Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead (Sidney Lumet, 2007) [8]

When I think of Sidney Lumet's films, I think of them being expertly crafted and enjoyable but I never happen to think of the man as an auteur. It's that craftsman like precision that really keeps Lumet from having the identifiable style of contemporaries like Scorsese and Altman. After seeing this film, I happen to feel the same way. This is an excellent thriller with some tremendous performances and fantastic moments but still lacks just a little bit.

Andy (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) and Hank (Ethan Hawke) are some brothers who need money. Andy comes up the idea to rob their parents jewelry store, the idea being that it's as close as you can get to the perfect crime. The problem is the robbery doesn't go as easily as planned and the rest of the film goes back and forth between characters and time to tell of the crime's reasons, planning, and consequences. Lumet jumps back and forth into time and his emphasis on character's. One sequence will focus on Hank after the robbery and we get some information that gets thrown about on Andy which is explained more in depth when Andy becomes the focus of the story. This non-linear storyline makes the film much more interesting than if it was told in a straight line. It fractured and frantic pace help re-enforce that the characters feel the same, racing to decipher everything that's going on. My one qualm is that Lumet does this a little too overtly, spelling out this is 'Andy: one week after the robbery' etc. and using a jarring flashing to change perspective. I know the perception of the average moviegoer is that they're a moron but someone of Lumet's stature isn't getting that audience. Give me a little more respect; I can figure out what's going on without having to be told who the story's focusing on now.

The performances here are solid especially Hoffman as the bullying, oily older brother. Ethan Hawke, who I don't care much about, does a good job playing the younger, weaker brother. There are some scenes between the two after everything has unraveled that are just electric, with Hoffman stealing the scene. Hawke is smart enough to know Hank's role and let Hoffman dominate. Albert Finney is there to fill the need of the father, whose relationship with his sons plays a key underlying plot point in the film. As the story progresses and things get more unhinged, the film becomes more than just a heist film. It becomes about family, the bonds that it creates and also the dysfunction that can lasting consequences. There's a lot of baggage between all three of these characters and the robbery becomes a microcosm to explore everyone and their issues. Lumet does a great job of laying all this out even though I'm not quite sold on the end. Even at 83, Sidney Lumet can still show younger filmmakers how to make a entertaining and very good film.

Glengarry Glen Ross

Glengarry Glen Ross (James Foley, 1992) [9]

On many occasions, it may seem when reviewing films, that I spend more time talking about arcane ideas like form and composition of images. Story and acting are never really that important when talking about auteur theory and aesthetics. This film is all dialogue and performances and I happen to think it's exceptional at those areas. If you want to talk about it as a film, it isn't much more than a filmed stage play but after all, that's all it was. This isn't real James Foley's film, even though he does a good job of standing back and letting his actors chew their meaty roles. (Side note: James Foley is the only notable director that I've ever met; it's not important to the review, I just wanted to get it out there.) David Mamet and his dialogue are still the stars of the film. It crackles with sarcasm, profanity, desperation, and an utter lack of candor. Even though it's big and loud, the dialogue is all we know of the salesman and their world, the phantom (?) properties, and what is exactly going on. It's never clear whether this whole real estate business is a scam, and whose these people really are beyond their bluster. It's never really that important in that the whole film is in the now, not concerned with any past. The film really hinges on the actors' performances and really they couldn't be much better. Pacino, Harris, and Baldwin are perfect for their parts but no discussion can go on further without Jack Lemmon as Shelley. Clearly the basis for my favorite Simpsons character, Gil, Lemmon plays Shelley with a mix of desperation, envy, and failure that sums up everything about the film. Shelley constantly lives in the past, touting himself as 'the machine', of bragging of past accomplishments mostly because he has no where else to go but to the absolute bottom. It's really what these characters are grasping for; fighting to accomplish something (a Cadillac, good leads, the feeling of success) in order to stave off the stench of failure and total defeat that looms over the entire picture. It's a fight that by the end ends with its expected outcome.

