movie nonz-sense 07

It's no secret I love movies, though love is too slight a word. To quote Woody Allen in Annie Hall: "Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?" Word, Woody.

It's been a long and somewhat disappointing year for me in terms of new releases. I've had a better experience with pre-07 films (Annie Hall included...I've done some catching up) and I could write an entire issue of Cinaste covering important movies in my lifetime, but this list will be limited to only those released within the last year. This list has not been well cultivated, documented, nor researched. The only requirements of those that made it are that they had an impact on me in some way and I happen to remember them as I sit down and type this at 11 pm on this Sunday night. Undoubtedly, some great flicks have been overlooked. It should also be noted that I haven't had the opportunity to see as many movies as I'd like to (namely, I'm Not There and La Vie en Rose which I'd hope would make it on my list had I seen them).
*
Across the Universe

Okay. Any true Beatle fan (which I consider myself) would probably not agree here. However, Julie Taymor (the director who brought The Lion King to Broadway and Selma Hayek's Frida to the screen) is a captivating storyteller--bells, whistles, psychedelic bus rides and all. Her re-visioning of the Beatles catalogue is NOT what the stingy fab four fans might label blasphemous. Instead, it is a testament to the timelessness of the music, the men who made it, and the era in history it represented. Taymor's stylistic embellishments and musical numbers color the narrative of young lovers in a fucked up world beautifully. Just as the Beatles did with their music films (Hard Days Night, etc) Taymor realizes that a thoughtful pairing of music and image, when done right, is difficult to shake out of the brain. (Sidenote: this movie holds good memories of a new friend for me, the unavoidable but often wonderful truth of art and association.)

Waitress

I was not a Felicity viewer until some time in my late college years, and then only because it happened to be on in the family room around 6:00 when I was living with my parents and Mom and I would spend that time cooking in the kitchen. We were soon both under the spell of the Noel/Felicity/Ben love triangle. Oi. (Noel was the better man by far.)

Anyway, I rented this mostly out of morbid curiosity. The writer/director/actress Adrienne Shelley was murdered shortly after the film's release. That alone was enough to get me to grab it from the shelf.

Keri Russell (Felicity) plays Jenna, a pie diner waitress newly pregnant by an abusive husband. The film uses some familiar tactics: off-beat supporting characters, voice-over narration, food as metaphor as Jenna comes up with pie recipes that symbolize events in her life. What really makes this movie good is the understated humor and hard-edge that Russell breathes into her character. (I never knew she had it in her.) Her utter contempt for her unborn child was much more poignant than the sarcasm in the other "unwanted pregnancy" film of the year: Juno (which was also very good, but head to head with Waitress not as nuanced). Juno's one-liners and seeming ambivalence to her pregnancy could be chalked up to immaturity, youth, and an underdeveloped worldview. Funny? Yes. Touching? Also yes. Well acted? Definitely. However, Keri Russell deserved the accolades Ellen Paige received for drawing me in to a character I disliked for much of the movie but rejoiced for by the end. There has not been a more effectively subtle character arc this year.

Once

A somewhat under-the-radar release. I saw this one with the folks one night over winter break, and I'm finding it a little difficult to pin down just what I liked so much about it. The music, obviously--and god-love Marketa Irglova and her mouse-brown hair and ankle-length traditional skirts, but--Glen Hansard is crazy good. Crazy good. They're both obviously untrained actors, and yes that lends the film a bit of awkward charm and natural chemistry, but it's not what propels the movie. Glen, like his name, is not typical leading-man material but you wouldn't know it because from the very first scene as he rips away at his guitar in the streets, you see him as a musician and not an actor. His music and performances provide the heartbeat to this clever and sweet story. Also, big props for the resistance to the typical Hollywood formula by the end of the film.

The Orphanage (El Orfanato)

I'm not a big fan of horror and/or scary movies. Not that I can't appreciate a good one, just that it's not my preferred genre. However, when I saw that a Mankato theater was actually running the Guillermo del Toro backed film The Orphanage, I had to go. I can't say much at the risk of spoiling any plot points, but, to be vague: the pace of the film was perfect (which is something I consider essential for an effective scary movie especially--namely the mounting and release of suspense and tension), the element of magical realism was well established and well played, and the lead actress was wonderful...it was as if at the beginning of the film she took your gut, placed it into her pocket, and carried it along as her story unfolded.

A few days after the film, while it was still rattling around in my head, I remember telling AKC about the experience. As I was sitting in the movie theater, I was completely involved with what was on that screen. While watching this film, I was thinking two or three steps ahead of the action or piecing together what I'd seen and how it'd come in to play later, but always within the world of the film. Part of the appeal of movies is the element of escapism--from your day, from your family or friends, from reality even. Scary movies seem to heighten that experience, The Orphanage more than any I can remember in my life.

No Country for Old Men

This is a tricky one because I've only had a day to let it marinate. I had to travel 20 miles outside of Mankato to catch it, but luckily I have good friends up for movie road trips.

For starters, the Coen brothers have made some of my very favorite movies: Fargo, Raising Arizona, The Big Lebowski, Blood Simple. NCfOM is definitely one of the buzz-films of 07 with all the nominations and awards, and knowing that I possibly wouldn't have the opportunity to see it before it came to DVD, I tried to stay away from anything--articles, entertainment shows, friends and family--that would influence me and my initial viewing, and for the most part I was successful. All I knew going in to it was that Javier Bardem was good (AGREED), the movie was good (AGREED) and people had problems with the "open-ended" ending (WTF?).

I was first struck by the landscape and cinematography, very reminiscent of Fargo, and to a certain extent Raising Arizona--long, slow shots of open and sparse country. In Fargo, the expanse of white sky on white snow created a kind of limitless abyss, as does the dry Texas landscape. It creates a bit of an illusion: though there is an entire world for Llewelyn to hide out in, the farther he goes, the more trapped he becomes...as though his fate was sealed the moment he discovered the money. And the fate that is Javier Bardem's character is a constant presence in the movie, even when he's not on screen. Scary SOB.

A quick note about the Coens' ability to draw fabulous performances out of character-actor caliber actors. The one that stuck out to me most in NCfOM was the one and only appearance by Barry Corbin (the guy from "Northern Exposure") near the end...a 5-10 minute scene with Tommy Lee Jones. I would give all the credit to Corbin, but like I say, the Coen's have done this before.

Next is the script. There is not one line of dialogue or narration wasted. Having just read McCarthy's The Road, I was already a little tuned in and therefore able to appreciate it more I think. Much of the most important communication in the film comes in the silences, in what is not said between two characters, or between what is said instead of saying what really should be said. Just like a good novel, the audience is not fed lines that tell them what to think and feel; this experience rises from the tone and delivery of almost all of the interactions between Bardem and the main players (most effectively with Llewelyn's wife near the end).

Which brings me to the fuss over the "open" ending: I don't understand...what is open-ended about it? Maybe it's more a result of audiences used to a story wrapped up and tied with a big red bow seconds before the credits roll. By the end, all the major questions are answered, if not explicity, heavily implied by what's already been established. Anything remaining (and I won't discolse it here as not to spoil it) doesn't matter to the intention and execution of the film.

Friends: gear up for another road trip next weekend. We need to see this again.

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