By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
On the surface, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a documentary about a failed documentary. At face value, it is a story about an eccentric, industrious, energetic, and perhaps completely talentless man who yet somehow manages to take the art world by storm. But below this narrative veil, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is really all about art—what it means to make art, what it means to view art, what it means to challenge the definition of art, and most importantly, what it means to be an artist. As it happens, “Exit Through the Gift Shot” is itself a work of art—a masterpiece of documentary filmmaking.
This movie begins and ends with Thierry Guetta, an enigmatic Frenchman who haphazardly transforms himself from an amateur filmmaker and purveyor of overpriced clothing into a controversial street art icon. At the outset—as the owner of a Los Angeles clothing store—Guetta earns a living by selling unremarkable clothes at a remarkable price. In the end—as a street artist named ‘Mr. Brainwash’—Guetta is as entrepreneurial as ever, and even more financially successful. But when the credits roll, what remains unclear is whether art is Geutta’s business, or business his art.
Guetta’s infiltration into the underground art scene is in part the result of an obsession with filming. For Guetta, no moment is too dull, no scene too drab, to be captured on film. Thus, when Guetta discovers that his cousin is a street artist who illegally paints and pastes familiar images of arcade aliens on freeway overpasses, street signs, curbs, etc, he begins to film his cousin’s work as an outlet for his obsession. Conversely, Guetta’s cousin and other street artists find Guetta to be useful as an assistant and lookout guy, and so allow him to tag along, camera in hand.
Over the course of several years, Guetta captures countless street artists on film; yet, one great street artist eludes him: the reclusive British legend, Banksy. Banksy, who is something like the Batman of street art, is famed for his pithy and ingenious artwork at high profile sites in London and around the world. By coincidence, Guetta finally meets Banksy in Los Angeles and manages to earn his trust. Although Banksy refuses to have his true identity revealed on film, he encourages Guetta to turn his video collection into a documentary. Guetta thus begins to edit thousands of hours of unwatched tape in the hopes of making a movie worthy of the great Banksy.
Unfortunately, Guetta’s movie is terrible. It is a buzzing mess. Banksy calls it “unwatchable,” and he realizes that Guetta is more of an obsessive hack than a genuine filmmaker. Nonetheless, Guetta is persistent, and he takes some reserved encouragement from Banksy as a sign that he is destined to be an artist. Guetta consequently adopts the moniker “Mr. Brainwash” and decides to use the clout of his acquaintances in the art community to build up tremendous hype for his own art show. With this show, Guetta seeks the vindication of his artistic abilities. Banksy, on the other hand, maintains that any praise for Guetta’s art says more about the art community (and perhaps more about art) than it does about the quality of Guetta’s work itself.
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” is a complex and beautifully crafted documentary that evokes the kind of thought and discussion that cannot possibly be canvassed here. This film is about a man who is the ultimate audience member; he is the paradigmatic viewer. And yet, this man—Guetta—fails in his attempt to capture the meaning of the art he sees. Interestingly, the creator of “Exit Through the Gift Shop” is none other than Banksy. Thus, the artist becomes the observer—he becomes conscious of his audience; he interprets his audience. In the world of street art—where the relationship between the artist and his or her audience is both critical and dynamic—Banksy has shown that he is capable of taking his craft to the next level, all while remaining anonymous. In making this clever (and hilarious, I might add) film, Banksy has at once become both Batman and the Joker.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
"City Island"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Everybody has secrets. Some are small secrets, such as when Carl covertly plans a trip to South America to surprise Ellie in “UP”, or when Ellie completes the photo album without Carl knowing about it. Then there are bigger secrets, like in “Avatar”, when Jake fails to tell Neytiri that he is actually aiding the U. S. government’s plot to destroy her home; or, in “An Education”, when David withholds the fact that he is married from Jenny.
Much like the characters in all of these recent movies, everybody in “City Island” has secrets, and some of them are bigger than others. However, unlike those films that have successfully captured the unintended and sometimes devastating effects of lies and deception, “City Island” has nothing new to offer. This movie is mostly unoriginal, often poorly acted and, most importantly, it just lacks that certain bounce—that verve—that is so often the saving grace of comedies that center on a dysfunctional family.
Vince Rizzo (Andy Garcia) is a simple, straightforward guy with a thick but down-to-earth New York accent. He was born and raised in City Island, which (believe it or not) is a quaint little fishing village in the Bronx. Vince is a college dropout that struck gold with a job as a prison guard and a vocation as the head of a beautiful family.
But despite his no-nonsense, “what you see is what you get” demeanor, Vince has a few secrets. For example, Vince smokes cigarettes (though, unbeknownst to him, everyone else in his family secretly smokes too). Also, Vince secretly dreams of one day becoming an actor. In fact, Vince takes acting classes at night, but he tells his family that he is just playing poker with the guys.
Vince also has some bigger secrets. For instance, long, long ago, he fathered a child out of wedlock and ran out on the mother. Thus, Vince is the father of an estranged son named Tony (Steven Strait)—a son who Vince finds out happens to be an inmate at his prison. For better or worse, Vince gets Tony released into his custody and brings him home to meet the family. Vince tells his family that Tony is a convict, but neglects to tell them that Tony is his convict, in the most literal sense of ‘his’.
