Cloud Atlas

It goes to show you how malleable a thing expectation can be, especially when it comes to film.  I recently bemoaned being compelled to see Cloud Atlas for the people involved because I was certain I would find its plaintive treatise on the interconnectedness of mankind to be too cloying and syrupy.  Two viewings later, never would I have imagined I would be so taken by the movie, altered even.  My very soul feels energized, sizzling with a revitalized love for cinema, for art, for music, for mankind, for the very planet I live on.  I feel genuinely excited for the future of film.  I feel like I want to be a more open minded and loving person.  Cloud Atlas is such a good film, it's inspired me to strive to become a better human being. 

I don't feel the need (as I often do with films I fall so deeply in love with) to rebut the many arguments of its detractors.  It's just that wonderful to me.  The complaints others have expressed simply strike me as more examples of its innumerable strengths.  I love that it wears its heart on its sleeve and plainly states its earnest, altruistic themes without a hint of irony.  I adore its total lack of subterfuge, the up front manner it extols its humanist message.  The actors donning outrageous make-ups and essaying multiple characters is not distracting to me in the least, nor do I find anything remotely problematic about the race and gender bending.  It's all wholly liberating and ingeniously theatrical, making the film riotously playful and unexpectedly emotionally resonant.  Simply put, the cumulative effect of the film absolutely devastated me.  I was reduced to tears on multiple occasions both viewings and have been able to think of nothing else since first laying eyes on it. 

The manner in which Cloud Atlas is narratively constructed is no mere gimmick or coy exercise.  On the contrary, it's emblematic of a necessary evolution in the language of cinematic storytelling.  This is where movies need to go.  As usual, the Wachowski's are about 15 years ahead of the curve.  Our brains are able to process more information now than ever and desire to be challenged with making thematic connections between (seemingly) disparate subject matter.  Hollywood boils that down to a lot of loud music, flashy effects and quick cuts.  The Wachowski's and Tykwer have presented us with a new template for artistic expression through cinema.  This isn't stories being told out of chronological order or backwards or any such commonplace narrative obfuscation.  This is multiple stories across multiple times, being told simultaneously.  Essentially, we the audience, are gifted with the ability to see the world how Dr. Manhattan does and it is exhilarating. 

The way that themes, actors, ideas, phrases, relationships and music ebb, flow, recur and course through this film as lifeblood undulating through endless tributaries is like nothing I've ever seen.  A story taking place in 2144 neo-Seoul will find it's emotional payoff in 1849 San Francisco.  A throwaway joke in 2012 London will then become a shattering statement of personal conviction in said future.  The primary cast is uniformly remarkable and given a creative opportunity previously unimaginable.  The fashion this film affords the actors to explore recurring archetypes and human interaction is so audaciously conceived and magnificently executed, I can scarcely believe it was pulled off.  We live in an era where the prevailing logic would be to motion capture the performances and use digital tools to paint over everything, entirely stripping the human element from the equation.  Tykwer and the Wachowski's wisely have opted to instead employ involved make-ups and retain the humanity of the performance.  The believability of this sprawling world hinges on its characters interaction.  For all the technical bluster and innovation of the picture, at its core beats a human heart.   Proudly, enthusiastically and tangibly.

As I previously stated, all the performances are phenomenal, but I'd like to single out a few that profoundly affected me.  Jim Broadbent is a revelation in this.  From the casual malice of the salty sea captain to the vain desperation of Vyvian Ayers to the the hilarious hyperbole of poor old Timothy Cavendish, he's never short of magnetic and often astonishing.  Just watching his eyes alone in any given scene can be an intimidating master class in character construction.  Take special note of his wistful revelry at the train station.  What a beautiful moment.  The triumphant escape of him and his cohorts from Aurora house is the most uplifting moment I've seen in a film in years thanks largely to his palpable ebullience.

