daniels with a sort of dry passion. He burns with intensity, yet he is at his most incisive when he’s dry and understated. From time to time he breaks out of understatement—explodes out of it—with shouts of, “Consider yourselves fortunate you have John Adams to abuse, for no sane man would tolerate it!” and “Commitment!” (If you are familiar with the show, you’re singing right now…)

William Daniels has priceless facial expressions, as does Ken Burns, who plays Thomas Jefferson, but I had no idea how much we were missing.

First of all, the DVD is in widescreen—the absolutely preferred method of watching any fim—and that makes a lot of difference. There’s a lot of action on the periphery that the TV-formatting cut out. McNair’s assistant is actually a character, Edward Rutledge and John Dickinson plot and plan back in the corners, and supporting characters do business that brings them to life. All because you can see them.

The DVD is also much higher quality than the VHS. It’s been remastered so that it’s clear and sharp, and somehow much less 70’s-ish in its photography. Not only are the supporting characters in the picture, but you can see what they are doing and how they’re reacting. Most of this cast is comprised of veteran stage actors, who are used to remaining in character for long stretches of time, so you can just pick one of them and watch, and he’s always perfectly in character.

The songs are very singable and well-produced, which allows them to avoid the early 70’s “sound” of the mostly wretched musicals of the era. These songs will last…and have lasted, as evidenced by the interest in having a remastered director’s cut in the first place. One song was cut from the screen version and is added back in to the DVD: the John Dickinson-led ensemble piece “Cool Considerate Men.” I was very excited by that, since I have heard it on the soundtrack for years, but never got to see it.

The director’s cut adds about 45 minutes of material back into the movie. I can see why they cut some of it out—the running time start to feel a bit long. But the bits that were cut included whole conversations with supporting characters, small things that illustrate their unique and formidable characters and bring these men alive. Political and philosophical differences actually make sense and the arguments have meat on their bones. Not a lot of meat—this is still a musical—but enough so that you can get the gist of what was at stake for our founders.

1776 has always been a favorite in my family, since we’re all history buffs (even the kids), and we’re all very patriotic. Sure, there are a few inaccuracies, but they’re not substantive ones. The general storyline is accurate, and the historical personages are portrayed fairly and with respect to the historical witness about them. They’re human, but they’re admirable and strong.

If you aren’t familiar with this musical, I highly recommend it. If you have only seen the VHS version, get the director’s cut on DVD as soon as you possibly can. You’ll be amazed at the difference.

Image courtesy of Celuloid Hero Reviews

The Twilight Saga: New Moon

Directed by Chris Weitz

Rated PG-13

2009

Image courtesy of The Twilight Guide

When the first Twilight movie came out a year ago, and was such a hit that the sequels were immediately greenlighted, there was one big question on everyone’s mind.

Who would play Jacob Black?

Jacob is, of course, the male protagonist in New Moon, and his character appeared briefly in Twilight. Taylor Lautner, wearing a long dark wig, played the role of Bella’s Native American friend…fine. He was good. I liked him, and I thought he did the part justice. He certainly looks a lot like I’d imagined Jacob.

But in New Moon, Jacob is a lot more than a dark-skinned buddy. He has far more face time than Bella’s vampire boyfriend, Edward, who leaves Bella in a misguided attempt to protect her from himself and his kind. When Bella falls apart, Jacob is there for her. He’s best friend, lifeline, and the one who helps Bella in her ill-advised escapades. The relationship between these two is deep, warm, loving, and compelling.

Plus also, Jacob has gotten huge. He’s developed serious muscles and grown several inches. That was the kicker…could baby-faced Lautner pull off that? Not just the appearance, not just the acting, but the sheer physical requirements of the role?

Lautner set out to prove that he could do it. He worked out tirelessly, taking his body from a slender 16-year-old’s to a Mr. Teen Universe 17-year old’s. He isn’t extremely tall, but he matches Robert Pattinson, who plays Edward, and that’s all that matters. Besides, since Jacob isn’t the only buff Quileute, it must be a casting director’s nightmare to try to find a half-dozen 7-foot-tall muscle bound Native American actors. Six feet tall seems to have sufficed.

