CriticSociety- film reviews

Review

The Heiress

Director

William Wyler

Year

1949

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Money makes the world go ‘round, the world go ‘round, the world go ‘round… If you doubt it, just check out the luck of Catherine Sloper, the ugliest character Olivia de Havilland ever played, who, not having enough with her undesirable looks, was also dull and plain… but rich-to-be. Her wealthy father, widower Dr. Austin Sloper, still so in love with her graceful and enchanting late wife, can’t believe how opposite their daughter is to her, and really can’t see why, and he can’t believe in the possibility that someone will want her for anything different than her money. To an extent, he’s right.

Conflict comes when Morris Townsend declares himself head-over-heels in love with her overnight. It wouldn’t be so hard to believe if he wasn’t the handsomest bachelor in town, played by one of the handsomest actors in Hollywood: then newcomer Montgomery Clift, who also happens to clearly be an opportunistic, completely penniless and with a shabby résumé and no professional aspirations, but who gives Catherine joy by making her feel attractive and interesting for the first time in her life, since the greatest reason why she’s everything but that is probably that her father never believed in her, and propitiated an accentuation of her graceless existence.

The Doctor, outstandingly played by Ralph Richardson, who really only has his daughter’s best interests in mind, strongly opposes to the marriage, and let me say no more except this is a perfect example of how a living room drama can transcend not only the living room walls but entire frontiers and even the whole world to become a great tragedy which would still be seen as “rather irrelevant” by the neighbors.

The strength of the conflict is embodied by the words spoken by every character when forced to confrontation, the most brilliant of these segments being the one where the father ambushes the fiancé, neither ever betraying manners or education but still spitting fire with every word and attitude, the daughter then terrifyingly trying to put out the fire little realizing that two deeply wounded men are leaving the room. Astonishing.

The story comes from the Henry James novel “Washington Square” about the well-to-do family of two facing opportunism in nineteen century New York. It later became a play by Augustus Goetz and Ruth Goetz, who also worked together for the screenplay adaptation. Their work and the direction by William Wyler never trap us in a room but instead, as I said, make us see the conflict as universal and haunting beyond four walls.

Gorgeously photographed and designed, every frame is a treasure, with de Havilland’s unbelievably unflattering looks contrasting her surroundings and emphasizing her situation. Her character’s evolution, however, is what makes this piece work. This is not the kind of ugly duckling tale of an unappealing girl who later becomes unbelievably pretty, making everyone who didn’t see her like this before regret their sins. Instead, her transformation is from naïve to tough, from innocent to spoiled, from weak to strong, from vulnerable to unbreakable, and she handles it with mesmerizing talent, making this one of her greatest performances.

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Review

Mommie Dearest

Director

Frank Perry

Year

1981

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

I have always been rather traumatized by the idea that Faye Dunaway’s career was ruined because of her role in Mommie Dearest. It’s quite understandable, in a way. Mercilessly portraying one of Hollywood’s biggest icons as a total witch is hard to swallow in the industry, and basing that portrayal in a controversial account that’s been discredited by quite a few is even worse.

Joan Crawford wasn’t exactly Hollywood’s best or most successful actress, but she certainly was one of its biggest and best-loved stars, with a long and painful career showcasing many memorable roles though not often in classic films.

Quite unfortunately, much of her fame came after her death, with the tell-all book by her adopted daughter Christina Crawford portraying her as a bipolar, alcoholic, abusive mother whose cruelty far surpassed her star. Christina was severely panned and contradicted but her book made it to the top thanks to morbid thirst and innocent curiosity. In time, Christina worked so hard to defend children’s rights that it’s quite clear there’s much truth in what she said. At the end of the day, it’s hard to judge someone based on their psychological afflictions, which may completely differ from his or her best intentions. Struggling to avoid bias based on the book, it’s still possible to both admire that unique actress and abhor her behavior at home. We probably should have never known about that, but since we do, we must be able to handle it.

