Road to Nowhere

ROAD TO NOWHERE – video                 C+                  

USA  (121 mi)  2010  d:  Monte Hellman         Official site

As in the midst of battle there is room
For thoughts of love, and in foul sin for mirth;
As gossips whisper of a trinket's worth
Spied by the death-bed's flickering candle-gloom;
As in the crevices of Caesar's tomb
The sweet herbs flourish on a little earth:
So in this great disaster of our birth
We can be happy, and forget our doom.

For morning, with a ray of tenderest joy
Gilding the iron heaven, hides the truth,
And evening gently woos us to employ
Our grief in idle catches. Such is youth;
Till from that summer's trance we wake, to find
Despair before us, vanity behind.

—As in the Midst of Battle There Is Room, by George Santayana (1863 – 1952)

After waiting 21 years between films, one might develop expectations from a director who used to have his hand on the counter culture element of society, constantly taking a look over the edge, where his vision did not reflect that of mainstream America.  Known for making films on a shoestring budget, usually featuring offbeat, obsessive characters, Hellman was never afraid to show plenty of ambiguity and slow pacing.  As the world has changed so much since his last feature, the utterly forgettable SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT III (1989), one can only imagine what prompted his return.  Initially learning his trade in the 1950’s from the Roger Corman school of movies, creating low budget horror flicks, it’s there he began an association with fellow Corman actor Jack Nicholson, teaming up together to make a couple of existential westerns, RIDE IN THE WHIRLWIND (1965) and THE SHOOTING (1968).  But it’s Hellman’s collaboration with writer Rudy Wurlitzer that mesmerized the nation with the infamous road movie TWO-LANE BLACKTOP (1971), a hit even before the film was released, as the script was released ahead of time in Esquire magazine, hailed as an “instant classic,” showcasing the talents of fan favorite Warren Oates, capturing the epitome of the youth market’s changing values in society, where one dropped out in order to see the light, finding new directions to take instead of the competitive rat race that was purely economically motivated, only to lead to an eventual middle age void, a lack of fulfillment, a state of emptiness when the so-called American Dream didn't bring along with it the promise of happiness.  The film, of course, flopped at the box office, but has reached cult status among cinephiles, heralded as a bleak masterpiece (a phrase often repeated to humorous effect in this movie), but viewed as utter trash by others.  Hellman has always represented that divisive cultural point where his appeal is obviously directed to those open minded enough to stories that don’t come packaged, that remain blurred, offbeat, and empty.    

Shot on HD Video, Hellman has created a work that probably reveals more about the effects of alcoholism and drug abuse than anything recognizable about his life.  While supposedly based on a true story, it's true roots feel more reminiscent of the outrageous life of Beat writer William S. Burroughs, a lifelong drug addict who happened to play the game of William Tell in Mexico City with his girl friend, Joan Vollmer, claiming he could shoot the apple placed on her head with a bow and arrow while drunk, only to kill her instead.  This event so traumatized him that it may have inspired him to invent his autobiographical stream of consciousness writing style, writing in the introduction to his first book, Queer, written in 1953 but not published until 1985 due to its alleged obscenity:  “I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would have never become a writer but for Joan’s death.”  Burroughs never told a straight story, where instead his works are filled with fragments, hallucinations, sexual fantasies, dangling thoughts, poetry, dead ends and lengthy run-on monologues.  It is this style that Hellman seems to be emulating, but without the full-fledged nerve and commitment to let it all hang out.  Instead it’s a very deceptive work that appears clouded in trickery, using the device of filming a story that already happened within an existing story, constantly shifting between time periods, becoming more confusing than illuminating.  Hellman unveils his story in fragments, dangling thoughts, plenty of dead ends, and by the end, seems lost in an alcoholic stupor, a state of mental and psychological paralysis, where the blending of what’s real and what’s imagined stopped being interesting to the viewer a good hour into the film.  Much of this is due to an outrageous stroke of fate with one of the characters that the audience is expected to accept, but more likely it’s the out of synch dialogue and listless acting, where even according to the movie storyline 90 % of a director’s responsibility is in the casting, but here Tygh Runyan, who plays the always onscreen filmmaker recreating a tragic event that already took place, couldn’t be less appealing, while his choice of a look-alike actress, Shannyn Sossamon, chosen very much in a duality homage to VERTIGO (1958), is a gorgeous revelation. 

  

It’s never a good sign when a filmmaker uses old vintage movie clips in their film, which instead become the most interesting part of the film you’re watching.  The audience is invited to watch several key scenes from Preston Sturges’ THE LADY EVE (1941), watching child actress Ana Torrent in a non-subtitled Spanish version of Erice’s SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE (1973), and the infamous chess sequence with Death from Bergman’s THE SEVENTH SEAL (1957).  The idea is that artists fill their imaginations with the collected works of other artists, basically blending their own interior worlds with those of fellow artists, creating for filmmakers a seamless mosaic of dreamlike imagery where the artist himself can’t really claim ownership of his own thoughts.  Inspirations come from everywhere.  Similarly, storylines are a sprawling mess in this movie, more like the fractured, incomplete style of Cubists without the use of Surrealism.  What’s really missing is an emotional connection to any of this, as if it’s really personal and autobiographical, as one assumes it is, only the writer himself appears at all interested.  To that degree, this is a writer’s film, where the writer becomes obsessed with his own work, supposedly written by Steven Gaydos, an executive editor at Variety, where he can no longer distinguish the good from the bad, blending it all together in a haze of ambiguous incomprehensibility and expecting the audience to find something they like about it.  Similarly, the raw, extremely confessional country songs by Tom Russell bookended at the opening and closing of the movie, sounding very much like outlaw country artist Waylon Jennings decades ago, almost make the audience cringe, as they have such a personalized, stream of conscious storyline all to themselves, a style that by the end is really calling attention to itself.  It might make a difference if it was a natural outgrowth of the movie in some way, but it feels overly forced and manipulative, basically telling the audience what mood the director expects them to feel, which is the last thing this director needs to be doing.  Otherwise, there was a surprising lack of soundtrack music used during the film, rarely providing a needed change of pace, where over and over again we return to that same movie set watching a somewhat dysfunctional crew try to develop a movie that is mostly taking place inside the director’s head. 