That wasn’t all that Lautner did. He read the books. He studied Jacob’s character, his feelings, his motivations. He worked with an acting coach to get deep inside Jacob, to understand him, and to make that understanding show on the screen.

Obviously, Taylor Lautner really, really wanted to play Jacob. So director Chris Weitz took the chance, and re-cast him in the role.

Thank you, Mr. Weitz! Something happened to Lautner between Twilight and New Moon. He attained new depths of his craft—and managed to communicate humor, angst, fear, rage, violence and tenderness vividly, all without a shirt on.

In short, 17-year-old Taylor Lautner carries this movie on his muscular shoulders.

Sure, there are other good performances. Kristen Stewart finally has some emotion to work with, so her portrayal of Bella is deeper and more evocative than before. Robert Pattinson isn’t on screen much, and the parts that he does have are cut by the screen play, but he does a good job of portraying the terror, temptation and heartbreak Edward goes through—at least as much as he’s allowed to.

I think that Weitz and screenwriter Melissa Rosenberg give the Cullens short shrift for the most part, so they can spend more time on Jacob and his relationship with Bella. That’s too bad, because the scenes with the vampires set up the whole rest of the movie—and are vital to understanding the sequel, Eclipse.

There was one scene with the Cullens that stands out, however. After Bella is injured at her birthday party, Carlisle, the vampire dad and doc played by Peter Facinelli, takes her away from the other vamps to stitch her up. They have a quiet and gentle conversation, in which Carlisle explains to Bella why Edward is so reluctant to change her into a vampire. The common understanding is that vampires are damned, that they no longer have souls, and Edward refuses to rob Bella of hers. The scene cut some important stuff from the book, but the connection between Bella and Carlisle is very moving.

But when it comes to the Quileutes (and I’m just gonna give the secret away here—the young Quileute men are werewolves, okay?), the whole pack, led by Jacob (performance-wise, I mean—Jacob isn’t actually the Alpha) simply shines. This is where Weitz did his best work. The wolfpack actors make the most out of small supporting roles, they look hot shirtless, they’re both funny and menacing, and they photograph extremely well. Both the drive to protect and the incipient violence are offered in equally believable measures.

The heart of the movie is, of course, this love-triangle of sorts. Bella pines for Edward, and while we don’t see much of it on screen, Edward is also falling apart without Bella. But Bella, at least, has Jacob, while Edward is utterly alone. It’s no wonder, then, that when Edward thinks Bella has killed herself, he wants to follow her into oblivion.

In the meantime, while Edward is Bella’s one true love, she comes to lean on Jacob more and more, and his feelings for her develop and strengthen. He knows she’s wounded, but he falls in love with her, anyway. And she loves him, too, in her own damaged way. But Edward is always first in her heart, and when he needs her, she leaves Jacob and goes to him. That scene beautifully parallels the scene in the beginning of the film where Edward leaves Bella. Jacob begs Bella not to go, just as Bella begged Edward not to go. Bella leaves Jacob, anyway, just as Edward left her. And the result is heartbreak for everyone.

Besides the Quileute werewolves, another exciting group of characters enters the picture in this installment. The Volturi are a group of powerful vampires who administer the laws in the vampire world. They also mete out the punishments, and Edward goes to them to ask them to kill him.

The most prominent and notable of the Volturi is the character Aro, the head of the group, played by Michael Sheen. He was wonderful, and somehow managed to convey delight, interest, and bloodthirst in the same expressions. For a minute I really thought he was going to eat Bella!

Dakota Fanning, as the young sadistic vampire Jane, did justice to the role. There are only so many ways an actor can convey something that’s entirely mental, but her pain-inflicting red-eyed death glare did a pretty good job. She portrayed the authority and confidence of someone who knows she holds all the cards and always will.

There are weaknesses in the film, of course. I wanted Edward and Bella both to suffer more. In the book, they are wrecks, though we see more of Bella’s wreckage. But we didn’t see the depths of her devastation like we should have. I don’t think that it was Stewart’s fault; I think that Rosenberg was in too much of a rush to get to the werewolves and shirtless Jacob (and I guess I can’t blame her…).

