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01Dec

American Graffiti (1973)

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Random scrawls on the wall (with a can of spray paint) about an American classic:

Ron Howard made the best decision ever by an actor when he moved from in front of the camera to the back. Howard was, frankly, a dreadful actor. Young Ronnie Howard got by on TV’s The Andy Griffith Show because he was such a cute little kid. Older Ron got by, again, on Happy Days because Richie Cunningham was a stiff, awkward young character played by a stiff, awkward young actor. American Graffiti, in many ways a delightful showcase for actors, grinds to a screeching halt every time Howard’s character, Steve, is the focus. Worst scene: Near the end of the film, Steve glances at his wristwatch and says to Curt (Richard Dreyfuss), “Where are you going? It’s awfully early in the morning.” If that reads bad, wait until you hear Howard say it.

Other than Howard, the actors shine in this film. This is odd, because this is a George Lucas film, and the soft-spoken filmmaker is not considered an “actor’s director.” Said Harrison Ford, who got his big break in Graffiti: “George is not overly fond of the actual shooting part of filmmaking.” Lucas was more at home in the editing room or creating special effects. But in 1973 he paid attention to the characters in his movie and the result was magical. I think American Graffiti is his best film, and yes, that includes the overblown Star Wars flicks.

I have mixed feelings about the use of nonstop period music in the film. Lucas’s decision to do this was so successful that it influenced scores of movies to come — especially those set in the ’50s or ’60s. Thanks to this rock-and-roll overkill, there was a time when I never again wanted to hear Buddy Holly. Or The Platters. Or The Flamingos, et al.

This excerpt is from a 2001 review of American Graffiti on a Web site called thedigitalfix: “Maybe it’s because we’re British, or maybe it’s because the film has lost most of its charm over the years, but either way, American Graffiti isn’t as good as the praise that has been heaped on it.”

Well, maybe it’s because I’m American, and maybe it’s because I was once an anxiety-riddled, naïve teenager cruising the streets of a small American town, but the film has lost none of its charm for me. Lucas has called his first hit movie “uniquely American,” and I suppose that’s true — but only to an extent. It’s a universal story because all of us were teenagers, but it’s American because it does such a wonderful job depicting a specific place and a specific time. Grade: A

Director: George Lucas Cast: Richard Dreyfuss, Ron Howard, Paul Le Mat, Charles Martin Smith, Cindy Williams, Candy Clark, Mackenzie Phillips, Wolfman Jack, Bo Hopkins, Harrison Ford Release: 1973

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29Nov

Tiny Furniture

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Tiny Furniture is like an e-mail you receive from your 22-year-old niece. You laugh at her misadventures, shake your head over her latest choice of a boyfriend, and worry just a bit about her future. It’s an amusing and charming e-mail, but she has no earthshaking news, and by the next day you’ve forgotten all about it.

Tiny Furniture creator Lena Dunham is being anointed the next “it” girl by some critics, heralded as a filmmaker with a bright future. Dunham shot her movie on a shoestring budget in her real family’s Manhattan loft, and enlisted friends and family members to play pivotal roles in what, I assume, is a more-than-slightly autobiographical film.

Dunham directed, wrote, and stars in the film as Aura, a recent college grad who returns to her mother’s home to little fanfare, and proceeds to struggle with men, old friends, work and, mostly, an apparently unsympathetic mother and a self-centered younger sister. Aura is no pampered product of the new millennium; she’s a friendly, funny, and smart cookie cast adrift in that messy thing called adulthood.

It’s been a long time since I graduated from college (even longer since I was a young woman), so I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that young women will relate to Aura’s heartbreak and frustrations much more than I did. But I also believe that exceptional movies transcend gender, reaching out to both sexes and all ages. Tiny Furniture doesn’t do that. Its dramatics might be profoundly relevant to my 22-year-old niece – but not really to anyone else. Grade: B

Director: Lena Dunham Cast: Lena Dunham, Laurie Simmons, Grace Dunham, Jemima Kirke, Alex Karpovsky, David Call, Merritt Wever Release: 2010

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28Nov

The Most Dangerous Game

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by Richard Connell

Connell’s prose reminds me of Cornell Woolrich. At times his writing feels amateurish, but like Woolrich, the man knows how to build suspense and tell an original tale. At just 35 pages, Game is really just a short story, but Connell packs more action into those pages than Tolstoy does with ten times the length. The plot: An American falls off a yacht in the Caribbean and is swept to shore on a mysterious island. Once there, he becomes the “guest” of an aristocratic Russian hunter who informs the American that they will go hunting together – with the Russian as hunter and the American as prey. It’s melodramatic hokum, but it works. My only complaint is with the Hollywood ending, which feels false.