Note:  Much of this is shot at the Balsam Mountain Inn in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina (a place my wife & I have visited and still have a coffee mug as a memento).

The Guard

THE GUARD                          B+                  

Ireland  (96 mi)  2011  ‘Scope  d:  John Michael McDonagh

Why don’t you fuck off to America with your Barack O’Fucking Bama?
—Sergeant Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson)

Written and directed by the brother of Martin McDonagh (one of the film’s producers), who wrote and directed the hitman black comedy IN BRUGES (2008), which made fun of the boring Belgium city of Bruges as a ghost town where absolutely nothing happens, both starring Brendan Gleeson, though here he single handedly carries the film in a wickedly comic performance that is nothing less than brilliant, even rivaling the British film THE TRIP (2011) as the funniest movie of the year.  While THE TRIP is wildly improvisational, relying on rival comics providing a steady stream of comic impressions, each trying to outdo the other, this film has hilariously perceptive writing, featuring an Irish cop, Sergeant Gerry Boyle (Gleeson), in a Gaelic-speaking region of Ireland poking fun at a black American FBI agent (Don Cheadle) flown in, supposedly an expert on international drug trafficking, continually pestering him with racial humor that also undercuts the so-called competency of American law enforcement, making this among the funniest and most socially relevant uses of humor seen in any recent movie.  “I'm Irish, sir, racism is a part of me culture.”  It’s funny, for a change, to see how the rest of the world amusingly views America as a cowboy culture that continually shoots itself in the foot, where our blunders are world renown, yet we continually perceive ourselves as experts.  American films rarely poke fun at our own ineptitude, as this would be seen as unpatriotic and anti-American.  But in an Irish film, showing a traditional, old-fashioned cop that except for his proclivity for profanity might be a brethren to Peter Falk’s Columbo, continually expressing himself with subversive humor in that thick Irish brogue, Gleeson gives one of the best performances of the year.

Foregoing the cheaper video route, this was shot on real film by Larry Smith, who worked on three Kubrick films, Barry Lyndon (chief electrician), The Shining (gaffer), and Eyes Wide Shut (lighting cameraman).  Somebody obviously paid attention, giving a luscious texture to the constant and steady stream of overcast gray that seems to perpetually hover over Ireland, shot mostly in Galway, suggesting a smaller rural location that culturally takes its pot shots at the ineptitude expected from the urban Irish capital of Dublin.  One of the more off the wall sequences even pokes fun of the IRA, finding little gems of humor across both sides of the ocean.  While the dialogue may need subtitling, as much of the humor is missed on an American audience simply due to the foreign accent, the tone of the film is a mixture of sharp, in-your-face humor, a showcase for strangely original side characters, and some refreshingly poignant, quiet intimacy between several of the characters, all of whom are connected in some way to Boyle, whose actions confound the drug smugglers, as he doesn’t act in the predictable manner they have come to expect.  That’s putting it mildly, as the guy doesn’t get riled, shows little fear, will stand up to anyone, face to face, and is the kind of down-to-earth guy you’d want to share a drink with, as that’s really when he’s in his element.  When he visits his terminally ill mother (Fionnula Flanagan) in a senior home, where everyone around her is just as old and sick as she is (how depressing!), their moments together are priceless, sharing a flask that he brings along, altering their memories to brighten up her day, where they even have a crack up moment giggling in church, where he wonders what she’s done at her age that needs to be confessed. 

But it’s the sudden arrival of bad guys in the vicinity that alters the landscape, that brings over the heralded “Yank,” and where dead bodies start turning up with regularity.  When we meet the trio of outlaws in a car, the ringleader Liam Cunningham is reading Schopenhauer in the back seat, while the nervous sociopath driver David Wilmot is competing with hitman Mark Strong for who can come up with the most obscure Nietzschean quote.  This is like something seen in a Hal Hartley movie, as is the very clever use of music, the Sergio Leone style score written by Calexico, a Mexican mariachi/Tejano band, while choice selections include the Bobbie Gentry ballad “Ode to Billie Joe,” which is heard playing in a diner while Gleeson and Cunningham have a face to face, like Pacino and De Niro in Michael Mann’s HEAT (1995), each conjuring up thoughts about what might have been thrown off the Tallahatchie bridge.  Reminiscent of the rich and detailed atmospheric mood established in Bill Forsyth’s LOCAL HERO (1983), the shoot ‘em up intrigue that develops from the inevitable attempt to stop the drug deal never outshines the attention to small details in this clever indie film, made for one-third the cost of IN BRUGES, where the authenticity of the characters really shines through, especially in the bar scenes, where musicians might be huddled off in the corner playing quietly, where the customers can actually hear one another, establish a dialogue and a familiar relationship, while developing that amicable jocular tone.  John Denver singing “Leaving On a Jet Plane” couldn’t be more poignant in its use here, as this film has a dynamite ending, not overpowering, as this remains a small film, but clever all the way through to the end, allowing some of the film’s smaller characters to shine.    

