December 26th, I got up early, felt yucky, and went back to sleep after having a cup of coffee. At 12:15pm, Abby came in and asked me if I was still planning on taking the girls to see Despereaux. Of course!
The Tale of Despereaux was better than I expected, but not quite as good as I had hoped for. It features beautiful animation and backgrounds and is truly laudable in its portrayal of virtue, but it fails to be fully satisfying due to some hasty plot developments and quick plot resolution. I honestly felt cheated. The world that was created and presented to us was more than rich enough to be inhabited much more fully than was done. Still, Despereaux was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, but not substantive enough to want to revisit.
By evening, I was starting to feel much better and was even able to eat some. I started thinking about other movies that I could see. If one film made me feel better, maybe a steady diet of the same would heal me completely. I quickly booked a double feature at the local megaplex, arranged for babysitting from the grandfolk, and took my lovely bride out for a night at the cinema.
First, Gran Torino. By far, my favorite Clint Eastwood film so far. I don't know what Eastwood's personal beliefs are, but here he has made the most honestly pro-Catholic film in recent memory. It beats the proverbial hell out of Gibson's Passion. Not only does it feature the most clearly positive portrayal of a priest this side of Karl Malden's Father Barry, but, also, the character of Walt Kowalski becomes a shining example, appropriate for this Christmas season, of light in the darkness, ultimately called to play out a passion of his own. It is Eastwood's genius (and, of course, to the credit of screenwriter Schenk) to set this light in the heart of a man who uses every racial epithet you can think of (and probably a few you've never thought of), drinks too much, smokes too much, feels too little, and is generally an equal opportunity crank. The film almost feels like a loving pair of middle fingers, one pointed at a world that has forgotten the Good News of reconciliation (and the moral and family obligations that that brings), the other pointed at a Church that may have a hard time digesting a film (and, by extension, a world) with so much surface obscenity.
Next, Slumdog Millionaire. This is the film that finally taught me to hate a certain narrative device. I now firmly declare that I instantly hate any film that uses any sort of flashback device to present the viewer with a frame (or sequence) from earlier in the film to reinforce whatever sequence was just presented onscreen. I am not stupid. Most of the audience is not stupid. Please, Danny Boyle, you can trust us to remember something that you showed us an hour and a half ago. Don't show it to me again. Please, don't. That was my plea. All in vain. Besides that pet peeve, Millionaire was frustrating in its presentation of this boy winning a magic ticket out of a slummy life. I'm sure that there's an interesting movie waiting to be made about a slumdog, maybe even one who becomes a millionaire, but this isn't it. I enjoyed Millionaire enough to see what charms it has, but not enough to be won over by them.
Now, it's Saturday, and I'm plotting a way to see either Doubt or Benjamin Button before this vacation is over.
Finally, Brandon, I've now seen all of Flight of the Red Balloon, and I do think that you need to revisit it. Maybe it is overrated, but that doesn't keep it from being quite good.
4 comments:
Hey John,
I'm glad that you've been posting more often. I'm also extremely relieved to read another positive Turino review. The negative reviews are as unconvincing as any in recent history, would you agree?
As for Slumdog, I'm also tired of that narrative device or gimmick. I'm certainly looking forward to this one but I can honestly say that Boyle shouldn't feel duped into suiting lazy audience's expectations. I hope that the film's supposed overflow of optimism is strong enough to carry it through. Boyle has nothing to prove to me and he can certainly afford to slip up.
Speaking of slipping up, Fincher continues to prove why he's one of the most polarizing directors alive with Benjamin Button. I'll wait and see what you think before I elaborate. I'm certainly going to write a long entry on it soon.
Shotgun Stories joins Happy Go Lucky and Let the Right One In in my best surprises award. It reminds me a lot of George Washington as well as Bottle Rocket. Maybe typical and inaccurate descriptions, but it's honestly all I got.
It's great to hear from you.
Renee is a bitch
Hey, thanks for commenting. I've been waiting for some feedback. I'll definitely keep posting if I know at least one person is reading.
I'm anxious to read what you thought of Benjamin Button. I didn't get a chance to see it, but hope to do so soon.
Shotgun Stories is actually on the way to my mailbox as I type this. Netflix sent me an email informing me that I should expect it to arrive Friday.
Now, I'm going to pick on Slumdog Millionaire a little bit more here.
In general, the framing device (Who Wants to be a Millionaire?) doesn't work for me. While being tortured/interrogated, our protagonist explains how he knew the answers to these specific tough questions. Each question asked (coincidentally, no! it is written!) relates directly to an important period of personal growth in his life. We, the audience, are treated to the appropriate flashback story that illuminates the answer to the present question being discussed.
The problem with this is that it works. I know that doesn't sound like a problem. A story is developed, but only as a set of connected series of related vignettes, giving us the impression that we need to advance the story, connecting the dots, but not much more than what's on the surface.
The problem is that if the artificiality introduced by the gameshow framework was dropped away, the story wouldn't cohere. There's not enough linking the bits to make a whole. That's why some shape of "whole" is encompassed in so many questions of a game. It's a cheap storytelling alternative to telling a straightforward tale, which is something much harder to do. For all of the comparisons to Dickens, I'm afraid that this script lacks Charlie's knack for telling it straight.
Gran Torino, on the other hand, is an absolute joy.
Hiya,
I'd like to see that Eastwood flick but I have my doubts about Doubt, as it were, after hearing an interview with P.S. Hoffman. Color me oversensitive, but I just don't like the (apparent) stereotyping. I have many friends who've entered (or are entering) monasteries and the priesthood and nary-a-one is anything like you'd see in a Hollywood treatment of Catholicism.
As happenstance would have it, though, I've been to the old convent in the Bronx where some Doubt was shot. It's an island of tranquility in a slightly-sketchy neighborhood.
In other film news, I had the supreme misfortune of having Seven Pounds thrown at my retinas the other day. The title, evidently, comes from how much "dark material" one would need to make a diaper sag and drag as much as that plot did.
I've not seen a good flick in a while.
~ Scott Wilkins
Scott, it's really good to hear from you. It was funny running into Alice and Hillary on their way down to see you.
How far are you from NYC? You've got a wealth of great movies playing in the big city, only a train ride away.
I also have my doubts about Doubt, but I'm hoping to catch it when I can.
I'm sorry about Seven Pounds. I haven't heard many good things said about it, and you've certainly reinforced my decision to stay away.
I do hope you see Gran Torino when it plays near you. I also hope that you'll come back here and let me know what you thought.
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