27Nov

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)

Posted in Books, Movies, TV & Web, Oldies | 1 Comment

Why am I not in love with this film?

Whenever critics compile their lists of great movies from Hollywood’s Golden Age, John Huston’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is among the honored. Yet to me, the film seems to be … missing something. This, well, “deficiency” prevents Huston’s adventure tale from being as emotionally satisfying as other classics from the 1930s-1940s.

The movie certainly has an impressive pedigree. Some people think it’s Huston’s best work, and this is the same writer-director who gave us The Maltese Falcon, Key Largo, and The African Queen. You can find critics who believe the late, great Humphrey Bogart delivered his best performance in this film. When I asked my own father to name his favorite movie, he cited this one. So why don’t I like it more? Again, something … isn’t there.

For the uninitiated, Treasure tells the story of three down-on-their-luck American expatriates in 1920s Mexico. They team up to prospect for gold, and during their pursuit must battle bandits, the elements, and their own self-interests. There is lots of action, and everyone who sees the film agrees that Bogart and especially Walter Huston (John’s Oscar-rewarded father) are superb.

Huston’s script has the universal themes of greed, loyalty, and honor that one might expect from a classic. The movie was mostly shot on location in Mexico, a rarity in 1947, which adds immeasurably to its authenticity.

So once again, why on earth am I so unmoved by this beloved movie? Two reasons, I think: Despite the bravura performances by Bogart and Huston, their characters aren’t particularly likable. I didn’t care if any of them got rich.

And I finally figured out what was missing from the film: women. Grade: B

Director: John Huston Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Walter Huston, Tim Holt, Bruce Bennett, Barton MacLane, Alfonso Bedoya, Robert Blake Release: 1948

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27Nov

Sense and Sensibility

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by Jane Austen

There are two ways to read a Jane Austen novel: with modern-day sensibilities, or by just going with the flow. I recommend option number two. Austen is such a witty writer that it’s easy to forget you are essentially devouring soap opera, and are getting caught up in the feelings, intrigues, and status of characters who are, after all, a bunch of privileged snobs.

The men in Austen books never seem to actually work and often fall prey to the sins of “idleness.” The women are no better, wasting their time on gossip and self-pity. Meanwhile, their servants and other lower-class citizens are barely worth a mention. However … if you do go with the flow and can bring yourself to identify with Austen’s pampered people, it’s a rewarding experience. Also, it’s not often I can claim that a book published in 1811 made me literally laugh out loud – but this one did.

25Nov

Countdown to Zero

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There are two impressions I can’t seem to shake after watching Countdown to Zero, a new documentary about nuclear-weapons proliferation. One of them is the sobering knowledge that movies like WarGames, Fail-Safe, and Dr. Strangelove are not as far-fetched as they might seem. Much of what passes for escapist entertainment in those films – technical malfunctions, human error – is alarmingly close to reality.

But there is also an image in the film that haunts me: a black-and-white photograph of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the American scientist commonly known as the “father of the atomic bomb.” In the famous photo, Oppenheimer wears a fedora, smokes a cigarette, and stares directly into the camera lens. His eyes appear to issue a warning: “I was Pandora,” they seem to say, “What happens next … is up to you.” Oppenheimer looks fatalistic – which can’t be good news for the rest of us.

The following is an Oppenheimer quote from 1947, two years after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki: “I have been asked whether in the years to come it will be possible to kill 40 million American people in the 20 largest American towns by the use of atomic bombs in a single night. I am afraid that the answer to that question is yes. I have been asked whether there is hope for the nation’s security in keeping secret some of the knowledge which has gone into the making of the bombs. I am afraid there is no such hope.”

