Jackie

 

JACKIE          B+                  

USA  Chile  France  (99 mi)  2016                 Official site

Don’t let it be forgot,

That once there was a spot,

For one brief shining moment

That was known as Camelot.

—Camelot, sung by Richard Burton, words and music by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederik Loewe, 1960, "Camelot" w/ Richard Burton - YouTube (2:31)

While Pablo Larraín has been a lauded and perhaps overrated filmmaker, where his two recent films No (2011) and The Club (El Club) (2015) have been controversial and provocative, yet they have failed to deliver on the artistic promise expected from critically acclaimed filmmaking, where one questioned whether greatness lies within him.  Surprisingly, and perhaps uniquely, this ruminating biopic on Jackie Kennedy in the four days following the assassination of her husband in November 1963 is a superb piece of filmmaking, among the better films seen all year, the director’s first venture in the English language, where perhaps this is the first time all the pieces fit together, starting with a towering performance from Natalie Portman, arguably the best in her career, following brilliant work with Terrence Malick in Knight of Cups (2015) where her brief but elevated performance was among the film’s high points, a creatively insightful script written by Noah Oppenheim, told in a fragmented manner, highlighting all the interior moments kept away from the cameras and never seen or imagined before, beautifully edited by Sebastián Sepúlveda in what is arguably the best edited film of the year, all held together by a bombastic musical score written by Mica Levi that superbly adds a somber, funereal flourish, yet also expansive symphonic reach that adds an experimental, avant garde element to the film.  On top of that, the cinematography by Stéphane Fontaine is exquisite, beautifully combining the external and interior moods that were haunting the First Lady, where the film reaches into the depths of the moment, perhaps only as film can examine, retracing one of the most historic moments in American history.  The film is framed by a Life magazine interview taking place a week afterwards by Theodore H. White (Billy Crudup) at the vast but empty Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, where Mrs. Kennedy makes it clear she’ll be controlling what gets printed, scrutinizing the reporter’s notes, amusingly offering stories that she later indicates is not for public record, resulting in a surprisingly poignant essay ("For President Kennedy: An Epilogue," by Theodore H. White, Life, 6 ...) that continues to resonate to this day based on its historic impact, as the First Lady was the first to elegantly frame President John F. Kennedy’s legacy, beautifully reaching a chord desperately needed by a country reeling at the time, establishing the myth that will forever be associated with her husband, often referred to as the Camelot era.

Previously the best characterization of Jackie Kennedy came from actress Parker Posey in the outrageously delightful The House of Yes (1997), a film that superimposes her own fictitious images over Jackie Kennedy’s infamous tour of the White House, A Tour of the White House with Mrs. John F. Kennedy - YouTube (57:37) before delving into one of the sickest bits of satire ever conceived on film.  Now we have Natalie Portman showing a different side of the First Lady, brushing up on history, asking for historical expertise on Abraham Lincoln’s funeral, then designing her own husband’s funeral in a similar fashion, insisting upon the same specifics.  During a period when women’s rights and opinions were largely ignored, it’s amazing to think that Jackie Kennedy’s elaborately historic funeral plans for JFK were implemented right down to the last detail, while at the same time her profound dignity on display during a moment of national trauma remains one of the treasured moments in American history, where she personified grace under pressure.  Legendary Greek actress Irene Papas noticeably channeled her behavior in the Costa-Gavras political suspense thriller Z (1969), winner of the Best Foreign Film, when right-wing generals along with a police chief staged an assassination of her husband to gain political power in Greece.  This film is a look behind the scenes at the private moments where her mood vacillated between unspeakable strength and a crippling anguish, becoming a powerful, yet intimate portrait of a very public grief.  Portman is outstanding in the role, literally owning the picture from start to finish, capturing a wounded soul rising to the occasion with a tempered intelligence, displaying a previously unseen confidence and depth of character, elevating to new heights in her career as she literally treads new ground, imagining how the First Lady might have handled tricky situations, relying upon the help of the President’s brother Robert Kennedy (Peter Sarsgaard) and her personal assistant Nancy Tuckerman (Greta Gerwig).  Additionally the film is an undeniable technical achievement, from the brilliant cinematography to the mournful musical score that is completely in sync with the changing moods, yet the art direction by Jean Rabasse couldn’t feel more precisely accurate, taking us inside the White House, including the upstairs bedrooms where the public has always been excluded.