Not surprisingly, Tony has some trust issues. But then again, so does every other member of Vince’s family. Vince’s daughter Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido) only pretends to be a college student. In reality, Vivian is a stripper. Vince Jr. (Ezra Miller), a skinny, sarcastic high schooler, is hiding a secret sexual fetish for feeding mountains of food to obese women. And Joyce (Julianna Margulies), Vince’s wife, is attempting to suppress (or maybe just mask) her unbearable romantic attraction to Tony, who is, of course, her husband’s son.
As all of the secrets eventually come out and the shouting reaches a fever pitch, Tony ends up looking like the most normal, most well adjusted, member of the Rizzo household. With a little prodding from convict, the family learns that it must fess up or break up, even when spilling the beans turns out to be more difficult than one might have imagined.
“City Island” is rigidly formulaic, and thus, just as day follows the night, this story follows many movies before it with the same tired and predictable plot. Andy Garcia does an adequate job playing a Joe Shmo New Yorker, but every other performance is spotty at best. The result is sometimes funny, but mostly awkward.
However, I should not pretend that this movie is never entertaining. After all, it is hard not to be entertained when the threads of countless webs of deceit all weave together. But, in all, this movie feels like a cheap thrill. It leaves you empty and a bit nauseous, like the slightly sick feeling one gets when riding a carnival ride that just spins you around and around and around.
Coastal View News
Everybody has secrets. Some are small secrets, such as when Carl covertly plans a trip to South America to surprise Ellie in “UP”, or when Ellie completes the photo album without Carl knowing about it. Then there are bigger secrets, like in “Avatar”, when Jake fails to tell Neytiri that he is actually aiding the U. S. government’s plot to destroy her home; or, in “An Education”, when David withholds the fact that he is married from Jenny.
Much like the characters in all of these recent movies, everybody in “City Island” has secrets, and some of them are bigger than others. However, unlike those films that have successfully captured the unintended and sometimes devastating effects of lies and deception, “City Island” has nothing new to offer. This movie is mostly unoriginal, often poorly acted and, most importantly, it just lacks that certain bounce—that verve—that is so often the saving grace of comedies that center on a dysfunctional family.
Vince Rizzo (Andy Garcia) is a simple, straightforward guy with a thick but down-to-earth New York accent. He was born and raised in City Island, which (believe it or not) is a quaint little fishing village in the Bronx. Vince is a college dropout that struck gold with a job as a prison guard and a vocation as the head of a beautiful family.
But despite his no-nonsense, “what you see is what you get” demeanor, Vince has a few secrets. For example, Vince smokes cigarettes (though, unbeknownst to him, everyone else in his family secretly smokes too). Also, Vince secretly dreams of one day becoming an actor. In fact, Vince takes acting classes at night, but he tells his family that he is just playing poker with the guys.
Vince also has some bigger secrets. For instance, long, long ago, he fathered a child out of wedlock and ran out on the mother. Thus, Vince is the father of an estranged son named Tony (Steven Strait)—a son who Vince finds out happens to be an inmate at his prison. For better or worse, Vince gets Tony released into his custody and brings him home to meet the family. Vince tells his family that Tony is a convict, but neglects to tell them that Tony is his convict, in the most literal sense of ‘his’.
Not surprisingly, Tony has some trust issues. But then again, so does every other member of Vince’s family. Vince’s daughter Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido) only pretends to be a college student. In reality, Vivian is a stripper. Vince Jr. (Ezra Miller), a skinny, sarcastic high schooler, is hiding a secret sexual fetish for feeding mountains of food to obese women. And Joyce (Julianna Margulies), Vince’s wife, is attempting to suppress (or maybe just mask) her unbearable romantic attraction to Tony, who is, of course, her husband’s son.
As all of the secrets eventually come out and the shouting reaches a fever pitch, Tony ends up looking like the most normal, most well adjusted, member of the Rizzo household. With a little prodding from convict, the family learns that it must fess up or break up, even when spilling the beans turns out to be more difficult than one might have imagined.
“City Island” is rigidly formulaic, and thus, just as day follows the night, this story follows many movies before it with the same tired and predictable plot. Andy Garcia does an adequate job playing a Joe Shmo New Yorker, but every other performance is spotty at best. The result is sometimes funny, but mostly awkward.
However, I should not pretend that this movie is never entertaining. After all, it is hard not to be entertained when the threads of countless webs of deceit all weave together. But, in all, this movie feels like a cheap thrill. It leaves you empty and a bit nauseous, like the slightly sick feeling one gets when riding a carnival ride that just spins you around and around and around.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
"How to Train Your Dragon"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
For some unknown or inexplicable reason, certain people just don’t have any luck. Through no fault of their own, these people simply have to put up with a lot more than others. They work hard but still get fired. They buy roses and giant stuffed animals for Valentine’s Day, only to be broken up with before the flowers are in a vase. However, these people—this unfortunate lot—can at least be grateful in knowing that things could be worse. For instance, they could have dragons chasing them around town on a regular basis. They could have fire nipping at their heals as they attempt to elude those giant winged reptiles.
This is just the kind of thing that the villagers in “How to Train Your Dragon” have to put up with. Luckily, these hardships and their playing out are anything but painful from the audience’s perspective. With the help of great 3-D animation and a fantastic score, “How to Train Your Dragon” more than compensates for its hackneyed plot structure.
The town in which this story is set is a small fishing village. This is a cold, stony, rainy kind of place—the kind of place that could only a thick and hardy kind of people could inhabit. And as if perpetual rain mixed with regular hail were not enough, from time to time, dragons of all shapes and sizes swoop down from the skies; they gobble up sheep and fish, burn houses and barns, and terrorize the locals.
