The Arts Corner

Nanny McPhee (2005)

2006-08-19T19:18:00.000-07:00

Emma Thompson (Nanny McPhee), Colin Firth (Mr. Brown), Kelly Macdonald (Evangeline), Thomas Sangster (Simon)

Directed by Kirk Jones (Waking Ned Devine)

From IMDB: "Mr. Cedric Brown has just lost his wife and is now left with his seven children who misbehave so much that all the nannies have run away. Now he is told by a mysterious voice that he should get Nanny McPhee, a magical woman with special powers."

My ovaries about exploded with an overload of estrogen at the sight of Colin Firth covered in seven adorable English children. And the assorted nods to Mr. Darcy could not have been accidental: the white shirt at the wedding, the various lines he uses to describe Evangeline. Slapstick aside, which was primarily for the under-12 set, he played a very sweet, bumbling, understated sort of inept dad. And he smiled - a big, bright beaming smile of joy! How often does that happen?

Emma Thompson has been a favorite actress of mine since seeing the fantastic Dead Again in high school, in which she starred with then-hubby Kenneth Branagh. Despite her inauspicious Page Three Girl origins, she has developed a career playing strong, intelligent, humorous women, all without becoming too overdone and showy. Here, she portrayed Nanny McPhee as a bizarre combination of intimidating and comic, all of which suited the movie's light-hearted, vaguely Gothic-lite tone. Her scenes with Colin Firth were especially amusing (I did knock).

As with Sense and Sensibility, Thompson adapted the screenplay for this venture and brought with her a number of supporting cast members from previous projects: Firth and Sangster from Love Actually, and Imelda Staunton from S & S. I have not read the books, but she and Jones did a fine job of keeping the story focused and tight. The DVD featured a number of deleted scenes, all of which belonged in the Extras section - not in the film itself. The resulting picture is one of fast pacing and fun.

Angela Lansbury was particularly amusing as Aunt Adelaide, and the gag real on the DVD extras proved that even actors with decades of experience can still make mistakes: the little kids forgot their lines, and so did Lansbury. Nanny McPhee proves that movies intended for children do not have to bore their parents senseless, and occasionally, they can make the hormones of unsuspecting, sappy moms like me jump just a little - if only by providing something tastier to contemplate than animated cars and fish.

2046 (2004)

2006-08-08T08:44:00.000-07:00

Tony Leung (Chow Mo Wan), Zhang Ziyi (Bai Ling), Takuya Kimura (Tak), Faye Wong (Wang Jing Wen)

Directed by Wong Kar Wai (In the Mood for Love)

Languages: Cantonese, Mandarin and Japanese (and one song by Nat King Cole)

Summary: Set in 1960s Hong Kong, a writer named Chow fanciful allegories to understand his many failed love affairs and the nature of longing, secrets, and memory.

This sequel to In the Mood for Love takes a strange turn away from the stylish realm of 1960s Hong Kong, with all of its playful and sexy tango tunes, incredible costumes, and smoldering sensuality...into the stylish world of a futuristic landscape with all of the above in spades. Tony Leung resumes his role as Chow Mo Wan as we catch up with him some three years after he abandons the hotel in which he fell in love with Maggie Cheung's Su Li Zhen, a married woman. She lived in room 2046. They make out.

In 1963, Chow meets another woman named Su Li Zhen, a Cambodian gambler played by Gong Li. They make out.

In 1966, he meets a neighbor in a new hotel, also in room 2046 - a high-class Holly Golightly style hooker played by Zhang Ziyi. They make out lots.

Then he manages to fall in love with the hotel owner's daughter, played by Faye Wong, who happens to be in love with a Japanese man her father refuses to even meet. They do not make out, which is a testament to how much he cared for her. I think.

The whole thing ends very morosely, with poor Chow stuck on his fictional train to 2046, a futuristic place where everyone seeks the memories of yesteryear. Initially, he had hoped to be the one person who might escape that realm of the past, but no such luck. On the train out of town, even the androids remind the poor guy about the chances he has had and lost. Or rather, they remind his fictional persona - the same Japanese guy in love with the hotel owner's daughter. I advise you not to attempt coming into this film half-way through, and advanced knowledge of the different actresses (because lingering cameras, repeated scenery, and similar bouffant hair styles tended to make anonymous even the most distinctive features) will help keep everyone in their proper places.

As with the other films I have seen by Wong Kar Wai, this movie was incredibly stylish, fraught with meaning, tediously slow in places, and just mysterious enough to keep me curious. Tony Leung did his very best Clark Gable - moustache, lop-sided grin and all. Zhang Ziyi demonstrated a simply amazing range of emotions as the woman particularly destroyed by Chow's disregard for her affections. Gong Li and Maggie Cheung were mere blips on the screen by comparison, figuring into the story very briefly (lest the screen explode with too much female Chinese goddess goodness). And Faye Wong was a living doll, complete with a little baby nose, an adorable overbite, and the biggest eyes this side of anime.

Wong did an amazing job of conflating the over-the-top fashions and decor of 1960s Hong Kong with a futuristic world where the hair, make-up and interior design differed only by degrees. The biggest change was the difference between Takuya Kimura as modest Japanese businessman and Takuya Kimura as a wild-haired sci-fi samurai. Nice!

Overall, the story was a meditation on memory as an inescapable destination, but the message was overshadowed by the exquisite drama of individual scenes. Cameras just LOVE these faces, and Wong did not let any attempt at mere esoteric storytelling get in their way. Almost a shame.

Dear Frankie (2004)

2006-07-28T07:48:00.000-07:00

Emily Mortimer (Lizzie), Jack McElhone (Frankie), Mary Riggans (Nell), Gerard Butler (The Stranger)

Directed by Shona Auerbach

From IMDB: "After having responded to her son's numerous letters in the guise of his father, a woman hires a stranger to pose as his dad when meeting him."

I found the trailer for this amongst a series of previews attached to some other independent movie. Otherwise, it is the kind of low-budget British project that does not garner significant notice in the mainstream movie market. I found it charming, sweet, and - despite its vaguely unrealistic premise - quite successful. Its success is rooted in new director Auerbach's subtlety. There was no giant happy ending with single mom Lizzie throwing herself at the nameless hero, but there was accessible, realistic chemistry and realistic reactions to it.

And helllloooo Gerard Butler. I just noticed that he played Beowulf in last year's Beowulf & Grendel. I do not know anything about that movie (although the cast looks solid with Stellan Skarsgård and what-ever-happened-to Sarah Polley), but I was thinking that Butler has a distinctly HEARTY presence. Keven knows the HEARTY I am talking about, like the men in The 13th Warrior. Like solid, big, quiet, thoughtful, hard men. Like Vikings or, more accurately, like Danes. The image just fits. Butler was magnetic on screen, completely dwarfing the other actors, but some inherent gentleness seemed to blunt the force of that dominance. In real life, such a man would be the rock upon which others rely; in this film, he was a shining bright point of quiet charisma.

Gentle touches, like when Frankie's grandma comes into his room just to sit and talk for a moment, added to the film's gentle realism. The overall premise may have been only tenuously believable, but the realistic interaction between the characters made for solid storytelling. This film will not be on the must-see list of most movie-goers, but it is a sweet, refreshing little trip should the opportunity present itself to you.

Pride and Prejudice (2005)

2006-07-26T13:04:00.000-07:00

Keira Knightley (Elizabeth), Matthew Macfadyen (Darcy), Donald Sutherland (Mr. Bennet), Brenda Blethyn (Mrs. Bennet)

Directed by Jon Wright

From IMDB: "The story is based on Jane Austen's novel about five sisters - Jane (Rosamund Pike), Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia Bennet - in Georgian England. Their lives are turned upside down when a wealthy young man, Mr. Bingley (Simon Wood), and his best friend, Mr. Darcy, arrive in their neighborhood."

Pre-viewing comment: It cannot compare to Firth and Ehle's definitive six-hour "P&P" - I might as well confess that right up front. I will attempt to judge this film on its own merits.

Post-viewing comments: Seriously, I wrote the above statement before watching this film, knowing that my mental comparisons would be thick. No need to worry. The silly sods got me again. I should just give up trying to resist these damn films.

I am not a subtle romantic. My main complaint with "Wives and Daughters" was the appropriate, gentle, historically accurate LACK OF KISSING. While I do not necessarily need to see two people shagging on a chaise lounge, a little something extra in the realm of the physical is appropriate to distinguish burning, passionate, all-consuming love from ordinary drawing room politeness.

This film lives in a place somewhere between the chaise lounge and the drawing room, in that it was fairly more gushing and emotional than any proper Austen adaptation should be. "You have bewitched me, body and soul," says Darcy. Nice line, but Mr. Darcy would not have said it. He did say, "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you" - but not in this film. In fact, my main and considerable gripe with this adaptation has to do with the language. Some of the modern, only half-heartedly Austen dialogue - in that they made sure a few key lines were present but everything else was contemporary - was truly cringe-worthy.

More overwrought gushing: Mr. Bennet practically cries when Elizabeth talks to him about her engagement, and Charlotte Lucas's bold defense of her marriage to Mr. Collins was particularly over the top. A woman in her position would not have needed to explain her motives to such a melodramatic extent; people would have understood without enumeration. The first proposal scene was also quite a shock. They almost kiss. And it surprises them both. Fantastic! Like I said, it was totally out of keeping with the gentle restraint of Austen, but it worked within its own context.

And then there was the concluding scene. I had heard rumors of its completly bogus, un-Austen quality - TRUE rumors, in fact, in that the scene does not exist in the original novel - but it was off the chart in terms of hot, sparkling, fun romance. And frankly, I do not think it was completely out of keeping with the book. Austen does make mention, a little, of the Darcys' marital relationship - but it is not what you think. No sex; just more banter of a highly entertaining variety.

However, some of the scenes were tempered with an attempt at subtlety. Darcy's second proposal meets not with gushing tears or flirtatious cuteness from Elizabeth, but she simply takes his hand, kisses it, and says that his fingers are cold. End scene. Seeing as how Wright focused three different times on the physical contact between them - the mere touching of hands - that Elizabeth's acceptance of Darcy focused on their joined hands was entirely in keeping with the tone established by the film.

Knightley did a fine job of becoming a spirited, fun Elizabeth, although the little toothpick certainly cut a different figure! She was not nearly so smart as Ehle but was somehow less... self-contained. Knightley's Elizabeth was an active member of the family, not so distant from her sisters like some sort of extra-clever outsider. As Lydia drove away with Mr. Wickham for Newcastle, this Elizabeth even hugged her mother. The horror! It was quite tender and mollified Mrs. Bennet's excessive shrillness, in this case played to flapping, anxious perfection by Brenda Blethyn. Knightley was, however, quite horribly flattened by Dame Judi as Lady Catherine. The poor little girl could not keep up.

Macfadyen warmed on me by degrees. He is not Colin Firth, and I will forgive him that. However, his youthfulness reminded me, perhaps, of what Firth's Darcy would have been like some ten years earlier: a little less pompous, a little less sure of himself. The change from arse to hero was less pronounced here, but a more mature Darcy would have swamped Knightley's relatively lightweight (literal and figurative) Elizabeth.

In fact, the entire cast was considerably younger and more in keeping with the sisters' 15-22 year old range from the novel. Only the woman who played Jane, Rosamund Pike, was older than 21 at the time of filming. Pike played Jane as a completely appropriate shrinking violet, which stood at odds with her character, Lady Harriet, in "Wives and Daughters." As Lady Harriet, Pike was a dynamic, forceful, fantastic example of aristocratic manners and subdued temper, so this timid and peaceable Jane demonstrated her range. I will say the same about Tom Hollander as Mr. Collins. As Osborne in "Wives and Daughters," he was charming, self-effacing, and pleasantly tragic, but here he was, well, Mr. Collins.

Two items of note, both of which go toward this version's credit. First, Wright decided to set the film about 20 years before the novel's 1813 publication date, the time frame utilized for BBC version - hence different costumes, hair styles, and general overall appearance. No sense in remaking things to a curiously static extent. Also, this film created a more robust feel. The opening public ball at Meryton was portrayed as a raucous, fun event where kids ran between the legs of the dancers and folks shouted across the room. The contrast between that open, fun, unpretentious atmosphere and the arrival of Mr. Darcy & Co. made for a nice demonstration of his influence and power. The Bennet house was in constant disarray with people running about, chickens in the yard, laundry on the line, and sewing materials left around. The sense of folksy realism was clever and grounding, whereas the BBC production sometimes made me wonder as to any real difference in station between Darcy and Elizabeth. Her house was nice, too!

One last item of note was that this film, at only 130 minutes, seriously condensed the entire process of storytelling, obviously. While The Look was noticeably reduced, too, the more annoying bits like Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins were reduced as well, for a more stream-lined journey between dislike and love.

I will not go so far as to say this was a typically Hollywood attempt at Austen, because it was somewhere in between the BBC/Hollywood extreme. This was a more sentimental, Cliff's Notes version of Pride and Prejudice, yes, but I am not displeased. The novel is for romantic women what James Bond is described as for men. James Bond: the guy every man wants to be and every woman wants to bed. Elizabeth Bennet: the heroine every woman wants to be, and who gets the guy no thinking female can resist. I do not know if I wanted to be Knightley's Elizabeth, but - I grudgingly admit - I would not mind Macfadyen's Darcy. Mission accomplished, but Austen purists beware!

"Wives and Daughters" (1999)

2006-07-21T14:57:00.000-07:00

Justine Waddell (Molly), Bill Paterson (Mr. Gibson), Francesca Annis (Claire), Keeley Hawes (Cynthia)

Directed by Nicholas Renton

Summary: The life of good girl Molly Gibson is turned around when her father, the town doctor, unexpectedly marries a selfish, self-absorbed former governess named Claire. Shortly thereafter, Claire's beautiful daughter Cynthia joins the household from France. Local brothers Osborne (Tom Hollander) and Roger (Anthony Howell) Hamley add romantic interest to the tale. However, the Hamleys come from old English stock and Squire Hamley (Michael Gambon) wants his sons to marry into wealthy old families. Before long, Molly falls for Roger, Roger falls for Cynthia, and the secrets multiply!

Adapted by the same screenwriter, Andrew Davies, who adapted the 1995 BBC production of "Pride & Prejudice" and last year's wonderful "Bleak House", "Wives and Daughters" exists in the tradition of those two mini-series masterpieces. Instead of rushing around and compacting scenes, Davies takes his time to pull the nuance from every scene and character from Elizabeth Gaskell's 1865 novel.

I credit Davies with giving each of his adaptations a certain unique voice. Austen, Dickens and Gaskell wrote in vastly differing styles, and the screenplays Davies created reflect those individual voices. As with any genre, the English drama mini-series is a product that has been repeated ad nauseam, but Davies' work stands apart as unique with every new project he tackles.

What is it about these BBC productions where the casting agents find the EXACT right person to carry the weight of the drama? Whereas American adaptations tend to take a personality (say, Reese Witherspoon in Vanity Fair) and force that known performer into an often-unsuitable role, these BBC minis cast the part with the role in mind first. The actresses are relative unknowns, but they inhabit the role in a way that bigger stars cannot, with subtlety and anonymity.

Justine Waddell's performance as Molly joins Jennifer Ehle's Elizabeth Bennett and Anna Martin Maxwell's Esther Summerson in a special realm of supremely relatable heroines. A look, a sigh, a pause - Waddell played a fragile, easily hurt Molly who managed to stand apart as the series' most steadfast character. Her silent, unrecognized pining for Roger was just heart-breaking.

That said, I could have done with a bit more kissing. The conclusion was particularly unsatisfying in that there was no finale embrace. A proposal, a scene some months later, and then Roger and Molly in Africa - but no resolved tension! Drat! Poor Molly had to suffer for more than two years, and she doesn't even get an on-screen smooch.

Francesca Annis, the former Lady Jessica, was memorably teeth-gnashing as Molly's step-mother; Keeley Hawes presented a strong combination of flighty and personable (and she looked great in a corset); Anthony Howell was a satisfying blend of brains, compassion and looks; and Iain Glen needs to stare smolderingly through every film ever made from now on. However, the real star of the show - Molly aside - was Michael Gambon as Squire Hamley. He was funny, touching, emotional, tragic, and resilient all at once, and his on-screen relationship with Osborne and Roger made the film as much about fathers and son as it was about wives and daughters.

His Wicked Kiss (2006)

2006-07-16T08:27:00.000-07:00

By Gaelen Foley

From the book's back cover: "An English rose blooming in the untamed jungles of South America, Eden Farraday lives a life of independence - unheard of for a lady - with her doctor-turned-scientist father. But Eden misses England desperately. When the dangerous and darkly charming Lord Jack Knight sails into her life, she seizes her chance to return to civilization, stowing away aboard his London-bound ship.

"Roguish and charismatic, a self-made shipping tycoon with a shadowy past and a well-guarded heart, Jack is sailing on a vital secret mission. When the redheaded temptress is discovered aboard his vessel, he reacts with fury - and undeniable lust. Forced to protect her from his rough crew, the devilish Lord Jack demands a scandalous price in exchange for Eden's safe passage across the sea. As his wicked kiss ignites an unforgivable blaze of passion between them, Jack and Eden confront a soul-searching love that cannot be denied."

I have been putting off this review for a week because it will be a long one. Sigh. If it was truly bad, I would just pan it and be done. If it was good, I would praise it. This was... frustrating. And it's either write a review or do dishes, so here I am.

From Gaelen Foley's website, you will find her a woman very interested - nay, obsessed - with the Regency period in England. Note her little essay on the subject. While all of this is nice, because I adore history as much as the next buff, it is also creepy. Does that make sense?

In her novel, the fact that the table cloths were damask or that the nightgown was zephyr silk - who cares? Frequently, she lost the plot in a quest for detail. I skipped entire paragraphs to avoid more tedious descriptions of the food, the ballroom, the clothes, the carriages. GAG! It was the historical equivalent of the food channel describing some five-star meal - a giant glut of shit that regular folks never experienced. The bigger point of HISTORY was missing. This was just... window dressing, the E Channel of another era as one author tries to out-Austen her competition with more and more minutiae.

And for all of that, what made me laugh is that she still managed to get some things wrong: in 1818, no one would have referred to the War of 1812 by that name, Mozart's music was still relatively undiscovered and most likely would not have been played at a ball in England, and no one would say "I am not trying to run a marathon" - seeing as how the modern idea of a marathon was not conceived until the first modern Olympics. She also littered her prose with mingled quotes from other writers: direct ones from from Blake and Shakespeare, something about how the sea pounded with "sound and fury" (Faulkner), and a lamentation about "man's inhumanity toward man" (Dickens). Some may find it cute, but I found it lazy. Come up with your own memorable phrases already!

And don't even get me started on her elaborate, flowery, flagrantly WRONG grammar (chock-a-block with semi-colons and colons - not that there's another wrong with that if they are used correctly and gently) and the shameless way she promoted her other books, past and future, by introduction characters from all of them. Book whoring! An occasional mention of a family member from another book is great, and I have enjoyed such cameos in other authors' family stories, but introducing them just for the sake of pushing the other books is ridiculous.

The bummer is that the story was good and modestly original. The characters were smart and sexy, feeding off of each other's energy and creating real sparks. I genuinely empathized with them, and there were no significantly stupid moments. Despite a stock sequence for the finale, Foley managed to create nice instances of conflict as these two characters negotiated their feelings.

The problem was that about one third of her word count could have been chopped with NO PROBLEMS to the story, and the tedium of her obsession with this period as some sort of historical True Hollywood Story bothered me. She wants to be a modern Jane Austen, examining the people of the Regency Era by actually recreating it through meticulous research - even resorting to period paintings for the covers of her English reprints. But Austen was good because she lived it naturally, and she was good because she was subtle - modern romances, by their nature, are not subtle. All of this was just trying tooooo hard.

I lasted with her through this one book, but if I had been required to read one more description of how cravats are tied, I would have retched.

Only with Your Love (1992)

2006-07-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

By Lisa Kleypas

From back cover: "Celia Vallerand fears for her life as she stares into the deep, arresting eyes of the dashing man who purchased her from the brigands who had abducted her. But it soon becomes clear that it's her virtue, not her life, that's in danger. The rugged, powerful renegade known only as 'Griffin' arouses desires in Celia as dangerous as they are forbidden. And thought she knows she must resist him, she fears she may be unable to do so. But the magnificent adventurer is a man trapped in a perilous deception. And the shocking secrets he guards could deny him the love f the fair captive lady who has enslaved his reckless heart."

That is an exact quote, people. Even in my blog I never use so many contractions, fragments, or sentences that begin with conjunctions. Ick!

Oh, but who can think of grammar with that silly, watered-down compromise cover featuring tasteful swans? Where is the bodice-ripping of the initial publication? And believe me, bodice-ripping abounds in this one, so the original cover would have been highly appropriate, if only for truth in advertising. After all, there were no swans ANYWHERE in the novel. Swan aficionados would have been sorely disappointed.

The big controversy in this novel has to do with the initial sex scene between the hero and heroine. Some call it rape. Some call it forced seduction. I call the whole thing ridiculous. Rape is a word, in artistic media, that I would apply to the infamous scene between Lawrence Fishburne and Angela Bassett in What's Love Got to Do with It?, the story of Tina Turner's tempestuous and violent relationship with her ex-husband, Ike Turner. Now that is a rape scene. This had... a few more kisses. And two female orgasms.

That said, if the genre had been different or if the ultimate happily-ever-after (HEA) had been in jeopardy, I would have read the scene as being much more violent. As it was, because this is a tried-and-true romance novel, I registered the actions and intentions of the hero as "troubled," "brooding," "haunted," and ultimately, "in need of the redemptive powers of love." He would make good to his woman - rescues, love, marriage, kids, more orgasms - any wrong committed in their initial sexual encounter. These mitigating factors lessened any uncomfortable emotional impact that the scene might otherwise have imparted to me. A rape victim, however, might have read it very differently.

As for the story, this was a vastly more readable book than the previous Kleypas I tried, Stranger in My Arms. The characters were more cohesive, the plot was more engaging, and the BIG POINT was more thrilling - with a nasty-ass badguy. I would have liked more perspective from the secondary characters, particularly Philippe and Briony, but the author keeps all internal dialogue focused exclusively on Celia and Justin, the main love interests. However, the book did have inconvenient TSTL moment. Sigh. For an otherwise enjoyable book, that left a bad taste in my mouth!

Captives of the Night (1994)

2006-06-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

By Loretta Chase

From the back cover: "Nine years earlier, lovely Leila Beaumont's criminal father died mysteriously. And now her cruel, profligate husband has been murdered - with innocent Leila suspected of the crime. Determined to uncover the truth, no matter how unpleasant, the beautiful portrait painter turns to the enigmatic Comte d'Esmond for help - a mesmerizingly handsome stranger who carefully hides an identity that would shock her... and a past that inextricably intertwines with her own. And though danger unites them, it is desire that chains their hearts - as d'Esmond's virility and bold, sensuous touch enflame Leila's blood... and draw her into the most irresistible intrigue of all: passionate love."

This book was recently re-released with an equally disturbing cover. Chase simply cannot catch a break when it comes to covers; they never equal her writing.

It took forever for me to get interested in this book, primarily because the hero and heroine were such flat stereotypes of romance characters... for the first third of the book. And rightfully so: they were each playing a part that was expected of them in society, so they were dull and repetitive. Oh, she's a feisty artist, quite shrewish. Oh, he's a dashing rake with a sexy gaze that can melt bones. Yada, yada... heard it.

However, once they started to get to know each other, they because wickedly funny. He is, quite possibly, the only Albanian hero ever written in romance novels. As a result, they teased each other, played fast with the sexy talk, and generally made me laugh. I found the middle third, or so, of this novel vastly entertaining and highly satisfying, in terms of romance, sensuality, and plot.

The plot itself was a convoluted mystery that must have taken weeks and weeks to plan. Aside from the archetypal romance elements, this could have been marketing as a mystery novel. Clever hero and heroine work together to press sources, find clues, and generally torment each other with passionate banter and near-miss sex scenes. And hardly any subject seemed off-limits, including a number of discussions regarding homosexual encounters.

However, I did have two minor quibbles, both of which I forgave because Chase handled the prose and the pacing so well. First: the guilty, wanton heroine. I am so very lusty, I must be a whorish sinner! Drat, but that sort of thinking annoys me. She fended that big stud off about six times before finally relenting, and any one of those times she backed out would have been the best sex ever had by any real human. Do I believe that she held out? Nopenopenope.

Second: the dark and tortured man has a deep, painful secret - a woman who scared him terribly in the past. The only redeeming feature to this was that Chase did not dwell on his scarred soul, only that he regretted the embarrassment and discontent his past brought into his present. He was not still pining for her. Neither did Chase insist on bringing the old love back into the present, assuring jealous misunderstandings everywhere. Nope. She never made an appearance, which made me happy.

I have all of Chase's work on my to-be-read list because she has not yet disappointed me in the least. In fact, her writing has almost single-handedly brought me back to the genre with some optimism and delight. A fun, complex, sexy read.

"The Young Riders" (1989)

2006-06-24T20:02:00.000-07:00

Stephen Baldwin (Cody), Josh Brolin (Hickok), Brett Cullen (Sam), Travis Fine (Ike), Melissa Leo (Emma), Ty Miller (The Kid), Gregg Rainwater (Buck), Yvonne Suhor (Lou), and Anthony Zerbe (Teaspoon)

This television series--ostensibly about six Pony Express riders and their derring-do--debuted in 1989 when I was in junior high. I fell in love instantly, because the show capitalized on what were my three main interests.

I was a burgeoning American history buff, having already extensively investigated the assassination plot against Lincoln, but this tipped me toward life-long pursuit. I was also a budding romantic, fascinated with happily-ever-after stories as I entered into adolescence. No thoughts of SEX and MEN yet, but certainly I was interested in love and boys. And then there was my constant attraction to strong female characters. Princess Leia and cartoon figures such as Wonder Woman, Cheetara, and Jem gave way to my obsessive fascination with Ellen Ripley, Vasquez and--to a lesser extent--the only significant male character, Hicks, in Aliens, and later Sarah Connor of the Terminator franchise. If an identifiable female presence could be found in any given film or television program, my interest became more acute because of her.

"The Young Riders" had it all. Not only did it feature a half dozen very fine cowboys, all between the ages of 21-25, there was also Lou. The character of Louise McCloud was an orphaned young woman who disguised herself as a boy in order to ride with the Express. She was pretty but not gorgeous. She was boyish with a flat chest, like an adolescent girl. She was smart, strong, and no one ever tried to leave her out of the action (at least in Season One). And after The Kid discovered the secret of her disguise in the first episode, thereby leading those two characters toward a series-long love affair, she absolutely became the object of my adoration.

I turned my friends on to the series, and we eventually took to signing our notes "TYR" and "GRHT" (Girls Ride Horses Too). I fell in love with The Kid. I learned everything there ever was to know about the Pony Express, completely exhausting every source in our library system. I wrote an entire episode of the show, the general theme of which was greatly realized in an episode called "Lady for a Night"--right down to the part about The Kid finding Lou's missing glasses. Casey thought I was a prescient goddess.

I lived for Thursday nights when the show aired on ABC. I began to listen to The Eagles' gunfighter-themed music from the mid-70s, and I switched off pop radio in favor of country (thereby completely missing Grunge). When my family drove cross-country to visit relatives in 1990, I was thrilled. We even stopped in Paso Robles (CA) where Josh Brolin was born! I thrived on the show's spirit for just under three years. And eventually, when it came time to write my master's thesis, I researched James Hickok, Bill Cody, Calamity Jane, and Jesse James. I mentioned "The Young Riders" on my dedication page, right next to my family; its influence on the specific direction of my academic interests was that profound.

So... how does it hold up after 15 years? Eh! The episodes I loved at the time--particularly ones that featured The Kid and Lou--remain very entertaining for me. Nostalgia for the girl I was permeates my view. "Pilot: The Kid," "A Good Day to Die," "Lady for a Night," "Bad Blood," "End of Innocence," "False Colors," "The Keepsake," and "Bulldog" were all great fun, and I will watch them again over the years. "Hard Times" featured a lot of The Kid, but it was a stale sort of prison break story that was not as fresh as I remembered. "Fall From Grace" is the best sort of campy espionage fun, particularly because of "One Life to Live" star Robin Strasser's turn as a villainous madam.

