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Following the popular art class thread of Ghost World, Terry Zwigoff & Daniel Clowes show there's nothing Jerome (Max Minghella), an aspiring 21st century Picasso, can learn from the talentless, clueless, and pretentious clowns that populate art school. They claim to be non-conformists, but are nothing more than various rebel cliches who try to ride the coattails of their click's in thing, which is not nearly as different from DUD culture as it used to be, and hardly less derivative. Cynical condescending tongue in cheek humor is present in abundance, the truth or Zwigoff & Clowes' version of it, coming across as a satirical parody. A very dark comedy from two people who seem to have a very low opinion of humanity, this time even their main character isn't meant to be different. Jerome has some skill as an illustrator, but lacks an ounce of originality, so he's basically just doing variations on whomever he feels like copying, and as such is meant to constantly disappoint us. The cliches are the basis of the comedy, and much of the film is simply discovering which cliche Jerome is. This naive virginal character thinks he's taking the fast track by imitating the juvenile painting "style" of Jonah (Matt Keeslar), purposely the least gifted and qualified "artist" of the bunch since he's actually an undercover cop infiltrating the asylum to investigate the serial killings. Jerome figures it'll get him praised too, and thus he'll gain prestige and the "love" of nude model for hire Audrey Baumgarten (Sophia Myles). This is a very ironic film that's as notable for what's excluded as included. For instance, Jerome is unable to consummate his relationship with Audrey even though she's slept with seemingly every man and woman she thought might help her. The more Jerome tries to garner praise the harder his failings are for him to take, but his desperate descent over what we are meant to see as nothing worthwhile is too far too fast. What Jerome learns is the best art goes unnoticed, and whatever is praised gets credit for the wrong reasons. John Malkovich is good as the determined teacher who spent 25 years "perfecting" images that look like they were stolen from the geometry chapter of a middle school math book, wearily earning the paychecks that allow him to continue down the road to nowhere. For the most part the rest of the performances are nothing special, but it doesn't make a huge difference since the stereotypical wannabes are purposely as thin and dimensionless as possible. Several of the twists are unearned, but you have to accept that none of the characters are meant to be likeable. They are all pathetic and inept, destined to never even merit the designation of has beens. [4/15/07] ***
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A supplemental film culled from the vast library of early '70's Beales footage the Maysles brothers shot that didn't make the cut of what went on to become arguably the most popular cinema verite documentary ever. Albert Maysles provides little context and background, assuming you've seen Grey Gardens and comprehend that the Beales are trying to tell their story to clear up some of the misunderstandings about them. As always, those who listened heard what they wanted and some choose to see them in a better light, others worse. Basically you'll relate to them, laugh at them, be horrified by them, and/or think they are pathetic wastes of privilege. Actually, some thought Little Edie was insane, with even The New York Times refusing to print her rebuttal to their pathetic movie review because she was "schizophrenic". Probably anyone who hasn't succeeded sounds like a nut when they try to explain why, but while Little Edie is delusional about certain things like anyone else, her philosophizing shows she understands people fairly well. This comprehension makes her not like them very much - even though she wishes she did/could - because they are always judging her in a negative light. She feels alone with or without them because she's different, but rather than accept that they want her to be the same. Little Edie alternates between proud non-conformist defiance and sad, sometimes bitter, regret. Overall, Beales is drearier than the original because the different sides of their personality on display tend to show their longing. Spending another 90 minutes with the Beales makes them a lot more human. The result, as always, is they become less fascinating because you can't project your hopes and desires onto them as much, but you can make a better decision on whether you like them or not. The main problem with this film is the circumstances under which it was made, both Beales and David Maysles are dead, so there isn't much possibility for updating. As a collection of "lost" outtakes, a lot of this footage is precious, but it's clear much of the footage was scrapped because it didn't work with the whole. Albert includes a lot of footage originally cut because the Maysles wanted to minimize their own involvement, which reveals Little Edie was constantly flirting with, and possibly in love with, both of them. She did whatever she could to entertain them and hold their interest, which as always shows why documentary isn't reality, but at the same time this prompts her to reveal many things that would otherwise be avoided as well as bringing out the lonely and vulnerable sides of her. He also goes in a few new directions that are coherent and cohesive, such as showing how Big Edie's fawning over handyman Jerry makes Little Edie jealous, but many of the other segments are random. It's a whole lot better than watching a bunch of extras cobbled onto a bonus disk, but it certainly lacks the flow, rhythm, and continuity of the original. Beales isn't the follow up you were truly hoping for, but it's the only chance Grey Gardens fans will ever get to see more of the real thing. [2/18/07] ***