These are the hazards that come with being a Viking. Thus, chief among the many virtues prized by the Vikings of this town is the ability to fight dragons. Stoick (Gerard Butler), an aptly named Viking of giant proportions, is the leader of this village and the best dragon killer in town. His tree-trunk arms and bushy beard reflect the stoutness of his character as well as his merit on the battlefield.
But Stoick has a problem. This problem comes in the form of Stoick’s skinny, stringy, scrawny son, Hiccup (Jay Baruchel). Hiccup wants to fight dragons, but his inability to wield even the merest of battleaxes precludes him from waging war. When the cries of battle rend the night air, Hiccup is either brushed aside or forced indoors.
This routine embarrassment is interrupted one night when Hiccup wanders off during a particularly fierce battle. With the aid of a clever contraption he built, Hiccup manages to shoot down the most dreaded of all dragons, the Night Fury. When Hiccup finds the trapped and injured dragon deep in the woods, he is given the opportunity to become a Viking hero. However, after looking into the eyes of this helpless dragon, Hiccup cannot kill it. Instead, he frees the dragon and in doing so earns the trust of his former foe.
With the villagers none the wiser, Hiccup befriends the dragon (which he names “Toothless”) and nurses it back to health. Toothless, who once seemed to be the devil incarnate, now looks like nothing more than a playful pet—some sort of overgrown Boston Terrier.
However, as time passes, the unfortunate implications of Hiccup’s extracurricular activities become evident. Hiccup must ultimately choose between the acceptance of his people on the one hand and the wellbeing of his new best friend on the other. Hiccup must either find a way to foster harmony between the Vikings and the dragons, or he must watch all those he loves perish.
“How to Train Your Dragon” has a very familiar plotline: Outcast finds unlikely friend. Friend helps outcast earn the respect of others. Others find out about friend. Outcast once again becomes an outcast. Outcast saves the day and unites his friend and others. Nothing new here. Luckily, this movie breathes new life into a tired plot. This is in large part because the animation is breathtaking (finally an animated movie shows what 3-D technology can do!) and the music is wonderful.
The characters in this movie are also endearing, and the story moves at just the right pace. The final battle scene, I am a little embarrassed to admit, sent chills down my spine. So while “How to Train your Dragon” does not show the ingenuity of Pixar films, it is definitely worth seeing.
Coastal View News
For some unknown or inexplicable reason, certain people just don’t have any luck. Through no fault of their own, these people simply have to put up with a lot more than others. They work hard but still get fired. They buy roses and giant stuffed animals for Valentine’s Day, only to be broken up with before the flowers are in a vase. However, these people—this unfortunate lot—can at least be grateful in knowing that things could be worse. For instance, they could have dragons chasing them around town on a regular basis. They could have fire nipping at their heals as they attempt to elude those giant winged reptiles.
This is just the kind of thing that the villagers in “How to Train Your Dragon” have to put up with. Luckily, these hardships and their playing out are anything but painful from the audience’s perspective. With the help of great 3-D animation and a fantastic score, “How to Train Your Dragon” more than compensates for its hackneyed plot structure.
The town in which this story is set is a small fishing village. This is a cold, stony, rainy kind of place—the kind of place that could only a thick and hardy kind of people could inhabit. And as if perpetual rain mixed with regular hail were not enough, from time to time, dragons of all shapes and sizes swoop down from the skies; they gobble up sheep and fish, burn houses and barns, and terrorize the locals.
These are the hazards that come with being a Viking. Thus, chief among the many virtues prized by the Vikings of this town is the ability to fight dragons. Stoick (Gerard Butler), an aptly named Viking of giant proportions, is the leader of this village and the best dragon killer in town. His tree-trunk arms and bushy beard reflect the stoutness of his character as well as his merit on the battlefield.
But Stoick has a problem. This problem comes in the form of Stoick’s skinny, stringy, scrawny son, Hiccup (Jay Baruchel). Hiccup wants to fight dragons, but his inability to wield even the merest of battleaxes precludes him from waging war. When the cries of battle rend the night air, Hiccup is either brushed aside or forced indoors.
This routine embarrassment is interrupted one night when Hiccup wanders off during a particularly fierce battle. With the aid of a clever contraption he built, Hiccup manages to shoot down the most dreaded of all dragons, the Night Fury. When Hiccup finds the trapped and injured dragon deep in the woods, he is given the opportunity to become a Viking hero. However, after looking into the eyes of this helpless dragon, Hiccup cannot kill it. Instead, he frees the dragon and in doing so earns the trust of his former foe.
With the villagers none the wiser, Hiccup befriends the dragon (which he names “Toothless”) and nurses it back to health. Toothless, who once seemed to be the devil incarnate, now looks like nothing more than a playful pet—some sort of overgrown Boston Terrier.
However, as time passes, the unfortunate implications of Hiccup’s extracurricular activities become evident. Hiccup must ultimately choose between the acceptance of his people on the one hand and the wellbeing of his new best friend on the other. Hiccup must either find a way to foster harmony between the Vikings and the dragons, or he must watch all those he loves perish.
