Cinema Hype

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, movies were brain candy. People went to the theater to escape, to kick back, to tune out for awhile. With The Good Shepherd, it appears that that era is over (Reno 911!: Miami notwithstanding). This movie is long, complex, and brainy, and it expects the audience to keep up. Thankfully, it’s more or less worth the investment.

The Good Shepherd is about a man (Edward Wilson, played by Matt Damon) entwined with the roots of the Central Intelligence Agency from World War II through the Bay of Pigs fiasco in 1961. It’s a hard movie to place: character study or spy movie? Both? Neither? The story is leisurely and the pace is slow, tracing twenty-five years of Wilson’s life. We see the choices he makes, the way he deals with the people around him, the way he operates. On the other hand, little is wasted here: director Robert DeNiro laces Wilson’s life with clues. Every character is a connection and every action has a reaction until the plot suddenly materializes about three-quarters of the way into the script. It’s subtle and it requires some brain power, but DeNiro makes it feel both epic and very, very detailed.

Not everything about The Good Shepherd quite rings true. The expectation that the audience will keep up with the story is flattering, but a few of the dots could be easier to connect. The cast is large and the story is full of double-crossing, so that it’s sometimes unclear exactly who is playing whom, and why. There’s also a startling torture scene that feels a little bit too political in its modernity. Perhaps it’s accurate–hoods and waterboarding aren’t new–but there’s a pointedness about the scene that feels a little bit smug. Damon and Angelina Jolie are obnoxiously ageless over the course of the movie, so that Wilson and his wife look essentially the same at twenty as they do at forty-five. Would a gray hair or two have killed the makeup department? They’re nice-looking people, we know, but they aren’t elves.

Thankfully, the cast is generally well chosen and give strong performances. Damon is good as Wilson, a man so defined by his job that his professional persona and his internal workings become indistinguishable. He is literally flawless–so hardened that he seems never to crack. Admittedly, he could probably play this role in his sleep, but his performance is still good. Jolie is a little bit too flamboyant to disappear into her role, but she doesn’t ruin anything, all things considered. The rest of the movie is packed with classy male stars: DeNiro, Joe Pesci, John Turturro, Michael Gambon, William Hurt, Billy Crudup, Alec Baldwin. They’re all good, if a little anonymous; they’re spies, after all.

In all, The Good Shepherd isn’t exactly empty matinee fodder, but it’s good. It might be more confusing than is really necessary, but at least it feels significant.

The Good Shepherd, Matt Damon, Angelina Jolie, Robert DeNiro, movie reviews

I hope all of you CH readers had lovely Christmases, if you’re of the Christmasing persuasion; things at CH Parental Headquarters were generally delightful, what with all of the Scrabble and the hanging around in pajamas and the opening of gifts.

In other news, I finally finished It’s a Wonderful Life, just in time. I now believe that I had never seen the whole thing–somehow I always seemed to arrive just as George crashed the car, and then wondered why nothing made sense. Now I know: Donna Reed and “Buffalo Girl;” planning to see the world and then staying in Bedford Falls; lending people money when they don’t deserve it; disappointment and disillusionment. Now that I’ve seen the whole thing, I see why people cry at the ending: it’s such a sad story and such a desperately happy ending, and it’s hard to be very snarky about it at all.

Thus endeth the Most Wonderful Time Film Festival; I might sit down with either The Family Stone or the original Miracle on 34th Street–both are still sitting next to the DVD player–but any further Christmas-movie viewing will be strictly for extra credit.

Merry and Happy to all! Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Christmas movies, It’s a Wonderful Life

I know you’re probably wondering what happened to the Most Wonderful Time Film Festival. I had this huge list of Christmas movies I was going to plow through. I still do. So what happened? It’s a Wonderful Life happened. George and Mary and Clarence and Zuzu happened, and so did disillusionment and redemption (I hear) and Frank Capra’s utter inability to cut anything, ever.

How is it that people watch this movie straight through? I’m not saying it’s bad. It’s not. I’m enjoying it. But the story of George Bailey’s life is long. I’ve been watching it all week, trying to finish–it’s like a giant bowl of pasta, where you feel like you’ve been eating and eating and eating, and you still have half the bowl left to go.