The Essential Collection - Out of the Past

Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947) [10]

Tournerur is one of the great forgotten noir directors and I'm hard pressed to find another film noir that is as great as this one. Quite simply, it's one of my favorite films ever made. Robert Mitchum is perfect as Jeff Markham or Jeff Bailey, depending on the situation, a "detective" that gets ensnared with a femme fatale played by Jane Greer and shadowy rich man, done with the right amount of smug charm by Kirk Douglas. The true meat and potatoes of the story are like many other noirs, full of twists, set-ups, and double crosses. Markham was initially hired by Sterling (Douglas) to track down the femme fatale who had shot him and stole his money. Markham tracks her down in Mexico only to become enamored by her and help her allude Sterling. Their entanglements eventually lead to a murder and situation in which Markham retreats to a small town and becomes Bailey. Sterling's men happen to track Bailey down and he owing them a big favor, has no choice but to accept. Of course it's a set-up and once again, Bailey's weakness shows as the woman entraps him. There's no outcome but an untimely death.

What is unique about this film is how it tells its story. The entire background story is told in a flashback, Mitchum doing the first-person narration. The entire narrative ellipses takes up most of the first half of the film, in which we learn everything about who Bailey was and how he ended up where he was. It's odd to see a studio film of the era use elliptical narrative structure so prominently and more so, so successfully. The story told in the flashback flows so seamlessly that it never feels clunky or a waste. It's most important because that sequence is crucial to developing the characters for the second half of the film. Mitchum excels as the typical noir protagonist, an (now) ordinary man thrown into extraordinary circumstances. He plays Jeff with the right amount of casual indifference and grim understanding of what exactly he got himself into with Kathie. He recognizes his weakness at resisting women and Greer plays her role with the steely understanding that Jeff will do almost anything she asks. They're performances of what you expect out of any film noir with their mannerisms and language but somehow they make it seem go beyond genre. Tourneur's direction is flawless in that he doesn't let film noir stereotypes take over. He lets the actors act and the story do its work. Out of the Past also goes beyond genre; sometimes, film noir is held to different standards than other films but this is a great film, film noir or not.

Stranger Than Paradise

Stranger Than Paradise (Jim Jarmusch, 1985) [8]

Jarmusch's minimalist debut film is a richer, much more complex film than it appears on its surface. It deals with many more deeper meanings than just its deadpan exterior. A lot of the praise for the film really ignores the story itself and deals mostly with its form, a series of static sequences all delivered with a dry, deadpan sense of humor. There's a lot I like about Jarmusch's style but also happen to feel what happens in this film also is interesting. Willie is an immigrant now living in New York, hustling with his friend Eddie to make a living. His life gets thrown out of whack by his visiting cousin from Hungary, Eva, on her way to Cleveland. It's clear that the two have not much in common from their tastes in music to clothing. By using the form he does, Jarmusch is really able to strip a lot of extraneous elements away so the ideas of foreigners and assimilation really come to mind. It's this clash of differing cultures that gives the film its humor, especially the scene with the t.v. dinners. Eventually Eva goes to Cleveland and after a questionable poker game, Willie and Eddie decide to take a road trip. They visit Eva and Aunt Lotte. They go to see Lake Erie but its frozen and windswept. The three decide to head to Florida, to perceived paradise. What happens in Florida can be described as a bit of misunderstandings that allow for a humorous ending. It may not seem like much is going on in the story, but I feel that Jarmusch is describing America to some extent. Someone like Eva comes to America expecting big things but is stuck in a lousy job in a city with lousy weather. Willie and Eddie aren't much better off. The expectations of Florida is of a grand playground but all Jarmusch shows are race tracks, highways, and motels. The reason why this works instead of being pointless is that by using the structure of the film leaves some detachment for the viewer from the characters in all their restless glory. Stranger than Paradise paints a sketch of characters on the edges of the American dream who wish to find the promise of America but end up still searching. But Jarmusch creates an almost sealed off universe where America for these characters aren't palm trees and sunshine and is instead more drab and pointless than many of us would want to believe. What this film does show is maybe that world is more honest than the ideal one.

Hey! Why is this Bright Eyes concert get full of immature assholes?

