Half-Assed Movie Reviews

January 9, 2011: Never Let Me Go

Despite the fact that I persist in mixing up this film with Let Me In (which itself is a remake of Let the Right One In – you can perhaps understand my confusion), I managed to find Never Let Me Go and watched it with my wife at her request.  Based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, well-known for The Remains of the Day which was also turned into a film back in 1993, this is a strange and fascinating story which snuck up on me and really made me think.  It’s impossible to give this film any kind of analysis without some spoilers, but I’ll try to keep them minimal.

The introduction is uplifting and yet it hints at major unrest, as we learn that in this alternate universe of 1950s Britain, a medical breakthrough was made and life expectancies started to go through the roof, surpassing 100 years by the time 20 years had passed since the breakthrough.  Knowing that, we are suddenly dropped into a story about a group of young kids at a boarding school in the late 1970s.  Of the characters introduced, Cathy is clearly the smart and observant but quiet one, Ruth is more outgoing and gets what she wants, and Tommy is a socially outcast boy who hasn’t yet found his place in life.  Everything proceeds day-to-day but clearly all is not quite as it seems, and eventually one of the teachers at the school tells the kids in plain english that they are being raised solely to serve as organ donors.

As we flash forward into the young adulthood of these kids (at which point the principal characters begin to be played by Carey Mulligan, Keira Knightley and Andrew Garfield), details of the so-called National Donor Programme are explained, with the opportunity for “carers” to provide moral support for donors for a few years before becoming donors themselves, and “completion” referring to the end of a donor’s life, typically after three or four donations depending on what organs were needed.  Once this is spelled out for the viewer, all the things that didn’t quite make sense in the beginning become horrifyingly crystal clear.

Of course, there’s plenty to consider here, and there’s a surprising range of possibilities one’s brain can come up with as to how this might play out.  What is happening seems to be in contradiction with the moral and equitable treatment of people, but also has distressing parallels to how we treat our fellow creatures on this planet and indeed how many treat their fellow humans.  Are these kids in fact “real” people, and how eagerly will society declare that they are not, if an additional 20 years of life depend on that answer?  The kids seem resigned to their fate rather than outraged as we might expect, but is it really so far removed from the effective slavery of the poverty-stricken people in the world today, living among the wealthy and simply accepting their fate?  And on the other hand, are the lives of these kids really limited to being any less rich and fulfilling than those of anyone else, just because they are destined to die young?  The film’s ultimate position is that we all die, and making the most of the time we have is the important thing.

Ah, but does a great little sci-fi concept make for a great movie?  Well, first of all, wrapping it up in a British period piece knocks out the obvious comparisons with most other sci-fi classics.  The setting is appropriate and likely deliberate since the timing matches up with early organ transplant achievements, and what we see is an interpretation of a different path a government may have taken when this technology became available.  The line between human and animal is blurred, bringing to mind our tolerance for the use of animals in the pursuit of improving our health.  Societal class lines are explored by this addition of another, lower class of people who are technically considered non-people but who interact with others in the world and have their own feelings and relationships.  All of these points got me thinking and talking about the film, and I have to respect that.  The only significant quibble I have is one which I tend to have with any such alternate universe stories, in which everything else is assumed to be much as it otherwise is now (cars, homes, popular culture) when in fact the ripple effect of the change in question would have to be wider.  I expressed a similar reservation about The Invention of Lying, a film which presumed that society would be otherwise largely unchanged if people were incapable of lying.  To be fair, in Never Let Me Go, I expect the ripple effects would be much smaller, but I still think they should have been explored more.

What we have here is a film which definitely made me think, based on a book which likely would have had the same effect, produced and acted nicely if not really grabbing the subject and squeezing it for all it’s worth.  I’d definitely recommend Never Let Me Go to anyone interested in the exploration of a sci-fi concept, and I’d tell them to embrace the meticulous period setting.

Dehumanization from their point of view.

January 6, 2011:  Stone

From the tense opening flashback scene through the desperate and deliberate changes in character of a prisoner to the indiscretions of a parole review officer, Stone flirts with being something greater than the sum of its parts.  It almost makes it, but I don’t think it quite manages it in the end.