Hugo Weaving is the best there is at playing evil white men and good god does he turn it up to 11 in this.  He even throws in a woman with the delicious Nurse Noakes.  His vocal talent is so prodigious that he convincingly portrays her feminine voice despite possessing such a recognizable, rumbling baritone.    Bill Smoke is as cold and despicable as a man can get, but it's his Old Georgie I found most captivating.  An invention of pure menace, preying upon the beleaguered Zachary, hounding him without reprieve.  The demon whispering bad thoughts into mankind's ear and twisting its will to his wicked whims.  I just could not get enough of this character and every time he was onscreen, I could feel my breath being stolen away as I sat, rapt with attention yet terrified all the same.  What a creation!  The way he's shot and framed is so perfect, I could go on for days celebrating it. 

Lastly: Apparently High Grant is a fucking genius and I'm just finding this out now?  He gives Weaving a run for his money with the evil white man schtick here.  The films most interesting juxtaposition in my eyes is the one between his corporate predators of the past and modern world and the cannibalistic tribe leader of the ruined future.  It seems a logical extension of the mindset, but to see it cast in such extreme relief is incredible and awful to behold.  I never thought I'd type these words, but, Hugh Grant is flat out amazing in this film. 

Of course Hanks is a treat and Halle Berry is surprisingly good.  The emotional resonance of the film lies however with the romantic pairings of Jim Sturgess and Doona Bae, Ben Whishaw and James Darcy.  Their relationships are beautifully rendered and lovingly realized.  As I said, everybody is great in this and all offer very specific and equally necessary things.  Special mention also needs be made of the score, which I highly recommend picking up to help support the film.  It's simply transcendent and impossibly evocative of the movie and its myriad motifs and emotions, truly great stuff. 

Cloud Atlas is something very special to me, a lifelong love affair that has just begun.  Its box office failure is certainly dispiriting, but I'm frankly shocked something so bizarre and byzantine made it to the multiplex in the first place.  I am eternally grateful I was able to see this on a huge screen with fantastic sound.  I implore anyone reading this who hasn't seen the film to give it a chance, and those who've seen it, to patronize it again.  It opens up immeasurably on second viewing, becoming much more understandable in regards to both its boundary exploding structure and its intermittently obtuse linguistics.  There's enough, heart, warmth, humor, beauty, ugliness, horror, desolation and hope in Cloud Atlas for 10 films.  It's one of those rare movies that can stake an honest claim to "having it all".

Silent Hill Revelation 3D

Silent Hill Revelation 3D is a difficult film to discuss.  On the one hand, it's so bewilderingly incompetent that I almost feel compelled to recommend taking a gander at the train wreck, but on the other, it's so boring I'd have to say just don't bother.  This is a film so brain dead, it can't even be accused of insulting the intelligence of its audience, for it seems to exist in a world bereft of even the concept of intelligence. I'm a fairly big fan of the stylish, moody and violently grim original film, so I was quite excited when I heard there was a sequel on the way.  Even more so when I saw so many names from the first film attached. 

Unfortunately, it became evident about 5 minutes in this was a disastrous fiasco and the director had no idea how to construct a passable scene, let alone a scare.  The possibility of a mood being evoked was entirely out of the question.  As the film wore on and ground me down, it became clear the returning cast were glorified cameo's at best.  I'd be shocked if Radha Mitchell's scene required more than half a day in front of a green screen to shoot.  Carrie Ann Moss, Martin Donavan and Malcom McDowell also show up to degrade their resumes handily, slumming to a degree I wouldn't imagine necessary for them. 

Early on, the film barrels through exposition in such a boldly obvious manner, it almost seems to be trying to draw attention to how wretched a job it does bringing us up to speed.  It largely ignores the artful, esoteric ending of the original and keeps on making shit up as it goes.  The film never seems to decide what exactly is going on, who the threat is, what the rules of its world are or why we should care about the proceedings.  Scenes bleed into one another with no discernible rhyme or reason, things are brought up that seem important, then are never mentioned again.  The movie lurches about like a confused drunk, unsure of where it's going and unable to comprehend where it's been. 

