Reviews: Harry Nilsson/King's Speech/True Grit

I have no doubt about the finest film I saw last year this past year: hands down, it was Winter's Bone. I've heard people carp about how "accurate" it was, especially people who felt it portrayed their part of the world unflatteringly. I don't know -- there's plenty of areas like that, even here in upstate New York. And if "accuracy" is going to be some kind of gauge for best picture of the year, there's an awful lot of statues to be handed back. All the trailers I saw before True Grit today claimed to be "based on a true story" which always makes me groan. The truth is no basis for a story: too messy. But let me save that rant for another time.

Who is Harry Nilsson? (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him) offers an insightful look at the brilliant singer songwriter and his life. The film benefits from the ailing Nilsson's decision to try to record a kind of autobiography, the found tapes proving a real treasure trove of commentary that makes the late singer a very vivid part of the film. It helps too that his family including his third wife, Una, with whom he had six children and seemed to be as happy as he found possible, were also cooperating. The tragedy of course is that someone so talented was also so troubled. Paul Williams' description of Nilsson as a great big bunny with real sharp teeth captures that succinctly. He had many hits, collaborated with the Beatles and the Pythons, but wasn't able to shake the ghosts that haunted him, from the father who abandoned him to the friends near to him who died like Keith Moon and John Lennon. As a bonus there are so many extras, too -- as if they couldn't bear to part with any of the footage shot, including Eric Idle's tribute song. They talk to all kinds of people who worked with him from Richard Perry to Van Dyke Parks and with his wives and kids. Excellent: I highly recommend it.

The King's Speech has already received laurels a-plenty which has a lot to do with its cast: they are indeed splendid, including many fine actors in tiny roles who get a couple of lines each (like Claire Bloom, alas). Like so many films now, the background is left enigmatic (well, you know the history, fill in the details yourself, I guess) and only the central actors received development. That really only means Rush and Firth: Helena Bonham Carter is reduced to appearing with corgis and going "there, there" on occasion (AKA a MWW masquerading as a MW1W). The direction is bizarre at times, especially in the first half hour, with angles that take you out of the narrative wondering where on earth the camera is supposed to be. Worse, in the set-up scene between the Prince-soon-to-be-King and the Aussie therapist, the camera work is so bad as to make it look like they're both gazing off into space rather than talking to each other. What really makes the film fall flat is the overwrought ambiance, from the overplayed music to the mountain-out-of-a-molehill plot. Yes, as someone once crippled by the thought of public speaking and who overcame it, I know what a trial it can be for people, but to have someone who treated men just back from Gallipoli call the pampered royal "the bravest man I've ever known" (as do half the people in the film) is just ridiculous hyperbole. If you love Firth, you'll still enjoy it, I guess.

True Grit is like a truly satisfying meal when you're really really hungry. The Coens have a great team of people (apparently Matt Damon has his own whole team, too, according to the credits) from Carter Burwell's musicians to Roger Deakins' seemingly flawless eye. You know Jeff Bridges is going to be good, and yeah, I'll admit it though it burns me a bit, that Matt Damon can be truly skillful when he wants to be. There's a whole host of grizzled frontiersmen, too: Peg and I were joking after the film that they must have put out a call for the ugliest character actors with the tag, "Must have abundant facial hair."

The real star is Hailie Steinfeld. Like Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone, here's a young woman who more than capably carries the film flanked by powerhouse actors who might easily intimidate many a seasoned performer. From the get-go Steinfeld strides into town and into the part with all the certainty of the true believer that she is. You believe her, the grudging respect she wins from the men and when her faith falters, you see that she is a child yet and so very young. It's incredible work. For the Coens, this is a bit different from a lot of their work because there's not that distance that allows ironic humor (we have to be able to laugh at Barton Fink's sufferings because they would be too harrowing; A Serious Man walks that razor's edge with dizzying grace). It's a straight-forward adventure. Don't get me wrong; there's humor, but as in Shakespeare's dramas, it's there to give you a breather from the tension. Well done: go see it.

Review: The Social Network

Why not spend a couple of hours with really unpleasant people? No? Well, I did so you don't have to do so. Yes, intrepid movie pal Peg and I headed over to the Spectrum, fortified by a good lunch at the Fountain. As many of you know, I am a happy user of "The Facebook" and have written about it once or twice -- or maybe a lot. So I had to see if for professional reasons.

Sigh.

There are all kinds of problems with this film; I'll get to a few of them in a moment, but let me start with the most irksome because it's a problem bigger than this picture. Sorkin's screenplay paints Zuckerberg as a pathetic misogynist whose empire is based on rejection by one woman. No, I don't have a problem with that portrayal, it looks to jibe with the facts as known. It rings a little hollow, however, coming from the same misogynist Hollywood system that cannot conceive of women as anything but sexual trophies or emotional security blankets. This is film is yet another example of the dread Movie Without Women.

Yeah, there are female actors in the film, but not a one is a character. They're just props: one to make him angry, others as trophies to demonstrate success, one to cross examine him, one to offer an emotional pat on the head. There's even a "crazy girlfriend out of left field" to ramp up the tension pointlessly -- and then immediately abandoned.

