The Grey

I can think of few working film makers I am as simultaneously aware of and ambivalent toward as Joe Carnahan. I have never seen Narc, nor do I feel compelled to do so despite the generous kudos it has accumulated in some circles. Smoking Aces was stylish and intermittently entertaining, but primarily crude and pointless. The A-Team was just plain pointless, no qualifiers necessary. So, to be blunt, nothing about the man's oeuvre does much of anything for me. Liam Neeson however, has long been a favorite. Dating back to Krull and the Mission, but Darkman was what cemented his leading man persona for me. Wounded and soulful, yet imposing as hell and charming when he wants to be. Of more dynamic and multi talented leading men, there are few.

So, when I first saw the trailers for The Grey, I dismissed Carnahan's involvement as nothing more than apparent affinity developed between him and Neeson during production of The A-Team. Now I love a good man Vs. nature film, especially the sort that juxtaposes the two as iconic, existential rivals. Hope and eventuality. Faith and stone cold reality. The trailers and promotional materials did a fine job conveying this deadly serious thematic component as well as the striking, artistic element at play. I was prepared for that and avidly awaiting the challenging complexity inherent to the non commercial proposition watching tired, bloodied men mauled by wild animals and succumbing to the elements entails. On that level, the film succeeds wildly.

It is gorgeously shot, breathtaking even. I didn't know Carnahan had that sort of an eye. An eye that could distill every fascinating facet of his timeless story into the indelible, unforgettable image of a single file line of men struggling through a merciless blizzard with infinite whiteness swallowing them on all sides. The plane crash that strands them in this wasteland is as impressive as any I've yet seen conveyed on film, all the more impressive for how viscerally realized it is on such a clearly minuscule budget. Impeccable sound design and photography on all fronts coming together with assured direction and superlative performances to present a technical marvel of a film that manages to explore the weighty issues of faith, life and death. Aside from some minor quibbles with elastic notions of realism, most everything about this meat and potatoes effort worked for me.

There Be Spoilers Here:

Here's the problem. The aforementioned promotional material hinged largely on footage of Neeson strapping broken mini-liquor bottles to his knuckles with electrical tape and charging into the fray against a behemoth alpha male wolf to do bloody, chaotic battle. The way this footage was edited and scored implicitly promises the viewer that they will see the other side of that arresting notion once they plunk down their hard earned cash. The Grey does a beautiful job bringing you to this moment, then smash cuts to black at the exact moment the trailer did. Roll credits. As the scene was building, I began to get a queasy feeling this was going to be the case, but when it actually came to pass, I was shocked at how disappointed and frustrated I was. I (and clearly, vocally the audience I saw it with) felt betrayed and more than a little cheated. The movie the internet sold to me as Liam Neeson: Wolf Puncher gave me a little more of what I hoped was going to be there than I thought it would and absolutely nothing of what I was certain would be there.

I read here and there some people comparing this phenomena to the woman suing Drive for a misleading trailer. I don't buy that. I'm an intelligent film goer who educates himself before buying a ticket. I knew what I was getting into with Drive and felt the trailer effectively portrayed the film as arty, surreal and hyper violent. I've also read people saying that if you wanted to see that fight, then you are an idiot. That it would have been stupid and looked ridiculous. With this, I also disagree. The Grey is a story of a man grappling with his will to live and I desperately wanted to see him put everything he had into that fight once he made the decision to, against all odds and with no reason or faith, not go quietly into that night. If the film makers couldn't have figured a way to present this moment the entire film had been building to without it being laughable, then they just weren't trying hard enough.

While I do disagree with Carnahan's decision to not show that fight, I respect his right to make that choice. He is an artist, this film forcefully confirms that, and this film is indeed an important piece of art. Not necessarily for the story, performances or technical merits, all of which are solid and in some cases well above par, but for the strong reactions and lively discussion it has engendered among film fans. It has been of great interest to me to read the fallout today and see separate camps spring up on either side of the debate. So many nuanced positions being taken and passionately argued. It is irrelevant whether or not any is more right than the other. The meaningful thing is that this film has people talking, thinking and discussing a piece of cinematic art. Not to nitpick how faithful it was to some superhero's convoluted origin story or whether the two leads had an off screen liaison that destroyed one of their marriages. Nothing so trivial. The discussion is about what these characters lives and deaths meant and how it resonated or didn't with each individual. This film has moved people and made them contemplate their mortality, their mettle and what they love most and hold most dear. It is a somber, lofty exploration of weighty issues and should be regarded accordingly.