 I saw this in a sparsely attended noon screening and the discomfiture in the theater was palpable.  There was a collective embarrassment not only with ourselves for having purchased a ticket to this shoddy groaner, but for the film itself.  It was like watching a contestant warble out of tune on American Idol, oblivious to how amateurish their performance is.  We all sat there, buttocks clenched, waiting impatiently for a gong that took ninety five minutes to be sounded.  Once the credits mercifully began to roll, we all shrugged and tried to avoid eye contact as we silently filed out.  That's all I have to say about Silent Hill Revelations 3D

Looking Ahead To Fall And Winter

I did something similar with a summer forecast back in late April and it's interesting to look back through that anticipatory write-up and see how the line up fared.  I would say that Prometheus has ended up being my favorite film of the summer for it's grandeur, technical brilliance and visceral melding of religious philosophical questions with revolting genetic science.  Battleship is easily the most reprehensible movie I watched.  A cinematic experience so tepid and crass, I've done my utmost to blot it from memory.  Who could have foreseen the tragedy that unexpectedly accompanied The Dark Knight Rises and how it would so negatively affect the films reception?  I'll have to wait a while and give that film some distance from the unconscionable actions of a crazed gunman and the predatory vitriol from short sighted critics before I close the book on my feelings toward it. 

September and October have had their share of highs and lows as well, with The Master emerging as one for the ages, a crude, heartfelt gem from a visionary film maker exploring new ground.  Looper on the other hand is a plate of re-heated shit.  A shallow, hipsters daydream of what things like love and responsibility mean filtered through a hodgepodge of pilfered aesthetic choices.  Battleship is garbage, but at least everybody can agree on that.  Looper is the most inexplicably celebrated film I've seen in my lifetime.  I just can not understand the reception it has had among otherwise sane film scribes.  Oh well, perhaps a year from now, I'll begrudgingly revisit it and decide it's a masterpiece.  I'm pretty stupid like that.  Let's begin, bearing in mind I'm only discussing the films I intend to see, not every title on the release docket. 

OCTOBER
Rounding out the last week of October, we have Silent Hill Revelations 3D and Cloud Atlas.  To be honest, despite the involvement of the Wachowski's and Tom Tykwer (whose Perfume I consider a masterpiece) and a slew of actors I enjoy, I am not looking forward to Cloud Atlas.  It looks windy and pretentious and overwrought beyond belief.  It appears to be boring as well, and with a 2 and a half hour run time, could turn into a real Bataan death march of a theatrical experience.  After the triumph of Speed Racer, I should have learned to implicitly trust the Wachowski's, but something about this whole venture seems off to me.  We shall see.  Silent Hill Revelations looks like crazy horror fun just in time to salvage an anemic Halloween season.  An over-designed nightmare of hellscapes and gimicky 3D could be just the thing to sate my cheesy impulses before awards season kicks into high gear. 

NOVEMBER
The Man With The Iron Fists could be amusing, but I'm betting it turns out to be a self indulgent train wreck.  I think it will be robbed of most of its impact by the cheap CGI and fakey blood flying all over the place.  Still, Russel Crowe camping it up should be a treat and it will likely not be boring.  Based on the absolutely stunning imagery in the trailer, Skyfall is my most anticipated film of the month.  I'm sold on the Deakins cinematography alone, but Mendes behind the camera is an intriguing prospect and Craig's craggy visage should be a marvel to stare at on the IMAX screen.  The trailers for Lincoln have intrigued me with their unashamedly old fashioned appearance and somber, elegiac tone.  That cast is remarkable as well, even though goddamn JGL just had to slip in there.  After being introduced to Joe Wright with Hannah, I'm dying to see Anna Karenina.  Although my total disinterest in the cast and story could find me regretting that enthusiasm.  