Other episodes fared none so well. Ike, Buck, Teaspoon--don't care! Never really did. At the time, I obsessively watched each new offering in the hopes of a storyline featuring my favorites, apparently relegating these less successful episodes (lickety-split) to history--always in the hopes of better luck the week following. "Speak No Evil," "Home of the Brave," "Black Ulysses," "Decoy," "Daddy's Girl," "Then There Was One," and the interminable season-ender "Gathering Clouds" (Parts I & II) were dull enough to prompt much fast-forwarding.

I am 30 now. The Kid is still a pretty young face, but I certainly do not lust after him like my pubescent self did. Jimmy, however... nice. Josh Brolin has not done a great deal since the show's cancellation, but he certainly had a way with his portrayal of Hickok. Calm, sarcastic, magnetic, honorable, tortured. The shows' production team knew this about Brolin, too, in that fully five episodes feature him as the lead character: "The Gunfighter," "Ten Cent Hero," "Blind Love," "Fall From Grace," and "Matched Pair." I did not realize it at the time (because what intellectual 13-year-old wants a bad-boy at that age?), but he had it all over The Kid. Still, all of that Jimmyness (particularly his obnoxious love interests) bored me.

Brolin was only 21 at the series' start and a little young for me now. Then I noticed myself watching Sam Cain. Sam! The marshal! Chiseled jaw. Keen eyes. WTF? I looked up Brett Cullen on IMDB and found out that at the time of "The Young Riders," he was 33, while my father was only 37. Now, as I watched these episodes, Brett Cullen is still 33 on film--which is how old Keven will be in September. Sweet! In the 15 years since this show aired, Sam Cain has gone from a (literal) father figure to a lust-worthy equal. How weird! A similar transformation took place with Emma, played by the fantastic and constantly-outclassing-her-peers Melissa Leo. She was 29 at the time, thus moving from a mother type to a sister figure. All of this perspective and maturity (on my part) made "The Man Behind the Badge" and "Unfinished Business"--back-story episodes that focused on Sam and Emma, respectively--more fun this time around.

I also found it amusing to see all of the guest stars that have since made more substantial names for themselves, most prominently (perhaps) being Cynthia Nixon of "Sex and the City" fame. She played a dowdy mail-order bride named Annie in "Gathering Clouds." I like to think that Ike married that sweet girl and went away to live a happy life with her, rather than getting his useless, über-sweet, mute self killed in season two. Oh well. Other guest stars included Nice Guy Eddie himself (the late Chris Penn), David Soul, Fisher Stevens, Jay O. Sanders, Rob Estes, Meg Foster, Roger Rees, Eddie Jones, Michael J. Pollard, Cliff de Young, and Bart the Bear.

So you will never get an accurate review of this series from me. It exists as its own historical document of my maturation and, as such, I contributed my excessive knowledge to the IMDB. All of the episode descriptions posted on IMDB for season one are mine, composed over the last six weeks. I like that very much! Histor...pop culture...the time-space continuum...all conflating!

And now, for a little Joe Bob Briggs. It's not Swayze-fu, but I like it:

Deaths (or being shot once and falling spectacularly): 181
Anachronistic Produce: 3
Villainous Englishmen: 2
Explosions: 19
Family Members Killed by Hickok: 2 (Lou's dad, The Kid's brother)
Pet Mice: 1
Historic Characters: 3 (Hickok, Cody, Alexander Majors)
Rapes: 1
Sweathouse Sessions: 3
People Who Found Out About Lou: 6 (all but Teaspoon and Sam)
Shirtless Folks: 11
Assaults on Emma's House: 2
Assaults on Sweetwater: 2
Failed Romances: 8
Kisses (chaste or otherwise): 40
Brawls (friendly or otherwise): 13
Contraptions Used to Liven Dull Plots: 2 (bicycle, baseball game)
Characters Who Survived Gunshot Wounds: Lou (2), Sam (2), Cody (1), The Kid (2), Ike (2), Teaspoon (2), Jimmy (4)

Season Two initiated a number of changes, few of which helped the show to any great extent. Leo and Cullen left the show, both of them forging successful careers outside of the Old West and leaving viewers to wonder what Sam and Emma's wedding must have been like. Don Franklin's Noah Dixon would arrive as the series' only permanent black character, and Clare Wren, as Rachel, would assume Emma's role as station mother--although with some ample bosoms to go with her sass. Ike would eventually die, only to be replaced by the far-reaching attempt to integrate yet another historic character: Jesse James. Horrible!

And then there was the continuing saga of The Kid and Lou. They would lose their virginity to each other, break up, get back together, fight, and eventually get married in the series finale, all despite his attempt to rein in her stubborn personality--a brand of possessiveness that irked me about those later episodes. I liked them wild and free and strong together, not tied up in petty jealousies like a damned soap opera. The innocent wonder of the first season was gone, leaving the telegraph, the Civil War, and changing tastes in the early 1990s to herald the show's inevitable demise. I moved on to high school, cars, romance novels, and X-Men to the point where I hardly grieved for the end of TYR's run on TV. I had a blast while it lasted...and lasted. And this lengthy trip down memory lane was a helluva ride.

Immortal Beloved (1994)

2006-06-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

Gary Oldman (Beethoven), Jeroen Krabbé (Schindler), Isabella Rossellini (Countess Erdody), Johanna ter Steege (Johanna)

Directed by Bernard Rose (Candyman)

From Hollywood Video: "During his lifetime, Ludwig van Beethoven had one true love, whom he kept a secret. After Beethoven dies, his protégé becomes obsessed with discovering the identity of the woman."

First of all: how did a guy whose only notable previous directoral experience was Candyman find the funding to direct this film? Bizarre!

Second of all: dreck! What a melodramatic, painful, dull pile of movie poop! Oh no, watch out - BIG MISUNDERSTANDINGS! Secreted notes left undiscovered until it was TOO LATE! Crap on a cracker!

I love Gary Oldman, and most of the time his work is a combination of the most sinister and the most fun an actor can have with any given role. See Léon (evil!), True Romance (badass!), Romeo is Bleeding (loser!), and - my favorite - Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (hilarious!). (As a warning, however, do not make the mistake and assume that just because he is in Air Force One and Lost in Space that those films are worth seeing. They most certainly are not.) So how is it that his performance here was so wretchedly dull? I cannot account for it. Oldman was brooding, he was pained and bastardly, but to my great disappointment, he was also infernally uninteresting. Shouting and staring are not sufficient tools for characterization.

The mystery was no great mystery. The love affairs were cold and pointless. The whole thing just reeked. Sigh. Oh, and if Napoleon took Vienna with an army as small as what was portrayed here, Vienna must not have been bigger than a village and the whole of the Napoleonic Wars should have taken a day and a half. Utter nonsense. Beethoven rocked the world; this movie sang me an unwanted lullaby.

Stranger in My Arms (1998)

2006-06-13T19:02:00.000-07:00

By Lisa Kleypas

From the back flap: "'Lady Hawksworth, your husband is not dead...' With these words, Lara's life is turned upside down. Her unhappy, loveless marriage had ended when the Earl of Hawksworth was lost at sea. But now a man stands before her, virile and powerful, who says he is her missing husband, revealing secrets that only he would know. While this dark-eyes stranger closely resembles the earl, he is as attentive and loving as Hunter was cruel and cold, promising to make Lara his wife once again in every way. With every beat of her heart, she aches to believe that this remarkable man is who he claims to be. But is he truly the rake returned and reformed... or is Lara being seduced by a cunning imposter?"

Sigh. Things were going so well! But this novel did not follow through on the solid initial build-up, nor did it justify Kleypas's popularity amongst romance fans. (I will admit that this one of her earlier works, so maybe she has gotten better with practice.)

Based on the French film The Return of Martin Guerre - which was adapted as Sommersby, one of my all-time favorite weepers - the only difference was the eventual happily-ever-after. Richard Gere did not get to shag happily ever after - although that would have been fun to see; he was hanged. Rest assured that no such fate awaited Hunter Cameron Crossroads, Earl of Hawksworth. I shit you not. That was his name.

The dialogue was natural and free-flowing, but descriptive passages thudded along with a clumsy, chunky rhythm that never fully engaged me as a reader. I certainly did not buy the whole negligee scene, although it was fun to read. The man has been celibate for a year - why was he so insistent that she wear a negligee?? Lara's constant and irredeemable do-goodery was too much to stomach, as was Hunter's flawless personality. Brood, brood, brood, but ah yes - we can take in this orphan and help another twelve. Why not? Oh, and there was an awkward sub-story about Lara's abused younger sister and various comments about how very, very wrong it is for husbands to treat wives as property. Shudder. But it's over now.

I have been reviewing few bits and bobs lately because I have been trying to watch all 24 episodes of my The Young Riders Season One collection, and I have been reading an anthology of essays about Shakespeare's plays so that I catch myself up with the ones I have already reviewed. No easy, quick reviews to be had except the occasional romance novel. And shhhh... I've been writing again.

28 Days Later (2002)

2006-06-07T12:15:00.000-07:00

Cillian Murphy (Jim), Naomie Harris (Selena), Christopher Eccleston (Maj. West), Brendan Gleeson (Frank)

Directed by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting)

From IMDB: "A powerful virus escapes from a British research facility. Transmitted in a drop of blood and devastating in seconds, the virus locks those infected into a permanent state of murderous rage. Within 28 days the country is overwhelmed and a handful of survivors begin their attempts to salvage a future."

I was blown away the first time I saw this film, about two years ago, primarily because of the unique Lord of the Flies aspect. Many films have portrayed zombies, monsters, disease, and other apocalyptic scenarios, but few I have worked up the stomach to see truly represent the horror of human nature to this extent. This is not a zombie tale but an allegorical examination into the horrors of human nature when it is stripped of civilization.

But I shall start at the beginning. The memorable scenes of Jim, Cillian Murphy, walking around deserted London are made all the more powerful for two reasons. First, I have walked those streets beneath Big Ben and across the Thames, feeling the press of huge masses of people, thus the utter absence of any single individual makes for riveting visuals. Second, the accompanying soundtrack is mind-numbingly effective. As Jim slowly comes to terms with what he sees -– he is completely alone in one of the world's biggest cities –- the music builds from a few simple notes to a thundering, warped assault. Fantastic.

Jim's development as a character is aided tremendously by Cillian Murphy's performance. He begins as the most helpless of all creatures: naked and wounded. Murphy's wide eyes and ambling gait demonstrate his confusion. He is alone, malnourished, and completely ignorant of what has taken place in the previous four weeks. By film's end, however, when Jim takes the life of Corporal Mitchell, Murphy is hard, agile, keen-eyed, and crafty. Jim transforms from harmless to deadly. His commitment to his new family, the only people he has left, makes him an avenger.

Who knew that Murphy, a skinny Irishman, could be an action hero? And I love that his Irishness is out in full force here -– no homogenized pseudo-British accent. He is lovely.

The techniques Boyle uses to demonstrate Jim's evolution are impressive. Some viewers might find them too obvious or blunt, but I liked the effect. Basically, when Jim begins to assert himself among the soldiers, Boyle portrays Murphy as he had been portraying zombies: quick pans, a blur in front of the camera, vacant eyes, blink-fast movements. All of those jumpy scary bits had been reserved for zombies, but when Jim becomes the hunter, he is treated to the same level of intense camera work. No wonder, then, that Selena and Hannah mistake Jim for one of the infected. Visually, Boyle allowed him to become one.

Major West, played by the swaggering and commanding Christopher Eccleston, suggests that there is little difference between the 28 days of infection and the 28 days before that –- just people killing people. The beastly, hard, brutal experiences that these characters inflict upon each other in the barracks proves that, but with a minor distinction. No infection made Jim kill; his loyalty to his friends did. No infection made the men hungry for women; their isolation and lust did. Infection, a bunch of zombies running around eating people for no reason, seems an abomination only because it is senseless. We can cheer the heroes when they kill with good reason and boo the villains when they kill for sport, but creepy bastards who kill without motivation...that is truly terrifying.

DVD note: I much prefer the grim alternate ending (intellectually, and for the sake of girl power), but my adoration of happily ever afters will not let me endorse it wholeheartedly. The alternative ending is particularly satisfying with regard to the character of Selena, Jim's rescuer and eventual love interest. Unlike Jim, her transformation from ordinary person to survivor took place during the initial 28 days of infection, outside of the scope of the film. Instead, her transformation is a gentle softening because of her relationships with Jim and Hannah. The original ending demonstrates that she can and wants to become a person again, to live for a future. The alternate ending proves that her brief moments of softness belied the hard, capable woman she will always remain.

Miss Wonderful (2004)

2006-06-06T16:59:00.000-07:00

By Loretta Chase

From the back cover: "Alistair Carsington really, really wishes he didn't love women quite so much. To escape his worst impulses, he sets out for a place far from civilization: Derbyshire - in winter! - where he hopes to kill two birds with one stone: avoid all temptation, and repay the friend who saved his life on the fields of Waterloo. But this noble aim drops him straight into opposition with Miss Mirabel Oldridge, a woman every bit as intelligent, obstinate, and devious as he — and maddeningly irresistible. Mirabel Oldridge already has her hands full keeping her brilliant and aggravatingly eccentric father out of trouble. The last thing she needs is a stunningly attractive, oversensitive and over-bright aristocrat reminding her she has a heart - not to mention a body he claims is so unstylishly clothed that undressing her is practically a civic duty."

Sweet goodness but Chase is great! I have not been this impressed with an author in years and years. Her characters are wonderful - not at all the sawdust-filled, hackneyed contrivances of even moderately effective authors - and her plots seem packed with endless (genre) originality.

And it has been years and years, indeed, since my actual age was less than that of the heroine. The character of Miss Mirabel was 31 and - gasp - handsome young Mr. Carsington was only 29. Shocking! More shocking still was an accidental premature release on Alistair's part - a definite first for flawless romance heroes.

While Chase did not force me to suffer through any BIG MISUNDERSTANDINGS, Chase did rely on an old standby: the BIG OBSTACLE. I was used to this device when reading Civil War romances in my youth. Northern solider, Southern belle (generally a spy or a woman who smuggled medical supplies - never guns!), and divided loyalties - that sort of thing. However, Chase handled the issue with gentle aplomb and originality. The BIG OBSTACLE was nothing more ornate or unusual than industrialists' designs on building a canal through bucolic farmland. Carsington was the industrialist and Mirabel was the countrywoman set against his plans. Simple, but real.

In addition, Chase never allowed the two main characters to stay at odds with each other, keeping them well away from BIG MISUNDERSTANDINGS. When Alistair discovered that Mirabel suggested to his family that he was losing his mind and should therefore return to London, out of her hair, he confronted her directly. And she apologized! They hugged. They made out. They resolved to care for each other, still, while working toward a common solution. Seriously! Wonderful!

Chase is a very skilled writer, technically speaking. She never allows sloppy prose to spoil her characters' special, witty charm. She utilizes semi-colons and very proper grammar, rendering her descriptive paragraphs as charming and antique as the dialogue. I love the full effect of the tale she created, even down to the correct usage of the word "whence." So much fun for a silly grammar nerd like me.

As in the other Carsington brothers books, Mr. Impossible and Lord Perfect, the hero's esteemed and influential parents made minor but significant appearances. They are instrumental in insuring their sons' romantic successes, which makes me smile. Again, it lent a certain perspective in a genre that is generally obsessed with the ONE + ONE story; a solid grounding amongst loving family members tends to lessen the claustrophobia of the tale and suggest that - although they are newly in love and it seems the most unique experience in the world - these scenarios are as old as time.

Grumble. I have run out of Carsington books. Two brothers remain, so Chase must be working on them as I write - which makes me smile. I will return to this fun, diverting world next spring! In the meantime, back catalogue - here I come.

The Mercy Room (2006)

2006-06-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

By Giles Rozier and translated from the French by Anthea Bell

From Amazon: "In a small French hometown, the narrator, who remains nameless — and whose gender also remains unspecified throughout, though some hints are dropped — teaches German at the local girls' grammar school and also translates documents for the Gestapo. Cold and unfeeling, the narrator can only summon up passion for German language and literature, particularly for forbidden works by Jewish authors like Mann and Heine. As the war rages on, the narrator drives his or her neglected spouse to commit suicide; obsesses about a sister's boisterous sex life with her Nazi boyfriend; and sneaks a Jew, Herman, out of Gestapo headquarters and into the narrator's cellar, where the two become lovers. When they aren't having sex, they're discussing literature: Herman learns German and the narrator becomes expert in Yiddish. In probing the thin line between heroism and collaboration, Rozier draws coy parallels between the otherness of homosexuals and that of Jews in Nazi Germany."

I admit it: I judge books by covers. I am a bad, bad girl for doing so, but find me a person who honestly remains unswayed by certain typefaces, illustrations and color schemes. And this cover, with its artfully arranged limbs and forced androgyny, caught my eye very suddenly at a bookstore. Seeing as how 147 pages is not a taxing gamble, I checked the book out from the library without reading reviews; I always read reviews for more lengthy endeavors.

Eh. I was startlingly unmoved by what should have been a harrowing and emotionally fraught story. The gimmick - is the narrator a man or a woman? - was simply frustrating and did nothing to expand an examination of the parallels or differences between homosexual and heterosexual encounters. To the author, it would seem that experiences, not just appearances, can be androgynous, which is a philosophy to which I do not subscribe. While Brokeback Mountain had its flaws, at least Ang Lee was able to present an unusual relationship, one that was - in part - defined by violence (their parting fight, the bloody shirt, some of their sexual encounters) in a way that is foreign to most portrayals of a loving heterosexual pairing. In this book, Rozier was so intent on creating the mystery of his narrator that the entire sexual experience between him/her and the Jewish refugee was bland and colorless.

For good or for ill, gender identity goes a long way toward providing a certain grounding and back-story for characters. The narrator was a instructor of the German language and loved German literature. Had Rozier clearly identified this individual as female, the circumstances of her education, her place in society, and her relationship to the Gestapo would have been more interesting. Certainly, there could not have been very many such women in the 1940s, and the narrator made a point of referring to him/herself as a circus freak.

However, had the narrator been clearly identified as a man, the sexless state of his failed marriage and the fate of his estranged spouse would have been more interesting. The homosexual clichés (the college friend, the difficulties with heterosexual intimacy) would have been more pronounced, but at least I could have felt more sympathy or understanding for his predicament.

In the end, the gimmick that had drawn me to this book (after the cover) was its detriment. In an effort to remain ambiguous, the author left all emotion, motive, individuality, and sentiment behind. The result was no great love affair able to sustain a person throughout his or her life. The result was a tawdry, soulless tale of desperation on one hand - the Jew - and chilly, manipulative curiosity on the other.

Vocab: janissary, Phrygiam cap

The Devil's Waltz (2006)

2006-06-03T15:41:00.000-07:00

By Anne Stuart

From the back flap: "Christian Montcalm was a practical man, if a destitute scoundrel, but his plan to bed and wed the delectable Miss Hetty Chipple would take care of that sticky wicket. However, there was a most intriguing obstacle to his success. Annelise Kempton desired nothing more than to come between this despicable rogue and the fortune (and virtue) of her young charge. Certainly, Annelise understood the desperation that comes from hard times, but Montcalm would fail - she would personally see to it. All that stood in her way was a man whose rakish charm could tempt a saint to sin, or consign a confirmed spinster to sleepless nights of longing... to give the devil his due."

While this was not the most originally or engaging of my historical romance catalogue, I was entertained by this, my first Anne Stuart novel. I expected more, however. The finale, in particular, was disappointing in that I did not realize I had reached the action climax until I turned the page and began to read the Epilogue (which requisite happily married couple and their newly spawned offspring). Soldiers arrived... and that was it. Okay.

I was frustrated, too, by Stuart's repetitive and increasingly irritating descriptions of her two main characters. I catch on quickly - I'm actually quite bright, you know. So when I was told for the 19th time that Annelise had lovely gray eyes and was well past marriageable age and that Christian was a devilish rake... I yawned. Couldn't be helped.

The seduction scene was oddly unsentimental (the first such I've encountered that was not an overt rape - and you'll have to trust me that such things do exist within some romances!), but I was amused by both parties' rather straight-forward "let's this virginity thing over with" attitude. And - sappy, gullible chit that I am - I found myself inexplicably near tears at one or two places. Idiot X-chromosomes. So I was entertained, yes, but I will not be seeking out a second try for Anne Stuart until I clear my TBR pile... so maybe never. Sigh.

X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)

2006-05-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

Hugh Jackman (Wolverine), Halle Berry (Storm), Patrick Stewart (Xavier), Ian McKellan (Magneto)

Directed by Brett Ratner (Red Dragon)

Oh wretched, wretched thing.

I hacked this film to pieces with my brother and sister-in-law last night over a post-viewing dinner, so I am tired of discussing its minutiae. Generally speaking, I was vastly entertained for nearly two hours: all things mutant and fantastic, giant everything ($140 million does not allow for anything small), and enough nods to the comics to make fan boys and girls laugh and cheer. Oh, my stars and garters - it's true. So from the standpoint of an average movie-goer, I should have been pleased with the blunt but successful combination of action, emotion, dramatic tension, terrible tragedy, and uplifting hope. And except for Halle Berry's suddenly flat American inflection (she had been attempting a half-hearted African accent in previous films, keeping with her character's origins), the acting was a lovely blend of realism and totally over-wrought melodrama. But what can you expect from superheroes?

However...

As a fan of the comics (one who, because of various economic concerns, has not collected or read the books in nearly ten years), I was deeply disturbed in ways that only other geeks would care to read. My disappointment is totally irrational, I know. Films are films and books are books, but I came away feeling let down and upset nonetheless. In almost every respect, the very essence of the relationships in Uncanny X-Men - upon which their entire history was based - was betrayed, and that betrayal resulted in some very elaborate personal and physical carnage. Grrrrrr....

Small things:
Who would have thought the goddess that is Famke Janssen could look so relatively unattractive in her full Phoenix mode? But of course, as an actress, she had the best role in the world. How often does anyone have to go to work and make out with James Marsden one day and then with Hugh Jackman the next? Sweet!

How did they get Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan to look so young in the flashback? Make-up? CGI? Impressive old hotties!

Kitty Pryde was surprisingly cute, resourceful and useful in battle.

Days of Future Past Danger Room - excellent.

Piotr still wasn't Russian, dammit.

Iceman was finally friggin' Iceman! Or was he the T-1000... can't be sure. With Beast and Angel there, I kept waiting to say, "The gang's all here!" But no. Never got the chance. Bastards.

Kelsey Grammer was the most perfectly cast X-Man since Patrick Stewart as the Prof.

And, if you see it, stick around until after the credits. They may have ended the trilogy, but no one in Hollywood can ever close the door entirely on a franchise.

To sum up: see it if you're interested. Summer movie fans will not be disappointed, and Magneto's nifty tricks, the Jean & Wolvie make-out scene, and a naked Rebecca Romijn made it worthwhile if nothing else. But do not listen to disgruntled fans, whatever you do. We're a petty, angry lot no matter what happens on screen - from the number of jokes Beast and Iceman fail to make to the exact tint of Jean's hair - so just sit back and enjoy the mayhem.

Thief of Hearts (1999)

2006-05-25T12:08:00.000-07:00

By Katherine Stone

From Amazon: "The Falconer twins are as different as two men can be, and nothing could separate them until suspicions of rape and murder tore them apart. Now, years later, Patrick is diagnosed with aplastic anemia and will certainly die without Jesse's blood, a gift that Patrick would never request. Only Caitlin Taylor, a doctor and Patrick's best friend, has the courage to seek out this remote man and ask for this sacred gift. But when Caitlin meets the dark twin, she discovers Jesse is a complex man with whom she feels an intense connection. Can she convince this reclusive and wounded man to save his brother's life? Meanwhile, though Patrick faces death, he meets Amanda Prentice, a woman who has the power to inspire him with love... if she can overcome her own tortured history."

Gack, cough, squeak, ow, not again...

Have you ever had a piece of molasses taffy stuck in a tooth filling and felt the searing pain of unrelenting sweetness that refuses to relinquish your nerve endings? If so, skip Thief of Hearts because the effect is nearly identical. But if you have any doubts, feel free to test your memory against my review of this, the fourth of my farm holiday romance reads.

I would never recommend this scholcky, wrenching, over-wrought, toxic mass of saccharine to anyone unfamiliar with Katherine Stone's writing. She really is meant for a special breed of romance reader, the kind whose stomach can stand the roiling emotional tornado of words. From the depths of the lowest, nastiest lows (generally perpetrated against teenaged girls by villainous surrogate father figures) to the staggering Austen-like highs of double weddings and implied (never explicitly described) simultaneous orgasms, Stone's books inflict every last device on their unsuspecting readers. Suspecting readers with the guts to take her on will find more of the same carefully crafted manipulation and oh-so-shiny redemptive love.

One serving is enough at any given time. Once, I accidentally read two of her books in a row - mistake! I about vomited. The single serving dose of sugar-sweet prose is just fine, however, and - if you are suitably equipped to suppress any semblance of rational brain function for the duration of the reading process - you will be well-rewarded with that burst of energy. A sugar high. Too much, however, causes the aforementioned vomiting, like a kid on Halloween night.

Thief of Hearts does its job admirably. As manipulative and sensational as any soap opera - and with as many coincidences, twists of fate, and beautiful, fragile, stubborn people - the only fantastic thing this book has over its daytime TV counterparts is an invariably ecstatic happy ending. Soap operas have no such conclusions! So, after 24 hours struggling within this sugar-induced coma, I finished the darn thing and felt nearly as happy as Stone's pretty creations - happy to be free of its spell, that is.

Now on to Elizabeth Lowell, where at least the happy happy joy joy is interlaced with a little intrigue and a substantial amount of sex...

Nobody's Darling (1998)

2006-05-23T12:30:00.000-07:00

By Teresa Medeiros

From Amazon: "Spinster Esmerelda Fine is intent on arresting Billy Darling, the man she believes killed her little brother. When the police can't get the job done, she leaves her home in Boston and travels to Calamity, New Mexico, where she confronts Billy in the Tumbleweed Saloon. When the town sheriff refuses to arrest Billy, Esmerelda takes matters into her own hands and aims her pistol right at him. She doesn't trust the handsome youngest brother of the infamous Darling gang, but Billy convinces her to hire him to find her beloved brother who isn't dead after all. Billy gets more than he bargained for in Esmerelda, while she struggles to maintain a suitable distance from the charming Billy and is dismayed to find that she is losing her heart to the outlaw."

I think I read a novel by Teresa Medeiros years and years ago, but I cannot recall the title. I chanced on this book by accident at the library and decided to try her again. While Nobody's Darling is a much more conventional romance when compared to the two by Loretta Chase I just finished, it was funny, hot, and well-crafted. Conventions: virgin heroine, rough-riding hero who makes whores swoon, a nasty, corrupt lawman, and a few too many BIG MISUNDERSTANDINGS. The secondary characters were mostly flat and trite, the ending was radically predictable, but the story was - thankfully - focused almost entirely on the hero and heroine. Ah well - I do not mind the tried-and-true as long as the result is riveting and engaging.

Lord Perfect (2006)

2006-05-22T10:14:00.000-07:00

By Loretta Chase

From the author's website: "IDEAL... The heir to the Earl of Hargate, Benedict Carsington, Viscount Rathbourne, is the perfect aristocrat. Tall, dark, and handsome, he is known for his impeccable manners and good breeding. Benedict knows all the rules and has no trouble following them - until she enters his life. INFAMOUS... Bathsheba Wingate belongs to the rotten branch of the DeLucey family: a notorious lot of liars, frauds, and swindlers. Small wonder her husband's high-born family disowned him. Now widowed, she's determined to give her daughter a stable life and a proper upbringing. Nothing and no one will disrupt Bathsheba's plans - until he enters her life."

Could Loretta Chase do it again, thus cementing herself as a new favorite romance author? Yup. Fun, funny, engaging stuff. Aside from the shamefully smarmy cover, that is.

At first I despaired at the titular hero's tendency toward staunch, unbending rules, but I imagined him as a Mr. Darcy-style lover until he learned to loosen up and enjoin a little freedom. Luckily, he gave up most of that propriety at the first opportunity, making him a much funnier, accessible love interest.

Bathsheba dwelled a little too long of the woe-is-me aspect of her public scandal, but she too emerged from that self-centered obsession on the past in order to take full advantage of the tremendously male man who fancied her and engage in their quality, touching, breathy attraction. Oh, and she broke a romance law: she was neither a virgin nor previously married to an abusive or misunderstanding man. She married her first husband at the age of 16 and fully enjoyed him (emotionally and physically - gasp!) until his accidental death when she was 29. She was a 32-year-old heroine... with a (vaguely annoying) 12-year-old daughter! WFT?? So when Lord Perfect finally put it to her, she had previous experience against which she might compare his stature and performance! Unheard of!

