Everyone wants to be Tarantino. That's it. That's the review.
Reviews
6 Reviews
Signs
(2002)
Shyamalan Getting' All Romans 8:28 with It
20 April 2017
Warning: Spoilers
You think crop circles are a hoax? M. Night Shyamalan's film tries to have you thinking differently. And not just about crop circles.
Rev. Graham Hess, is a widower living in a farmhouse along with his two children, Morgan and Bo. Graham's younger brother, Merrill, has also joined the household. Wait. Did I say REVEREND Graham Hess? Make that FORMER reverend since, as a result of his struggle to make sense of his wife's death, Mr. Hess has lost his faith.
His wife's dying words were "Tell Merrill to swing away..." The randomness of those words sends Graham into a nihilistic tailspin, causing him to say things like, "I am not wasting one more minute of my life on prayer" and "there is no One looking out for us...we are all alone."
But it is the seemingly random words and happenstances of the film that congeal in the end to produce an epiphany of sorts. In this regard, Hess's epiphany is not too different from the one experienced by Jules in Tarentino's PULP FICTION.
If PULP FICTION had a big idea, it was that even the least worthy can catch a break from the Man Upstairs. Similarly, Shyamalan's big idea here is that even when aliens with bad intent show up on earth, God still cares, God is still in charge. It's just not so obvious. Until it is.
In this way, "Signs" may just be a 105-minute, suspense-filled meditation on the Scripture that goes, "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God..." (Romans 8:28). And maybe even for the good of those who don't.
This film has its definite strengths. There are some genuinely eerie moments midst the cornstalks (naturally). The "Field of Dreams"-like setting and cinematography are easy on the eyes, effectively contrasting with the shadowy alien invasion.
As for the cast, Abigail Breslin (as Bo), barely six years old and in her first film, does a great job being unself-consciously precocious. And there's barely a hint of Mad Max in Mel Gibson's Graham Hess. Furthermore, I tend to like anything Joaquin Phoenix does, including the weird Hip-Hop-ZZ-Top thing he did a few years ago. The weak link is the older brother (played by the younger brother of the kid who played the kid in the Home Alone films).
Cinematically speaking, it is clear that Shyamalan has learned much from his movie-making idol, Alfred Hitchcock. On the other hand, unlike Hitchcock, Shyamalan is not content with a fleeting cameo. Instead, he cast himself in the role of a major minor character and the low quality of this performance is distracting. So, yeah, another weak link.
Yet another complaint: the aliens come off as pretty wimpy. How is it that a humanoid species can figure out how to travel from one solar system to another but can't figure out a defense against one of the most basic of elements? C'mon now.
Really, the best thing about this film is the theological question: Does a caring God exist or not? Shyamalan keeps this theological tension taut throughout the film and resolves it in a manner that you probably did not see coming.
UPSHOT: despite its flaws, "Signs" manages to be a worthy film that can promote an even more worthy conversation about fate and faith, God and grace.
Rev. Graham Hess, is a widower living in a farmhouse along with his two children, Morgan and Bo. Graham's younger brother, Merrill, has also joined the household. Wait. Did I say REVEREND Graham Hess? Make that FORMER reverend since, as a result of his struggle to make sense of his wife's death, Mr. Hess has lost his faith.
His wife's dying words were "Tell Merrill to swing away..." The randomness of those words sends Graham into a nihilistic tailspin, causing him to say things like, "I am not wasting one more minute of my life on prayer" and "there is no One looking out for us...we are all alone."
But it is the seemingly random words and happenstances of the film that congeal in the end to produce an epiphany of sorts. In this regard, Hess's epiphany is not too different from the one experienced by Jules in Tarentino's PULP FICTION.
If PULP FICTION had a big idea, it was that even the least worthy can catch a break from the Man Upstairs. Similarly, Shyamalan's big idea here is that even when aliens with bad intent show up on earth, God still cares, God is still in charge. It's just not so obvious. Until it is.
In this way, "Signs" may just be a 105-minute, suspense-filled meditation on the Scripture that goes, "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God..." (Romans 8:28). And maybe even for the good of those who don't.
This film has its definite strengths. There are some genuinely eerie moments midst the cornstalks (naturally). The "Field of Dreams"-like setting and cinematography are easy on the eyes, effectively contrasting with the shadowy alien invasion.
