Some lesser-known films I've seen recently (and even some popular ones) have made appearances on YouTube. I don't know what their respective public domain status is, but as long as they're up they serve as a quick preview (and far better than trailers in many instances) for movies some readers may be interested in.
Admittedly, I have some reservations about clip-dropping because they're out-of-context and thus don't give the full effect. But I just gotta. And if this doesn't lead to viewing the whole film, better you get a part than nothing at all.
Lacombe, Lucien (1974). The devastating ending of Louis Malle's epic. It's beautiful enough to stand on its own, but this film is a must-see:
(Link fixed 3-14-10)
Under the Volcano (1984). John Huston is best known for his films with Bogart, but his career lasted far past the 1940's and produced plenty of films of equal worth. Albert Finney's performance as a functioning alcoholic is the best I've ever seen:
Wise Blood (1979). More John Huston. Perhaps the best performance of Brad Dourif's career as Hazel Motes. I didn't believe Flannery O'Connor could be faithfully adapted to film. I was wrong:
Brazil (1985). Terry Gilliam's greatest work. Everyone should see this movie. This is what bureaucracy looks like:
Ikiru (1952). It's the time of year for regular It's a Wonderful Life screenings. Nothing wrong with that, but this year try a little Kurosawa instead:
(Link changed 3-14-10)
Feel free to link to others in the comments!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
A Load of B.S. - On the return of the Boondock Saints
I was not the first at Plymouth-Salem High School to discover The Boondock Saints around 1999. The film had a very limited theatrical release, and I don't believe Detroit or Ann Arbor fit the bill. Instead, Troy Duffy's cinematic orgy of death came to the Midwest via Blockbuster Video. With the cheaper printing of DVDs, many Blockbuster locations remain a great place to find direct-to-video trash like Cruel Intentions 3, while classics like Cool Hand Luke are only found in the online catalog.
On recommendation from the only other bona fide film buff in the tenth grade, I sought out the original and, like any 15-year-old Reservoir Dogs fan, fell in love. Vengeance, but in God's name. At the time I was impressed. Anyway, I was perhaps the second at Plymouth-Salem High School to discover Boondock Saints around 1999.
Ten years later, on the eve of the trailer for Boondock Saints 2: All Saints Day, I could officially opine "Who cares?"
Six guns. No aiming required.
Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flannery certainly look 10 years(+) older, and I'm sure the plot goes a long way towards explaining their prolonged absence, but it's very hard to give a vigilante story new flavor, especially in a series. The original film (like all vigilante films) plays off the worst of gut instinct: revenge. "If only someone would get these drug dealers, rapists, bartenders(?) off the streets, then things would be better." The law is not a solution to these problems, but a hindrance. Ambiguously called by the Lord to dish out a good dose of smite to the South Boston underworld, the McManus brothers (with the help of comedy well-worn with frat boys reciting "Taking your f****ing rope" for the past decade) proceed to "kill everyone." And, with their silly sidekick, a cat.
This kind of treatment can only stay fresh for so long. Rather than recognize the calamity that is sure to follow in any instance of prolonged vigilantism (that is, the collapse of the rule of law), the Saints are elevated to folk heroes-- the people we all wish we had the "guts" to be. Perhaps the sequel will add something new to the equation but, as deceiving as trailers may be in some cases, this doesn't appear to be such a case.
The two best films on vigilantism are Death Wish (1974) and Taxi Driver (1976). Both Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) and Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) are sociopaths, and the films take an honest approach to the derangement that leads to vigilantism and the lasting effects of such behavior. The four Death Wish sequels should serve enough of a warning to Troy Duffy to leave his original cult classic alone, but given that Duffy was actually let behind a camera again to begin with, we can't exactly expect him to branch out at this point.
Perhaps the hardest part for me is the illusion Boondock Saints projects like select other Hollywood films (such as Fight Club) that there's something clever or thought-provoking behind the story. There isn't. Unfortunately, references to God (and Marx) seem to have that effect of "Man, it just makes you think, you know?" Thinking about actually studying either subject? Fat chance. But maybe someday. Here's hoping.
I close with a little self-pat-on-the back for my previous post on the utter farce that is the Saw series. Sure enough, while I have only seen the first installment, the advertising for the sixth (!) film confirms just how simple-minded this pseudo-philosophical dirt really is:
Mindless entertainment indeed.
On recommendation from the only other bona fide film buff in the tenth grade, I sought out the original and, like any 15-year-old Reservoir Dogs fan, fell in love. Vengeance, but in God's name. At the time I was impressed. Anyway, I was perhaps the second at Plymouth-Salem High School to discover Boondock Saints around 1999.
Ten years later, on the eve of the trailer for Boondock Saints 2: All Saints Day, I could officially opine "Who cares?"
Six guns. No aiming required.Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flannery certainly look 10 years(+) older, and I'm sure the plot goes a long way towards explaining their prolonged absence, but it's very hard to give a vigilante story new flavor, especially in a series. The original film (like all vigilante films) plays off the worst of gut instinct: revenge. "If only someone would get these drug dealers, rapists, bartenders(?) off the streets, then things would be better." The law is not a solution to these problems, but a hindrance. Ambiguously called by the Lord to dish out a good dose of smite to the South Boston underworld, the McManus brothers (with the help of comedy well-worn with frat boys reciting "Taking your f****ing rope" for the past decade) proceed to "kill everyone." And, with their silly sidekick, a cat.
This kind of treatment can only stay fresh for so long. Rather than recognize the calamity that is sure to follow in any instance of prolonged vigilantism (that is, the collapse of the rule of law), the Saints are elevated to folk heroes-- the people we all wish we had the "guts" to be. Perhaps the sequel will add something new to the equation but, as deceiving as trailers may be in some cases, this doesn't appear to be such a case.
The two best films on vigilantism are Death Wish (1974) and Taxi Driver (1976). Both Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson) and Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) are sociopaths, and the films take an honest approach to the derangement that leads to vigilantism and the lasting effects of such behavior. The four Death Wish sequels should serve enough of a warning to Troy Duffy to leave his original cult classic alone, but given that Duffy was actually let behind a camera again to begin with, we can't exactly expect him to branch out at this point.
Perhaps the hardest part for me is the illusion Boondock Saints projects like select other Hollywood films (such as Fight Club) that there's something clever or thought-provoking behind the story. There isn't. Unfortunately, references to God (and Marx) seem to have that effect of "Man, it just makes you think, you know?" Thinking about actually studying either subject? Fat chance. But maybe someday. Here's hoping.
I close with a little self-pat-on-the back for my previous post on the utter farce that is the Saw series. Sure enough, while I have only seen the first installment, the advertising for the sixth (!) film confirms just how simple-minded this pseudo-philosophical dirt really is:
Mindless entertainment indeed.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
District 9: Summer Goes Out with a Bang
District 9 is the best popcorn flick of summer 2009, beating out Star Trek because of its overall seriousness and, more importantly, freshness. Trek. Transformers. Terminator; even a "new" film (franchise? I hope not.) like GI Joe relates back to comic books and cartoons. Not without plenty of cliche sci-fi / action elements, District 9 is far from perfect, but I'm impressed.
Any Blade Runner fan eagerly awaits "serious" or "gritty" science fiction. Such fare usually only gets a major release once a decade: the 1990s had Dark City, and just a few years ago another minor miracle-- Children of Men-- marked what I thought would account for this decade. To be sure, there are plenty of other jewels out there, such as Strange Days, Code 46 and Gattaca, but these either did not see wide release or had very little promotion to back them up, and certainly did not collect blockbuster revenues. District 9 has wide release and major promotion (complete with "This Bus for Humans Only" signs on buses in major cities). I eagerly await the box office reports, but for an R-rated dark sci-fi this seems to be quite a gamble on Peter Jackson's part, and I thank him for it.
There is plenty to criticize about D-9. The film's documentary style starts out promising, but soon enough the audience sees scenes that are clearly not part of the documentary. It's not too difficult to tell these scenes apart, but nevertheless the narrative is a bit clumsy at points. Now-and-then, during long periods of not part-of-the-documentary, some shots are shown through security cameras or the like: although this may have been intended to increase the audience's feeling of paranoia, I think it's more of a fallback that screams "don't forget that documentary thing that's going on! The viewers of the documentary don't know this, but you do!" By the end of the film, when the documentary rears its head for the last time, I for one thought "ah, yes, the documentary. Nice to see you again, old friend."
Every sci-fi has some plot holes and requires suspension of disbelief, but the heavy-handed "Evil Corporation" plot line needs to be retired. Aliens arrive on earth, and a government is going to contract with a private corporation (with its own private army) to manage the population? Spare me. Furthermore, even though these aliens have been removed from their ship, many of them happen to have brought along (smuggled?) what appears to be thousands of alien weapons into District 9. These weapons cannot be used by humans (that's another part of the plot), but one has to wonder whether that would make any difference when herding these aliens off of their ship.
But, anyway... after all this, there's everything to love.
First, no big-name stars. For a summer blockbuster, this is exceptional, and here it's effective. There are some recognizable faces, but by and large District 9 is newcomers and b-list actors. The setting of Johannesburg, South Africa is heightened with a lack of recognizable faces.
Second, uncompromising special effects. Remember Terminator: Salvation a few months back? I still wince at the memory of some of the more mediocre effects. I stayed through the credits of D-9, and it looks as if every major effects studio in the biz had a part in making sure every effect in the film was seamlessly integrated. This has been a problem in film for some time: we've had believable computer animation for over a decade already, but the potential for flawlessness has, shockingly, seldom yielded flawless results. This is one of those seldom results: you will have to remind yourself it's not real. That's as right as SFX get.