I also enjoyed the humorous, supportive secondary characters that make up the Carsington family, particularly the parents. Their wizened amusement at their sons' exploits serves to put the whole escapade in perspective. Most romance novels focus so thoroughly on the main characters that they become a parody of self-importance. By including the sage, compassionate and wry voices of a few older family members, the adventure of Lord Perfect and Miss Scandal was put in its proper place: a love story just like any other love story, just like every generation before them. Again, refreshing!

While I more thoroughly enjoyed Rupert and Daphne's carefree banter and escapades in Mr. Impossible - primarily for the subject matter and the character dynamics - Loretta Chase proved to me that she is a new must-read author for my romance fixes.

Mr. Impossible (2005)

2006-05-22T10:08:00.000-07:00

By Loretta Chase

From the author's website: "IMPOSSIBLE... Rupert Carsington, fourth son of the Earl of Hargate, is his aristocratic family's favorite disaster. He is irresistibly handsome, shockingly masculine, and irretrievably reckless, and wherever he goes, trouble follows. Still, Rupert's never met an entanglement - emotional or other - he couldn't escape. Until now. OUTRAGEOUS... Now he's in Egypt, stranded in the depths of Cairo's most infamous prison, and his only way out is accepting a beautiful widow's dangerous proposal. Scholar Daphne Pembroke wants him to rescue her brother, who's been kidnapped by a rival seeking a fabled treasure. Their partnership is strictly business: She'll provide the brains, he, the brawn. Simple enough in theory."

(Yes, I have a zillion proper works of literature to read, but I am on a mini holiday at my parents' farm, steadily working through a half dozen romances before returning to the serious stuff next month.)

Oh, FINALLY. Finally, a new romance author to add to my "read everything" list. The list was looking pretty anemic there for a while, as I was utterly and totally dissatisfied with the work of most romance writers. Loretta Chase, however, has reinvigorated the old stand-bys with new twists: a non-virginal, pushing-thirty heroine, no significant "GRAND MISUNDERSTANDINGS," and a hero who was sexy, capable, and just a little clueless.

Normally, the alpha tendencies of romance heroes makes them annoying know-it-alls who understand every rule of the game as they lead moron virgins through the motions of falling in love. Rupert, however, kept playing in my mind as a brawny Hugh Laurie in one of his various idiot roles (Wooster from "Jeeves and Wooster" or the Prince of Wales from "Blackadder III") - he felt something, like a nagging tickle, but he could not identify it as love until the finale. As a result, because he did not know enough about love to even try and resist it, he was not one of those insipid "cannot love again" types. He was simply having a good time and enjoying a thoroughly entertaining female until, one day, he could not live without her. Happy ending. Ah, how refreshing!

Daphne's only hang-up was that her stodgy older late husband had thought her a mite too demanding in the bedroom. Ha!! Rupert quickly remedied her of any shame in that department and they got it on like gangbusters. The breadth of her intelligence was a little overstated, but the overall effect was charming.

Various details about the actual historical bits were less entertaining than the male/female tension, which says quite a bit about my interest in the love story. When I want to skip past the history to get to the romance, the writer is doing a great job of propelling the relationship forward. The dialogue was quick, snappy, unconventional, and - in some places - laugh-out-loud funny.

On Thursday, when I found the novel's sequel, Lord Perfect (about Rupert's older brother), I bought it without hesitation. I will check out the first in the series, Miss Wonderful, as soon as I return to Madison. Finally, another romance writer whose work I can anticipate!

Crash (2004)

2006-05-22T06:27:00.000-07:00

Don Cheadle (Graham), Matt Dillon (John Ryan), Thandie Newton (Christine), Ludicris (Anthony)

Paul Haggis (screenplay for Million Dollar Baby)

From IMDB: "Several stories interweave during two days in Los Angeles involving a collection of inter-related characters."

Crash was the surprise winner for the Academy Awards' Best Picture in 2006, beating out Brokeback Mountain and Good Night, and Good Luck (among others) for the win. While all three were entertaining films, in their own ways, I cannot say that any of this bunch is really mind-blowing.

I had no intention of seeing Crash until peer pressure made me do it. Plus, a friend of mine loaned me a copy! Now six days have passed since I watched it last week, making this my blog's most-delayed review. I have discussed the film extensively with my parents and Keven, which - unfortunately - means that some of the opinions listed here may not be wholly my own and may suffer because of my waning interest in the entire subject. Enough disclaimers...

I will start with what I through were the film's two strengths: the cast and the dialogue. Every performance from this multi-faceted, diverse, and A-list cast was organic, easy and real. Big-name personalities existed next to character actors without an obvious division between the two. I could list all of them by name, but I would feel obligated to link all of their surnames back to IMDB, thus increasing the length of time it will take to write this. Instead, I will suggest that fans of solid, convincing performances will not be disappointed by Crash. This film is proof positive that acting can elevate mediocre directing to a movie of near-art.

The dialogue was also first rate, if a little heavy-handed for the sake of this movie's high-impact examination of American race relations. No one pulled any punches when discussing their innermost racial fears, which made each scene crackle with tension. People in real life my not speak so openly about their racism, making this dialogue somewhat unrealistic but also bold and entertaining.

However, Crash also had two significant drawbacks: Haggis's lack-luster direction and his hideous contrivance of a storyline. The film's sparkle and flare came from the snap-sharp dialogue delivered by a whole host of fantastic performers. The direction, however, was stilted and obvious. I had to turn on the closed captioning because the balance between the dialogue and the soundtrack was so bad; the music drowned out the words. Scenes lingered and plodded along, visually, relying almost entirely on the actors to provide interest.

And then there was the plot. Yikes! I was so busy trying to figure out how all of these people were going to coincidentally meet up with each other - because the whole story is based on coincidences - that I was distracted from the larger social commentaries that the observant dialogue created. Crash reduced the gigantic city of Los Angeles, the sheer size of which is forcefully and successfully portrayed in Collateral, to a small village. The effort it took to suspend disbelief was immense and largely futile. It was all just too much.

Was it the best picture of the year? Eh. Not really. (My current 2005 favorites are Sweet Land, Syriana, and The 40-Year Old Virgin.) Was it a frustrating morass of jumbled intentions? Yes. But I was grimly entertained and provoked.

Casanova (2005)

2006-05-15T17:30:00.000-07:00

Heath Ledger (Casanova), Sienna Miller (Francesca), Jeremy Irons (Pucci), Lena Olin (Andrea)

Directed by Lasse Hallström (Chocolat)

From IMDB: "Heath Ledger plays the fabled romantic as a man who, after failing to win the affection of a particular Venetian woman, strives to discover the real meaning of love."

Eh. I sincerely appreciated the comic stylings of various secondary actors (Oliver Platt, in particular, plus Philip Davis, Tim McInnerny and Omid Djalili), but Ledger and Miller bogged down the entire potential for riotous laughter with painfully insincere sincerity. They took themselves and their roles far too seriously. Jeremy Irons knew the thing was camp fun - why did he fail to inform his grave co-stars? Their supposed romantic connection was entirely missing, and Ledger's 10 Things I Hate About You charm was forfeit without a feisty heroine. Miller was simply... dull. Too bad. This thing was almost worth watching.

Jude (1996)

2006-05-09T09:48:00.000-07:00

Christopher Eccleston (Jude), Kate Winslet (Sue), Liam Cunningham (Phillotson), Rachel Griffiths (Arabella)

Directed by Michael Winterbottom (Code 46)

Plot: Jude, a stonemason with aspirations to attend university, steadfastly pursues his cousin, Sue, in this adaptation of the Thomas Hardy novel. Their love is difficult, however, because Jude remains bound to a woman who tricked him into marriage, and Sue cousin marries another man in an attempt to deny her true feelings. Living together out of wedlock, the two are rejected by townspeople, leaving them to struggle in abject poverty as they endure countless tragedies.

You know me.

I would hope you understand, after reading any small number of my reviews, that I am wretchedly subject to the manipulative powers of artistic works where the injury or threat of injury against children is portrayed. Case in point: the opening London bombing scene from Narnia. Did I witness kids being blown to bits? No, I simply imagined how terrifying it must have been for those (historic and fictional) little ones - hiding in a make-shift shelter and praying that their daddy will come home from the front - and I was a tearful blob. A pathetic mess, my emotions.

So what does it say about this film when the punch-in-the-gut triple child death scene left me completely devoid of tears? Not even a sniffle! Have I suddenly grown into a heartless, unfeeling bitch? Um... not to my knowledge. Potty training Ilsa has been trying, but I do not believe she has rendered me totally unsympathetic before the images of stiff, blue-faced children.

The other explanation is that this manipulative, slow, tedious film was so devoid of true sentiment that, by the time the big moment arrived, I simply cared not a bit for the fates of these characters. By Jove! That's the answer.

Nope, not a tear. I'm still stunned, actually.

Christopher Eccleston plodded along, but Jude's pride - when he insisted on returning to Christminster to live near the university that never admitted him, knowing his family would be subject to scorn and poverty because people there knew that he and Sue were unwed - is unpardonable. Kate Winslet was predictably feisty and intellectual, but I could not sympathize with her character, Sue. Ok, fine - you feel like being a radical in the face of conventional beliefs, but you do not shun convention at the expense of your children's welfare.

Does anyone else recall the sage words of Mike + the Mechanics? "Swear allegiance to the flag, whatever flag they offer. Never hint at what you really feel." Duh! When a woman offers you a place to live and she proves nosy enough to ask if you are married to the man with whom you have two children, you answer, "Yes, ma'am." Feed the babies, keep a roof over their heads, and be unconventional on your own time. Their safety comes first. The deaths of their children were not God's punishment, as Sue illogically reasoned, but the punishment of a grand cosmos ticked off at their wanton stupidity.

Winterbottom's style was too obvious. Mozart music for places of learning. Trains to imply the relentless progress of destiny. The only overtly rainy day was when they were destitute and looking for a place to live. The only overtly sunny day was when Sue and Jude were happily, carelessly in love. Dead, strangled animals foreshadowed dead, strangled children. And then there was the pacing: everything could have been portrayed in 90 minutes, leaving time for Winterbottom to finish the story, but as it was, a goodly portion of the novel's conclusion was MIA.

Still, who cares? Hardy was just playing God, attempting to make life progressively worse for people whose existences could not become more pathetic. Wikipedia called it "rigged doom," a wonderful phrase. Abandon all hope, ye characters who tread within Hardy's novels. If you get out alive, you will not be happy about it.

And for those of you who are interested in such details, both Rachel Griffiths and Kate Winslet get quite naked, but it was an independent costume novel adaptation... so that makes it alright?

Keane (2004)

2006-05-06T20:18:00.000-07:00

Damian Lewis (William Keane), Abigail Breslin (Kira), Amy Ryan (Lynn)

Directed by Lodge H. Kerrigan

From IMDB: "Keane, a man in his early 30s, struggles with the loss of his daughter from the Port Authority Bus Terminal in New York while fighting serious battles with schizophrenia. We can never be sure if the loss is real or imaginary, nor whether his overt interest in helping young girls is innocent - of a fatherly nature - or of a darker motive."

Lewis as Keane

Ten adjectives to describe Damian Lewis as Major Winters in "Band of Brothers": strong, brave, moral, incorruptible, intelligent, sober, charismatic, trusted, selfless, thoughtful.

Ten adjectives to describe Damian Lewis as William Keane: awkward, unbalanced, hesitant, confused, deceptive, lost, self-indulgent, pained, suffering, fallen.

The man, Damian Lewis, must exist somewhere between these two extremes of hero and schizophrenic, (only with a British accent as opposed to the two Americans described above), but the portrayal of each is remarkable. I fell in (movie) love with Lewis as Winters, but Lewis as Keane engendered alternating feelings of pity, fear, and despair.

Inhabiting Keane, Lewis held nothing back. Some scenes were nearly embarrassing for their stark, unblinking examination of a man literally out of his mind. Other moments were less riotous. At one point, when Keane takes his neighbor's daughter, Kira, ice skating, he appears momentarily content and almost lively. The emotions are short-lived. Somehow, Lewis was able to physically convey a shift of mental presence as Keane slipped away from reality - a glace over his shoulder, a quick flick of his pale eyes, the more exaggerated slope of his shoulders. Then, as if he had never been a lucid individual, he loses his grip altogether and becomes the crying child to Kira's concerned caregiver.

Lewis's performance is a soliloquy that balances madness with normalcy, shying away from obvious, mocking or condescending images of a schizophrenic. Kerrigan's direction, particularly the camera work, added to Lewis's portrayal in that almost every shot of Keane is in profile (I noticed because he has such a great profile), the result of which is that we - the audience - walk beside Keane as his observers. We are startlingly close to the source of this man's problems - his mind. That is he is not allowed to look us in the eye creates an artificial distance from Keane the Human, emphasizing his isolation and the sense that he is someone to be watched. In long, lingering studies of his face, I found myself wondering what Keane was thinking, a trick that might not have been so successful had he looked directly into the camera.

That said... I agree, reluctantly, with something Keven said: No matter how well Damian Lewis plays all manner of interesting, unusual, unbalanced, or creepy characters, we just want to see more of his Major Winters. It's true. He really was the most inspiring, noble, likeable hero, and I would certainly enjoy more of that. Perhaps "Band of Brothers II: The 101st Comes Home to New Jersey." Then again, I have been waiting in vain for Ralph Fiennes to revive Almásy for The English Patient's Ghost.

A Tale of Two Movies

Executive producer Stephen Soderbergh re-cut this film, taking all of the puzzle piece scenes and shuffling them into a new arc of events, the entirety of which can be seen on the DVD extras. Film students should go nutty over this because it is really the equivalent of someone rearranging Memento into a chronological sequence. What kind of movie would result? Something dull, trite, normal? Something that reveals the wizard's ultimate lack of originality?

In the case of Keane, Soderbergh's version made me realize two things, one related to the actual plot and one related to cinematic storytelling. With regard to storytelling, the order in which information is presented to an audience has the ability to create radically different results. Soderbergh's version is more linear and introduces Kira and her mother within the first ten minutes. Because of this early introduction, every subsequent scene - which had been ambiguous in Kerrigan's film when mother and daughter are not presented until 40+ minutes in - is solidified and colored by their presence in the reality of the film's narrative, not just in Keane's mind.

Kerrigan, by withholding the introduction of characters other than Keane until so late in the film, firmly weds our reality with that of Keane. We know only what he knows. His references to a woman (his ex?) and their child (his missing daughter?), as well as his many opaque conversations, are all left open to countless interpretations because we have no corroborating evidence and must take Keane at face value. Soderbergh's version created a storyline with no ambiguity; the performance - the deep claustrophobia of life inside Keane's head - remains, but the confusion about his actions and motives is erased. I preferred Kerrigan's final cut, which is wide open to speculation.

As for the effect of Soderbergh's re-cut on my understanding of the plot, I came to appreciate just how complex the final version is. Keane is crazy, literally, so how trustworthy is he to discernibly guide us through this narrative? Not very. The director's vision emphasizes Keane's unreliability because the sequence of events, as presented, is also unreliable. (But Soderbergh's attempt did help me cheat and understand what "really" happened.)

Did I like the film? Eh... hard... head hurting. I don't think so, primarily because Keane's desperation and loneliness were so affecting. However, I appreciated Keane a great deal as a movie that should be watched, admired, debated, and studied. Ultimately, no single interpretation can be relied upon as definitive.

Good Night, and Good Luck (2005)

2006-05-06T12:58:00.000-07:00

David Strathairn (Edward R. Murrow), Jeff Daniels (Sig Mickelson), Robert Downey Jr. (Joe Wershba), Patricia Clarkson (Shirley Wershba)

Directed by George Clooney (Confessions of a Dangerous Mind)

From IMDB: "In the early 1950s, the threat of Communism created an air of paranoia in the United States and, exploiting those fears, was Senator Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin. However, CBS reporter Edward R. Murrow and his producer Fred W. Friendly decided to take a stand and challenge McCarthy and expose him for the fearmonger he was. Their actions took a great personal toll on both men, but they stood by their convictions and helped to bring down one of the most controversial senators in American history."

I cannot accurately judge the quality of this film because I was too busy muttering "fuckin'-A" throughout. Hmmm... you would think Clooney was trying to tell two stories here, one about the culture of fear and governmental abuse during the McCarthy Era and some closer, more familiar themes relevant to the present. I wonder if it was intentional? Oh wait, duh. The parallels are striking, and even the creation of a movie such as this serves to walk in Murrow's (and others') courageous, muck-raking footsteps.

A quick description of my favorite scene: Murrow is committed to taking on McCarthy through the case of Milo Radulovich. He needs to write the commentary for the show's conclusion, one that clearly delineates his position against McCarthy's fear tactics, the injustice of the case against Radulovich, and the validity of voicing such criticisms – all without appearing too biased. A heavy task. Strathairn, as Murrow, sits at his desk in an empty newsroom, steadily and unhurriedly typing. He smokes. The room is empty. I had the impression that the hour was late and he would be at his work for many an hour to come. The camera slowly pulls back, from a tight close-up of Strathairn's face to a wide shot that encompasses the entire room, emphasizing his solitude. I imagined his wife and children at home, carrying on without him as he wrote, and I wondered: is bravery a loud, pompous, obvious crusade, or the quiet, patient work of a few dedicated individuals? In this film it is both, but I liked the quiet, patient aspect best in that it is rarely portrayed.

Otherwise, inventive camera tricks (with a few pages stolen from friend and executive producer Soderbergh's playbook), intentionally interesting black-and-white lighting, and casual, seemingly effortless performances from every cast member made for an entertaining film rather than a mere hackneyed biopic. I cannot recall another Robert Downey Jr. performance when he just seemed so... normal, but still possessing that charisma that gets him into so much trouble. David Strathairn was Murrow, completely inhabiting him in every mannerism and probing hawk stare. Clooney - although prominently featured as Murrow's producer and friends, Fred Friendly - was remarkably understated. Whereas Mel Gibson, directing himself in Braveheart, seemed to design countless shots around his magnificently blue eyes, Clooney was almost camera shy from himself - a refreshing and intriguing use of his celebrity to draw attention to an otherwise obscure indie film.

As a result, I did not get to droll over shadows of Dr. Ross, but I find myself exulting in the intellectual happiness of realizing, again, that Mr. Clooney is a most appealing combination of looks, brains, wit, and leftism. And yeah - Reed Diamond lives and works! Long live ex-"Homicide" cast members! Fuckin'-A.

Brave New World (1932)

2006-05-04T21:15:00.000-07:00

By Aldous Huxley

Wikipedia has a massive entry for this novel.

So, what if it isn't a dystopia? What if it is just an exaggerated representation of society as it stands? One certainly needs not imagine the extremes of decanting and soma to find individuals at odds with peers, political manipulations, inert masses, and a government over-body hiding the truth in plain sight. This Brave New World is not new at all.

Imagine Bernard Marx. He is smart and well-qualified for his position, but his social skills are lacking. He has a small physique, and perhaps rumors circulate about his sexual life (or lack thereof). He tends to exaggerate his grievances, like an angsty, oppressed teenager. He whines.

Imagine Lenina Crowne. She is a little dizzy, but she does her job well. She tends to behave somewhat contrary to some standards of propriety without ever going so far as to foster a negative reputation. She dislikes unpleasant things and would just prefer to have a good time. A party girl.

Imagine John the Savage. His mother was called a whore, and he was born out of wedlock. His mother's abusive lover acts as a surrogate father figure. John looks different from the other kids, he is smarter and more sensitive, and he consumes knowledge of his differences like poison. He looks for answers in forbidden literature and in religion, finding nothing but more poison (because he filters everything this way). He would like to be more penitent, but sometimes he is distracted by a pretty view or nice food - hating himself all the more upon realizing his weakness. Like every unhappy nihilist - seeking redemption because he cannot find acceptance - he does his best to bring about his swift, self-inflicted end. Today, he might be the kid who takes a gun to school.

Of course, critics and students have made endless comparisons to the near-contemporary Nineteen Eighty-Four, but I see only a scant connection. Orwell imagined a masterful totalitarian government that ruled by domination and fear, but Huxley's book is an extreme representation of the inertia, commercialism, apathy, self-indulgence, ignorance, stereotyping, repression, and chemical dependency of a modern, mass-produced society detached from the lessons of its past. Where is the future in this? The science is fanciful, sure, but the characters are walking among us today.

In the postscript of the edition linked above, the editors provided quotations from critics who disliked the book upon its initial publication. Some argued against his "undergraduate jest" of marking the years by A.F. (After Ford) - a purile joke that persisted with diminishing impact - while others criticized the rampant sex lives of the characters. Eh... not so concerned about all that, except - as with the A.F. issue - his critique was repeatedly hammered home... and then hammered again. We get it. They're sluts. Move on.

The critique I found most intriguing came from a man named Granville Hicks who, at the time, was the literary spokesman for the Communist Party USA. He wrote:

[Huxley] has money, social position, talent, friends, prestige and he is effectively insulated from the misery of the masses. Of course he wants something to worry about - even if he has to go a long, long way to find it (267).

Ouch! But intriguing...

Imagine Aldous Huxley. He is a well-educated member of the upper class, and he holds a culturally significant job writing for publications that reach and influence the masses (Vogue and other magazines). He longs for a scenario of sufficient "madness and violence" to compell the creation of serious, wrenching fiction, but the present just "won't do" (185). Wait... that's Helmholtz Watson, the Alpha Plus lecturer at the College of Emotional Engineering, Department of Writing. Helmholtz says to John the Savage - after the latter just finished reading a passage from the forbidden text of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, "I know quite well that one needs ridiculous, mad situations like that" - like a distopic future, perhaps? He continues:

One can't write really well about anything else. Why was that old fellow [Shakespeare] such a marvelous propaganda technician? Because he had so many insane, excruciating things to get excited about. You've got to be hurt or upset; otherwise you can't think of the really good, penetrating, X-rayish phrases (185).

Maybe Mr. Granville Hicks, Communist, had it right. From Wikipedia, I quote Neil Postman in Amusing Ourselves to Death: "What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one." That's a generous summation. Maybe, as a member of the world's elite, Huxley was in an excellent position to exploit the fears and curiosities of potential readers - readers who would be, in 1932, quite enthralled with the fantastic scientific advances and altered sexual mores he describes at length - in the guise of a futuristic (dis)utopia. Here, proles: read this and contemplate a bizarre-o future, but do not, under any circumstances, wake up from the present.

Ok, probably a bit much toward the realm of anti-elitist conspiracy theories, but it was more entertaining to write than a straight-forward examination of what has been a microscopically examined text. On the something new...

Vocab: ossuary, Procrustes, chypre, pneumatic (an allusion to breasts), solecism, dolychocephalic, neurasthenia

Titus Andronicus (2003)

2006-05-04T09:35:00.000-07:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's Titus Andonicus (1593)

Vol. VI of The Complete Arkangel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; Titus Andronicus - David Troughton (Titus), Harriet Walter (Tamora), Paterson Joseph (Aaron), David Burke (Marcus)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

Holy shit! Fourteen dead, with one more buried alive to die of starvation. Three amputated hands. One dismembered tongue. A bi-racial bastard. A gang rape. Filicide (twice). Cannibalism.

And here I thought Shakespeare was all giggles.

Certainly, the play was entertaining, mostly because of my constant amazement at the level of protracted, elaborate violence, but I was left with the question: "Do I like it?" No.

Now I am not one of the Shakespeare-loving snobs throughout history who have gone so far as to deny his authorship because of its starkly barbaric, dark content (The Comedy of Errors it is not!), but I do like my Bard... charming.

The American Heritage Dictionary defines charming, in part, as "to be alluring or pleasing." When I say that I like Shakespeare's charm, I do not limit my appreciation to the comedies and romances; despite their violent content and political subject, I very much enjoyed the second and third parts of Henry VI because of the inventions he employed. The flair for linguistic complexity, the range of characters, the method of producing extraordinarily emotional language for rather mundane sentiments - these profound, charming tricks of expression are rarely undertaken in our days of succint, slang lanaguge, so devoid of grace, and they make his works unique and lasting. Now that I am much better at understanding Shakespeare's more typical style, I like the dense, puzzle-piece, flourishing words. Anything less ornate and clever sounds... course, blunt, and contemporary.

In Titus Andronicus, I found no charm: fifteen instances of the word "rape" preclude that adjective. Forget the gore and the gurgling sound effects the producers used for all of Lavinia's tongueless blood spewing, the language was rough and plain. And, as a proper tragedy, none of the characters (except for Lucius, the eventual emperor) stands on a significant moral high ground. With no one to admire or cheer, I just sat back and waited for all the stabbing to stop. How could I come to care for such self-serving, bizarre, emotionally stunted halfwits?

I was also disturbed by the "honor killing" rationale for Lavinia's death. Titus refers to "The Physician's Tale" in The Canterbury Tales where a man named Virginius (or Verginius) decides to slay his daughter rather than hand her over to a lecherous judge who would accost her. Titus follows this example and cuts Lavinia's throat, saying: "Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; / And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die!" Thanks, Daddy! Apparently, it wasn't enough that 21 of Titus's 25 sons had already been killed in battle, that he had personally slain another, and that two more had been decapitated by the new emperor. No. He had to sacrifice his (only mentioned) daughter so he wouldn't be so upset to see her ravaged, tongueless, handless self. Worse to be the ravaged, tongueless, handless wretch than have to look at her. The idea of virtue over life, especially when that decision is taken form a woman's power at the insistence of some male relation, turns my stomach.

However, on a much larger scale, Titus Andronicus is largely satirical. No one can possibly take this comically grim, farcical lump at face value. Its direct, excessive portrayal of heinous crimes exceeded the bloodshed and malicious invention of its popular contemporaries, reminding me of Natural Born Killers, a film that employed excessive violence in order satire our lustily violent culture. Taken as a straight-forward film about two serial killers, NBK is nasty and unwatchable, but as social commentary it is shocking and thought provoking, if not entirely effective. Perhaps much of the satire and commentary Titus was meant to evince has been lost in the ensuing four hundred years, leaving this play to stand beside Shakespeare's other, more accessible and pleasing works on its merits of language and plotting alone. In that regard, it cannot compete.

Ok, so blunt language, unsympathetic and largely repellant characters, an unjust honor killing, gut-churning violence, nearly- opaque social satire... can't wait to see the film!

Quotes

Titus, to his only remaining son: "Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive / That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?"

Aaron, the villainous Moor, in the most unrepentant speech ever:

Even now I curse the day - and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse -
Wherein I did not some notorious ill:
As, kill a man, or else devise his death;
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it;
Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself;
Set deadly enmity between two friends;
Make poor men's cattle stray and break their necks;
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skin, as in the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
"Let not your sorrows die, though I am dead."
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly;
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.

Vocab & References

affy, lading, ad manes fratum (Latin, a kind of death ritual), Scythia, Solon, stale (laws and animal urine), Hymenaeus, Semiramis, speed (prosper), Philomela & Tereus, Actaeon, Cocytus, Pyramus, Nilus, Aetna, Tarquin, Lucrece, Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? (Latin, paraphrasing Seneca: "Great ruler of the heavens, are you so slow to hear of crimes and to observe them?"), Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu (Latin, quoting Horace: "The man who is upright in life and free of sin has no need of Moorish spears or a bow"), Enceladus, Typhon, Alcides, maugre, gloze, Progne

Pump Up the Volume (1990)

2006-04-29T21:04:00.000-07:00

Christian Slater (Mark / Hard Harry), Samantha Mathis (Nora)

Directed by Allan Moyle (Empire Records)

From IMDB: Mark runs a pirate radio station and causes an uproar when he speaks his mind and enthralls fellow teens.

What strange, rambling review this will be; bear with me.

I first saw this film as part of Dr. Klein's Great Ideas class in the autumn of my second year at BGSU. TK showed the film as part of our discussion about civil disobedience, which was a much better choice than his decision to show Lawnmower Man as an example of post-modernism. But I forgave him: science has demonstrated that 82% of people never understand the much more appropriately post-modern classic Blade Runner, so it was probably more fun to play MST3K with Pierce Brosnan's horror of a non-Bond role than to explain the whole "he is an android" thing to my classmates.

I remembered only two things about Pump Up the Volume from that initial viewing: the finale and THE KISS. Samantha Mathis and Christian Slater - topless, both of them - circling around each other like a mix-up of hunter and quarry, neither one pulling back and neither one making the first move. Has there ever been such a sexually-charged pre-kiss scene? They were both bare from the waist up but had not even touched each other. Palpable tension. Lots of heaving and panting. Mind you, we watched this scene in some sort of AV-rigged classroom with the lights out, so the heaving and panting was restrained and largely unacknowledged for fear of 19-yo mortification. But c'mon people! We should have been necking in one big happy mass!