The industry couldn’t handle it when Faye Dunaway played Joan Crawford in a movie that did not at all look for other points of view but based its script completely on Christina’s book. Dunaway was immediately and almost universally trashed and her career went downhill from there. What justice is there to it? In truth, not much. Her performance is in actuality, and I’m glad to see that many critics now acknowledge it, brilliant. So was it just the factor that many were mad at her bitter portrayal of the once Hollywood sweetheart? Yes, in part, but that wasn’t all: the film went over-the-top in its horrific portrait of the star, making it somewhat comedic for those who were not completely involved in the drama; and at being one of the main over-the-top elements, Faye was far from taken seriously.

Audiences were probably confused. Those who were drawn into the horror on the screen probably didn’t get it when others around were laughing, but after a few laughs they probably did get it. Of course it’s been many years since, but I hear people now calling it one of the best involuntary comedies. Heck, I cried in a scene where Faye abuses her child in the middle of the night… and it turns out that scene, the infamous wire hangers scene, is called hysterical by those people.

I can’t blame them, it’s a reaction that became collective, went too far, and destroyed what probably could have been. Then, the studio marketed it as camp to make some profit, who can blame them. I can’t be in on the joke, but I get it.

I wish people could take a serious look at this and tell me if it’s not an effective drama. Joan is a conflictive, conflicted character all along, whose complexity is palpable thanks in great part to Faye Dunaway’s astonishing portrayal. The daughter is not just a victim or a martyr but a human being who achieves premature maturity given horrific circumstances that no one should have to live through. The actresses playing the daughter, Mara Hobel and Diana Scarwid, are extraordinary, the latter even underplaying in favor of the mother.

The production is quite serious and first-rate, with appropriate ambiance and photography and an effective music score by Henry Mancini. And there’s perfect irony when one of the best actresses in the industry attempts to play a self-destructive actress, once one of the best in the industry as well, and self-destroys in the process. I’m just not willing to laugh about it.

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Review

Death Race

Director

Paul W.S. Anderson

Year

2008

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Having yet to watch Death Race 3000 I can see what the fun is all about based on its remake, 2008’s Death Race starring Jason Statham and Joan Allen. I’m not sure how far Statham has gone financially speaking as an action man but he proves here that he’s got what it takes. He reprises the role of David Carradine in the 1970s original, while the one played by Sylvester Stallone is remade by Tyrese Gibson. This guy is called Machine Gun Joe Mason, while Statham’s character is nicknamed Frankenstein for most of the film. Their races are transmitted on the Internet and presented like a video game. The character names and car designs match the feeling. So does the action, just like a videogame’s. Minus the excitement of gameplay.

The story is quite clever: in the near future, big corporations take over prisons since the government is unable to handle them given their overpopulation caused by crime increase as a consequence of economic downfall. The companies that now handle the jails think about ways to do business and make the prisoners fight to death, which is not quite enough, and so death race is born.

A legendary racer whose face is allegedly so disfigured he has to wear a mask—and is nicknamed Frankenstein—dies in the first scene of the film and is soon replaced by another great racer, who’s framed, The Fugitive-like, to make it look like he killed his wife. The prison warden, Hennessey (Joan Allen), offers him the opportunity to replace Frankenstein to make it appear like he didn’t die, in exchange for his freedom.

It’s all cliché and pretty contrived at that but it works as a premise. Too bad there’s not much meat in the process. Even though Statham’s character, Jensen Ames, is quite aware that he was framed and kind of looking for revenge, it’s all easily absorbed by the action sequences of the races. These are, as I said, videogame-like, which isn’t a bad thing, except it is because the characters are as artificial as the racers of a race car videogame. It’s almost like we don’t even get to see their faces, just the cars they’re racing, and though this is not the case, it feels like it, because we couldn’t care less.

The only two or three characters that we more or less care about (including a mechanic nicknamed Coach, played by Ian McShane) have all but their fate tattooed to their foreheads, and it plays by the book, paint-by-numbers, so we rely on the action to care a bit, but it’s just not exciting after a while, but in fact quite tiresome.

Statham delivers the goods. He’s tough but he’s also somewhat touching. I think he’s got a Hollywood future. He has good enough interaction with Joan Allen who probably got the biggest paycheck for this and indeed has the most interesting character. As for Statham and costar Natalie Martinez, there’s not much sizzle there, leaving us to appreciate her good looks, which are in fact pretty good, but the lack of chemistry is the script’s fault. It’s just too goddamned focused on the action and it’s all so synthetic it turns completely irrelevant soon enough. Hand me a joystick instead.