What can I say, I can't help but want to catch the last Twilight film in the theaters.  The last entry was unforgivably awful, but so was the second to last Potter film.  By that template, they should be throwing all the action in the last film and it will be a hoot.  These brain dead, leaden melodramas have their place in both film and pop culture history and I strangely find it necessary to be there for the finale.  Life of Pi will be interesting and gorgeous to look at, but Killing Them Softly is so firmly entrenched in my wheelhouse it's ridiculous.  Dominik's Chopper and The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford are two magnificently masculine pieces of art and KTS promises to more of the same.  Stylish, brutal and full of trenchant political commentary, exactly the kind of film that I can't get enough of.  Plus, Pitt looks painfully cool and Gandolfini is bringing the heavy breathing menace, so what more do you need to know? 

DECEMBER
I mean, of course we'll all go see The Hobbit, but are any of us honestly looking forward to it?  It looks silly and superfluous to me.  A victory lap cash grab and most depressingly, a waste of Jackson's time.  I'd much rather see him bring us the splatter film to end all splatter films, not a bunch of goofy-ass dwarves breaking wind and bonking their heads.  I always enjoy Cruise's intensity in a tough guy role, so Jack Reacher will likely deliver, although the dialogue in the trailer is laughingly pedestrian.  So much so it feels more like a spoof of an action movie more than the real deal.  Zero Dark Thirty should be a wonderfully ghoulish time at the theaters, callously exploiting our state sanctioned revenge murder of Osama Bin Laden.  I'm not a fan of Bigelow whatsoever, so I'm strictly showing up to satisfy my morbid rubbernecker impulses.

Christmas Day brings us my two most anticipated films left in the year, Django Unchained and Les Miserables.  After spectacularly rebounding from Death Proof with Inglorious Basterds, I've learned to never count QT out.  I'm a little leery of Django's subject matter, fearing it may bring out some of Tarantino's nasty-for-nastiness'-sake tendencies.  Hopefully he finds a way to make the material sing without it being a miserable wallow in rape scenes and N-words.  I saw Les Miserables on the stage last year and found it to be a gorgeous production with beautiful melodies supporting the heartbreaking narrative.  This is sure to be an emotional powerhouse of a film and if the trailer is any indication, Hooper has captured the tone perfectly in the translation from the stage. I suspect Jackman will devastate audiences as Valjean.  It's the role he was born to play in my humble opinion.  I believe Hathaway and Crowe will manage not to embarrass themselves as well, so suffice to say, this will be an excellent holiday season at the theater.   

On Misanthropy And Recent Movies

In an attempt to disconnect myself from the ravening, insatiable maw of the  online-film-community, I've opted to drop off of twitter and several message boards.  I even let the blog go dark for awhile, hoping to realign my perception of exactly what the hell it is I'm doing with this ridiculous thing.  Of late, I'm becoming unreasonably upset with the prevailing group-think/predictable consensus opinions toward many films and actors that is radically divergent from my own.  I'm also starting to feel stressed out by the pressure to immediately cement my thoughts on recently viewed movies.  I'll freely admit that my perceived content production standards were entirely a figment of my internet addled brain and in no way indicative of any demonstrably sizable interest in my writing.  It's distressingly easy to get wrapped up in this malarkey and delude yourself into thinking you're some sort of arbiter of taste or sought-after cinematic pundit.  The bottom line is, I was having much difficulty enjoying films as I was spending the entire run-time thinking what I was going to write about them.

I have something of a neurotic, obsessive personality.  If you need concrete evidence of my unfortunate psychological peccadilloes look no further than me working out so hard 14 months ago I literally killed myself .  I was beginning to feel a wearying fatigue toward film appreciation and chose to disentangle myself from the absurd notion of being a critic who had to expand his brand.  I fear I got away from the stated intent of this blog, which was to express myself creatively through writing about and dissecting film from the vantage point of an enthusiastic admirer of the medium.  So, in the interests of rediscovering my former zeal, I'm doing away with the shilling and the tireless efforts to conform to a recognizable format or generate content according to a self-imposed timeline.  I won't be linking this stuff anywhere, so those of you who check regularly (Hi Dad!) and continue to read, I thank you and hope you enjoy.  Now, on with the neurotic irritations and recent movie musings.

