short film reviews, criticism, and occasional musing.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Shutter Island (2010, USA)

I really wanted to like Shutter Island. And for the first hour or so, I sunk into it as glorious pulp entertainment. Then it kept going. And going. Even well after pretty much everyone in the audience should have figured out what was happening, Shutter didn't let up - like Scorsese was loath to forego the lessons in obviousness that he learned on the set of The Departed (o hai rats). I am a fan of entertainment for entertainment's sake, and I would have been well satisfied had Shutter provided same, but Scorsese seemed to feel that he had to add gravitas by the bucketful to the proceedings. Despite some gorgeous cinematography and production design and great small turns by Max von Sydow, Jackie Earle Haley, and Ted Levine, I came away with a strong impression of a film that was pushing hard to make a point that didn't require quite so much muscle behind it.

Thinking on it a bit more, I think I may have figured out what it is that bothers me so much about Scorsese of late. The man has, seemingly, no sense of humor at all - neither about himself, nor about the films he's making. Shutter could have been an awesome opportunity for a sly, tongue-in-cheek dissection of a particular type of psychological thriller, but there was never any doubt that Scorsese would play it absolutely straight.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Passing Strange (2009, USA)

Coming into Passing Strange, it's important to know that it's not a narrative film - it's the Spike Lee's filmed version of a Broadway musical, a movie that breaks the narrative flow to the point that it occasionally crosses the line into documentary. The musical itself is musician Stew's semi-autobiographical picaresque, the accounting of a young black man's journey from 1970s Los Angeles through Europe and back again. It's a powerful piece, partly in subject matter - grappling with blackness, family and love, and the creation of art - but largely through an amazing cast and band. Stew himself narrates, observing as a version of his younger self (played by the amazing Daniel Breaker) stumbles through self-discovery. A bit too self-serious at times, as all musicals of this sort tend to be, Passing Strange is buoyed by a snarky sense of humor ("my porno films feature fully clothed men making business deals") and the sheer energy of a cast that knows its run is nearly at its end (Lee filmed Passing Strange during the last three shows of its Broadway run). I'm not an expert on concert films, but the closest comparison I can draw to Spike Lee's Passing Strange is Jonathan Demme's Stop Making Sense, and that's not faint praise.

Gamer (2009, USA)

I'm apparently on something of a Neveldine/Taylor (seriously, guys?) streak. After finally seeing Crank earlier this week, I decided to queue up Gamer on the recollection that it wasn't supposed to be quite as stupid as it seems on the surface. Aaaaand . . . entertaining, yes. Especially in the first half. But, unlike Crank, the duo doesn't give itself a finite playground upon which to wreak its mayhem - in Crank, Statham's Chev Chelios must fight his battles in near-real time, within a limited number of Los Angeles neighborhoods. But with the blank slate of techno science fiction, Gamer loses all sense of relativity. I'm not asking for realism here - the most entertaining aspect of Crank was how batshit crazy it was - but when point A doesn't meet point B, and doesn't even seem to exist on the same plane of existence of point C, the whole exercise seems futile. Gamer is an excellent example of a movie making shit up as it goes along - almost as if they shot it in sequence - but the rule changes are arbitrary and ultimately pointless. However, totally worth it for Michael C. Hall's puppet dance. Seriously. That was awesome.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974, West Germany) and The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972, West Germany)

A word of warning - no matter how much you enjoy expressionistic films populated by repressed Germans, I would not recommend watching back-to-back Rainer Werner Fassbinder films, especially if you're a Fassbinder newbie like me. (I had to watch The Core to normalize a bit. No, I am not kidding. (And that movie is amazing.))

That said, I think I'm in love. About halfway through Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, I was queuing up The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. Of the two, I think Petra was my favorite - it's incredibly audacious filmmaking, a series of four scenes taking place entirely in the protagonist's bedroom, as she converses with a series of friends, lovers, and relatives, her silent assistant a constant lurking presence. (That typewriter. Wow.) A few days later, certain images - the camera circling the outdoor cafe in Ali, Petra's first-date dress, the background paintings in both films - are still stuck in my head. Next up - the BRD Trilogy.

A Perfect Getaway (2009, USA)

A Perfect Getaway is a pretty enjoyable little action b-flick, especially if you choose not to think about it too hard. The twists are pretty predictable, but it's generally fun getting there, at least until director David Twohy (whose best film remains Pitch Black, although I vaguely remember Below being somewhat interesting) trots out a bit too much insight in the third act. Can't psychos just ever be psychos? Do we really need to hold up the final action sequence in favor of ten minutes of flashbacks?

And then there's the meta. Getaway is one of the most self-referential films of its type I've seen. This commentary - based largely on the fact that a central character is a screenwriter - is alternately amusing and anvilicious. By and large, however, it's refreshing to see a totally ridiculous film luxuriate in its own ridiculousness, which is why the final bout of exposition is a bit of a disappointment. If Getaway had kept its tongue firmly in its cheek and the pacing fast and mean, Twohy might have had a second cult classic on his hands.