As for the cast, Abigail Breslin (as Bo), barely six years old and in her first film, does a great job being unself-consciously precocious. And there's barely a hint of Mad Max in Mel Gibson's Graham Hess. Furthermore, I tend to like anything Joaquin Phoenix does, including the weird Hip-Hop-ZZ-Top thing he did a few years ago. The weak link is the older brother (played by the younger brother of the kid who played the kid in the Home Alone films).
Cinematically speaking, it is clear that Shyamalan has learned much from his movie-making idol, Alfred Hitchcock. On the other hand, unlike Hitchcock, Shyamalan is not content with a fleeting cameo. Instead, he cast himself in the role of a major minor character and the low quality of this performance is distracting. So, yeah, another weak link.
Yet another complaint: the aliens come off as pretty wimpy. How is it that a humanoid species can figure out how to travel from one solar system to another but can't figure out a defense against one of the most basic of elements? C'mon now.
Really, the best thing about this film is the theological question: Does a caring God exist or not? Shyamalan keeps this theological tension taut throughout the film and resolves it in a manner that you probably did not see coming.
UPSHOT: despite its flaws, "Signs" manages to be a worthy film that can promote an even more worthy conversation about fate and faith, God and grace.
The Book of Eli
(2010)
Inter-texting par excellence
20 April 2017
Warning: Spoilers
The Book of Eli features a post-apocalyptic wanderer and his treasured book. In fact, Eli's book turns out to be a rarity and the object of some envy and contention. Eli enters a town run by the despotic Carnegie. Carnegie wants the book to gain power and control people. When one of his henchman questions how a book can have such effect, Carnegie yells: "It's not an effing book; it's a weapon!" Eli, similarly, comes to objectify the book, albeit not as a weapon.
At one key point in the film, Eli confesses to his co-traveler, Solara: "All these years I've been carrying it...I forgot to live what I learned from it." From the juxtaposition of Carnegie's and Eli's conceptions of the book, it's possible to surmise that the Hughes brothers want at least to communicate the point that ultimately this book is only as good or as bad as the people who use it. That's not a bad takeaway.
This film features a great deal of clever interplay with the book, its contents, and the possessors of the book. In fact, this film does "inter-texting" like no other.
It's all there in the double-meaning of the movie's title: The Book of Eli.
In the most obvious sense, the "of" in "book OF Eli" is possessive. It's the physical book that Eli possesses, reads, memorizes, carries, protects.
At the same time, because he has carried the book for so long (30 years!) he has had time to learn its entire contents by heart. In this sense, Eli has become the book, he IS the book. (Grammatically speaking, here the "of" in The Book of Eli functions as a genitive of apposition.) The double meaning of the book "OF" Eli sets up the ironic ending of the film. It also helps you understand the evolution of Solara, who begins as an unread novice but evolves into a book of her own.
Perhaps there will be a sequel: "The Book of Solara"?
At one key point in the film, Eli confesses to his co-traveler, Solara: "All these years I've been carrying it...I forgot to live what I learned from it." From the juxtaposition of Carnegie's and Eli's conceptions of the book, it's possible to surmise that the Hughes brothers want at least to communicate the point that ultimately this book is only as good or as bad as the people who use it. That's not a bad takeaway.
This film features a great deal of clever interplay with the book, its contents, and the possessors of the book. In fact, this film does "inter-texting" like no other.
It's all there in the double-meaning of the movie's title: The Book of Eli.
In the most obvious sense, the "of" in "book OF Eli" is possessive. It's the physical book that Eli possesses, reads, memorizes, carries, protects.
At the same time, because he has carried the book for so long (30 years!) he has had time to learn its entire contents by heart. In this sense, Eli has become the book, he IS the book. (Grammatically speaking, here the "of" in The Book of Eli functions as a genitive of apposition.) The double meaning of the book "OF" Eli sets up the ironic ending of the film. It also helps you understand the evolution of Solara, who begins as an unread novice but evolves into a book of her own.
Perhaps there will be a sequel: "The Book of Solara"?
No Country for Old Men
(2007)
Welcome to NihilismLand
20 April 2017
No Country for Old Men won four Academy Awards in 2007, including Best Picture and Best Director(s). Despite the critical acclaim, the Coen Brother's adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's novel was probably a bit of a head-scratcher to many people.