Finally, the plot is not stupid or dumbed-down. Once again, this is not to say it's perfect and many of the plot's parallels are simply interesting rather than actually compelling. Apartheid has been over in South Africa for some time. Does dredging this up and proceeding to beat it up really teach anyone a lesson? (Super digression: this is one reason I'm not looking forward to next week's release of Inglourious Basterds: "They're killing Nazis with baseball bats. Haha. That's funny. Because Nazis deserve it! Get it!?" True, but not exactly amusing.) I really don't see the point. Otherwise, it's very well-constructed. Our protagonist acts, I believe, in the way most people would act if put in his situation. He is heroic, but reluctant. And when he finally steps up, it's in a far more plausible way than "Dad quit drinking and flew his fighter jet into the aliens' lazor at the last possible second! We're saved!")
Returning to where I began this review, the freshness of it all, especially after the last few years of summer blockbusters, cannot be denied. Someone actually wrote an original screenplay based only off of his own short film. No novels. No comic books. No "source material." Just in the short life of this blog, it appears every new film review (okay, both of them) suffers from this. I'm tired of comparisons to source material, previous installments, "the original", etc.
Everything's derivative to some extent, but District 9 plays, and well. Breathe that fresh air while you can.
Any Blade Runner fan eagerly awaits "serious" or "gritty" science fiction. Such fare usually only gets a major release once a decade: the 1990s had Dark City, and just a few years ago another minor miracle-- Children of Men-- marked what I thought would account for this decade. To be sure, there are plenty of other jewels out there, such as Strange Days, Code 46 and Gattaca, but these either did not see wide release or had very little promotion to back them up, and certainly did not collect blockbuster revenues. District 9 has wide release and major promotion (complete with "This Bus for Humans Only" signs on buses in major cities). I eagerly await the box office reports, but for an R-rated dark sci-fi this seems to be quite a gamble on Peter Jackson's part, and I thank him for it.
There is plenty to criticize about D-9. The film's documentary style starts out promising, but soon enough the audience sees scenes that are clearly not part of the documentary. It's not too difficult to tell these scenes apart, but nevertheless the narrative is a bit clumsy at points. Now-and-then, during long periods of not part-of-the-documentary, some shots are shown through security cameras or the like: although this may have been intended to increase the audience's feeling of paranoia, I think it's more of a fallback that screams "don't forget that documentary thing that's going on! The viewers of the documentary don't know this, but you do!" By the end of the film, when the documentary rears its head for the last time, I for one thought "ah, yes, the documentary. Nice to see you again, old friend."Every sci-fi has some plot holes and requires suspension of disbelief, but the heavy-handed "Evil Corporation" plot line needs to be retired. Aliens arrive on earth, and a government is going to contract with a private corporation (with its own private army) to manage the population? Spare me. Furthermore, even though these aliens have been removed from their ship, many of them happen to have brought along (smuggled?) what appears to be thousands of alien weapons into District 9. These weapons cannot be used by humans (that's another part of the plot), but one has to wonder whether that would make any difference when herding these aliens off of their ship.
But, anyway... after all this, there's everything to love.
First, no big-name stars. For a summer blockbuster, this is exceptional, and here it's effective. There are some recognizable faces, but by and large District 9 is newcomers and b-list actors. The setting of Johannesburg, South Africa is heightened with a lack of recognizable faces.
Second, uncompromising special effects. Remember Terminator: Salvation a few months back? I still wince at the memory of some of the more mediocre effects. I stayed through the credits of D-9, and it looks as if every major effects studio in the biz had a part in making sure every effect in the film was seamlessly integrated. This has been a problem in film for some time: we've had believable computer animation for over a decade already, but the potential for flawlessness has, shockingly, seldom yielded flawless results. This is one of those seldom results: you will have to remind yourself it's not real. That's as right as SFX get.
Finally, the plot is not stupid or dumbed-down. Once again, this is not to say it's perfect and many of the plot's parallels are simply interesting rather than actually compelling. Apartheid has been over in South Africa for some time. Does dredging this up and proceeding to beat it up really teach anyone a lesson? (Super digression: this is one reason I'm not looking forward to next week's release of Inglourious Basterds: "They're killing Nazis with baseball bats. Haha. That's funny. Because Nazis deserve it! Get it!?" True, but not exactly amusing.) I really don't see the point. Otherwise, it's very well-constructed. Our protagonist acts, I believe, in the way most people would act if put in his situation. He is heroic, but reluctant. And when he finally steps up, it's in a far more plausible way than "Dad quit drinking and flew his fighter jet into the aliens' lazor at the last possible second! We're saved!")
Returning to where I began this review, the freshness of it all, especially after the last few years of summer blockbusters, cannot be denied. Someone actually wrote an original screenplay based only off of his own short film. No novels. No comic books. No "source material." Just in the short life of this blog, it appears every new film review (okay, both of them) suffers from this. I'm tired of comparisons to source material, previous installments, "the original", etc.
Everything's derivative to some extent, but District 9 plays, and well. Breathe that fresh air while you can.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
"OTOH, remakes..." Part 1: Manhunter / Red Dragon
Pardon my juvenile expression, but remakes tend to be giant turd-fests. I've said it before, but it's worth repeating. Recently, while channel surfing, I came across City of Angels. I last saw this when it was still a relatively new film, and long before viewing Wings of Desire (Der Himmel uber Berlin), on which the film is based. Although I did not view City of Angels in its entirety this time around, I'm left with the same conclusion: not bad.
Believe it or not, this is more disturbing to me than a turd-fest! It's an uneasiness, a queasiness... what if they're not as easy to distinguish as "artistic mastperiece" Rollerball (1975) from "why-does-Chris-Klein-secure-roles-thought-there-already-is-a-Keanu-Reeves" Rollerball (2002)? Wings of Desire is far superior to City of Angels, but I cannot not slam the latter in its entirety. It adds enough creative elements of its own to pass muster.
I set out to write a short intro, and next thing I know I'm thinking a post about the distressing New Age spiritual void portrayed by City of Angels is in order. Maybe someday. Today, rather, I start a series of posts on remakes that are not turd-fests, nor merely achieve "not bad." Rather, these remakes are nearly as good as, as good as, or, shockingly, even better, than the originals. I will balance my intense criticism of remakes in general by giving comeuppance to those few gems that pull it off. I don't know how long this series will last or the timing of future installments, but I assure you this will be a series. Ahem. I assure you that at the present time I think this will be a series. Fair enough?
Manhunter (1986)
About the time Miami Vice reached the peak of its popularity, its executive producer Michael Mann returned to the director's chair. He'd already established himself, not merely with Vice but with one of the most underrated films in the crime genre, Thief, a few years previously. Almost a decade later, he'd direct Heat, which is, thankfully, given a place on any respectable top-10 crime films list (on this critic's list it's just below Godfather II and Miller's Crossing). I note these films because, while Heat is treasured and Thief is overlooked, Manhunter is a buried treasure. Why? As near as I can tell, it's for the simple fact that it's a prequel to Silence of the Lambs and features the Hannibal Lecter character, but not Anthony Hopkins.
The "error" was, perhaps, so egregious that the novel Red Dragon was re-adapted in 2002, this time with Hopkins in the role. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
If a Manhunter is a sum of two parts, those two parts are Michael Mann's direction and William Petersen's acting. Mann has perhaps one of the best sets of eyes in Hollywood: even his recent mediocrities like Collateral and the Miami Vice movie were visually perfect (and arguably more fun watched on mute). William Petersen is quickly recognized as Gil Grissom from "CSI", but before striking it big his career was shockingly spotty. Outside of To Live and Die in LA, Manhunter, and the first American production of the play "Glengarry Glen Ross", he was seldom challenged and seldom shined. But when he shines, watch out.
The visuals in Manhunter speak for themselves. Not one shot is wasted. I'd share some samples, but screen capture has become ridiculously difficult these days, and I'm too poor to buy some software. Anyway, see it.
With that, let's begin the William Petersen tribute. Petersen's Will Graham is quite obviously messed up from the beginning of the film. What's his deal? Beautiful wife, son, and a gorgeous house on the beach, yet he's a shell of a man. It takes a special kind of skill, luck or combination to radiate this on screen. Graham is a retired FBI agent who, we learn, captured the notorious serial killer Hannibal Lecter. Now his expertise is needed again to capture a murderer known as The Tooth Fairy.
Graham's investigative methods are fascinating, but creepy. He wanders a crime scene, immersing himself in the killer's perspective, eerily coaxing out the Tooth Fairy's methods and, soon enough, finding cracks that could lead to his identity. By now the audience should figure out what kind of effects this kind of work can have on a man, but we're also sure there's something more. Needed guidance, Graham visits the killer he's already captured, Dr. Lecter, and by now we know the capture of Lecter was not exactly a Frank Columbo-style "gotcha!"
Brian Cox also deserves a deal of credit for his performance as Dr. Lecter. To be sure, Anthony Hopkins is rightfully celebrated for his performance in Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon (I'll viscerate Hannibal in a later tangent), but Cox... whisper it... performs the role with equal skill. Put these to men on opposite sides of the bars and...
Graham's investigation continues, and he teeters. He's afraid to commit because he has not recovered from taking down Lecter. This error endangers his family, and soon enough he's back in Florida hiding them in a safehouse. It's here where we finally get the full story as to exactly what happened to Will Graham when he took Lecter down. We're treated to this as a chat--almost a confrontation--between father and son, once Graham learns his son is afraid of him.This a clever plot device, and it fills in the gaps for the curious, but it also makes it abundantly clear that Graham has a gift, one that we wouldn't wish on anyone. This is not his job, or even his career; it's a calling. Graham is duty-bound to his family as a father, but bound to all the other families out there to stop the Tooth Fairy before he kills again.