The opening scene is painful -- as intended. We need to see what a schmuck Zuckerberg is and Jesse Eisenberg makes him completely unsympathetic (while looking like Michael Cera's older cousin). But it creates problems for an audience looking for someone to connect with -- and will look in vain. The nearest we come is Andrew Garfield's Eduardo Saverin, but he becomes a character far too late in the film. Attempts to set up the Winklevoss twins as the opposition fail, too; Syracuse-grad Sorkin's loathing for the privileged Harvard elite is palpable, but ineffective (and I've dealt with the Harvard snootiness on a first hand basis while working there).

It's only with the arrival of Justin Timberlake as Napster creator Sean Parker that the film sparks a little. I admit to having never thought much of Timberlake until his stellar turn on SNL, but he did a lot with a part that was not up to much. A very flawed character, he's nonetheless compelling to watch -- and that's what's missing with Zuckerberg's character. Perhaps it's a flaw of the original model, but this ain't a documentary.

The screenplay is the biggest problem: in addition to the above problems, it also attempts to juggle two lawsuits with the unfolding historical narrative. The lawsuits however are not equal in importance, but set up as if they are. The whole Winklevoss storyline seems to focus primarily on sneering at the old money wealth and privilege (while nonetheless glamorizing it). And so clunky! As soon as Larry Summer's admin talks to the twins about how old the building is and how they need to be careful, you just count the minutes until they break something. Later, when Zuckerberg uncharacteristically asks Eduardo how his girlfriend is and he says she's acting crazy and scaring him, you count the minutes until -- shock! -- she's acting crazy for the first time.

They seem to be using Wall Street greed as a model, when that's not what this story is about; they do realise that Zuckerberg is not motivated by money, but it's clear that while they know what Facebook looks like and they know what the trajectory of the network is -- there's a pointless "dramatic" interweaving of coding at one point as if it were somehow like explaining the Dow Jones ticker -- it's clear none of the key people involved in the film have used Facebook or social media or have the slightest understanding of its significance.

I suppose this is no different than most Hollywood attempts to capitalize on a popular phenomenon. But their contempt for the public and the fact that money seems to be their only motivation blinds them to what's really going on.

To get the taste of this out of our mouths, we headed off to the Filament fest at EMPAC. Oh, how I love this space! But it will get a separate review to avoid the taint of this film. Random words to intrigue you: crows, giant panda, R. Buckminster Fuller, nations, installations, performance, studios, cheese. Intrigued? :-)

Review: The Wolfman

I had planned to write this yesterday until sidetracked by other news. I managed to catch the first matinee at the Spectrum (oh, how lucky to have the Spectrum!) and had a small crowd with which to see it, as it's not the usual fare of that venue.

The short review: it was fun! I enjoyed it immensely and not always ironically ;-)

The filmmakers really tried to capture the Universal monsters feel albeit with swanky CGI, speedy camera movement and a whole lot of gore. There was so much digital fidgeting that the settings looked as fake as an Universal set. You would think that in a film with an historical consultant (and a tarot consultant, Shakespeare consultant [really want to see del Toro's Hamlet!] and Siekh consultant) someone would have mentioned that you don't blow out oil lamps, but simply turn the wick down. Facts -- phht!

The cast was excellent; I think the director's charge to Benicio del Toro was simply, "Okay, now SMOULDER!" He was very subdued at the start, as was Anthony Hopkins throughout. Yes, I know, you were expecting scenery chewing, but Sir Tony really kept his cool. Never raised his heart rate ;-) And I think they were surprisingly clever and insightful as they developed the answers to the "del Toro is Hopkins' son?" question quite admirably.

Of course it's always surprising for a young man to find that his brother was about to marry Queen Victoria; poor Emily Blunt was "the Girl" or more precisely for this film, "the sexual enticement" because that's what The Wolfman is all about. In the usual oversimplification of the past that inevitably happens in films, the Victorian-era sexuality repressed becomes lycanthropy (I love when Blunt pages through the coincidentally handy Big Book of Weird with a serious expression, researching lycanthropy).

Yes, it's another Movie with 1 Woman: this film is all about dangerous masculinity on the loose. Sure Geraldine Chaplin takes over the gypsy crone role made famous by Maria Ouspenskaya with more make-up and less panache, but she's just there to supply facts -- as is the pub owner's wife. No, it's all about the sexual temptation. There's a great scene where del Toro breaks out in sweat just glancing the little bit of skin that peeks out from Blunt's collar.

Unbridled masculinity -- it's a monster!

Think about it -- when the wolfman changes, he gets all hairy and things...grow. He sprouts long hard nails, he loses all reason and gets all violent. It's Super Bowl Sunday all over again.

There's a whole Englishing to the script that's meant to heighten the sense of emotional and sexual repression, but it's so self-conscious and over the top that you practically expect the Inspector to greet the first killing scene with "Here's a howdy-do!" I did laugh out loud when they said his name (yes, I was the only one to do so) but it was a nice link, though they could have done a little more with it. Ditto the silver cane. I loved that they started with the rhyme as a headstone; fun. Loved the London scenes, especially the Wolfman astride the griffin, howling.

That's all I can do in a spoiler-free review; more to say when some of you have seen it, which I do recommend.