The film's narrative begins in familiar fashion, introducing you to the main characters and setting up the plot using recognized, established filmic devices. Llewelyn Moss stumbles upon a suitcase filled with cash and wants to keep it for himself. Anton Chigurh is the sociopath who will stop at nothing to get the cash back. Ed Bell is the Sheriff tasked with bringing Chigurh to justice and, it is presumed, keeping Moss and his wife, Carla Jean, from danger. In addition, there's a corporate backer, a hired gun, and a Mexican gang who are also after the cash (i.e., the McGuffin). So much for the usual narrative elements.
When the film continues far beyond the point that the expected narrative structure breaks down, viewers are left to grasp at what the film is actually about. What, if anything, is this film trying to say?
I propose that the film is, among other things, a meditation on the impotence of human and divine systems of justice in light of unflinching, unrelenting, random, radical evil. There are a number of elements in the film that indicate such a meditation, but one need not look much further than the meditations of Sheriff Bell, whose words begin and end the film. Consider:
"There was this boy I sent to the 'lectric chair at Huntsville Hill here a while back. My arrest and my testimony. He killt a fourteen-year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn't any passion to it. Told me that he'd been planning to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he'd do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell. 'Be there in about fifteen minutes'. I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure."
With these words, the film's "story line" unfolds, with Sheriff Bell trying, and failing, to be effective.
At the end of the film, the retired Sheriff Bell describes a dream to his wife:
"It was like {my father and I} was both back in older times and I was on horseback going' through the mountains of a night. Going' through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on going'. Never said nothing' going' by. He just rode on past... and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin' fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. 'Bout the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was going' on ahead and he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up."
The film is nihilistic in both structure and content. If you would like to force a less despairing ending, Bell's dream could be interpreted as a ray of hope: a light shines in the darkness! On the other hand, it is a dream that he wakes up from.
I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. But that doesn't mean I can't try.
The film's narrative begins in familiar fashion, introducing you to the main characters and setting up the plot using recognized, established filmic devices. Llewelyn Moss stumbles upon a suitcase filled with cash and wants to keep it for himself. Anton Chigurh is the sociopath who will stop at nothing to get the cash back. Ed Bell is the Sheriff tasked with bringing Chigurh to justice and, it is presumed, keeping Moss and his wife, Carla Jean, from danger. In addition, there's a corporate backer, a hired gun, and a Mexican gang who are also after the cash (i.e., the McGuffin). So much for the usual narrative elements.
When the film continues far beyond the point that the expected narrative structure breaks down, viewers are left to grasp at what the film is actually about. What, if anything, is this film trying to say?
I propose that the film is, among other things, a meditation on the impotence of human and divine systems of justice in light of unflinching, unrelenting, random, radical evil. There are a number of elements in the film that indicate such a meditation, but one need not look much further than the meditations of Sheriff Bell, whose words begin and end the film. Consider:
"There was this boy I sent to the 'lectric chair at Huntsville Hill here a while back. My arrest and my testimony. He killt a fourteen-year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn't any passion to it. Told me that he'd been planning to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he'd do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell. 'Be there in about fifteen minutes'. I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure."
With these words, the film's "story line" unfolds, with Sheriff Bell trying, and failing, to be effective.
At the end of the film, the retired Sheriff Bell describes a dream to his wife:
"It was like {my father and I} was both back in older times and I was on horseback going' through the mountains of a night. Going' through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on going'. Never said nothing' going' by. He just rode on past... and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin' fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. 'Bout the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was going' on ahead and he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up."
The film is nihilistic in both structure and content. If you would like to force a less despairing ending, Bell's dream could be interpreted as a ray of hope: a light shines in the darkness! On the other hand, it is a dream that he wakes up from.
I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. But that doesn't mean I can't try.
Religulous
(2008)
Funny, Clever, Relevant -- Until The End
3 February 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Some have mistakenly called Religulous a "mock-umentary" but, no, the film is a legitimate documentary in that it documents real-life people and situations -- and then mocks them, much in the style of a Michael Moore documentary. The film has the feel of a travelogue, featuring Maher as a globe-trotting guide, sightseeing various religious sites and interviewing the "locals." With an iconoclast like Bill Maher along with Borat/Brüno director Larry Charles at the helm of this film, no one should be surprised that Religulous is happy to give offense. For believers especially, Religulous will feel like an affront, perhaps even an attack. And that's to be expected, when your host believes that "religion must die for mankind to live."