“How to Train Your Dragon” has a very familiar plotline: Outcast finds unlikely friend. Friend helps outcast earn the respect of others. Others find out about friend. Outcast once again becomes an outcast. Outcast saves the day and unites his friend and others. Nothing new here. Luckily, this movie breathes new life into a tired plot. This is in large part because the animation is breathtaking (finally an animated movie shows what 3-D technology can do!) and the music is wonderful.
The characters in this movie are also endearing, and the story moves at just the right pace. The final battle scene, I am a little embarrassed to admit, sent chills down my spine. So while “How to Train your Dragon” does not show the ingenuity of Pixar films, it is definitely worth seeing.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
"The White Ribbon"
By: Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
“The White Ribbon” continues a recent (and wonderfully successful) German penchant for producing dark and disturbing historical dramas while also harkening back to great German films of old. Writer and director, Michael Haneke, who is best know for making “Cache” and “Funny Games”, channels legendary filmmaker Ingmar Bergman in this slow-moving but very intriguing movie about innocence, crime and guilt.
Set in a small German town before the start of World War I, “The White Ribbon” opens with a mystery. While riding into his garden after a long day of work, the town doctor’s horse trips over a nearly invisible wire that has been stretched between two trees. As a result, the doctor (Rainer Bock) is catapulted from his horse and ends up breaking his collarbone. The citizens of the town, who are not used to drama of any kind, are perplexed by this sinister prank. Countless men, women and children are questioned, but no culprit is found.
Amidst the uproar, the concern of the townsfolk is diverted when a local woman is killed while at work in the sawmill. This death appears to be no more than an accident, but the woman’s family is inclined to blame the baron (Ulrich Tukur), who transferred the woman to work at the sawmill after she had sustained an injury.
These tragic events arouse the interest of all the denizens of the sleepy town, but none more so than a group of repressed and ornery children. Parents attempt to corral their kids, but find such a task difficult amidst the uproar caused by injury and death. The town’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner) is particularly concerned with the moral education of his children, and so he punishes misbehavior by making two of his children wear a white ribbon. The white ribbon is intended to remind the bearer of purity and is thereby meant to serve as a deterrent from wrongdoing.
Whether or not the white ribbons make a difference for the pastor’s children, the mischievousness that began with the prank on the doctor reaches a new level. What once seemed to be a series of unrelated incidents begins to look like the concerted work of a single mind. Innocence seems to fade from a once peaceful town. Motivated by outrage, anger and a sense of injustice, many prominent citizens of the town—from the baron to the pastor to the town’s schoolteacher (Christian Friedel)—begin to investigate the crimes. But once again, no culprit is forthcoming. This lack of progress is due in part to the fact that each investigator is preoccupied with his or her own affairs and in part to the fact that each investigator has his or her own distinct suspicions. Amidst uncertainty, the entire town is torn between the desire to bring justice to the culprit and the desire to return to normalcy.
“The White Ribbon” is laced with uncertainty and ambiguity from beginning to end. Possible resolutions are as evanescent for the viewer as they are for the townsfolk. This is a fresh and interesting way to make a movie, and it is a device that has come to characterize Haneke’s work. What makes the lack of certainty in “The White Ribbon” particularly interesting is that it is not simply uncertainty for uncertainty’s sake. That is, its ambiguity is not a mere novelty. By the end of this movie, the audience will not only have considered several possible explanations for the story’s events (as have the various characters in the story); they will have also recognized that each possible scenario comes with its own significance and meaning. Were these crimes the work of a particularly sinful and mean-spirited member of the community? Or were they the result of repression—a reaction to religious indoctrination? Or were they ultimately God’s punishment for the sins of the town?
“The White Ribbon” certainly deserves its Academy Award nominations for Best Cinematography and Best Foreign Film. It is intriguing and beautifully shot. The slow pace, black-and-white cinematography, and weighty themes of this movie are reminiscent of (though not quite on par with) the work of Ingmar Bergman, who is famous for movies like “The Seventh Seal,” “Wild Strawberries” and “Winter’s Light”. This movie is not for those who demand action and entertainment, for this movie has demands of its own. “The White Ribbon” requires patience and meditation. Luckily, this movie is worth the effort.
Coastal View News
“The White Ribbon” continues a recent (and wonderfully successful) German penchant for producing dark and disturbing historical dramas while also harkening back to great German films of old. Writer and director, Michael Haneke, who is best know for making “Cache” and “Funny Games”, channels legendary filmmaker Ingmar Bergman in this slow-moving but very intriguing movie about innocence, crime and guilt.
Set in a small German town before the start of World War I, “The White Ribbon” opens with a mystery. While riding into his garden after a long day of work, the town doctor’s horse trips over a nearly invisible wire that has been stretched between two trees. As a result, the doctor (Rainer Bock) is catapulted from his horse and ends up breaking his collarbone. The citizens of the town, who are not used to drama of any kind, are perplexed by this sinister prank. Countless men, women and children are questioned, but no culprit is found.
Amidst the uproar, the concern of the townsfolk is diverted when a local woman is killed while at work in the sawmill. This death appears to be no more than an accident, but the woman’s family is inclined to blame the baron (Ulrich Tukur), who transferred the woman to work at the sawmill after she had sustained an injury.
These tragic events arouse the interest of all the denizens of the sleepy town, but none more so than a group of repressed and ornery children. Parents attempt to corral their kids, but find such a task difficult amidst the uproar caused by injury and death. The town’s pastor (Burghart Klaussner) is particularly concerned with the moral education of his children, and so he punishes misbehavior by making two of his children wear a white ribbon. The white ribbon is intended to remind the bearer of purity and is thereby meant to serve as a deterrent from wrongdoing.