Hope seems in short supply in Countdown to Zero. Director Lucy Walker’s film is a catalog of near-disasters and rampant dissemination of nuclear materials to just about anyone who can pay for them. This onslaught of nightmarish news left me feeling pessimistic, despite Walker’s pro-disarmament message. It’s not exactly heartening to be reminded that there are still 23,000 nuclear weapons on Earth. Also disturbing is this potential conflict between the United States and Russia, as described by a member of the World Security Institute: “Within 15 minutes, all of the forces on launch-ready alert [could] be in the air in their flight to the other side of the planet … and they could kill over 100 million Russians and Americans within 30 minutes.”

I’m guessing it won’t help anyone sleep at night to learn that, should the American or Russian presidents be forced to consider retaliation in the event of a (possibly false) reported attack, the amount of time allotted to make that decision would be about the same as the time you just took to read this review. Grade: A-

Director: Lucy Walker Featuring: Graham Allison, James Baker III, Bruce Blair, Tony Blair, Zbigniew Brzezinski, Jimmy Carter, Joseph Cirincione, Mikhail Gorbachev, Robert McNamara, Valerie Plame Wilson Release: 2010

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22Nov

High Lane

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Scenario 1: Lady A is late to the movie theater. Parking is impossible to find, and the concession-stand line is endless. As a result, Lady A misses the first half of High Lane.

Scenario 2: Gentleman B watches the first half of High Lane, but receives an emergency call from his cousin Bertie, who urgently needs bail money. Gentleman B departs the theater, and misses the second half of High Lane.

The following day, you bump into Lady A and Gentleman B, and ask both what they thought of the film. “A crackerjack adventure with gorgeous scenery,” Gentleman B tells you, adding, “I highly recommend it.” “It was horrid, cliché-ridden, slasher dreck,” says Lady A. “By all means, avoid it,” she adds. Who is giving you the best advice – Lady A or Gentleman B? Answer: both of them.

The first half of director Abel Ferry’s … well, “horror/adventure,” sports some of the best, tensest mountain-climbing scenes this side of Cliffhanger. The mountain views (allegedly of the Balkans but reportedly shot in France) are breathtaking. Ferry’s depiction of these nerve-wracking crags and crevices and their effect on one character’s vertigo is dizzying, indeed.

But for some unfathomable reason, at the 45-minute-mark the film makes a Wrong Turn and steers away from nail-biting action to tiresome, seen-it-all-before horror. I suppose the idea must have looked good on paper: Deliverance Meets Leatherface.

Our heroes, a group of five young and attractive (naturally) climbers, suddenly find themselves stalked and cocked by a sort of Croatian Keith Richards, an unwashed hillbilly who, in the grand tradition of all bogeymen, has no trouble snaring young people who sprint full-speed while he simply plods after them. Everything you expect to see is included: A young woman miraculously displays martial arts skills; people go places they shouldn’t, and do things they oughtn’t – all in the service of a plot gone spectacularly wrong. Grade: C

Director: Abel Ferry Cast: Fanny Valette, Johan Libereau, Raphael Lenglet, Nicolas Giraud, Maud Wyler, Justin Blanckaert Release: 2009

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17Nov

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

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I don’t care how old you are, 15 or 50, the beginning of the end of the Harry Potter saga is sad news. But for me, this magical film franchise really began to fade about five years ago.

The Potter films were a marvel in the beginning. Director Chris Columbus reached into a hat and produced a pair of movies that captured not only the essence of J.K. Rowling’s novels, but also their appearance. Think about it. All of the Potter films – including the five not directed by Columbus – have relied on the ingenious casting, sets, and music introduced in the first film. Who supervised the construction of Hogwarts? What genius cast Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid? With all due respect, it wasn’t David Yates; nor was it Mike Newell or Alfonso Cuaron. Rowling could not have asked for a better director than Columbus to transfer her vision to film.

Beginning with the third film, the series’s tone began to change. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the movies lost some of their charm. As Harry, Ron and Hermione grew older and less innocent, the stories moved away from the wonder of magic and the mind-blowing concept of a school for wizards, and more toward standard teenage melodrama. It’s impossible to pinpoint exactly when the fantasy began to diminish, but the transition was unmistakable. If I were handing out Harry Potter grades in the Great Hall, they would go something like this: First two films – A; third and fourth films – B+; fifth and sixth films – B.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is a good movie. The franchise’s expensive production values, veteran actors, and commitment to quality ensure that all Potter films at least look and sound impressive. It’s the tone, the ambience, that has changed – and not for the better.