The Future

THE FUTURE             C+                  

USA  (91 mi)  2011  d:  Miranda July

I'm just a rock in the sky... and the world is so far away.                  
—Voice of the Moon (Joe Putterlik)

This is one of the least involving films you’ll ever see, so much so one wonders why it was even made at all?  One can only think it’s a bleak, personal reaction to a separation or a loved one’s death, where the film lists a dedication to Joe Putterlik, a real life person who acts in the film, but died before it was released.  While this bears the distinct quirkiness of a Miranda July film, a slow detachment that borders on boredom, short verbal outbursts that seem restricted to ten words or less, characters that seem to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, momentary occasions of laughter, and a near plotless storyline, yet it’s surprisingly absent in establishing any relevancy in our lives.  Walking out of the film afterwards, one suspects this is one of the least effective pieces in the collected works of someone as clever and imaginative as Ms. July, who is also a performance artist who works in multimedia formats, including short films, music videos, books, and feature length films that she writes and directs while also appearing as a main character.  This is a film that clearly establishes its own boundaries and ground rules, so the audience is open to something fresh and unique, but what Ms. July provides instead is a rather lame relationship movie about a bored, middle class Los Angeles couple that finds it hard to commit.  Starring Hamish Linklater as Jason, her live-in boyfriend, the two are living together friction free in perfect harmony and bliss, but there is no chemistry between them other than a close friendship.  They may as well be brother and sister, though that’s perhaps an exaggeration.  They get along fine and enjoy each other’s company, but neither one has a life, yet are unaware of their deep seeded emptiness. 

The film is narrated by Ms. July’s voice as an injured cat that is sitting in an animal shelter waiting to get adopted, where this couple comes ready to adopt but is told they must wait 30 days due to a medical condition that must heal before the cat can be released.  This momentary setback plays havoc with the couple’s future, as they suddenly feel their best years are behind them, failing to live up to their dreams, where they have become, well—ordinary.  As they believe the cat will somehow unify their lives, the 30 day interim becomes an exploratory stage to chuck it all and begin anew, as they believe afterwards this newly discovered commitment will send their lives on a downward end-of-their-lives spiral, including a decided lack of freedom.  What would they do if they only had 30 days left to live?  July quits her job as a ballet dance instructor of infants while Jason quits his online computer service and walks the streets of LA selling trees door to door as part of the city’s outreach program to allow trees to naturally replenish the smoggy atmosphere with more oxygen.  While in theory this may work, Jason finds he is easily sidetracked, as the city’s residents show little interest or enthusiasm, so instead he starts hanging around the home of a man named Joe (Joe Putterlik) that he discovers in a Penny Saver advertisement.  Joe has many interests, including electrical repair, weird philosophical sayings and holiday cards with lewd limericks attached.  Jason uses him as a kind of father figure, as he effortlessly dispenses with good natured advice. 

Ms. July, on the other hand, decides to make a YouTube dance video for every day of the 30 days, inspired by the music of Beach House- 'Master of None' (seen here on YouTube:  3:49), but becomes dismayed with her lack of talent, so quickly loses interest.  Instead, she calls at random a phone number listed on the back of a drawing Jason recently purchased, which leads her into the home of David Warshofsky, a well to do single father in his own home in the suburbs raising a daughter (Isabella Acres) who expresses a maturity level well beyond her years.  This random act alters the balance between Ms. July and Jason, as she mystifyingly becomes attracted to his rather crude nature, becoming sucked into a new dream fantasy that doesn’t even appear to be her own.  Where this all leads is to a kind of magical realism, where characters think time can literally stop, where they can sort out the major difficulties in their lives, but time moves ahead anyway without their realizing it, altering the landscape as they know it, which will never again be as it was.  The film seems to thrive on despairing ambiguities and a wandering curiosity about very ordinary things, but much of it is an avoidance mechanism to avoid having to make a commitment, where they may never know how love feels, still withholding their emotions, keeping their freedom and individuality on reserve.  There’s a beautiful use of the song  Peggy Lee - Where Or When  YouTube (3:20), which is the epitome of romance, a fleeting illusion that fades into the hopes and dreams of the next couple. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pt. 2

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS, PT. 2          B-                   

Great Britain  USA  (130 mi)  2011  ‘Scope  d:  David Yates

You and who’s army?             —Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis)

Pt. 2 begins pretty much where Pt. 1 left off, with Voldemort assuming the seemingly invincible powers by attaining the world’s most powerful wand by raiding Dumbledore’s coffin, leaving the wizard world in a state of flux and Harry still searching for the missing Horcruxes, the secret to dismantling Voldemort’s alleged invincibility.  Action sequences are fast and frequent in this segment, where right out of the gate the gang of three are off on another mission together, following clues and tracking down secrets into the farthest corners of the earth, this time leading them to the bank vault of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, Helena Bonham Carter, easily one of the best characters in the entire series, as the unbridled joy she takes in her malevolence is unsurpassed by anyone.  Using the invisibility cloak to hide Harry and a goblin as his accomplice, not to mention ingenious disguises where Hermione assumes the look of Bellatrix, they simply walk right into Gringott’s bank to have a look, where the entry in resembles one of the world’s greatest roller coaster rides.  Of course, all doesn’t go exactly as planned, where Hermione even makes a joke about how their ideas never work out as planned, yet it’s a clever opening, a masterful extended sequence, probably the best in the entire film, filled with ups and down delights and surprises, as the audience is immediately reeled into this final chapter.     