Whether or not the white ribbons make a difference for the pastor’s children, the mischievousness that began with the prank on the doctor reaches a new level. What once seemed to be a series of unrelated incidents begins to look like the concerted work of a single mind. Innocence seems to fade from a once peaceful town. Motivated by outrage, anger and a sense of injustice, many prominent citizens of the town—from the baron to the pastor to the town’s schoolteacher (Christian Friedel)—begin to investigate the crimes. But once again, no culprit is forthcoming. This lack of progress is due in part to the fact that each investigator is preoccupied with his or her own affairs and in part to the fact that each investigator has his or her own distinct suspicions. Amidst uncertainty, the entire town is torn between the desire to bring justice to the culprit and the desire to return to normalcy.
“The White Ribbon” is laced with uncertainty and ambiguity from beginning to end. Possible resolutions are as evanescent for the viewer as they are for the townsfolk. This is a fresh and interesting way to make a movie, and it is a device that has come to characterize Haneke’s work. What makes the lack of certainty in “The White Ribbon” particularly interesting is that it is not simply uncertainty for uncertainty’s sake. That is, its ambiguity is not a mere novelty. By the end of this movie, the audience will not only have considered several possible explanations for the story’s events (as have the various characters in the story); they will have also recognized that each possible scenario comes with its own significance and meaning. Were these crimes the work of a particularly sinful and mean-spirited member of the community? Or were they the result of repression—a reaction to religious indoctrination? Or were they ultimately God’s punishment for the sins of the town?
“The White Ribbon” certainly deserves its Academy Award nominations for Best Cinematography and Best Foreign Film. It is intriguing and beautifully shot. The slow pace, black-and-white cinematography, and weighty themes of this movie are reminiscent of (though not quite on par with) the work of Ingmar Bergman, who is famous for movies like “The Seventh Seal,” “Wild Strawberries” and “Winter’s Light”. This movie is not for those who demand action and entertainment, for this movie has demands of its own. “The White Ribbon” requires patience and meditation. Luckily, this movie is worth the effort.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
"Crazy Heart"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, and with his help, “Crazy Heart” finds a way to surpass other movies of its kind. “Crazy Heart” does not do substantively more than has already been done, but this movie succeeds insofar as it mirrors a true country song; that is, with a slow pace and words that reverberate long after they have been sung.
Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a real country musician; he isn’t packaged, censored, or gentile. His charm is in his repudiation of all things charming, and his gravelly voice and stubbly beard don’t give due to his name nearly as well as does his lifestyle and demeanor. In short, Bad Blake is made from the stuff of legends.
Unfortunately, even legends age, and unless they can evolve into a new phase of fame, legends die. Bad Blake is no exception. By the outset of “Crazy Heart”, Blake has already made the transition from a country music rock star that strums to the sound of 10,000 screaming fans into a washed-up has-been croaking to the beat of the murmurings and vacuum cleaners at local bowling alleys.
Blake’s agent begs him to write new material—to adjust to the new demands of his art—but Blake is prevented from revamping his career by the strain of countless roadside venues and the wear of too many long nights of heavy drinking. That is, until Jean Craddock drops in for an interview.
Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is a local newspaper reporter who catches a break when Blake agrees to do an interview with her. However, the real purpose of the interview is obscured by the ever-amorous Blake, who is more interested in wooing Craddock than he is in scoring some local press. After several loosely conducted interviews Craddock begins to get a deeper sense of Blake, both professionally and personally. Despite the fact that Blake has already been married four times and has a reputation as a philanderer, Craddock cannot help but fall in love with the aging icon.
Craddock gives Blake a new verve that shakes him from his musical slumber. The new Bad Blake finds his creativity piqued in the twilight of his career as he strives to be successful while also allowing himself to be tamed by Craddock and her son, Buddy (Jack Nation).
But Blake’s renaissance is not without its tensions. In particular, the aging musician battles an alcohol addiction—one that not only threatens his increasingly fragile health, but also puts strain on his budding relationships. Bad Blake must reform or decline; remake himself or die.
At first, “Crazy Heart” has the feel of musical biography films like “Walk the Line” or “Ray”. This is rather odd, considering that Bad Black is a fictional character, and much of the appeal of musical biography films is in their ability to expose the human side of real-life legends. Nonetheless, Bad Black feels real, and so do his struggles.
Now, I must confess that the appeal of this genre of film is somewhat lost on me. I do not understand what is so intrinsically interesting about aging and washed-up head cases that aimlessly veer towards destruction. So I cannot say much in favor of that aspect of “Crazy Heart”. But what I can say is that Jeff Bridges is utterly fantastic. Bridges sings all of his own songs, for instance, and if he were not every note, strum, and swig of Bad Black in another life, you wouldn’t know it.
The themes in this movie are also interesting. Even if they are a bit clichéd, their artistic delivery gives them new life. Perhaps the most transfixing moment of the whole movie takes place during the closing credits when “The Weary Kind”—the movie’s theme song—is sung by Ryan Bingham. This song’s melody and lyrics perfectly capture the tenor of this movie.
“Your body aches, playin’ your guitar, sweatin’ out the haze. The days and the nights all feel the same. Whisky has been the thorn in your side; it doesn’t forgive … This aint no place for the weary kind. This aint no place to lose your mind. This aint no place to fall behind. Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try.”