Nonetheless, watching Robert De Niro spar with Edward Norton makes it worth the price of admission, with both men working mostly inside their comfort zones but bringing enough zeal to their standard characters that a viewer who isn’t expecting a masterpiece can’t help but be entertained and impressed.  In this classic match-up between a convicted felon and the authority figure who holds his freedom in the balance, “Stone” (Norton) at first seems to be trying to figure out what he needs to do in order to convince Jack (De Niro) to let him out of prison.  After establishing his irreverence with a bunch of sex talk to try and dominate the conversation with the ultra-conservative and religious Jack, Stone begins to research religions, has his wife (Milla Jovovich) make inappropriate advances, and on occasion even comes close to telling the truth about his crimes.  Jack, at the same time, is struggling with the conflicting values in the life he leads, and moves frighteningly closer to acting as the criminal we know he is inside, even as Stone starts to believe what he’s reading and appears to find inner peace.  But both of these men are so close to that edge, the crossover between good and bad, that even they can’t figure out whether or not what they feel is real, much less have a clue about whether the claims of the other may be genuine.

So we have a fascinating battle, but it’s hampered a bit by the weak filmmaking around it.  The church vs. sex imagery and scenarios are too obviously overwritten.  De Niro’s (as Jack) caricatured mannerisms are sometimes distracting.  Jack’s throwing caution to the wind with mere weeks to go before retirement strains credibility.  Norton (as Stone) almost seems at times like he’s reprising his dual-mode character from Primal Fear (1996) rather than stretching himself.  But on the other hand, I was impressed with how the film came around in the end.  With 20 minutes to go, I feared a Hollywood-style ending with a bunch of people running around with guns and several of them getting shot.  However, the actual ending is much more appropriate and true-to-life, with everyone going on with their broken lives, a wise acknowledgement that while big crises don’t usually end up with people dead, they quite often do leave a pile of lonely and devastated people who can’t simply rebuild their lives overnight, or perhaps ever.  This is a great strength of Stone, and one which tips it into positive territory for me, though I wouldn’t strongly recommend the film.

Acting greats work with middling material.

December 29, 2010:  Mamma Mia

I hadn’t necessarily planned to see Mamma Mia (2008), but I had been intrigued, since I like ABBA music as much as any other person even though nobody is allowed to admit it for some reason.  The DVD turned out to be available for everyone to watch when we were staying with family over the holidays.  Mamma Mia doesn’t turn out to be anything greater than what you might expect of it, but it has some surprisingly genuine moments, and the lively music and compact run-time make this one OK.

Based on the stage play of the same name and populated by a ridiculous number of snippets of ABBA songs, the film is far from flawless, from the stagey conceit of the main story (a daughter about to marry, who secretly invites to her wedding the three men who may be her father based on her sneak peeks at her mother’s diary) to the awkward misunderstandings and slapstick shenanigans as they try to keep the secret from the mother until the wedding day and the daughter tries to get to know the three men and figure out which one is actually her father.  But the story wisely decides in the end to let go of the answer to that question, and everyone is having enough fun and learning enough about themselves that the whole thing comes off as being more heartwarming than it has the right to be.

The anchoring presence of Meryl Streep goes a long way in making this all work, as the labouring single mom (she runs a resort hotel in a Greek island paradise, which makes for a conveniently amazing backdrop) who just wants the best for her daughter while forgetting that doing the best for herself would help things a lot.  Reunited with former beaus Stellan Skarsgård, Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth and remembering old times with them, she clearly had (and still has) her pick of the available men, and begins to wonder whether the things that broke them up were really as devastating as she originally thought, and perhaps her standards were unrealistically high.  Seeing her daughter heading perhaps in the opposite direction and marrying very young, Streep really isn’t enthusiastic about the wedding until she comes around to realizing that perhaps young love can be real and is worth sticking with.

So people have lots of side conversations, and folks are hidden away in secret rooms to avoid being discovered by others, and none of it is very realistic and it’s all pretty hokey but it’s fun enough.  The ABBA music lends itself well to a musical production, since there are a bunch of catchy big hits to keep the energy level up but the group’s catalogue is big enough that there’s a song or a lyric to cover just about any sentiment which needs to be dealt with.  The film at times can’t decide whether or not it wants to go “full slapstick”, and wisely mostly stays away from it, but this does make the whole thing in a way somewhat more awkward because we’re asked to take some contrived situations more at face value than we should have to.  The mercifully short running time tempers most of these issues, so before you start to think too much about it, everyone is with who they should be with and a wedding has happened and it all turned out OK.  Mamma Mia was more than the little timewaster I expected it to be, but not enough more that I’ll dispute anyone’s negative reviews of it.  Oh, and Pierce Brosnan’s singing was indeed as bad as you heard it was.