The title character is given plenty of legroom in this one, with Ron and Hermione fading from prominence, showing up only as needed rather than initiating much of the action.  Interestingly, much of this plays out in Harry’s head, where he has past recollections, strange, otherworldy visions, intuitive thoughts about where to seek out Horcruxes, which all but abandoned him in the last meandering episode, but also visions of the current whereabouts of Voldemort, where much of the film turns into what he senses is happening around him, where he’s actually tuning into the totality of his entire life.  Hogwarts has been taken over by the dark side, surrounded by life-sucking Death Eaters, with Professor Snape (Alan Rickman) named the headmaster, where students are marched around with military precision like concentration camp victims, ordered by Snape to provide information about Harry Potter sightings or be severely punished, yet the entire group has facial wounds that suggest they have already been tortured.  Nonetheless, Harry sneaks into the grounds searching for Horcruxes, where he runs into Dumbledore’s mysteriously bitter brother Aberforth (Ciarán Hinds), also a sister (Hebe Beardsall) that lives inside a painting, who seem to still be holding a grudge against him, where there are illuminating flashback sequences that shed light on their childhood.  Still, another Dumbledore joining the fray has to reap positive benefits, even if reluctantly.

Voldemort uses his own version of mind control at Hogwarts, which begins with young girl students screaming in agony at the pain in their ears before an unseen but all powerful voice overwhelms them all, amounting to little more than bullying.  However when Harry shows himself, along with his own band of self-taught supporters, Professor McGonagall (Maggie Smith) seems rightfully pleased and aids him in a wand to wand encounter with Snape that runs him off the premises, allowing a spirit of joy to re-enter the premises, at least for the moment.  Aligning all the remaining wizard powers of good, McGonagall creates a spell that brings out giant stone chess player like protectors who were created for a moment such as this, as a spell encircles Hogwarts, like a protective bubble, while Voldemort and his Army gather on a nearby hill with a taste of victory in the air.  The skies are darkened throughout this final installment, given a very ominous, Macbethian tone which foreshadows the inevitable confrontation of the young wizard and the Dark Lord, where a bloody price is ultimately paid.  When his troops charge, the ensuing battle scenes are certainly reminiscent of the filmed version of LORD OF THE RINGS (2001 – 3), which contained an Iliad-like insatiability for blood.  But when the spell initially holds them at bay, Neville chortles with joy, claiming yeah, You and Who’s Army?, an amusing reference to a song made famous by Radiohead in 2001, six years before the final book was released, seen here:  Radiohead - You and Whose Army?  (3:35).  The protective bubble is short-lived however, as a near massacre ensues, leaving Hogwarts resembling the look of Rome, London, or Berlin in the aftermath of World War II, with rubble dominating the landscape.       

However, behind the scenes, Harry is vigilant in finding and destroying the Horcruxes, each one of which wounds Voldemort, leaving him less confident and overpowering, the first time we’ve seen any hint of weakness on his part.  But Harry seems equally drained by each destruction, as if he’s killing off a piece of himself in the process.  There’s some interesting unfinished business with Professor Snape, some quite surprising and even a bit confusing, also more examples of the ruthlessness of Voldemort, before the inevitable confrontation has a bit of the magic potion texture of Romeo and Juliet, where life is suspended momentarily to climb into one of the Harry Potter visions, even as he appears dead to the rest of the world, giving Voldemort the apparent victory he has always sought, delighted at the idea he has finally killed off his young nemesis.  Neville Longbottom, of all people, the "witless wizard" that conjures up laughs in the Voldemort camp, seen as a weakling throughout the entire series, finally rises to the occasion and sets off a student insurrection against the dark side, refusing to go easily, reuniting Harry’s friends, if only in spirit.  Like Tinker Bell, after drinking the poison in Peter Pan, this positive spirit seems to raise Harry from the dead, providing the impetus needed to cross the finish line alive and in one piece.  The finale is filled with wizard battle sequences, where even Ron’s mother gets into the action, actually calling Bellatrix a bitch before finishing her off with surprising gusto, but bodies line the grounds afterwards, the inevitable price of war.  The aftermath (19 years later) is surprisingly sentimental and a bit lame, suggesting all things end back at the beginning where a new group of wizards has the chance to do it all over again.  One of the fundamental disappointments of the finale was the near absent use of Hermione, a post feminist force, Muggle-born, yet considered the most ingenious young wizard in the art of potions, still relegated to the background through most of the final installment along with Ron, though holding hands at the end.  Their picture of domestic bliss is more laughable than believable, like something out of the Silent era films 100 years earlier.   

In reflecting on the entire series, the cinema itself has not been that outstanding or revelatory, hardly what one would call masterpieces, where only Alfonso Cuarón in PRISONER OF AZKABAN (2004) seemed to be having fun expanding the artistic palette of such a dark and mysterious world, creating a bleaker look, subjecting the audience to deeper terrors, not afraid to delve into the horror genre.  The casting has been particularly ingenious, allowing walk on opportunities for some of Britain’s finest actors, bringing their theatrical exaggeration into a children’s realm, as these characters will be forever etched into people’s minds and imaginations for generations, as the success of Harry Potter in books and the movies easily make it the most influential children’s saga in history, having far reaching effects on the benefits of children having an imaginary world that they can continue to explore well into adulthood, where unlike Peter Pan, they can bring much of the charm and magic with them as they grow up.  The real standouts in the series are the initial casting of the three friends, as we all watched them grow up and took a decided interest in their real lives as well, as they seem like genuinely good hearted and well-balanced kids where we can only hope for the best, though Daniel Radcliffe as Harry seems bound and determined to build a career outside this series, while the always beautiful Emma Watson as Hermione Granger is already a tabloid sensation, but may find it harder to break away from her brilliant, overly studious character. 