So that’s where the film festival stands: there’s a stack of borrowed movies in my living room and one behemoth American classic holding them all up (in the figurative sense). With a little luck and a little persistence, there will be more Christmas movies before the holiday ends.

Until then, I’ll be on the couch.

Since my superior quotation-finding skills were obviously the source of my handy victory last week, I’ve decided to go for a crowd-pleaser today.

Here’s the quotation:

“Randy lay there like a slug! It was his only defense!”

The first person to comment with the character, actor, and movie that contains that quote gets a special eyelash batting and a tailor-made Cinema Hype cheer, which might even rhyme. Ready? Steady? Go!

Since nobody correctly guessed last week’s quotation–“It’s not a lie. It’s a gift for fictionâ€?–I’m declaring myself victorious.

The answer, incidentally, was William H. Macy’s character, Walt Price, in State and Main.

My prize? I don’t have to write a cheer. Er, go me!

Now. It’s on.

I apologize to all who were waiting on this week’s Thursday haiku (and I know there were many, many people waiting…right?); a minor act of God, also known as a cranky internet connection, kept me poetry-free. But. Getting on with it:

Trying to finish
It’s A Wonderful Life soon;
things look dubious.

Cinema Hype: Good afternoon, Mr. … 714593. May we call you “Mr. 714593″?

Mr. 714593: Please, call me Ironhide. I’m something of a method actor–I’m trying to stay in character as much as possible.

CH: Right. Thank you so much for sitting down with us today. We at Cinema Hype see that the newest trailer for your film Transformers has just been released. Tell me, what is it like working with all of these other stunt cars?

Ironhide: Please. “Automotive performers.”

CH: Right. Automotive performers.

Ironhide: Well, we’re just having a fantastic time around here. It’s such a great opportunity for all of us to get together and hone our skills–usually we’re spread all over the world, and it’s hard to keep in touch, you know? Working on this film, it’s like old times: all of us just sitting around between takes, talking about the craft. We’re like a brotherhood. A brotherhood of metal. Mixed with origami. It’s inspiring, in a way. We are strong, yet beautiful.

CH: How did you come to be cast as Ironhide in such a major film?

Ironhide: Years of hard driving and elbow grease. They say it’s all in a lucky break, but a guy’s got to do a lot of dusty, dangerous commercials before he can catch a break like this. And those “professional drivers on a closed course?” Well, let’s just say that some of them wouldn’t know a smooth gear change if it hit them over the head. Not that I’d ever say anything bad about them. I’m not that kind of guy. It’s all about showing up, having someone different wax you down every day, and getting through it.

CH: What is it about this role that you find challenging?

Ironhide: I’m learning to channel my aggression more freely. Ironhide is an up-front guy, a real man’s machine, where I tend to be a little bit more introspective towards my own life and my own career. I’m not one of those 0 - 60 guys, you know? So I’m practicing what it’s like to feel the danger and to feel what it’s like to be fighting the good fight. I’m trying to approach my battle scenes using a wilder, less inhibited part of my microchip. To show that I’ve got some pistons, if you will.

CH: Can you give our readers an example?

Ironhide: Of course. It’s like, the Decepticons are coming after me, and I know that I have to stop them, and it’s not a game. It’s a war, you know? It’s a war, and it’s painful, but I’ve got to win….It’s like…RAAAAAAAAAAAAWR! [expands from truck shape into robot]

CH: Well. … Thank you for that. It certainly was impressive.

Ironhide: [drops to all fours and folds into a truck] Why, thank you. Some of the other guys and I have been working hard on our unfolding technique.

CH: How is that?

Ironhide: The way we unfold speaks to the audience about our characters, you know? Are we tentative? Are we suffering? Are we full of righteous indignation? This is important, and we’ve been collaborating a lot as a cast to capture those emotions and motivations in what we do.

CH: One last question. Can you tell me anything else about the film?

Ironhide: Just that it’s going to be a showcase for the new generation of automotive performers. It used to be that a guy had to have his doors soldered shut and let some cowboy jump through his windows just to get a break, you know? But these new brothers have talent. They’ve got skill. You should see the nuances. It’s a beautiful thing to watch. I think you’re all going to be satisfied with what you see.

CH: Thank you for sitting down with us today, Ironhide.