Coastal View News
Jeff Bridges is Bad Blake, and with his help, “Crazy Heart” finds a way to surpass other movies of its kind. “Crazy Heart” does not do substantively more than has already been done, but this movie succeeds insofar as it mirrors a true country song; that is, with a slow pace and words that reverberate long after they have been sung.
Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a real country musician; he isn’t packaged, censored, or gentile. His charm is in his repudiation of all things charming, and his gravelly voice and stubbly beard don’t give due to his name nearly as well as does his lifestyle and demeanor. In short, Bad Blake is made from the stuff of legends.
Unfortunately, even legends age, and unless they can evolve into a new phase of fame, legends die. Bad Blake is no exception. By the outset of “Crazy Heart”, Blake has already made the transition from a country music rock star that strums to the sound of 10,000 screaming fans into a washed-up has-been croaking to the beat of the murmurings and vacuum cleaners at local bowling alleys.
Blake’s agent begs him to write new material—to adjust to the new demands of his art—but Blake is prevented from revamping his career by the strain of countless roadside venues and the wear of too many long nights of heavy drinking. That is, until Jean Craddock drops in for an interview.
Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is a local newspaper reporter who catches a break when Blake agrees to do an interview with her. However, the real purpose of the interview is obscured by the ever-amorous Blake, who is more interested in wooing Craddock than he is in scoring some local press. After several loosely conducted interviews Craddock begins to get a deeper sense of Blake, both professionally and personally. Despite the fact that Blake has already been married four times and has a reputation as a philanderer, Craddock cannot help but fall in love with the aging icon.
Craddock gives Blake a new verve that shakes him from his musical slumber. The new Bad Blake finds his creativity piqued in the twilight of his career as he strives to be successful while also allowing himself to be tamed by Craddock and her son, Buddy (Jack Nation).
But Blake’s renaissance is not without its tensions. In particular, the aging musician battles an alcohol addiction—one that not only threatens his increasingly fragile health, but also puts strain on his budding relationships. Bad Blake must reform or decline; remake himself or die.
At first, “Crazy Heart” has the feel of musical biography films like “Walk the Line” or “Ray”. This is rather odd, considering that Bad Black is a fictional character, and much of the appeal of musical biography films is in their ability to expose the human side of real-life legends. Nonetheless, Bad Black feels real, and so do his struggles.
Now, I must confess that the appeal of this genre of film is somewhat lost on me. I do not understand what is so intrinsically interesting about aging and washed-up head cases that aimlessly veer towards destruction. So I cannot say much in favor of that aspect of “Crazy Heart”. But what I can say is that Jeff Bridges is utterly fantastic. Bridges sings all of his own songs, for instance, and if he were not every note, strum, and swig of Bad Black in another life, you wouldn’t know it.
The themes in this movie are also interesting. Even if they are a bit clichéd, their artistic delivery gives them new life. Perhaps the most transfixing moment of the whole movie takes place during the closing credits when “The Weary Kind”—the movie’s theme song—is sung by Ryan Bingham. This song’s melody and lyrics perfectly capture the tenor of this movie.
“Your body aches, playin’ your guitar, sweatin’ out the haze. The days and the nights all feel the same. Whisky has been the thorn in your side; it doesn’t forgive … This aint no place for the weary kind. This aint no place to lose your mind. This aint no place to fall behind. Pick up your crazy heart and give it one more try.”
Friday, January 8, 2010
“A Single Man”
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
In his directorial debut, fashion designer Tom Ford shows a certain cinematic deftness that belies his lack of experience in film. “A Single Man” is a beautifully shot and wonderfully acted movie about George (Colin Firth), an English professor who is coping with the death of his long-time partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). Although the story develops perhaps too slowly—at a snail’s pace, really—the careful attention given to the aesthetic of each moment and each scene of this movie makes “A Single Man” a success.
George is a private, somewhat reserved man who is only brought to life by meaningful interactions with a few people—most notably, Jim. Thus, when Jim dies, George feels alone and in many ways bereft of vitality. The only living person who seems to be of comfort to George is his ex-girlfriend Charley (Julianne Moore); but even their relationship is strained by the fact that Charley is clearly still in love with George. Glimpses of color visit George from time to time, but such chimeras are promptly interrupted by golden yet painful memories of an older, better life. George’s mind and heart live in the past, and hence, have no dwelling in the present. Every moment is misery for George; each passing moment of his existence is more fragile than the one before it.
However, while George seems entirely oblivious to the world, others do their best to shake him from his reveries. Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a college student enrolled in the class that George teaches, and Carlos (Jon Kortajarena), a male prostitute, take a persistent interest in George, despite his reluctance to form attachments. Kenny and Carlos serve to complicate the ominous plans of George, who cannot decide whether or not life is worth living. He is rendered inert by the past and has given up on the present, and so George has only the prospects of the future to consider. When each passing day is no better or worse than the next, George must ask himself: is the dim hope of tomorrow worth sticking around to see?
“A Single Man” is nothing if not beautifully composed. The fact that Tom Ford is a fashion designer truly shines through in this movie. The chic wardrobe, for example, or the jaunty posture with which Colin Firth walks, makes each scene distinctively hip and teeming with style. What is more, Ford adeptly applies his aesthetic eye to the cinematography of the movie in a way that is often understated but immensely expressive. Tight shots of an actor’s lips or eyes and gentle changes in the tone of the colors reveal more about the characters and the story than do any of the words.