I appreciate a film that dares to be this bleak and still somehow reaches the multiplex. It was magnificent to see this on a huge screen with pristine projection and eardrum decimating sound. It upset me, it infuriated me, I laughed, I cried, I nodded approvingly at Neeson's bad ass antics. I was moved and felt strongly about it. That it has had this effect on most is undeniable and should be acknowledged. Even if it didn't play out exactly as some of us might have preferred, we should be grateful it has inspired thought and discussion that has engaged both the head and the heart.

Shloggs Speaks: Snyder Edition!

I joined my good friend Axl over at Profondo Cinema to discuss the filmography of Zach Snyder. I've come around to being quite an enthusiastic supporter of the much maligned film maker and appreciated being afforded the opportunity to rebut his naysayers and sing his praises. As always, check out Profondo's excellent back catalog of shows, they are the best in the business!

The Abyss Stares Back

After the resounding success of Batman Begins, Nolan made The Prestige. The story of two duelling, driven magicians in turn of the century England is as delightfully poncy as it is distressingly grim and choked with suffocating gravitas. With the possible exceptions of Pesci and DeNiro in Raging Bull, Goodfella's and Casino, The Prestige features the greatest piece of apropos dual lead casting in cinematic history. Hugh Jackman as Angier, the flashy, charming showman prone to leaning on his overwhelming stage presence to cover up his sloppy craft and Christian Bale as Borden, the humorless technique machine whose only interest is being the best, no matter the cost to his personal life or physical safety. To be entirely clear up front, there is absolutely nothing about this film I don't unreservedly adore. The period costuming, the convoluted joint journal reading narration deception device, the stately photography, the rumbling, portentous score. This film has an embarrassing wealth of everything that technically makes a movie great, but it's the universally pitch perfect performances that breathe life into this handsome construct, filling its lungs, causing its chest to rise.

Hugh Jackman is a treat as Wolverine and all, but I'd never considered him a serious actor until seeing this. He's classic Hollywood movie star huge in this with charisma off the charts. When he first performs his Tesla machine assisted Transported Man in front of an audience and the spotlight hits him on the balcony, my breath was literally taken away in the movie theater. He gets to hit some tortured, devious notes though as well, and he pulls them off nicely. Bale is brilliant as usual, only more so somehow. His intensity and sincerity in this film is nearly unmatched. As much as The Machinist, The Fighter and American Psycho draw (deserved) attention with their extremity, I find myself most engrossed with his quiet, complicated work in this. You also have nice turns by Caine, Serkis and Johannsen, but David Bowie really shakes things up as an aloof, bizarre Nikola Tesla.

All these great actors coupled with the Nolan brothers absorbing screenplay and Christopher's peerless directorial chops add up to an intellectually stimulating and heartfelt film. Made for roughly one fourth of the Batman Begins price tag, it still managed to turn a decent profit and gave Nolan the air clearing break he needed to gather his forces to undertake what would become the most important film of his career thus far and one of the most quintessential films of a remarkably turbulent decade.

George Bush took his re-election in 2004 as a message from the American voters to not only "stay the course", but to dramatically escalate his entrenched position of unilateral decision making in regard to how to wage his "war on terror". The years between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight bore shocked witness to a horrifying insurgency, warrantless wiretapping, Abu Ghraib, Muqtada Al Sadr and a million other atrocities ranging from rampant corporate thievery to no bid Government contract swindles to crazed lone gunmen like Cho Seung Hui at home. No matter your political or religious beliefs, it was a tumultuous, terrifying time with death at every corner, torture on every ones mind and Orwellian word crimes constituting the bile at the back of the collective American throat. Christopher Nolan took a 70 year old archetype and two of his most popular villains, dusted them off and crafted an epic crime saga that synthesized our National guilt and outrage.

