The Conversation (1974)

So, I guess last week’s post was the official bringing in of the fall film season.  As I stated then, I started out with a bang on Easy A and The Town.  The fall season is typically when many of the awards contenders will make their commercial releases, after premiering at festivals such as Telluride, Toronto, and Venice, which have all taken place within the last month or so.  I am very excited about some of the projects coming out this fall, and expect it to be a great year for movies.

Soon enough I plan on writing up a post on some of my most anticipated for the rest of the year, but for now I wanted to slip in a review of a little film called The Conversation before I get rolling too heavily on the fall film madness. 

I am sad to say that I wasn’t even aware of this film’s existence until about 2 years ago.  It was directed by this guy—you may have heard of him—Francis Ford Coppola?  Yeah, him.  The guy known for making The Godfather films, as well as Apocalypse Now, some of the most celebrated films of all time, yet in the few weeks since I’ve seen The Conversation, it is becoming harder for me to think that it isn’t his best film. 

It stars Gene Hackman as a surveillance guru who’s kind of a loner, and it becomes clearer and clearer as the film gets going that he has some skeletons in his closet that will affect many of his choices the further he goes along.

The direction is breathtaking—forgive me for being trite, but Coppola has quite the eye.  The first scene of the film (which takes place in San Francisco) is a bird’s eye view of Union Square (see picture on left).  We are watching and listening to different groups of people—wondering who we are supposed to be watching.  As Coppola zooms in, we hear “the conversation” going on between a couple—which forms the basis of the entire plot—and then learn that Hackman’s character is bugging them, listening to their every word. 

As he painstakingly plays their conversation over and over throughout the film, intending to solve the mystery, I became increasingly nervous and worried—the conversation, which at first seemed so innocent—starts to become sinister.  A haunting little song—“when the red red robin goes bob-bob-bobbin along”—is used several times, masterfully, as a device to keep the audience on edge. 

Incredible Opening Shot by Coppola

And then there’s the way in which Hackman’s character deals with all of this.  His guilt from whatever past-life we don’t know about seeps its way into the story, so much so that at some points we aren’t sure if what is happening is real or a projection of that guilt.  This is supplemented by his paranoia of the people he is working for, and the combination of these two themes makes for an incredibly intense film.

This film is definitely high-concept art compared to the other three ‘70’s Coppola films that I mentioned above (by the way, has anyone ever made 4 better movies within 7 years?).  But The Conversation seems so personal, so real and warm compared to the chilliness of The Godfather films, for instance.  The style is deliberate but very fitting for the themes portrayed.  An overall fantastic film.  9/10. 

The Double Feature

 I don’t say this enough, but I married into a wonderful family.  Both of my wife’s parents are amazing cooks (the #1 test of a good family), they always take my side on everything (even when I’m wrong), and my father-in-law and I like mostly all of the same sports teams (even though he’s a sport’s bigamist, claiming he likes both OU and UT). 

But nowhere did I realize how much I would fit in with my then future in-laws more than in December of ’05.  Clelyn and I went and saw a movie with her dad while visiting Little Rock for the holidays, and afterwards we were leaving to go hang out with some friends.  As we were walking out of the movie theatre and towards the exit, her dad careened towards and into another theater. 

Homer & I both love popcorn
& double features

Me: “What’s he doing?”

Clelyn: “Oh, he’s just doing a double-feature.” 

Me: “Whoa.” 

The next morning at breakfast he told us that he saw not a double-feature, or a triple-feature, but a quadruple-and-a-half-feature.  10 straight hours of film accompanied by a refillable large popcorn and coke. 

Now this is a family that I knew I had to be a part of. 

Anyway, in the spirit of the Chapin family, we try and catch a double-feature every once in a while.  On Saturday we saw Easy A followed by The Town.  Easy A is probably my favorite teen comedy since Superbad, but it’s a completely different type of comedy.  As far as comparisons go, it’s much more along the lines of Clueless and Mean Girls—satire on the politics of high school social life.  Emma Stone is hilarious and has more than enough chops to carry the film, but it doesn’t hurt that Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci play her parents, and all-but steal every scene they are in.  You can bet this film will be a big hit and have lasting impact. 

