The Grouchy Editor

I was washing up in the men’s room at the movie theater when I noticed another man, roughly my age, doing the same at another sink.  “Which movie did you like better,” I asked him, “this one or the old one?”

He hesitated a moment, looked up and said, “I think this one.”

“I think I prefer The Duke,” I said.

We had both just watched the Coen brothers’ remake of True Grit, the classic John Wayne western.  I understood why the man in the restroom had hesitated.  It’s hard to distinguish between the two films, one produced in 1969 and the other just released.  Hard to distinguish because if ever the word “remake” applied to a motion picture – aside from Gus Van Sant’s ill-conceived carbon-copy of Psycho – this is the time.

To say that Joel and Ethan Coen pay respect to the 1969 film is an understatement.  The dialogue in the two films is frequently twin-like, the story, except for its ending, is the same, and some of the settings (I am thinking of the dugout scene) appear identical.  But the Coens enjoyed an advantage with their version of Charles Portis’s novel:  a bigger budget and superior production values.

In that respect, the Coens’ True Grit is the better movie.  But watching it is an eerie, déjà vu-like experience.  Ethan Coen has said that his and Joel’s film is more faithful to the spirit of Portis’s book than it is to the Wayne movie.  I don’t buy that for a second.  The new film is the old film but with different actors and better art design.

It all comes down to this:  Whom do you prefer as Rooster Cogburn, Jeff Bridges or John Wayne?  The man in the restroom preferred Bridges; I believe I prefer The Duke – but only by a whisker.         Grade:  B-

Directors:  Joel Coen, Ethan Coen  Cast:  Jeff Bridges, Hailee Steinfeld, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin, Barry Pepper, Dakin Matthews, Jarlath Conroy, Paul Rae, Domhnall Gleeson  Release:  2010

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Years ago, I read James Frey’s controversial book A Million Little Pieces.  By the time I picked it up, Frey’s “nonfiction” memoir had been exposed as a partial hoax, so I knew what to expect.  But you know what?  Had the publishers simply marketed Frey’s book as fiction, I think it still stood a good chance of becoming a bestseller.  It was that good.

Similarly, Catfish is documentary that has fallen under intense media scrutiny.  Is the film real, or an elaborate prank?  Either way, it’s a gripping detective story and an insightful examination of the new social media.

Catfish depicts the strange odyssey of young New Yorker Nev Schulman and his Internet relationship with a mystery woman living in rural Michigan.  As the movie progresses, it becomes apparent that a gigantic con game is afoot.  But who, exactly, is being conned — cocksure Nev and his two pals, who just happen to be making a movie?   The audience?  There is something disingenuous about the New York boys, who were the beneficiaries of some amazingly good luck and coincidences in the course of making a seemingly mundane film.

The Social Network is the buzzed-about film of the year, and it’s often referred to as the “Facebook movie.”  It is not.  It is a film about business, friendship, and betrayal; the Internet is merely the background to the story.  The real “Facebook movie” is Catfish.  Every facet of new technology comes into play:  GPS, text messaging, Facebook, and cell phones.  But so does the dark side of our brave new world:  identity theft, digital alteration, and the loss of face-to-face communication.

The irony is that while the audience watches someone getting his chain yanked in Catfish, it has to wonder if it’s being played itself.   Or, as Ariel Schulman says to his brother Nev,  “We don’t know how much of it’s bullshit.  And they don’t know how much of it you know is bullshit.”                Grade:  B+

Directors:  Ariel Schulman, Henry Joost  Featuring:  Yaniv Schulman, Angela Wesselman-Pierce, Ariel Schulman, Henry Joost  Release:  2010

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I’m sorry, but I don’t care if The Fighter is “based on a true story” – it’s a tired, tired tale.  If your idea of a good time is Turner Classic Movies at 2 a.m., watching Pat O’Brien as the good cop and James Cagney as the bad guy, two childhood friends who took separate paths in life, then by all means knock yourself out and buy a ticket to The Fighter.

Every boxing-movie cliché is here:  the colorful neighborhood residents, the training montages (jump rope, anyone?), the sparring montages, the overkill of period music.  Delete an F-bomb here and there, and we are right back at The Roxy watching Pat and Jimmy flicker on the silver screen.  But I suppose I shouldn’t blame director David O. Russell and his team of screenwriters for digging this plot out of mothballs.  If this formula has worked in so many movies past, why not dress it up and try to shovel in some fresh cash?

There’s been a lot of talk about the acting in this film.  Christian Bale, as bad brother Dicky, is fine.  Melissa Leo, as tough-as-nails Mom (she smokes – always the sign of a villain these days), is fine, although she was better in 2008’s Frozen River.  And Amy Adams shows off a fine Boston accent and looks great in her see-thru black bra and panties.

But all of this fine acting is brought down by that tired, tired story, and by an unconvincingly happy ending – even if it is based on a true story.      Grade:  C+

Director:  David O. Russell  Cast:  Mark Wahlberg, Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Melissa Leo, Mickey O’Keefe, Jack McGee, Chanty Sok  Release:  2010

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Just as with any other good presentation, The King’s Speech uses multiple strategies to win over its audience.  The first ploy is an appeal to patriotism:  You don’t have to be a British subject to choose sides in a film about World War II.  The second strategy is to charm the pants off of you.  In this regard, the movie has an unbeatable combo in the odd couple portrayed by Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush.