The Dark Knight is simply put, a staggering work. It is a meticulously composed, cathartic howl. It effectively exorcised and explored the complicated issues surrounding our handling of the Iraq war. It admits the wrongdoings, but does its best to explain the rationale behind these Bush, Cheney, Rumsfield et. al stand ins who imagine themselves trying to "be decent men in an indecent time". It grapples with the notion that a man who dresses up as a bat and enacts vigilante justice is no different than a political leader who makes rash decisions based on fear and motivated by revenge. Ledger's Joker is a marvelous proxy for the inexplicable terrorist mindset. An approach whose motivation is to destabilize and demoralize as opposed to intimidate and profitably integrate. There is a fascinating article here that explains the infinite parallels between The Dark Knight and the global nightmare that inspired it. I highly recommend reading it.

This is all well and good for pedants such as myself, but the film certainly would not have had the unprecedented hold on the popular culture mindset it has if it wasn't also entertainment of the highest order. Nolan mastered the IMAX camera system with this and defined what an event film should be for the foreseeable future. He handles the action scenes more deftly and impressively than ever, the resolution and size of the IMAX screen far surpassing the immersive possibilities of 3-D. Zimmer's score is a monumental masterpiece the likes of which rarely grace big budget superhero fare. The Dark Knight also thankfully continues Nolan's endearing quirk of left field casting, giving the likes of Michael Jai White, Eric Roberts, Anthony Michael Hall and Tony "Tiny Zeus" Lister the chance to rub elbows with the A-listers, much to the audience's benefit.

Aaron "think about the future" Eckhart doesn't get nearly the credit he deserves for why The Dark Knight works so well. His charm and square jawed all American good looks are almost begging to be twisted beyond recognition in the unforgiving Gotham Nolan has fashioned and he plays that fall from grace beautifully. His tragic anger and horrific derangement an uncomfortable mirror held up to post invasion Americas polluted soul. It is a film about how we became monsters in the pursuit of a noble ideal and Aaron Eckhart's harrowing performance wholly embodies that dispiriting transition. It is a dark, deeply strange film with a self loathing, suicidal bent. However, a ray of hope pokes through toward the end, even if the Joker gleefully reminds us that such flights of fancy are short lived and soon shot down. When my grandchildren are studying 9/11 and the Iraq war in middle school social studies and are pointed my way for info on a report they're assigned to do, I will sit them down and show them The Dark Knight. It is the definitive punctuation mark on one of the uglier sentences we as a country have ever gave utterance.

I've written a great deal on Inception already, so I will bring this to a close. The future is bright indeed for Christopher Nolan and those of us who consider him to be a guiding light in big studio film making. He's still quite young and his final chapter in the Batman saga is sure to be the biggest film released this year. My anticipation is holding at a fever pitch and I don't know how I'm going to make it another seven months. All footage and stills released thus far have been astonishing to my eyes, the trick now is to avoid all further spoilerific media. He's helping out on the story and production end for Snyder's Superman and I can think of no more perfect pairing. Whatever comes after all that is up in the air. Nolan's maturation has been principled and his hand has remained steady and true. Unlike in the worlds his films often depict, the future looks bright and promising.

Elegant Perspective Dissonance

Christopher Nolan is one of my favorite working directors alongside Zach Snyder, David Fincher, Rob Zombie and Shinya Tsukamoto. Of all those, he undoubtedly reaches the largest audience and arguably makes the most important and accomplished films. He's also the youngest of the lot, a preternaturally gifted storyteller possessing a reserved demeanor and quiet, patient intelligence. I first became aware of him in the Spring of 2001 when, after reading many positive reviews, decided to give a little low budget film called Memento a shot.