The film builds up to a break. I'm happy to say that, despite my spoiler warning, I think I've kept this pretty particular without ruining anything, so the ending is perhaps best left alone. Suffice it to say, Manhunter's qualities abound, and considering many of these were perhaps driven by its less-than-stellar budget, I like it all the more.
Red Dragon (2002)
Hannibal (2001) was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A mess. And this is coming from a Ridley Scott fan, mind you. In short: the Lecter character transcended reality and became as believable as film slasher Michael Myers. The ending featured a series of gross-outs that played right only to the 16-year-olds who snuck into the film. There is no reason to discuss it, much less see it.
Fortunately, the box office for the film brought forth the remade prequel Red Dragon.
Red Dragon had to be distinct from Manhunter: though the latter is a cult film, the producers knew they had to distinguish it. And they had a bigger budget to play with, too. In doing so, they produced a film that stands on its own two feet and, more importantly, makes for a really fun comparison and contrasting. Nevertheless, with its added frills comes some failures.
To begin, Red Dragon does away with the Special Agent Graham / Lecter mystery by showing how Graham took Lecter down at the start of the film. This is a powerful opening, and it's perhaps Hopkins-Lecter at his most terrifying in any of the films. This makes for an easier transition to Graham living on the beach-- honestly, who can blame him?
It is with this opening scene and various others that Red Dragon shines, but the fascination for fans of the original wanes with what's largely unchanged. Although we see Graham meet Lecter immediately in Red Dragon, their encounter once Graham is on the Tooth Fairy's trail is stale. Norton attempts to add emphasis to Graham's lines that Petersen was wise to de-emphasize, and to little effect.
What's most unfortunate about Norton-Graham is that, while given the same lines as Petersen-Graham from Lecter about the traits he shares with serial killers, it's a hard sell. In fact, it's an impossible sell as Red Dragon continues. Lecter is not a minor character in Red Dragon, and where Graham in Manhunter sought out Lecter to "get the scent" back, Norton-Graham returns again, and again, and again. By the time the film reaches its first major climax Norton-Graham is not following the evidence, but simply what Lecter says about the evidence. Norton-Graham is really just along for the ride.
There comes a point where you might have to go be a detective, Graham.
Red Dragon's different approach to The Tooth Fairy, or Francis Dollarhyde, is far more successful. While in Manhunter we're introduced to the Tooth Fairy, ably portrayed by Tom Noonan, the sympathy we feel for the character is minimal. He's disturbed, to be sure, but we're not treated to a serious sense of struggle or, for that matter, to the extent of his insanity. Red Dragon takes the opposite approach: Ralph Fiennes gives us evil, but also conflict and a better look at the twisted fantasy behind his vile acts. Much is owed to Emily Watson, whose Reba McCLane almost unwittingly ends the Tooth Fairy's terror when she falls in love with him. It's a great approach: there are, indeed, those who commit crimes purely from insanity, but Red Dragon is not quite so heavy-handed as to excuse Dollarhyde. We may not sympathize, but we lament his choices.
My final note about Red Dragon is acknowledging its disadvantage: while Manhunter succeeded with a lack of budget, Red Dragon largely succeeded with a lack of direction. To his credit, Brett Ratner gets around as a director, producer, and occasional actor (as of this writing, he has 12 projects listed as "in development" on IMDB). Nevertheless, his track record as a director is dismal outside of Red Dragon. The Rush Hour films are all largely forgettable, and I've long considered The Family Man one of the closest things to cinematic Armageddon. (It is perhaps the total dishonesty of this film that makes City of Angels seem so not-bad.) Certain films with Edward Norton, such as American History X, were allegedly directed-in-fact by Norton himself, and I imagine Norton's influence was pervasive here, too.
All things considered, my preference for Manhunter comes from Graham's resolve. While Edward Norton's Graham ends up feeling sorry for the Tooth Fairy (far more than the audience, I believe), Petersen's is far less forgiving:
Believe it or not, this is more disturbing to me than a turd-fest! It's an uneasiness, a queasiness... what if they're not as easy to distinguish as "artistic mastperiece" Rollerball (1975) from "why-does-Chris-Klein-secure-roles-thought-there-already-is-a-Keanu-Reeves" Rollerball (2002)? Wings of Desire is far superior to City of Angels, but I cannot not slam the latter in its entirety. It adds enough creative elements of its own to pass muster.
I set out to write a short intro, and next thing I know I'm thinking a post about the distressing New Age spiritual void portrayed by City of Angels is in order. Maybe someday. Today, rather, I start a series of posts on remakes that are not turd-fests, nor merely achieve "not bad." Rather, these remakes are nearly as good as, as good as, or, shockingly, even better, than the originals. I will balance my intense criticism of remakes in general by giving comeuppance to those few gems that pull it off. I don't know how long this series will last or the timing of future installments, but I assure you this will be a series. Ahem. I assure you that at the present time I think this will be a series. Fair enough?
Spoiler Warning: You can't do this right without 'em. Deal.
Manhunter (1986)
About the time Miami Vice reached the peak of its popularity, its executive producer Michael Mann returned to the director's chair. He'd already established himself, not merely with Vice but with one of the most underrated films in the crime genre, Thief, a few years previously. Almost a decade later, he'd direct Heat, which is, thankfully, given a place on any respectable top-10 crime films list (on this critic's list it's just below Godfather II and Miller's Crossing). I note these films because, while Heat is treasured and Thief is overlooked, Manhunter is a buried treasure. Why? As near as I can tell, it's for the simple fact that it's a prequel to Silence of the Lambs and features the Hannibal Lecter character, but not Anthony Hopkins.
The "error" was, perhaps, so egregious that the novel Red Dragon was re-adapted in 2002, this time with Hopkins in the role. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
If a Manhunter is a sum of two parts, those two parts are Michael Mann's direction and William Petersen's acting. Mann has perhaps one of the best sets of eyes in Hollywood: even his recent mediocrities like Collateral and the Miami Vice movie were visually perfect (and arguably more fun watched on mute). William Petersen is quickly recognized as Gil Grissom from "CSI", but before striking it big his career was shockingly spotty. Outside of To Live and Die in LA, Manhunter, and the first American production of the play "Glengarry Glen Ross", he was seldom challenged and seldom shined. But when he shines, watch out.
The visuals in Manhunter speak for themselves. Not one shot is wasted. I'd share some samples, but screen capture has become ridiculously difficult these days, and I'm too poor to buy some software. Anyway, see it.
With that, let's begin the William Petersen tribute. Petersen's Will Graham is quite obviously messed up from the beginning of the film. What's his deal? Beautiful wife, son, and a gorgeous house on the beach, yet he's a shell of a man. It takes a special kind of skill, luck or combination to radiate this on screen. Graham is a retired FBI agent who, we learn, captured the notorious serial killer Hannibal Lecter. Now his expertise is needed again to capture a murderer known as The Tooth Fairy.
Graham's investigative methods are fascinating, but creepy. He wanders a crime scene, immersing himself in the killer's perspective, eerily coaxing out the Tooth Fairy's methods and, soon enough, finding cracks that could lead to his identity. By now the audience should figure out what kind of effects this kind of work can have on a man, but we're also sure there's something more. Needed guidance, Graham visits the killer he's already captured, Dr. Lecter, and by now we know the capture of Lecter was not exactly a Frank Columbo-style "gotcha!"
Brian Cox also deserves a deal of credit for his performance as Dr. Lecter. To be sure, Anthony Hopkins is rightfully celebrated for his performance in Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon (I'll viscerate Hannibal in a later tangent), but Cox... whisper it... performs the role with equal skill. Put these to men on opposite sides of the bars and...
I know that I'm not smarter than you.You could cut the tension with a knife. It's a confrontation that trumps any by Jodie Foster (Silence of the Lambs), Julianne Moore (Hannibal) and, as we'll discuss later, Ed Norton.
Then how did you catch me?
You had disadvantages.
What disadvantages?
You're insane.
Graham's investigation continues, and he teeters. He's afraid to commit because he has not recovered from taking down Lecter. This error endangers his family, and soon enough he's back in Florida hiding them in a safehouse. It's here where we finally get the full story as to exactly what happened to Will Graham when he took Lecter down. We're treated to this as a chat--almost a confrontation--between father and son, once Graham learns his son is afraid of him.
What happened?
Well, Lecter was attacking college girls, and he killed them.
How?
In bad ways.
The film builds up to a break. I'm happy to say that, despite my spoiler warning, I think I've kept this pretty particular without ruining anything, so the ending is perhaps best left alone. Suffice it to say, Manhunter's qualities abound, and considering many of these were perhaps driven by its less-than-stellar budget, I like it all the more.
Red Dragon (2002)
Hannibal (2001) was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A mess. And this is coming from a Ridley Scott fan, mind you. In short: the Lecter character transcended reality and became as believable as film slasher Michael Myers. The ending featured a series of gross-outs that played right only to the 16-year-olds who snuck into the film. There is no reason to discuss it, much less see it.
Fortunately, the box office for the film brought forth the remade prequel Red Dragon.
Red Dragon had to be distinct from Manhunter: though the latter is a cult film, the producers knew they had to distinguish it. And they had a bigger budget to play with, too. In doing so, they produced a film that stands on its own two feet and, more importantly, makes for a really fun comparison and contrasting. Nevertheless, with its added frills comes some failures.
To begin, Red Dragon does away with the Special Agent Graham / Lecter mystery by showing how Graham took Lecter down at the start of the film. This is a powerful opening, and it's perhaps Hopkins-Lecter at his most terrifying in any of the films. This makes for an easier transition to Graham living on the beach-- honestly, who can blame him?
It is with this opening scene and various others that Red Dragon shines, but the fascination for fans of the original wanes with what's largely unchanged. Although we see Graham meet Lecter immediately in Red Dragon, their encounter once Graham is on the Tooth Fairy's trail is stale. Norton attempts to add emphasis to Graham's lines that Petersen was wise to de-emphasize, and to little effect.