The Town is the type of movie that makes me wish I didn’t ever talk about movies with other people, or constantly read about/analyze film on the web.  Don’t get me wrong, I thought it was a really solid film.  But everyone I talk to thinks it’s the best crime movie since _________________ (insert whatever hyperbolic comparison you wish, ranging anywhere from The Departed to Mystic River to Pulp Fiction).  And others have already handed it the Best Picture envelope.  Anyway, the point is that it is a really high-quality heist film that is well-directed by Ben Affleck (in his second effort), and features an incredible ensemble cast (highlighted by the amazingly evil Jeremy Renner), but that’s ALL it is—a good, solid heist film.  I’d venture to say that it’s not even as good as Gone Baby Gone (Ben Affleck’s directorial debut), which had at its center quite a bit more substance than The Town—it was morally and ethically ambiguous in a way that The Town wasn’t (not that it didn’t try), and moreover, it did a better job at representing all the different layers of Boston society.  Having said all of that, The Town is definitely an entertaining flick worth seeing, and I really wish my enjoyment of it hadn’t been curbed by people freaking out about how amazing it is; but I guess that’s really my own fault.

All in all, great Saturday at the movies.

(Note: this blog post in no way condones theft of any kind.  Any person seeing more than one movie in a row should obviously pay for both tickets, even if that person was gouged up the rear by popcorn and/or coke by paying upwards of 5,000% of its value.)  

Basic Instinct (1992)

Robocop.

Starship Troopers. 

Total Recall. 

Showgirls. 

Hollow Man....and

Basic Instinct. 

Well, hello there Ms. Stone.

What do all of these fine American films have in common?  No...it’s not my current Netflix queue.  They were all directed by one of my new favorite people in the film industry, Paul Verhoeven.  I want to meet this man.  I want to know his mind.  His twisted, beautiful mind.  What else do all of these films (except Hollow Man) have in common?  The best way I can describe it is that they are all “infamous” films.  They’re not bad films per se, and they’re definitely not good films either.  But I get the feeling that Mr. Verhoeven isn’t seeking to make “good” films.  Rather, he is seeking to make something provocative.  Whether the shock value comes from warped sci-fi action as in Starship Troopers & Totall Recall, or sexually in Showgirls & Basic Instinct, Verhoeven wants us to see something that we have not seen before.  They are all well-known films, but not because they are good. 

So, with a vague awareness of Paul Verhoeven’s films as well as the film itself, I recently sat down on a Saturday morning with my cup of coffee, my wife and dog, and...Basic Instinct.  And what a pleasant Saturday morning it was. 

As far as plot outlines go, if you haven’t seen it, all you really need to know is that it’s about a cop (Michael Douglass) is in charge of the investigation of a murder, in which the prime suspect is a beautiful young woman (Sharon Stone).

Basic Instinct may literally be the most unintentionally funny film I have ever seen. The pure sincerity of Michael Douglass and Sharon Stone as they speak some of the cheesiest lines in film history.  The brash confidence of Ms. Stone as she unclothes herself over and over, no matter who may be watching.  The various murder scenes playing out like some sort of 70’s teen-slasher homage.  The whole thing is just one entertaining romp after another.  My wife and I were laughing through the entire thing. 

And speaking of homage, the movie is largely a deranged homage to Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, one of my personal favorite films.  Both movies take place in San Francisco, involve murder investigations, and follow the leading men as they trail their respective femme fatales down the rabbit hole of seduction and desire.  The ironic thing is that the film with no gratuitous sex, graphic nudity, and provocative violence and language (Vertigo) accomplishes exactly the reaction that Verhoeven sought to invoke with those things in Instinct.  The payoff in Vertigo is so huge because of what it doesn’t show, whereas the payoff in Instinct is comparatively tiny because of what it had already shown, if that makes sense. 

Verhoeven is quoted as saying that he wanted this to be the first mainstream film ever released that had full frontal male nudity.  Well, fortunately for me, this didn’t actually come to pass.  But he did manage to make something that is provocative as all get-out and incredibly fun because of how serious it takes itself. 

Oh, and then, there’s the infamous “leg-crossing scene” (see above).      

(Note: please, try your hardest not to judge me for watching this film)

Weekend Recap

So over the last couple of weeks the wifey and I have been discussing the possibility of getting rid of our cable.  It’s not the cost as much as the fact that between our laptops and the TV, the last two hours of every week night inevitably turn us into zombies, and by 10:30 we are communicating solely through a series of grunts until we lay comatose in bed.  So on Thursday I finally called AT&T Uverse, our cable provider, to cancel.  The conversation went something like this:

Mad Men dominated the Emmy's and my weekend.