Went to the glorious Magic City Music Hall in beautiful Johnson City, NY on Wednesday to see Bright Eyes' first and last performance in my hometown. When this was initially announced I was completely shocked, seeing that Magic City's forte is mostly washed-up classic rockers and shitty metal bands, and wondered what type of crowd would go. I just had a feeling that it wouldn't go that well, and I was sort of right. The crowd was pretty good sized but may have been the worst I've ever been a part of. Coming of age in the jam band scene makes going to a Bright Eyes concert an uncomfortable proposition and between all the plaid shirts and emo college kids, I really felt out of place. But what was the worst was the overall immaturity of the crowd. Between all constant talking and cell phone bullshit, it was like half of this crowd had never been to a concert before. This might have had something to do with looked like half the crowd being underage but still, that's no excuse from given the performers on stage a little respect. When a group is doing a quiet song, the audience should actually shut up and listen. Conor didn't really help himself as he grew perpetually drunker and belligerent as the night went on. I've heard about the drunk show stories and while it didn't really affect his overall performance, it was just another blight on the night. I could understand his frustration with the crowd though as the band actually cut one quieter song out because the crowd just wouldn't shut up. If the Binghamton area is actually wants to get more quality concerts, the people going to them should stop acting like assholes and appreciate an artist like Conor Oberst actually came. I doubt he'll ever be back again. At least I'll be in Portland in a couple of months where people actually appreciate actual music.

On an unrelated note but something I wanted to address, Norman Mailer, someone who I have great apprectiation for as an author, passed away last week. As a person, Mailer was a pretty dislikable man to many different groups and his general boorishness has a unique appeal. There's no denying that the man was a talented writer and that being a prick shouldn't disqualify his literary achievements. Read The Executioner's Song and find out.

Army of Shadows

Army of Shadows (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1969) [7]

Every once and a while, for whatever reason, I find it hard to get into a film. The most notable example of this was my first viewing Exotica, after which I didn't quite like. I changed my mind after a second viewing and hopefully the same can be said for this film, which I can't quite see as the masterpiece the majority of critical reviews have given it. The film is described as a thriller but there wasn't a whole lot of action. Melville pays crucial attention to the behaviors and interior processes of his characters more than their actions. Granted, there are a few action sequences throughout but I found the film more of a psychological examination of the French Resistance more than something like the Bourne films. The film's strength relies in its examination of the characters and their actions, led by mannered looking Philippe. Melville spends a lot of time focusing on reactions, letting the camera linger to capture the true emotion of the situations the characters are in. One of the main themes is the necessary actions of what those in the Resistance were doing but being knocked up against using ruthless tactics not that much different than the Nazis. Traitors must be executed, people will die, and these characters have to come to some acceptance of their actions. Netflix calls the film bleak and uncompromising, with which I have to agree, and maybe this might be the cause of my issue with the film. I just find it too strenuous at times with its omnipresent downbeat nature. I also feel the film was too long and maybe for one a little streamlining of action wouldn't be too bad. All this doesn't mean that I don't think Army of Shadows is a bad film; it isn't, it's just that I don't see the masterpiece that many want to believe.

Year of the Dog

Year of the Dog (Mike White, 2007) [5]

In Mike White's films, especially The Good Girl and Chuck & Buck, his characters very often have very disturbing personality traits but somehow manage to come across as harmless despite their disturbances. My biggest problem with this film is that is how Peggy (Molly Shannon) comes across to me and I just don't buy it. This doesn't mean Peggy's characterization is wrong; the supporting characters themselves are so wrapped up in their own preoccupations that they are all conveniently oblivious to Peggy's tailspin. The film as a whole works in its logic, it just my personal opinion that I don't like how it turns out. Peggy's transformation after the death of her dog turns her into a very traumatized and dangerous person. Peggy's deterioration comes off mostly as harmless and by the end, everything gets resolved, not completely happy, but there is resolution. What I'm trying to say is that I find it hard to believe what happens to here would not be noticed by somebody and the resolution of her conflict would be a little bit more substantive. Peggy turns into a vegan animal rights activist and while I don't think that automatically makes her a "nut", I think the way Shannon plays it makes it very hard to get away from some preconceived notions about PETA and their ilk. It's a shame my outside baggage weighs this film down because there are some really good performances here, especially by Shannon who does a great job skipping back and forth from emotional states. Even with all of her disturbances and trauma, her character still wants to be seen as harmless and for once in a Mike White written film, I have a hard time believing.