An opportunity missed. For me, that would have to wait another year.

Flash forward ten-and-a-smidge years and you find me, a staring-at-30 housewife / mother of two. My husband is going to work for Philip Morris this summer to better figure out how to sell cigarettes to folks in Amer'ca. What happened? Instead of feeling intense TAKE ON THE SYSTEM vibes, I sat watching this movie and wondering how to protect my sweet little girls from the afflicting discontent I saw on screen. Granted, the kiss was just as good as I remembered, but I felt a sense of dejected, heartsick apathy wash over me. What is the point? What can be done? I was not that rebellious of a teen. Is that good or bad? Maybe my girls will fare just fine...

But luckily, that torrid mash was not the end of my thought process.

My darling Generation X, granted, was a bunch of whining sops, but at least we complained about something - 80s greed, excessive militarism, joblessness, skyrocketing divorce rates, bleak futures. Now, surveys find the current crop of high school grads ever more willing to sell out at an earlier age for the niceties of life they still experience while living at home with mommy and daddy. C'mon - you don't have to march the streets, but at least put on a flannel and moan about the day Kurt died. Just... anything!

However, in raising our kids, my overly idealized goal for their futures involves earth-shaking, radical change. Wouldn't it be fun if they participated in a G8 protest, joined the Peace Corps, went to work for Amnesty, or fought for unrestricted access to AIDS drugs in Africa? Make a difference!

(So what have I been doing, you ask? I am busy teaching my little revolutionaries hot to read and pondering the very real possibility that, in their hatred toward the world's abundant unfairness, they will - in their infinite, youthful wisdom - label me "SELL OUT" and hate the apparent apathy of my existence. I will, one day, sacrifice my pride to their painful accusations as they go forth to tackle injustice. Fair enough. A painful, gut-wrenching job well done on my part.)

Christian Slater is, in Pump Up the Volume, a teeny-bopper version of every great revolutionary leader who has ever - reluctantly - stood up for a cause. Do you think that Gandhi, Lincoln and King wanted to be killed, that Elizabeth Cady Stanton didn't want to sit home with her husband and seven kids, that Wałęsa and Madela enjoyed prison, or that Aung San Suu Kyi wouldn't appreciate the taste of freedom one day? When Mark wants to pull the plug on his pirate broadcast, Nora tells him, "You're the voice you've been waiting for." Being a revolutionary is a dirty, nasty, horrible business, (note to self: maybe I should steer the girls toward accounting), and he is reluctant to take credit for the lives he has changed or to face the repercussions should he be caught. But, because no one else has the balls, he must take that stand. Someone has to do it. In this case, it might as well be (what ever happened to?) Christian Slater.

My mood was lightened considerably with the two film's two final minutes. As Hard Harry faces one of a revolutionary's inevitable ends (the others being death or the aforementioned "SELL OUT" moniker), he encourages all of the assembled miscreants and hopefuls to take to the airwaves and make a difference. They do. But now, ten years on from my initial viewing and 16 years past this movie's release date, our quiet revolutionaries are writing and talking and bloging and linking and taking a stand here, on the internet. In 1990, it was short-wave radios and LPs. Today it is the internet and MP3s. New, more effective technology, same old crappy adversaries.

So go watch The Daily Show and even unknown muckrakers like Zefrank. Read The Daily Kos and Crooks and Liars. Go write a friggin' e-mail. Support Bono, Russ Feingold, George Clooney, and all the other A-listers who could be sitting at home, shagging and getting fat. Hard Harry, among others, would be proud.

Circle in the Water (1994)

2006-04-28T11:43:00.000-07:00

By Susan Wiggs

From the book description: "Never one to forget a slight, King Henry VIII sought revenge against Stephen de Lacey, the handsome and defiant Baron of Wimberleigh. When a gypsy horse thief interrupted the king's daily hunt, Henry saw a way to bring the insolent nobleman to heel - he gave Stephen a choice of marrying the brazen wench or watching her hang. Stephen wanted nothing to do with his unwelcome gypsy bride, even when he realized Juliana was a princess from a far-off land, fleeing the fires of a deadly uprising. But with each day, she moved closer to his heart - and to the secret that could destroy him."

Like a little summer fling, this book was - predictably - fun and forgettable. Susan Wiggs remains my favorite romance writer, and I am in the midst of casually working through her out-of-print back catalogue, almost all of which are available through my library system. No better time for fluffy, quick reading than sunny summer days! While it stood not a chance of being as entertaining as my Wiggs favorites, The Drifter (my first), The Mistress, Summer by the Sea, and Halfway to Heaven (I read the latter two while on vacation in Cancun and Jamaica, respectively - coincidence?), but it still exceeds in character and charm the vast, amorphous dribble that is the romance genre.

First published in 1994, and possibly written much earlier, I understand how much more refined her writing has become and why she has edged away from the formulas of romance in favor of more complex, unpredictable, original contemporary novels: there are only so many sex-on-page-220 books an author can write before becoming bored with convention. Here, she seemed bored but unwilling (unable?) to break away from those hard and fast expectations of genre.

Did it leave me gasping? Nope. But I always did prefer cowboys to knights and nobles...

The Penelopiad (2005)

2006-04-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

By Margaret Atwood

From the dust jacket: "In Homer's account in The Odyssey, Penelope - wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy - is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suits - and curiously - twelve of her maids. In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: 'What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?'"

First: the description curiously reads "the abduction of Helen" - she ran away willingly, as I have always understood the myth. Second: I selected this book for the May meeting of our MOMS Book Club.

The Penelopiad, the distaff counter to last night's Sin City, is a quick little thing, packed with shards of mythology, feminist revisions, and dubious truthfulness from two independent narrative voices: Penelope, and a chorus comprised of her twelve slain maids. Atwood's decision to (re)tell the story of Penelope's faithfulness to the long-absent Odysseus and the consequences of his return from two points of view serves to create a dynamic variance of perspectives. It also makes this brief 200-page novel dense with opportunities to discuss the nature of gender, power, and authority, particularly with regard to the historical record.

Atwood's integration of various mythological elements was both successful and accessible. Perhaps I base my definition of success on its accessibility, as I am not an aficionado of all things ancient and Greek, and a reader with more knowledge of the subject matter may have been disappointed by descriptions of legendary characters that merely skim the surface of their import. But for my taste, the smattering of detail was just enough to ground Atwood's Penelope in a mythological foundation and remind me of the details I have lost since reading The Odyssey in high school.

For example, Atwood's description of Menelaus, Helen's cuckolded husband, is succinct, draws from Homeric language, and fits nicely with the voice of this Penelope:

"That was what got her into trouble with Paris, later - he was so much better looking than Menelaus, who was lumpish and red-haired. The best that was claimed of Menelaus, once they started putting him into the poems, was that he had a very loud voice" (34).

Atwood's references to mythological elements were by no means encyclopedic, in that she was not trying to demonstrate any fantastic command of the material, but they served the best possible purpose: story-telling.

As for feminist revision, that was Atwood's raison d'etre for (re)telling this tale. Within these pages, she included numerous discussions about the state of marriage (an institution devised to insure lines of inheritance), the unfathomable duties of female household servants, and the obligations of women who were constantly entangled in male disputes over money, power, and honor. The chapter entitled "The Chorus Line: An Anthropology Lecture" is particularly interesting with regard to the conflict between cults of the Goddess, which would have existed in Neanderthal times and down to proto-Greek societies, and the patriarchal system of gods favored by the Mediterranean cultures of Homer and his contemporaries. In this chapter, the twelve maidens and their mistress, Penelope, are said to represent the thirteen lunar cycles of the year. When Odysseus slays the maids and (re)takes their mistress as his wife, he confirms the superiority of masculine power over women. The chorus concludes with the maids reconsidering their theory, however, in that the symbolism of their deaths within a larger of male over female actually does their memory a disservice:

"Never mind. Point being that you don't have to get too worked up about us, dear educated minds. You don't have to think of us as real girls, real flesh and blood, real pain, real injustice. That might be too upsetting. Just discard the sordid part. Consider us pure symbol" (168).

Finally, I found the issue of (unreliable) narrators to be the most interesting aspect of this novel. Purportedly, Atwood intended to retell Penelope's story. So why does she include the chorus of the maids? Penelope's story should be her own to reconstruct and fabricate to her own contentment, but Atwood's decision to include the chorus offers two additional interpretations of Homer's famous poem. As a result, we understand that Penelope cannot be trusted entirely, indicating that Penelope's protestations and descriptions may be as (latently) abusive, privileged, and unjust to the maids as was Odysseus to Penelope.

Evidence for Penelope's deviousness abounds. She repeatedly emphasized others' claims to her cleverness (as opposed to snooty cousin Helen, who was beautiful). The trick for which she is best known - unraveling, each night, the shroud she wove so as to delay her promise to choose a suitor upon its completion - is an example of her adroit mind. She recognizes Odysseus upon his return, seeing through his disguise, but keeps secret her awareness. She protects herself from the taint of scandal, and upon their reunion, Penelope's stories are as fantastic as her husband's:

"I told him how very many tears I'd shed while waiting twenty years for his return, and how tediously faithful I'd been.... The two of us were - by our own admission - proficient and shameless liars of long standing" (173).

By this, are we supposed to believe that she was faithful, that she merely forgot to let Eurycleia - Odysseus's influential maid - know that the maids were in on her plot to spy on and pacify the suitors, and that she was drugged and sleeping while Odysseus hanged the maids? No. The sympathetic voices of the maids is too strong, and Penelope's contradictions - she is at once very clever and very, very... inadvertent - are too damning. "Dead is dead," she thinks after she learns of the hangings. "I'll say prayers and perform sacrifices for their souls. But I'll have to do it in secret, or Odysseus will suspect me, as well" (160). Her impetus for self-preservation - a skill she learned at the hands of her alternately abusive and neglectful parents - is strong and quietly ruthless.

Are the maids blameless or entirely honest? Probably not. After all, who would refuse the opportunity to bad mouth a former employer when given a legitimate venue in which to do so? The intrigue, motives, and perspectives are well worth pondering, particularly in contrast to that of Homer's work. Penelope, as a woman in a stridently patriarchal society, has much in common with her enslaved maids, but as a noblewoman with ample resources at her disposal and the benefit of respect and custom accorded to discrete members of the ruling class, she has the persuasive opportunity to be heard much more clearly than do her dead slaves.

I feel a little rotten siding against the heroine and protagonist, but if Atwood had wanted purity and certainty, she would have written a different novel. As it stands, I liked this approach very much. The novel was fast, fun, and provocative, and I will never again be able to consider The Odyssey so innocently...

Vocab: raconteur, asphodel, chacun à son goût (French: each to his own taste), epical, gourmand

Sin City (2005)

2006-04-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

Bruce Willis (Hartigan), Clive Owen (Dwight), Mickey Rourke (Marv), Jessica Alba (Nancy)

Directed by Robert Rodriguez (Desperado) & Frank Miller

From IMDB: "A collection of interweaving stories all based in the corrupt, crime infested hell-hole that is Basin City. Heavily influenced by film-noir, the main storylines concern a hulking brute called Marv who seeks the murderer of a beautiful woman who was killed while asleep in bed with him, an ex-photographer called Dwight who accidentally kills a hero cop and has to cover it up, and a soon-to-be-retiring policeman called Hartigan who is incarcerated for a crime he did not commit. Based on the graphic novels Sin City, The Big Fat Kill and That Yellow Bastard, written and illustrated by Frank Miller."

How shall I begin? Should I start with an irate discussion about the subjugation, abuse, objectification, and idolization of women? If I did, I would certainly have enough material to compose a treatise, let alone one little blog entry.

Maybe just a small taste: while the women were generally benevolent characters, (benevolent as observed and defined by the three male narrators), the film's repeated motifs of female characterization was that of bad girls with a good heart or good girls who liked things a bit rough. Rosario Dawson's dominatrix / Amazon / queen hooker was the most overtly powerful woman - if power is defined as influence over one's peers and the ability to perpetrate violence - but even she is slapped, kidnapped, and stripped of her individualism by Dwight's references to his "woman warrior" and his "Valkyrie," thus transforming a woman into a myth. The character of Goldie - another hooker - is equally mythologized when Marv refers to her as "the goddess" and "the perfect woman," and Hartigan practically beatifies his "little Nancy Callahan" - a stripper.

These women are reduced and objectified based upon their own characteristics and their relationships with the protagonists, while Wendy - Goldie's twin - is not even allowed that personal nicety. Instead, Marv repeatedly mistakes her for her sister and, at the conclusion of his vignette, she even encourages him to do so. While the character of Kevin (finally someone else realized that Elijah Wood is a little creepy and deserves to play a sick-o) eat his victims, and while the character of young Roark / the Yellow Bastard abuses, rapes, and kills women, even the heroes participate in this systematic, rampant destruction of female individuality and autonomy.

And the guns + lingerie imagery was just SO obviously a comic fan-boy's favorite sort of wet dream.

Ah, but all of that is obvious. What if I had started, instead, with a discussion about the trivialization of violence and the directors' sensational portrayals of horrific scenarios? No less obvious, I admit, but worth exploring. Drawing, perhaps, from the example of Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (he was credited as "Special Guest Director" for Sin City), Rodriguez and Miller chose to render certain scenes - particularly the most gruesome - in block silhouettes, thus reducing the amount of detail available to the viewer. In other scenes, blood was colored white or black, making it look like a smudge of light or a shadow instead of a flaring stain of genuine, gut-wrenching color. These techniques cheapened the impact of violence, thereby permitting an increase in the amount of violence.

That, and bullets never seemed to do their job against the heroes. They were sieves!

And what of the huge cast? Briefly:

Bruce Willis plays a man in his 60s. Giggle.
Jessica Alba shares a common tie with Jennifer Lopez: shut up and dance. Or just shut up.
What was up with Clive Owen's accent?
Benicio Del Toro looked like some mangled cross between Eric Roberts and Antonio Banderas while all of his charisma was sucked away by malevolent forces.
Brittany Murphy has changed a great deal since Clueless, and her noir melodrama was so tongue-and-cheek that - by making fun of her damsel role - she alone seemed to transcend the rampant erotic conceptualization of women.
Josh Hartnett, in his brief appearance, was charming and intriguing rather than his usual stupefied and dull.
Mickey Rourke is as creepy as ever, just for different reasons.
The Spy Kids mama is hot. See? This damn flick just inspires the objectification of women.

All that said, I alternated between entertained and bored, but I should think that Miller fans and noir buffs will be happy.

The Comedy of Errors (2003)

2006-04-24T06:17:00.000-07:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors (1592)

Vol. V of The Complete Arkangel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; David Tennant (Antipholus of Syra- cuse), Brendan Coyle (Antipholus of Ephesus), Alan Cox (Dromio of Syracuse), Jason O'Mara (Dromio of Ephesus)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

What a crack up. This is Shakespeare's shortest play and, more impressively, this is the first of his comedies ever performed. Would audiences have found the change of tone and theme surprising? After all, this is the same man whose first four works were the heavy Henry VI trilogy and its sequel, Richard III. That would be like Ridley Scott or some other equally serious action director offering, as their next project, a film like The 40 Year Old Virgin.

So what does this play contain? Slapstick, puns of a great multitude, at least one fart joke, mistaken identities galore, wisecracks, two rather abused servants in The Three Stooges manner, and an ongoing discussion about a very fat, amorous cook. I laughed louder and more often with this play than with any dozen half-hearted sitcoms or lame Hollywood comedies.

The puns, however, can be frustrating, primarily because of how greatly the meaning of certain words has changed in 400 years and because I am not working from an annotated text. For example, the words "mated" and "gossip" are used in such a way as to make no sense to me with modern definitions (or even the more arcane ones I discovered). Because of the rapid-fire dialogue, I found myself contented, for the most part, with allowing all of that word play to wash over me in the hopes of registering at least every other pun. Many, many groans to be had at all that silliness.

The audio drama production added to the experience. Various stage comedy sound effects for slaps and pratfalls abounded, as did the use of sad, tongue-in-cheek piano music whenever a character waxed reminiscent to reveal a flashback. All of the techniques they employed are clichéd, eliciting a grin and a bit of eye-rolling from me, but the clichés themselves made the conventions of the plot more humorous. The comparison might be a modern sitcom using the laugh track intentionally - forcefully - in order to create another layer of wry, self-aware jest. Excellent, fast, fun.

Quotes

Adriana (Antipholus of Ephesus's wife) to her sister about men's freedoms: "Why should their liberty then ours be more?" Luciana: "Because their business still lies out o' door."

Dromio of Syracuse to his master about the fat cook who chases him: "Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world."

More about the cook: "No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip: she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her!"

Dromio of Ephesus (the fart joke): "A man may break a word with you, sir; and words are but wind; / Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind!"

Dromio of Ephesus to his twin: "Methinks you are my [looking] glass, and not my brother: / I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth."

Vocab & References

jars (conflict), mountebanks, carcanet, carbuncles (gem & infection), durance, lapwing, morris-pike, genius (guardian spirit), sere

Don Giovanni (1989)

2006-04-23T09:38:00.000-07:00

By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1787)

Libretto: Lorenzo da Ponte, based on the legend of Don Juan

Performers: Thomas Hampson (Don Giovanni), Edita Gruberova (Anna), Hans Peter Blochwitz (Ottavio), Roberta Alexander (Elvira); Nikolaus Harnoncourt conducting the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Amsterdam, 1989

Want to know the plot? Click here.

Comedy? Tragedy? Was Mozart such an innovator that he could create an opera that exists beyond such distinctions? The evidence: the titular character dies, much to the grim satisfaction of all involved, and only two characters attain marginally happy conclusions - events that suggest tragedy - while several humorous, crude moments and the presence of numerous opera buffa ensembles lend it comic flair. The overture, with its dark, memorable theme, is repeated upon the Don's demise, and it foretells the inevitable conclusion that no amount of subsequent comic play can erase.

In the years since its premier, the opera has been staged both with and without the slam-bang group finale, as some artistic directors chose to conclude the work with Giovanni's "tragic" decent into hell. This choice was dramatized in Amadeus in order to coincide with Salieri's observations about the relationship between Mozart and his father, and incorrectly so; Don Giovanni, conducted by Mozart at its Prague premier, would have included the finale ensemble as he composed and intended.

But where is the tragedy in a homicidal rapist's just demise? The genuine tragedy is expressed in the so-called joyous finale when all of the characters who have been so severely affected by the Don lament their new prospects. Donna Anna, still grieving after her father's murder and Don Giovanni's attempt to rape her, asks her beau, Don Ottavio, to postpone their wedding for a year. Donna Elvira, possibly pregnant (from Scene XII, at her mention of her "condition"), decides that she must spend the rest of her life in a nunnery. Zerlina and Masetto, the ostensibly "happy" couple, resolved their differences way back in Act One, and their love is not re-tested after Zerlina's aria "Batti, batti, o bel Masetto", discussed below. The finale offers no further resolution for their relationship except to suggest that their newlywed life has been tainted by the discord and mistrust Giovanni forced between them.

Aside from a few frantic moments of "see how fast I can sing" - a technique of virtuosity that I particularly disliked in Rossini's The Barber of Seville, Mozart filled this opera with complex and moving arias. The coloratura singing was minimal, a fact I no not whether to credit to his original composition or to this particular performance. Either way, the restrained melodies revealed a sense of drama and emotion without clouding the issue with operatic parody. After all, the libretto opens with an attempted rape and a murder; there is no place for an excess of farce or vocal performances that detract from the underlying current of grief.

My two favorite arias illustrate this trend. First, "Dalla sua pace", Don Ottavio's ode to his betrothed, Donna Anna, is both lyrically and melodically beautiful:

On her peace of mind
My own depends;
Whatever pleases her
Gives me life,
Whatever grieves her
Makes me to die.
When she sighs,
I sigh as well;
Her anger is mine,
And mine are her tears;
Nothing do I value
Unless she values it too.

Nifty! And Blochwitz's clear, pure tenor was a joy to hear. The second is Zerlina's song of reconciliation to her new husband in "Batti, batti, o bel Masetto":

My fine Masetto, beat
Your poor Zerlina;
I'll keep still like a little lamb,
Waiting for your blows to fall.
I'll let you pull my hair
I'll let you gouge out my eyes,
And happily will I kill
Your dear hands.
Ah, I see that you haven't the heart;
Let us make peace, my dearest;
Content and happy,
We shall spend our nights and days.

Extreme? Yes, but that's opera. And besides, she nearly allowed herself become another of Don Giovanni's victims, so a little dramatic supplication might have been in order to appease her nearly-wronged spouse. What I found amazing about this aria is the gentle shift between her sing-song pleas for Masetto's punishment, composed in a lilting 2/2 time, to her entreaties for peace in a softer, almost seductive 6/8 time. The shift takes place in a single breath and completely changes the tone of the music to match the evolution of her pleas. Music + words. Wonderful.

Comedy? Tragedy? I like the fact that I cannot make a decision. It seems Mozart was radically ahead of his time... a little obvious, I know, but worth rediscovering here.

The Awakening (1899)

2006-04-21T09:47:00.000-07:00

By Kate Chopin

From Wikipedia: "Edna Pontellier, the wife of a successful New Orleans business man and the mother of two, vacations with her family at a seaside resort. She spends time with Robert Lebrun, a romantic young man who has decided to attach himself to Edna for the summer. After many intimate conversations, boating excursions, and moonlit walks, they both realize that they are developing romantic feelings for each other. Edna realizes that there is much within herself that has remained dormant throughout her adult life."

The complete Wikipedia entry can be found here.

In reviewing this novel, I am torn. One part of my brain admits to its significance within its historical context - both at its initial date of publication and upon its rediscovery in 1969 during a time when sexual and feminist roles were actively reexamined - but my contemporary self offered all manner of dismissive critiques as I read. Edna is irresponsible. Edna needs a good divorce lawyer. Edna needs to stop whining. Edna is in serious need of anti-depressants.

I was hardly in jest with that last sentence. Chopin described a woman in the midst of serious mood fluctuations and depressive bouts. However, to disregard Edna's concerns as merely a bundle of disfunctional emotions (even if that had been the case) would be to dismiss her as effectively as any other male character with whom she interacted.

The Wikipedia entry discusses several themes, one of which is "the need to be taken seriously." Of all Edna's discontents, I found that this one encompasses most of the elements of self-awareness and discovery Chopin portrays and has the most universal meaning. When a person (male or female) is not taken seriously, he or she inhabits the demeaned realm as children. If humans cannot find purpose, satisfaction and respect within the roles society deems appropriate, they cannot find contentment either.

(I mention men in this context because I imagine that many men throughout history have also been constrained within the bounds of society, and the lack of respect afforded their true selves must have created a similar sense of claustrophobia and ennui. Flash forward several decades to the much-hyped Brokeback Mountain, as one example, although homosexuality is not necessarily a prerequisite for male discontent).

The character of Madame Ratignolle found satisfaction and purpose in her extreme devotion to her family, a position that afforded her great respect within her community. "They [mother-women - Chopin's term] were women who idolized their children, worshipped their husbands, and esteemed it a holy privilege to efface themselves as individuals and grow wings as ministering angels" (10). Edna found no such satisfaction with the duties of her home life.

At a loss as to what other legitimate role she might assume for herself, and out of as much boredom as curiosity, she latches onto Robert as her object of infatuation and purpose. This would have been acceptable had Robert been her husband - but then, she would not have found him nearly so bewitching had they been married. The purpose and role she creates for herself is that of a clandestine, oppressed and deeply idealized lover, not a wife to one man or another. She says to Robert, at the climax of their association, "I give myself where I choose. If he [her husband] were to say, 'Here, Robert, take her and be happy; she is yours,' I should laugh at you both" (143).

Robert, for all of his love and devotion, cannot forego the pre-determined roles for men and women nor respect Edna's new sense of self as she desires. During his self-imposed exile in Mexico, he dreams of taking Edna as his wife. "Her seductive voice, together with his great love for her, had enthralled his senses, had deprived him of every impulse but the longing to hold her and keep her" (143). Edna seeks respect and the self-determination to find her own reason to wake up in the morning - something she had temporarily discovered in her infatuation for Robert - but Robert would change this unique spark of her personality if his bid to become her husband had been successful. Her pursuits - her whims, a much more trivializing term - and her bouts of melancholy might become as frivolous to Robert as they already were to her husband, and Edna realizes this eventually. "There was no human being whom she wanted near her except Robert; and she even realized that the day would come when he, too, and the thought of him would melt out of her existence, leaving her alone" (151).

According to the introduction by Marilynne Robinson, Chopin's original title for this novel was A Solitary Soul. Robinson writes:

The notion of transformation and advance conveyed in the present title, which she [Chopin] seems to have adopted at the suggestion of her publisher, obscures the slightness of the change in Edna. The awakenings that are described as occurring or about to occur throughout the novel tend merely to give new urgency to old impulses, to create an illusion of fresh departure, which prevents her from recognizing the familiarity and perhaps the inevitability of the choices she makes. (xx)

Supermom Madame Ratignolle did not begin a secret affair with a younger man - a scenario that would have been a much more shocking and all-together untenable awakening. No, the dissatisfied, bored woman already predisposed to infatuations and daydreams did.

I like the idea of Edna as solitary. She had no desire for the trappings of close associations, and her one significant confidant was that of Mademoiselle Reisz, a disagreeable widowed pianist who appreciated in Edna the presense of another outcast. However, whereas Mlle. Reisz was strong enough to forge a solitary existence for herself, Edna had no such resolve of strength and certainty of purpose.

I found two passages particularly telling with regard to Mlle. Reisz's influence on Edna and their relationship. First, when Edna's chosen stand-in for Robert, Arobin, wishes to talk about Edna's personality, she immediately asks if he knows Mlle. Reisz. Arobin replies, "I'm told she is extremely disagreeable and unpleasant. Why have you introduced her at a moment when I desired to talk of you?" (110). Arobin does not realize the connection in Edna's mind between herself and her "disagreeable" companion, and I doubt even Edna understood her natural impulse to infer a positive connection to Mlle. Reisz. When asked to discuss her personality, Edna found no adequate words to describe the confusion and isolation she feels. Mlle. Reisz is the natural shorthand for her every feeling of discontent.

The second passage relates Mlle. Reisz's concern that Edna is not strong enough to become her own woman, her own person. Edna tells Arobin,

...when I left her to-day, she put her arms around me and felt my shoulder blades, to see if my wings were strong, [and] she said, "The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth." (110)

Moments before the conclusion of the novel, Edna witnesses the heavily symbolic mirror to her own confusion: "A bird with a broken wing was beating the air above, reeling, fluttering, circling disabled, down, down to the water" (152).

Perhaps with so few examples of how she could live, Edna found the task of living itself too strenuous and unfulfilling - hence the importance of this novel. In 2006, examples of myriad lifestyles and paths for attaining (self) respect abound, even though the way can still be a difficult one, but in 1899 or 1969, women actively and greedily sought the new, invigorating - and, tritely, liberating - voices of others who dared to live according to their own devices. I understand this. I appreciate this. But, from an enter- tainment standpoint, I tired of Edna's self-pity.

Vocab: accouchements (French for deliveries), befurbelowed, effulgence, pirogue, pompano

Edition: Bantam Classic (1992) with an introduction by Marilynne Robinson ©1988

Corpse Bride (2005)

2006-04-21T08:34:00.000-07:00

Johnny Depp (Victor), Helena Bonham Carter (Corpse Bride), Emily Watson (Victoria), Richard E. Grant (Lord Barkis)

Directed by Tim Burton (Edward Scissorhands)

From IMDB: "When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her."

I would have found this film much more amusing when I was nine - old enough to find the dancing skeletons funny rather than frightening, and young enough to enjoy the predictable, fairy tale storyline and the terrible puns. The highly touted vocal talent lent nothing substantial to the overall production. Depp was lifeless (ha ha), Bonham Carter was cheeky but not uniquely so, and Watson was sappy and droll. I am not a huge fan of the Burton style (which is always accompanied by the Danny Elfman style), and with few other saving graces to break up the intensity of their influences, it was just too BURTON and ELFMAN.

I am a good span of time hence from nine years old and even the short 77 minute duration of Corpse Bride was too long for me.

Richard III (1995)

2006-04-18T14:41:00.000-07:00

Ian McKellen (Richard III), Annette Bening (Elizabeth), Jim Broadbent (Buckingham), Robert Downey Jr. (Rivers)

Directed by Richard Loncraine (Firewall)

From IMDB: "The classic Shake- spearian play about a murderously scheming king staged in an alternative fascist England setting."