The delicacy of the situation occurs after a new President is sworn in, looking forward to running the country, but continually forced to look backwards as well for the last vestiges remaining of old business.  It’s here that Portman literally provides new territory, as we’ve never had a look at the First Lady behind the scenes, where she’s not seen as some meek, grieving widow, but an authoritative figure barking out instructions for people to follow, where she is an undeniable Lady Macbethian force to be reckoned with.  At the same time, she is the one who must tell the news to their two small children, Caroline and John Jr., that their father won’t be coming home anymore, where she goes to great lengths to include them openly in the family affairs while at the same time protecting them.  Moving back and forth in fragmented storytelling, the film offers a highly personalized window into something we’ve never seen before, and does so with an extraordinary complexity, where we hear her question herself in voiceover whether her decision for such a public funeral was for her husband or more for herself.  As we relive the traumatic moments of the assassination, a few rare moments stand out, like wiping the blood from her face aboard Air Force One after it happened, or tearfully cleaning herself up afterwards before crawling into bed, and later wandering in a sedated daze, going from room to room in the White House while listening to the title song from the musical Camelot, exposing her privacy in a place she so proudly helped restore, recalling her elegant tour of the White House that doubled as a history lesson, but now she would be forced to leave, where there is pressure by the new administration to move into their new quarters.  While she is emotionally shattered by the experience, agonizing over decisions to be made, she is ever mindful of her husband’s legacy, taking great care to help frame it in a positive light, where we get a glimpse of her dignity, intelligence, and heartbreak all at once.  One of the more intriguing devices is the use of an Irish Catholic priest, Father Richard McSorley (John Hurt) as the First Lady’s personal confidante, literally walking her through the funeral in anguished reflection before his burial, discussing her rage and philosophical doubts, including a startling revelation of her husband’s infidelities, often viewed in close-ups, where their long walks together add a previously unexplored spiritual dimension that hovers over the occasion, adding unique personal insight to the event.  Perhaps the most remarkable quality, however, is the emotional vividness of the film, where we’re able to see the piercing vulnerability of the First Lady during a time of great emotional sorrow, yet also her steely resolve as she strives to find a way out of the emotional labyrinth she finds herself stuck behind, where it’s a surprise to find a Chilean director explore what is quintessentially an American story with such relevance and artistic insight.    

Only Lovers Left Alive

ONLY LOVERS LEFT ALIVE           B                   
Great Britain  Germany  (123 mi)  2013  d:  Jim Jarmusch           Official site

I’m more of a Stax girl, myself.            —Eve (Tilda Swinton)

Typical of what’s happening today in the movie industry, Jim Jarmusch indicated this film was seven years in the making due to an inability to obtain funds to make the movie, as American backers dropped out, so he had to search for European financing.  And while Tilda Swinton and John Hurt were onboard throughout the lengthy ordeal, Michael Fassbender was eventually replaced by Tom Hiddleston, where it’s impossible to think of the film without him, as Hiddleston’s imprint is all over this film, especially the slowed down pace of lethargy that captures the creepy feel of vampire characters that have lived for centuries.  Hiddleston plays a worldly vampire with connections to a centuries earlier golden age in science, literature, music, and the arts, once friends with Schubert, and authors Shelley and Byron, now a depressed underground musician, aka Adam, whose spacey, mournfully hypnotic music Only lovers left alive | Adam's music YouTube (1:49) played on retro equipment brings back opium-induced thoughts of the hallucinogenic world of APOCALYPSE NOW (1979) and is reminiscent of an earlier 60’s era of Lou Reed with the Velvet Underground, yet he plays the part of a reclusive rock star who makes psychedelic new music while in hiding, much like Mick Jagger as Turner in Nicolas Roeg’s PERFORMANCE (1970).  Only Gus van Sant’s LAST DAYS (2005) captures the same dreary mood, a portrait of a suicidal Cobain-like musician’s final days where nothing much happens, but he similarly retreats from reality and ignores everyone, lost in a haze of oblivion.  This atmospheric funk is beautifully realized by Jarmusch’s choice to shoot the film in the empty ruins of the economically ravaged Detroit, which he calls “a decimated city.”  Truly representative of a city in decay, we return to constant images of empty downtown streets and the remnants of an industrial wasteland, where the residents feel like ghostly inhabitants of a once thriving city.  Living in a dilapidated Victorian house in a deserted area on the outskirts of town, looking like the morbid set for a Halloween movie, Adam collects vintage electric guitars, builds his own underground electronic grid, but also has various electronics memorabilia like a 50’s TV, a 70’s phone, while playing classic turnstyle LP records like Charlie Feathers “Can't Hardly Stand It” CHARLIE FEATHERS Can't Hardly Stand It - YouTube (2:52). 