Knocked Up

Knocked Up (Judd Apatow, 2007) [6]

As I've stated before, I'm a huge fan of Freaks & Geeks and Undeclared which maybe means I'm expecting too much of Apatow's films. This along with the 40 Year Old Virgin have their laughs but they really aren't that impressive overall. This is a solidly executed film but it really isn't the kind of revelatory piece that critics painted it to be. Maybe when you release a film in the shitstorm that is the summer movie season, anything that is even watchable becomes a masterpiece. For the actual film, it just drags too much in the beginning and really only gets its footing (and most of its laughs) when the focus moves to the Rogen and Heigl characters' relationship issues. Too much of the film is spent on the sophomoric aspects of Ben's friends which I could really do without. Apatow formally as a director doesn't do anything but get the basics across, not doing anything to emphasize the emotional complexities the film has. It's rare to see a film like this tackle the issues of marriage and raising children with such a real mix of joy, humor, and depression as this. The greatest strength of the film is that it places all the neuroses of marriage and kids right out there, whether it be the doubt if you're in the right relationship or if you can actually be a fit father. The end of the film is quite conservative, and while I'm not begrudging it, it jostles with my sensibilities. Is it quite necessary? What exactly has Ben learned besides cleaning up his superficial personality traits? I guess it all comes down to what you want out of this film; if you wanted laughs and a tidy ending you got it but I think there could have been a bit more to what Knocked Up actually is.

By Brakhage

I was in the cinema program at Binghamton University which is much more based in experimental film than narrative film. After all, the program was founded by Ken Jacobs, one of the most revered people in the genre. I rarely saw any of Jacobs' work but the one filmmaker who was the cornerstone of everything the program stood for was Stan Brakhage. Brakhage is the single most influential experimental filmmaker of the 20th century, at least in terms of creating a certain genre of experimental film, the lyrical film as defined by P. Adams Sitney in his book Visionary Film. For Sitney, lyrical film is film where the one behind the camera is the protagonist of said film. Everything seen through the camera is a first person viewpoint of the events as they are seen by the protagonist. Lyrical film is also defined by the constant movement of the camera as well as constant movement of images. Brakhage fits this description but there's more to his works than that. He has an inherent romanticism about him that flows through his work, especially his earlier work, that give his films a personality that keeps them from being didactic and sterile. Only a portion of his vast output is in this Criterion set, and sadly there is no Anticipation of the Night (1962), which I feel is his most accomplished work.



There are two phases to Brakhage's career: his earlier, more lyrical works and his later, non-lyrical works, which are almost exclusively him painting directly on film. I'm not going to cover anything about those mostly because I feel that they have more to do with modern art than film. A big discussion can be brought up about what exactly these film are and how they operate in the filmic world and all but frankly, I don't find them nearly as interesting as the image film (for lack of a better term). All the Brakhage film I'd seen at Binghamton were these, and all of them are somewhat similar in structure. There are a lot of quick movements, superimposition, and contrast of a variety of images. The standout piece on the collection is Window Water Baby Moving (1962), which graphically depicts childbirth. Brakhage takes the birth footage and cuts in shots of water, light, and the body to create something that comes out that's much prettier than one would expect. I had seen this a couple of years before and had a hard time getting past the childbirth footage but seeing it again, the meticulous nature of the cuts creates a very good film. Cat's Cradle (1959) is similar in structure and more obtuse, dealing more with sexual tension. Mothlight (1963) is one of Brakhage's most memorable pieces in that it consists entirely of moth wings and parts glued to film and projected. It's an awe-inspiring film in regards to its labor and effort put in but it just doesn't quite grab me as much as the lyrical work. Of all Brakhage's later works, only Comingled Containers (1997) does anything to intrigue me. It forsakes paint for water and the contrast of aquatic imagery harkens back to the lyrical films in a way that not much work of that time does.

The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes (1971) is the closest to an actual documentary Brakhage ever gets. It is footage entirely of autopsies and I actually didn't have as much of a problem with this as when I saw Window Water Baby Moving for the first time. It's almost a linear film in its progression and with much more static shots and edits, it doesn't feel quite like typical Brakhage.

Brakhage's self-described epic, Dog Star Man (1964) is his crowning achievement and one of the best experimental films ever made. That being said, even for me, it is an extremely difficult film to get through. Just because a film is difficult doesn't mean that it's not great or there aren't redeeming qualities about it. Shot in five parts, a prelude and four acts, it's a romantic observation of man, his dreams, and his interaction with the world. It's really difficult to try and boil down all the ideas in it to a paragraph or so but it's really about a man's search for truth and beauty in the world around him. It's Brakhage's most aesthetically accomplished work, with layers upon layers of superimpositions and images. It can become such an overload of imagery that it becomes hard to really focus on certain aspects for too long, especially towards the end of the Prelude and Act I. Even though, its achievement of filmmaking artistry is so impressive that the construction of the film is the center for me. Along with Scorpio Rising and Wavelength, Dog Star Man is one of the experimental films that define the genre for me. I know this kind of work isn't for everyone but for anyone with an interest in experimental film, Brakhage's work is not to be missed.