Ironhide: Hey, anytime. This isn’t just some remake of a twenty-year-old cartoon. These guys aren’t just cars turning into robots to defeat other cars. This is art, and I’m proud to be an automotive performer for the twenty-first century.

movies, transformers, transformers trailer, ironhide

Does anybody else think it’s a little ironic that a movie called The Pursuit of Happyness would end up being two hours of soul-crushing depression? I suppose the clue’s in the title: it’s about the pursuit of happ[i]ness. Nobody says anything about actually being happy. Good thing, too, or else they’d have some disillusioned filmgoers on their hands.

The movie isn’t bad from a technical standpoint. The script is reasonable, and director Gabriele Muccino has a knack for setting up his shots (though Will Smith does seem to spend half of his screen time running and/or crossing streets, which may have been a thematic choice, but I doubt it). What makes it a little tedious is the subject matter: The Pursuit of Happyness is about the stresses of poverty, the way that being poor wears on a person, even as he strives to find a way out. It’s realistic, but it’s hard to watch–all the audience wants is for something to go right for Smith’s character, just once, and Muccino doesn’t offer much to relieve that tension.

The reason to see this movie, if you’re looking for a reason, stands with Smith’s Golden-Globe-nominated performance as Chris Gardner. This is just the kind of role Smith thrives on: tough but heartfelt, golden-hearted and determined to do the right thing. His presence onscreen is easy–not lazy, just graceful–and he doesn’t rush or get hysterical, even when his character does. He wears Gardner like a skin and makes him accessible, which is probably Smith’s greatest gift as an actor. Smith’s real-life son, Jaden Christopher Syre Smith, plays Gardner’s long-suffering son, Christopher; he has surprisingly few lines for being a main character, but he delivers them well, without the self-consciousness of plenty of child actors. The same can’t be said for Thandie Newton, who plays Christopher Gardner, Jr.’s mother; it’s unclear what happened to Newton in this movie, but she’s full of bluster and histrionics, and would do well to maybe tone her act down in the future. Just a tad, please, Thandie. You’re making our ears ring. Also, would you like a snack? A Twinkie, maybe?

In all, The Pursuit of Happyness is reasonably well-made, and Smith is worth seeing in it. Just be prepared to have your heart slowly steamrolled, and tell yourself it’s all about the pursuit. That’s it.

Because CH is a place of openness and discussion–a place for intellectual freedom, if you will–I’d like to bring up a conversation I had today. I was speaking with a coworker about The Bishop’s Wife, and he alerted me to a theory his girlfriend had formulated. “Women don’t really love Cary Grant,” said my coworker. “Women love Jimmy Stewart. Men only think that women love Cary Grant.”

Now. I’m not a–how you say?–Jimmy Stewart connoisseur, but I’d like to get something straight here and now: I really do love Cary Grant. It’s not an act, I promise.

What’s not to like (marriage to Dyan Cannon notwithstanding)? He was prolific. He was good-looking. He knew how to wear a suit. He was well-spoken. Alfred Hitchcock liked him, and Alfred Hitchcock didn’t like anybody. He could be a good guy, a bad guy, a bad guy with a heart of gold, a good guy with no self-control. He’s the 20th-century leading man personified, and he’s my favorite.

Thoughts?

This weekend’s box-office scores weren’t what you’d call flighty. Not empty. No, this was a downright educational weekend at the movies. And shouldn’t we all learn something every day? In that spirit, three talking points:

1. Not to say “I told you so,” but The Pursuit of Happyness did take first place this weekend, which supports the theory that Will Smith’s likeability is an even stronger force than the standardization of English spelling.

2. Next up, marketing analysts have their answer to a long-debated question: with the second-place finish of Eragon, it seems that teenage boys are, in fact, a viable force for the economy. Just in case anybody was wondering.

3. Our third and final lesson for the day, supported by the fact that the seriously extended and un-canonical adaptation of Charlotte’s Web took third place, is that everybody loves a pig named Wilbur. There’s a joke about overprocessing and bacon in here somewhere, but it just seems too harsh for sensitive piglet ears.

I, for one, feel smarter already.

I have a request to make. It’s nothing, really. Just…the next time I pray for guidance, can Cary Grant come to visit? He doesn’t really even have to do anything, per se–I’m not sure he’d have much to say about my life–but I’m sure that having him just stand around and look debonair would be quite helpful.

