Reviews

Warhol's films had a lot in common with porn in that, no matter the subject, they tended to be exercises in repetition. If you are the type to find a certain fetishistic beauty in such a visual process, then you might enjoy this. Warhol was also quite the visual stylist. Despite the popular perception, he was a fairly hands on director. I've seen his editing and lighting notes and know from speaking with people that knew him that he took a keen interest in how all of his work looked. By the way, for those who care to know, the guy doing the blowing is Willard Maas.

One last word: If you really do want to see a spectacular depiction of oral sex, I'd recommend Blowjob Fantasies Volume XI.

I was going to write something lengthy, but after reading Mr. TXMike's comment I think he pretty much nailed it, plot, theme and all. All I can add is that for a feel-good sports-as-life movie this one ranks pretty high. It's about the best thing you'll ever see Costner in (okay, my opinion only) and Rene Russo never looked lovelier. As my friend from Houston said the film is not really about golf but about how a fella can get a lot more done for himself (and maybe even have a little fun) by taking a risk than by taking it easy, but also how playing it smart can be useful too. It's basically about having a balanced perspective, something we could all use.

I took a day off last week to look through the rest of my father's China slides at Columbia. I finished up early so I took the opportunity to go see Apocalypse Now at the Astor Plaza. It cost $10 but boy was it worth it. The additional footage was a treat. I now feel like I've seen a complete movie and for the first time it made sense to me. I actually got the gist of what Kurtz was about and why they wanted him terminated. I also got to know the boat crew better. In particular Chef. Frederic Forrest gave a great performance and much more of it was here. I've read that Coppola and Murch didn't just drop in the additional footage, that they re-edited the entire film and I can believe it. Almost every scene looked different to me, sometimes slightly but palpably so. I kept seeing things that I hadn't recalled seeing and found a rich and strange texture that I had never experienced before. Far from making the film messier, the additional footage made the film tighter for me, as I could really appreciate the orchestration of themes not to mention the sheer orchestration of materials to carry out the big set pieces (like Kilgore's raid). Also, seeing it on a big screen definitely helped. Especially in those parts where the added detail let you see pertinent details. For instance when Willard is reading Kurtz's dossier you can actually comprehend glimpses of the text and it's all very important (there's a reference in Kurtz's CV to his writing a thesis on the Philippines Insurrection -- a precursor to Vietnam). Even when Willard is reading Kurtz's manuscript at the end you could tell there was stuff in there that was actually relevant. It would be great if all those texts were presented on the DVD. All in all, I was immensely impressed. I watched a re-run of the Basinger series on American Film where they covered the war picture and it was very pro Platoon and anti Apocalypse Now. They even had a clip of Stone lambasting Coppola for his mythologizing artiness (boy, talk about the pot calling the kettle black). But I think the consensus now is that AN has stood up better than Platoon, because of it's more overarching approach. It's a bigger picture with a bigger vision, one that surpasses historical specificity. The film has taken on mythical proportions and will remain a monument of cinematic dreaming.

Well, I just saw a restored print of this at the Screening room. It is a marvelous piece, light and yet moving, filled with wonderful visuals, a great performance by Jack McGowran and a marvelous (and unfortunately out-of-print) score by everyone's favorite Beatle, George. The synopsis above just doesn't do justice to the film. Yes, it's about a daffy old guy who peers in on a lovely young woman living next door, but there's nothing creepy or pathetic about it. In fact, he's actually quite a bit a of a dashing and romantic figure in his own detached, weird way. One of the most notable things about the film is the art direction, done by the band/art collective The Fool. An obscure folk group (sort of a lesser Incredible String Band) they made the most of what was most likely a thin budget by pouring every ounce of energy into creating two amazing sets for the adjacent apartments of the old man and the young model. They are, without a doubt, two of the coolest looking places to live I have ever seen in a movie (I would give my eye-teeth to live in either one of those flats) and they form as much of a part of the main characters as the portrayal by the actors themselves. The old scientist lives in Celtic-Medieval warren, inspired by Pre-Raphaelite design, and the young model lives in a mod Sixties psychedelic/glam environment suffused with overtones of 20's/30's nostalgia. Both apartments then are filled with a yearning for the past and so, the old man becomes no more of a romanticist than the girl, despite his age. He is actually quite dashing in his cape and tuxedo when engaging in some of his later escapades, like some bandit out of a Fantomas picture. No, this movie isn't about a pathetic old guy lusting after a lithe young thing. It's about a few other things more interesting and perhaps more touching, but you'll have to find out for yourself. In any case it's a nice little treat worth finding, if you can.