The makeup was much better than last time, but gorgeous Nikki Reed, playing ultra-gorgeous Rosalie, looked odd in her blonde wig—why not just dye her hair blonde? And there was not nearly enough Emmett! His line about Bella being an older woman was awesome, but he should have had more. His part, like most of the Cullens’ was rushed through by the writer.

But kudos to the makeup people for how Edward appeared in the Volturi scene—except for the fact that he had gold eyes (a flat-out error—he wasn’t eating. His eyes should have been black), he looked wretched. That was good…he should look wretched there. And I wanted more from the reunion scene and the voting scene—again, they were rushed. Rosenberg needs to learn to slow down the emotional parts. We don’t read these books or watch these movies for the action or the special effects—we love them for the emotion. Let us experience it for a few minutes before you move on!

So, the final judgment on The Twilight Saga: New Moon is: Pretty Darn Good. The character and role of Jacob was the make-or-break element for this movie, and Taylor Lautner rose to the occasion beautifully. He really made the movie work.

The movie wasn’t without its problems, but what would we talk about on the discussion boards if it was perfect? I mean, beside Taylor’s abs…

Image courtesy of publispain.com

2004 was the year that everyone was surprised to see this quirky little film on the Oscar nominations list.  It deserved each of the six technical nominations it got.  But this film was more than just technically good; it truly deserved its place on that Best Picture list.  Even with a respectable slate of nominations for Adapted Screenplay, Art Direction, Cinematography, Sound Mixing, Costumes, and Editing (all but one of which, Cinematography, it lost to Return of the King) where were the nominations for Best Director, or Best Actor or Best Supporting Actor?

I realize that this was the year of the Return of the King (many of whose actors were also overlooked).  I’m a fan of the LOTR trilogy, so I can’t begrudge them any awards, but I’m indignant on behalf of Seabiscuit, which is really much more than it seems at first glance.

Set against the backdrop of the depression, director Gary Ross tries hard—sometimes too hard—to parallel the story of the horse nobody wanted with the story of poor workers that nobody seems to want, either.  It’s an effective parallel most of the time, even if it’s handled with inconsistency—sometimes we’re hit over the head with it, and sometimes it’s ignored.  But the parallel works to lay the background for the public’s investment in the little-horse-that-could, the equine David challenging the Goliaths of the racing world.

Far more important than the bad-horse-turned-good-and-giving-hope-to-the-nation story is the other parallel—the one about a boy who, like this horse, is struggling to find his place in the world.  Tobey Maguire plays jockey Johnny “Red” Pollard as a little guy with a huge chip on his shoulder.  He’s antagonistic and hostile, and his temper gets the best of him more than once.  When he’s not able to support himself by working with horses, he enters boxing matches in which he routinely gets beaten to a pulp, leading eventually to blindness in his right eye.

One of the more moving scenes in the film takes place through the eyes of Tom Smith, Seabiscuit’s trainer (Chris Cooper in a follow-up performance to his Oscar winning role in 2003’s Adaptation), in which from one eye we see a group of men trying to subdue the wild Seabiscuit, and from the other eye we see a group of boys trying to beat up a wild Red.  The parallel is clear, and from that moment on, Tom uses Red as Seabiscuit’s jockey.

The film avoids the common error of making the horse a centerpiece of the narrative; Seabiscuit is simply a prop, a device, as he should be.  The hero of this film is scarred and scrappy Red Pollard.  Red’s journey from explosive hostility born of pain to self-control and emotional openness is the central point of the story.  He never quite loses that intense, aggressive edge, and we don’t want him to.  He can deliver poetry or Shakespeare with an incisive and wounding sharpness, especially in moments where he feels he’s been betrayed by those he’s allowed himself to care about.

This is by far the edgiest and most complex role Maguire has played, and the refusal of the Academy to acknowledge it, while giving the nod to the film itself, was misguided.