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Review

Quantum of Solace

Director

Marc Forster

Year

2008

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

I was naïve enough to think that what they did with Casino Royale (2006) meant a realization that a “Bond Film” is a subjective concept but that a film is a film and if it’s not entertaining it’s worthless, and that there’s no worse entertainment value than that emerging from the preconception that the average audience will be mindless enough to not mind futility and brainlessness. Silly me! Casino Royale was a unique achievement that miraculously departed from the cardboard Bond to make the character real, give him some drama, put him in tense situations that didn’t necessarily involve tons of hi-tech gadgets and essentially go back to what Bond as conceived by Ian Fleming really was, instead of what he became in the hands of Albert R. Broccoli (with notable exceptions).

Wait a tick, do my eyes not deceive me? Was this directed by Marc Forster? I gave this guy some credit, his movies had been wonderful, so is it all about the money this time? Not to blame him, but why didn’t he get to influence anybody about the material? Isn’t it obvious that there’s no drama here and that there are people for action films and that the output is more or less the same every time? What did they need Forster for? Why am I asking so many questions in one paragraph?

Perhaps because that’s more or less the feeling this film gave me. A big, black WHY. Why did they mock us, why didn’t they allow us to continue caring for Bond, why did they underestimate us again. Why, if Casino Royale was such a big hit, and so highly lauded, did they do this to its follower. I cannot explain it. They just took the easy way, and there’s no stopping my despising them for it.

So, the only “real” thing about Bond is that he actually gets his hair messy and his face bloody after an incredible shootout or an amazing fistfight. Other than that, we’re supposed to believe that he’s so enraged by the death of his former beloved that he’s gonna lose all sense of what’s what. Casino Royale so nicely tied that story that reopening it and making 007 lose all his senses just doesn’t work, especially when he betrays his most basic codes of professionalism for it. It’s like watching a wild child causing mayhem as a result of magic giving him a few days in Bond’s body, complete with the guy’s abilities. We just can’t believe that he’s willing to lose his job and his life for such a senseless revenge. At least I know I can’t.

But if we were to believe that, then it would be hard to swallow that he sort of continues in the line of duty as he discovers that those he hates so much are also responsible for quite an evil scheme which, mind me, sounds more in the vein of Dr. Evil, but never mind that. We know that a secret agent gone wild is rather hard to stop, but that only means he must be killed, and the MI6 can’t do either. When they try to stop him, he knocks them out easy, and then plays hide and seek like an old screwball film from the ‘30s, which by the way I wished I was watching instead of this nonsense.

So it goes down to it being a Bond Film, does it? If only! I mean, a cardboard Bond Film has gorgeous chicks, lots of sex, awesome gimmicks and sense of humor to knock you out. None of that’s here, except perhaps the girls, but not much sex, which pretty much wastes the girls (from a Bond Film point of view), despite their good looks. No humor, no gimmicks, no nothing…

Makes you think they just took an action script that was gathering dust, changed the protagonist’s name to James Bond, and voilà! So it goes even lower as we try to get the goods at least from who’s in the movie, and sure, Daniel Craig is still one of the greatest James Bonds ever, and Judi Dench is serviceable as usual as M, but don’t expect much from Olga Kurylenko as the Bond Girl or Mathieu Amalric as the villain, ‘cause they have really not a thing to do. Except be victims of this farce as much as we.

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Review

Supergirl

Director

Jeannot Szwarc

Year

1984

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Saturday, November 15, 2008

You’ve seen some camp and then this. I remembered it gladly, it was one of my sister’s favorites when we were kids, and I watched it gladly of course back then, it was a girly movie perhaps but at least the girl was dressed like Superman, and she was pretty hot, which even as a little boy I could appreciate, at least aesthetically I suppose, and then there was the drama, I remembered the scene where Supergirl tried to crush a rock with her bare hands, an easy feat earlier in the movie, only to find it impossible and getting her hand all bloody—my sis couldn’t hold back the tears and it moved me. My dad was crazy about the film… Obviously he had very little appreciation for its story and lots for Helen Slater’s legs, which I can now clearly see.