Monthly Listening Post - October 2007

Not much this month but one really good discovery in The Cave Singers, whose debut should crack my year-end top ten.

The Cave Singers - Invitation Songs
Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
The Thrills - Teenager
Ryan Adams & the Cardinals - Follow the Lights

The Essential Collection: American Movie

American Movie (Chris Smith, 1999)

It's been five years since I've seen this and while my overall viewpoint of the film has changed a bit, it's still at its heart a really good film about a really earnest man. When I first saw this, I couldn't help but laugh at Mark Borchardt, his antics, and his friends. After seeing this again, I really feel more sorry for him than anything. It's hard to tell what Borchardt really thinks of Smith but there's no doubt Smith is using Borchardt and his friends, especially Mike Schank for their comedy more than their ambitions. That doesn't mean that that doesn't come out in the film; what Smith also does is capture the ultimate filmmaker's film about a man whose only ambition is to make a film. For every comic trait Borchardt has, from his way of talking to his drinking problem to his mostly naive view of the film industry, he also has more ability than the film wants to give him credit for. He knows enough about filmmaking to have some good ideas and shots but the film doesn't really want to focus on that. It's Borchardt Hell-be-damned goals that are really the most important elements of the film, not everything that goes wrong. That brings me to the one issue I have: that the film perceives these characters as unrealistic imbeciles at times. I don't think it's entirely harmful to the film but it's a question that lingers in the back of my mind, mostly because these characters are oblivious that they were going to be laughed at. I feel bad for a guy like Mike, who has clearly taken one acid trip too many as told by himself in the film and is a clueless burnout used mostly for laughs. The problem is it's almost impossible to not laugh and Smith has for better or not, crafted an expert comedy. Even after all these years, American Movie is still a very good film but it's hard to determine if it was actually good for the ones that were in it.

Jesus Camp

Jesus Camp (Heidi Ewing & Rachel Grady, 2006) [4]
There's something quite disturbing about this documentary and it doesn't come from the Evangelicals and their actions that populate this film. What's more disturbing to myself is the whiff of exploitation that comes out of this. It's quite obvious that the Evangelical movement are exploiting this kids for their own political and social motivations, indoctrinating them into thoughts and ideas that kids shouldn't really have to grapple with at such an early age. That being said, Ewing and Grady are just as responsible for exploiting these kids who obviously have no clear grasp of how they are going to be portrayed. I'm not one of these people that are overprotective of kids but there were a handful of instances in this film that made me angry and uncomfortable with the way the adults, the filmmakers included, use these kids for their own personal advantages.

I don't really think political views have anything to do with reviewing a film so I will keep what I personally think of the Evangelical movement to myself. The film should have had good enough sense to do the same. Ewing and Grady bring a liberal viewpoint to this and they really didn't. Let the viewer decide for themselves what they think of these events. There may not be any agreement with the views of the people in the film, but let the film put it out there and have everyone make their own decision. The blundering use of an ominous soundtrack and the Air America Radio type asides do not have to be in this film. At the end of the film, the radio host and the children's' pastor have a conversation in which the host voices the same concerns I had. Watching the film, I feel that kids should be able to be kids and make these decisions about religion and morality on their own free will. I already had that assumption from the film, I don't need the film to tell it to me. Ewing and Grady are using these kids to help a political agenda and that's just wrong, as the S-CHIP debate has shown. Just leave the kids alone and go after the ones here that really deserve scorn, the adults facilitating this.

