We haven't been to a theatre since "The King's Speech," so we'll be reviewing our Netflix choices for awhile. I'll start with last night's viewing of "The Cowboys." I wonder whether it's worth the time to list all of the flaws in this movie? I know that for many, it is blasphemy to utter any criticism whatsoever of any of the Duke's movies, but it must be done.
Whatever the weaknesses of the film, the performances were not one of them. Wayne, Dewhurst, Brown, Dern were all as good as ever. Most of the boys turned in adequate if not stellar performances.
However, what might have been a thoughtful, heartwarming, and exciting coming of age adventure rapidly degenerated into a shallow, bloody and violent celebration of the American myth of "man as killer." Rather than becoming men as the result of struggling with themselves, as they learn the meaning of duty, responsibility, and loyalty, and with nature, they become "men" by strapping on guns and killing other men in order to exact revenge. We are meant to cheer them as they deal "frontier justice" to a dozen outlaws, finishing off the last one in a particularly brutal manner. I wish that I could believe that the filmmakers had wanted us to be sickened by the effect of the violence on the young men, but it is quite clear that we are meant to see them as heroes.
Although this is the primary weakness of the film, there are others. The plot is utterly contrived, relies too heavily on coincidences, and is episodic. We can just believe that every single able-bodied male in the county has run off to the gold fields and that boys of 13 would be rounded up to fill out an outfit, but it is asking a lot for us to accept that the parents of pre-pubescent males would send them off in the company of other boys only a few years older, and only two adults.
The boys encounter a traveling brothel, which apparently has set up alongside a stream in the middle of the wilderness on the off chance that a cattle drive will just happen to pass by. While Colleen Dewhurst makes the most of her 15 minutes, it is a cameo, not a starring performance. Her statement that "The first time should be in the backseat of a buggy with someone he thinks he loves" is hardly authentic to the period. Buggies don't have backseats.
As soon as we see Bruce Dern we know that he will show up again later as the villain -- and he does. Poor man was terribly typecast in the 70s. He is, of course, without any redeeming features whatsoever, within the stark dichotomy of the film. We must accept him as the epitome of evil in order for us to endorse the boys' acts of vengeance. Given the genuine hardships -- up before dawn, riding all day in the blazing sun or pouring rain, standing watch at night, living on beans and biscuits, sleeping on the ground, the smell of the cows, the horses and each other -- and dangers of the trail -- stampedes, river crossings, snakes, wolves and coyotes stalking the herd, horses stepping in prairie dog holes and breaking a leg, etc. -- his character is unnecessary, as well as historically inaccurate. By and large, cattle rustlers stole mavericks and calves from the open range, not an entire herd on the move. Yes, I understand that he saw his opportunity to take this herd from Wayne and the boys; that's one of the reasons I call the movie contrived.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The King's Speech
Suzanne: Why are all the good dramas coming out of the U.K.? We do great action/adventure, but for straight drama, the U.K. has it over us.
First and foremost, it is important to remember that this is a drama, not a documentary. I'm quite certain that liberties have been taken with history in the name of "dramatic license," and perhaps some of them were unnecessary. I don't know enough about the history of the Royal Family to say, but I do know enough not to think that this movie has provided me with that knowledge.
As a drama, however, this is stellar. The performances are uniformly excellent. Colin Firth fully conveys the anguish, shame, and humiliation of the individual forced into a public role for which he is ill-prepared; only a few minutes into the film, I was tense with fear for him and willing him to speak.
Geoffrey Rush is the compassionate, caring, loyal, trustworthy friend we all wish we had and wish that we could be. Helena Bonham Carter is her usual regal self, but I do wish she would stop with the "mad eye rolling;" it was too Mrs. Lovett. The supporting players do just that -- provide the strong support needed for the stars to shine.
The time and place are beautifully and faithfully recreated. Clothing, hairstyles, and attitudes are work together to transport the viewers back in time to a specific era.
However, I do have a few criticisms of certain decisions by the director. While it's quite true that forcing a left-handed child to use the right hand can and does lead to speech defects and other maladies, it is not necessarily true that a person who speech defects suffered an emotionally abusive childhood. The historical record does not suggest that such was the case, and I have to wonder at the motives of the film makers in making this such a focus of the film. While absolute historical accuracy is not required of historical fiction, deliberately distorting the truth about real people is hard to justify, particularly when that distortion promotes a damaging misunderstanding about a human disability.
And now, over to Mike.