It was part nostalgia and part desire to watch those legs to their full DVD splendor, now that I would fully appreciate them, which brought me to buy this thing when I bumped into it. I thought it was probably my only opportunity of getting it, and it wasn’t that expensive. Well, well… holy crap, Batman! It stinks. I can’t believe my dad was willing to watch this more than once, there’s not enough Slater legs time to make up for the constant dull moments. Always a dull moment, you could say. So bad it’s good, it could be argued, but it’s not even that… There are probably three good things about the flick: Helen Slater in her film debut, Jerry Goldsmith’s dynamic and sometimes funny score, and the scenes where Supergirl flies, particularly the first one. Other than that… ho-hum!

Superman’s cousin Kara is stuck with other Krypton survivors in an inexplicable place that’s energized by a tiny sphere which, regardless of the fact that everyone’s life depends on it, is not even guarded, anyone can just grab it, and so is the case of outstandingly irresponsible Zaltar (Peter O’Toole!), who steals the thing, and then just hands it to young and over-the-hill naïve Kara (Helen Slater), who goes on to lose it like a kid would, only more recklessly. Zaltar’s and Kara’s reactions are hilarious: he resigns to the fact that he’ll spend the rest of eternity in the phantom zone for what he caused, considering, quite poetically, those who will tortuously die for lack of energy luckier; and she climbs into a spherical one-passenger vehicle to chase the omegahedron (that’s the name of the orb!) much to the despair of her mom (Mia Farrow!) and dad, who don’t mind so much that she just killed them and threw away all opportunities of anyone responsible to go after the lost token, as the fact that at least she’ll be fine…

Never mind that everyone you know will die because of you, if you get a chance to ride a full-speed intergalactic vehicle just sit back, relax and enjoy the show! It’s something like the hyper speed ride in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) except totally irrelevant and uninteresting, and much shorter, thankfully. That she’s the dumbest Kryptonian ever born, however, doesn’t stop Kara from realizing all her powers as soon as she arrives on Earth, including some that Superman has never discovered, such as the ability to automatically dress like a superhero before even setting foot on the ground, or morphing into a schoolgirl complete with uniform and a different hair color and style in a blink—who needs a phone booth when you can just walk behind a tree, so that the camera won’t see you change at light speed… a very quick eye and freeze frame might allow them to see you naked for just a teeny instant¬—Supergirl clearly also had the power to figure out high-quality freeze frame would come to home video no more than a decade and a half later.

Back to reality: shall we look for the omegahedron? Nah, there’ll be time for that, what’s the rush? Let’s better enroll in high school and have some fun! If there was any reason for this, maybe. The high school scenes would be totally unbearable if Helen Slater wasn’t absolutely lovely and rather plucky. But there’s just no point! One wishes the story would just pick up, but not to worry!, the omegahedron fell in just the wrong hands: those of Selena (Faye Dunaway!!!), a desperately incompetent would-be witch who has set her eyes on world domination and is just wondering how she’ll handle that when a baseball-sized shiny orb just drops on her lap, giving her the answer. She just knows this is the answer to her prayers so she dumps her boyfriend (Peter Cook!) and goes on to plan her evil schemes!!

So what are these evil machinations? One could think of a million things but Selena is more original than anyone else: she’ll bewitch a gardener she’s got the hots for to fall in love with her for one day. It goes all wrong and the guy falls for none other than Linda Lee, Supergirl’s alter ego! That’s just one of many coincidences: Peter Cook is also Linda’s teacher, Linda’s new best pal and roommate is Lois Lane’s kid sister, who’s dating a true celebrity: Jimmy Olsen (Marc McClure, straight from the cast of Superman (1978)!)!

Only because Selena is such a nuisance when it comes to losing her gardener hunk to a superpowered girl does Supergirl decide to fight back and, once she’s at it, get back the omegahedron, but that in passing, and only if there’s no other choice, because who thinks of saving every goddamn person back home when there are such priorities as saving the gardener from “evil sex” with Selena, and of course discovering sex courtesy of the hunk who’s not really in love with her except for that spell Selena cast on him.