The Films of Kenneth Anger, Volume 2

The first volume of Kenneth Anger's collected work came out a while back but what I was really looking forward to was Volume 2, solely because of Scorpio Rising. I happens to be one of my top ten films of all time and having it out on DVD gets it out there beyond film classes, where incidentally, I have seen almost all these films before. Here we go with the grades:

Scorpio Rising (1964) [10]
In my mind, Anger's masterpiece. Its style and form have become so influential on later filmmakers and styles. With its frenetic cuts and rock & roll soundtrack, its easy to see its influence on someone like Scorsese as well as being a template for the music video revolution. The film itself is masterfully arranged with Anger starting off with a lot of slow pans of motorcycles with the film gradually becoming more kinetic as the action increases. Anger inter cuts outside footage of a film about Jesus as well as some Nazi and occult imagery to great effect. The inter cutting between the Scorpio character going out and the footage of Jesus is funny and right on in making a correlation. The ideas of ritual and the occult that Anger will later cover more in depth rear up in the motorcycle culture. Anger spends a good amount of the film showing Scorpio and the others preparing to go out, the clothes they wear, the mythology involved with the motorcycle culture. Of course, the film shows the homoerotic aspects of this culture, the idea of leather and chains that has become a stereotype of a gay subculture. I think too much has been made of this aspect; Scorpio Rising get pegged as a "gay film" when it really has little explicitly to do with it. It's more a film about ritual and ultimately sacrifice with the motorcycle race and the deadly end. The real power of Scorpio Rising is that it takes a lot of mundane stuff and arranges it in a way that creates something fresh and exciting. To me, it's a landmark of experimental cinema.


Kustom Kar Kommandos (1965) [5]
Besides the tongue in cheek title, there isn't really anything about this that makes it stand out. It feels too much like Scorpio Rising outtakes, except with cars instead of motorcycles. A lot of the same as Scorpio in terms of form. Lots of pans, Bressonian focus on objects, and that rock and roll soundtrack. At only 3 minutes, it doesn't do much to leave a big impression.


Invocation of My Demon Brother (1969) [7]
The most experimental of all the works on this collection, it's also probably the most divisive film of the set. What was originally film for a first version of Lucifer Rising, it's a film that focuses heavily on the occult and the black magic of Aleister Crowley. The crux of the footage is Anger performing his "magik" ritual in which a God of light is born from opposites. Don't ask me how it happens; what sells the film for me is the editing and images which is the closest Anger comes to approximating the style of Brakhage. The droning Moog score by Mick Jagger, who also appears briefly, is either going to repulse or intrigue you.


Rabbit's Moon (1979 Version) [6]
This is the first version of Rabbit's Moon I saw and I really don't feel much different about either one. This version is a bit more streamlined in terms of what shots are shown, as there is much more repetition of action in this version. This causes the story Anger wanted to tell, of a Japanese fable that a rabbit lives in the moon, to lose some of it focus but forms trumps story here. The use of the XTC song feels disjointed to what's being shown but it has a certain topical relevance that makes it work.


Lucifer Rising (1981) [4]
The most puzzling film for me, and another film about ritual and black magic. It has similarities to Scorpio in that regard but it much more direct in the occult and symbols. The film is flooded with them from Egyptian symbols to the occult to mystical spaceships. It creates too much of an image overload with no real discernible theme outside of that of ritual. Speaking on a formal note, there's just something that feels off about this film. Anger is a filmmaker of such a certain style and this doesn't feel like an Anger film to me.


Continuing on an experimental binge, I've gotten the By Brakhage anthology through Netflix so a comprehensive Stan Brakhage retrospective will be coming in the next week or two. Even though I've seen a good portion of his work, I wanted to seen everything again to really give a good opinion.

Inland Empire

Inland Empire (David Lynch, 2006) [5]

I don't want to be someone taking a director to task for being too self-indulgent or not knowing when to edit because I generally believe in the auteur theory and giving directors the benefit of the doubt. The problems with this film is what I mentioned above. It is a film that has some very interesting things going on but is too rambling and incohesive to make much sense. David Lynch has never been one to have a straightforward narrative, which I'm not talking about when I talk about this film not making sense. Speaking on a formal level, this has too much going on to make it work. Some things seem downright unnecessary, from the rabbit headed characters sitcom to the film within a film within a film and (I'm assuming) the ex-flames of the male star of the film within a film. Lynch throws so much into this that he really weakens the strength of the film which is the Laura Dern character's journey. If Lynch were to just focus on her, it would have been a shorter, and greater film. Dern is absolutely fearless in her role, and the scenes with her are truly the most memorable. As the film goes, she descends deeper into a filmic world where the reality we're given at the beginning and the supposed film become more and more indistinguishable. This blurriness of temporal space is probably the most irritating feature to someone watching accustomed to narrative. This isn't a film that conventional narrative can be found and it shouldn't be applied either. Inland Empire is Lynch's most experimental work and it should really be looked at in regards to experimental film. That being said, in my mind the one major reason experimental film can go wrong is if it becomes too self-indulgent. Inland Empire is guilty of that mostly because by shooting on DV, Lynch can shoot much more footage than with film. I'll come out and say I despise DV on aesthetic levels, but I'll admit Lynch makes it work to his advantage at times. But it also allowed him to film a lot of scenes that weren't necessary. That lack of editorial discretion makes this film too long and lessens the impact of what works. At its central focus, Inland Empire has some very strong elements working in its favor, but by failing to harness his ambitions, Lynch ends up with a film that just doesn't quite hit its mark.