My interest in Richard is waning after over-exposure, so here I present a brief run-down of observations about the nature of this production, particularly the portrayal of certain characters.

Richard: McKellen playfully, maliciously portrays Richard with no serious attempt at realism. This is pure melodrama and theater. As such, McKellen renders a much more ruthless Richard than would a "serious" portrayal, where realism necessitates some mediation between the character's highs and lows as he swings from sadistic joy to crippling paranoia. Brilliant, savvy, energetic acting.

Lady Anne: Her decision to marry Richard is based on a latent death wish. That makes sense! And her accelerating drug use fits perfectly as Richard destroys her soul.

Rivers: Who believes that the middle-class brother to a queen consort would possibly partake in the excesses of his newly-endowed titles? And to be portrayed by Robert Downey, Jr. of all people! The man is a saint, and his interpretation of Rivers is completely out of keeping with his public persona.... ahem.

Elizabeth: I got it right, apparently, when I concluded that Elizabeth never actually agreed to consign her daughter to a life as Richard's wife. She tells Richard what he wants to hear, but Shakespeare did not include a scene where her acquiescence is portrayed in fact. Bening's Elizabeth says she will, as per usual, but then she happily watches over the marriage between Richmond and her daughter. The filmmakers did a nice job of tweaking the order of certain events to leave this Elizabeth completely without taint and in full possession of her willful backbone.

Richmond: He won because he got laid before battle. Makes sense to me.

Tyrrel: For the sake of brevity, and to intensify the fascist elements of this interpretation, McKellen and Loncraine merged several minor characters to create the über-hitman, Tyrrel. In Shakespeare's drama, Tyrrel is responsible for killing only the two young princes, and he expresses remorse afterwards. Here, Tyrrel becomes the executioner to five different characters and never says a word about regrets or moralistic doubts. Where there is murder to be done, Tyrrel is the man to do it. He exists as the representation of every pitbull SS lock-step henchman who ever committed acts of atrocity for the sake of another individual's rule. Scary, actually.

Ratcliff: In Shakespeare's play, Ratcliff is just another pro-Richard supporter. One of few, Ratcliff's loyalty never wavers. But why? Every other character has cause to support Richard when they see personal power to be gained, but they promptly abandon him when his downfall is apparent or his hold over their safety is relinquished and they can betray him without fear of losing their lives. Yet Ratcliff stays. McKellen, who is openly gay, presents a very subtle explanation.

Ratcliff is Richard's... special friend. He massages Richard's deformed arm, eliciting moans of pleasure from his liege. He is the last one to depart Richard's tent the night before Bosworth Field, after serving Richard his supper and wine. The suggestion of an intimacy between them also fits with Richard's overt rejection of Anne during her drug-induced play for his masculine attention. Then, too, the sexual dichotomy is more forcefully implied: Richmond, who finds satisfaction with his nubile young wife the night before battle, is victorious, while Richard, who denies Ratcliff's company and suffers a fretful evening of nightmares, is vanquished.

Hmmmm.... I wonder if that was what Shakespeare had in mind?

"Bleak House" (2005)

2006-04-16T14:27:00.000-07:00

Anna Maxwell Martin (Esther), Charles Dance (Tulkinghorn), Denis Lawson (John Jarndyce), Gillian Anderson (Lady Dedlock)

Directed by Justin Chadwick and Susanna White

From the DVD packaging: "Out of an interminable court case spin three young people each searching for their place in the world. Their story moves fast - swirling through an incredible array of characters - from passionate young lovers to ruthless lawyers, from an ice-cold aristocratic beauty to a shrewd, relentless detective - until the final thrilling climax. It has always been recognized as one of Charles Dickens' literary masterworks, but this 'Bleak House' is now fast-moving, daring, gripping television. Here is the murder mystery, the love story, the comic genius, and the tantalizing scandal of the novel but, stripped of its sentimentality, we find ourselves swept along by a pulsating and edgy drama."

Dickens was a fantastic writer of social commentary and satire. I cannot imagine how frightening some of his work must have been to the aristocracy and ruling class of his time. Today, he is lumped in with all manner of stodgy English classics, a tendency that belittles his impact as a reformer and firebrand. Bleak House, for all of its convoluted plots and intricate coincidences, is as much a call to reform as Sinclair's The Jungle was in the United States' Progressive Era. According to Dickens, the situations were comparable. The arcane, tedious, expensive, corrupt Chancery system of law had the potential to (patiently) destroy lives as effectively as unsafe factories.

Morality tales abound in Bleak House, far too many to analyze in great depth, but without an abundance of trite, predictable conclusions. In general, the good fair well and the bad fair poorly. Except for Ada. Except for Mr. Smallweed. Except for John Jarndyce. And Nemo. And Jo. And Guppy. And Skimpole. None of those characters receives the morally appropriate ending he or she deserves. Because his larger intention was to draw attention to the failing legal system, Dickens could not afford to trivialize his work with stereotypes and foregone conclusions. To do so would have distracted from the very real problems he described. Thus, despite the fact that "Bleak House" concludes with one long-awaited happy ending, there are a number of unhappy endings and several... endings, neither good nor bad... all of which added to the believability of the entire narrative arc.

The plot is so convoluted and the cast of characters so significant that I was at a loss - mid-way through - to understand where the thing was taking me. I appreciated this appeal to my curiosity because, after so many Austen-like costume dramas, unpredictability is refreshing! The murder, mentioned in the plot summary above, does not even take place until the end of episode 11 (of 15). Talk about a slow boil!

Much of the credit for the success of this adaptation must be given to Andrew Davies, the screenwriter who also adapted His High Firthness's "Pride and Prejudice" back in 1995. By my count, Davies omitted only 11 out of Dickens' original 54 characters (and added one, that I caught), deftly handling their portrayals to allow significant development despite all of the shared screen time.

In concert with Davies' sreenplay, the directors worked to speed the action to a remarkable degree. With a LOT of ground to cover, Chadwick and White made use of quick cuts, and they abandoned lingering scene transitions. If a character said she was off to London, the next scene took place in London! While disconcerting at first, in that the abandonment of such screen conventions made time progression a little difficult to judge, I liked the rapid-fire pacing. Slow, panoramic shots of the countryside and ladies on horseback were notably, refreshingly absent. No time! Get on with the story!

Because of the steady, building nature of the tale, I was grateful for the compact timeframe in which I had to watch all eight hours. Nothing really gets going until the conclusion of episode four, roughly, which all but guarantees that I would have missed an installment here and there when it was broadcast on PBS in the autumn, perhaps to the point of giving up on the whole venture. That would have been a shame. Instead, because I had only a week to watch this library rental, I absorbed the series in huge chunks, which added an extra immediacy to my viewing and heightened my interest in its conclusion.

This slow boil development also allowed for considerable turn-abouts amongst the characters. I was suspicious of certain persons who turned out all goodness and loyalty. I was intrigued by the main villain because he was not a villain until the story deepened. I have not read the novel so I do not know whether I should credit Dickens or the filmmakers for this subtlety, but the credit is well deserved.

The acting, as you might guess from a BBC drama, was very fine. Anna Maxwell Martin, as Dickens' co-narrator, Esther (seen above in the second portrait), was the heart and soul of this adaptation. Her goodness and solidity was neither annoying, cloying, martyred, or overstated. She was just a nice, deserving young woman. Wedge, too, was a welcome addition to the cast. I never before saw him in anything but Star Wars flicks and Local Hero, so I loved having the chance to appreciate his talents in the vastly more complex role of John Jarndyce (third portrait). Charles Dance exuded confidence and crafty mechanizations without the false, overwrought nastiness of other clever film baddies, and Richard Harrington, as Allan Woodcourt, was a lovely, tasty dish (fourth portrait). He was "Bleak House"'s Mr. Darcy, but without all the contrivances - just a man in love and working hard to do right in the world. His "love me" speech was well worth the seven hours of build-up. Keen! And finally, Gillian Anderson (first portrait) was able to hold herself in such a way as to create a most brittle, icy, prickly posture. The tension in her neck spoke volumes! And her accent wasn't half bad either...

Have eight hours to invest on a quality adapted classic? Start here. This "Bleak House" is rewarding, innovative, and just plain entertaining.

Richard III (2003)

2006-04-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's The Life and Death of King Richard III (1592)

Vol. IV of The Complete Ark- angel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; David Troughton (Richard III), Sonia Ritter (Elizabeth), Philip Voss (Buck- ingham), Saskia Wickham (Anne)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

As what is essentially the last part of the Henry VI story arc, Richard III is a difficult play when one approaches it cold. However, as I have worked my way through the Henry VI plays, parts One, Two and Three, since mid-February, I found these characters and their histories easily accessible. To arrive at Richard's door, I experienced all of his prequels - a very helpful, enriching prologue to an otherwise jumbled cast of dizzying complexity and interwoven alliances, betrayals, and ambitions.

Shakespeare's obvious ode to Elizabeth's lineage and her greatness as England's contemporary queen, as I mentioned in my reviews of parts Two and Three, continues here with the heroic arrival of Henry Tudor of Richmond - the eventual King Henry VII and Elizabeth's grandfather. The man who vanquishes the most hated villain of all (Shakespearian) history inevitably becomes the patriarch of the most venerable and esteemed ruling house in English history. The worse the villain, the most noble and worthy his vanquisher. And Richard is as nasty as they come.

So why, the standard question bears, are the women in this play so wishy-washy and subject to the sick charms of such a horrible, "foul bunch-backed toad"? I will give Shakespeare the benefit of the doubt, trapped as he was in the mindset of a late 16th century male, that his portrayal of both Lady Anne Neville and Edward IV's widow, Queen Elizabeth (Woodville), demonstrated the relative powerless- ness of even the highest-ranking aristocratic women.

Sure, we'll give him that, and I have reason to be so generous. Richard is a scheming, wretched creature with keen observational and manipulative qualities... until he become king and starts to go mad with paranoia and plaguing guilt. He is not Shakespeare's voice; in fact, most of what comes out of Richard's mouth is as far away from Shakespeare's congratulatory, pro-Tudor aims as can be. Therefore, Richard's observations, particularly toward the last acts, must be treated with suspicion or as outright contradictions to Shakespeare's political observations.

In scene Act IV, scene iv, the tremendous, tense encounter in which Queen Elizabeth spars with Richard over the murders of her two sons and the future of her daughter, also Elizabeth, Richard says of the deposed queen: "Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman!" If this line is read as Shakespeare's voice, the tone is condemnatory and contemptuous. However, because King Richard can no longer be trusted as representing the author's opinion (if he ever could be), we can surmise that Shakespeare was sympathetic toward (or at least rationally forgiving of) Elizabeth's decision to let her daughter marry Richard (the girl's uncle), thereby securing Richard's hold on the throne.

Richard had just had Elizabeth's eldest two boys murdered. What fate could her daughter, as the next in legal succession, expect if she did not accept what was, essentially, Richard's offer of a stay of execution? Despite Elizabeth's title as the most powerful woman in the country, the lives of her children were subject to much more influential and relenting (masculine) forces. The choice for her daughter, then, was marriage to Richard - thereby becoming the queen herself - or death. What a choice! Richard scorned her change of heart as she relented to his proposition, but I think Shakespeare's intention was not so hard-hearted.

And, as an aside, we never see Elizabeth go through with her stated agreement to woo her daughter on Richard's behalf. She knows, or would be soon privy to the knowledge, that Henry Tudor of Richmond was arriving from France to defeat Richard's armies. The act of relenting, in the moment, may have been a tactic on her part to stay Richard's hand, temporarily, and wait for the cavalry that would ensure a safe future for her children. This, in fact, occurs; the historic Henry Tudor married Elizabeth York, a marriage that ended the War of the Roses and re-unified the ruling aristocracy of England. She became queen after all, as part of a more fortuitous (and less incestuous) match - a union that Shakespeare celebrated with great flourishes of effusive language.

O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
And let their heirs, - God, if thy will be so, -
Enrich the time to come with smooth fac'd peace
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!

The other of Richard's female conquests is Lady Anne, the widow to Henry VI's oldest son and intended heir, Edward of Westminster. In Act I, scene ii, Richard seduces Anne with a deceitful blend of tactics. But wait! He killed her husband and her father-in-law! What the hell?? Why didn't this chicky just kick the bastard in the balls? The problem of her submission to his proposal has been one of the central problems in Richard III ever since there have been historians and literary scholars to debate the issue.

However, if you take Shakespeare's position on aristocratic women as being one of abject practicality - these are women who have been trained from birth to accept the idea of arranged, political marriages - then Anne is not so changing. She is self-preserving. After all, her late husband was heir to the defeated Lancaster line. Her sister married Richard's older brother, George of Clarence, thereby joining the victorious York household. Think about Anne's prospects as the widow of a deposed heir, as the daughter of a man killed in the Roses conflict, and whose other family members had jumped ship for the safety of the ruling House of York? Who stood to protect her, provide for her, when all of aristocratic power centers on alliances and mutual benefit? When Richard came knocking - however much she may have reviled the prospect - she was a smart cookie for grabbing the only lifeboat looking to save her.

Had Richard been a normal guy, this would have been a good choice. Shakespeare has Anne killed at Richard's hand, although the historic record indicates that she most likely succumbed to tuberculosis. Ah well.. details! Who needs 'em? Certainly not The Bard.

Because I took such pains to learn the history behind these characters (sorry... history grad... hard to shake the habits), I was disturbed by Shakespeare's serious timeline issues. Everything moved at lightening speed. Some characters aged dramatically between the end of the Henry VI trilogy and the start of Richard III, while one lingering corpse had not yet been buried. Ew! And, come the end of the play, Richard's full-blown villainy is just too preposterous to be convincing. Lost is the sense of successful, genuine scheming that must have marked Richard's life to some extent, regardless of the historical basis for corruption and murder.

A brief note about the production: David Troughton, who played Richard in the second and third Henry VI plays, showed a remarkable amount of restraint during those previous incarnations - but screw it! This is the big show! His Richard is vile and icky throughout, with a demented sense of amusement with his own plots. Good stuff! But, apparently, the play's text remains a point of contention among scholars because my version, a complete collection of Shakespeare's plays from the mid-70s, revealed numerous textual differences from the audio dramatization (which used the Complete Pelican Shakespeare). The 30+ years of (mind-numbing) scholarship since the publication of my copy has produced 40+ revisions to the canonical text, which just goes to prove how lasting and popular this work is - whereas the lesser-known Henry plays differed by maybe four or five words each.

That said, the play is just fun... once you get past all of the tall stacks of historical stuff. With a vile, hated villain comes some pretty fierce fightin' words and entertaining, high-end soap opera-quality melodrama. Poor historical Richard will never recover from this, the most infamous blow against his reign and character. History just cannot compete with Shakespeare.

Quotes

A citizen, about the impending doom of Richard's reign: "When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; / When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; / When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? / Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. / All may be well; but, if God sort it so, / 'Tis more than we deserve or I expect."

Richard, to his nephew: "Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years / Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit."

Lord Hastings: "To fly the boar before the boar pursues / Were to incense the boar to follow us, / And make pursuit where he did mean no chase."

Queen Elizabeth to the deposed Queen Margaret: "O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, / And teach me how to curse mine enemies." Margaret's reply: "Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day, / Compare dead happiness with living woe; / Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, / And he that slew them fouler than he is."

Henry Tudor: "True hope is swift, and flies with swallows' wings; / Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings."

Richard: "Conscience is but a word that cowards use, / Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe."

Vocab & References

halberd, falchion, moiety, denier (trifle), cog (deceit), Jacks (male ass), costard (head), cacodemon, dugs (boobies), consistory, opprobriously, attainder, parlous, hies, recure, cockatrice (excellent!), teen (grief - ironic!), caitiff, intestate, cozened, Lethe, runagate, beaver (armor), cock-shut, peise, caparison, welkin

The Wedding Crashers (2005)

2006-04-09T18:07:00.000-07:00

Owen Wilson (John), Vince Vaughn (Jeremy), Christopher Walken (William Cleary), Rachel McAdams (Claire)

Directed by David Dobkin (Shanghai Knights)

From IMDB: "John Beckwith and Jeremy Grey, a pair of committed womanizers who sneak into weddings to take advantage of the romantic tinge in the air, find themselves at odds with one another when John meets and falls for a well-to-do daughter."

A quick review now, because this film merits now considerable discussion. It was funny, but with a lower laugh per minute ratio than we experienced with The 40-Year Old Virgin. The best, by far, was Vince Vaughn's face at the dinner table...

Rachel McAdams... I am still undecided about her. Nice enough girl, great laugh, shapely, but her three major appearances in The Notebook, Red Eye and this film have not solidified in my mind. I do not dislike her, but I have not found any special spark or quality that will compel me to see movies in which she stars. Time will tell.

Runaway (2004)

2006-04-09T11:28:00.000-07:00

By Alice Munro

Summary by Peter Darbyshire for Amazon: "The stories take place throughout Canada and feature women and men drifting in and out of each other's orbits, pulled by forces they don't understand. In 'Runaway,' a woman considers leaving her husband with the help of a neighbor, but the husband has other plans. In 'Chance,' a woman leaves her life behind in a quest for a man she met on a train crossing the country. Their intertwined lives play out through two more stories, 'Soon' and 'Silence,' but the path they follow is as unpredictable to the reader as it is to them."

I read this book as the April selection for the MOMS Book Club. No other inducement could have persuaded me to finish the thing. Written by Canada's most acclaimed short fiction writer, this collection of seven tales read as an aging woman's examination of youth and her subsequent attempts to reconcile young adult impressions and emotions with a lifetime of experiences. Each story, although rendered with agile, succinct prose, failed to deliver on Munro's carefully crafted, underlying network of tension.

Had this been a novel, I would have thought it well worth reading until its finale, at which point I would have been vastly disappointed with a ho-hum conclusion. As it was, each short story provided a mini arc of build-up concluded by boredom or frustration. Munro took pains to create undercurrents of violence that hardly ever burst forth and to thoroughly develop each character, although they were relatively similar (awkward, socially outcast girls who remain on the fringe of society or bookish, insecure, coming- into-their-own young women who become well turned-out elderly ladies - and the men who inhabit their lives) - all of which consistently led to a mediocre finish. Each little disappointment made the reading process tedious, knowing I had X number of these tales yet to read, and created a rhythm of dull monotony. Ok, here we go again...

Either that, or I just cannot relate to a writer whose perspective in life is so vastly distant from mine. Perhaps this would have been fantastic read if I, too, was a woman in my mid-70s, reminiscing and nodding approvingly at Munro's observations and subtleties.

That aside, I am getting very tired of serious literary authors who haven't the guts to give at least one story in ten a happy ending. They fear being trite, but I get tired of all the unhappiness. Who lives in such a desperate fashion so consistently? Sigh.

Vocab: caryatid, maenads, thaumaturgy

The Constant Gardener (2005)

2006-04-07T21:36:00.000-07:00

Ralph Fiennes (Justin Quayle), Rachel Weisz (Tessa Quayle), Hubert Koundé (Arnold Bluhm), Danny Huston (Sandy Woodrow)

Directed by Fernando Meirelles (City of God)

Plot: A widower is determined to get to the bottom of a potentially explosive secret involving his wife's murder, big business, and corporate corruption. Based on the novel by John le Carré

I prefer the original American movie poster - with Ralph's lovely neck and him tenderly nuzzling Weisz - as opposed to the home video release. The DVD cover is much fussier, with explosions that were not actually in the film and more to do with the espionage plot. Granted it is a spy movie, but his neck is so nice!

Ralph Fiennes has no Oscar. Rachel Weisz does. Painful and strange...

That said, I did not mind her at all in this role. She was far less annoying than in any previous film I've seen of hers (The Mummy, Chain Reaction, About a Boy, Sunshine, and Enemy at the Gates), to the point where I actually sympathized with her character. She did not make the film unwatchable. Good job! Weisz carried the first 45 minutes almost by herself, during which time Tessa Quayle's investigations are related in flashback, and she did so with a balance of laughter, shrewishness and charm. Did she deserve the best supporting actress Oscar for this accomplishment? Maybe... but preventing the ruination of an otherwise decent film is a commendable act.

In its entirety, The Constant Gardener is as grandiose and high-reaching as any spy thriller writers like le Carré would have created 25 years ago about Soviet war games and shady Iron Curtain dealings. But now, with the Cold War usual suspects long since extinct as potential Big Bads, le Carré and others have turned to supra-national agencies as villains - in this case, the pharmaceutical industry. Well chosen! Whereas a spy thriller limited to nations and national power struggles would seem terribly dated now, that same format takes on new life with believable, credible power here, even if the conventions remain. The lone rebel. The black cars and death threats. The nasty politicians in high places. Thugs. Imperiled children. Personal betrayals.

Did the plot feel like a contrivance generated solely for entertainment? No. Did it sound like a far-fetched conspiracy theory? No. The Constant Gardener was a depressing and upsetting film primarily because of its success in convincing me that these deals are taking place right now, somewhere in a place from which no truthful voices are emerging for us to hear. Meirelles' technique of briefly focuses on various national landmarks in Britain served to highlight the film's overall claim of British national collusion with the corrupt companies. The implication is that these companies cannot succeed in their plots without government cooperation.

Then I remembered that I saw this same issue in a film about 13 years ago, only back then it was set in Chicago and starred Harrison Ford. Here, the exotic setting and locale successfully served to shed light on multiple crises afflicting contemporary Africa, but I felt no sense of shock or surprise with any of the plot revelations. The Fugitive covered most of that territory already, only with Tommy Lee Jones as opposed to Gardener's small roles for Bill Nighy and Pete Postlethwaite. And yes, Pete did an accent. This time... South African!

Fiennes was, as you might suspect I would say, attractive and very good. He lacked the personal charisma of a part like Laszlo de Almásy in The English Patient, but he moved through this film with purpose and a lack of pretense or artifice. He played a rather nice, ordinary, mild-mannered (English)man, his first such role since... um... Quiz Show, probably, while still convincing me that his character had the necessary backbone and balls (anatomy!) to carry out his mission. No distracting accents. No multi-generational storylines. No Jennifer Lopez. Just good old fashioned emoting.

Annoying: the issue of their dead infant was never explained. What up with that? In trying to cast doubt on the stability of their marriage, the director left that entire plot line too obscure and completely unresolved. Grrrrr.

Am I generally a fan of spy movies? Not really. I would not have watched this film without Ralph Fiennes and solid reviews, but it was worth the while. You will be reminded to think twice - as if any of us really require the motivation to do so - about the companies and conspiracies behind those bloody annoying drug ads on the tele.

Oh, and one person can make a difference, yada yada...

Now go do your part.

Girl with a Pearl Earring (2003)

2006-04-04T10:02:00.000-07:00

Colin Firth (Vermeer), Scarlett Johansson (Griet), Tom Wilkinson (Pieter Van Ruijven), Cillian Murphy (Pieter)

Directed by Peter Webber

Plot: A young peasant maid working in the house of painter Johannes Vermeer becomes his talented assistant and the model for his most famous work. From the novel by Tracy Chevalier.

Four of my new release library holds came in this week, so I've been movie crazy!

I like Tracy Chevalier's books well enough, without being one of her biggest fans. They are very readable, historically thick, and without any of the sentimentality or naughtiness of some historical romance and fiction. While I prefer her rough, flawed fisrt novel, The Virgin Blue, to her more recent, accomplished works, they are all ripe for the Hollywood treatment. That is, they are ready-made to be cluttered with poor costuming decisions and stripped of their emotional uniqueness.

Girl with a Pearl Earring, for all of its notoriety, was memorable to me for only two particular scenes...scenes that captured the essence of the novel's main themes, obsession and resilience...scenes that unknown director Peter Webber chose to leave out of his movie adaptation. Let me explain.

First, I remember the moment of high dramatic tension when Vermeer has to pierce Griet's ear so she can model the pearl earring. The act is superfluous. He is talented enough and uses models to such a degree that her wearing the earring is not truly necessary to finish his painting. The point of the act--his demand that she honor his request--is a manifestation of their obsession and unfulfilled sexual energy. He pierces her, as if taking her virginity. Fine. That was in the film.

Chevalier continues the scene in the novel to demonstrate the great lengths to which Vermeer goes in testing Griet. And she lets him. She allows herself to be tested, to be marked by him. Vermeer insists that he pierce the other ear, too, even though the three-quarter profile of the pose would keep it hidden. He explains that the weight of her head and the appearance of her posture will reflect the fact that the other ear remains whole. He would know, and that knowledge would appear in the painting. She relents. He pierces the other ear.

The scene is prolonged, vaguely sickening and desperate, serving as the climax of their relationship, and it was not in the movie, much to my disappointment. One piercing, as portrayed in the film, serves as a plain means to an end--she must model the earring. The novel's second piercing reveals Griet's thrill at being singled out by Vermeer, his need to possess her to the greatest extent he might allow himself, and the scope of their unnatural, mutual obsession.

Strike one.

Second, the conclusion of the novel serves to relate Griet's resilience as she returns to life after Vermeer. She is given the earrings when leaves his employ. I cannot remember who gave them to her--whether the wife was disgusted by the sight of them or whether Vermeer gave them to her as a token. Either way, she winds up with the earrings. This is the conclusion of the film. Suck!

The novel describes what Griet does with the pearls: after hesitating and wondering if she should hold onto them as a keepsake of her time with Vermeer, she sells them and pockets the money so as to begin her life with Pieter, the butcher. She is practical, unsentimental, and resigned to her life. It is a good life, after all, paired with a worthy man of equal status and gainful employment. Because she has no practical use for the earrings, she exchanges them for something of value: cash.

Perhaps in an attempt to add more sentimentality to an otherwise sparse, cold film, the director left this rather mercenary finale out of his picture, much to its discredit. He missed the entire point, that of a woman's resiliency and talent for self-preservation, both physically and emotionally, in the face of disappointment and the relative helplessness of her station. In making her choice to sell the earrings, she was not helpless. She had agency. Webber left his Griet looking like a soggy mope with no backbone and no future.

Strike two.

And there were no freakin' checkerboard floors in the attic. I ask you, what is Vermeer without the freakin' overuse of checkerboard floors?

Strike three.

Other strikes include hideous, hideous hair and questionable, inconsistent accents. After all, what happy medium would an American, two Englishmen, and an Irishman come up with to portray the sound of 17th century Dutch people? A mess. Tom Wilkinson's character was unnaturally creepy as the stereotypical, cartoonish, depraved aristocrat. And whereas Chevalier was keen on relating the urban, diverse nature of Delft, I felt only a claustrophobic sense of "village" from the film, as if the filmmakers could not be bothered to create more than two streets for external shots. This period marked the height of Dutch influence as a world power, but none of that success or grandeur was apparent here.

Then there was the blatant abuse of hyper-attractive talent. Keven adores Scarlett Johansson. I think she is cute enough, but I have no special fondness for her. Here, her Lost in Translation-style spark is snuffed. She portrayed a maid of low status and high insecurity, but the agency and determination I described above was absent from every expression. Why were all these men making such a fuss about her? The attraction is never clear.

Girl with a Pearl Earring, surprisingly, highlights what a good actor His High Firthness is. His Vermeer is a distressed, spineless, taciturn, creepy arty type. I know he tried to use the same sort of Darcy-esque stares, but it just came across as desperate. What is appealing about a man with eight kids, a pregnant wife, a domineering mother-in-law, a horny and difficult patron, and meager income who lusts after a teenaged maid? His performance proved to me that Firth is not naturally desirable, but his talent when portraying more assertive, arrogant, thoughtful characters makes him so.

Cillian Murphy, however, is fascinating and kinetically, irrepressibly sexy. Even the hideous, hideous hair and Peter Pan clothes could not distract me (too much) from his wicked cheekbones and translucent, ever-vigilant, incisive eyes. Pieter, in the novel, is a lowly man-boy who attracts Griet because of his relative stability. He is not her dream lover; he is a soft place to fall from the heights of Vermeer's short-lived attentions. Cillian Murphy made the possibility of building a life with Pieter infinitely more appealing than living under Vermeer's creepy old man gaze, thus creating a distortion of interpersonal dynamics that did no justice to the novel...

...and I didn't like the book that much. The movie was just poor.

Brothers (2004)

2006-04-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

Connie Nielsen (Sarah), Ulrich Thomsen (Michael), Nikolaj Lie Kaas (Jannik)

Directed by Susanne Bier (Dogme #28: Elsker dig for evigt)

Language: Danish (and some English)

Plot: Michael is proud of his successful military career, his lovely wife, Sarah, and their two daughters. His younger brother, Jannik, is a drifter living on the edge of the law. When Michael is sent to Afghanistan on a UN mission, the balance between the two brothers changes forever. Michael becomes missing in action and is presumed dead, Sarah is left alone and finds comfort in Jannik who, against all odds, shows himself capable of taking responsibility for himself and his brother's family.