I'd like to begin in earnest by addressing the aforementioned "consensus opinions" that have so rankled me of late.  They are varied and many, but all seem to have their genesis in the snotty reception The Dark Knight Rises and Prometheus received earlier this summer from the bulk of critics and vocal online blowhards.  The tiresome, grating pontificating and nitpicking that accompanied their release and subsequent theatrical runs has been about more than I can take.  These are two visually resplendent films replete with subtext and meaning.  They have emotionally powerful moments, unforgettable performances and a reverent approach to old school film making.  They revel in the tried and true approach of realizing astonishing imagery with gargantuan sets, jaw dropping practical effects and stuntwork, and in the case of TDKR, even going so far as to assemble thousands of extras to make its climax appropriately and authentically epic.  Yet people couldn't stop finding things to complain about for both films.  I'm fine with folks pointing out an inconsistency here and there, but to categorically label these films as failures and accuse their directors of incompetence or "phoning it in" is inexcusable coming from purported "film fans".  The artistry on display and sheer entertainment in these two films vastly exceeds what we've come to expect from summer blockbusters and they should be judged accordingly.

It's all the more upsetting considering how these same people unashamedly fawned over and prostrated themselves before The Avengers.  The Avengers is a lot of fun and a clever, diverting amusement, but ultimately has no lasting impact.  It's essentially a bunch of movie stars smirking and delivering (again, very clever) one liners until the computer graphics rendering crew takes over.  It's a weightless, frothy affair, entirely devoid of stakes, drama or emotion.  It never bothered to create a world outside its brightly attired superhero's, so when the clearly fake city is being destroyed by a clearly fake and totally nondescript alien menace, it's awfully hard to care.  You just let your jaw go slack and smile numbly as all the cartoons briskly fly about.  Marvel's The Avengers was about as callous as studio franchise building gets.  Sure, it was fun and entertaining, but nothing more.  It leaves no impact and has no cultural or artistic relevance other than to set up a slew of sequels. Ridley Scott and Christopher Nolan were telling huge, important stories that meant the world to them and investing the type of effort and care rarely seen in big budget film making and they were mercilessly ridiculed and reviled for it.   Watching the online film-nerd contingency ruthlessly tear into those films made me feel like Morgan Freeman in Se7en when he said, "I don't understand this place anymore."

Speaking of not understanding things, 2012 was the year that bore witness to the ascendancy of 2 of the lamest "movie stars" I've ever seen.  Apparently dazed by the pummeling onslaught of product churned out by Channing Tatum and Joseph Gordon Leavitt, America finally relented and bought into them.  I will never understand the appeal of these two vapid pretty boys.  Essentially a couple of walking career moves, these dudes in my eyes have no presence, no charisma and have thus far offered no indication of acting talent.  Tatum isn't even good looking for Christ's sake!  He's cross eyed and has a bizarre, disproportionate physique.  I don't get how women were sold on him as a sex symbol, it must be that they like his silly dancing or something.  I'm immune to that however and found nothing else worth applauding in 21 Jump Street, which I felt was a vulgar, lazy chore of a film.  G.I. Joe 2 being postponed to add that bonehead back in forever precluded any potential goodwill.