What's most unfortunate about Norton-Graham is that, while given the same lines as Petersen-Graham from Lecter about the traits he shares with serial killers, it's a hard sell. In fact, it's an impossible sell as Red Dragon continues. Lecter is not a minor character in Red Dragon, and where Graham in Manhunter sought out Lecter to "get the scent" back, Norton-Graham returns again, and again, and again. By the time the film reaches its first major climax Norton-Graham is not following the evidence, but simply what Lecter says about the evidence. Norton-Graham is really just along for the ride.
There comes a point where you might have to go be a detective, Graham.Red Dragon's different approach to The Tooth Fairy, or Francis Dollarhyde, is far more successful. While in Manhunter we're introduced to the Tooth Fairy, ably portrayed by Tom Noonan, the sympathy we feel for the character is minimal. He's disturbed, to be sure, but we're not treated to a serious sense of struggle or, for that matter, to the extent of his insanity. Red Dragon takes the opposite approach: Ralph Fiennes gives us evil, but also conflict and a better look at the twisted fantasy behind his vile acts. Much is owed to Emily Watson, whose Reba McCLane almost unwittingly ends the Tooth Fairy's terror when she falls in love with him. It's a great approach: there are, indeed, those who commit crimes purely from insanity, but Red Dragon is not quite so heavy-handed as to excuse Dollarhyde. We may not sympathize, but we lament his choices.
My final note about Red Dragon is acknowledging its disadvantage: while Manhunter succeeded with a lack of budget, Red Dragon largely succeeded with a lack of direction. To his credit, Brett Ratner gets around as a director, producer, and occasional actor (as of this writing, he has 12 projects listed as "in development" on IMDB). Nevertheless, his track record as a director is dismal outside of Red Dragon. The Rush Hour films are all largely forgettable, and I've long considered The Family Man one of the closest things to cinematic Armageddon. (It is perhaps the total dishonesty of this film that makes City of Angels seem so not-bad.) Certain films with Edward Norton, such as American History X, were allegedly directed-in-fact by Norton himself, and I imagine Norton's influence was pervasive here, too.
All things considered, my preference for Manhunter comes from Graham's resolve. While Edward Norton's Graham ends up feeling sorry for the Tooth Fairy (far more than the audience, I believe), Petersen's is far less forgiving:
As a child, my heart bleeds for him. Someone took a little boy and turned him into a monster. But as an adult... as an adult, he's irredeemable. He butchers whole families to fulfill some sick fantasy. As an adult, I think someone should blow the sick fuck out of his socks.May we all learn something from such an unequivocal limit on sympathy.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Chaos Theory? A Musing on Dude-Wins-Lady in Film. Or something.
I preface this post with the elementary disclaimer that, of course, you shouldn't necessarily mimic what you see on the screen. This is especially true if the movie is called Natural Born Killers. Nevertheless, there are many classical virtues and modern (sadly, malleable) values portrayed in films, some of which we should aim to display in either fantastic or not-so-fantastic situations. Granted, not many of us will get the chance to destroy an alien ship with an explosives-laden biplane before it zaps Area 51, but sacrifice is admirable even in a smaller situation such as, say, in a relationship.
It's unfortunate that virtues like "sacrifice" (or the fortitude behind it), which are good in and of themselves, don't always yield subjectively sweet results. One can be thankful our protagonists did their best, but the end can be a real bear. Take, for example, the smorgasbord of results in films revolving around the age-old theme of falling in love: They don't make movies like Roman Holiday anymore, in which duty supersedes individual happiness, because although some admire Gregory Peck, today's dude is never, ever going to give up Audrey Hepburn without a fight. Perhaps further exploration of notable Dude-Wins-Lady scenarios in film is in order. Or, at least, an attempt at figuring out how we've come so far from the Holiday.
1.) Love Story (1970)
"Love means never having to say your sorry." Gag me. I make no claims to being an expert on love, but this is perhaps the dumbest line in the history of film. I wish there was a way to count how many relationships that otherwise had a chance ended because of this line. Although it makes a few decent attempts to show how privileged kids can weather privileged storms (e.g., disapproving parents and their tired old religion, oh how quaint), the fact that the solution lies in a self-righteous platitude kills this example. Alas, this movie is regarded as a classic in some circles.
2.) Sixteen Candles (1984)
Shifting focus onto an actual dude, there's perhaps no one more aloof in the history of cinema than Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling). The object of Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald)'s desire, men can take away the lesson that the key to a woman's heart is abs, a Porsche 944, a total disregard for our parents' homes (and its furnishings, good grief), and silence. Okay, so Samantha is barely 16 and by the time she made it to college Jake had probably moved on. He's probably living some sort of neuvo-Rabbit lifestyle in Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania these days, and could throw a football over that mountain. Wait a minute, Samantha wins Jake. Wow. This exploration is not going well thus far.
3.) All the Real Girls (2003)
Player falls in love. Player changes for the better. Player gets dumped after being cheated on. This tragedy is far too realistic and I will never watch this movie again, and I'm not even a player. Perhaps love does mean never having to say your sorry, and human nature drives men and women alike to stomp all over significant others just to test the theory, at least until both sides meet their respective match. Maybe Paul Schneider does learn a valuable lesson, but it comes off as so darned nihilistic I just want to puke.
Now that this journey through bad romantic cinema has caused me to take ill, I must make a transition with a clever quotation that also references vomit:
3.) All the Real Girls (2003)
Player falls in love. Player changes for the better. Player gets dumped after being cheated on. This tragedy is far too realistic and I will never watch this movie again, and I'm not even a player. Perhaps love does mean never having to say your sorry, and human nature drives men and women alike to stomp all over significant others just to test the theory, at least until both sides meet their respective match. Maybe Paul Schneider does learn a valuable lesson, but it comes off as so darned nihilistic I just want to puke.
Now that this journey through bad romantic cinema has caused me to take ill, I must make a transition with a clever quotation that also references vomit:
Look, we're gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for this one party, and you're going to say it sucks. And we're all gonna leave and then we're gonna go look for this other party. But all the parties and all the bars, they all suck. I spend half the night talking to some girl who's looking around the room to see if there's somebody else who's more important she should be talking to, and it's like I'm supposed to be all happy 'cause... she's wearing a backpack, you know? And half of them are just nasty skanks who wouldn't be nothing except they're surrounded by a bunch of drunken, horny a**holes. And I'm gonna tell you something , T. Are you listening? I'm not gonna be one of those a**holes. Alright? It just makes me sick. It's like, some nasty skank who isn't half the woman my girlfriend is is gonna front me? It makes me want to f***in' puke!(Censored. For the kids.)
In the end, I hope, a man should just do his best: This is perhaps the reason behind the timelessness of Swingers, High Fidelity, and About Schmidt. If there are answers to the chick flick besides The Dirty Dozen and First Blood, these are surely them. And even if they can be classified as "Male Movies" or what have you, they certainly put every Freddie Prince, Jr. film to shame.
4.)...
No. I'm re-starting this list. You don't put these movies on a list with Love Story. There are rules.
1.) Swingers (1996) (Source of quote above)
Posters for this film adorn college dorm rooms with only slightly less frequency than Scarface, undoubtedly as shrines to Vince Vaughn's timeless portrayal of Trent. I imagine that the ending of the film and the main character, Mikey, escape most young male viewers completely. There's plenty to learn from Trent about confidence and good humor, but there's just as much to be learned from Mikey's resolve and his honest heart. Repeated viewing (and not drunk with your frat brothers) is required. Much like Big Lebowski, this film is one that can be loved and respected even if it has a huge following.
2.) High Fidelity (2000)
In between perhaps the best combination of one-liners and bestowal of new cool onto nerdom ever put on film is John Cusack's opus. Considering this is the man who gave girls Say Anything and The Sure Thing, he probably owed his gender more than we thought he could repay. Thankfully, we were wrong. Rob Gordon's (Cusack's) narration of his lifelong battles with himself (projected onto various women) is poignant and and timeless. Men who can't relate are either (1) Jake Ryan (see #2 on previous list) or (2) Lying. If there was ever a justification for introspection that frequently teeters into narcisism, it's Rob's recognition of his faults and his commitment to be a better man. Furthermore, it's nice to see persistence pay off:
3.) About Schmidt (2002)
4.)...
No. I'm re-starting this list. You don't put these movies on a list with Love Story. There are rules.
1.) Swingers (1996) (Source of quote above)
Posters for this film adorn college dorm rooms with only slightly less frequency than Scarface, undoubtedly as shrines to Vince Vaughn's timeless portrayal of Trent. I imagine that the ending of the film and the main character, Mikey, escape most young male viewers completely. There's plenty to learn from Trent about confidence and good humor, but there's just as much to be learned from Mikey's resolve and his honest heart. Repeated viewing (and not drunk with your frat brothers) is required. Much like Big Lebowski, this film is one that can be loved and respected even if it has a huge following.
2.) High Fidelity (2000)
In between perhaps the best combination of one-liners and bestowal of new cool onto nerdom ever put on film is John Cusack's opus. Considering this is the man who gave girls Say Anything and The Sure Thing, he probably owed his gender more than we thought he could repay. Thankfully, we were wrong. Rob Gordon's (Cusack's) narration of his lifelong battles with himself (projected onto various women) is poignant and and timeless. Men who can't relate are either (1) Jake Ryan (see #2 on previous list) or (2) Lying. If there was ever a justification for introspection that frequently teeters into narcisism, it's Rob's recognition of his faults and his commitment to be a better man. Furthermore, it's nice to see persistence pay off:
Hopefully women love this, too.Laura: I'm too tired not to be with you.