Alan Rickman, the sinister man in black, made Professor Snape’s malicious character deliciously humorous, conniving, always overly critical yet intriguing, but also complicated, as he divided his allegiance between the darkness and the light in order to survive the enveloping madness surrounding him.  Dumbledore, as written, is the heart of the magical end of the story, divided by two actors due to the premature death of Richard Harris, handing over the duties to the less flamboyant Michael Gambon.  The Hogwarts professors are an eccentric lot, but Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid is easily the most lovable, the devoted giant who brought Harry into the wizard world, letting him know how special he was, something every child needs to hear, while of the eccentric friends, no one comes close to the offbeat humor and charm of Evanna Lynch as Luna, a girl who always turned up in strange places where her friendship and loyalty to Harry was unmatched.  Julie Walters as the adoring mother of the Weasley clan couldn’t have been more lovingly affectionate.  On the dark side, Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix proves once again that not only is she a brilliant actress, but her flair for the character enriched everyone else’s part, almost always upstaging Ralph Fiennes as You Know Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named.  As for the animated characters, Dobby was simply a wonderful expression of kind-hearted sadness, whose moment of freedom was nothing less than sensational.  Perhaps the lamest CGI creation was the completely uninspired Grawp, Hagrid’s dimwitted brother in ORDER OF THE PHOENIX (2007), while the most artistically inspired moment in the entire series was the surprisingly original animated puppet play explaining the origin of the Deathly Hallows in PT. 1 (2010).  In the end, however, it’s the inventiveness of J.K. Rowling’s original creation that will stand the test of time, as she invented this strange and fabulous world filled with lovable characters who are forced to stand up to the dark forces, often at their own peril.  It’s not often you can grow up with a movie series that takes you through an entire decade of growth development, but this is one of the real successes of the movies, the audience’s identification with the characters as if their lives actually mattered, because for so many kids, they do.  That is the sign of exquisite writing, where the unforgettable, magical world they live in, with all the attention to detail, will likely live in our collective imaginations our entire lives.   

Everything Must Go

EVERYTHING MUST GO         C              

USA  (96 mi)  2010  ‘Scope  d:  Dan Rush

Watching a guy laying around in his front yard in a lounge chair drinking beer, his clothes and personal belongings strewn about from a wife who kicked him out on his ass, turned into a lumberingly slow and somewhat pathetic yard sale for the next few days, is hardly one’s idea of great cinema, rather, reminiscent of some neighbor who’s become a public nuisance, airing his dirty laundry in public, which feels like leaving his dog outside subjecting everyone to his constant barking.  In most neighborhoods, there’s usually at least one guy who refuses to mow his lawn, even as the rest appear perfectly manicured and golf course textured green.   The last ornery guy in the neighborhood movie was Clint Eastwood in GRAN TORINO (2008), where a retired blue collar worker sat on his front porch drinking beer and fumed if anybody stepped on his lawn, continually uttering racist tinged expletives under his breath, eventually deciding to take matters into his own hands, becoming something of a neighborhood buttinsky, butting into other people’s business.  Here the viewer waits for other neighbors to show up to butt into this guy’s personal business, which is the subject of the movie, which suggests one guy’s sorry plight is also our own.  Like homelessness, there but before the grace of God go I, so to speak.  But rather than dissect a social phenomena of people getting thrown out on their asses in America, losing their jobs and their homes, and in some cases their families, this movie prefers to hang around on the guy’s front lawn and see what social phenomena can happen.  Again, rather than show real lives in anything resembling real life situations, the director prefers taking the Hollywood route of imagining how he can get the audience to sympathize with this one lame guy, supposedly a stand-in for all of the rest of us, thinking his personal transformation into a decent human being could be a road map for our own troubled lives.  If only it were that easy.  But the reason most are out on their asses in America is not because they are self-centered louses who drink too much, who probably deserved to get canned from their job in the first place, but decent folks who have been laid-off as it’s easier for their companies and factories to move overseas and pay a pittance than pay American workers a decent wage.  But you won’t hear any of that in this movie, which all but ignores the real social problems and instead centers on a character study of a guy whose world has been turned upside down. 