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Many people from Martin Scorsese's generation grew up with their literal and extended family (their same nationality neighbors), but with families frayed and races no longer together in little neighborhoods (and mixed) modern man is searching for identity. Loyalty has eroded, but young men still search for a father figure and look for traditional associations as nothing has replaced them, the mob going by race and the authority by type, creating similar rivalries among factions. The characters are loners even though they are usually with the same people, who are merely their coworkers. In a world of corporate detachment, everyone is a pawn. They do what they are good at; it's their life until they lose it. If there is no family or friendship is there any real betrayal? There are half a dozen stars (we are still stuck with Leo but he isn't given the opportunity to crash this one) but no stars, The Departed purposely lacks a center and any moral fiber. It's a completely empty world where there's no difference between cop and robber to the point neither can tell one from the other. Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is the good bad character infiltrating the Irish mob while looking up to Police Captain Queenan (Martin Sheen). His doppelganger Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) is the bad good character infiltrating the police force while looking up to Irish mob hot shot Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson). Everyone wants power, believes in something to go on, and trusts a few people because they are stuck. Scorsese is forced to include a token woman, and this love interest for the doppelgangers is a chauvinistic plot device whose purpose is to show their similarities, but Vera Farmiga actually manages to turn it into as close as the film gets to a profound character. She extends the premise as she's the only one that isn't slotted in the law or mob hierarchy, but she's damaged like the men and her headshrinker job also forces her to always act the opposite. There's something to the premise, but it makes the characters shallow and the film essentially maneuvering the pieces. The game is cleverly played, and Scorsese's complete detachment combined with a certain amount of distaste for the entire milieu yields unpredictability since the characters interchangeability equates to disposability. This is far from Scorsese's best, but it starts at the top of a mountain and consistently builds momentum, never swaying or veering, all the way to the conclusion(s). The film should seem overly scripted and manipulative, but Thelma Schoonmaker's cross and match cutting and Michael Balhaus' precise but ever shifting framing helps trick you into accepting even the most unbelievable scenes. Nicholson basically does a world-weary version of his Joker act; his #2 man Ray Winstone is the one that actually understands how to be a menacing villain. Alec Baldwin blows away Marky Mark's one-note performance. Marky is the same demeaning foul-mouthed hothead in every scene, while Baldwin shows varying methods of controlling a situation, trying to keep things on an even keel but getting pissed once because he needs make a point. [3/9/07] ***1/2
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What happens when you spend your life trying to succeed at your job only to be unable to respect yourself when you finally do? Actor George Reeves (Ben Affleck) kicked around Hollywood for a decade only to become the kept man of a woman (Diane Lane) already married to MGM's "fixer" Eddie Mannix (Bob Hoskins). Figuring no one watched that new gadget called television anyway, he took a much needed paycheck to play Superman, and became one of the idiot box's first stars. But he was pigeonholed into doing juvenile stuff in that disreputable medium, typecast in a demeaning role where he ran around in his underwear, and soon getting too old to even do that. His legion of fans were little boys who thought he really was Superman, while adults laughed him off the screen anytime he tried not to be. The main character in Hollywoodland isn't the real actor it's supposedly about, but rather fictitious gumshoe Louis Simo (Adrien Brody) who looks into his own life through investigating Reeves, seeing where he's going wrong before he meets a similar fate. The most probable theories on Reeves death are explored by Simo, but the idea is not to solve whether Reeves death was suicide or murder. The point is to show how people are chewed up and spit out by their jobs, so like everything else Simo comes to each theory through the parallels to his own life. Though Simo is from the seedy underbelly of Hollywood, both he and Reeves split up with the unsupportive more dominant woman they've spent many years with (Molly Parker & Lane) and took up with a much younger women (Caroline Dhavernas & Robin Tunney) to try to breath some life back into them. Simo wanted to be a detective putting away guys like Mannix who wield way too much power, but wound up doing whatever investigating he could get a buck for, usually bringing more sadness to a marriage by unearthing