Rob: What, so if you had a bit more energy we'd stay split up, but things being as they are, with you being wiped out and all, you want to get back together? Is that it?
Laura: Yeah.
3.) About Schmidt (2002)
I should preface my discussion of this film with this helpful visual aid from Microsoft Excel:
I'm glad to see we've achieved heights after our rocky start! This post may be setting new standards for the low-brow prong of "High and Low Brow Commentary on Film," but it's late and studying Illinois Civil Practice does strange things to men.
Jack Nicholson, whose films Chinatown and Five Easy Pieces deserve their own respective posts entirely, tops off the top three films all men should see in the realm of dude wins lady because, well, he's a man who loses his wife, and discovers he lost her long before that. About Schmidt takes top honors because Nicholson comes to forgive and to ask forgiveness from those he's wrong and who have wronged him alike; that all men could learn to do his before they grow old. It's nice that in between trash like Anger Management and The Bucket List (yes, I said it. No, it's not a good movie. Stop saying words.) Nicholson managed to make this.
In conclusion (as if I had a thesis to begin with), there are great examples out there of how to be a man in the realm of love and sensitivity. And, please, don't see The Proposal.
Jack Nicholson, whose films Chinatown and Five Easy Pieces deserve their own respective posts entirely, tops off the top three films all men should see in the realm of dude wins lady because, well, he's a man who loses his wife, and discovers he lost her long before that. About Schmidt takes top honors because Nicholson comes to forgive and to ask forgiveness from those he's wrong and who have wronged him alike; that all men could learn to do his before they grow old. It's nice that in between trash like Anger Management and The Bucket List (yes, I said it. No, it's not a good movie. Stop saying words.) Nicholson managed to make this.
In conclusion (as if I had a thesis to begin with), there are great examples out there of how to be a man in the realm of love and sensitivity. And, please, don't see The Proposal.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Terminator: (no) Salvation (for this series)
It's been the better part of two decades since the last good Terminator film, and unfortunately it appears the team behind Terminator Salvation took the disastrous third installment to the series as their benchmark. Alas, while succeeding in making a better film than Rise of the Machines, for seasoned fans it's just not enough.
The best part about the film is that it ignores the conundrums of Rise of the Machines entirely (despite coming from the same team of writers): Judgment Day happened, but there's no need to dwell on it. Unfortunately, following this the film rests on various sci-fi formulas, attempting to mix a fresh cocktail out of old ingredients. The audience is treated to everything from the "disrupting the signal" plotline from Independence Day to a half-hearted run-in with Blade Runner concerning a "human" terminator, and even a taste of "you know what you must do" from the laughable Matrix sequels.
Dismissing all of this in the spirit of holding summer blockbusters to a lower standard (which I've never actually supported), Salvation still fails. The film's first action sequence has all the quality of a video game as far as graphics go, with actors running around a stage spruced up with computer graphics that, I'm sorry to say, just don't convince. Computer-instilled (and actual prop-based) set-dressing does improve as the film goes on, but many of the outdoor sequences contain a haze meant to be fog or smoke, which looks like poor work with the airbrush tool in Photoshop. It's this quality of work that I hope a forthcoming post-apocalyptic film, The Road, avoids.
The problems only continue with McG (the ill-advised working name for Joseph McGinty Nichol) in the director's chair. Boldly announcing his director credit a good few minutes after the rest of the credits have ended, we're treated to sequences we'd expect from a former music video director (for artists including Korn and Cypress Hill) whose major film credits lie with two Charlie's Angels films. That is, helicopter crashes shot from the cockpit viewpoint while the helicopter spins through smoke (it's not really intense when you can't see anything), sticking to claustrophobic close-ups in wide open spaces (the "Private Ryan" effect that J.J. Abrams, among others, have thankfully moved away from), and generally allowing all the silliness that Rise of the Machines used to destroy the series. Of course, "I'll be back" is uttered, along with some other one-liners from the first films ("Come with me if you want to live"), but by this point everyone within earshot in the audience let out sighs. This servesd as a mere reminder that we'd rather have been home watching one of the first two.
Indeed, perhaps the worst part of Salvation is that the future just doesn't seem so bad. Not compared to the tidbits we're given in the first two films, anyway:
Things are so good that mankind apparently now has the option to fight in the war against the machines. While bases are underground, characters can spend days walking around above ground with little to fear. There's even some places so far out from the machines' home base that they've never ventured out "that far." Judgment Day was a nuclear holocaust, and the blue skies that smile on our characters every day should have Greenpeace up in arms. It's no fun to show persons living in the squallor portrayed in the first Terminators, but it would make our heroes that much more heroic if that's what they were fighting against.
Speaking of heroes, Christian Bale is Batman... wait, excuse me, John Connor. After American Psycho we know that Mr. Bale is capable of another kind of American accent, so why did he have to stick with the exact Batman voice? Finally, the cameo by Helena Bonham Carter is unfortunate. If I Am Legend tought the industry anything (aside from making millions in profits from a mediocre film), it's to not cast an actor an in a cameo whose abilities far exceed everyone else in the film (paging un uncredited Emma Thompson...).
Last summer Iron Man had an unfortunate side effect: it was fun summer fare that worked, and it was released in May. Nothing that follow lived up to it (I was not as big a fan of Dark Knight as most), and I fear Star Trek may have set the same high bar for this summer.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Star Trek: Rather Than Review...
But for Seven of Nine, there's nothing missing from this film.Enough has been said about the new Star Trek already. Instead, I'll just throw this out there:
1.) Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
2.) Star Trek (2009)
3.) Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country
4.) Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
5.) Star Trek (1979)
6.) Star Trek III: The Search for Spock
7.) Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
8 - whatever.) The easily forgettable ones with the Next Generation cast.
Oh, sure, this isn't exactly what one could justify as an "update," but it's better than nothing. I've got a bar exam to study for, people. Me and 40,000 other JDs... ugh.
1.) Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
2.) Star Trek (2009)
3.) Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country
4.) Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
5.) Star Trek (1979)
6.) Star Trek III: The Search for Spock
7.) Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
8 - whatever.) The easily forgettable ones with the Next Generation cast.
Oh, sure, this isn't exactly what one could justify as an "update," but it's better than nothing. I've got a bar exam to study for, people. Me and 40,000 other JDs... ugh.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Films (namely, Star Wars) as Cultural Property?
Drawing on my Blade Runner post a few weeks back, one reason the Special Edition Uber Box Set release is cherished by fans is because it includes every popular edition of the film as well as the "Workprint," which was seen only by some very lucky theater-goers (and those who bought a bootleg off one of them) until that point. Even though the DVD with the original Domestic Cut includes a short introduction by Ridley Scott officially disowning the version and saying it's included solely for the fans, at least he respects the fans enough to include it.
Paging George Lucas?
This weekend I had the almost-pleasure to view The Empire Strikes Back on DVD. Never mind that this DVD box set came out in 2004, this was my first viewing. The results give me pause. This is not news, but Lucasfilm tweaked (or, changed) Empire and its fellow originals to fix continuity issues with the new Star Wars trilogy. Again, this is not news-- see the full story of changes here.
Basically, Lucasfilm's Empire Strikes Back now includes a re-do of Darth Vader's communication with Emperor Palpatine from his flagship, Executor via hologram. They used Ian McDiarmid (the actor who played Palpatine in Return of the Jedi and the three prequels) and changed the dialogue:
Paging George Lucas?
This weekend I had the almost-pleasure to view The Empire Strikes Back on DVD. Never mind that this DVD box set came out in 2004, this was my first viewing. The results give me pause. This is not news, but Lucasfilm tweaked (or, changed) Empire and its fellow originals to fix continuity issues with the new Star Wars trilogy. Again, this is not news-- see the full story of changes here.
Basically, Lucasfilm's Empire Strikes Back now includes a re-do of Darth Vader's communication with Emperor Palpatine from his flagship, Executor via hologram. They used Ian McDiarmid (the actor who played Palpatine in Return of the Jedi and the three prequels) and changed the dialogue:
(Decidedly, no longer a woman with creepy superimposed eyes.)This I could handle even though it made me think of the three newer movies, which I can't stand. Far worse--unforgivable, I daresay--is the re-dubbing of Boba Fett's voice. This was also done to bring the entire trilogy in line with Attack of the Clones (Episode 2), which I still haven't actually seen (and likely will not). Anyway, Fett used to sound mean and gruff, and now he sounds like a drunken Cockney tough guy-- oh, all right, he sounds like Temuera Morrison, who played Jango Fett in Clones. Make that "drunken New Zealand tough guy."
I proudly own a Star Wars box set from around 1995, VHS tapes which include the original trilogy "Digitally mastered in THX." Sadly, it's pan-and-scan format, but aside from this and THX restoration it's exactly what the fans saw in 1977, 1980, and 1983, respectively. Does even the new (2006 / 2008) Star Wars box set-- the release of the original trilogy since 1995--treat the originals like the Blade Runner set? Alas, no. Look no further than the user comments on Amazon regarding the recent 2008 release to get the story.
As an aspiring esquire with very limited knowledge of copyright law who considered actually writing a law review article on the subject, I can say that Lucas is well within his rights to do whatever he wants with his trilogy, be it with the content or the release format. Nevertheless, I join legions of fans who are dismayed that with all of its money Lucasfilm refuses to prefectly restore the original trilogy, release it in anamorphic widescreen and, while they're at it, put it out on BluRay.
I can't speak for the law, but the public policy implications are ripe. This appears to be an issue of first impression. We've seen boatloads of "Director's Cuts" and "Special Editions" for over 20 years now (before the home video releases many films, including Fried Green Tomatoes, featured television premieres hyped with "scenes not seen in theaters"); we now have separate releases of "rated" and "unrated" films, some even combined to include both versions on one disc. The (original-)original Star Wars trilogy appears to be, for the moment, the lone victim of suppression.