I caught this on WNYC the other night and boy is it good! It reminds me a lot of Ivan's Childhood. What a crime this isn't on video. What a crime this guy, who's obviously done a lot of work isn't known at all in this country! But film history is riddled with people like this. There's probably a bazillion obscure European directors who've done great works which eclipse nearly anything any snot-nosed young Indie type is doing now.

Some enterprising DVD distributor could make a lot of cinephiles very happy. Anybody listening

I would first like to applaud director Michael Almereyda, producer Amy Hobby and actor Ethan Hawke for being possibly the first people to make a film inspired by a Birthday Party song. Secondly I would like to say that, if I should ever find myself in the position of teaching a high-school English course, I would definitely screen this adaptation of Hamlet while covering the play. That is not to say I find this the best rendition I have ever seen, but it comes pretty near close and I would rank it far higher than Branagh's film. A lot is made of the modernization of the play and how it provides some sort of metaphor for contemporary America or international corporate culture. Rubbish. The play is, as always, about people. I don't know why anyone would be so amazed that this play seems so appropriate in a contemporary setting. What I find remarkable is that it ever made as much sense during the time of its initial production. Shakespeare was not only ahead of his time, he was so vastly ahead of it that he was quite out of fashion, in most parts of the civilized world, for some period after his death (Racine and Corneille were considered the real guys). One can only imagine what an Elizabethan audience would have made of such a conscience stricken protagonist. In those days any prince worth his salt, faced with such an uncle as Claudius, would have hewed strictly to a 'shoot first, ask questions later' policy. If Almereyda's film seems so perfect, it is not that his execution, as good as it is, is so fitting of the material, it is that the material is so fitting of the execution. Expanding upon this I would like to say that the cast, for the most part is wonderful. Yes, even Mr. Hawke, who one doesn't think of as the strongest of actors, was finely suitable as a confused, young man of grave burden. Bill Murray was wonderful as Polonius, giving the character an ruefully comic twist that only he could provide (there were moments, when he was opining on Hamlet's madness, that I almost expected him to say, "The Ham-Man, that nut!"). Sam Shepard gave the most doleful and bitter performance of the The Ghost I have ever seen, Karl Geary provided a wonderfully warm Horatio (why has this guy not been in more films?) and Liev Schreiber, Diane Venora, Steve Zahn, etc. were all marvelous in their respective roles. The film is beautifully shot, the settings are perfect and I enjoyed each and every little in-joke I managed to catch (was that a clip of "The Crow" at the Blockbuster?). All in all a great introduction to Shakespeare's world (our world), a fine first Hamlet for anyone to see and an all-around damn fine picture!

Just kidding. No, but seriously, it takes a film like this to make you realize what an artistic genius Ed Wood really was. Right now Tarantino is thinking, "I resurrected your career for this?" Makes Waterworld look like 2001.

When I first saw this film I felt fairly unsatisfied by the

seeming lack of emotional content. The whole affair was so

wispy and seemingly unmotivated that I could barely feel any

concern as one sister and then all the others committed suicide.

It was like, oh, she threw herself on the fence? Oh well. But

then a strange thing occurred. I began brooding on the film as

if it were pieces of a dream I was struggling to connect, if

only because they seemed to harbor some great meaning. I

couldn't get the film out of my head as I tried to solve the

mystery of why the girls had killed themselves. After about a

week of this process, which was greatly facilitated by repeated

listenings to the Air soundtrack, I came to some measure of

comprehension without removing the least bit of fascination for

the Lisbon ladies. This unironically, put me in the same

rhetorical position as the boys and gave me greater insight into

why Trip Fontaine left Lux all alone

Man, was this grim. The only thing that kept me going through this morass was the sight of Tom Waits's visage. The only other worthwhile thing was the cinematography, which was fascinating in a rather lurid way. I think this might be the first film I've seen where there seemed to be absolutely no grain in the image. It was almost like the Clowns-on-velvet version of Technicolor. Otherwise this whole mess was a rather skippable endeavour.