On the other side of the globe living in Tangiers, with the streets cast in a golden hue, is Adam’s wife Eve (Tilda Swinton), a collector of books in every language, which she’s able to fathom simply by running her fingers over the pages.  Dressed in a hijab covering her hair and neck, Eve literally glides through the empty streets ignoring the men popping out of dark corners promising “We’ve got what you want,” as she proceeds to a near empty café where she meets fellow vampire Marlowe (John Hurt), Shakespeare’s contemporary and her longtime lover/confidante who hoards his secret that he secretly penned Shakespeare’s works, while also being her blood supplier, offering her a taste of “the good stuff.”  These vampires have long ago sworn off attacking human victims, who they call “zombies,” claiming they’ve tainted the blood supply with their careless lifestyles and reckless disregard for their health.  Adam has a black market procurer (Jeffrey Wright) in the blood supply section of the hospital, where he arrives with a large wad of cash dressed in a doctor’s gown posing as Dr. Faust or Dr. Caligari, where getting their fix is like feeding a heroin habit, as they’re seen going through a rush of euphoria, with fangs starting to protrude.  Adam uses Ian (Anton Yelchin), in awe of the man’s genius and one of his biggest fans, but also a naïve stoner kid as his Renfield, a go-between to the outside world, while also using him, no questions asked, to track down hard-to-find specialty items, like vintage guitars or recording equipment, and even a specially-made wooden bullet.  When Eve realizes the extent of his deep gloom, she decides to board to flight to Detroit, packing Dostoyevsky and David Foster Wallace, wasting no opportunity as they reminisce about their glory years, as Adam recalls when they hung out with Byron, “a pompous bore,” or wrote an Adagio movement for Schubert, and recalls with affection meeting Mary Shelley.  When asked what she was like, Adam snarls “She was delicious.”  Not since SID AND NANCY (1986) have we seen such a dreamily lethargic and quietly disengaged couple, where he drives her through the empty streets of Detroit at night, past the deserted Roxy Theater and the Michigan Theatre, which is now used as a parking lot, where they seem alone in the vast desolation of boarded up warehouses and factories.  “How can you have lived for so long, and still not get it?” she reminds him.  “This self-obsession is a waste of living.  That could be spent on surviving things, appreciating nature, nurturing kindness and friendship… and dancing!”  Suggesting he might show her the Motown studios, she responds, “I’m more of a Stax girl, myself,” grabbing her partner off the couch as she chooses to play a Denise LaSalle song, “Trapped by a Thing Called Love” Only Lovers Left Alive - Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton dancing YouTube (2:00), which just happened to be released on the Detroit-based Westbound Records label. 