Of course Lucas can't do anything about my VHS tapes or the old laserdiscs-- this isn't really suppression--he can simply refuse to heed fans' demands for perfection, which is well within his rights. I have a feeling, though, that there's a good argument here for abandonment. Lucas has altered his property, but the original is still there, in the beautiful form he gave fans over twenty years ago. Is there not an argument that this is, in fact, "Cultural Property?" It would be a new frontier; Cultural Property is currently limited to artifacts, monuments, and other artworks (think the Sphinx). This would place the originals in public domain and open the door for other users to get the negative, restore it to better-than-original glory, and make it available to the public.
All right, the capitalists (me included) may break out in hives at the thought, but it seems so, so perverse that I'm willing to make my stand in spite of all slippery slope arguments.
You don't want your kids growing up with Boba Fett from New Zealand, do you?
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Watching the Watchmen
Apologies for the lack of a post over the past few weeks. To begin, it's nice to review a new film for a change. While I haven't made it to critics-only pre-screenings yet, at least I caught Watchmen during opening weekend.
With this, Zack Snyder can, perhaps, join our directorial hat-trick list, slotting in this #3 on the heels of 300 (2006) and Dawn of the Dead (2004). This is a very respectable list, especially notable because all three films originate from well-regarded source material. Dawn of the Dead is a remake of George Romero's 1978 follow-up to his own classic Night of the Living Dead (1968) (catch all that?). Considering Romero's own protege Tom Savini couldn't successfully remake Night (1990), to pull off Dawn as well as Snyder did (on top of it being Snyder's first feature film) was almost miraculous. While Sin City (2005) was well done and certainly star-studded, it hasn't enjoyed the staying power of 300, Snyder's first foray into not just comic books, but comic books from one of the masters, Frank Miller.
After reading the Watchmen graphic novel (read: a 12 comic book series bound into one volume) for the first time just last June, when the trailer for the film dropped with The Dark Knight over the summer I was enthused, but anxious. Watchmen is the most influential comic book ever created. (I highly recommend The Dark Knight Returns and the first 12 issues of American Flagg! as well, but I digress.) Its narrative, complexity and delightful tangents are, taken as a whole, nothing short of intimidating (but in a good way). Snyder is a gifted director, but when directors none other than Terry Gilliam (no slouch when it comes to difficult adaptations) have judged a work "unfilmable," it's no insult to suspect he may have bit off more than he could chew.
Thankfully, my fears did not come true. Entirely.
As a director, once again Snyder has proved his worth. He has taken a classic and translated it seamlessly to the big screen. I will not be slobbering all over this film; I do have reservations, but it is a noble cinematic effort which I believe deserves far more praise than popcorn fare like The Dark Knight.
At 163 minutes this is a long film, but it only misses its pace on a few occasions. Having seen the film after reading the novel, I knew what was coming and looked forward to it, and was most often impressed with the execution. If only for purposes of time, rewrites, and subtractions and additions to dialogue were necessary, and mostly well-done. Joe Morgenstern's review in the Wall Street Journal rightfully blasts some lines such as "I'm not a comic-book villain," but I daresay he's nitpicking. The action is intense, however quite graphic (another trademark for all three of Snyder's feature films), but interesting and well-choreographed. I believed for a time after Matrix Reloaded that Hollywood had completely lost it with fight scenes, but with Watchmen and 300 Snyder's ensured they're alive and well. The mis en scene is outstanding, and I have nothing but respect for the costume designers, set designers and other assorted crew who put this together.
The acting varies. Fortunately, Jackie Earle Haley is perfect as Rorschach, arguably the story's main character. Especially when he's unmasked, Haley brings to life a very disturbed man who, while I don't want to be his friend, draws some respect for his uncompromising nature. Billy Crudup is almost as good as Dr. Manhattan, but in his more sensitive moments I couldn't help but think of Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, Spider-Man's civilian side. Patrick Wilson is good as Nite Owl, but he shares many scenes with Malin Akerman who, I'm sorry to say, has a ways to go.
Snyder's, and the film's, boldest trademark is Snyder's fearless use of popular music. This should be no surprise: for the opening credits of Dawn of the Dead he selected "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, and it's amazing. In Watchmen, we're treated to Simon & Garfunkel, Jimmi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, etc., and all to great effect.
I cap the good aspects of this film with the music because it's one of the few things that truly separates Watchmen from its source material. Floating at a meager score of 56/100 on metacritic at the time of this post, this is the quandary many critics, myself included, face with the film: why? Is there a point where a translation is done so effectively that it becomes meaningless or even insulting? Of course, there's no satisfying the entire audience: too much creative license would have drawn equally (if not more) powerful wrath from those crying "sacrilege!" But this only dodges the question.
To be sure, Watchmen is treading into charted but not-as-of-yet mastered territory: parallel media. The comic is so dense with material, nothing short of a 13-hour mini-series would have brought it all to the screen. So, soon enough we'll have an animated version of Tales of the Black Freighter to supplement the film. Tales is an excellent parallel narrative in the comic. This kind of multi-pronged storytelling hasn't worked out well thus far: Star Wars: The Clone Wars opened in theaters last year to launch a television series without much success. Far less successfully, though, Richard Kelly's disaster Southland Tales is actually the last three chapters in a six-chapter story, the first three chapters being comic books very few people purchased (guilty). But where these films were producing fresh material in various forms, Watchmen seeks to preserve an old story in a new form. David Edelstein may be right: "This kind of reverence kills what it seeks to preserve."
This nagging feeling combines with my biggest critique of Watchmen as a film and as a graphic novel. For all of the criticism that may be directed toward the film, it strikes me that the heavy-handedness, the "there is no hope" message of Watchmen is rather over-the-top. To be sure, Rorschach (and, perhaps, all his "reactionary" faults?) has the last laugh, but this seems to pale in light of the story's climax. Both Tales of the Black Freighter and the main narrative in Watchmen give off disturbing support of... well, inaction? We have two stories which show that the pursuance of good, or the best intentions, can be corrupted with evil means. This is a tragedy as old as man, but the film and the novel alike seem to sigh at this with an all-encompassing "oh, well." Whether one fights evil means uncompromisingly as Rorschach does or pursues good ends with those evil means as Ozymandias, it seems that "All's Well that Ends Well." Sure, there's a glimmer of humor and hope in the closing of the story, but is this a little too little too late?
Unlike No Country for Old Men, a film and book with dastardliness I defend as a call to arms, Watchmen ultimately strikes me with a call to do nothing: if greater forces are at work, there's no stopping them. I won't settle for this.
In conclusion, I suppose I've learned in this post why I'd never make for a good movie reviewer on the clock: I need time to digest this stuff. Often, lots of it. Blade Runner, that film I gave a whole post to a few weeks back? I hated it the first time I saw it. Perhaps someday I'll have some conclusions for all the questions I've raised with Watchmen. But, indeed, while I have plenty of criticism to level at it, Watchmen is a very thought-provoking and expertly executed film that I encourage moviegoers to see.
I'll end almost as I began: this isn't The Dark Knight, and I mean that as a compliment.
With this, Zack Snyder can, perhaps, join our directorial hat-trick list, slotting in this #3 on the heels of 300 (2006) and Dawn of the Dead (2004). This is a very respectable list, especially notable because all three films originate from well-regarded source material. Dawn of the Dead is a remake of George Romero's 1978 follow-up to his own classic Night of the Living Dead (1968) (catch all that?). Considering Romero's own protege Tom Savini couldn't successfully remake Night (1990), to pull off Dawn as well as Snyder did (on top of it being Snyder's first feature film) was almost miraculous. While Sin City (2005) was well done and certainly star-studded, it hasn't enjoyed the staying power of 300, Snyder's first foray into not just comic books, but comic books from one of the masters, Frank Miller.
After reading the Watchmen graphic novel (read: a 12 comic book series bound into one volume) for the first time just last June, when the trailer for the film dropped with The Dark Knight over the summer I was enthused, but anxious. Watchmen is the most influential comic book ever created. (I highly recommend The Dark Knight Returns and the first 12 issues of American Flagg! as well, but I digress.) Its narrative, complexity and delightful tangents are, taken as a whole, nothing short of intimidating (but in a good way). Snyder is a gifted director, but when directors none other than Terry Gilliam (no slouch when it comes to difficult adaptations) have judged a work "unfilmable," it's no insult to suspect he may have bit off more than he could chew.Thankfully, my fears did not come true. Entirely.
As a director, once again Snyder has proved his worth. He has taken a classic and translated it seamlessly to the big screen. I will not be slobbering all over this film; I do have reservations, but it is a noble cinematic effort which I believe deserves far more praise than popcorn fare like The Dark Knight.
At 163 minutes this is a long film, but it only misses its pace on a few occasions. Having seen the film after reading the novel, I knew what was coming and looked forward to it, and was most often impressed with the execution. If only for purposes of time, rewrites, and subtractions and additions to dialogue were necessary, and mostly well-done. Joe Morgenstern's review in the Wall Street Journal rightfully blasts some lines such as "I'm not a comic-book villain," but I daresay he's nitpicking. The action is intense, however quite graphic (another trademark for all three of Snyder's feature films), but interesting and well-choreographed. I believed for a time after Matrix Reloaded that Hollywood had completely lost it with fight scenes, but with Watchmen and 300 Snyder's ensured they're alive and well. The mis en scene is outstanding, and I have nothing but respect for the costume designers, set designers and other assorted crew who put this together.