Rowling’s books somehow managed to avoid this pitfall. Maybe that’s because in the books we don’t actually hear Harry’s voice mutate from soprano to baritone (as we did in Chamber of Secrets), nor did we actually watch Ron grow so tall. Or maybe it’s simply a testament to Rowling’s skill as a writer.

Here’s hoping that Deathly Hallows, which opens in a few days, can recapture some of that old magic … although I don’t expect that it will. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Grade: B-

Director: David Yates Cast: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Helena Bonham Carter, Jim Broadbent, Robbie Coltrane, Tom Felton, Michael Gambon, Alan Rickman, Maggie Smith Release: 2009

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12Nov

Antichrist

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Let’s take a little trip, shall we? Let’s go back to the Garden of Eden. While we’re there, maybe we can answer a few nagging questions. Was Eve really a villain? Are women more responsible than men for “original sin”? And is life a matter of rational thought creating order … or does chaos reign?

Lars von Trier’s thought-provoking Antichrist has been attacked as a misogynistic film, but I didn’t get that impression. In Trier’s hellish view of our time here on Earth, we are all of us pretty much screwed. Here is an exchange between a wife (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her husband (Willem Dafoe):

She: “If human nature is evil, then that goes as well for the nature of —“

He: “Of the women.”

She: “— the nature of all the sisters.”

Critics have seized on Trier’s storyline in which the wife, traumatized over the accidental death of the couple’s only child, gradually becomes an Eve apparently designed by the devil, leading to some graphically violent outbursts against her husband. But prior to that, I had to wonder who was torturing whom — if your husband, a therapist, deals with his own grief by treating you like a psychological experiment in a Petri dish (“No therapist can know as much about you as I do,” he tells her), might not you snap, as well? They say there’s nothing worse than losing a child. After watching Antichrist, it seems there might be one thing worse: marriage to a jerk who sidesteps his own problems by analyzing your every move and thought.

All of this sounds like dreary stuff, and it is. There are a few graphic scenes, but nothing that fans of, say, Hostel haven’t seen before. Trier has turned potentially off-putting material into an engrossing, visually dazzling, study of the nature of, well, nature. Grade: A-

Director: Lars von Trier Cast: Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg Release: 2009

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10Nov

Welcome to the Rileys

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I know what you must be thinking.

You are thinking, “But this film hasn’t been released yet; how can anyone review it, much less give it a 100 percent rating?” In answer to that, let me just mention two words: Kristen Stewart.

Although it’s true that I have yet to see the film, I am told that Ms. Stewart gives a powerful performance. Says one critic of the film, “We can almost forget the weight of Kristen Stewart dragging it down with every hair flip and tug.”

Reading between the lines of that review, it’s clear to me that this critic is referring to Stewart’s unique ability to create heavy, serious drama out of what might have been a lightweight movie.

Back in the third grade, when I was a tyke of nine years, I developed a crush on a girl named Patty Guggenheimer. Patty was new to our school, and quite unpopular. One day, sitting in Mrs. Spolum’s class, I inadvertently filled my pants.

Most of my classmates noticed the noxious smell and, in their ignorance, began to whisper about poor Patty. In my shame and cowardice, I allowed this false impression to continue. Poor Patty, my schoolboy crush, took the blame, and I am heartsick about that to this day.

But I must admit, there was a pre-pubertal excitement in all of this, as I sat there at my wooden desk, my heart filled with pining for Patty and my pants filled with poop.

Over the years, I grew to miss that exciting sensation. Then one day not long ago, as I watched a Kristen Stewart movie (you guessed it) – it happened again.

I initially became paranoid; was it just me who was thus affected by Kristen Stewart’s performance? I checked around, conferring with friends here at rottentomatoes. To my immense relief, I learned that both Hollywood and SB, whose opinions I value, experienced similar, stomach-tingling sensations whenever they viewed a Kristen Stewart performance.

And so, in conclusion, let me make a bold prediction. Come the spring and Oscar time, the name Kristen Stewart will be announced as Best Actress in a motion picture, that picture being Welcome to the Rileys. Kristen’s pert, cherry-tipped breasts will no doubt be awarded an honorary Oscar (she plays a stripper). And when she climbs the stairs to the podium, every man, woman and child in the Hollywood auditorium will fill his or her pants in excitement.

There will not be a dry ass in the house.

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(Note: I originally posted this “review” at rottentomatoes.com in October 2010)