Mike: Any film dealing with the British royal family is automatically deeply distressing and repugnant to me. They are scum and they know it. This is a fairy story in many ways because we are asked to accept Colin Firth as King George VI but then since we live in an age of high fantasy and escapism exemplified by the string of Harry Potter inanities I'll go along with it, reluctantly. It's actually rather good because after a while it ceases to be about the royals, in a sense, and becomes a poignant film about perseverance and courage and, sigh, belief. Just the sort of 'empowering' antidote needed at the movies these days. The stand out performance is Geoffrey Rush's, hands down. The rest of the cast, particularly Firth, are veddy veddy good in that stiff upper lip British way. Helena Bonham Carter puts some real feeling and humanity into her role, even if she is asked to play a bloodless reptile. Oh, and a big thanks to Mr Rush. At last, a depiction of a genuine, decent Australian who is not Steve Irwin, or Paul Hogan or any other stereotype you can dream up regarding Australians.
First and foremost, it is important to remember that this is a drama, not a documentary. I'm quite certain that liberties have been taken with history in the name of "dramatic license," and perhaps some of them were unnecessary. I don't know enough about the history of the Royal Family to say, but I do know enough not to think that this movie has provided me with that knowledge.
As a drama, however, this is stellar. The performances are uniformly excellent. Colin Firth fully conveys the anguish, shame, and humiliation of the individual forced into a public role for which he is ill-prepared; only a few minutes into the film, I was tense with fear for him and willing him to speak.
Geoffrey Rush is the compassionate, caring, loyal, trustworthy friend we all wish we had and wish that we could be. Helena Bonham Carter is her usual regal self, but I do wish she would stop with the "mad eye rolling;" it was too Mrs. Lovett. The supporting players do just that -- provide the strong support needed for the stars to shine.
The time and place are beautifully and faithfully recreated. Clothing, hairstyles, and attitudes are work together to transport the viewers back in time to a specific era.
However, I do have a few criticisms of certain decisions by the director. While it's quite true that forcing a left-handed child to use the right hand can and does lead to speech defects and other maladies, it is not necessarily true that a person who speech defects suffered an emotionally abusive childhood. The historical record does not suggest that such was the case, and I have to wonder at the motives of the film makers in making this such a focus of the film. While absolute historical accuracy is not required of historical fiction, deliberately distorting the truth about real people is hard to justify, particularly when that distortion promotes a damaging misunderstanding about a human disability.
And now, over to Mike.
Mike: Any film dealing with the British royal family is automatically deeply distressing and repugnant to me. They are scum and they know it. This is a fairy story in many ways because we are asked to accept Colin Firth as King George VI but then since we live in an age of high fantasy and escapism exemplified by the string of Harry Potter inanities I'll go along with it, reluctantly. It's actually rather good because after a while it ceases to be about the royals, in a sense, and becomes a poignant film about perseverance and courage and, sigh, belief. Just the sort of 'empowering' antidote needed at the movies these days. The stand out performance is Geoffrey Rush's, hands down. The rest of the cast, particularly Firth, are veddy veddy good in that stiff upper lip British way. Helena Bonham Carter puts some real feeling and humanity into her role, even if she is asked to play a bloodless reptile. Oh, and a big thanks to Mr Rush. At last, a depiction of a genuine, decent Australian who is not Steve Irwin, or Paul Hogan or any other stereotype you can dream up regarding Australians.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
True Grit
Mike: Yes, Mr Wayne. You were our first Rooster Cogburn and we will always love and respect you for that. We saw you again as Rooster in 1975 when you were teamed with Miss Hepburn in what was essentially a western remake of The African Queen but..I'm sorry..can I say this without being scalped? Jeff Bridges does a better interpretation of ol' Rooster. You had mighty big boots to step into, Mr Wayne, we all know that. Mr Jeff Bridges has slipped very comfortably into them, so let's all touch our cowboy hats' brims in respect. The Coen brothers version of Charles Portis' novel is truer to the pages than the '69 film, allegedly. I can't say for sure, as I have not read that book, however what we see in this version is a sturdily put together entertainment. Hallie Steinfeld as Matty gives a remarkably assured performance, Matt Damon seems a better bet than Glen Campbell, even Josh Brolin shows evidence of a talent that had hitherto gone unnoticed by me. It's filmed attractively in Texas, we can be thankful for that fidelity to the genre and that it wasn't lensed in Hungary or Romania or...shudder...Canada, and it seems to me a worthy addition to the canon. In fact..I think the two films would make an attractive double feature. Hmm. On to Netflix.
Suzanne: I haven't read the book since 1969, so I can't say, either, whether this version is truer, but I do remember that I was disappointed that the 1969 movie was not more faithful. I picked the book up at the library yesterday, so I'll let you what the major differences are. In any case, the Coen's have made a new movie based on the book, not a remake of the 1969 film. Although we probably can't help but compare the two films, we shouldn't. The 1969 film was a John Wayne vehicle, pure and simple. This movie follows the book in making Mattie Ross the center point around which the film revolves.