Really, Selena would’ve had no problem at all at dominating the world because, we’re informed early on, Superman is on hiatus, and Supergirl is just not interested, she only does something when utterly provoked, which Selena does all the time, driven by jealousy, which is not so implausible after all because, it’s been demonstrated, a jealous woman is capable of just anything in this world and Krypton too.

Even if Selena and Supergirl were playing games all throughout it wouldn’t be so bad, but the action is constantly stopped and the drama inexistent, and there’s something unimportant getting top priority at every turn. Only at the very end, during the third act, does it get somewhat interesting, as Supergirl finally gets a grip and realizes that she’s playing with fire and that she must do what she’s supposed to do, which she finally does, ending our suffering. One of the main reasons why we suffer, I must painfully say, is because of Faye Dunaway, one of the finest actresses in the world, and one of the highest praised the previous decade, who I really hope made an unbelievable amount of money to play the most ridiculous villainess I remember at the moment, not without talent, which makes it even sadder. No wonder she soon sank into oblivion, mostly…



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Review

The Constant Nymph

Director

Edmund Goulding

Year

1943

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Thursday, November 13, 2008

I had craved the long-lost The Constant Nymph for quite a while since I’m a huge Joan Fontaine fan, based on her performances in Rebecca (1940) mostly and Suspicion (1941) to a lesser extent, but had been unsuccessful because of a conflict in novel, play and film rights that complicate its distribution. It’s a great shame but luckily the Internet has provided the answer and I have finally been able to watch this little gem. I’ll be completely honest with you: I was more than curious and rather morbid about twenty-something Fontaine playing a 14-year-old girl in love with an older man, a sort of wicked fantasy I suppose, which earned her an Oscar nomination that originally led me to this film.

Margaret Kennedy’s novel and subsequent play by herself and Basil Dean was, I hear, rather explicit concerning infatuation and sexuality, with undertones of mature passion beyond physical attraction and deeper into intellectual connection and sensibility. The film, perhaps given Production Code standards, was adapted in a way that the latter, more profound connection, was emphasized, thus making the story much richer and less morbid though the very title and subject matter can’t avoid the sort of interest that, for instance, has made of Nabokov’s “Lolita” and its film adaptations irresistible for generations.

The title character, Tessa, is instead a tender and sweet girl who’s quite sure of her feelings and never carps about what life brings her despite the invariable impossibility to be with her loved one or to aspire for him to realize his feelings towards her. That’s the clue: she’s pretty sure that there’s a connection and not a one-sided feeling but she’s aware that he doesn’t realize it just as easily as her, who has always known. Given that, she has enough with the few moments when they connect through their sensibilities that are largely influenced by music.

A composer, Lewis Dodd finds in Tessa’s father and his many daughters a source of inspiration and sets to compose a symphony based on the family and particularly Tessa, with disastrous initial results. Eventually, Tessa continues her influence and both direct and indirect coaching. This particular connection is much more relevant and profound than the one Lewis establishes with his eventual wife, Tessa’s cousin Florence, who’s soon enough consumed by jealousy.

The two key performances are Fontaine’s as Tessa and Alexis Smith’s as Florence. Joan is right-on as a woman of young age with the cheer and spark of a little girl but the wisdom and self-awareness of an adult. The screen truly brightens when she appears and she really appears to be irresistible. Also quite irresistible but in a completely different way is Alex Smith, whose Florence is classy, elegant and composed but sadly unattached from her husband despite her best efforts. Charles Boyer is rather wooden as their object of affection, Lewis Dodd, but since the story is told from the point of view of the ladies, he’s really no much more than that, an object, despite the nuances that he’s given towards the memorable climax. Other notable performers include Peter Lorre, Dame May Whitty, Marcel Dalio and Charles Coburn.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold composed the film’s music, which was clearly a monumental task given the theme of the story where the music is everything to Tessa and Lewis, the latter actually composing and improving throughout the film a symphony that symbolizes the unique and extraordinary bond between the two. Korngold made it as unforgettable and touching as it should be, adding much impact and power to the denouement which is far from happy, but quite immortal and satisfying.