Another golden performance was given by Chris Cooper, as Tom Smith.  He’s wise and determined, the voice of fatherly wisdom not only to young Red, but to Charles, Seabiscuit’s wealthy owner, played by Jeff Bridges.  Tom’s got a temper, to be sure, and some of the best scenes are the ones where Tom goes head-to-head with Red, with Charles playing referee between his two employees. The film is as much about the relationship between Tom and Red as anything else, with some added-on emoting by Bridges.  Bridges is always the same character in his films; fortunately, it’s a lovable and charming character, so we don’t mind spending time with him.

A good supporting cast rounded out the narrative.  Elizabeth Banks is good as Charles’ competitive young wife, and William H. Macy delights as Tick-Tock McGlaughlin, the erstwhile racing announcer.  Eddie Jones is a sufficiently unpleasant nemesis in his Lionel Barrymore-esque role as the rich and powerful Riddle.  Extra stars go to real-life jockey Gary Stevens, playing fellow jockey and friend George Wolfe, who challenges and supports Red whether he likes it or not.  All in all, this was a strong, well-told story that deserved more attention than it got.  But I guess the lesson we learn from Seabiscuit is that quality isn’t always measured in prizes.

Meet the Robinsons

2007

Rated G

Directed by Stephen Anderson

I was first introduced to this film through the Rob Thomas song, “Little Wonders,” which was on the soundtrack.  The song is a poignant tribute to the small things that make up a good life, the “little wonders” that take place in the “small hours.”  The things that make up a family and the memories that form it. 

This movie is about family, but it’s also about taking responsibility for your life.  The two themes are connected; it’s only when you are true to your gifts and take responsibility for your failures that you even become capable of cherishing those little wonders and small hours. 

The film begins with a flashback 12 years, to when a furtive, cloaked woman leaves a baby on the doorstep of an orphanage.  Twelve years later, that baby, named Lewis, is on his 124^th adoption interview, but none of his prospective parents have understood his passion for science and inventing.  He complains about his apparent unwantedness—even his mother didn’t want him—to the orphanage director, who gently reminds him that perhaps his mother couldn’t take care of him, not that she didn’t want him.

Fueled by that thought, he attempts to invent a brain-scanner, so that he can scan his own infant memories and get the information he needs to find his mother.  This desire motivates him throughout the film, as he learns about the bonds of love that make a family.

He gets a visitor from a young man from the future, who claims to be a time cop, but is in fact his future son, Wilbur.  The rest of the film has Lewis and Wilbur trying to repair a mistake that Wilbur made, while avoiding a cartoonish enemy, the man in the bowler hat.  They zip back and forth in time machines, present to future to past to present, encountering the memorable Robinson family and a few other interesting people.

The film is an interesting and brightly colored combination of You Can’t Take It With You and Back to the Future.  Some reviewers have claimed that the back-and-forth of the time travel is hard to follow, but most kids don’t find it so.  The villain isn’t scary so much as a nuisance, but provides comedic relief in several places. 

Lewis is able to let go of his desire to illuminate the past, to find his mother; a struggle that mirrors director Stephen Anderson’s experience as an adoptee who has not felt a desire to search for his birthparents.  It’s possible that some adoptees will not relate to how easily Lewis is able to turn his back on his past in order to “keep moving forward,” as the film’s motto suggests, but as an adoptive parent, I was gratified by Lewis’ realization that in the love of his new family, he has everything he needs.

The pay-off of the film, of course, is watching young Lewis find his place in a family as unique as he is.  No matter how many times we see it, there’s something deeply satisfying about watching the misfit find where he belongs.  Since we all feel that way sometimes, it gives us hope that we will find and claim our own rightful place. 

Independence Day

1996

Rated PG-13

Directed by Roland Emmerich

In the world of film snobs…er, I mean, scholars…Independence Day has become a sort of by-word, the standard for shallow movies that cater to the unwashed masses (read: people who aren’t film scholars).  It represents films that substitute sentimentality for substance and special effects for true plot and character development.

Whatever. 

I think the true problem for these critics is that in this film, the USA shows world leadership—moral, technological and political—and the President of the United States is portrayed as a brave, self-sacrificing, and wise leader…and it’s not even done ironically.  It’s played straight…as though this were some kind of Frank Capra film or something.