The end of the 90's were a heady time as far as narrative film was concerned. Perhaps it was simply a nagging case of collective pre-millennial tension, but there was a veritable glut of movies dealing with pulling the covers back on our notions of so called reality. Existenz, Dark City, The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor most notably were pushing the concept of toying with the audience's perception of reality to the forefront. Meanwhile, meta forerunners The Blair Witch Project, The Last Broadcast and of course Scream were more preoccupied with creating a universe in which the audience and the film makers are cognizant of one another with the expectations of the former informing the machinations of the latter. Hellbent on forcing artist, art and audience to acknowledge one another in a referentially reciprocal vanity mirror of congratulatory self awareness.

Memento cuts through all of that baggage, impossibly managing to challenge our cinematic mental acuity despite the surfeit of exercise these muscles had received for the previous five years. Hinging on an outrageously charming and painfully wounded performance from the always fascinating Guy Pearce (how I wish he and Nolan would work together again!), Memento is every bit the revelation 10 years on as it was upon its initial release. So crafty and clever and smartly satisfying, a perfect little puzzle box that transcends its central gimmick to somehow become an emotionally potent commentary on the lies we tell ourselves to justify our existence. The Nolan look is cemented here, that high definition warmness illuminating his confident camera movement and carefully considered angles. His inaugural partnership with cinematographer Wally Pfister hereon enters the pantheon of perfect collaborations alongside Carpenter and Cundey, Coen and Deakins, Hooper and Pearl. But, most importantly, the film is a wealth of story, script and performances. Memento might not have set the box office ablaze, but it served its purpose as the calling card for a major voice, strike that, THE major voice in popular cinema for the next decade and perhaps beyond.

His sophomore effort Insomnia took a while to get its hooks in me. After a structural atom bomb the likes of Memento, I was expecting to be blindsided again by his follow up. Thankfully, he opted to make his career about consistently crafting great films instead of constantly topping his latest magic trick (look how well that worked out for M.Night). Insomnia returns us to the themes of guilt and confused perception clouding our understanding of certain unpleasant realities. Al Pacino turns in work every bit the equal to anything in his pantheon and Robin Williams matches him note for note, only on a different instrument. The fog drenched pursuit of an unidentified suspect is a standout sequence in Nolan's career, the marriage of visual and thematic concerns personifying the dichotomy of the elegant and the dissonant I referred to in this piece's title. It is Nolan's least praised work, but that makes it all the more pleasing when you allow it to sneak up on you again.

Batman Begins introduced Nolan to the masses and to the world of big budget film. An improbably perfect pairing that for once benefited both audience and artist. Nolan's stab at the superhero genre not only legitimized such fare, it elevated it to absolute social relevance. Aside from some shaky handling of CGI (admittedly not his forte and he's largely abandoned it since) and spare silly moments done out of concession to the characters legacy (I'm Batman, anyone?), Batman Begins is a dramatically propulsive resuscitation. A grim, Gothic affair, both believable and more muscular than its numerous predecessors. Nolan found his muse in Christian Bale, who despite his unfortunate Terminator debacle, remains the greatest actor of his generation. This is his first time working with composer Hans Zimmer whose gargantuan brass and melancholy melodies fit Nolan's work like an expensive designer leather glove. The film was a huge success, artistically and commercially. It had the effect of a blank check being written for Nolan and he established a one for me, one for them relationship with the studios.

Coming up next: How that relationship panned out.

Winter Break Movie Meltdown Part Two

My family always gets me movies for Christmas, so this season I was showered with a wealth of Bluray goodness. While I haven't watched my Copland, Casino or Pandorum discs, I can attest to loving those films and am looking forward to giving them a spin in the near future. I will now dig into the gifts I did watch and the films I was otherwise inspired to revisit.

I've often mentioned my Father's monumental impact on me as an enthusiast of film. There are many motion pictures he (and my Mother) took me to growing up that sowed the seeds of cinematic appreciation, but few effected the evolution of my understanding of the art form like the early Coen Brother's masterpieces Miller's Crossing and Barton Fink. I mean seriously, how cool are parents that not only were aware of these films, but would take their budding cinephile son to see them in the theater? So, to receive the Coen Brothers Bluray box from them was a sort of perfect poetic punctuation. I tore into the films, watching Blood Simple first, then Raising Arizona followed by Miller's Crossing. Blood Simple is the Coen film I'm least familiar with and was the most welcome re-watch. It's astonishing how perfect they were right out of the gate, their singular perspective and slightly off sensibility showing through budget limitations to approximate a potently timeless 1980's Texas Neo-Noir. Raising Arizona is always welcome, if a little more on their slapdash, screwball side. The Nicholas Cage dream narration coda sneaks up on me every time, making me misty with its mannered, yet meaningful message of hope.