I don't have so much as a comment on this film as a question. Like a lot of Malick's fans I was a little disappointed by this film. There was too much over-reliance on voice-over and flashbacks and yet so much was truly effective, from the great acting (the dynamics between Nolte/Koteas and Penn/Caviezel were terrific) to the cinematography to Hans Zimmer's perfectly brooding score. I've heard from critics and from actors who were in the film that the version being shown is somewhat cut. Does anyone know if there was a longer or different version intended? I have this hunch that all the pieces exist to make this a truly good film.

Jesus, is this a good movie. Sam Raimi is one of the great underrated talents of Hollywood and with this achievement I hope he gets some of the recognition he deserves. Equal credit must go to screenwriter Scott Smith and actors Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton. There's a scene at the climax of the film that will just tear your heart out and the reason it works is because it's not only written well but acted excellently. If either of those elements had been sub-par the whole thing would have fallen like a bad souffle. This movie is a testament to the craftsmanship of solid collaboration.

I somehow have the feeling that many of the people commenting on this film are neither filmmakers nor artists, nor have any particular reverence for either. If so, they wouldn't be so sanguine about the notion of remaking a classic. Many critics ask, "Is Psycho so sacrosanct that it can't be remade?" My response would be 'yes.' Some things achieve a sort of definitiveness by their very uniqueness and excellence. They define themselves in such a way that nobody else could possibly copy it. That's my view, anyway. I take it there are a lot of people who don't share this sentiment. If some successful novelist were to take the text of The Great Gatsby, change a few words, add some sex scenes, and proclaim it a "new" novel there would be those who would hail the author for his sheer nerve and novelty. Likewise, if Hanson were to re-record Abbey Road using the same exact backing tracks, merely substituting their voices for those of the Beatles, there would be plenty who would rush out, buy it and cherish every second. I could go on and on like this. The point is, some people take creation as a very serious, soul-fulfilling, even religous, experience, whereas others see it as wallpaper. Or to put it another way, screw the artist, I like what I consume.

One more thought. Do you suppose Van Sant would be completely untroubled if someone made a shot-for-shot replica of Drugstore Cowboy? How about Good Will Hunting with Leonardo diCaprio? Now there's an idea for a successful remake.

One of the problems of doing a semi-fictionalized narrative is that the resulting piece will invariably be compared to its sources. The way to combat this is by creating something that is fresh, dynamic and full of ideas, great story and characters: something that overwhelms the audience and makes them forget what its derivations are. This, I regret to say, is what "Velvet Goldmine" failed to do. I couldn't but be aware, as I sat through the film, of all the references passing across the screen, whether they be to people, places, songs or events. This was particularly evident during the performance sequences. I'd watch Ewan McGregor doing his Iggy thing and be thinking, "My that's a good cover of 'TV Eye.' That Mr. Pop was one hell of a performer. I kind of wish I was watching him now." The same was doubly true of the fella playing Bowie. I kept thinking, naggingly, throughout the whole movie, that these guys were but pale imitations of the real thing. It was very distracting. Now, several years ago I saw "I Shot Andy Warhol", a film I found thoroughly engaging. To be certain, there were inaccuracies, characters who were not too faithfully portrayed (Candy Darling comes to mind). However, I wasn't aware of it while I was watching the movie. I was too absorbed in the drama. Mary Harron might have taken liberties, but she put on a good show, something Todd Haynes failed to do. The wan figure of Brian Slade, petulant and insipid, offered little from beginning to end. I could just as easily have been watching a perfume ad. Curt Wild wasn't much better. If these fellas were supposed to be revolutionaries, they sure didn't revolve much. The young reporter at the center of the film was such a hapless dolt that I could hardly be bothered to share his passion. Haynes certainly has an eye for style. The film was a lavish and beautiful thing to behold, sort of a moving Pierre & Gilles composition. But pageantry isn't its own reward. It is possible that this might have been fully fitting with his intention. He might have been principally interested in creating some sort of didactic exegesis. But his ideas weren't strong enough, it was too weak an intellectual broth to hold much critical weight. And if you haven't got enough brains to pitch a good argument you might as well charm the old fashioned way, with character, dialogue, story and plot. And frankly, this picture was a bore.