The acting varies. Fortunately, Jackie Earle Haley is perfect as Rorschach, arguably the story's main character. Especially when he's unmasked, Haley brings to life a very disturbed man who, while I don't want to be his friend, draws some respect for his uncompromising nature. Billy Crudup is almost as good as Dr. Manhattan, but in his more sensitive moments I couldn't help but think of Tobey Maguire as Peter Parker, Spider-Man's civilian side. Patrick Wilson is good as Nite Owl, but he shares many scenes with Malin Akerman who, I'm sorry to say, has a ways to go.
Snyder's, and the film's, boldest trademark is Snyder's fearless use of popular music. This should be no surprise: for the opening credits of Dawn of the Dead he selected "The Man Comes Around" by Johnny Cash, and it's amazing. In Watchmen, we're treated to Simon & Garfunkel, Jimmi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, etc., and all to great effect.
I cap the good aspects of this film with the music because it's one of the few things that truly separates Watchmen from its source material. Floating at a meager score of 56/100 on metacritic at the time of this post, this is the quandary many critics, myself included, face with the film: why? Is there a point where a translation is done so effectively that it becomes meaningless or even insulting? Of course, there's no satisfying the entire audience: too much creative license would have drawn equally (if not more) powerful wrath from those crying "sacrilege!" But this only dodges the question.
To be sure, Watchmen is treading into charted but not-as-of-yet mastered territory: parallel media. The comic is so dense with material, nothing short of a 13-hour mini-series would have brought it all to the screen. So, soon enough we'll have an animated version of Tales of the Black Freighter to supplement the film. Tales is an excellent parallel narrative in the comic. This kind of multi-pronged storytelling hasn't worked out well thus far: Star Wars: The Clone Wars opened in theaters last year to launch a television series without much success. Far less successfully, though, Richard Kelly's disaster Southland Tales is actually the last three chapters in a six-chapter story, the first three chapters being comic books very few people purchased (guilty). But where these films were producing fresh material in various forms, Watchmen seeks to preserve an old story in a new form. David Edelstein may be right: "This kind of reverence kills what it seeks to preserve."
This nagging feeling combines with my biggest critique of Watchmen as a film and as a graphic novel. For all of the criticism that may be directed toward the film, it strikes me that the heavy-handedness, the "there is no hope" message of Watchmen is rather over-the-top. To be sure, Rorschach (and, perhaps, all his "reactionary" faults?) has the last laugh, but this seems to pale in light of the story's climax. Both Tales of the Black Freighter and the main narrative in Watchmen give off disturbing support of... well, inaction? We have two stories which show that the pursuance of good, or the best intentions, can be corrupted with evil means. This is a tragedy as old as man, but the film and the novel alike seem to sigh at this with an all-encompassing "oh, well." Whether one fights evil means uncompromisingly as Rorschach does or pursues good ends with those evil means as Ozymandias, it seems that "All's Well that Ends Well." Sure, there's a glimmer of humor and hope in the closing of the story, but is this a little too little too late?
Unlike No Country for Old Men, a film and book with dastardliness I defend as a call to arms, Watchmen ultimately strikes me with a call to do nothing: if greater forces are at work, there's no stopping them. I won't settle for this.
In conclusion, I suppose I've learned in this post why I'd never make for a good movie reviewer on the clock: I need time to digest this stuff. Often, lots of it. Blade Runner, that film I gave a whole post to a few weeks back? I hated it the first time I saw it. Perhaps someday I'll have some conclusions for all the questions I've raised with Watchmen. But, indeed, while I have plenty of criticism to level at it, Watchmen is a very thought-provoking and expertly executed film that I encourage moviegoers to see.
I'll end almost as I began: this isn't The Dark Knight, and I mean that as a compliment.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Hat-Tricks
When Richard Kelly followed up Donnie Darko with Southland Tales, I think a good number of us wept. Tears of joy they were not. Every director, every director, has an off year. In that year, the director will make a film that is not up to snuff. It happens.
But rather than dwell on a director's missteps or outright failures, I like to admire directors for their hot streaks. When a director gets in the groove and creates a series of films that are all worthy of classic status, for me the overall accomplishment raises the value of each respective film. Perhaps it's a bit of an overly macho analogy, but in the game of filmmaking a hat-trick is not easy, and those who pull it off are usually MVPs.
My Nominations:But rather than dwell on a director's missteps or outright failures, I like to admire directors for their hot streaks. When a director gets in the groove and creates a series of films that are all worthy of classic status, for me the overall accomplishment raises the value of each respective film. Perhaps it's a bit of an overly macho analogy, but in the game of filmmaking a hat-trick is not easy, and those who pull it off are usually MVPs.
Ridley Scott (naturally): The Duellists (1977), Alien (1979), Blade Runner (1982)
Stanley Kubrick: Lolita (1962), Dr. Strangelove (1964), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Stanley Kubrick (again!): A Clockwork Orange (1971), Barry Lyndon (1975), The Shining (1980)
Akira Kurosawa: Yojimbo (1961), Sanjuro (1962), High and Low (1963)
Terry Gilliam: Brazil (1985), The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988), The Fisher King (1991)1
Alexander Payne: Election (1999)2, About Schmidt (2002), Sideways (2004)
Alfred Hitchcock: Vertigo (1958), North by Northwest (1959), Psycho (1960)
Francis Ford Coppola: The Godfather (1972), The Conversation (1974), The Godfather, Part II (1974)
Peter Weir: Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), The Last Wave (1977), Gallipoli (1981)
Joel Coen: Blood Simple (1984), Raising Arizona (1987), Miller's Crossing (1990)
George Lucas3: THX 1138 (1971), American Graffiti (1973), Star Wars (1977)
John McTiernan: Predator (1987), Die Hard (1988), The Hunt for Red October (1990)
1 Okay, this is a stretch, but...
2 Go ahead, throw down the gauntlet; I will fight for this film.
3 "Sub-question: is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins? Is it better to burn out or fade away?" -Barry, High Fidelity
I open this discussion to the world and my fellow posters. Does my argument have any merit at all? If so, who else has a bona fide hat-trick?
Monday, February 9, 2009
Blade Runner: Yes, It's That Awesome.
In the past, too often I danced around the question "What's your favorite movie?" I think I was trying to sound clever by refusing to answer. I'd usually launch into a long speech about Fellini, Kurosawa, Kubrick, Hitchcock, and sprinkle in a few moderns like Kar Wai Wong and Ridley Scott so as not to sound like an old fart. By the time I was through, I'd have named about 20 films, 19 of which the average questioner had not seen, and all 19 of which he or she would not likely remember.
Not only was such snobbery, well, snobbish, it was also a lie.
My favorite film is Blade Runner.
Oh, to dwell among a class of internet fanboys and girls so large it's practically bourgeoisie! Well, if what's popular is seldom beautiful, that does not mean it never is.
And, indeed, while Blade Runner has gained a lot of ground (well beyond mere cult following) since 1982, there's still plenty of people out there who haven't seen it. Nay, experienced it. When it came time for my yearly viewing (a right only matched by Rear Window), I decided to devote a post to it. Last year is nearly impossible to top: I had three friends over, none of whom had seen the film, a brand new copy of the Final Cut DVD (only a few months old at that point), and an '84 Bordeaux which is, incidentally, the year I was born. (No, '84 was not a legendary year, for Bordeaux, but drinking wine that old is never not fun. Unless it's turned to vinegar.) How could I top this? An '82 something (the year of BR's original release), one special lady who hasn't seen it, a Blu-Ray copy, and some serious making out afterward would probably do it. Seeing as I'm a guy who's blogging about Blade Runner, this will probably require an Act of God. Here's praying.
No, this year is all yours, you who read this. Fans will nod and hopefully appreciate my insights, which are available at least 442 other places on the World Wide Web in all written languages. But maybe, just maybe, someone will read this who has not yet seen this masterpiece. Likely this person has heard of Blade Runner before and has told him or herself that they've really got to get around to it. Perhaps it's on the Netflix or Blockbuster queue, but keeps getting bumped for recents like There Will Be Blood or, heaven forbid, Doomsday. Finally, after reading my words, should this person will act, it will have all been worth it.
But, please, don't stop there: see it. Don't ask about it, don't talk about it, just let it set for awhile. A few months or maybe a year later, watch it again. Everyone's heard that about a movie before, but trust me, this is the one. Once is never enough. This was probably my 70th viewing.
NOTE: Those concerned about spoilers should avoid the sections on "The Themes" and "The Confusion."
The Visuals:My favorite film is Blade Runner.
Oh, to dwell among a class of internet fanboys and girls so large it's practically bourgeoisie! Well, if what's popular is seldom beautiful, that does not mean it never is.
And, indeed, while Blade Runner has gained a lot of ground (well beyond mere cult following) since 1982, there's still plenty of people out there who haven't seen it. Nay, experienced it. When it came time for my yearly viewing (a right only matched by Rear Window), I decided to devote a post to it. Last year is nearly impossible to top: I had three friends over, none of whom had seen the film, a brand new copy of the Final Cut DVD (only a few months old at that point), and an '84 Bordeaux which is, incidentally, the year I was born. (No, '84 was not a legendary year, for Bordeaux, but drinking wine that old is never not fun. Unless it's turned to vinegar.) How could I top this? An '82 something (the year of BR's original release), one special lady who hasn't seen it, a Blu-Ray copy, and some serious making out afterward would probably do it. Seeing as I'm a guy who's blogging about Blade Runner, this will probably require an Act of God. Here's praying.
No, this year is all yours, you who read this. Fans will nod and hopefully appreciate my insights, which are available at least 442 other places on the World Wide Web in all written languages. But maybe, just maybe, someone will read this who has not yet seen this masterpiece. Likely this person has heard of Blade Runner before and has told him or herself that they've really got to get around to it. Perhaps it's on the Netflix or Blockbuster queue, but keeps getting bumped for recents like There Will Be Blood or, heaven forbid, Doomsday. Finally, after reading my words, should this person will act, it will have all been worth it.