Religulous has plenty of genuinely funny moments, for instance when the senator says that you "don't have to pass an I.Q. test to be in the Senate," and it has some touching moments as well, for instance when the men from the Truck Stop church lay their hands upon Bill and pray for him. Religulous is at its best when it's gently or not-so-gently mocking religious extremes and religious extremists.
Unfortunately, Religulous lacks any sense of nuance or shades of difference, as it irrationally lumps all religious people and all religion into one heap of dangerous wrong-headedness, never mind the fact that religion has inspired and still inspires great people and great accomplishments. While the segment with the pro-evolution Vatican scientist and the segment with the agnostic priest in St. Peter's Square indicate that Maher/Charles might be capable of recognizing shades of gray, the rest of their film sees things mostly in black and white.
In addition, Religulous loses some credibility when it trots out the old Jesus-equals-Horus legend -- an idea that all modern Egyptologists deem laughable -- or when it misapplies modern standards of historical study to the writers of history in the ancient world. The movie also gives short shrift and a biased edit to biologist Francis Collins. (Viewers interested in giving Francis his day in court may want to check out his conversation with Richard Dawkins as recorded in the November 13, 2006, issue of TIME magazine.)
Religulous's biggest sin, however, is the end of the film, when Maher/Charles switch from what was a pretty funny satire to a truly a sad mode of end-of-the-world sermonizing. The irony is that Maher's concluding sermon is no less fundamentalistic, intolerant, absurd, arrogant, preachy, and fear-mongering, than some of the worst sermons of the religionists he criticizes. Like an End-Times Doomsayer, Maher ends his otherwise fun film with the proclamation: The End is Near! Repent (of Religion)! If the message were delivered with clear ironic intent, it might have worked. But, no, his "Religion Must Die Or Else" is seriously wrought. Pious earnestness is never pretty, but it's especially jarring when it comes from an otherwise smart critic like Maher.
Cut the sermon and you have a film worthy of the 7+ rating it presently enjoys on IMDb. Alas, keep the sermon and you have a film that is, in the end, an embarrassment to the freethinking cause.
Religulous has plenty of genuinely funny moments, for instance when the senator says that you "don't have to pass an I.Q. test to be in the Senate," and it has some touching moments as well, for instance when the men from the Truck Stop church lay their hands upon Bill and pray for him. Religulous is at its best when it's gently or not-so-gently mocking religious extremes and religious extremists.
Unfortunately, Religulous lacks any sense of nuance or shades of difference, as it irrationally lumps all religious people and all religion into one heap of dangerous wrong-headedness, never mind the fact that religion has inspired and still inspires great people and great accomplishments. While the segment with the pro-evolution Vatican scientist and the segment with the agnostic priest in St. Peter's Square indicate that Maher/Charles might be capable of recognizing shades of gray, the rest of their film sees things mostly in black and white.
In addition, Religulous loses some credibility when it trots out the old Jesus-equals-Horus legend -- an idea that all modern Egyptologists deem laughable -- or when it misapplies modern standards of historical study to the writers of history in the ancient world. The movie also gives short shrift and a biased edit to biologist Francis Collins. (Viewers interested in giving Francis his day in court may want to check out his conversation with Richard Dawkins as recorded in the November 13, 2006, issue of TIME magazine.)
Religulous's biggest sin, however, is the end of the film, when Maher/Charles switch from what was a pretty funny satire to a truly a sad mode of end-of-the-world sermonizing. The irony is that Maher's concluding sermon is no less fundamentalistic, intolerant, absurd, arrogant, preachy, and fear-mongering, than some of the worst sermons of the religionists he criticizes. Like an End-Times Doomsayer, Maher ends his otherwise fun film with the proclamation: The End is Near! Repent (of Religion)! If the message were delivered with clear ironic intent, it might have worked. But, no, his "Religion Must Die Or Else" is seriously wrought. Pious earnestness is never pretty, but it's especially jarring when it comes from an otherwise smart critic like Maher.
Cut the sermon and you have a film worthy of the 7+ rating it presently enjoys on IMDb. Alas, keep the sermon and you have a film that is, in the end, an embarrassment to the freethinking cause.