infidelity. Both Brody & Affleck imbue their character with a great deal of sadness stemming from their broken dreams and the utter embarrassment of their unrewarding careers. Simo is regularly beat up by the thugs of those he's hoping to question; he's a wise guy who doesn't care about himself enough to be bothered trying to avoid the pain. Reeves has the charm to make anyone like him, but Hollywood never decided to exploit it and in his personal life it's all for naught because he hates himself. The film uses multiple threads to tell the past as if it were the present, allowing their stories to unfold concurrently. The period detail is good, as is the acting with strong supporting roles from Lane, Hoskins, Tunney, & Parker. Brody is typically impressive, playing something of a hopeless variation of his meddling union activist in Bread and Roses, while Affleck is well suited to playing a bad actor. The film feels somewhat long because it's told in a flat manner that sometimes sits on the screen, and suffers from the obvious comparisons to Roman Polanski's superb Chinatown. But as a whole it's affecting, it lingers despite the lack of memorable scenes. [3/16/07] ***
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Finally an adaptation of Philip K. Dick that appreciates his social satire and doesn't consider gaping over technology, rehashing gimmicky action sequences, and telegraphing plot twists to be an improvement over his thoughts. This ambiguous incredibly paranoid film explores states of reality including individual, drug induced, accepted, and programmed. The story doesn't just combine the continuous surveillance of George Orwell's 1984 with the constant drug altered reality of William S. Burroughs Naked Lunch, it comprehends the problems are interrelated and feed one another. Pills are the pushed retreat from Big Brother since there is a lot more money in them than sex with your partner. They temporarily expand the mind, fighting corporate/governmental condensing, but the combination has dehumanized the populace and made it harder to connect (thus nurturing prostitution and psychoanalysis). Linklater refuses to narrow the problem down, insanity could come from drugs but also the hopelessness of their constricted reality, multiple identities, spying, and the quest for truth. You are never sure what to believe or who to root for; illusion seems more like reality, and vice versa. Linklater employs a more polished version of the rotoscoping animation technique he used in Waking Life, putting the audience in the proper scrambled and disoriented mind frame. There's always a wall between everything; it's sort of real but you can't trust it. The overreliance on a small group of stars decreases credibility by taking the audience out of the futuristic drug haze and rooting them solidly in a Keanu Reeves movie. The performances aren't "excellent" either, as Robert Downey Jr., Woody Harrelson, & Rory Cochrane go over the top due to being in a "cartoon" to the point I think Reeves woodenness is easier to take. In their defense, their brains are more toasted and the only way I could tell Reeves was supposed to be transforming from sane to schizophrenic was seeing funky images such as other characters morphing into insects through his eyes. All that being said, Scanner probably gives as accurate a depiction of the drug experience as we've seen, and is a lot more valuable than the usual one-sided stoner glorifications or "just so no" films because it shows what they give and take. Since the characters brains have been jumbled, the dialogue is bizarre because even when the characters might not be high. Their conversations aren't nearly as interesting as they are in Before Sunrise, Waking Life, Before Sunset, or Fast Food Nation, but while I missed the witty diatribes Linklater was able to almost fully integrate the issues without losing his sense of humor. [4/19/07] ***1/2
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Michel Gondry's first work as writer-director contrasts lively dreams with the dreary repetitiveness of daily routine for humorous effect. After his Mexican father dies, Stephane (Gael Garcia Bernal) is lured to her homeland by his French mother (Miou-Miou) under the guise of a "creative design" job that turns out to be little more than cutting and pasting text. Fantasy is more interesting than the mindless redundancy of reality, and obviously the fantasizer is more successful. A shy misunderstood failure who can't get anyone to produce his "disasterology" calendar becomes a successful and charming creative force. But Stephane's animated imagination distorts reality to the point it's difficult for him to distinguish from dream, and when you add irrationality and inappropriateness to his callous narcisism it has a way of negating his childish allure. Confusion between the various languages also plays into Stephane's inability to comprehend the feelings of his neighbor Stephanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), whose interests are similar but personality is much different. Everything for Stephane is done on a grand scale, while Stephanie is more realistic, patient, and hesitant. They are unable to please each other for long with Stephane always blundering somehow, the fragile relationship adding to his insecurity and impatience. But that never stops Stephane for long, as like his magical useless gadget that functions based on your belief in it, he has faith he'll do or create something to solve all problems. Filled with the purposeful artificiality