But, please, don't stop there: see it. Don't ask about it, don't talk about it, just let it set for awhile. A few months or maybe a year later, watch it again. Everyone's heard that about a movie before, but trust me, this is the one. Once is never enough. This was probably my 70th viewing.
NOTE: Those concerned about spoilers should avoid the sections on "The Themes" and "The Confusion."
I rest my case.Even those who can't stand Blade Runner (and there are some) appreciate that it's a visual milestone. Even today, amped up to the highest possible Blue-Ray resolution, despite the technological limitations of the early 80's, it's gorgeous. Today it's computers and green screens, but for some reason I savor the production value of sets, modelwork and matte paintings. Computer animation has come a long way, and it's certainly more cost effective, but I daresay it still does not live up to the work done on Blade Runner (or even 2001, but that's another post). This just looks real.
I'm the last person to let a shoddy movie get a pass because it looks perfect (this is why I can't recommend either of Terrence Malick's most recent films), but this comes close. And, fortunately, it has far more to offer.
The Music:I'm the last person to let a shoddy movie get a pass because it looks perfect (this is why I can't recommend either of Terrence Malick's most recent films), but this comes close. And, fortunately, it has far more to offer.
Vangelis, king of the synthesizer. While the instrument is quintessentially 80's, this is not Flock of Seagulls. Like Vangelis's most famous score, Chariots of Fire (which takes place in 1924), Blade Runner's score transcends the time of its production. Combined with the visual style of Blade Runner, one hears exactly what one sees. This is the only score I have on CD.
The Story:Los Angeles, November 2019: Rick Deckard is a blade runner who's quit the police force. Blade runners track down and terminate renegade replicants--genetically engineered beings--which are illegal on Earth. Deckard is divorced and has a drinking problem. It's never explained why Deckard quit, got divorced or developed said drinking problem (or whether it occurred in that order), but it's likely his conscience started to bother him as Replicants became more and more human. Replicants are not machines: if you prick them, they bleed.
Roy Batty, Leon, Pris and Zhora are a band of replicants that escape to earth from off-world colonies. They're all the most advanced model, Nexus-6. Replicants are faster, stronger, and often more intelligent than the average human, but lack human emotions (they presumably begin their lives as adults). To prevent them from developing their own emotions, replicants are designed to live only four years. While emotionally undeveloped, this band of replicants is angry with this situation and seeks out a cure to their "accelerated decrepitude" from their manufacturer the Tyrell Corporation, headed by Dr. Eldon Tyrell.
After blade runner David Holden is nearly killed by Leon, Deckard is brought back to the force to track down and "retire" these Replicants. Along the way, he meets and falls in love with a special Nexus-6 replicant, Rachael, who has artificial memories which give her more human emotions. Deckard performs most of his duties, however sloppily, and ends up at the mercy of Roy Batty in a very dramatic climax.
Roy Batty, Leon, Pris and Zhora are a band of replicants that escape to earth from off-world colonies. They're all the most advanced model, Nexus-6. Replicants are faster, stronger, and often more intelligent than the average human, but lack human emotions (they presumably begin their lives as adults). To prevent them from developing their own emotions, replicants are designed to live only four years. While emotionally undeveloped, this band of replicants is angry with this situation and seeks out a cure to their "accelerated decrepitude" from their manufacturer the Tyrell Corporation, headed by Dr. Eldon Tyrell.
After blade runner David Holden is nearly killed by Leon, Deckard is brought back to the force to track down and "retire" these Replicants. Along the way, he meets and falls in love with a special Nexus-6 replicant, Rachael, who has artificial memories which give her more human emotions. Deckard performs most of his duties, however sloppily, and ends up at the mercy of Roy Batty in a very dramatic climax.
The Themes:
A simple enough plot (made moreso by thousands of immitators) opens a can of worms, or more like a cupboard full of cans of worms. As science advances and cloning becomes a reality, the ethical dilemmas of Blade Runner continue to ripen: who is man to create intelligent life? Is such life artificial? Is such life inferior? Is such, life? Does man thereby destroy God? Does man become God? Will God allow this to happen?
A simple enough plot (made moreso by thousands of immitators) opens a can of worms, or more like a cupboard full of cans of worms. As science advances and cloning becomes a reality, the ethical dilemmas of Blade Runner continue to ripen: who is man to create intelligent life? Is such life artificial? Is such life inferior? Is such, life? Does man thereby destroy God? Does man become God? Will God allow this to happen?
Rick Deckard is quintessential anti-hero of the future: He believes what he's doing is wrong, but does it anyway while numbing his mind and body with Johnnie Walker and a variety of other hard liquors. While seemingly reflective, he mechanically draws his blaster upon sight of a "skin job." He's not very sporting about it, either. He falls for Rachael, but her reluctance leads to what would probably amount to rape if Rachael were human. And while the Replicants are a deadly, evil band ready to kill to extend their own lifespans, who put them in this situation?
"Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave."
The most important twist is that Deckard's redemption--or at least his chance at it--is made possible by the redemption of Roy Batty. While Pris teasingly says "I think, therefore I am" at one point, Batty, a replicant, shows the first and perhaps only sign of highest humanity in the film: He loves, and therefore he is. With one word, "Kinship!" he saves Deckard's life when he most assuredly deserves to die.
The Confusion (which leads to more Themes!):
Since the release of the Director's Cut in 1992, when Ridley Scott added the famous unicorn dream sequence (you'll also see it in the Final Cut (2007)), it's obvious that Scott's intention was for Deckard to be a replicant himself. Indeed, if Rachael isn't the only experimental replicant, it's conceivable that with fake memories Deckard could go about daily life without even a hint of his identity (or lack thereof). I concede entirely to Scott's authority--it's his movie--but nevertheless fall in favor of Deckard's humanness. It's too nihilistic for Batty's act of selfless love to fall upon a fellow replicant: instead of a "fake" human showing a "real" human what humans should be, the story becomes ironic. Beneath Blade Runner, one of the darkest films ever made, I prefer to see a glimmer of hope: If Roy Batty and Rick Deckard can be redeemed, then surely mankind as a whole can as well. Not, however, if we've replaced God with ourselves.
The Harrison Ford:
In its original release in the summer of 1982, Blade Runner flopped. It came out in the same month as the sci-fi classic Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (arguably the best of the series) and E.T., neither of which are as popular today but both of which rocked box offices. Looking at the original poster for the film, with the tagline "Man has made his match... now it's his problem," one easily gets the impression that BR was marketed to the same audience. Even the original trailer portrays a film far sleeker and sexier than the dreery final product. One should also consider that this was almost one year to the day after Raiders of the Lost Ark and just a year before Return of the Jedi. When one heard "Harrison Ford," one thought only of Han Solo and Indiana Jones; the world wasn't ready for Rick Deckard, and it certainly wasn't ready for Blade Runner.
Alas, Harrison Ford took it as a black eye. Not only was the film a flop, but work on the set was tumultuous (the book Future Noir, by Paul M. Sammon, tells the fascinating story behind BR's production). Ford seldom had anything to say about the film--and then it wasn't very friendly--and until the release of the Final Cut in late 2007, the fans believed it would stay that way. Fortunately, twenty five years later, Ford buried the hatchet.
And rightfully so. Ranking Ford's best roles, I say the following: (1) John Book in Witness (1985), (2) Allie Fox in The Mosquito Coast (1986), and (3) Rick Deckard in Blade Runner (1982). Leave it to Peter Weir to bring the best out of Ford (he directed the first two), but Ridley Scott came close. Having all but quit acting entirely (has Ford even tried since Clear and Present Danger (1994)?) and approaching the latter part of his life, we can appreciate that Ford had the chops for serious roles as well as popcorn flicks. This film is a landmark for many reasons, not the least of which being that it is the earliest of Ford's gutsy roles.
The Ridley Scott:
Dear Sir Ridley,
Please make great films again.
Thanks,
-Steve
This was the final film in Scott's hat-trick. He has not made a film even close to Blade Runner, much less Alien or The Duellists. Yes, even Gladiator, while quite good, doesn't cut it. Nevertheless, without this man's eye and, furthermore, his resolve, this film would never have been made. Ridley may be forgiven for his recurring sins, everything from G.I. Jane to Body of Lies, because we have proof that beneath the man who's giving us mediocrity there does live a master craftsman, and we should continue to let him work in hopes he will someday succeed again.
And, considering his two greatest masterpieces are science fiction, Ridley may soon have the chance: he's recently been tied to the screen adaptation of Brave New World.
The Extras:
With the release of the Final Cut briefcase in late 2007, the dreams of fans the world over were realized. You have (1) The original 1982 domestic release, (2) The 1982 international release (3) The 1992 Director's Cut, (4) the 1982 workprint (which, outside of a sneak previews in Dallas and Denver before the summer of '82, was only seen previously by a few lucky moviegoers at theaters that accidentally received the cut from Warner Bros. throughout the 1990's), and finally (5) the 2007 Final Cut. Throw in hours upon hours of interviews, never-before-seen deleted scenes and documentaries... it was worth the wait. I'm still digesting it over a year later.
Yes, there are differences between these versions, some major (the original domestic and international release actually includes narration by Harrison Ford, which is interesting but ultimately awful) and some minor (added violence), but for a first viewing the Final Cut is outstanding. Not only did the DVD producers put their hearts and souls into making sure everything that could possibly be put in was put in, they also restored the cut to perfection. The fruits of perfect restoration are seldom this delicious.
So soak up the dream. It's okay to drool. This is, after all, one of the greatest films ever made.
The "You're So Not Going to Make Out With Me, Dream Woman" conundrum:
Of course it's just a fantasy. Couples don't make out after Blade Runner...
...or do they?
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