What I just described is essentially the plot of the 1947 movie The Bishop’s Wife: a workholic bishop (David Niven) and his beautiful wife (Loretta Young, assisted by her spectacular cheekbones) pray for guidance about building a cathedral and about their marriage, and Grant shows up in the form of an angel named Dudley. It’s a good movie, but it sometimes feels like it’s missing something, like somebody forgot to decide what’s really going on in the script. There are questions left unanswered: Is it a drama or a comedy? What’s the deal with the random ice skating? And, most importantly, what really happens between Dudley and Julia?

The structure of the Dudley/Julia relationship (and therefore the movie) is strange from a romantic comedy standpoint. Usually, a woman either ditches her stodgy old flame for the new man who truly understands her OR she tests the waters with a dashing newcomer but later realizes that the original lover was the better choice. Here, Julia connects with the dashing newcomer…and then she stays with the stodgy old flame, even though he’s still the less appealing of the two men. It’s a point of ambivalence for the audience: we realize that Julia should and will stay with the bishop, but it’s so much easier to root for Dudley, even if it’s inappropriate (and he’s a heavenly being, which I’m trying to ignore).

Furthermore, the script addresses the fact that the bishop and the townspeople are scandalized by the friendship, but nobody seems to think that the audience might agree. There’s the feeling that somebody should say something, or that either Julia or Dudley needs to acknowledge that maybe the bishop has reason to be upset, but the movie generally glosses over those concerns. Toward the end, it’s finally implied that Dudley may have fallen in love with Julia, but the ninety minutes before that are a vaguely unsettling series of flirtations, situations that anybody who’s ever been in a relationship would recognize as inappropriate. The movie might make more sense if it didn’t require us to believe in the ignorance of the main characters, or if it addressed the awkwardness and worked through it.

Aside from the strange dynamics between Dudley, Julia, and the bishop, The Bishop’s Wife is a solid holiday classic: nothing fancy, but there is plenty of snow and talk of Santa and the obligatory un-Scrooging of a main character, and that’s kind of the point.

The upshot: A decent, old-fashioned Christmas movie; worth seeing if you can ignore the elephant in the room.

The rules: I throw out a quotation, and you all scramble to identify the movie, character and actor. Winner gets my eyelashes batted at him or her, and a special CH cheer. If nobody gets it, I’ll reveal the answer next Thursday. Here goes:

“It’s not a lie. It’s a gift for fiction. ”

Take it away!

Nominations for the 2007 Golden Globe Awards are up.

Welcome to awards season, folks!

Many, many thoughts to follow in the days and weeks to come. In the mean time: Twice the Leonardo = twice the fun? Talk amongst yourselves.

Pre-Oscar Christmas
rush means so many movies
and so little time.

I have one question for Christopher Paolini: How do you write a novel at fifteen and then get John Malkovich to appear in the movie? I’m just curious. I mean, not that I’m trying to write a novel, or anything. And of course I’d die of embarrassment if anybody wanted to commit my writing to film. I’d just die! Really, don’t even try.

Ahem. Anyway. The film adaptation of Paolini’s first and only complete novel, Eragon, will be released this Friday, probably to hordes audiences of pale teenage boys (capes optional). I personally won’t be seeing it, not because of the boys so much as the trailer. Now, I don’t have a problem with fantasy stories. I have no beef with dragons, fairies (excuse me, faeries), wizards, parallel universes, stable boys called to great destinies, feasts, mead, or ladies in filmy, floaty, and mysteriously revealing dresses. I do, however, have beef with solemnly bad movies, and Eragon doesn’t look as if it’s doing its genre any credit through original plotting, deep characterization, or even spectacular fun. It looks to me like it’s treading water with a plot we’ve seen eighteen times before, characters borrowed from other stories (seriously…King Hrothgar?), and visuals that won’t impress the average thirteen-year-old (especially if he’s seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy as many times as I suspect he has). If I’m going to do fantasy, I want it to be true to the spirit of the genre. I want it to do something that isn’t done anywhere else, to show me something I haven’t seen before, to make something magical. If it can’t be good, I want it to at least be fun. And I don’t see that in Eragon.

But if you’d send Malkovich my way, we’ll talk, okay?