Streep could bring weight to feathers.

December 15, 2010:  The King’s Speech

The King’s Speech is an Oscar front-runner for Colin Firth’s (aka Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy, as many people love him best) lead performance as the man who became King George VI of England (I’ll just call him George throughout this review for simplicity’s sake).  A sensitively-told but difficult story of how his stuttering affected all aspects of his life and how he had to deal with it as a monarch in a time of frequent radio broadcasts, I quite enjoyed the film but I might not recommend it to those who don’t want anything to do with stuffy period pieces.

Of course it’s much more than that, as those who give it a chance will see.  Indeed this is a period piece, but members of the royal family are portrayed as real people instead of the figureheads the world expects them to be.  Humour penetrates the social protocols and risks are taken by royal and commoner alike, leading to the mutual respect which can only come from people challenging each other to improve themselves through shared difficult experiences.  Firth as the struggling royal and Geoffrey Rush as his speech therapist form the core of the film, with Helena Bonham Carter as George’s wife providing the glue to hold these two men together until her husband realizes how necessary it is.

George knows that he struggles with speech, not only when speaking to his nation on the radio as he is called to do on occasion as a young adult, but even within his own family.  Touching yet heartbreaking scenes with his two daughters, one of whom would go on to be the currently reigning Queen Elizabeth II, show how George can’t even tell his kids a story without a great deal of difficulty, but he resolutely makes these efforts in order to break the cycle of royal coldness which his parents have inflicted upon him, an approach where protocol trumps humanity.  Evidence of this upbringing comes in a couple of scenes with George and his father (George V, played here by Michael Gambon, and who wouldn’t feel overpowered by having Hogwarts head honcho Albus Dumbledore for a father?), including one in which George struggles with a rehearsal for a radio speech and his father tries to be encouraging but ultimately berates his son for just not trying hard enough.  In another striking example of this too-rigid parenting, when George’s father dies and his older brother therefore immediately becomes king, the poor soul (Edward VIII for those keeping score, but really an immature young man who never wished for royal responsibility) begins to cry and turns to his mother for a hug, and she briskly curtsies and calls him “your majesty” and glowers at him for his weakness in crying at his own father’s death.  Fortunately for George, he doesn’t expect to be exposed to this sort of shame since he never expects to become king.  When Edward VIII makes the shocking choice of his own romance over the monarchy and abdicates the throne in 1936, George is thrust into the spotlight and his ongoing speech therapy becomes even more critical as the nation draws ever nearer to war with Germany and a great many more radio speeches are on the horizon.

Complicated though that might sound, it’s actually an interesting story and one which comes closer than usual to holding some relevance to the modern generation.  Of course, the story isn’t particularly well known to the casual royal observer so there’s plenty of exposition scattered through the film and while it’s sometimes a bit too obvious, it’s undeniably required and generally well presented.  Edward VIII is portrayed by Guy Pearce as the flawed individual he is, but the screenplay gives due respect to the man’s passions and personal decisions, almost daring to pose the obvious question as to whether he would be so reviled if he didn’t happen to be born into a situation of privilege and power for which he didn’t ask.  Geoffrey Rush brings his wit and integrity to a character who must have commanded plenty of both in order to gain the respect of a future king who came to him under duress.  And Colin Firth, who usually has his authoritative but sensitive voice to call upon with which to create his characters, is nearly silenced here and forced to make those emotive eyes work overtime, a technique known to bring sympathetic Oscar gold but well-deserved in this case.  There’s also a bit of a Pride and Prejudice (1995 miniseries) reunion here as Colin Firth (Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice) is joined by Jennifer Ehle (Elizabeth Bennet) and David Bamber (Mr. Collins) in small parts.