Films like this pretend to care about real life issues, but really what they’re doing is placing a star actor in an everyman’s role and then hope that it generates good revenue, hoping the actor gets good reviews and everybody working on the film gets to stay working in the business.  That’s the Hollywood dream, where in this case the idea of taking a successful television comedian and offering him a sympathetic role as just a regular guy will allow the public to see him in a different light.  In Hollywood, that’s considered going out on the edge and taking a chance.  Many will get suckered into this scheme, and that’s all it is, a scheme to raise money, like a pyramid scheme or TV evangelists begging for dollars or any other, where they attempt to fool the public into donating dollars.  Character studies continue to rely on the ROCKY (1976) formula, a rags to riches saga that usually shows the subject in an abject state of being down and out, usually desperate and all alone in the gutter, without a friend in the world where life is a waste, until eventually, oftentimes by pure accidental luck, fate offers them a second chance where they scratch their way back into human decency and hope to have the opportunity to do things differently next time around.  Now they are better prepared, and the viewer gets to see the people who help them on their path of redemption, like an extended family, seen here as Rebecca Hall, the neighbor across the street, and Christopher Jordan Wallace (excellent, by the way), son of late rap artist Biggie Smalls (The Notorious B.I.G.) and R&B singer Faith, all of which prove the adage that “It takes a village to raise a child.”  This generic formula is as old as mud, but the public is usually a sucker for it, so in Hollywood, they use it all the time, as it’s known for paying off at the box office.  Sticking comedian Will Ferrell in the lead role, allowing him to play a loveable loser, a downhearted guy who can actually provide a textured, understated performance, going against type, will likely draw sympathy for his portrayal, the big lug.  Hollywood has been putting guys like this onscreen since before the days of the Depression, where the audience can get a few laughs as they sympathize with the character’s plight.  What they forget is that the actor is getting several million dollars for his portrayal in front of the camera, hardly deserving of the public’s sympathy, more likely their outrage.      

Are famous actors, as opposed to unknowns or non-professionals, the best vehicles to deliver this kind of sentimentalized social message, one laced with so many broken American Dreams?  Apparently not, as in this wealthy neighborhood, who believes Ferrell is in need of anything?  In real life, he probably drives around in a Mercedes.  But in Hollywood we’re asked to suspend belief and believe what’s happening onscreen.  The quandary here is if it wasn’t Ferrell onscreen, no one would be watching the film, as it would be languishing on a shelf somewhere without anyone taking notice.  Ferrell brings an audience, but also artificiality, as he’s a commodity spokesperson, a walking commercial for his own career, always pandering to the audience for approval.  Unfortunately, this makes the movie about the famous actor playing a downhearted sot who needs another shot at life, leaving all the rest of the working stiffs who are out on their asses to fend for themselves, as this film hardly notices you, and uses your sorry plight for sympathy that is directed towards a millionaire actor instead of the real people who deserve it.  That’s the ass backwards approach in Hollywood, as they suck all the money out of you so you don’t have anything left to offer to those in real need.  Some people are misguided enough to think that just choosing to see a movie like this is a profound expression of their left-leaning political sympathies, as if it’s donating money for the right cause.  Well it’s not.  It goes right into the coffers of the Hollywood culture that invented this kind of generic entertainment mixed with a light social message.  It’s a breezy way of getting people to try to take a social issue seriously.  Is Will Ferrell the right spokesperson for the American economic freefall?  Probably not, as his idea of comedy probably leans more toward TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN (1969). 

Another Earth

ANOTHER EARTH                B-                   

USA  (92 mi)  2011  d:  Mike Cahill 

This is another example of once you’ve seen the trailer, you’ve seen too much, as nearly the entire story is revealed in a highly condensed two minutes, leaving little suspense left in the theater, as you already know what to expect.   From the outset, however, it should be said that the high definition look leaves something to be desired, as the colors and focus aren’t there, while the jiggling camera movement suggests unsteady hands, all contributing to a grainy, somewhat washed out look of video, making it look very much like it was made on a shoestring budget of $150,000.  However, it does try to make the most with the least, using a minimum of plot development, continually using the power of suggestion to keep the appetites whetted.  Basically it’s a one note effort, as the entire film is about the initial premise, the mysterious arrival of an identical mirror planet Earth right next to our own, called Earth 2, where duplicate versions of ourselves live their lives exactly as we’ve lived our own, where they have the exact same thoughts and lives as we’ve had.  While the story is slow getting started, and is a bit preposterous to buy into, knowing the gravitational effect that the moon has on our planet, so imagine the effects of a planet as large as our own staring back at us in the sky?  Instead, the filmmaker shows multiple shots of people walking down the streets, or on the sidewalks in front of their homes, or next to the ocean, projecting Earth 2 in the sky as our constant companion.  Often people stop and literally stare into the sky to express their newly discovered interest.  Years after this happens, yes, one must repeat, as it takes literally years for the two planets to make contact and realize they are mirror planets, where another version of ourselves lives up there.  One wonders if their lives are any better than our own? 

There is a secondary story that is told simultaneously, one that involves actors instead of planets, where Brit Marling plays 17-year old Rhoda, a high school senior who has just been accepted into the M.I.T astrophysics program on the night the new planet is discovered, staring into the sky while driving, causing a horrific accident, killing a pregnant wife and her children, leaving the husband in a lengthy coma.  Rather than go to college, Rhoda is sent to prison for 4 years, where our earth is just making contact with the new planet by the time she gets out.  Instead of filling a position designed to utilize her attributes, Rhoda wants little social contact, where she is still burying her head in the sand after the accident, and decides to get a job working as the high school janitor.  Again, where there would likely be close to a dozen janitors or more, this school only has two, where she can be seen hiding her face under her hood and wearing a wool cap, where one imagines she may be too attractive to fit the role, but she’s also a co-writer along with the director, so she can do what she wants with the part.  She googles articles about the accident and learns the address of the surviving father, now out of his coma, and decides to confront him, expressing her sympathy for his loss, but instead offers herself as available maid service, showing up weekly to clean his house which is mostly filled with empty liquor bottles.  What she expects to accomplish from this can’t lead to anything good, but that issue is set aside for nearly the entire film, just waiting to appear again at some point.  So there is something of a cringe factor involved at seeing her return to the scene of the crime week after week and lie about her presence, becoming something of a stalker, taking advantage of a man she doesn’t even know. 