As far as JGL is concerned, well, fuck that guy.  He's like a fame and accolade starved acting robot assembled in the bowels of a high school drama club.  Now, through sheer force of unholy will, he's broken out into the big time.  Loosed upon the earth to wear tiny clothes and perpetually flash his rictus grin on an endless succession of red carpets.  He's all jazz hands and breathless dance numbers  practiced a million times into the mirror.  He's so cloying and desperate to play the big boy actor game, his intensity comes across totally forced and entirely false.  I mean, as much as I loved TDKR, JGL was wretched in it and dragged the film down into featureless anonymity every time he was onscreen.  But Looper was the straw that broke the camels back for me. This is where my ultimate separation with the film-lover generation one age bracket beneath me has finally occurred.  If you dudes in your early 20's really think Looper is some sort of thoughtful, deep and profound Sci-Fi masterpiece on the level of Kubrick's 2001, we just don't see the world the same way.

I walked out of Looper to be bluntly honest.  It was so vacant and ugly and dull as to be impenetrable.  I made it an hour and 20 minutes in before I'd had enough of looking at JGL in clownish makeup making idiotic faces while supposed auteur Rian Johnson ripped off Time-Cop.  I simply couldn't believe how awful it was considering the masturbatory praise it had been receiving from all corners of the critical community.  My good friend I went to see it with turned to me about 20 minutes before we left and whispered "this is sooooo boring".  I was infinitely relieved I wasn't the only one that felt this way.

 It struck me as a film that thought it was about fate and relationships made by someone who didn't know jack shit about either.  With the simplistic romance it imbues its ugly, meaningless world with, it's no wonder kids in their early 20's are eating it up.  The movie plays at the complicated notions of love and responsibility without exploring or even considering their complexity in any valid way.  We're supposed to care about Willis' wife because we saw a couple of slo-mo flashbacks where she never spoke?  I'm invested in him saving her life cause they laid in a hammock once?  That's not a relationship, that's a placeholder photograph in a frame store.  Looper is about as deep as a mud puddle and the action sucks.  I guess I'd rather be a fuddy-duddy with outdated, uncool opinions than pretend I found anything remotely tolerable about this pile of celluloid excrement.

Thankfully, The Master did not disappoint in the slightest.  If anything, it exceeded my expectations and was a vastly more entertaining and intellectually rewarding experience than even I had hoped for.  It had the stylistic distance and emotionally aloof feel of There Will Be Blood, but injected the template with more psychological depth and a great deal of off-kilter humor.  There simply will not be a better performance this year than Joaquin Phoenix's work as Freddie Quell.  I've not seen an actor disappear into a role this frighteningly since DeNiro in Raging Bull.  It truly is uncanny how wholly he inhabits this animal, this creature, this undiluted essence of male rage and wandering desire.  Still, P.S. Hoffman matches him beat for beat as the gregarious, bullshit spewing blowhard Lancaster Dodd.

 Each man is the unresolved equation of the other, their story the great film romance of the year.  They both see what they wish to attain in themselves in each other, but are too painfully self aware to buy into the others lifestyle completely.  It's a film of awkward introspection and unresolved questions.  A lingering, pained realization of the limits of understanding and the hollow nature of meaning, no matter how ferociously or meticulously you go about searching for it.  The film is so masterfully shot, scored, acted and written, it's no wonder I found Looper to be such an affront to the art form when viewed in its wake.  Alternatingly hilarious, heartbreaking, upsetting, life affirming and life negating, The Master is a towering, singular achievement.  The kind of film I'll need to watch many times over many years to firmly grasp and sufficiently articulate my appreciation of. 

Sinister was a well made, moderately effective slice of horror.  Ethan Hawke was quite good and the Christopher Young score is a moody masterwork, but ultimately it was so exhaustingly over plotted and generally predictable as to be more wearying than anything.  I can't fathom ever revisiting it.  I also can't imagine sitting through Frankenweenie again having barely made it through the initial viewing.  I enjoyed the first 20 minutes or so, but the film quickly runs out of plot and point, becoming all pointless homage and predictable design.  I'm looking forward to Silent Hill Revelations and the Halloween season, fraught with revisiting familiar films and waxing nostalgic.  Thanks for reading.