The King’s Speech does a terrific job of portraying the weight of royal duty and how the power it conveys is not always desired, contrary to the traditional notion of backstabbing and chicanery in order to move up the line of succession, a habit which was more prevalent a few hundred years ago.  Worthy of note is that while the events portrayed in this film occurred for the most part about 75 years ago, they don’t seem nearly so distant as that because George VI was the previous monarch to the one sitting on the throne today.  Elizabeth II has been Queen since George’s death in 1952, and like her father, she had the monarchy thrust upon her (and at a much younger age) when in fact her immediate family might rightfully have expected to be bypassed entirely if Edward VIII had remained king and had a son or two.  George VI battled his weaknesses in order to be the best king he could be, prevailing in the second world war and reigning through a difficult time for the British Empire following the war.  His daughter continues to do her royal duty while likely yearning for the more private life she may have preferred to lead.  Much more than just a run-of-the-mill royal family drama, The King’s Speech packs some great performances and tells a story of real people trying to uphold their responsibility in the world.

Speaking of upholding responsibility, it’s also worthwhile to note that this film was originally written many years ago, but the script was shelved until after the death of the queen mother (Elizabeth II’s mother and George’s wife) at her request, because the events were still so close and painful for her.  Little did writer David Seidler realize how long he would have to wait, as the queen mother lived to be 101 years old, but it sounds like things came together nicely in the end and the memory of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon was properly respected.

Oscar bait but well worth it.

December 11, 2010:  Tootsie

I had been talking recently with my wife about revisiting two opposite-gender impersonation films from roughly the same era, Tootsie and Victor Victoria.  It turns out they were released in the same year (1982) and we started the comparison on this evening with Tootsie.  I’ve always been a fan but hadn’t seen it in a while, so I was looking forward to seeing it again, and I was not disappointed.

Tootsie stars Dustin Hoffman as a struggling actor who dresses up as a woman in order to land a soap opera part, throwing his life into complete chaos as he has to juggle the different stories he has told to his best friend, his agent, his girlfriend, his new love interest, and his new love interest’s father who has taken a liking to him as a woman.  A number of ideas are explored, including integrity, chauvinism, homophobia, and love.

I think Tootsie is often thought of as a lightweight comedy, what with the likes of Bill Murray, Geena Davis, Teri Garr, and Dabney Coleman in supporting roles along with director Sydney Pollack hamming it up as Hoffman’s agent.  However, it actually is fairly weighty and progressive for its time, even as it takes a deftly lighthanded approach to the telling of its story.  It nearly gets to slapstick a couple of times with silly misunderstandings, but that angle is not played up like it was in Mrs. Doubtfire (1993).  Pollack is not afraid to acknowledge the obvious comic aspects of a man dressing up as a woman and hiding it from most of the people in his life, but at the same time he doesn’t disrespect the subject matter, as Hoffman begins to notice the discrimination faced by women in the world, from the dismissive treatment by men to the sometimes torturous process of selecting clothes and getting dressed.  The quality of the filmmaking and the earnest intent of the story did not go unnoticed at Oscar time, with Jessica Lange winning the Supporting Actress award and the film being nominated for a bunch of other big awards, including Dustin Hoffman with his fifth Best Actor nomination (he had won once before for 1979’s Kramer vs. Kramer) and Sydney Pollack for directing and producing (he would go on to victory in 1985 for Out of Africa).  Tootsie is one of the standout films from 1982, and incidentally looks great in widescreen, having been butchered in pan-and-scan showings on TV for decades.

One unfortunate point which keeps sticking with me is how the ending doesn’t really come around full circle and reflect the lessons of the film.  Hoffman is misleading all the staff at the TV show as well as his girlfriend, ostensibly just to make enough money to be able to mount his friend’s play so that he and his girlfriend can act in it.  His alter ego, as “she” stands up against chauvinism at the workplace and boldly ad-libs her dialogue in the show to be more feminist and progressive, is ironically held up as a shining example of integrity even as “her” entire existence is a lie.  Of course there’s the scene with the big reveal during a live broadcast and after that all hell breaks loose including Hoffman losing his new love interest (played by Lange).  He tries to get her back and she refuses, but in the end she relents, and their reunion doesn’t quite ring true because earlier he hurt her and completely violated her trust.  On the other hand, though, I suppose I should acknowledge that it isn’t necessary to hold such permanent grudges against people, so maybe I personally grew just a little bit in my contemplation of what this ending meant.

Tootsie is an undeniable modern classic, and much more than just a silly cross-dressing comedy.  Its stars include well-established thespians as well as a number of folks who were just getting their feet wet in cinema, and it all comes together nicely under the direction of the late Sydney Pollack.  It was great to revisit this one.

Socially conscious comedy and drama together.