The TV Set

The TV Set (Jake Kasdan, 2007) [6]

Jake Kasdan worked on Freaks & Geeks and Undeclared, two of my favorite shows in the history of television that didn't make it a full season on the air. Kasdan seems to have taken the worst elements of his experiences in television and placed them in the character of Mike Klein, a writer trying to get his pilot greenlighted by the network and still keep some artistic credibility. The film is basically a series of all the inane notes and dumbing-down network television does in the name of better ratings. There is a lot of satire that's dead on here, beginning with Sigourney Weaver's performance as the network president. Weaver's performance becomes the centerpiece of the film, due to her at times hilarious and at time horrifying performance. She's meant to be a representation of the industry itself, with it's penchant for "broad" shows that aren't too original, too original scares them a little. Kasdan does a good job of showing the inane nature of the industry as well as the struggle between artistic credibility and popular appeal. Mike has everything go wrong that possibly could: he has to change his vision of the show, he has the wrong actor in the lead, and once the show does get picked up, the marketing of it is taken in a completely different direction. Duchovny plays it all with a perma-wince across his face, half flummoxed and outraged at the network dissection of his show. It does play as solid satire and is funny to anyone who has the same view of network television as Kasdan, which I do.

My only real issue with the film is that everyone knows television has little to no artistic credibility. This is the way things work in television and it is such an easy target to skewer. A difference has to be made here between network t.v. and cable; even Mike says his show isn't going to be The Sopranos, which states there is a distinction being made. Granted, I'm no fan of network t.v. and I enjoyed the film throughout but the film does come across as a hopeless exercise. Kasdan knows the networks are never going to change so he can take all the shots at them he wants. In its best moments (the network testing at the mall, the Slut Wars scene at end), the film does its best when it attacks the stupidity of the general public for allowing the networks to get away with what they put on the air. The bad thing is there are too few of those moments to make it a fantastic film instead of just a good one.

The War

The War (Ken Burns & Lynne Novick, 2007) [9]

This will undoubtedly be on my Top Ten list of 2007 even though it will never see a commercial theatrical release. I don't really see the need to be so dogmatic to say that films that weren't shown in theatres somehow don't count. Burns has created a thoughtful, grateful, and refreshingly apolitical film that triggers strong emotions yet isn't pandering or cheap. The subtle difference that Burns uses for his approach, telling personal stories of the war, make it much stronger than retelling history as every WW II documentary on the History Channel. Each man or woman's story has enough of their own personal experience to show human elements that haven't yet been seen yet all the while still threading them into the greater narrative of the war itself. It creates some truly powerful moments as you can see how much each story means to the people telling them. This film really isn't about the broad scope of history of war; it's about people and the sacrifices they made to fight and win. People tend to forget that the war was fought by actual people, not broad terms like Allies vs. Nazis/good vs. evil, etc. By giving a more human experience of the war, Burns has made his film much more powerful as well as interesting.

Ken Burns' style gets parodied and ridiculed to an extent and I could see how most film snobs wouldn't have much use for it. His overemphasis on geography, always reminding everyone of the four cities he focuses on can become a little tiresome after a while but that's about the only real formal flaw I have with the film. Obviously, the film relies heavily on archival footage and it has some remarkable yet graphic footage. The one element that Burns reiterates that is truly effective is that while World War II may have been a just and necessary war, that doesn't mean it was any different from any war. Lives, both soldiers and civilians, were lost. Much of Europe and Japan were virtually wiped off the face of the earth. The men who fought dealt with all the killing, maiming, and shock that war entails. World War II may have been a war that had to be fought, but that by no means makes it a "good" war. War is hell, and many of the veterans speaking in the film say as much. And while the film has no overt political agenda, all the graphic footage can make one feel that war in whatever the case is never necessary. As Spielberg said, all war films are anti-war films.