My thought at the end of the film was that the Coen's had found a novel which is perfectly suited to their filmmaking style. It has an abundance of gritty (pun intended), quirky, complex characters, dark humor, casual violence, and a complicated, twisty plot. Jeff Bridges is probably as close as we'll get to the reality of a 19th-century American Western lawman/bounty hunter. I could almost smell him. Matt Damon is perfectly adequate as LeBoeuf, although I missed any hint of a Texas accent and he seemed much too clean. I did appreciate his Wild West Cowboy costume, complete with foot-long fringe and oversized gunbelt. It perfectly expresses his naive, untested character at the beginning of the film and is a strong contrast with Bridges'.
Hailee Steinfeld was excellent, and, at 14 herself, more suited to the role than the 20-year old Kim Darby, but I can't help but feel that Darby was more faithful to the book. Although she does give a subtle performance, Steinfeld projects too much emotion -- the trembling lip, the wide eyes. The novel explores the difference between bravery as a result of naivette and ignorance, faux grit, if you will, and bravery as a result of, well, true grit. Mattie knows no fear initially because she is stubborn and naive and unaware of the possible real consequences of her actions. She does not admit to any need for fear in the beginning. Both she and LeBoeuf inhabit the glorious myth of the West of the dime novel, and uncounted movies today. Mattie is a hero worshipper, and Cogburn is the hero she has chosen to worship.
Cogburn, on the other hand, has moved to the opposite extreme, and defines himself and the world in solely negative terms. He is living that other myth of the West, the one of violence and blood and extreme individualism. Ultimately, all of the protagonists move toward the middle, and an acceptance and acknowledgement of the complexity of life that integrates aspects of both myths.
Suzanne: I haven't read the book since 1969, so I can't say, either, whether this version is truer, but I do remember that I was disappointed that the 1969 movie was not more faithful. I picked the book up at the library yesterday, so I'll let you what the major differences are. In any case, the Coen's have made a new movie based on the book, not a remake of the 1969 film. Although we probably can't help but compare the two films, we shouldn't. The 1969 film was a John Wayne vehicle, pure and simple. This movie follows the book in making Mattie Ross the center point around which the film revolves.
My thought at the end of the film was that the Coen's had found a novel which is perfectly suited to their filmmaking style. It has an abundance of gritty (pun intended), quirky, complex characters, dark humor, casual violence, and a complicated, twisty plot. Jeff Bridges is probably as close as we'll get to the reality of a 19th-century American Western lawman/bounty hunter. I could almost smell him. Matt Damon is perfectly adequate as LeBoeuf, although I missed any hint of a Texas accent and he seemed much too clean. I did appreciate his Wild West Cowboy costume, complete with foot-long fringe and oversized gunbelt. It perfectly expresses his naive, untested character at the beginning of the film and is a strong contrast with Bridges'.
Hailee Steinfeld was excellent, and, at 14 herself, more suited to the role than the 20-year old Kim Darby, but I can't help but feel that Darby was more faithful to the book. Although she does give a subtle performance, Steinfeld projects too much emotion -- the trembling lip, the wide eyes. The novel explores the difference between bravery as a result of naivette and ignorance, faux grit, if you will, and bravery as a result of, well, true grit. Mattie knows no fear initially because she is stubborn and naive and unaware of the possible real consequences of her actions. She does not admit to any need for fear in the beginning. Both she and LeBoeuf inhabit the glorious myth of the West of the dime novel, and uncounted movies today. Mattie is a hero worshipper, and Cogburn is the hero she has chosen to worship.
Cogburn, on the other hand, has moved to the opposite extreme, and defines himself and the world in solely negative terms. He is living that other myth of the West, the one of violence and blood and extreme individualism. Ultimately, all of the protagonists move toward the middle, and an acceptance and acknowledgement of the complexity of life that integrates aspects of both myths.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Eiger Sanction
Mike:
It's a curious thing, coming to this movie for the first time. I guess I overlooked it back in 1975, though that, I realise now, was a grave mistake. As an appreciator of really bad movies I can say with pleasure that The Eiger Sanction, starring Mr Clint Eastwood, is a jaw dropping showcase of every imaginable cliche with a cartload of stunningly misogynist sexist claptrap thrown in for good measure. A reeking, wobbling cartload of manure at that. Watching it now, in 2011, is to experience time travel in a very real but jolting way as if there is some serious malfunction with the machine itself. Oh God. What if its problems are irreversible and I end up stranded in this Jurassic time period? Or maybe I should just chill with it and go along with the unrivalled guilty pleasures it may offer. Trouble is there are not too many of them to be had. I couldn't figure out why it was necessary to climb the bloody Eiger in the first place, nor did I care what happened to anybody climbing it and you know that whatever perils befall Clint won't harm him really. It's not particularly thrilling, it has toe curlingly bad dialogue (things have not changed, you've only got to rent Gran Torino for proof of that) and it has the sad spectacle of Mr Jack Cassidy in a supporting role that really has to be seen to be believed, but even THEN! Oh, and we are asked to believe that Clint is a college professor...that's messing with our minds and it's sick.