Ah, this is the Danish cinema we should all know (so as to avoid Danish people for fear of contagious depression) - repressed and catastrophically, irredeemably dark. None of that cute, flouncing humor in Kinamand. While billed (in the scant publicity I found, mostly on Rotten Tomatoes' upcoming DVD releases) as a "torn between two brothers" sexual thriller, the theme of Brothers was seriously more powerful and much less melodramatic: how does a good man live with a deed he cannot undo? I had no idea that such a dilemma would be the centerpiece of this movie, but I was glad for the surprise. As I mentioned with Red Eye, trailers can give away too much, and I benefited here from an ignorance of this movie's true meaning.

In the world of international actors trying to make it in the American (and sometimes British) film industry, there are roughly three categories of success. The first consists of Commonwealth types (Brits, Kiwis, Aussies, etc.) who populate moody dramas, fill the roles of villains, and occasionally achieve name recognition with the general American populace. An ability to affect an English accent and a willingness to don period costumes is a must. The third category is filled with the ranks of national celebrities who are never feature in productions outside of their respective countries. These actors exist in their homeland as iconic, popular superstars. They are and remain "foreign" and largely unknown here.

The second, middle class of international actors is more diverse and difficult to describe. Andy Lau is the most successful pop star in the history of east Asian music, yet his appearance in The House of Flying Daggers garnered no hysterics in the States. Thomas Kretschmann is a superstar in Germany, but he has struggled into only minor Hollywood roles. And no westerner can judge the phenomenal popularity of Aishwarya Rai. These actors earn their bread, butter, and accolades at home, but a certain something lends them the nerve and opportunity to try their hands at American cinema, too - even if the roles they land are of substantially lower profile than they are used to.

Ulrich Thomsen exists in this second category. He has made dozens of Danish films over the years, with a particularly memorable performance in the Dogme classic Festen, while earning minor appearances in the Bond flick The World Is Not Enough and an appearance on "Alias". This small toe- hold is a start toward a career outside of Denmark. I would not be surprised at any international success he can achieve, because he creates a convincing, powerful combination of tenderness, steel, and the potential for madness.

Connie Nielsen, however, lingers between the first and second world. If any American knows her name or roles, such as in Gladiator, they would probably assume she was some Commonwealth talent, but she has not achieved the overt, widespread fame of, say, Kate Winslet. She has been so successful in mainstream Hollywood that Brothers is the first Danish-language film in which she has starred, as opposed to most international actors who spend years on home-language pictures before making their big break. But with the body and cheekbones of a goddess, who can be surprised? She appears as some mid-way cross between the overt sexuality of Charlize Theron (right) and the refined poise of Annette Bening (center) - with the magnif- icent on-screen abilities of both. Director Susanne Bier accessed Nielsen's charisma with dramatic lighting and patient camera work, accentuating every nuance of her expressions. She was at the heart of this film, even if the story centered, surprisingly, on the progression of Thomsen's character.

So, what happened in Afghanistan? That becomes the big question. I will say that Bier managed to create a scene of harrowing tension and ferocity - the most grim cinematic murder since Heavenly Creatures. She ditched the restrictions of the Dogme school to good effect, particularly with regard to lighting and the use of music. The score was lush, dissonant (without being painful), and created an overall sense of menace that added greatly to the progression of the story. However, while shedding the peculiarities of Dogme puritanism, she kept many of the grittier techniques such as handheld camera work, unusual close-ups, and the occasional digitized images. She overused none of these tricks, thankfully, but slipped them in during important moments, for emphasis. After all, who wants to see an entire film of dizzying handheld footage?

And what of the titular brothers? As if a whole person had been split in two, these men – unified - would create a whole person. Jannick emerges from prison as a casual, unlikable, arrogant, hollow soul, resentful and proud of his brother's life. Michael returns to Denmark hollowed in turn and feeling only fear and hatred toward the happy new existence his brother has created in his stead. The tension and love between them was remarkably well developed and shimmering with realistic angst.

(I laugh to think that only a woman could so acutely represent the dense, understated emotion between two brothers. Real brothers, describing their relationship, might limit their remarks to sports and hot women.)

Nielsen was not caught between these two men, as the poster and descriptions might suggest, but between memories of her husband and his new, heart-broken self. The interpersonal dynamics were sharp, well acted, and fascinating to watch. I was heart-broken myself, at the conclusion, and Bier offered no easy answers for their plight. In that sense, Danish cinema (when done well, such as here) is not so much intentionally depressing as it is triumphant in portraying - unsentimentally and without melodrama - the most painful realities life can create.

War of the Worlds (2005)

2006-04-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

Tom Cruise (Ray Ferrier), Dakota Fanning (Rachel Ferrier), Tim Robbins (Harlan Ogilvy)

Directed by Steven Spielberg (Raiders of the Lost Ark)

Plot: Ray Ferrier is a working-class man living in New Jersey. He is self-centered and estranged from his family until his small town life is violently shaken by the arrival of destructive intruders. As aliens plow through the country in a wave of mass destruction and violence, Ray must come to the defense of his children while humanity struggles for its very survival.

I cannot think of a film more opposed to the movies I saw on Friday night (Sweet Land and Kinamand). This was 100% lame Hollywood schlock: overblown, inconsistent, implausible, and heartless. Spielberg had better make a decent film soon or I will be forced to concede that his importance and influence as a filmmaker is well ended. Not since Saving Private Ryan has he directed a movie worth watching.

Tom Cruise displayed a sort of genuine likeability in his last Spielberg pairing, Minority Report, but that quality was absent in this role. He harnessed the callous, aloof nature of his public face in order to create - perhaps unwittingly - an unsympathetic character that trod on our fondness for previous performances, much as the man he played, an ex-husband and irresponsible father, tried to win over his children. But his tricks are stale and tired. I rolled my eyes at his winning smile as often as did his on-screen kids.

I have been too busy with many projects to go into depth about the numerous and painful inconsistencies featured here. Suffice it to say they were distracting, illogical, and often downright laughable. I played MST3K right from the start. But I will suggest that the finale was so impossible that I was convinced, momentarily, that it was all a dream as Tom's sad dad breathed his last. But know. We were supposed to swallow that fairy tale ending whole. Perhaps John Anderton was still in his prison pod, dreaming of exoneration?

Yes, yes, Dakota Fanning has the biggest eyes in movies, but even she could not rouse my sympathies. If anyone knows anything about me, it is that pathetic, endangered little girls get the best of me (nearly) every time. Apparently, the silliness and excess of this picture immunized me against even the doe-eyed Miss Fanning's emotive potential.

Ultimately, in Spielberg's attempt to put a new spin on an old story, he created yet another loophole of illogic. If the aliens had buried their machines underground a million of years ago, they must have made contact with Earth's flora and fauna at some point - thereby providing them with an inoculating exposure to make them resistant the very bacteria that proved their downfall in Wells' novel. Novelty is not enough to sustain a picture, especially when it ruins the simple premise of the original.

Ick.

But the flaming train was nice.

Mozart's Birthday Bash

2006-04-02T11:27:00.000-07:00

By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Performers: Matthias Kirschnereit, piano; John DeMain conducting the Madison Symphony Orchestra

April 1, 2005

Want to know what the critics thought?

There's church music... and then there's Mozart's unfinished Great Mass in C minor (K.427). While I was bored by Morten Lauridsen's tedious Lux Aeterna, which we heard last week, this mass created serious "bring out your dead" vibes. I like to say that I most enjoy Mozart when he was serious, so any substantial chorus singing Mozart in a minor key is worth hearing live. The 140-person Madison Symphony Chorus's performance of the opening Kyrie (which is featured prominently in Amadeus, if you have seen the film) and the double chorus Qui tollis peccata mundi were especially impressive, full of haunting, deep, somber tones, and ringing harmonies that echoed all the way to my seat in the high nosebleeds.

The more coloratura solos were a little much for my taste, but the Domine Deus, a duet between soprano Jane Archibald and mezzo-soprano Jossie Pérez, more closely resembled an operatic number rather than a sacred composition. The harmonies were tight, aggressive and intricately interwoven. The same was true for the mass's finale, the solo quartet featuring Archibald, Perez, tenor Chrles Reid and baritone Kyle Ketelsen. Unfortunately, the two latter singers had only brief roles in the overall mass, making me wish for a more substantial sampling of their work, particularly Ketelsen's clear, throbbing bass.

One portion in particular, the soprano solo in Et incarnates, was striking because of its austerity. Between the orchestra and the chorus, there were probably 200 performers on stage, but for moments in Et incarnates, the only musicians hard at work were the oboist, the flautist, and the lead bassoonist, with Archibald's voice soaring above in furious flight. I liked the contrast between the large, powerful sound of the whole ensemble, as in during the opening Kyrie and the closing Osanna fugue, but this flash of delicate reduction served to highlight just how capable Mozart was at all manner of compositional complexity.

The evening's opening number, Mozart's brief, eight-minute Symphony No. 32 in G (K.318), was quick and lively with a strong operatic overture. For me, however, the highlight of the night was Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21 in C (K.467) with guest pianist Matthias Kirschnereit. A sample of the famous second movement Andante from this work can be found here.

The most energetic portion of this concerto, the opening Allegro, is filled with opportunities for a master pianist to demonstrate his skills. The movement features several cadenzas – extended solos – where Kirschnereit's hands positively flew across the keys with startling speed. I kept imagining his fingers getting tied together in knots like in old cartoons. But what was most fun about his performance was the obvious relish with which he approached this music. When not playing, Kirschnereit settled back on his bench to take in the spectacle of DeMain's conducting and the orchestra's masterful creation. He was head dancing! I love seeing people so completely in their element and so obviously enjoying the thrill of their accomplishment.

As for my accomplishment, I must say that I did rather well following these selections, none of which I had ever heard in its entirety. The concert booklet featured program notes about each work, and I was able to interpret the course of each piece as it occurred. I did not even need to use the complementary glossary! Thanks, Dr. Greenburg, and happy 250th birthday, Mozart.

The Barber of Seville (1963)

2006-04-01T10:57:00.000-08:00

By Gioachino Rossini (1816)

Libretto: Cesare Sterbini, based on the play "Le Barbier de Séville" by Pierre Beaumarchais

Performers: Victoria de los Ángeles (Rosina), Luigi Alva (Il Conte d'Almaviva), and Sesto Bruscantini (Figaro); Vittorio Gui conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and the Glyndebourne Festival Chorus, London, 1963

Want to know the plot? Click here.

This is the sort of dreck that could turn a body off from opera completely. Forget about northern Wagnerian women named Olga singing while wearing yellow braids and horned helmets, this is serious, gaudy, tacky Italian opera. Rossini cluttered every syllable with annoying melisma, and the dry, spiritless recitative was accompanied by only the occasional harpsichord. Whereas Beethoven can be forgiven such sparse accompaniment because the orchestration he created for his arias was so profound, Rossini possessed no such gift and deserves no such forgiveness. Everything was about the voice, which must be great if your preference runs toward that style. I, however, was grinding my teeth.

The obvious opera to which I must compare The Barber of Seville is Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro. Seville was created as the first part of Beaumarchais's Figaro trilogy, with Marriage following as part two. Mozart's opera was written in 1786; Rossini's followed thirty years later. Mozart's opera was wonderful. This was not. Whereas Mozart enlivened Lorenzo da Ponte's very funny libretto with even funnier comic musical timing, thereby succeeding in turning the ridiculous into something wholly amusing, Rossini lost all momentum and humor with a plodding action sequences and dull, pathetic characters.

I struggled to finish this one just so I could write a seriously negative review. My ambition for listening in the first place began with my intention to take the girls to the Overture Center's Children's Arts Fest next Saturday. Selections from this opera will be performed live, but I am not looking forward to the event as much as I did. I will be able to appreciate the technical skill of any singer that manages to give voice to these difficult passages, but I certainly would not sit through an entire performance.

Sweet Land (2005)

2006-04-01T09:42:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth Reaser (Inge), Tim Guinee (Olaf), Alan Cumming (Frandsen), Ned Beatty (Harmo)

Directed by Ali Selim

From the official site: "When Lars Torvik's grandmother, Inge, dies in 2004, he is faced with a decision: sell the family farm or cling to the legacy of the land. Seeking advice, he turns to the memory of Inge and the stories that she had passed on to him. A young Inge Altenberg arrived on the farm that became her lifelong home in 1920. She was a mail order bride, a refugee from the World War I and, to the dismay of her new community, a German. Olaf Torvik was the young Norwegian Farmer who had sent for her. First they must learn to understand each other and then find acceptance in a time of prejudice, suspicion and economic peril."

I am a sucker for happy endings, as many people know, and this Capra-like fable of lasting love was tailor-made for glad saps like me. Granted, the story opens with the passing of both main characters –- one in the 1960s and the other in 2004 –- but you can imagine that the lives they led together, from 1920 until their deaths, were full and exuberant. The film begins with a quote by author Will Weaver, from the short story "A Gravestone Made of Wheat" on which director, Ali Selim, based his screenplay: "We must hope that each of us is preceded in this world by a love story." And, indeed, Sweet Land is just such a love story.

Perhaps intentionally, the Wisconsin Film Festival organizers showed this movie directly after Kinamand. Sweet Land, however, received more substantial, advanced word-of-mouth. The showing completely sold out. Both films portray unconventional, arranged marriages and issues of prejudice that threaten the success of those fledgling relationships, each employing similar techniques. The two male leads, Keld from Kinamand and Olaf from Sweet Land, are taciturn and solitary creatures who open to love, opportunity, and the world at large because of their unconventional and relentlessly infatuating new partners.

Both female leads, Ling from Kinamand and Inge from Sweet Land, overcome the difficulties and anxieties of their predicaments through the gentle enforcement of their will and the steady application of their upbringing. In addition, they both cook well enough to tempt saints, let alone desperately stubborn, lonely bachelors, and have a sort of honest, unpretentious sex appeal that renders their partners helpless.

Poor Olaf. I cannot recall a more harrowing example of sexual frustration, but with a gentleness fostered by the film's humorous, playful flavor. Olaf's self-control was absolutely adorable and irresistible. When the minister quizzes him about their unmarried household arrangement, he explodes. "I sleep in the barn!" That one harsh, exasperated sentence explains the tormented restraint he imposes on himself every night. The minister could never understand the toll it was taking on him. Tim Guinee intensely reminded me of a younger Harrison Ford, particularly Ford's more vulnerable and innocent roles like Regarding Henry or the light-hearted moments in Witness.

If Guinee was Harrison Ford, then Elizabeth Reaser is a doppelganger for Penelope Cruz. That distinctive, almost saucy underbite distracted in its resemblance! Although born and raised in Michigan, Reaser spoke almost no English in this film, and she had to deliver a number of frustrated tirades entirely in German. Although I am curious how German audiences would receive her performance, I was dead impressed. And, as I described in Kinamand, none of the German was translated. We are in the same boat as Olaf and the villagers, trying to understand Inge's intentions and personality through clues of body language, intonation, and expression.

The movie is one of imagination and memory, literally. In almost every scene, Inge's hair and make-up are flawless, and she wore one particularly traveling outfit over and over. At first, I thought this was unrealistic movie magic, but then I thought of the way the story was told. Inge, as an old woman, relates the tale of her courtship to her grandson, Lars, after giving him an old photograph of herself. That photo was taken the day she arrived to become Olaf's wife, and in it, she is beautifully made up and dressed in her best to meet her new husband. Lars, having only this one image of his youthful grandmother, creates the flashback from that starting point. Young people often find it difficult to envision elderly relatives as anything other than old, so Lars did the best he could, placing that particular Inge –- well-dressed, pretty, and neatly made up –- in all of his flashback imaginings. This trick of storytelling lent the entire film an extra dose of fairy tale magic.

Alan Cumming, as Olaf's vaguely pathetic and very fatherly best friend, was comedic, but he did not spoil the picture with an overdose slapstick or hijinks. However, I did find his pairing with Alex Kingston a little improbable. She seemed too solid and practical to be married to the town clown. Ned Beatty and John Heard, as the archetypal nasty banker and god-fearing minister, respectively, added to the Capra parable feel, but the real centerpiece was the chemistry between Reaser and Guinee and the magic they created for their characters. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, the anticipation was breath-taking (read: all warm and tingly). I just wanted those two to find the right time and place...which they do. Behind closed doors.

After the viewing, Ali Selim was on hand to answer audience questions, providing everyone a rare glimpse into the inner workings (and WORK) of an unknown director. I stumped the poor fellow by asking him what he thought of his own film –- what compromises he made, which scenes turned out better than he planned, and how the whole thing lived up to what he imagined when he started this project back in 1991. I hope he is able to build on the success Sweet Land has achieved here at the Wisconsin Film Festival in order to find a distributor for this, his debut film. More people deserve to enjoy this unconventionally sweet treat.

Kinamand (2004)

2006-04-01T08:56:00.000-08:00

Bjarne Henriksen (Keld), Vivian Wu (Ling), Wu Lin Ku (Feng), Charlotte Fich (Rie)

Directed by Henrik Ruben Genz

Summary: Keld, an over- weight, uninspired Danish plumber, is alone. When his bored, frustrated wife leaves him, he begins to eat dinner at the family-run Chinese take-out across the street. Working methodically through the numbered menu, he finds an unexpected friend in Feng, a genial man with his own concerns. Keld helps fix the plumbing in the diner, and then Feng asks for assistance with another problem: his Chinese sister requires a marriage of convenience to stay in Denmark. Enter Ling (Vivan Wu), a young woman who is not at all comfortable with this "strictly pro-forma" arrangement. Over time, Ling's gentle influence brings Keld into a world of tradition, full of surprising rewards and life-changing affection. This romantic tale has the fairy tale feel of what just might happen when people fall in love.

I saw this movie last night as part of the Wisconsin Film Festival, and it proved to be quite a draw. Approximately 80% of Hilldale's large theater was full – quite impressive considering the showtime was 5pm on a Friday afternoon. But the film is so unknown that I could not find a poster image to upload here, only a publicity still from the festival's website. I also had to submit updates for the summary (above), cast information, and release dates for IMDB. Cool! I love that I have been able to contribute to the vast storehouse of information that is the Internet Movie Database.

Kinamand was wonderful. (It must be, because I have written this review three times now, and I am determined to have it praised despite blogger's attempts to make me relent.) Bjarne Henriksen performance as Keld was understated and despondent without melodrama. He seemed a man whose life had gone temporarily astray, leaving him devoid of purpose and energy, but whose vitality could be restored with the right set of circumstances (or an inspiring personal connection). Vivian Wu, probably the best-known actor to American audiences for her performances in The Pillow Book and The Joy Luck Club, had a relatively small role. Because Ling spoke no Danish, Wu's portrayal relied on body language and expressions that ranged from anxious but determined to hesitant and hopeful.

Keld and Ling could not have been more different, physically, culturally, or temperamentally. Walking together, they appeared a lumbering giant and a petite fawn – so poorly matched. But upon the maturation of their relationship, they created a wordless physical choreography that accentuated their mutual and growing affection. The music - a pastiche of Chinese instrumentals, saucy tangos, and pop songs from both languages - aided in the creation of this dance. The man who refused to take a dance class with his ex-wife, on the pretense that his bad shoulder troubled him too greatly, tried his best to learn Ling's tai-chi. He worked to regain his foothold in life and offer her security, while her gentle presence gave him reason to try.

Of course, there was the obligatory "learning chopsticks" scene and the raucous foreign wedding reception, but these fish out of water conventions were made new through two techniques. First, only the Danish dialogue and Keld's poor attempts at Mandarin were translated. Because the film was almost entirely from Keld's perspective, all of the language from the Chinese characters remained a mystery. Ling's single, furious outburst served to leave every non-Chinese viewer with an understanding that her frustration has reached its maximum, but without the particulars of language. All Keld knows is that he should apologize… which he does… badly, in Chinese.

Second, Genz used color - be it in clothing, surroundings, or furnishings - to lend the two leads an extra level of characterization. Ling is all brightness, patterns, and detail, whereas Keld exists in a meager, monotonous world of blue-washed overexposure. As their lives come together, these differences in color are muted and melded until the distinction is neither easy nor important.

Despite the rather contrived ending, which must have been the only conclusion the Danish (read: dreary) director could think to give their unconventional relationship, I thoroughly enjoyed this film. I appreciated the look into how two cultures – both unfamiliar to me – reacted to one another. The transparent prejudice against the Chinese seemed a little heavy-handed, but I cannot say this was an unrealistic portrayal of the Danish attitude toward Chinese immigrants. For all I know, that kind of outright bigotry exists, and this movie served a rather vivid cultural statement on the part of the filmmakers. Upon its conclusion, the term "Kinamand" ("Chinaman") seems more a term of affection than derision.

And then there was the laughter. Almost every scene was peppered with wry, innocent humor that often transcended language. Thank goodness! I was beginning to despair for the Danish as a people…

Million Dollar Baby (2004)

2006-03-27T15:43:00.000-08:00

Clint Eastwood (Frankie Dunn), Hilary Swank (Maggie Fitzgerald), Morgan Freeman (Eddie "Scrap-Iron" Dupris)

Directed by Clint Eastwood (The Bridges of Madison County)

From IMDB: "A hardened trainer / manager works with a determined woman in her attempt to establish herself as a boxer."

I found it difficult to open myself to a movie against which I have been so long prejudiced, but my mother recommended that I see this one.

Million Dollar Baby was released in 2004 against A Very Long Engagement, Hotel Rwanda, Vera Drake, Downfall, Maria Full of Grace, Closer, Kinsey, The House of Flying Daggers, Before Sunset, and Finding Neverland, all of which I have reviewed previously on this blog, and won the Academy Award for Best Picture against Neverland, Ray, The Aviator, and Sideways. This competition for my cinematic respect and admiration would have been fierce enough, particularly against personal favorites Before Sunset and Flying Daggers, but my mind was already set that the true best picture winner of 2004 was the jilted masterpiece Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Nothing, for all of Million Dollar Baby's successes, changed my opinion on that score.

Hilary Swank was particularly convincing as the hardened white-trash boxer Maggie Fitzgerald, and Morgan Freeman proved that - once again - he can steal scenes from the very best. Both deserved high praise for their roles and, in light of less shimmering individual competition, even the awards they earned for acting. Clint Eastwood... I think I consider him a better actor now than in previous years because his skill at directing himself has improved. He speaks less, he is not afraid of appearing crusty on screen, and he knows that his face still has a magnetism that conveys emotion more effectively than any line he could deliver. The film existed as a series of cinematic cliches: the underdog, the tough guy with a heart (and an estranged family member), and the tragic conclusion. Eastwood does an admirable job of assembling these hackneyed ideas into a movie that differentiates itself as something new and interesting, primarily due to these three performances.

However, once you turn your attention away from the lead trio - their characters, their performances, their effective- ness at relating the story - the movie is less convincing. The "Danger" character was just too comic to be sincere, and Maggie's family smacked of every over-wrought hillbilly stereotype ever filmed, without nuance or power as true individuals. If you assume that Maggie is an archetype meant to represent other down-and-outs of her background and ambition, then having such a cliched family might fit. But unfortunately for the overall balance of this film, Swank's portrayal was just too good. She became a fully-fleshed person unto herself, free of most archetypical symbolism, and the portrayal of her roots and family was too trite to do justice to her role.

I liked Million Dollar Baby. The boxing scenes were effective without becoming a distracting centerpiece, a la Raging Bull, and the greasy sub-culture of wanna be boxers was made real. This was Eastwood's most convincing performance, and Swank's Fitzgerald was a truly likeable blend of "aw shucks" and smarts. Their loyal, surrogate father-daughter relationship came alive as one of the most vivid embodiments of platonic love I can remember. I only wish the rest of the film lived up to their example. Ultimately, this was no Eternal Sunshine. Poor thing.

The Age of Reason (1945)

2006-03-27T15:38:00.000-08:00

By Jean-Paul Sartre

Wikipedia only has a brief entry here, but it describes the plot.

Introduction

Because Wikipedia contains no substantial examination of this novel, and because I did not want to present the "dude, this was hard" impression I gleaned from this synopsis, I had to give my review a little time and thought. Had The Age of Reason been the fictional creation of some random author, I would have dealt solely with the success or failures of narratives, characterization, and themes. However, because the author was one of the most influential philosophers and social critics of the 20th century, I felt compelled to critique this work with a more philosophic bent.

Sartre expounded his existential philosophy in both fiction and works of theory, thus analyzing this novel in order to better understand Sartre's existentialism is a valid pursuit. As the phenomenologists believed, "ideas are the product of experiences of real-life situations, and...novels and plays describing such fundamental experiences have as much value as do discursive essays for the elaboration of philosophical theories" (unless noted, all quotes without page numbers are from the Wikipedia article on Sartre, linked above).

Briefly, the characters:

Mathieu, a 34-year-old philosophy professor who, for the three days, searches for the 5,000 francs it will cost to secure an abortion for his mistress of seven years;
Daniel, a devastatingly handsome and self-loathing homosexual who serves as Mathieu's foil, friend, and chief rival both with regard to Marcelle and to their competing ideas about the nature of freedom, choice and existence;
Marcelle, Mathieu's sickly lover and a character almost entirely defined by Mathieu and Daniel's descriptions;
Boris, a youth-obsessed 24-year-old son of Russian immigrants and student of Mathieu’s who prides himself on the fact that he has no original ideas - yet - for fear of looking like a foolish, overreaching young man;
Ivich, Boris's slightly older sister, a student desperate to pass her exams if only to avoid returning to the small town where her parents live, and the object of Mathieu's unrequited fascination; and
Lola, a fundamentally insecure 40-something, cocaine- addicted lounge singer who knows that her doomed affair with Boris, so many years her junior, is likely to be her last hurrah

On a personal note, I was repelled by roughly 90% of each characters’ beliefs, opinions, and actions, while the remaining 10% provided some sense of chuckling reminiscence, along the lines of Yevgeny Bazarov in Turgenev's exploration of nihilism, Fathers and Sons. I have known people like this, but they were – for the most part – 20-year-old philosophy students. I find grown people who act and think with such self-pitying, transfixed incapability both sad and humorous.

While reading, I was very conscious of Sartre's attempt to make a point or come to a conclusion, leaving me to wonder, throughout, as to his sympathies as an author. Did he intend his characters to be regarded with pity, admiration, scorn, or some other combination of reactions? I kept asking myself, "Whose side is he on? What point of view or course of action does he advocate?" Without any clear answer to those questions upon its conclusion, I found the need to look briefly into Sartre's biography and philosophies, as developed in other sources, as well as criticisms of his works.

Sartre as Mathieu

Sartre began a life-long romantic relationship with Simone de Beauvoir in the early 1930s, throughout which they were inseparable – although non-monogamous – companions and intellectual mates. I was immediately reminded of Mathieu's relationship with Marcelle, where respect and the rejection of their bourgeois upbringing trumped every other feeling and impulse. Their lack of monogamy (if not in deed, then in pursuit) also paralleled reality.

Other parallels abound. Sartre, after spending nine months in a Nazi prison camp in 1941, was released and given civilian status. He returned to Paris and took a university teaching position, replacing a Jewish professor who was forbidden to teach under Vichy law. He organized a failed gathering of resistance-minded intellectuals before deciding to write – as opposed to deepening his active involvement. The French philosopher and resistant Vladimir Jankelevitch "criticized Sartre's lack of political commitment during the German Occupation, and interpreted his further struggles for liberty as an attempt to redeem himself." Following the war, Sartre supported Communist ideals but never officially joined the Community party.

Mathieu, too, shirks action in favor of philosophies and the securities of old habits. He is, point-blank, asked by his friend Brunet to join the Communist Party, but Mathieu refuses. He did not want to sacrifice his freedom to an organized institution. He wishes he could join the husband of another friend as an anti-Fascist fighter in Spain, but he does not. In fact, he does not even truly wish to fight. Mathieu thinks, "I refused because I want to remain free: that’s what I say. And I can also say I was a coward. I enjoy saying no, always no, and I should be afraid of any attempt to construct a finally habitable world, because I should merely have to say yes and act like other people" (138). His quest to remain "free" is as much dogma as any political ideal, religion, or cultural tradition, but without the consistency of principle or morality that might guide him when he faces the crisis of Marcelle's pregnancy and his own advancing age.