Shot entirely at night by Yorick le Saux, with an extraordinary score from Josef van Wissem and Jarmusch’s own band Sqürl, Jozef Van Wissem & SQÜRL - The Taste Of Blood YouTube (5:54), where it’s easy to lose yourself in the feedback and trance-like psychedelic guitar sounds where the desolation of the vampire underworld stretches to an endless abyss.  The opening forty minutes or so are riveting and show great promise, but peters out a bit by the end, where the sophistication and urbane wit of Adam and Eve represent a kind of cultured, upper class variety of vampire, where Jarmusch has created a uniquely original, alternate universe existing right alongside the present that sarcastically comments upon the superficiality of the modern era where there’s scarcely a genius left alive, no one to challenge their infinite knowledge, forcing them to withdraw ever further into themselves, yet constantly needing to feed, resembling drug addicts.  The film perks up with the arrival of Eve’s naughty kid sister Ava (Mia Wasikowska), a cute but mischievous brat vampire whose unstoppable impulses are a destructive force of nature, returning to the reckless carnage and instability of youth, bringing nothing but turmoil into their orderly lives.  They make an appearance at an underground music club, hoping to be inconspicuous, but Ava’s continued flirtatiousness draws unwanted attention, where the kick-ass music, however, is White Hills “Under Skin or by Name” White Hills - Under Skin or by Name YouTube (5:40) and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club “Red Eyes and Tears” Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Red Eyes And Tears  YouTube (3:59).  Despite this surge of energy, it’s only a reminder throughout time of family dysfunction and the capacity for humans to destroy the world they live in, which includes, among other things, the contamination of the blood supply.  Of note, John Ajvide Lindqvist’s recent take on the vampire novel, which led to Tomas Alfredson’s film LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (2008), was similarly concerned with the harmful effects of “impure blood.”  This leads to the question of whether vampires can survive under these toxic modern conditions, which, of course, looking at the nearly demolished picture of Detroit, is a question we should be asking ourselves?  How does a city’s destruction, caused by the unconscionable eagerness of people or corporations (like Ava) to thoughtlessly serve only themselves, benefit anyone?  Through the perspective of centuries, we are at a particularly noteworthy crossroads in determining just what kind of future we’ll have, yet Ava’s gratuitous self-centered greed and her childlike refusal to see the bigger picture suggests a dire future, emblematic perhaps of those ineffectual voices currently haggling over world peace, where self interests above everything else certainly places the planet at even greater risk.  Of course, it wouldn’t truly be representative of a Jarmusch vampire format unless the future of the human condition was utterly dismal.

Alien

ALIEN             A                    

USA  Great Britain  (116 mi)  1979  ‘Scope  d:  Ridley Scott      

In space, no one can hear you scream

Ridley Scott’s warm-up for his real masterpiece, Blade Runner (1982), that would come several years later, including similar uses of robots or replicants as well as the infamous rain sequences.  Each deal with the idea of technology run wild, while ALIEN has an extremely subversive view of corporate corruption and deceit, particularly the idea of lying to employees in order to protect top secret military aims, where the lives of employees in outer space are literally owned by the corporation, requiring each to sign a contract to that effect, alleviating the company of all liability in the event something disastrous occurs.  Therein lies the cold-hearted, underlying premise to this story, where reality isn’t what you think it is, as it’s disguised under the lies of an alternative space mission, where only the top officers are aware of the circumstances, so some of the shudders in this film is the degree to which corporate greed is emphasized—very much ahead of its time in that respect.  With several nods to Kubrick’s 2001 (1968), certainly at the center of this premise is a ship computer, known as mother, that no one has access to except the top officers.  The rest are excluded from the chain of command and thereby shielded from the truth of their real mission.  This story concerns an outer space cargo ship that is returning home from a mining expedition, where its passengers are in a scientifically imposed deep sleep, but woken up 10 months before their anticipated arrival time to answer a distress signal on an isolated asteroid where they encounter an alien life form that horrifically makes its way inside their space vessel, eventually picking off the crew one by one.  The pervasive sense of dread turns this into a haunted house story with a monster on the loose, as in no time this crew is lost in the woods with no way out.  