Miller's Crossing is a film so magnificent I can scarcely comprehend it. The witty banter and period specific turns of phrase that liberally season its superlative screenplay never fail to plaster a smile on my face. Talk about a world you want to get lost in! The clothes, the hairstyle's, the hats, the Tommy-guns, the speakeasy's. Of course everybody is marvelous in it, but I need to single out J.E. Freeman as the Dane. One of the great villainous performances ever and one that doesn't get talked about nearly enough. Its beautifully realized evocation of the roaring 20's gives way gorgeously to the ghostly 1940's Hollywood of Barton Fink, my favorite Coen Brothers film. A thoughtful, melancholy meditation on the correlation between creative types and the common man, not to mention the insoluble dichotomy of art and commerce, Barton Fink is the summation of the Coen's genuine love of the foibles of the Hollywood studio system and their seeming inability to work within it. It's a film of bottomless sadness and boundless hilarity. It's the Coen's stab at a David Lynch style slow burn nightmare in which they've grafted their clever comedic sensibilities onto a truly horrific descent into despair, isolation and madness. The definition of essential.

This Coen festival occasioned me to revisit A Serious Man, their most curiously under rated effort. I don't know what it was, but this viewing floored me and I found myself in stitches far more than any Big Lebowski screening. This might be the damn funniest film in their career. I can think of few moments in their filmography more indicative of the skewed comedic perspective of Joel and Ethan Coen than the gentleman grunting "Jesus Christ" while struggling to hold aloft the gigantic scroll during the films climactic Torah portion sequence. It's the faintest and most fleeting of moments, but one so indelibly intertwined with the Coen's distanced, bemused observation of the human race they are nominally members of.

The Dark Knight Rises prologue whetted my appetite for the apocalyptic elegance of Christopher Nolan's work, so I have been fervently occupied in revisiting Insomnia, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight and Inception. Perhaps people were so blindsided by the inventiveness of Memento, they were predisposed to be unimpressed by Insomnia, his follow up effort. The truth is, it is an absolute masterpiece every bit on the level with any other of his works. Its slippery, strung out morals serve as the springboard for one of Pacino's finest performances. Wally Pfister's cinematography impossibly manages to be both frigidly cold and invitingly warm, blindingly bright and oppressively dark. Thesis papers could be written on the fog drenched shootout that kick starts the narrative alone.

Batman Begins is vastly better than I remembered it being. It's impressively propulsive early on in how it artfully, efficiently deals with doling out the expected origin story all the while setting the stage for an intriguingly dark and novel vision of Gotham, its inhabitants and the titans battling for its soul. Nolan may be meticulous, but the Batman films have brought out his playful, pulpy side with unexpected casting choices and quirky, occasionally clunky dialogue. Cillian Murphy is marvelously droll as The Scarecrow and Tom Wilkinson is a hoot as Falcone. I love how Nolan has given nearly every major role in this most American of all series to a Brit. The Dark Knight holds up to the hype and may well end up being one of the defining films of the decade alongside There Will Be Blood, No Country For Old Men and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. It's the final statement on our morally and legally shaky reaction to the terror attacks of 9/11 and the resulting escalation our overzealous efforts gave horrible life to. Ledger's Joker is iconic and of infinite importance with or without the baggage of his death. My guess is that there was an element of fate at play in that unfortunate turn of events, the burden of such staggering relevance is often a costly one.

Inception holds up very well and I am ceaselessly grateful that we have a director as young and talented as Nolan turning out one masterpiece after another, like clockwork every couple of years. Ditto the Coen Brothers. I feel that 2012 will be a high water mark for cinema along the lines of 2007 and I look forward to documenting for posterity and potential future recrimination all that transpires. Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!