Me: We’re gonna have to cancel our cable.  I just don’t think we can afford it anymore.  

AT&T Guy: I think we can upgrade you from the U100 to the U200 for the same price as you are paying now.

Me: Well, it’s just too much right now, I don’t think more channels would help the cost.

AT&T Guy: Well, we can also knock 30 bucks off of your monthly payment. 

Me: Yeah, that would help, I just don’t know if 30 bucks would be enough right now.

AT&T Guy: Well, I want to do everything I can to get you more for your money.  How about, in addition to what I already mentioned, I include an HBO/Movie package as well? 

Me: Hmm.  Yeah, that sounds pretty good but I just wish we could do something more about the cost. 

AT&T Guy: Well I can’t do anything more about the cost—how about I throw in a sports package and free HD for the next six months also?

Me: Hmm.  Yeah that would help, I just don’t know though...I think I’m still gonna have to cancel.

AT&T Guy: (thinks for a little bit)...Well sir, I want to do everything I can to help, so how about I wipe out all of your monthly charges for the next month. 

Me: You’ve got yourself a deal. 

So basically, we will remain zombies for the time being, except now that we have HBO, NFL Network, TCM, IFC, Sundance, and Cinemax, we will be like super zombies.  Not just undead, but double-undead.  Needless to say, my weekend in film turned out to be great—Funny People, The Informant!, (500) Days of Summer, Monster’s Ball, XMen Origins: Wolverine, Basic Instinct (more on this later), and The Hangover were all part of my weekend with HBO.  Add on top of that The Kids Are Alright, which I saw Thursday night at River Oaks, and a great Sunday evening involving Mad Men and the Emmy’s, and you can guess just how often my butt deviated from my couch.  In a related story, for any of my gambling friends, the over/under for how much longer my marriage lasts is 9 months. 

Look for a glowing (and I mean GLOWING) review of Basic Instinct coming soon. 

How To Make a Movie, Volume II

To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

Atticus Finch definitely taught me a thing or two.

A few weeks ago I started my new favorite running series on my blog, “How to Make a Movie.”  Once again, I must stipulate that I’ve never made a movie, which would be enough to stop most people from instructing others.  However, I’m only sure of about nine things on this earth, and one of those nine things is that To Kill a Mockingbird is a nearly flawless film.  Thus, I don’t think it is too much of a stretch for filmmakers to take a cue from it on how to make a movie. 

The other night I took my wife out on a date (!), and in a lame attempt to be romantic, I asked her this question: If you could choose any ONE work of art (i.e. painting, sculpture, movie, song, book, poem, stage-production, TV show, anything that could remotely be considered art) that most embodies something about who you are or connects with you more than any other work of art, what would it be?  Her answer was the book “Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte.  But this post isn’t about her answer.  As I was asking myself the same question, literally the first thing that flashed across my mind was To Kill a Mockingbird.  Perhaps the reason for this is that it connects with me on multiple levels. I first watched it when I was around the age of five, and since then, I have probably seen it somewhere in the vicinity of fifty times.   What’s great is that the narrative is told from the perspective of Scout (the six year-old tomboy), and so even though there are important issues covered, it is told in a way that even small children can understand.  As I grew older, Scout’s older brother, Jem, became the character I connected with.  I had a secret treasure chest in my room, just like Jem, and I’m pretty sure I pretended several times over the years that a certain neighbor on my street was Boo Radley.  Obviously, growing into adulthood, and especially beginning law school, Atticus Finch became the character I looked up to; an inspiring yet soft-spoken, understated yet powerful man who embodies everything good in this world—specifically, defending a black man accused of rape in the 1930’s in Alabama—and goes about this business as if it’s just another Tuesday morning.

So specifically, out of about 537 things that To Kill a Mockingbird could teach someone about making a movie, three seem to stand out to me:

Step 1: Use the Camera Lens to Your Advantage

            Or, in other words, enhance the story through your medium.  Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the most celebrated American novels ever written.  Most directors could have just told the story in the book without doing anything fancy and the movie would have turned out pretty well.  However, director Robert Mulligan used the camera to his advantage.  The story is told in the novel from Scout’s perspective, and he never lets us forget it.  Most of what we see in the film is through her eyes.  We are just as scared of the Radley household as Scout and Jem are, because that is the way they see it.  The scenes in the courtroom , even though they feature Atticus, constantly show the children and their reaction to everything.  Additionally, there is one great scene at the end in which an altercation takes place between Boo Radley and Bob Ewell with Scout present, only we can’t see them, because Scout is stuck inside a ham costume and can’t see them.  Many directors would have taken the easy route with this film, and focused it more on Atticus and the trial, but Mulligan delivered something substantially more meaningful because of his willingness to take a risk and enhance the story through his lens. 