Of course, the movie sees it somewhat differently, overlooking all of the previous history, including the jail time, where there are no therapists, no parole officers, no help offered from any source except a single corporation that is offering one lucky winner the chance to fly free to the other planet based on an essay contest.  Rhoda, of course, sends in an essay before she ever meets John (William Mapither), who slowly takes an interest in his new maid, eventually sobering up and realizing she even has a name.  Quite surprised at her intelligence, he immediately falls for her, no surprise there, yet she’s still the stalker woman lying about her reasons for being there, even after they enter into a sexual liaison, where for many in the audience, this has really gone on too far.  The film seems to take pleasure in overlooking the credibility factor, thinking Marling can sell the story, which for the most part she does, as she’s excellent in the role, especially in the way she never comes to terms with this single event in her life, something perhaps many can relate to.  She gets a lot of mileage with her hangdog, sheepish expression, using little dialogue, just solitary images of her with Earth 2 hovering just overhead.  But it all has to come to a head some way, some day.  There’s no way anyone could predict the outcome, as the multitude of possibilities coming in contact with a duplicate of everything that exists on Earth is simply mind boggling, so there’s a lot to play with.  The film offers a series of radio and TV broadcasts announcing the latest developments with this new planet, where one wonders if Rhoda being offered the chance at a new life there would do her any good, as that’s a long way to go to run away from the problems that exist here, suggesting there’s a duality that exists in all our feelings, good and bad, where every impulse generates a little bit of both.  All these questions and more are asked by the film which does a good job keeping the audience guessing.  Perhaps the most positive effect is the upbeat electronic music from the electro-rock band Fall On Your Sword, which brings the end credits down in style.

Stalker

Tarkovsky on the set

Tarkovsky on the set with Aleksandr Kaidanovsky as The Stalker

STALKER  (Сталкер)                                     A                    

Russia  Germany (163 mi)  1979  d:  Andrei Tarkovsky

Here we are at the threshold. This is the most important moment of your lives. You have to know that here your most cherished wish will come true. The most sincere one. The one reached through suffering.       —Stalker (Aleksandr Kaidanovsky) from STALKER (1979)

“It is about the existence of God in man, and about the death of spirituality as a result of our possessing false knowledge.”    —Andrei Tarkovsky

Now the summer has passed.

It might never have been.

It is warm in the sun,

But it isn’t enough.

All that might’ve occurred

Like a five-fingered leaf

Fluttered into my hands,

But it isn’t enough.

Neither evil nor good

Has yet vanished in vain,

It all burned and was light,

But it isn’t enough.

Life has been as a shield,

And has offered protection.

I have been most fortunate,

But it isn’t enough.

The leaves were not burned.

The boughs were not broken,

The day clear as glass,

But it isn’t enough.

  

—But There Has to be More, by Arseny Tarkovsky, the director’s father, recited by the Stalker outside The Room

One of the great achievements in cinema history, Tarkovsky unearths new grounds in this beautifully hypnotic, oddly ambiguous, near complete re-write of a Russian science fiction novel Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, where Tarkovsky eliminates all but the barest traces of science fiction, turning this instead into a philosophical parable on human existence.  Much like the journey of the three Wise Men seeking spiritual guidance, yet ironically a film requiring the tacit approval of the Communist Soviet State, this film incorporates several Scriptural references, including a strangely unbiblical Revelations dream sequence and a reference to Emmaus Road where two of Jesus' disciples failed to recognize the person who (in an atheistic, totalitarian controlled society) shall not be named— the resurrected Christ, not to mention a character wearing a crown of thorns, and features a similar quest for knowledge and insight, but it’s set in an unnamed future evidenced by train whistles and a corrosive post-industrial world of toxic waste, rot, and decay, where the interior human component comes to mirror that soulless reflection of destroyed, meaningless lives.  

Beset with difficulties from the outset, Tarkovsky initially shot nearly half the film before realizing the Kodak film stock, rare in Russia, was defective, where he immediately petitioned for additional funding, which was granted only on the condition he’d shoot a 2-part film, and money was forwarded for the 2^nd part.  In the second attempt at filming, the crew experienced equipment problems, also shutting down production. Tarkovsky actually suffered a heart attack after firing his original cinematographer Georgi Rerberg, who filmed MIRROR (1975), and also his production designer Aleksandr Bojm, claiming artistic differences, which allowed the director time to change the entire concept of a film that was initially conceived in 'Scope and ended up in a more tightly constricted, boxed 1:33 aspect ratio, and where the character of the Stalker evolved from an arrogantly confident smuggler to a man constantly at odds with his own fragile human limitations.  Cameraman Leonid Kalashnikov showed up on the set for a few weeks before being replaced by Aleksandr Knyazhinsky, while Tarkovsky himself assumed the set designer duties.  In addition, the shooting took place near an abandoned hydroelectric plant in Tallinn, Estonia, where the actors and film crew may have spent months exposed to chemical poisoning from the toxic white foam floating down the Jägala River, causing allergic reactions on the set and where Tarkovsky himself, his wife Larissa, and his favorite leading actor Anatoliy Solonitsyn all died within a decade from similar causes, pulmonary lung cancer.  Due to bureaucratic censor boards and ongoing feuds regarding artistic integrity and a continuing difficulty obtaining State funding, this is the final film Tarkovsky shot in Russia, shooting his final two films in Italy and Sweden.  