Beyond the look of the movie, the acting is worthy of note. In particular, Colin Firth plays the part of a mourning yet dignified intellectual with the utmost ease. It is somehow easy to believe that Firth must really be George, if ever such a person existed.
If “A Single Man” has a flaw it is that the story lags. In fact, it is probably more accurate to describe this movie as a meditation on the emotional experience of loss rather than as a plot-driven narrative. There are certainly some interesting (and maybe even profound) ideas tossed about here and there, but it is clear that Ford’s primary goal is the achievement of a look or feel, and not the telling of a story or the communication of ideas.
Nonetheless, “A Single Man” is an interesting and gripping film that is truly a unique experience; it is a rather nice accomplishment for Ford in his first movie.
Coastal View News
In his directorial debut, fashion designer Tom Ford shows a certain cinematic deftness that belies his lack of experience in film. “A Single Man” is a beautifully shot and wonderfully acted movie about George (Colin Firth), an English professor who is coping with the death of his long-time partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). Although the story develops perhaps too slowly—at a snail’s pace, really—the careful attention given to the aesthetic of each moment and each scene of this movie makes “A Single Man” a success.
George is a private, somewhat reserved man who is only brought to life by meaningful interactions with a few people—most notably, Jim. Thus, when Jim dies, George feels alone and in many ways bereft of vitality. The only living person who seems to be of comfort to George is his ex-girlfriend Charley (Julianne Moore); but even their relationship is strained by the fact that Charley is clearly still in love with George. Glimpses of color visit George from time to time, but such chimeras are promptly interrupted by golden yet painful memories of an older, better life. George’s mind and heart live in the past, and hence, have no dwelling in the present. Every moment is misery for George; each passing moment of his existence is more fragile than the one before it.
However, while George seems entirely oblivious to the world, others do their best to shake him from his reveries. Kenny (Nicholas Hoult), a college student enrolled in the class that George teaches, and Carlos (Jon Kortajarena), a male prostitute, take a persistent interest in George, despite his reluctance to form attachments. Kenny and Carlos serve to complicate the ominous plans of George, who cannot decide whether or not life is worth living. He is rendered inert by the past and has given up on the present, and so George has only the prospects of the future to consider. When each passing day is no better or worse than the next, George must ask himself: is the dim hope of tomorrow worth sticking around to see?
“A Single Man” is nothing if not beautifully composed. The fact that Tom Ford is a fashion designer truly shines through in this movie. The chic wardrobe, for example, or the jaunty posture with which Colin Firth walks, makes each scene distinctively hip and teeming with style. What is more, Ford adeptly applies his aesthetic eye to the cinematography of the movie in a way that is often understated but immensely expressive. Tight shots of an actor’s lips or eyes and gentle changes in the tone of the colors reveal more about the characters and the story than do any of the words.
Beyond the look of the movie, the acting is worthy of note. In particular, Colin Firth plays the part of a mourning yet dignified intellectual with the utmost ease. It is somehow easy to believe that Firth must really be George, if ever such a person existed.
If “A Single Man” has a flaw it is that the story lags. In fact, it is probably more accurate to describe this movie as a meditation on the emotional experience of loss rather than as a plot-driven narrative. There are certainly some interesting (and maybe even profound) ideas tossed about here and there, but it is clear that Ford’s primary goal is the achievement of a look or feel, and not the telling of a story or the communication of ideas.
Nonetheless, “A Single Man” is an interesting and gripping film that is truly a unique experience; it is a rather nice accomplishment for Ford in his first movie.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
"The Fantastic Mr. Fox"
By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News
Of the many animated films that have and will draw hoards of merry moviegoers this holiday season, Wes Anderson’s retro, stop-action movie called “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” may be the only animated film that is a must-see. Nearly every moment of this movie is breathtakingly beautiful and immensely entertaining.
By nature, Mr. Fox (George Clooney) is a daring scavenger—a voracious burglar—who moves quickly and acts on instinct. In other words, Mr. Fox is a wild animal. But like many things that are wild, Mr. Fox has a gentlemanly side to him as well. He is often thoughtful and reflective, and he cares deeply about the welfare of those he loves. So when Mrs. Fox (Meryl Streep) announces that she is pregnant, Mr. Fox agrees to give up his regular practice of raiding the chicken coops of nearby farms. Mr. Fox properly gentrifies; he becomes the kind of fox that is family-oriented. Despite the persisting glint of adventure in his eyes and occasional displays of untamed behavior, Mr. Fox pursues all of the humdrum virtues appropriate to the middle class: a new tree to call home, a stable economic portfolio (as handled by Badger (Bill Murray)), and a good education for his son, Ash (Jason Schwartzman). As is, Mr. Fox’s new life is just satisfying enough to keep him from reacting to the unrest and slightly neutered feeling that inevitably inheres in a wild animal that has been tamed.
However, when he learns of the local success of three ruthless and calculating tycoon farmers, Mr. Fox cannot resist the temptation to revisit the wild, liberated days of old. With an opossum named Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) as an accomplice, Mr. Fox hatches new schemes to thieve and plunder the ample stocks of the farmers. At first, all goes according to plan. The farmers are unable to protect their products, and the Fox family is richer and happier than ever.