Step 2: Be Relevant

One of the reasons To Kill a Mockingbird was successful was that it was made during the Civil Rights Movement.  Obviously the racial implications of the story are relevant, but one thing I like is that it doesn’t necessarily hit you over the head with an overly moral or holier-than-thou approach.  Rather, the story tackles the tough issues with a childlike wonder that is not found often in cinema.  Yes, there are a few Atticuses in the world, people who will do the right thing in any circumstance; and yes, there are a few Bob Ewells in the world, people who are simply filled with hate and intolerance and nothing else.  But most of us in this world are Scouts—people who are seeking to do the right thing but don’t always know the best approach; we clumsily find our way through our various prejudices on our quest to find understanding and empathy in this world, and we should surround ourselves with Atticuses and Jems on that quest.  The great thing about this theme is that it is an enduring one—what was relevant in the 60’s to racism has now turned into other issues—yet the same lessons still apply. 

Step 3: Be Emotionally Engaging

            A step that may seem difficult but this movie makes it look easy.  A lynch mob seeking to kill Tom Robinson in his cell turns around after Scout speaks to Mr. Cunningham and says that she’s friends with his son at school.  After unsuccessfully defending a black man in trial, a whole balcony of African-Americans honor Atticus by standing up as he passes through under them.  When Scout finally meets Boo Radley, she immediately realizes that not only is she not scared of him, but that he has loved her for her entire life. 

...and of course I could go on and on.  This is a dearly beloved film and book that I doubt I need to sell many of you on.  When I think about what movies should resemble, this is one of the first films that comes to mind.  I think about how it’s not just important to do the right thing, but to go through the process that teaches you to do the right thing.  I think about how things that we don’t understand seem scary until we look them in the eye.  I think about love—familial love, love in friendships, love in community, and love of mockingbirds—who “don't do anything but make music for us to enjoy...they don't eat people's gardens, don't nest in the corncrib, they don't do one thing but just sing their hearts out for us.”

Inception, Part II: The Bad, and then some more Good

In part I below, I set out to discuss the good aspects of Inception, but then realized that I only discussed one good aspect of it and failed to hit on some of the finer points that warrant praise.  So after I discuss what I didn’t like, I’ll compliment sandwich the film, ending on some good notes. 

I’m not sure whether or not this was intentional, but the only character in the film that had more than one dimension was Dom Cobb, the main character (although it’s arguable that Mal, his wife, had more than one dimension, we only really see one side of her since she is a projection of Dom’s subconscious).  All of the other characters seem to fill the screen like some sort of Hollywood paint-by-numbers: the sidekick who questions the main character’s ability to not let his personal life get in the way, the young protégé who asks all the questions, and of course, the token foreigner in charge of the mystic sedatives.  This would have been fine if we actually got to explore their characters a little further, but as it stands they end up being no more than set props to help play out the narrative. 

A lot of reviews are raving about Hanz Zimmer’s score, and yes, it is really good.  However, another problem I have is not with the score itself, but how it is used.  As in The Dark Knight, Nolan doesn’t take a break from the score for the entire third act of the film, slowly building its crescendo throughout, so that by the end all we get are 20 minutes worth of thunderous trombones.  Like I said, the score is good but I’m not really sure why it had to be used in this way. 

As with many movies, there is a personal aspect to the equation, and I will fully admit that 10% of any of my problems with this film can be attributed to that.

See, if I had to come up with a top-5 list for reasons I got into film, Chris Nolan’s Memento would unquestionably be on the list.  I remember thinking the first time I watched that film at age 16 how original and new it seemed to me; and that if movies like that could be made, then the possibilities for artistry in the film medium were endless. 