Sartre also displayed Mathieu's affection for younger women. Mathieu repeatedly notes how young Ivich is, how unformed, selfish, and naïve she is, but he still desires her with the longing of an older man clinging to a youthful creature. Sartre must have felt similar urges throughout his life because he eventually carried on a rather public affair in the 1960s with a young woman who became his adopted daughter in 1968. Hmmm. Freud would have thought that very interesting.

Daniel and Self-Loathing

Daniel is a twisted character, but he is probably the character most aware of his own failings. He finds his homosexuality deplorable, but he is unable to inflict any sort of punishment for his desires. He tries to drown his cats – the things he loves most in the world – but is unable to commit the act. He holds a razor with the intention of castrating himself, but he cannot. He follows pedophiliac men around the haunts where young boys work as prostitutes, despising them and, in turn, his own desires.

After experiencing his failings time and again, like his unwillingness to kill the cats and his inability to carry out self-mutilation (which in itself was a compromise from suicide), Daniel hates himself all the more. Following a sexual encounter with a young man, Daniel looks at his lover and "his hands begin to tremble: he longed to squeeze that thin neck with its protuberant Adam's apple and feel it crack beneath his fingers" (297). Sartre is careful to use tricks of language that serve to distance Daniel from those things he despises – and therefore from himself. For example, he uses the word "they" to refer to homosexuals, not the word "we." Daniel thinks about his lover's inability to defend himself in a fight: "Afterwards they always talked about smashing someone's face in" (299).

Daniel's eventual decision to marry Marcelle, when Mathieu makes a muck of his relationship with her, further confuses his own identity and sexuality. While he admits to Mathieu the truth of his homosexuality, he feels a deep hatred toward his friend because there exists yet another person in the world who knows his deepest secret.

So where does Daniel fit into existentialism? Existentialists reject(ed) the notion that reality is defined by a rational consciousness that can doubt all realities, instead positing that humans achieve consciousness in a world already imbued with context and history. Humans cannot reject that world into which their conscious minds emerge. Therefore Daniel's consciousness, which so desperately wished to commit acts of self-mutilation and exhibit restraint in the face of unwanted sexual desires, could not deny either the biological impulses or societal mores that influenced him.

Think again. "Sartre's dictum 'existence precedes and rules essence' is generally taken to mean that there is no pre-defined essence to humanity, except that which people make for themselves," and therefore, "human beings are free to act as they choose." To reconcile this notion with Daniel's homosexuality, one must assume that although he was driven by a hard-wired biological impulse toward same-sex desire, he actively wanted to behave otherwise. Sartre presents Daniel as an example of a consciousness that stands ready to defy even its most basic essence in favor of active choice. That Daniel continually fails to follow through with the ideals of his higher consciousness is simply a matter of choice and is not the absolute influence of some unmitigated essence.

Bad Faith

Sartre coined the phrase "bad faith" (mauvaise foi) to mean "the conflict between oppressive, spiritually-destructive conformity" and an "authentic state of being." In other words, characters and people who exhibit "bad faith" are lying to themselves. In that case, everyone in The Age of Reason should be drowned in their own bad faith, except maybe Daniel who suitably recovers from any self-deception before he is caught off-guard by his behavior. He knows when he is trying to deceive himself and does not allow the farce to continue. The others live in a perpetual state of disguise and willing deception.

For example, Ivich and Boris are a pair of contemptible young people with no sense of true authenticity. They are studied creations who keep secrets from everyone, most especially themselves. While secretly watching them talk to each other, Mathieu observes: "soon they would catch sight of him, they would turn towards him those impassive faces which they kept for their parents and important persons" and that "even with her brother Ivich did not quite let herself go, she played the part of the elder sister, she never forgot herself" (184-185).

Their conformity and bad faith abounds: Ivich guzzles champagne to get drunk (even though she does not like to drink), she slashes her hand with a knife to prove she is a non-conformist (thus reinforcing her persona-of-choice, that of a wild, unpredictable woman), and Boris does not consider the possibility that his lack of original ideas may be less from youth and more from laziness or fear. And I didn't really touch on the bizarre relationship he sustains with Lola, the singer! Even Daniel, for all his attempts to live without self-deception, consistently chooses the least resistant path. He would have been braver, for example, living as an openly gay man than he was in agreeing to marry Marcelle.

Finally Mathieu, tired of his abundance of bad faith, must acknowledge the vacuity of his existence. In the novel's concluding paragraph, he observes (in the third person, another distancing technique), "this life had been given him for nothing, and he was nothing and yet he would not change: he was as he was made" (342). To read Sartre as consistent, in that we are not pre-determined beings of essence but active consciousnesses with the potential for choice, then Mathieu must be lying to himself still. To say that he was made that way is merely an excuse for inaction. However, if Mathieu is consistent, then perhaps Sartre is the one exhibiting the bad faith.

Conclusion

Perhaps he tired of his inability to commit to a cause, because Sartre eventually became instrumental in protests against the French occupation of North Africa. Perhaps he tired of living and speaking vicariously through fictional creations, because Sartre eventually declared that literature functioned as a bourgeois substitute for any serious commitment to the world. Perhaps The Age of Reason was merely a testing ground for the theories of a relatively young man still grappling with his (lack of) place and purpose in the world.

No matter. The Age of Reason was a decidedly open-ended and hazy creation of questionable lasting impact on my world view. The characters were fully-fleshed to a successfully repulsive degree, and the conclusion presented a picture of lives capable of continuing to the last breath without any real shift toward self-awareness. Do I have any doubt that Mathieu would wake up the next morning and continue this new line of schtick? Nope.

Wikipedia described Sartre as "ambiguous." I concur. Go now and interpret as you will. The choice is yours, apparently.

Source text:
Sartre, Jean-Paul. The Age of Reason. Translated from the French by Eric Sutton. Bantam Books: New York. 1959.

Vocab:

brachycepahlic, vitreous, seraphic, somnolent, odalisque, integument, eyrie, sententious, bitumen, pullulating, benignantly, concupiscence, Cagliostro, Lohengrin, cachous, carious, Epicureanism

Looking for Richard (1996)

2006-03-24T10:33:00.000-08:00

Al Pacino (Richard III), Winona Ryder (Anne), Kevin Spacey (Buck- ingham), Alec Baldwin (Clarence)

Directed by Al Pacino

From Hollywood Video: "One-of-a- kind documentary chronicling an actors' search for meaning behind Shakespeare's Richard III."

As part of my Shakespeare project, I checked out this from the library well in advance of when I should receive Richard III on CD - sometime in May! This served as a gentle introduction...

Through a series of interviews, rehearsals, and discussions, Al Pacino revealed his personal search for the meaning and significance of Shakespeare, particularly the play The Life and Death of King Richard III, originally written in 1593. I found the concept interesting, in that it was not merely a rendition of the text, but its successes were limited.

Conceptually, this should have been a more engaging documentary. I like the idea of peeking behind the curtain to hear actors' opinions about the lines they say and the characters they inhabit. I was also curious about engaging with the history of this play in particular, in which Shakespeare vilified one particular English king in order to better praise Elizabeth I and her Tudor family line. Was Richard really a deformed madman? Does the truth matter when it makes for good drama? Why has his image persisted? These would have been interesting topics, but the historical nature of the play was left out almost entirely. Pacino and company took it as red that Richard was a deformed man, although the historical record is uncertain, and little of Shakespeare's intended audience - the court and subjects of Elizabeth I - was discussed.

Although Pacino consulted with a few very articulate academics about the historic characters and the importance of the play, actors were given precedent to offer their opinions and interpretations. During one discussion in particular, Pacino's co-producer said that Shakespeare cannot belong to academics because, ultimately, actors must bring the characters to life. True, but when Pacino needed iambic pentameter explained to him by five different people, and when the actors could not figure out if Edward IV's queen had one or two grown sons, the value of the academics became more obvious. I must say that Pacino himself came across as a little thick.

Numerous well-known actors and their less-famous theatrical counterparts discussed the tricks and rewards inherent in performing Shakespearian roles, but particularly the difficulty American actors seem to have in being taken seriously in such performances. However, their discussion stood at odds with contemporary films that some of these same actors were involved with at the time: Richard III (1995) featured Annette Benning and Robert Downey Jr. in fantastic roles (granted, as relatively low-born nobles - an intentional casting decision), Shakespeare in Love (1997) starred I-think-I'm-English Gwyneth Paltrow, Much Ado About Nothing (1993) saw Denzel Washington and Robert Sean Leonard stand toe-to-toe with Kenneth Branagh (but don't mention Keanu), as did Lawrence Fishburne in Othello (1995), and Romeo + Juliet (1996) further reinterpreted the wig-and-codpiece stage production and altogether ditched the idea of Shakespeare as an English-only domain.

The English may still hold sway on stage and in character roles, but as 1990s Hollywood realized the timelessness of Shakespearian drama and the need to retell these tales in new ways, the Royal Shakespeare Company-style performances have been forsaken on film - for better or for worse - in favor of modernizations and more well-known, American leads. For this reason, Looking for Richard came across as particularly dated, discussing the issue of "who gets to play Shakespeare" when that topic is no longer so relevant.

I digress. Aside from a few minor points brought up by the scholars, I found nothing substantial to take away from this documentary. Brief excerpts from interviews with Branagh, Kevin Kline, James Earl Jones, and Rosemary Harris should have been longer, because theirs contained an intriguing line of discussion - how does one become excited by Shakespeare? But the bulk of the film featured enactments of various scenes that seemed like some bizarre cross between "Homicide: Life on the Street" (read: extreme handheld cameras) and a high school production, with the more difficult lines edited and parsed in favor of Hollywood-lite, audience-friendly dialogue. And for all of the discussions about American actors doing Shakespeare, Baldwin and Ryder... blew. They simply were not up to the task. Even Pacino was too busy hamming and enjoying the sound of his own voice to truly sink himself into the role of Richard. Only Spacey (not suprisingly) and the two queens (Margaret, played by Estelle Parsons, and Elizabeth, played by Penelope Allen) escaped those tacky scenes with a sense of gravitas and vulnerability.

Overall, although this would not have been the case two months ago, the well-intentioned "Shakespeare for Every- one" approach left me bored and wishing for more depth.

Henry VI, Part Three (2003)

2006-03-23T11:41:00.000-08:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's The Third Part of King Henry VI (1590)

Vol. III of The Complete Arkangel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; David Ten- nant (Henry), Kelly Hunter (Margaret), David Troughton (Richard Plantagenet), John Bowe (Warwick)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

In these reviews, I have primarily discussed Shakespeare and his accomplishments, which makes sense seeing as how they are his works. However, with this play, I especially noticed the production value of the audio recording. In Act II, Scene V, King Henry VI observes the bloody clash between soldiers loyal to him and those siding with the House of York. Distanced from the field of battle, both physically and ideologically - because, as a devout man, he craves no bloodshed from his reign - Henry watches two archetypical encounters play before his eyes.

As Henry waxes mental, so completely out of touch with his regal responsibilities, a man stoops to search for gold and armaments on the body of a man he has just killed. That man, it turns out, is his father. "And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, / Have by my hands of life bereaved him," cries the son. Some distance away, another man checks his victim for valuables – and his victim turns out to be his only son. "I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, / For I have murder'd where I should not kill," cries the father. Henry sees their grief and desires no further part in the slaughter his reign has engendered. As symbols of other men’s’ losses and lamentations, these characters are particularly moving. Rarely are archetypes of this generalized sort so effective in portraying a larger picture of suffering.

However, the success was not entirely to Shakespeare’s credit. I must mention the Audio Partners production that helped give this scene its emotional power and impact. During scene after scene, as the York and Lancaster houses fight - literally - on various fields of battle, sounds of conflict and clashing arms dominate the sound effects behind the actors. Then, just before the start of Henry's soliloquy, the battle sounds recede and are replaced by a steady, low, dark chord. This single chord is so constant that it becomes like white noise, adding both tension and an unearthly quality to what is, essentially, an unrealistic scene. As if in a dream, Henry can pause time and make his grim observations. As soon as the scene ends, the battle noises resume and sound particularly harsh after the dream-like moments inside Henry's head. In setting this scene apart through such a simple audio trick, the director emphasized its importance and heightened its impact.

As for the rest of the experience, Kelly Hunter's role as Queen Margaret was particularly powerful in this play, as her role matured to de facto monarch and protector. Her sparring scenes with Troughton's Richard Plantagenet were searing and vicious as each character reveled in the other's loss of a loved one. The rendition of King Edward was annoying and sickening, but that was most likely the intent, and Richard's internal monologues about his ambitions for the crown made for blunt but effective foreshadowing for his own play.

The pro-Elizabeth propaganda continued here in full force, with Shakespeare pulling out all the stops to praise Elizabeth's grandfather, a young teenager named Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, who would become King Henry VII after Richard III's downfall. Overall, and excepting the distortions of history that are apparent in any successful historical drama, this was the most fully realized and effective of the three Henry VI plays, revealing a steady, finely-honed sense of drama, emotion, irony, and little hints of the humor that would become the hallmark of Shakespeare’s romantic comedies. No wonder this trilogy cemented him as a notable playwrite of his day and allowed for his development into one of the most influential writers in the English language.

I should, chronologically speaking, continue to The Life and Death of King Richard III, but the CDs have two holds before me at the library. Bummer. I was ready to move on and see Richard fulfill his despotic, hump-backed destiny (so much melodrama!). Alas, I will skip Richard and come back to him when it becomes available. Now on to The Comedy of Errors, which will probably seem to fly by after all this heavy history.

Quotes

Lord Clifford to Richard, Duke of York: "And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade / Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, / Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both."

Richard Plantagenet to Queen Margaret: "'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; / But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small."

King Henry VI: "Obeying with my wind when I do blow, / And yielding to another when it blows, / Commanded always by the greater gust; / Such is the lightness of you common men." (At least he's honest about his opinion of commoners!)

King Edward IV & Elizabeth Woodville: "To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee." "To tell thee plain, I had rather lie in prison."

George, Duke of Clarence, about his brother, King Edward IV: "He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom."

Richard Plantagenet: "Fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns."

Warwick: "I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, / And with the other fling it at thy face."

Vocab & References

(To toot my own horn, you must notice how few vocab bits are listed below. Either Shakespeare was really slacking off here, or I'm getting better at understanding his references and remembering vocabulary from previous plays.)

falchion, Hyrcanian, neat, younker, darraign, quondam, stale (referring to urination), bruit, Jephtha, Roscius, malapert

The Road Home (1999)

2006-03-22T11:25:00.000-08:00

Zhang Ziyi (Young Zhao Di), Sun Honglei (Luo Yusheng), Zheng Hao (Luo Changyu), Zhao Yulian (Old Zhao Di)

Directed by Zhang Yimou (Raise the Red Lantern, Shanghai Triad, and The House of Flying Daggers, The Story of Qiu Ju)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

From IMDB: "Prompted by the death of his father and the grief of his mother, a man recalls the story of how his parents met."

Although ostensibly about the romance between two fictional characters, the majority of which is told in a flashback that returns to late 1950s rural China, this film also serves as an ode of three other sorts. But let me talk, first, about the love story. While beautifully shot, this disarmingly simple tale of an unconventional courtship - in an age still dominated by arranged marriages - and lasting love did not move me to any great sense of emotion. Perhaps my romantic sensibilities were stunted by all of the manual labor that went into Zhao Di's attempt to catch the eye of her village's first full-time teacher. Love, as defined in this time and place, means working very hard.

Zhao Di makes food for the workers constructing the new school house in the hopes that the teacher will eat from her bowl and admire her cooking. She carries water from a distant well in order to pass by the school house more frequently. She weaves through all hours of the night to create the good-luck banner that will adorn the new building. She waits and waits by the side of the road in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the teacher as he walks home. She waits again when he is ordered into the city for questioning during this, the time of the Cultural Revolution. She repairs the school house, cleaning it throughout his long absence and decorating it with beautiful paper cuttings - even though she is illiterate and never learns to read or write. And finally, as an elderly widow, she simply wants to accompany her late husband's body when former students carry his coffin on foot from the hospital in the city back to the village where they lived together. Everything she does - as a girl wishing to be noticed, as a young woman in love, and as a wife throughout a 40-year marriage - is based on respect, toil, and love.

The whole thing made me feel terribly shabby with regard to my own chores! What a wimp I am!

But because of her overwhelming attitude of obligation and, frankly, self-subjugation, I found the actual romance difficult to fathom. I understood on an intellectual level that she was very much enamored with her young man, but my emotions were not engaged by the storytelling. After all, how much could she feel after having never spoken to him, hearing his voice only from a distance as he recited lessons with his students? But maybe in a time of arranged marriage, the thrill of choice was part of the attraction.

Ah, but to the other love stories. First, there was Zhang Yimou's fascination with all things bygone. This film was packed full of tradition and custom, much more so than his other films set in the past. How are porcelain pots repaired? A traveling craftsman constructs custom-made nails that fit like staples over the cracks. This was depicted at length. How is cloth woven? Both Zhang Ziyi and Zhao Yulian (as the elderly Zhao Di) are depicted weaving in an ancient loom that straps behind the back and arches overhead. How was food prepared? How were lessons conducted? What paper crafts were perfected to decorate buildings? Even the unspoken detail was telling, down to the patch Zhao Di wore on the right shoulder of her quilted jackets where she rested the water bucket pole. All of these intricate old skills rendered a picture of a past that no longer exists in mainstream China, and Zhang Yimou's story, here, was as much an ode to numerous lost arts as it was about two individuals falling in love.

While I found the initial half hour of this film a little curious - not realizing the extent to which these other ideas would be explored - I soon realized that the story of their courtship was also the story of their lives as young people, with all of the tasks and values (not moral values, but more akin to aesthetic tastes) that no longer concerned descendents who wore windbreakers and drive Jeeps. To tell their story without this context would have been an injustice to their life's work.

The second love story was that of a child for his parents, perhaps a reflection of Zhang Yimou's own childhood during the Revolution. Although in his 30s and living a busy life in the city, Luo Yusheng takes time away from his obligations to help his mother fulfill her wishes for his father's funeral. He contributes 5,000 Yuan (roughly, by this film's estimation, enough money to pay 50 laborers for a day's work) to help construct a new school. Then, he grants another of his mother's wishes when he teaches for one day in the old school house. She said that his father had wished he would become a teacher too, and that she would be happy to hear echoes of her husband in that old school through her son's voice, just once.

Everything about their relationship was based on obligation, toil, and love, just as had been the case with his parents' courtship. And as a sweet indication of their love, both mother and son repeatedly assured the other one they needn't be troubled, trying to spare each other the burden of worry. Their scenes together were much more emotionally resonant than the tale of romance, and I had to laugh when this old lady advised her son not to be picky when it came to love - this from a woman who had risked everything and put her entire being into her relationship with her husband!

Finally, there was Zhang Yimou's fascination with Zhang Ziyi's face. Like Gong Li before her, Zhang Ziyi has a wide-eyed beauty and frank innocence - youthful but mature, naive but wise, eager, self-assured and very determined without being overt or pushy. She is strong. Zhang Yimou, after breaking up with Gong Li in the mid-1990s during the filming of Shanghai Triad, struggled to find his artistic voice - his muse. In Zhang Ziyi, he seemed to discover an heir to the powerful, vulnerable female characters Gong Li brought to life. He allowed the camera to linger to a distracting degree on Zhang Ziyi's face, and as a result, the majority of the emotional dialogue was spoken there in her features, without words.

And as a little indication as to the immense global popularity Titanic, the elderly Zhao Di's house contained two posters for the film - with no other store-bought decorations. Even out in middle-of-nowhere China, Leo was King of the World.

Red Eye (2005)

2006-03-17T05:12:00.000-08:00

Rachel McAdams (Lisa), Cillian Murphy (Jackson), Brian Cox (Dad)

Directed by Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street)

From IMDB: A woman is kidnapped by a stranger on a routine flight. Threatened by the potential murder of her father, she is pulled into a plot to assist her captor in offing a politician.

Like a romance writer who yearns to write literature but cannot bring herself to give up erotic sex scenes and happy endings or, for a more high-brow comparison, like Shakespeare's dramatic later works where he simply could not part with crowd-pleasing comic characters, Wes Craven cannot escape his horror flick roots. Granted, no one in Red Eye was stabbed (with a knife) and the damsel in distress wielded a field hockey stick, but Craven's famous conventions clouded and trivialized what could have been a more significantly interesting film.

As a disclaimer, I adore Cillian Murphy. From the limited films in which I have seen him (the fantastic 28 Days Later... and Batman Begins), I have decided that he is extra dreamy and wickedly talented. This performance was no exception. He was a slick, effective combination of funny, likeable pretty-boy and suave serial killer - until the script forced him into the role of typical villain parody. Without him, Red Eye would have been immeasurably less watchable. Rachel McAdams is pretty enough and has a certain believable resolve, but she fed off of Murphy's wit and charisma throughout their scenes together.

And their scenes together were numerous! Fully the first 45 minutes were devoted to Craven's tight close-ups of their quick dialogue as young, cute, unassuming travelers Lisa and Jackson got to know each other. Too bad it wasn't a romantic comedy; Murphy and McAdams displayed more on-screen chemistry than many failed attempts in that genre. But, of course, all that cute flirtation came to an end when Jackson had to go all international hitman on his sweet companion. I mean, the head-butt ended any chance for a future they might have had!

Alas, I could not properly enjoy the fun opening rounds of pretty people conversing because I knew, eventually, the film would start to suck. And it did. Composer Marco Beltrami, who has worked with Craven on numerous previous projects, did his best to try and scare the audience with sudden jumps of cacophonic music and creepy violins. Ohhh, and is there a guy hiding behind the shower curtain? Ohhh, is there a guy hiding behind the door? And ohhh, it's Colby from "Survivor: Outback"! What's he doing in a proper film?

McAdams, still establishing herself after the sap-fest, five hankie flick The Notebook and the yet-to-see comedy The Wedding Crashers, needs the right film to make her a superstar in the Reese Witherspoon vein of sweetness and talent. Craven, after the out-of-character semi-inspira- tional drama Music of the Heart, needs the right film to extricate himself from his slasher persona (if that is, indeed, what he wants to accomplish). Finally, Murphy needs to go back to Danny Boyle and demand another role at least as good as his turn as a zombie survivor. In the meantime, I have discovered that he co-stared in Girl with a Pearl Earring with the lovely Mr. Firth. I think that one just got bumped to the top of my Must See list. With Scarlett Johansson as the lead, Keven is sure to keep me company...

I digress. One last observation before leaving Red Eye to the realm of almost-entertaining films: Keven and I observed that this would have been a much more surprising movie if we had not known its basic premise. Craven methodically introduced his audience to a number of passengers on the plane, including a sweet old lady with a jones for Dr. Phil and an 11-year-old girl traveling by herself, before allowing the delayed flight to leave the ground. Ignorant of the plot, I would have thought this was a classic air disaster film waiting to unleash it gut-wrenching potential, especially after a rough take-off sequence and some mid-air turbulence. In such a film, the plucky young newly-introduced couple of Murphy and McAdams would have followed in the footsteps of other disaster movie lovers like Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock in Speed. But no. The red herrings led nowhere, and I was left only with ideas about what this film could have been.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

2006-03-15T18:41:00.000-08:00

Jean Arthur (Saunders), James Stewart (Jefferson Smith), Claude Rains (Senator Paine)

Directed by Frank Capra (It's a Wonderful Life)

From IMDB: "A naive man is appointed to fill a vacancy in the US Senate. His plans promptly collide with political corruption, but he doesn't back down"

Jimmy Stewart was passionately Everyman, full of fire, conviction, and down-home manners. Jean Arthur was incandescently funny in several scenes, revealing why she earned lead billing despite Stewart's title role. But for me, this classic could not live up to the weight of its famous, accomplished and more balanced successor. In creating It's a Wonderful Life, Capra borrowed heavily from this film - released a full seven years prior - but his maturity as a story-teller and Stewart's added depth as an actor seriously out-classed their efforts in Mr. Smith.

So where does Mr. Smith fall short? The conclusion, for example, is a muddled flurry of activity that leaves the audience to assume all conflict will thereafter be resolved. We are not shown resolution; it is implied. Following two hours of Capra's repetitive, ham-fisted patriotic imagery and odes to the glories of the Founding Fathers, all of which proved that subtlety was not his intention, I would have appreciated wrapping up this fable with a happy little bow. Claude Rains wielding a gun, several kids run over by crazed mobsters, and Jimmy Stewart passed out on the floor do not a conclusion make.

Another example regards Capra's portrayal of the press. Are they funny, scheming, wretched opportunists, or are they simply more savvy than the average citizen when it comes to the mechanizations of politics? In one scene at a local bar, reporters are portrayed as both. While I might appreciate this sort of nuance in a modern movie, it felt out of place in a story so thoroughly about RIGHT and WRONG.

Ultimately, this could have been a much more successful and humorous film. Luckily, It's a Wonderful Life resolved Mr. Smith's missed opportunities and clunky pacing, making good on the promise of a truly remarkable movie from Capra and Stewart. Too bad about Jean Arthur, though - she was a hoot and deserved a better picture in which to shine.

Jarhead (2005)

2006-03-14T18:54:00.000-08:00

Jake Gyllenhaal (Swofford), Peter Sarsgaard (Troy), Jamie Foxx (Sykes)

Directed by Sam Mendes (American Beauty)

From IMDB: "Based on former Marine Anthony Swofford's best- selling 2003 book about his pre- Desert Storm experiences in Saudi Arabia and about his experiences fighting in Kuwait."

Swofford as Hero

Although based on the memoirs of an actual Gulf War soldier, Jarhead's Anthony Swofford is a character comprised of three conflicting facets. Super Swofford, the hero, is the third that rises above much of the jingoistic clamor. He reads Camus. He believes in his girlfriend's fidelity. He throws up at the sight of crispy dead bodies. He possesses enough self-awareness to narrate his own tale - cynicism, self-mockery and all - without the lock-step mentality of some of his Marine cohorts. He is afraid and makes mistakes, but he stands fast and endures his obligations. He is our window into an unfamiliar world of secrets, rituals, traditions, violence, and a long, long history.

Swofford as Barbarian

However, our seemingly civilized guide is misleading, leaving us lost in an unfamiliar world. What happened to the boy who read? He was replaced by a near-mindless automaton acting only for the diversions of sexual gratification and violence - two primal releases that are offered, on numerous occasions, as synonyms. His motives are based not on thought but on survival. After a while, he has no sense of obligation to those he invited to partake of his story - the audience. Lost in a haze of desperation, fatigue, boredom, loneliness, and fear, he cannot serve as his own rational guide, let alone lead us through his story. He gives himself over, almost totally, to the institution of the Marines. In the arms of the Corps, thinking is not so very important.

Swofford as Everyman

Following his return to the States, Swofford returns to himself as an altered version of the young man he was. This typical soldier's story arc attempts to reconciles the hero and the barbarian - the thinking man and the grunt - just as the soldier attempts to make that same reconciliation within himself. Images, friendships, new comrades, and lingering physical and psychological affects hamper the hero's need to suppress the barbarian in a civilized world, but does he really want to? What man, when faced with the opportunity to enjoy all of the forbidden pleasures of his youthful, barbarian days, would not do so again despite the dangers?

Mendes and THE BIG POINT(S)

As with American Beauty, director Sam Mendes does not demonstrate a concise enough vision to fully realize whichever of the six or seven different BIG POINTS he intended to make. Is Swofford a hero, barbarian, or everyman? Does the distinction matter in a time of war? Is Sykes a thinking man when, in the midst of burning oil fields, the magnificent Jamie Foxx's face reveals so much confusion and dissatisfaction regarding their assignment and his role in the conflict? Or has Sykes been duped by the fervor and patriotism of the Corps, as one could possibly interpret his speech about why he loves being a Marine? What is the value of a purposeful life, such as with Sarsgaard's haunting and nuanced Corporal Troy, even when that purpose is killing? And most importantly, are soldiers defined by their mastubatory practices, their latent homosexual fantasies, or their life-long fidelity to idealized weaponry?

(For more on the sex thang and other issues, go read Pacze Moj's review.)

Granted, memoirs are the self-centered ramblings of any given individual, with all of the intricacies of perspective, reality, digressions, and superfluous characters. When telling one's own story, the BIG POINT can become lost in a "forest for the trees" sort of fashion. But Mendes, as this film's storyteller, should have known better. If Swofford made a point in his memoirs, Mendes failed to translate it to the screen. In trying so hard to present timely intricacies and depth, he lost worthwhile opportunities to bring the audience to his (or Swofford's) conclusion of choice.