Monster In a Box

Monster In a Box (Nick Broomfield, 1992) [7]

I liked Swimming to Cambodia so much, I knew I would eventually catch up with this film at some time. Spalding Gray still is entertaining in his monologue here but he jumps around trying to tell too much. While Swimming to Cambodia really focused on Gray's experience while in Cambodia, here he goes from his book (the aforementioned monster), moving to L.A. to do a stage production, expeditions to Nicaragua and Russia, and acting in Our Town. While Gray does keep a thread intertwining between all these tangents some how, it comes across as shambling and less focused than his prior film. It doesn't help that Nick Broomfield attempts to do too much with light and sound effects. Gray is interesting enough as a speaker with all the emotion he himself puts into his monologue that Broomfield's excess of sound and lighting effects overwhelms the power of Gray's words at times. Still, Spalding Gray is an interesting enough storyteller that I can't help but be entertained. He exists on a fine line between real emotional punch and breezy conversation that keeps him from being too frivolous or too self-involved.

Away From Her

Away From Her (Sarah Polley, 2007) [7]

For a first time director, Polley has made a solid but by no means spectacular film, as some reviewers are wont to believe. Julie Christie's performance is solid but not nearly as great as the reviews state. From those reviews, you would think that the film centers around Christie's character but the film is more from the husband's viewpoint, played by Gordon Pinset. The film, after all is called Away From Her. I really don't want to knock Christie's performance because it is good but I found Pinset just as credible and dealing with a lot more complicated emotional issues. It's the nature of the story that Grant, being the husband, has to deal with the brutal realities more directly than his wife. Polley, who also adapted the screenplay from an Alice Munro short story, does a good job of handling the complexities and turmoil that the two main characters' relationship and love go through. What is impressive of her direction, especially for a first-timer, is that she a pretty good hold on a continuity of style throughout. She floods her scenes, especially in the assisted living home, with light, which is always being mentioned by the home's director. Even the elements that I think don't work so well, such as the ellipses in the narrative and too much camera movement in key scenes, aren't too much of a detriment because they are consistent in the style Polley's established. The acting performances also carry the film above any flaws in the style. Christie and Pinset's insightful and emotionally deep performances are key and Polley does a good job of keeping the film's focus on them.

Monthly Listening Post - September 2007

Ken Burns' new documentary on PBS, The War, has been taking up all my viewing time for the past week. While not as good as either The Civil War or Baseball, it still has some pretty powerful moments. A full review when the entire series is done. For now, here's what I'm listening to now:

Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam
Heavy Trash - Going Way Out with Heavy Trash
Devendra Banhart - Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon
Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog
Patton Oswalt - Werewolves & Lollipops

The Wind That Shakes the Barley

The Wind That Shakes the Barley (Ken Loach, 2007) [7]

What Loach does here is very skillful, in that he starts one way (Irish vs. British) and ends up in a completely unexpected place (Irish vs. Irish). The material he's working with is very incendiary, especially if approaching the events with sympathy for the Irish as I was. The film is an unsparing look at all sides of the Irish fight for independence at Great Britain, which Loach turns a critical eye all forces fighting in the struggle. The British occupying force is rightfully vilified, but Loach doesn't let the IRA off that easy either. There are scenes involving them that are just as cold-blooded and villainous as anything the Black & Tans did. That involves the Irish killing their own, as one thing the film does well is shift the identities of those fighting around as events in the film progress. Loach keeps the focus on this by focusing mainly on two characters, a set of brothers, Teddy, more in love with power than ideals, and Damien, the young doctor turned idealist. It's this amorphous identities of the characters that is interesting, especially when Teddy gets into power. The other interesting twist is how Damien moves from nationalist to socialist by the end. There's no denying that the poor where the ones behind the nationalist uprising, but the church and other factors suppressed the socialist tendencies of some especially after Ireland gained some autonomy. This clash of ideals the idealism of Teddy and the compromised power of Teddy is a real interest facet but only comes up in the end. It helps redeem the film a bit, as the second half gets bogged down in two much dissection of ideology and talking. It almost takes the film out of the intense fighting sequences that Loach has established in the first half. Still, he handles the material more than admirably and has made a film that doesn't try to sugarcoat history.