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Review

Burn After Reading

Director

Ethan Coen

Joel Coen

Year

2008

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Know what? Nonsense is not easily laid out or structured into a feature-length screenplay, but it’s not surprise that the Coen brothers pull it off and make it seem simple. It’s no lie either that even though some nonsense can’t hurt, a lot can kill you, and what we’ve got here is a tad on the limit, pushing the line a bit if I may say so, but coming off safe in the end, when no one’s really hurt, thankfully our intelligence least of all.

When a story brings you no nutrients, your natural reaction is to try and absorb whatever you’ve got to make it all worthwhile. Sometimes there’s nothing, or even if there is, it’s not enough to save a movie, but again, that’s not the case here. The story is funny if totally trivial, but as a plus it’s composed of killer dialogue and outstanding performances. That’s certainly something to chew on. Remembering Brad Pitt’s performance is even something for dessert. You’ll find yourself revisiting his memorable moments days after the viewing, and not many movies can do that, not even some of Pitt’s own.

The guy plays the idiot of the story but we just grow to find out he’s not the sole idiot, only the one who faces his reality with most frankness. Working at a gym, he participates in a great deception after he finds a CD containing what really seems to be “spy shit”. His partner in crime is Linda Litzke, whose name would bring her far if she wasn’t stuck as a physical fitness instructor with a body she totally dislikes, an obsession to get a full set of plastic surgeries to start anew, and a bad love history which only get worse after every blind date. Frances McDormand plays the woman in an amazing way: she doesn’t know how nuts or rather stupid she is thanks to her obsessions, and she’s so set on getting what she wants that she constantly endangers herself and those around her for pretty much nothing, a fine saleswoman she is by convincing more than one guy to follow her farfetched plans, which is another asset that she could channel in a positive way but she does not.

That’s the one side of the story. The other side stars John Malkovich in what frames the film hilariously as an FBI thriller, which is actually true in a way. Malkovich plays a decadent alcoholic who’s fired from his job and hated by his wife, who’s having an affair with a veteran agent who still carries a gun but has never used it, Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney). Pfarrer is as deeply unhappy as Osbourne Cox (Malkovich) but shies away from the fact by screwing every woman he encounters, never getting enough and in fact recurring to the same blind date service that the Frances McDormand character recurs to. You’ll probably guess that this second coincidence that ties the two groups (the first one being the “spy shit” which was actually a fragment of Cox’s contrived memoirs) will bring hysterical consequences, but you would never be able to predict of what kind. This is a totally unexpected comedy which sometimes gets so dark it’s not even funny, but when it’s not funny, at least it’s intriguing.

I could go on praising the performances (maybe as a result of my inability once more of finding enough meat in the story): Tilda Swinton is as good as ever as Mrs. Cox, and Richard Jenkins is heartbreaking as McDormand’s boss, to name a couple more. But the standout is Brad Pitt, so fresh and comfortable in the physically fit doofus that you can hardly remember he’s such a big deal in real life. This is one of his best performances.

That Carter Burwell’s music treats this as a serious piece is part of what makes the film so peculiar. It’s a Coen brothers’ film, which by definition should be given a look, ‘cause even their average is way above average. Maybe few will love it, but I don’t think anyone can dislike it.

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Review

Kissing Jessica Stein

Director

Charles Herman-Wurmfeld

Year

2001

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Saturday, November 08, 2008

I had imagined Kissing Jessica Stein as a man-hating lesbian movie, the sort that puts a pretty lady in the awkward situation of realizing she’s not cut for straight dating after a collage of real losers (of all sorts) attempting to conquer her and making incredible fools of themselves, only successful at making her laugh at them, not with them. I was right! That sequence, an incredible cliché, is in the movie, and then it sets off. I kept watching of course although I was more than skeptic by then, but the film somehow kept my interest. It didn’t seem to be only a man-hating lesbian movie. After a while, I realized it wasn’t that at all.

Jessica Stein is bored and disappointed, but that’s not uncommon among neurotic big-town (in this case, New York) young people who are “supposed” to follow a pattern and don’t necessarily want to, because everything else in their environment, other than their family traditions, show them that they can diversify as much as they want without worrying about it. Why should Jessica, a Jew, marry a convenient Jewish man if she doesn’t want to? She gave that a shot, and it didn’t work out, with Josh Myers (Scott Cohen), who also happens to be her boss and a big asshole at work since they broke up, though it’s quite obvious that what he is is indignant because he clearly didn’t want to end things at all.