Opening in a Sepia-toned Black and White, Aleksandr Kaidanovsky plays the Stalker, a painstakingly conscientious guide with the mental capacity to illegally lead people successfully through a dangerous and forbidden, unpopulated area known as The Zone, "the quietest place in the world" where the faint sounds of birds can be heard, the result perhaps of alien activity or an intelligence greater than our own, and of a meteorite falling several decades earlier, where in the center is a destination known as The Room, a place where one’s innermost desire can become true.  Soldiers initially entered the swampy region in tanks with weapons and never returned, now full of syringes, medical waste, contaminated standing water, and discarded human artifacts and debris, overgrown with vegetation over time, surrounded by gates and barbed wire and protected by military personnel.  Against the wishes of his distraught wife and physically deformed daughter, somehow the genetic result of his activities in The Zone, the Stalker agrees to guide two men into The Zone, Anatoliy Solonitsyn as the cynical Writer and Nikolai Grinko as the science Professor.

Their harrowing ride into the eerie stillness of The Zone leads to one of the most brilliantly constructed sequences, a seamlessly envisioned train ride where the edited images, seemingly captured in one shot (there are 5) perfectly match the haunting, anticipatory mood and psychology of the men with the quiet, rhythmic clacking of the train, where once they finally reach their destination the world around them quickly turns into color.  While the two are contemptibly suspicious of their guide's unerring caution, the Stalker is wary about proceeding too quickly, never taking a straight line, but zigs and zags in the direction where they’re going, where the mystery of The Zone changes with each visit, a maze of constantly shifting traps, where the rules of entry also seem to change, allowing the passage of some but denying entrance to others.  For the Stalker, he never knows the intentions of his passengers and can only hope for the best, proceeding as cautiously as possible.  Despite the apparent simplicity of the journey itself, Tarkovsky creates vivid suspense throughout the entire length of their quest, making this something of an edge of your seat thriller, as one never knows what to expect, not even the Stalker himself who recounts some of his earlier adventures, some not so successful.  Notable are the inclusion of unique dream sequences, some spectacular passageways, a gorgeous electronic soundtrack from composer Eduard Artemyev, Tarkovsky’s signature interior rain sequences, and the appearance of a black dog that grows attached to the Stalker.      

STALKER begins a pattern that continues in Tarkovsky’s final two films, expressing a self-destructive world of commerce or transitory concerns that has lost touch with its own existence and all connections with nature, a world where faith and spirituality have also been lost or discarded, featuring Stalkers, Holy Fools or lost souls who are treated with scorn and contempt by those they attempt to save.  Looked upon by others as weak, despised, and even a bit mad, Stalker recognizes his own limited human condition, a rugged but wounded soul most likely damaged from his exposure to some poisonous chemical or radioactive substance, grown weary from a world in constant decay, filled with a palpable fear for having to live with the potential damaging consequences of continuously exposing himself and his family to the unknown elements of The Zone.  Yet it is his awareness of his human weakness that is the source of a spiritual connection that others lack.  While plainly an attack on the spiritual emptiness of society, in STALKER, all the initial hopes expressed to alter man’s destiny are dashed by the complexity and near incomprehensibility of reaching the precipice of The Room, that moment when all potential solutions vanish from the minds of mortal beings, described by some as that “poverty of spirit,” perhaps struck by the all-knowing omniscience and enormity of it all, where at least in one of the earlier scripts (there were supposedly 10), Writer acknowledges “We haven’t matured to this place.”  One of the most emotionally compelling moments is when trifling personal motives are exposed and the painfully disappointed Stalker breaks down to reveal the extent of his own personal anguish and the heavy toll this journey takes on his wounded psyche, as he can lead others to the mysteries of The Room, hoping they can find wisdom and salvation, but cannot receive any personal benefit himself, claiming “It lets those pass who have lost all hope, not good or bad, but wretched people.”  In the end, The Zone is less a place than each man's individual reaction to it.       

In Sculpting in Time, Tarkovsky acknowledges a central theme of “human dignity (and) how a man suffers if he has no self-respect,” reflected in the Stalker’s draining faith in mankind, also the redemptive powers of love expressed by Stalker’s wife in her final monologue, calling it a “final miracle to set against the unbelief, cynicism, (and) moral vacuum poisoning the modern world…It is about the existence of God in man, and about the death of spirituality as a result of our possessing false knowledge.”  While the Writer and Professor are ultimately humbled and rendered human, as if challenged by passing through the rigors of Dante's Inferno, a kind of Vladimir and Estragon lost in the incomprehensibility of their banal existence in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, their arrogance and hubris are reflected in iconic Russian figures, Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor comes to mind from The Brothers Karamazov and the worshipping of false prophets, also the imposter, the Pretender Tsar from Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov, both works that also feature a similar witnessing Holy Fool character that was also present in ANDREI RUBLEV (1966).  The false Trinity of Stalker’s misguided faith, the Professor’s wrongful use of reason, and Writer’s art that ultimately is expressed in self doubt, fail to produce the expected miracle that instead appears in Stalker’s own family, combining his own spirituality and his wife’s steadfast devotion with his daughter’s unexplained mysticism that is nothing less than transcendence, especially considering the squalor and industrial ugliness that is everpresent in the polluted landscape of this world, where the muted sounds of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy can strangely and ironically be heard.  Tarkovsky certainly attempts to draw a distinction between what is human and what is eternal in his films, where this film shows a myopic tendency for humans to dwell on phantoms and incidental matter that is purely transitory, failing to recognize the distinguishing human element that defines our earthly existence—the selfless capacity to love.