Adapted from a Dan O’Bannon story, who previously wrote the story and screenplay for John Carpenter’s DARK STAR (1974), assisted by Ronald Shusett, with amazing visual effects from H.R. Giger (surrealist alien creator), Carlo Rambaldi (alien head design), Brian Johnson and Nick Allder (special effects), and Denys Ayling (miniature photography), with an extremely elaborate and intricately created set design by Michael Seymour (production design), Leslie Dilley and Roger Christian (art), and Ian Whittaker (set).  From the outset, the camera is the only stirring creature as it slowly moves around corners and gazes at the dark cavernous design of the space ship interior, taking on the attributes of inquisitiveness and curiosity.  When the humans awake to discover their situation, all done by computer (perhaps the most archaic presence in the entire film), there’s an interesting use of improvisation in their conversation, using the Altman style of overlapping dialogue which creates a sense of authenticity in the moment, where soon each of the characters begins to take shape in the eyes of the audience.  The corporate hierarchy (and great cast) is immediately established, where the chief mechanics, the two guys that fix things and make the ship go are on the lowest pay grade (Yaphet Kotto and Harry Dean Stanton as Parker and Brett), while Sigourney Weaver and Veronica Cartwright are Ripley and Lambert, the middle management officers under John Hurt (Kane), commanded by chief science officer Ian Holm (Ash), and ship commander Tom Skerritt (Dallas).  For openers, the engineers complain they’re not getting equal shares of the bonus pay for the work they’re doing, while in no time, Ash reminds them of a hidden clause in their contract that if they fail to carry out their mission, as assigned, they will forfeit all wages.  So immediately they are put in their place by the ship foremen, where life in outer space resembles the same working conditions on earth of an overworked and underpaid work force.  But that similarity ends as soon as they explore the asteroid, where with shuddering efficiency, there is a stunning violation of standard protocol as they allow the alien to enter their ship. 

What immediately becomes noticeable is the lazy nonchalance in the way this is handled, and the lack of precaution used.  Anyone with a pet dog or cat, or even a bird, knows the care one uses to keep them from escaping out of the house—by closing the windows and doors behind you.  This crew routinely leaves doors open allowing the alien free access to their entire ship.  And despite the obvious danger to all, when they have it in their possession, no one is assigned to watch it.  So they display a rather casual display of ignorance in their approach to this alien intrusion, all of which takes on even greater significance when the alien grows to monstrous size and slowly starts attacking the crew.  The monster itself, whose appearance is delayed and only gradually seen until the end, is a marvel of grotesque proportion, yet what we remember is the gooey slime it leaves behind and the continually drooling giant teeth, where it stealthily moves mysteriously overhead through the ventilation ducts.  Despite the passage of thirty years, the film still holds up because Scott does an exquisite job conveying a creepy sense of panic and fear and things that go bump in the night, even while most of the horrific violence takes place offscreen, where the body count, quicker edits and dark claustrophobic interior adds to an increasingly developing paranoia on the ship.  The pulsating strobe lights and emergency siren sound loop become almost unbearable as the film races to its spectacular heavy breathing finale, which is an interesting mixture of frantic desperation, matching Weaver’s sensuous vulnerability and cool head against a ghastly beast that obviously uses and consumes humans at will.  In the director’s cut, the added scenes are a nasty confrontation between Lambert and Ripley outside the infirmary, a brief shot of the alien hanging like one of the chains hanging from the ceiling above Brett in the interior rain (from condensation) as he’s looking for the cat, Parker gets Brett’s blood splattered on him as Brett is carried off, and the infamous ‘cocooning’ sequence where humans become stored fuel for the monster.  Along with his next film Blade Runner, Scott has created two of the best sci-fi films ever made and could never have made that film without the meticulous precision shown here working with such extraordinary special effects, creating one of the great monster movies ever, certainly better than all the follow ups which resemble the CGI assault to the senses shown today, a blitzkrieg of explosions and mayhem which the audience substitutes for excitement.  The thrill of ALIEN is largely due to the deliberate pacing and stunning futuristic visual innovation of the time which precedes the CGI revolution in cinema, where the director himself had to know how, from the wordless opening restraint, he could use the audience’s natural fear of the unknown along with a pervading sense of gloom to help build the mounting tension to a peak of madness and hysteria, all the while embracing the fundamental essence of what it is to be human.