The well conceived plans of Mr. Fox come to an end, though, as the farmers find the Fox home and lay siege to it. Mr. Fox and his family are only able to escape certain death by burrowing deep under ground, and there ensues a point/counterpoint between the furry of the farmers and the wiles of their animal opponents. Each time Mr. Fox and his family and friends (who are also objects of the farmers’ ire) seem to elude the clutches of their foes, new perils await them. In this battle between man and animal, Mr. Fox must learn to balance his instincts and his intelligence—his wildness and his tameness—in order to prove equal to the might and resources of the farmers.
“The Fantastic Mr. Fox” has the same beauty and flare as other of Wes Anderson’s masterstrokes (e.g. “The Royal Tenenbaums”, “The Darjeeling Limited”); however, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is somehow alone among Anderson’s films in its appeal with respect to a very wide range of viewers. While Anderson’s “The Royal Tenenbaums”, for example, is surely a work of art, it is also quirky, idiosyncratic—an acquired taste. “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is also quirky, but its charm is immediate, self-evident and irresistible for anyone save Ebenezer Scrooge. One reason for this universal appeal is the fact that Anderson turns what moviegoers have come to know as grotesque and ugly animation—that is, stop-action animation—into a dancing, vivacious presentation. The artistic execution of this movie approaches the very limits of the medium in which it was created.
What is perhaps even more impressive than the look of this movie is how well Anderson’s signature vernacular translates into the animal world. The language in all of Anderson’s films is characterized by quickness, understated honesty, and a certain existential profundity that has an absurd but unmistakably hilarious quality to it. This quality is somehow enhanced when instantiated in animal dolls. Just imagine a well-dressed and intelligent fox who, while looking deep into the eyes of another such fox, utters in a confessional tone, “The truth about me is, I’m a wild animal,” and then goes on to admit that he is still dealing with what exactly that means. In short, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is a masterpiece; the best movie of the season, if not the year.
Coastal View News
Of the many animated films that have and will draw hoards of merry moviegoers this holiday season, Wes Anderson’s retro, stop-action movie called “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” may be the only animated film that is a must-see. Nearly every moment of this movie is breathtakingly beautiful and immensely entertaining.
By nature, Mr. Fox (George Clooney) is a daring scavenger—a voracious burglar—who moves quickly and acts on instinct. In other words, Mr. Fox is a wild animal. But like many things that are wild, Mr. Fox has a gentlemanly side to him as well. He is often thoughtful and reflective, and he cares deeply about the welfare of those he loves. So when Mrs. Fox (Meryl Streep) announces that she is pregnant, Mr. Fox agrees to give up his regular practice of raiding the chicken coops of nearby farms. Mr. Fox properly gentrifies; he becomes the kind of fox that is family-oriented. Despite the persisting glint of adventure in his eyes and occasional displays of untamed behavior, Mr. Fox pursues all of the humdrum virtues appropriate to the middle class: a new tree to call home, a stable economic portfolio (as handled by Badger (Bill Murray)), and a good education for his son, Ash (Jason Schwartzman). As is, Mr. Fox’s new life is just satisfying enough to keep him from reacting to the unrest and slightly neutered feeling that inevitably inheres in a wild animal that has been tamed.
However, when he learns of the local success of three ruthless and calculating tycoon farmers, Mr. Fox cannot resist the temptation to revisit the wild, liberated days of old. With an opossum named Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) as an accomplice, Mr. Fox hatches new schemes to thieve and plunder the ample stocks of the farmers. At first, all goes according to plan. The farmers are unable to protect their products, and the Fox family is richer and happier than ever.
The well conceived plans of Mr. Fox come to an end, though, as the farmers find the Fox home and lay siege to it. Mr. Fox and his family are only able to escape certain death by burrowing deep under ground, and there ensues a point/counterpoint between the furry of the farmers and the wiles of their animal opponents. Each time Mr. Fox and his family and friends (who are also objects of the farmers’ ire) seem to elude the clutches of their foes, new perils await them. In this battle between man and animal, Mr. Fox must learn to balance his instincts and his intelligence—his wildness and his tameness—in order to prove equal to the might and resources of the farmers.
“The Fantastic Mr. Fox” has the same beauty and flare as other of Wes Anderson’s masterstrokes (e.g. “The Royal Tenenbaums”, “The Darjeeling Limited”); however, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is somehow alone among Anderson’s films in its appeal with respect to a very wide range of viewers. While Anderson’s “The Royal Tenenbaums”, for example, is surely a work of art, it is also quirky, idiosyncratic—an acquired taste. “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is also quirky, but its charm is immediate, self-evident and irresistible for anyone save Ebenezer Scrooge. One reason for this universal appeal is the fact that Anderson turns what moviegoers have come to know as grotesque and ugly animation—that is, stop-action animation—into a dancing, vivacious presentation. The artistic execution of this movie approaches the very limits of the medium in which it was created.
What is perhaps even more impressive than the look of this movie is how well Anderson’s signature vernacular translates into the animal world. The language in all of Anderson’s films is characterized by quickness, understated honesty, and a certain existential profundity that has an absurd but unmistakably hilarious quality to it. This quality is somehow enhanced when instantiated in animal dolls. Just imagine a well-dressed and intelligent fox who, while looking deep into the eyes of another such fox, utters in a confessional tone, “The truth about me is, I’m a wild animal,” and then goes on to admit that he is still dealing with what exactly that means. In short, “The Fantastic Mr. Fox” is a masterpiece; the best movie of the season, if not the year.
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