Seeing this film during today's political climate and in the midst of Iraq's continued disintegration, and seeing this film in the company of my two ex-Marine parents, served to cloud my experience with additional layers of complexity. Without a sure sense of direction and purpose from Mendes, I concluded the cinematic version of what could have been a very rich narrative with only feelings of muddled indifference.

The Marriage of Figaro (1961)

2006-03-08T05:43:00.000-08:00

By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1786)

Libretto: Lorenzo da Ponte, based on the play "Le Mariage de Figaro" by Pierre Beaumarchais

Performers: Giuseppe Taddei (Figaro), Anna Moffo (Susanna), Eberhard Wächter (the Count), Elisabeth Schwarzkopf (the Countess), and Fiorenza Cossotto (Cherubino); Carlo Mario Giulini conducting the Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus, London, 1961

Want to know the plot? Click here.

What a treat! After suffering bored, annoyed, and downright confused reactions to another Mozart opera, The Magic Flute, I was happily surprised to find The Marriage of Figaro so entertaining and beautiful. And funny! I have never laughed aloud while listening to an opera, but this one had me giggling throughout. Particularly amusing was the exchange between Susanna and Marchellina in Act One. But more than just the libretto which, when read aloud, is not as amusing, Mozart's music - the pacing of each sentence, the speed of the recitative, and the orchestration behind the singers - added considerably to the humor.

The music was absolutely beautiful, with Mozart's penchant for light, airy creations used in full force here. I usually prefer more teeth to my classical music - more minor chords at any rate - but the tone of this playful, silly opera was well suited to flighty, lilting duets and trios. The harmonies were gorgeous and lengthy, especially between Susanna and the Countess, where Moffo and Schwarzkopf were able to fly together as true divas.

Moffo's voice was particularly wonderful, in that she was able to portray strength and guts without sacrificing lovely tone. Whereas Caballé tends to sound more mature and a little throatier, lending gravitas to her heroines, Moffo displayed both beauty and resilience without sacrificing either - making her Susanna intensely likeable.

Two arias in particular resonated with me, however, outside of the opera itself. First was Barbarina's (the gardener's daughter) solo "L'ho perduta, me meschina." This minor key waltz, barely two minutes long, is absolutely heart-rending in its portrayal of loss. Haunting and so sweet in its brevity. Among songs of trivial misunderstanding and light laughter, this stood out as a significantly emotional piece. Just don't read the lyrics... it's about how she lost a pin. The words are ridiculous when compared to the power of the melody.

The second aria of note is sung by the character Cherubino, entitled "Voi, che sapete che cosa è amor." Cherubino is a male character, but his youthfulness requires a female mezzo-soprano for today's performances (perhaps a castrato during Mozart's time). The fantastic Fiorenza Cossotto, whose work I so admired in Aida, sang the part of Cherubino, and this aria was the highlight of that role. But where had I heard it before? Driving me nuts... Can't remember... Ah yes - Jennifer Ehle sang it as Elizabeth Bennet in "Pride and Prejudice" during the memorable after-dinner scene at Pemberley where she and Colin Firth's Darcy make swoon-worthy eyes at one another. The lyrics Ehle sings are in English, but the tune is most certainly Mozart.

Overall, this was a highly memorable, enjoyable opera, which far and away remedies the dislike I felt for The Magic Flute. And it had a happy ending, only the third such ending I've encountered in opera (the other being The Magic Flute and Beethoven's Fidelio, another favorite).

Babette's Feast (1987)

2006-03-06T17:24:00.000-08:00

Stéphane Audran (Babette), Birgitte Federspiel (Old Martina), Bodil Kjer (Old Philippa), Jean-Philippe Lafont (Achille Papin)

Directed by Gabriel Axel

Language: Danish and French

From Hollywood Video: "A French refugee woman is hired by elderly Danes whose lives are narrowly focused by their strong religion. After years in their employ, the housemaid changes village attitudes through a sumptuous feast."

I watched this film on Saturday because I was supposed to attend the MOMS Movie Club this morning. Our club president, Nicole, made the selection. Unfortunately, the snow was quite daunting today and gave me the perfect excuse to stay home and catch up on the EIGHT loads of laundry awaiting my attention. I enjoyed the motivation to watch this movie, even if I didn't attend the discussion, because it is unlikely I would have ever seen it otherwise.

Based on the story by Karen Blixen - aka Isak Dinesen, the famous Danish writer whose memoirs were adapted as the film Out of Africa - Babette's Feast is a picture of cinematic understatement. Perhaps, when it comes to Danish filmmaking, Festen was not as innovative as it appeared to American audiences. Perhaps, the Dogme 95 school was simply reflecting as extreme example of a pre-existing aesthetic amongst Danish artists, one that emphasizes restraint, delicacy, piety, community, and a dark sense of humor.

The entire film builds toward the scene of the feast, during which the humor emerges in full force, but the remainder of the narrative struggles with deeper questions about the nature of faith. The sisters are devout, humble creatures of God, having forsaken all romantic connections in order to better ensure that their souls remain clean and their charitable acts meaningful.

However, their devotion is equally split between God and their own father, a church leader of such importance to their village that he becomes a sort of prophet and spiritual guide unto himself. Did they each refuse suitors in their youth because of a deep sense of Christian obligation or out of paternal devotion? They less feared God's judgment than their father's disappointment and disapproval.

The remaining handful of adherents to their father's isolated sect try to be as generous and faultless, but the sisters’ purity of heart is difficult to emulate and maintain. Petty squabbles about decidedly ungodly issues begin to seep into their discussions. One man cheated another, and one woman slept with a friend's husband... decades before. These irrepressible issues of mortal life - concerns of worldly jealousies and sin - cannot be left behind simply because they will themselves toward spirituality, just as they cannot ignore the heavenly bliss of Babette's cooking, the luxury of her table service, and the intoxicating effects of wine.

So what is God's will: that we should forsake all pleasures of this world in order to enter a better one or that we should enjoy the tastes of our mortal life because they are of God's creation? As the examples of this film illustrate, neither extreme guarantees happiness, contentment, or salvation. The only person truly pleased with her path, despite tremendous loss and humbling experiences, is Babette. She hardly eats a bite of her unbelievable feast, but the act of creation - bringing together those disparate people and nourishing them with her works of art - brought her closer to God in this life than any other character could achieve.

Henry VI, Part Two (2003)

2006-03-02T20:00:00.000-08:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's The Second Part of King Henry VI (1590)

Vol. II of The Complete Ark- angel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; David Tennant (Henry VI), Clive Merrison (York), Kelly Hunter (Queen Margaret), Norman Rodway (Gloucester)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

I found this play highly entertaining for two reasons. First, Shakespeare was here! As opposed to the patchy, irregular pacing of Part One, this play sounded more... Shakespearian. The puns were out in full force, at least among the commoners, and the language was much stronger in the use of artistic phrasing and poetry. Turns of phrase were tendered with more elegance and wit, rather than mere rhyming couplets, and the sound of the lines were more engaging overall.

Second, I was fascinated with the lack of moral direction within the confines of this play. Of what I already know regarding Shakespearian morality, the status quo is almost always preserved. Romeo and Juliet disobeyed their parents and died because of their folly. All of the aristocrats in Twelfth Night marry partners of their same station, while commoners and servants are left to pine alone.

In this supposed history, however, almost everyone has a duplicitous angle. The king's great-uncle, a cardinal, has his nephew, the Duke of Gloucester, murdered. Margaret's advisor and lover, Suffolk, is despised by so many for his schemes that his death is heralded by all but the queen. The Duke of York claimed hereditary authority to the throne. The court is full of self-serving, greedy, disloyal sycophants who have no purpose but their own betterment.

Henry, for his part, is portrayed as a weak-kneed and godly man who has no desire to rule at all. Ascending to authority as an infant, he has been king in name - if not in deed - for most of his life, and he hates that pressure. His decisions, when he does make them, are overruled or ignored. When Gloucester is imprisoned, Henry has no more power to prevent his assassination than a servant would.

The king's protector, Gloucester, is also unable to wrangle the forces lined against his good intentions. His wife, Dame Eleanor, schemes with conjurers and fortune tellers to further her desire that Gloucester should become king in name as well as deed. Her arrest and exposure hasten Gloucester's downfall. This series of events - wherein a woman's ambitions undo her partner's better nature - is a theme that plays out more directly and powerfully with Margaret and Henry. Here, women are deceivers of the most heartless and conniving kind, whose influence in politics is warped by greed (Eleanor) and lust (Margaret).

Luckily for England there's... QUEEN ELIZABETH. Written in the 32nd year of Elizabeth's reign, The Second Part of King Henry VI is a love story to Shakespeare's most important patron, the queen. What happens when a monarch is too intellectual and cannot act? What happens when a sovereign has not the strength of will to control the royal court? And what happens when women in positions of authority are swayed by greed and lust? Rebellion. Loss of territory. Internal strife. Moral ambiguity and chaos.

Elizabeth, the "virgin" queen who allied in marriage with no foreign powers, ruled successfully for over 44 years. She had none of Henry's waffling will or lack of resolve. Shakespeare, by fleshing out historical events in this way, reaffirmed Elizabeth's just, moral claim to rule, as well as the necessity of her leadership. When a country exists under a monarchical government, the wisdom, fairness, and strength of that monarch are essential for the good of the nation. And when a playwright depends on the good favor of a particular royal patron, this message is all the more important to convey.

Quotes

King Henry, about a blind man who regains his sight: "Great is his comfort in this earthly vale / Although by his sight his sin be multiplied."

York: "Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: / Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win."

Warwick, about Gloucester's murder: "Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, / And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, / But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?"

Warwick, about Suffolk: "Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men!"

King Henry, about Cardinal Beaufort's grim death: "Ah, what a sign it is of evil life / Where death's approach is seen so terrible!"

Suffolk, before his death by pirates: "True nobility is exempt from fear!"

Rebel leader John Cade, about the changes he would make as king: "I will make it a felony to drink small beer..."

And the most famous quote from this play, by a rebel commoner named Dick: "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."

Cade, about a lord: "Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin!"

Richard Plantagenet, the future King Richard III: "Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill."

Vocab & References

alder liefest, peroration, Althaea & Calydon, cullions, callet, meetest, hollaing, doit, groat, conventicles, condign, kerns, porpentine, Morisco, Aeolus, Ascanius, obsequies, pinnace, bezonians, palfrey, puissance, clouted shoon, buckram, besom, sallet, burgonet, Medea & Absyrtus, Aeneas & Anchises

The Virgin's Knot (2002)

2006-02-28T05:05:00.000-08:00

By Holly Payne

From the author's website: "She is called Nurdane, the famed weaver of Mavisu. From her remote mountain village in southwestern Turkey, she creates dowries for young brides: dazzling rugs, marvels of shape and color, texture and light. But it is her hands - the hands of an artist, and a virgin - that hold the essence of her mystery. An extraordinary series of events drives Nurdane to question the limitations of her faith and culture as she is caught between remaining pure in body and spirit... or risking everything for love. A novel imbued with the history and lore of Turkish culture and tradition, The Virgin's Knot chronicles a young woman's journey from innocence to knowledge, from loneliness to love."

What are the chances that I would review two items with the word "virgin" in the title, back-to-back? But there could hardly be two more divergent works of fiction!

The above description presents a cloyingly optimistic and romantic scenario, very little of which actually transpired. In reality, the book is darker and more opaque, with little by way of a happy or conventional conclusion. Nurdane's father, Ali, used his daughter's illiteracy - a condition forced on her by the tenants of Islam - to protect her from the painful truths of her existence as a crippled polio survivor. He insisted, when she was a young, gifted child sitting at the loom, that when Allah takes something, he provides something in return. By giving her a religious crutch on which to hang her sorrows and make peace with her deformed legs, Ali inadvertently stole from her any hope of a normal life.

From his lie, Ali created a spiritual deformity in Nurdane and a corruption of her identity that proved far more crippling than her disease. First, the small village of 50-odd families set Nurdane apart from them. She became The Virgin whose hands were guided to inspired perfection by Allah as she created woven masterpieces. She walked apart, lived in relative isolation, and proceeded through life with no expectation that she would ever marry and enjoy the simple domestic pleasures that other women would attain as a matter of given course. Most of the villagers feared and respected her, but friendship of a genuine, ordinary sort was not to be had.

Second, Ali took from Nurdane any pride and satisfaction in her own creativity and workmanship. Her rugs were priceless, wondrous creations of depth and beauty, but she gave all of the credit to Allah. By the reasoning of her father's lie, Nurdane rationalized that Allah would have withheld his gift - and she would never have become such an amazing weaver - if she had not contracted polio. She had an identity, yes, but it was one apart from her fellow villagers and one robbed of the pleasure she might derive from her own talent.

When John Hennessey, a forensic anthropologist, arrives with Nurdane's doctor, Adam, and as both men vie, in their own ways, for her attention, she is lost and bereft of any security her identity once provided. How can she remain this pure vessel for Allah if she experiences lust or acts on those feelings? The simple, time-honored reconciliation of spirituality with base, human desires - marriage - is denied her. She has been trained she childhood to think of her hands as pure, untouchable tools for a higher power, and thus even a sanctified marriage is unattainable. The result is heartbreak and a tragedy of misunderstanding that is at once fantastic and grim.

Only Hennessey understood the paradox of Nurdane's faith and personality, and he suffered her loss is a way that differed radically from even Adam and Ali. He understood that she was gifted, an artist of the rarest sort, but that she was also a woman. She was not a medical conundrum or a sacrosanct icon. And that woman could not survive the burdens of her gifted isolation.

While I found this book intellectually stimulating, with regard to questions of identity, femininity, religion, faith, and filial love, the text itself was rather cold and distant. Emotions were less felt than described or analyzed, rendering Nurdane's attraction to Hennessey one of psychological import rather than the passionate longing of the heart. Nurdane was a frustrating creation, both wise and so terribly naive, but she was a fully-fleshed human unlike any of the other characters. Hennessey was too stereotyped and randomly motivated to make sense entirely, and his goals both professionally and at the Mavisu dig were poetic but undefined. The other villagers were sheltered under the umbrella of "good Muslims," so their individuality was never fully engaged.

Dialogue was unmarked by quotation marks, making certain passages (especially those rife with pronouns) difficult to follow. The language was spare but surprisingly accurate. While obviously well-researched by a woman who loves the nation of Turkey, this book had none of the pompous, over-reaching descriptions of an author trying to cram as much authenticity into the prose as possible. The result was a picture of life I want nothing to do with and to which I can barely relate. Nurdane was a woman hampered by physical ailments, yes, but also by illiteracy, blind faith, and her father's restrictions, the result of which was a desperate plea for identity given voice only in the knots of her ancient craft.

Vocab: muezzin, minaret, internecine, mordant

The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005)

2006-02-25T13:58:00.000-08:00

Steve Carell (Andy), Catherine Keener (Trish), Paul Rudd (David), Seth Rogen (Cal)

Directed by Judd Apatow

From IMDB: "Goaded by his buddies, a nerdy guy who's never 'done the deed' only finds the pressure mounting when he meets a single mother."

Damn, that was funny.

Henry VI, Part One (2003)

2006-02-18T16:52:00.000-08:00

A Fully Dramatized Reading of William Shakespeare's The First Part of King Henry VI (1590)

Vol. I of The Complete Ark- angel Shakespeare by Audio Partners; David Tennant (Henry VI), John Bowe (Talbot), Norman Rodway (Gloucester), Amanda Root (Joan de Pucelle)

The Wikipedia plot summary can be found here.

Review

Wikipedia suggests that this play may be comprised of as little as 20% Shakespearian text, with the remaining portion written by a team of co-authors. This inconsistency can be most keenly observed in Act IV, scenes v-vii, throughout which every character speaks in rhyming couplets. Nowhere else in the play does this occur to such a regular extent. Characters might rhyme occasionally, for effect, but those three scenes of grating, singsong couplets were either written by a very young Shakespeare, demonstrating rough, early examples of his dramatic potential, or by some lesser- known playwright. Luckily, in either case, Shakespeare's later plays contain no such inconsistencies, nor rhymes that distract so thoroughly from the drama.

Chronologically, this was the first play with which Shakespeare is credited, although it was not published until some eight years later. Tricky turns of phrase and clever puns are all but missing from this text, and the thrust of the play is primarily in the action. This is, as Keven suggested, a Jerry Bruckheimer film from Elizabethan times. Wars, assaults, hand-to-hand fighting, and general mayhem are at center stage, while the characterization and intense personal insights that eventually become Shakespeare's most timeless contributions to literature are notably absent.

The character of Joan of Arc, referred to as Joan "La Pucelle" (the maid), was a stand out example of psychosis, ego, and snide arrogance - a fitting interpretation, perhaps, of a French heroine by an English playwright. She is strong, feared, and ultimately ridiculed as a sham and a hussy as she is dragged to the stake. Today, Joan of Arc is seen as a hero for the ages, in both legend and Hollywood, but this negative, nationalistic interpretation was as surprising as it was entertaining. But were I French, I would be terribly offended!

Talbot, the neutral, valiant solider fighting Charles the Dauphin in France, is admirably straight-forward. He is a leader and a fighter who is a victim of the Lancaster/York infighting, not a deceitful participant in those family schemes. But I look forward to seeing the development of the War of the Roses plot-line, which was given the short shrift here in favor or the multiple scenes of fighting and more fighting.

This play is notable, as well, because it is the only work credited to Shakespeare that has a cliff-hanger ending. No happy marriage or moral lesson - just the promise of calculations and deceit yet to come. I am actually looking forward to part two...

Quotes

Charles: "Him I forgive my death that killeth me / When he sees me go back one foot to flee!" (Made funnier by the very next line: "Who ever saw the like? what men have I! / Dogs! cowards! dastard! I would ne'er have fled / But that they left me midst my enemies.")

Talbot: "Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels, / And make a quagmire of your mingled brains."

Exeter: "'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands; / But more when envy breeds unkind division; / There comes the ruin, there begins confusion."

Talbot: "But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace / You tempt the fury of my three attendants, / Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; / Who, in a moment, even with the earth / Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers..."

A French General: "For ere the glass that now begins to run / Finish the process of this sandy hour, / These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, / Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead."

Charles: "On what submissive message art thou sent?" Sir William Lucy: "Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere French word..."

Vocab & References

marish, intermissive, amain, vaward, Walloon, bull-beeves, Oliver & Rowland, gimmer, nine sibyls, swart, sword of Deborah, recompense, shrives, recreants, Mahomet, Saint Philip's daughters, proditor, beard ("I beard thee to thy face"), contumeliously, espials, adamant ("posts of adamant"), Astraea, Rhodope of Memphis, Darius, quittance, trull, Tomyris & Cyrus, cates, quillets, daw, purblind, pursuivants, perforce, obloquy, diadem, pestiferous, weal, inkhorn, reguerdon, darnel, Hecate, gleeks, extirped, mickle, lither, giglot, periapts, banning ("fell, banning hag"), collop, avaunt, enow, lenity, and lucre

A Very Long Engagement (2004)

2006-02-18T16:42:00.000-08:00

Audrey Tautou (Mathilde), Gaspard Ulliel (Manech), Dominique Pinon (Sylvain), Jodie Foster (Elodie)

Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Amélie)

Language: French

From Hollywood Video: "Set in France near the end of World War I, this drama tells the story of a young woman who embarks on a relentless search for her fiancé, who is believed to have been court-martialed under mysterious circumstances."

Based on one of my favorite novels, by Frenchman Sébastiaen Japrisot, A Very Long Engagement must have been a nightmare to adapt to the big screen. Five men are court-martialed and sent to their deaths in the no-man's land between the French and German trenches. They all die... or did they? Mathilde, a stubborn woman who is hampered by legs long since damaged by polio, is convinced that her fiancé, Manech, is still alive. She begins to gather clues about his final moments, and each of those five condemned men has loved ones who must be interviewed. Each of those interviews leads to other clues. The cast list in the novel, plus their numerous code names and aliases, made my use of a notebook an essential part of the reading experience.

While several of the secondary soldiers' trails of clues (and the people who provided those clues) were cut for brevity's sake, I found this film remarkably faithful to the original novel. The tone, more than the individual details of who said what, came across almost exactly as I imagined. It was serious and downright disturbing throughout many of the most detailed battle scenes, the nightmarish realities of which were far more than I could pictured myself, but there were moments of playfulness that lived within Mathilde's imagination.

For example, the narrator (an unidentified female voice that could be interpreted as an older version of Mathilde, because of the intimate inner workings she reveals) indicates that Mathilde has sexual fantasies while alone in bed. However, she does not imagine intense scenes of pornographic sexuality. The movie cuts briefly to a portrayal of what she imagines - a black-and-white silent movie showing a woman being kissed passionately on the neck. The fancy of that scene, in that her sexual fantasies were images from contemporary films, made her character seem even more likeable and innocently childlike.

Tautou played Mathilde as an unlikely cross between serious intent, unflappable dedication, and... whimsy. Like a child, she played head games: "If I make it to the bend before the car, Manech will come back alive," she thought as she ran, on her braced legs, through the fields and toward the road. With the stoicism of a pure heart and absolute faith, Mathilde pursues the cold, heart-breaking trail despite all advice to the contrary. Her determination practically wills the dead to life.

Other characters were very entertaining and distinctive, each reflecting the sort of capricious individuality that was a hallmark of Japrisot's characterizations. Jodie Foster played the role of a lover to one of the condemned men. She has only one present-time scene, in French, with the rest portrayed in flashback while narrating a letter to Mathilde. I cannot guess as to the accuracy of her French or her accent, but she sounded fantastic to me, and the deep lines around her mouth spoke of an age and experience that she can legitimately bring to her roles now. Her character was supposed to be Polish, having lived in Paris for several years, so maybe that made her accent more acceptable to French audiences!

Overall, this was one of the most faithful novel adaptations I have ever seen, which is particularly nice considering how much I loved the book. However, as with the John Cusack adaptation of High Fidelity, the movie was so close to the written original that I gained little, substantially, from the experience of seeing my imagination on film. For the most part, I am pleased that they did not ruin or diminish a story that now, because of this film, can be enjoyed by a slightly wider audience. It is a subtitled film, after all, so we cannot hope for too much.

2006-02-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (2005)

2006-02-11T20:44:00.000-08:00

Brad Pitt (John Smith), Angelina Jolie (Jane Smith), Vince Vaughn (Eddie)

Directed by Doug Liman (The Bourne Identity)

From Hollywood Video: "On the outside, happily married Jane and John are glamorous, young, and sexy. What they don't know about each other is that they're both hired assassins who jet around the world offing people for cold hard cash. What they soon find out is that they've been hired to whack each other."

What is with that movie description? It's been translated into faux-"Sopranos" speak.

Jolie wore very nice garter belts, coats, thigh-high boots, and men's shirts, and her hair was perfect no matter the destruction raging around them, but there was not nearly enough hard-core movie make-out sex. The PG-13 rating kept this from being a truly entertaining film. The banter was cute, but not laugh-aloud funny. They were just TOO COOL to be funny, as opposed to the bunch in the Ocean's films who managed to be both. The finale fight scene lasted entirely too long. But eye candy? Yes it was. Just wanted a bit more candy and a little less mayhem.

I love it when Jolie stops pouting a proves she can act. There is a moment when she and Pitt are in a stand-off, guns to each other's heads, and he lowers his weapon. She wants the excuse to kill him. She's crying. She yells at him... and her voice breaks. Such a throw-away little movie, but there was some serious depth to that scene. Unfortunately for Brad, as with his scenes opposite the incomparable Peter O'Toole in Troy, he was laughably out-classed.

Oh, and Cameron from "House" made a surprise appearance. Good to see people you enjoy seeing everyday clawing their way onto the big screen. George Clooney is every TV actor's hero.

Salome (1968)

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By Richard Strauss

Libretto: Richard Strauss, based on the play Salomé by Oscar Wilde

Performers: Montserrat Caballé (Salome), Regina Resnik (Herodias), Sherrill Milnes (Jokanaan), and Richard Lewis (Herod); Erich Leinsdorf conducting the London Symphony Orchestra, London, 1968

Want to know the plot? Click here.

Before Salome, I had never experienced an opera of such a condensed time frame. At one hour and forty minutes, this one-act performance seemed particularly fast. The plot or thrust of action, however, is amazing thin. John the Baptist (Jokanaan) refuses Salome's nubile 16-yo advances. He insults her mother. Her uncle-turned-step-father wants her. She dances for daddy dearest at the promise of receiving anything she desires for compensation. She wants John's head. She makes out with the decapitated head of the man who refused her in life. Wow! As you might suspect, audiences at its premiere were appalled and shocked.

Caballé, as always, delivered a first-rate performance, but there was no way to expect that hers was the voice of a disturbed teenager. This opera was also unique in my experiences in that the part of Salome features at 15-minute solo. Who better to deliver such a demanding performance than one of the twentieth century's best sopranos? The supporting cast and their roles seemed there solely for the purpose of supporting and highlighting Salome, both the character and the diva bringing her to life.

However, beyond the lovely psychological peculiarities and all-out shock value of Salome, the entertainment value ended there. The music was not as entrancing as previous operas I have enjoyed, and I found my mind wandering during the extended arias. I am a philistine with a preference for plot over arias, so the slow, deliberate story did not hold my attention, as opposed to something like Pelléas et Mélisande, where arias are almost completely absent and the story is, instead, propelled by something akin to lyric conversation. And, of course, "The Dance of the Seven Veils" isn't nearly as entertaining without being able to watch the dances that go along with it.

The Time-Traveler's Wife (2004)

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By Audrey Niffenegger

Book description: "A dazzling novel in the most untraditional fashion, this is the remarkable story of Henry DeTamble, a dashing, adventuresome librarian who travels involuntarily through time, and Clare Abshire, an artist whose life takes a natural sequential course. Henry and Clare's passionate love affair endures across a sea of time and captures the two lovers in an impossibly romantic trap, and it is Audrey Niffenegger's cinematic storytelling that makes the novel's unconventional chronology so vibrantly triumphant."

I recently wrote a post about my top five novels of all time. I have to let the initial shock of this book wear off before adjusting my favorites, but The Time Traveler's Wife will certainly make the top three.

I bought this for my mother-in-law at Christmas, after random searching and several remarkable reviews. She will need reading material for their upcoming trip to Australia! However, the plot did not really appeal to me, and I had no intention of reading it. Then Kara, a friend of ours from England, wrote to me about this novel I just HAD to read. She was distressed to see that it wasn't on my reading list. So after a few weeks on the hold list at the library, I had it in my hands.

I gobbled the first 250 pages in two evenings. I actively had to keep myself from reading during the day, lest I neglect all personal hygiene and maternal responsibilities. But after that first half, I stopped reading. Had this been a romance novel, I would have had no qualms about charging ahead and finishing the thing as quickly as possible, certain of a happy ending. But this had no such rosy promises to offer. Niffenegger created real people, despite the science fiction-based plot, and real people live life, not a fairy tale. I wanted to freeze time and keep these marvelous characters safe from whatever awaited them. But freezing time or altering time - and the inability to do so - is discussed at length within these pages, leaving me with the inevitable task: I had to finish.

Last night, at roughly 1:30am, I was a snot-covered mess of tears and sobs (but it was not all sad). I have never read a more emotionally powerful novel. Granted, many books have emotional scenes or gut-wrenching conclusions, but I was crying through more than 100 pages. After turning off the lights, struggling toward sleep, I could not turn my off my mind. Glimpses of their predicament, memories of particular moments, and just trying to grasp the marvel of such a fanatically plotted book kept me awake for another hour. I awoke with questions and musings. It will not leave me alone.

For example, after I learned...

...see this is tough. I want everyone to read this book, but I cannot say a word about the delicacies and quirks for fear of giving away what made the experience so special for me. I cannot tell you when I lost it. I cannot say what made me laugh. Niffenegger did such a wonderful job that her work deserves to remain unspoiled until a reader stumbles into it, like I did.

As a side note, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston bought the rights to its film production, back before their divorce. Gus Van Sant, who directed Good Will Hunting, is slated to direct, but no cast is yet associated with the project. I vote Bryce Dallas Howard as Clare, because her funny, strong, resilient, innocent performance in The Village suggests that she is an actress who possesses a remarkable level of emotional control and depth. She's pretty without being distractingly sexy, and she's got all that Howard family red hair (Clare is a redhead). Thinking of The Village and their fantastic, subtle, generous screen chemistry, I think that Joaquin Phoenix, all darkness and intensity, would make Henry come alive. I would love to se him stretch his acting legs and work with such material - older, younger, happy, wild, content, sad, desperate. But then, Van Sant could go for Matt Damon's all-American versatility and do well, too.

Just go read it and be glad that you did.