To me, his success with The Dark Knight and now Inception can be likened to a band that you liked before any of your friends knew about them—maybe their first album was raw, but the music was personal to you because of the band’s relative anonymity.  Once the band got popular, produced a polished-studio album, and had their hits played all over the radio, you still enjoyed the music but it was a totally different experience.  The romance was somehow sucked out of it.  Well, it’s difficult for me to not feel this way about Nolan.  I obviously enjoy his recent films, but part of me wishes that at some point he’d trade in a Hollywood blockbuster in for a scaled back character-driven piece—that he’d summon his inner Hitchcock instead of his inner Spielberg.  Maybe it’s the film-snob in me, but I believe that’s where his A+ talents lie.  Surely he’s got something as good as Memento up his sleeve, right?  I guess the good news is that either way, he’s made seven films now and there’s not a dud in the bunch, so even if he sticks with the Hollywood-esque grandiose films, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m going to see a great film with him at the helm.

Some more good that I didn’t hit on: the acting is superb (although I wish Ken Wantanabe would learn to speak English a bit better).  I wouldn’t call this a career performance for Leo, but he definitely carries the film effortlessly.  Joseph Gordon Levitt gives us a side that we haven’t seen of him yet in his role, and I’m very excited to see where his career will go after the success of this and 500 Days of Summer.  I also really enjoyed Tom Hardy in his role, as well as Cillian Murphy as the “target” of the Inception.  Given that the characters weren’t extremely well-written, I was impressed.  As I said earlier, the score was great and added the necessary tension.  The aesthetics of the film were obviously amazing: production design, cinematography, costumes and even make-up were all really well-done.  Nolan tends to work with the same people over and over in these areas (including actors) and it is clear that they have become a well-oiled machine. 

Full disclosure: I have no idea how to end this post.  This and my last posts are unequivocally the most difficult and frustrating posts I’ve worked on since starting up this blog.  There are so many elements and angles to explore, and there is simply no coherent way that I can put it together.  I suck.  The magnitude of Inception is almost too much for even a real film critic to get a handle on, much less mainstream audiences and wannabe bloggers. 

And maybe that, above anything, should tell you all you really need to know about 2010’s Inception. 

Inception, Part I: The Good

A few weeks ago I wrote a (very) tongue-in-cheek post about how I wanted to become the biggest Inception fanboy of all time.  Now, after seeing the zealous response of the critics and masses to the film, spending some time on IMDb forums, and being a firsthand witness to the complete euphoria of every (repeat: every) 19-year old male computer-geek in Cupertino, CA at the midnight IMAX premiere of the film, I realize there is just no humanly way that would have been possible for me, even if I was dead serious in that endeavor.  The hype for this film, both pre and post-release, has to rival just about any original (i.e., not Twilight or Harry Potter) film ever, including last winter’s AVATAR. 

In that post, I was being serious when I stated that we, as movie-goers, deserve to be wowed every once in a while—that for every 50 Leap Year’s, Sex and the City 2’s, Marmaduke’s, and Saw #7’s that we belabor through, there is at least one Gladiator, The Departed, or The Dark Knight that we can hang our hat on—a blockbuster that entertains, thrills, and invokes a sense of wonder, and (gulp) is  well-made.   And on that note, the summer of 2010 was kind enough to give us Inception, which succeeds mightily on that front. 

In part I here, I’ll discuss the good.  I give the film a solid 8/10, though I’m open to bumping that up on a second watch. The magnitude of the story is too much to digest in the first viewing, even for the smartest people (i.e., not me).  I will not attempt to delineate any of the logistics involved with the film in this post, but for a great analysis of the different layers of the dreams, rules associated with the dream-world and such, check out my buddy Taylor’s IMDb post.  Anyway, Christopher Nolan goes back to an old stand-by theme used in some of his earlier work (Memento & The Prestige (and Following for the most fervent of Nolan snobs)): Reality vs. Perception.  Obviously, Nolan conveys this motif through the various layers of dream scenarios in this film, and plays with the characters and audience in this epic ping-pong match between what is real and what is not, up until the very end.  Dom Cobb’s entire existence revolves around straddling this line, as he manipulates the dreams of others in order to influence their reality.  Unfortunately for him, the ability to do this to others enables him to manipulate himself, and make no mistake: that is what the film is about—to what degree has Dom Cobb manipulated his own reality? 

The fact that a summer movie can give us something that big to chew on gives me hope for mankind.  The fact that it can be done in such an entertaining, cerebral, action-packed, well written, logistically genius and mind-bending film that is 2 ½ hours long is nothing short of spectacular.  Is Christopher Nolan the next Hitchcock or Kubrick?  Maybe not…yet.  But did he give me everything I could possibly want in a summer blockbuster?  Yes, yes, and yes. 

See Part II for the Bad, and then some more Good.