Sherlock Holmes
(2009)
Downey's Sherlock not just Elementary
2 May 2010
Since I like Robert Downey Jr. so much (especially his post-recovery incarnation), I had to exercise a bit of self-control in keeping my rating to a more modest 7 stars rather than an immodest 8 stars.
Guy Ritchie has directed a solid film featuring a vision of Holmes that adheres to Arthur Conan Doyle's original vision: brilliant, eccentric, unkempt, and erratic. But unlike Billy Wilder with /The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes/(1970), Ritchie -- perhaps out of respect for Downey Jr's real-life recovery -- is reticent about one aspect of the famous detective's personality: his penchant for recreational drugs.
The movie has a pretty good -- if also pretty predictable -- story-line centered on exposing the occult, i.e., the revealing of things hidden. The appeal of the Holmes genre is not the surprise plot twist (after all, if one is constantly expecting a plot twist, then one can hardly call it a surprise when the next plot twist turns up). Instead, the appeal of the books and films lies in the satisfaction received from learning just how Sherlock deduces the truth behind each and every mystery. That Downey Jr.'s Holmes gets to the truth in elementary fashion is certainly part of the appeal of this film.
Still more appealing is the way in which Downey Jr. conveys the conflicting emotions that underlie Sherlock's stiff upper lip. Even though the film follows a narrative arc that requires no character depth or development, Downey Jr. provides both. The same cannot be said for Jude Law's Dr. Watson, but that's not Law's fault: the film (as with the entire genre) is not about Dr. Watson, after all. In fact, Law does a fine job in the supporting role.
On the other hand, Rachel McAdams is miscast in the role of femme fatale, unable to hold her own in matching Downey Jr.s considerable acting chops. As for the antagonists, none are compelling, with the main villain, Lord Blackwood -- a sort of watered-down Anton LaVey -- being the least compelling of all. Fortunately, Blackwood won't be a main character in the sequel; let's hope the same is true for McAdams.
Perhaps the most significant accomplishment of this latest addition to the Sherlock Holmes movie corpus is the way in which it captures London in the last decades of the 1800's. With the Tower Bridge (in the process of being built) serving as both backdrop and stage, the viewer's vicarious experience of Victorian-era England rivals that of any cinematized Jane Austen novel.
Guy Ritchie has directed a solid film featuring a vision of Holmes that adheres to Arthur Conan Doyle's original vision: brilliant, eccentric, unkempt, and erratic. But unlike Billy Wilder with /The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes/(1970), Ritchie -- perhaps out of respect for Downey Jr's real-life recovery -- is reticent about one aspect of the famous detective's personality: his penchant for recreational drugs.
The movie has a pretty good -- if also pretty predictable -- story-line centered on exposing the occult, i.e., the revealing of things hidden. The appeal of the Holmes genre is not the surprise plot twist (after all, if one is constantly expecting a plot twist, then one can hardly call it a surprise when the next plot twist turns up). Instead, the appeal of the books and films lies in the satisfaction received from learning just how Sherlock deduces the truth behind each and every mystery. That Downey Jr.'s Holmes gets to the truth in elementary fashion is certainly part of the appeal of this film.
Still more appealing is the way in which Downey Jr. conveys the conflicting emotions that underlie Sherlock's stiff upper lip. Even though the film follows a narrative arc that requires no character depth or development, Downey Jr. provides both. The same cannot be said for Jude Law's Dr. Watson, but that's not Law's fault: the film (as with the entire genre) is not about Dr. Watson, after all. In fact, Law does a fine job in the supporting role.
On the other hand, Rachel McAdams is miscast in the role of femme fatale, unable to hold her own in matching Downey Jr.s considerable acting chops. As for the antagonists, none are compelling, with the main villain, Lord Blackwood -- a sort of watered-down Anton LaVey -- being the least compelling of all. Fortunately, Blackwood won't be a main character in the sequel; let's hope the same is true for McAdams.
Perhaps the most significant accomplishment of this latest addition to the Sherlock Holmes movie corpus is the way in which it captures London in the last decades of the 1800's. With the Tower Bridge (in the process of being built) serving as both backdrop and stage, the viewer's vicarious experience of Victorian-era England rivals that of any cinematized Jane Austen novel.
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