of a Jacques Demy fairy tale combined with a far less accomplished version of the stop motion animation and surrealist touches of Jan Svankmajer, Gondry's film is a wildly imaginative mix of states of being. The hand crafted nature of the cardboard, egg crate, and Paper Mache sets fits the characters perfectly. These are people who entertain themselves actively through arts and crafts, have probably acted in if not worked on sets for plays, and don't mind a TV being tossed into the water. Every aspect of Stephane's life is revisited or morphed into his dreams, and sometimes vice versa. The main point is for Gondry to fully express his artistic abilities. Like his stand in, you may feel he's creative to the point of being a detriment, but I find his whimsy to be a breath of unstifling air. Charlie Kaufman is a better writer, but without him the film seems personal in every respect. I value the lack of logic, decisiveness, and conclusion because it is a dream film after all. [5/22/07] ***
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If it's worth seeing a film for a brilliant lead performance, rush to SherryBaby. Maggie Gyllenhaal is remarkably versatility as a newly paroled druggy, bouncing from one emotion to another when she's not showing the strengths and weaknesses of her character simultaneously. Sherry tries to be strong, but she waited so long and went through so much she simply can't relax. She requires a quick fix or constant attention and immediate positive results, so she jumps right to trying to corrupt others with sex or gifts, getting frustrated or acting out if that doesn't work. It's painful to watch her frailty and helplessness, and even if others could never be expected to care as much as she needs them to, it's painful to see them care as little as they typically do. Laurie Collyer hints at past familial troubles back and forth, but allows resentment to boil beneath the surface and has the guts to leave questions unanswered. Sherry only cares about getting her young daughter Alexis (Ryan Simpkins) back, but lacks the means and stability, and trust must be earned. Brother Bobby (Brad William Henke) and sister in law Lynn (Bridget Barkan) love Alexis enough to raise her as their own, so while their selfishness and Alexis' best interests are debatable it's understandable they are in no hurry to give her up. It's well known that people often trade one addiction for another, but though Sherry relies on the usual crutches such as smoking, her real addiction is an unattainable idealized version of motherhood where her child shows her love and pays attention to her at all times. People see their life entirely from their own perspective, resulting in everyone else tending to be for or against them, but when a filmmaker tries to depict an individual they encounter audience resistance because the other characters are mysterious and thin. Collyer writes individual scenes well, but the film lacks rhythm and cohesion. I appreciate the vagueness in many areas, yet you get the feeling of a rough draft. Sherry's father (Sam Bottoms) should have been scrapped entirely, this terrible Lifetime cliche only serves to direct the responsibility for screwing her life up away from Sherry. Though the other performances are good, especially Simpkins who actually acts naturally as the confused child and the always reliable Giancarlo Esposito as an earnest no refuge parole officer, the film would probably have collapsed if Gyllenhaal weren't such a diverse actress. What's good about the film and her performance is it skates along the gray area. We want to applaud Sherry for standing up to a demeaning mother who crosses the line in cussing out her child, but when you fight fire with fire the area often burns. [2/25/07] ***
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Jazzy documentation of the event that left everyone in New Orleans singing the blues. Spike Lee arrived before Hurricane Katrina hit, and left with a comprehensive epic covering almost every aspect of the natural and man made disaster. Lee captures the spirit of those who survived the flooding, pursuing the emotional more than the political. Gallows humor abounds with everyone being pissed, but somehow most of the interviewees convey the folly of it all. Lee's fairest and most mature serious work is a huge step up from his race oriented documentaries 4 Little Girls and A Huey P. Newton story, and thankfully it's very hard to tell this was made by the same man who gave us Saint Malcolm. The film would be laughable if it did not deal with race, but it's clear the problem is more class in Lee's mind, and ultimately the film strives to simply be ethical. Lee blames as many people as he can think of - though the extreme minority who had the means to leave but chose not to largely get a pass - rather than pursuing the conspiracy theories the way Oliver Stone would. Three hundred years from now his oral and visual documentation of the entire tragedy will still be studied by historians. One wonders if they'll scratch their heads then as much as we do now. Obviously Americans are going to be fishing, shoe shopping, and playing tennis even during the time of greatest need, but it would be nice if those people weren't the ones who have the power to at least try to protect and care for us. No matter where you line up, there aren't too many things more surreal than seeing a bunch of American citizens acting as squatters on their own property, in the year 2005. [2/10/07] ****
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