On the other side is Helen Cooper, quite the modern dynamic New Yorker who has tried it all and wants more. Her friends are gay people but she’s straight though wild, and comes up with the notion that the only thing missing for her is another woman, which is far from a novelty, making them rather old-fashioned not to have had it. She goes for the greatest challenge: to conquer another straight woman. Her approach is romanticism mingled with diversity. She attacks the mind. When she hooks up with Jessica, the latter isn’t as willing to give women a shot, but Helen is just so damn interesting. Eventually, both are convinced they’re on the gay side, but they’re more in love with the other person than with the gender.

Jessica Stein suffers from the kind of neurosis that I think makes people exasperating and impossible to deal with. She’s grossly insecure and overly smart which is a tragic combination in the sense that she is constantly trying to hide her insecurities by proving her smartness. Helen has another glitch to her personality that also has the potential to make her unbearable: she regards herself as superior because of all that she has experienced. Even though these are two types of people that actually exist in bunches, there’s another that’s much easier to identify with: Josh, a frustrated dreamer who sees his life crumble around him while in the midst of by-the-book success.

That Jessica and Helen are the kinds of people that I just described is of course a commentary about New Yorkers and it’s quite valid but taken to the extreme. That’s explained in the origin of the film: an off-Broadway show called “Lipschtick” by Heather Juergensen and Jennifer Westfeldt, who play Helen and Jessica respectively, which had a segment about two straight women who decide to date. One’s got to admire their work in adapting that into a feature film, though at times it’s quite obvious that they’re trying to make points rather than tell a story. No true complaints, though. At the end, I was quite entertained.

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Review

Mamma Mia!

Director

Phyllida Lloyd

Year

2008

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Am I really supposed to love something just because it’s got a structure built of pieces I love? That’s like those cameo-ridden movies just bursting with plenty famous faces, which don’t necessarily hold up on their own because whoever made them didn’t consider that the famous faces wouldn’t support the whole just because everyone loves them.

I felt that way with Mamma Mia!, a story built around a collection of well-loved (and quite wonderful) ABBA songs which is actually so weak and irrelevant that it can’t hold by itself and must get back to the songs every few minutes, and sometimes, unfortunately, not so few of those.

For those of you who have been in suspended animation or stuck in a deserted island for almost 40 years, ABBA was an outstanding Swedish pop group whose songs in English went all around the world so many times they’re still perfectly valid nowadays. Who can blame the two visionaries behind the band, Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus, for setting up this story to keep reminding the world of their creation? On stage, this was bombastically successful, and I heard from many mouths word that it was just wonderful. I never doubted it, but had the feeling that it was in all probability mostly fluff. Yes, indeed. It enchants, yes, it does, but that’s about it. Anyone looking for fair, coherent entertaining might leave wanting.

The story is clever nonetheless in a sporting, no-brainer kind of way. A 20-year old girl about to get married looks for her father and finds three possible candidates, the three of whom are subsequently invited to her wedding in the Greek isle hotel where her mother raised her. The inadvertent guys are still so swept by the mother that they all attend, and create much confusion since the girl can’t figure out which one’s the right one, and comes to question her life choices while at it. (Notice how I figured a way to make the story seem rather profound? Don’t be fooled.)

The mother is shaken by the three uninvited guests too, and it’s quite clear who she’ll end up with, which becomes much more relevant than who the father is, but we don’t really care about either subject. The ABBA songs just keep popping up and stopping the action, because they usually have absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on, or if they do, it’s not really all that important. Sometimes it’s annoying, other times it’s great, but the latter times are mostly on account of the boring procedures that preceded the songs.

In actuality, aside from the songs, which are as great as ever and nicely arranged, the film benefits from two assets: location and performances. The vistas are just exquisite, one longs to be where the action is taking place. The performers are famous, for one, and game when it comes to singing, dancing, jumping and, to sum it up, making fools of themselves.

I thought the one sparkle of light and the one person who doesn’t really come off ridiculed is the protagonist, young Amanda Seyfried, who not only is lovely and gorgeous but also quite credible and touching in her part, and also has a very nice voice. The other one worth mentioning, as is always the case, is Meryl Streep as her mom, though I was frankly sort of embarrassed to see her playing such camp most of the time, and also didn’t quite believe that it was her singing voice all along (I might be wrong though, we know she can do about everything and do it right).