Firth stars as (the eventual) King George VI, a decent man suffering from a debilitating speech disorder.  He stutters.  Through his wife (Helena Bonham Carter), George engages Lionel Logue (Rush), an eccentric Aussie with peculiar – though possibly effective – vocal techniques.

The King’s Speech is an actors’ showcase.  The verbal and social jousting between Firth and Rush is at the heart of the film, and when the two of them are sequestered in an office, experimenting with everything from recorded music to profanity-laced tirades, the movie is at its best.  It is Pygmalion in reverse, with commoner Lionel wielding power over blue-blooded George.

Looming in the background is all manner of social turmoil, including World War II, the abdication of George’s brother, the feckless Edward VIII, and the Great Depression.  Director Tom Hooper and screenwriter David Seidler try their damndest to link these monumental events to George’s personal struggle, but no matter how hard you try, and the filmmakers certainly do, you can’t gussy up a five-minute radio address to the same dramatic effect as, say, an invasion of Omaha Beach.   It is still just a five-minute radio address.

The King’s Speech is a small movie, often amusing but not very profound.  Despite Hooper’s attempts to make us sweat the fate of England, the overriding impression is that there is just one thing at stake:  George’s self-esteem.       Grade:  B

Director:  Tom Hooper  Cast:  Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, Helena Bonham Carter, Guy Pearce, Timothy Spall, Derek Jacobi, Jennifer Ehle, Michael Gambon, Robert Portal, Richard M. Dixon  Release:  2010

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A good deal of the romantic crime-drama Accomplices updates Romeo and Juliet for the wired generation.  That’s the good news.  The bad news is that the kids in this version of embattled love don’t kindle their passion on anyone’s balcony – they peddle their bodies to middle-aged men found in Internet chat rooms.

Director Frederic Mermoud’s film weaves parallel plots, one involving the star-crossed lovers and the other about two aging detectives assigned to investigate when the boy is killed and the girl disappears.  Both story threads are compelling.  We want to know what happened to Vincent and Rebecca, the kids who took too many risks, but we’re also intrigued by the relationship between cops Herve and Karine, two haunted 40-somethings afraid to risk anything at all.

The film begins with the gruesome discovery of Vincent’s body, bloated and pale, floating in the waters of the Rhone.  From there, a series of flashbacks reveal Vincent’s and Rebecca’s first meeting at a cybercafé and subsequent courtship.  The second story works in reverse time as Herve and Karine unravel what led to Vincent’s murder.

Most of the screen time in Accomplices belongs to the young lovers, played marvelously by Cyril Descours and Nina Meurisse.  Vincent is a 20-year-old hustler, too old for adolescent hijinks but not so jaded that he isn’t entranced by high-school student Rebecca.  We do not learn how Vincent got involved in male prostitution.  Rebecca’s initiation into the dark side, on the other hand, is spelled out in great detail.  The seediness escalates; there is much bare flesh and ugly human nature on display.  Yet through it all, Vincent and Rebecca maintain a credible air of wounded innocence — a compliment to the young stars.

In the end, the stories of Vincent and Rebecca, and Herve and Karine, converge.  It’s bittersweet and satisfying, a final act of which I think Shakespeare would approve.       Grade:  B+

Director:  Frederic Mermoud   Cast:  Gilbert Melki, Emmanuelle Devos, Cyril Descours, Nina Meurisse, Joana Preiss, Jeremy Azencott, Jeremy Kapone, Marc Rioufol, Yeelem Jappain, Clara Ponsot  Release:  2009

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The problem with movies in which the main character begins to hallucinate is that, as a viewer, you are powerless.  The director, not you, gets to decide what’s “real” and what is not.  If he so chooses, anything goes:  Is that a reflection of the heroine in the mirror, or is it the image of a dead woman?  Are those bloody scratches on her body just a hallucination, or are they genuine?  As a mere member of the audience, you can only decide if the filmmaker is playing fair.

Director Darren Aronofsky in Black Swan goes a little too Freddy Krueger for my taste.  His protagonist, a young ballerina named Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), endures one too many surrealistic episodes – often accompanied by that cheapest of movie tricks, the dreaded LOUD SOUND EFFECT! – and these Grand Guignol excursions damage the dramatic flow and credibility of the story.

But Black Swan is never boring.  The acting is first rate, including Barbara Hershey as the creepiest stage mother this side of Kim Stanley in Frances, and Vincent Cassel as a man who has discovered there are no Human Resources departments in ballet companies, and thus uses sexual harassment of young dancers as a routine part of his “instruction.”

Portman stars as a young dancer whom everyone pressures because they believe she has talent but lacks the passion to fully capture the role of the Black Swan in Swan Lake.  Portman dances well, and she proves she can fake orgasms with the best of them, but … all this talk of a Best Actress award?  There are scores of close-ups of Portman’s face, looking tense.  Is that how you win an Oscar?  I think I prefer Annette Bening’s more nuanced performance in The Kids Are All Right.

From press reports it’s apparent that Aronofsky was aiming for a film in the tradition of Roman Polanski’s early thrillers.  What he delivers is All About Eve meets A Nightmare on Elm Street.  His film is atmospheric and packed with histrionics, which is entertaining stuff but not particularly memorable.        Grade:  B

Director:  Darren Aronofsky  Cast:  Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey, Winona Ryder, Benjamin Millepied, Ksenia Solo, Kristina Anapau  Release:  2010

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