Didn't Sly Stallone make something similarly mindless co starring the wonderful Janine Turner from the late lamented Northern Exposure?
Suzanne:
I'm having difficulty thinking of anything to add to that, Mike, unless it is to continue the listing of faults. I wonder if the movie was intended to be the first in a long series with Eastwood as a sort of James Bond character? If so, we can only be grateful that the box office spoke so loudly.
It is, of course, sexist in a thoroughly 1970s fashion, as well as homophobic, but let's not cannot forget the tokenism as well. These movie makers got two for one in the minority/women's lib department, with a black and a Native American female, both of whom engage in non-traditional female careers. Of course, that doesn't prevent them from melting at the sight of a "real man." All of the men, as I recall, are white, by the way.
Tellingly, the Native American female utters not a single word; she is literally, as well as figuratively, silenced. What are we to make of the fact that her name is "George?" Are we to smile at the naivete of the Native American who doesn't know which names are for women and which for men? Or is she meant to represent all of "her" people, a two-for-one? That theory is hard to reconcile with the fact that we are to believe that George Kennedy is her father.
And speaking of George Kennedy -- his character is as much a parody as Jack Cassidy's. Two sides of the same coin, as it were.
As for the identity of the second "sanction" -- that was obvious as soon as he appeared. I didn't know how or why, but I know who it had to be simply because of the formula on which this movie was based.
Possibly Sly made such a movie. I can't begin to list the number of movies made during that time period that featured 1)disaffected hit men; 2)disaffected government agents; 3)mountain climbing or similar edgy sport, complete with jargon and shots of specialized equipment. Politic commentary married with vicarious thrills.
It's a curious thing, coming to this movie for the first time. I guess I overlooked it back in 1975, though that, I realise now, was a grave mistake. As an appreciator of really bad movies I can say with pleasure that The Eiger Sanction, starring Mr Clint Eastwood, is a jaw dropping showcase of every imaginable cliche with a cartload of stunningly misogynist sexist claptrap thrown in for good measure. A reeking, wobbling cartload of manure at that. Watching it now, in 2011, is to experience time travel in a very real but jolting way as if there is some serious malfunction with the machine itself. Oh God. What if its problems are irreversible and I end up stranded in this Jurassic time period? Or maybe I should just chill with it and go along with the unrivalled guilty pleasures it may offer. Trouble is there are not too many of them to be had. I couldn't figure out why it was necessary to climb the bloody Eiger in the first place, nor did I care what happened to anybody climbing it and you know that whatever perils befall Clint won't harm him really. It's not particularly thrilling, it has toe curlingly bad dialogue (things have not changed, you've only got to rent Gran Torino for proof of that) and it has the sad spectacle of Mr Jack Cassidy in a supporting role that really has to be seen to be believed, but even THEN! Oh, and we are asked to believe that Clint is a college professor...that's messing with our minds and it's sick.
Didn't Sly Stallone make something similarly mindless co starring the wonderful Janine Turner from the late lamented Northern Exposure?
Suzanne:
I'm having difficulty thinking of anything to add to that, Mike, unless it is to continue the listing of faults. I wonder if the movie was intended to be the first in a long series with Eastwood as a sort of James Bond character? If so, we can only be grateful that the box office spoke so loudly.
It is, of course, sexist in a thoroughly 1970s fashion, as well as homophobic, but let's not cannot forget the tokenism as well. These movie makers got two for one in the minority/women's lib department, with a black and a Native American female, both of whom engage in non-traditional female careers. Of course, that doesn't prevent them from melting at the sight of a "real man." All of the men, as I recall, are white, by the way.
Tellingly, the Native American female utters not a single word; she is literally, as well as figuratively, silenced. What are we to make of the fact that her name is "George?" Are we to smile at the naivete of the Native American who doesn't know which names are for women and which for men? Or is she meant to represent all of "her" people, a two-for-one? That theory is hard to reconcile with the fact that we are to believe that George Kennedy is her father.
And speaking of George Kennedy -- his character is as much a parody as Jack Cassidy's. Two sides of the same coin, as it were.
As for the identity of the second "sanction" -- that was obvious as soon as he appeared. I didn't know how or why, but I know who it had to be simply because of the formula on which this movie was based.
Possibly Sly made such a movie. I can't begin to list the number of movies made during that time period that featured 1)disaffected hit men; 2)disaffected government agents; 3)mountain climbing or similar edgy sport, complete with jargon and shots of specialized equipment. Politic commentary married with vicarious thrills.
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