But that’s what’s so great about it.  What’s wrong with a film in which good guys defeat bad guys, armed not only with technology but with ingenuity and purity of heart?  Sure, it has its flaws, as any film does, but it’s fun and inspiring and really gets viewers involved… what more could we ask of a film?

The film begins on July 2 in the mysterious present.  A huge alien ship, 500 kilometers across, appears in space just above Earth, overcomes Earth’s satellites, and releases several other smaller ships—and by smaller, I mean 15 miles in diameter.  Each of these ships hovers over a major Earth city—in the US it’s New York, Washington and Los Angeles, at first.  They begin to blast and destroy everything.  The ships have shields that keep them from being harmed, even by nuclear missiles. 

The movie roughly follows four men, though those storylines sometimes split into six or more when we start following the women connected with the men.  Will Smith is a fighter pilot, Jeff Goldblum is a brilliant scientist turned cable repairman (his lack of ambition is a character issue), Randy Quaid is a washed up alcoholic Vietnam vet who claims to have been abducted by aliens a decade ago, and Bill Pullman plays the President.  Through a series of slightly-too-coincidental circumstances, the three are brought together at the officially-non-existent Area 51 (and the president is irritated that the Secretary of Defense didn’t think he needed to know this particular secret).

The president tries to establish some kind of diplomatic relations with the aliens, but they refuse flat out.  He learns that they are there only to destroy and pillage, stripping the Earth of its resources before moving on.  They are true bad guys.  The ironic thing (in a movie with no ironic commentary) is that the concentrated attacks on the world’s major cities and landmarks is a larger-scale version of later large-scale coordinated attacks in 2001 in the United States and 2008 in Mumbai, India.  They couldn’t have known it in 1996, when this movie was made, but post-9/11 these aliens look a lot like a higher-tech al-Qaida.

There are some flaws in the film, as I mentioned.  The multiple storylines can get confusing, but at least they all come together in the end, unlike other multi-narrative films (Crash and Love Actually come to mind).  And sure, it’s a heck of a coincidence that the four guys who can save the world all happen to end up in the same place at the same time (and that place isn’t even supposed to exist—a running joke in the film).  Then, when Jeff Goldblum’s character gets totally smashed on what must be a gallon of whiskey, he has an inspiration that completely and instantly sobers him up, rendering him articulate and competent in the blink of an eye.  The president’s young daughter is more of a plot device to show us how human the president is and how much he has at stake, but she’s not a real kid.  She never gets hungry, thirsty or bored, and she never whines. 

Nevertheless, the leads play their parts straight and seriously, which is the only way to make this work.  Bill Pullman delivers his speech about Independence Day for the whole world (the final battle goes down on July 4) with perfect sincerity and commitment.  Randy Quaid’s character is a bit cartoonish, but that’s how he’s supposed to be; he’s an embarrassment to his children until the end, when he turns it around, and we catch a glimpse of the depths that had been hidden all along.  Will Smith plays a cocky but competent fighter pilot, and while we know better now the heights Smith can reach as an actor, back in ‘96 we just wanted him to be cocky and gorgeous and to live the adventure for us (one of the best lines in the film is when Smith pilots a superior alien aircraft and shouts out, “I have got to get me one of these!”).  And Jeff Goldblum is his usual understated self (possibly the exact same character he played in Jurassic Park, now that I think of it).  But that’s the character the movie needed, so it worked out just fine (though I can never watch Goldblum in anything without hearing my father’s voice calling him “that idiot Jeff Goldblum.”).

The movie benefits from a strong supporting cast, as well, including Vivica Fox, Mary McDonnell, Judd Hirsch as Goldblum’s father (why didn’t anyone ever think of doing that before?), always dependable character actors Robert Loggia and James Rebhorn, Harry Connnick, Jr, as Smith’s destined-to-die best friend, and Harvey Fierstein as a typical but amusing neurotic character. 

There’s lots of death, fire, and a few creepy aliens slinking around, but the good guys get to blow stuff up, too, and they get to keep the moral high ground while they do it.  So, to heck with the stuffed shirts who can’t loosen up enough to enjoy a movie just for the sheer entertainment value.  It’s their loss.