The other famous faces belong to Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård and Colin Firth as the three possible fathers, and Julie Walters and Christine Baranski as Streep’s lifelong “pals” (the scenes of these three usually touch rock bottom).

Overall, I’d say the sights are OK, but stick to the soundtrack.

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Review

The Fly

Director

David Cronenberg

Year

1986

Rating

Reviewed by

Gon Curiel a.k.a. Groucho

Review date

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Not just any movie can impact your whole life. I watched The Fly in my earliest years and became obsessed with it, and then I kind of dismissed it as a quite shocking gory film that I morbidly enjoyed when I was highly impressionable, but I kept remembering it, more often every time, and all of a sudden, recently, I realized its greatness, revisited it, and found out the reason why it impacted me so much: it’s a masterpiece.

One of the things I figured was that I had been wrong to consider that turning the bright tale of a scientist into a gruesome monster story was intended to attract those who couldn’t resist to see a man slowly morphing into something horrific, but truly disrupted a fine plot that could’ve been and will never be after what they did. I was wrong. The circumstances that the scientist of this story goes through are completely self-induced and not at all uncommon in the world of science, discovery and genius, with fully credible tones of narcissism and self-destruction. That’s what makes it a full-power tragedy comparable to any by a classic author such as Sophocles or Shakespeare.

The Fly is a love story based on the George Langelaan 1950s tale of a wife perfectly happy to have killed her scientist husband after an experiment that went horribly wrong. It had been made into a film that same decade with much cult following, but was never interpreted with as much humanity and poignancy as in the David Cronenberg version, scripted by him and Charles Edward Pogue. Borrowing the best elements from that old tale, the 1986 film chronicles the romance between a scientist and a journalist from the moment they meet to the time it all ends. It’s pretty much seen from her point of view, and it shows step by step what a dreadful venture it all was.

When Veronica meets Seth Brundle, he’s irresistible: weird but completely bright, funny and in love with his achievement. He has successfully constructed a teleporting devise capable of transporting anything from one telepod to the other, feet away, in a matter of seconds. Veronica sees the opportunity of a lifetime in covering the final steps of the creation and spends all day with Brundle.

They fall in love, and eventually jealousy drives him to experiment on himself. It’s too soon but he’s impulsive, paranoid and too much in love with himself to consider all the possibilities that might go wrong. The one he would’ve least dreaded—a fly stepping into the telepod with him and getting fused into his DNA during the teleportation—is the one that becomes the beginning of the end.

Sci-fi fans can’t get enough of Brundle’s metamorphosis, which is the same thing that happened to me as a child. It’s certainly impressive, with revolutionary makeup and special effects by Chris Walas, but if Brundle became monster just like that it would have probably made the Fangoria magazine cover and then gone on to oblivion. Instead, Brundle becomes a way more fascinating character who goes through many phases as the insect takes over not only his body but also, and most importantly, his mind.

Never abandoning his sense of humor, with much display of gallows humor, in fact, as he slowly sees his humanity disappear, he’s a character much embellished by the situation inflicted by himself, and the conflict of the great love he feels for Veronica mingled with the desire to preserve his humanity in any way he can.

The tragedy takes place for the most part in Brundle’s apartment, a warehouse-like place where he lives and conducts his experiments. This is the kind of cinematic place where you feel at home no matter how bad things are in it. Never allowing the place to become a confinement for the audience, Cronenberg handles it as a whole universe with countless possibilities. The same approach is taken by Howard Shore, whose brilliant score never undermines the story but rather glorifies it.

A third character, Veronica’s boss and ex-boyfriend Stathis Borans (John Getz), is responsible for much of the conflict, but it’s all really defined by Brundle, who became “the part Jeff Goldblum was born to play”, the outstanding actor snatching the personage and giving him a unique and unforgettable tone, in every one of his stages. Geena Davis is also perfection as Veronica, a woman so brave she can face a most horrific and quite exceptional situation never becoming a victim but in fact a part of it, responsible enough to warn another, who might get involved too, to “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

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