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morgangster
Reviews
Changeling (2008)
Sort of Awesome, Sort of Annoying
Clint Eastwood's newest project, Changeling, is sort of awesome, sort of annoying. The true story of Christine Collins, a telephone operator and single mother in 1928 Los Angeles, has a promising script and cast, but fails to accomplish any major feats on screen. At times the dialog feels forced. For example, when Jolie adds an ambient "Sport" moniker or makes references to Cleopatra. It's as if Eastwood is saying to the audience "Yes, this really is 1928, I promise." Historical accuracy is important in a film claiming truth, but Changeling is a bit like scaling a wall there is not much to hold on to.
But what little there is to hold on to is both enjoyable and sophisticated. Angelina Jolie, who plays Christine, gives a convincing portrayal of a mother who returns home from work to find that her son Walter is missing. In fact, Jolie might have scored a career best performance with Changeling, but it is hard to say whether or not this is enough to carry the film.
Jolie holds her head high as a mother who loses her son and receives little help from the Los Angeles Police Department during the search. The 1920s were wrought with scandal for the L.A.P.D. and Christine Collins find herself in the midst of them. After months of search, the police return Walter to Christine only to find that she denies that he is her son. Despite the mounting evidence supporting her claim (her Walter is uncircumcised, the new Walter is not; the new Walter is 3 inches shorter, etc.), the police continually deny that there is anything wrong. Because of the recent scandals, the L.A.P.D does not want to admit any wrongdoing with the Collins case.
The tone of this story seems to border between over-the-top melodrama and a dead-on homage to 1930s dramatic style. This is most notable in the scenes featuring Captain J.J. Jones (Jeffrey Donovan) whose performance is cookie-cutter bad cop for the period. Eastwood navigates the "bad cops" with ease and never allows them to become satire, but it borders on the edge. Likewise with the necessary court scenes in the latter portion, Eastwood makes the material work, even if just barely. It is hard to diminish the negative affects of these melodramatic choices, but then again, it is a story about true events. Who am I to say whether or not the courtroom proceedings actually had that much fervor and zest? It is hard to find fault in conceivable truth.
Another strong performance in the film comes from John Malkovich as Reverend Gustav Briegleb, a man determined to expose the misdeeds of the Los Angeles Police Department via his radio show. Briegleb vows to help Christine in her quest for her son as he believes that "Walter" is not the same boy. Malkovich gives a convincing role as a man of God, a man of principle, and a man of determination. He plays the hero, but never saddles up his white horse. His heroics come naturally as a man who wants the best for his city and the people within it his mission is never glitzy, never self-indulgent.
Malkovich and Jolie together save the one part of the film that could have poisoned the entire piece. When Miss Collins refuses to be quiet on the issue of her son and is convinced by Briegleb to go public with the misdoings of the police, she is whisked off to a mental ward. Until she admits that she is making the whole impostor-son bit up, she will remain in the ward. The mental ward scenes were in complete discord with the rest of the film. The inclusion of stereotypical elements like electro-shock therapy and evil nurses allowed these scenes to toe the line of ridiculousness. If it were not for a convincing and levelheaded performance from Jolie, nothing good would have come from these scenes. And when Malkovich's character swoops in to save her from the grips of the ward and the police, it never once feels trite. Eastwood should really thank these two and consider the possibility of never, ever filming any hospital-like scenes ever again.
The unsaturated color choice for the film gives an immediate feeling of doom and sadness for the picture, but a more upbeat, stylized look might have complimented the film better. The cinematography attempted to mirror the motif of the film but ended up missing the mark and falling more into dark and muddled than stylistically relevant.
With the film clocking in a 140 minutes, it is impressive that it never feels that long. Eastwood navigates through a significant chunk of time with little duress and manages to take on a troubling story without being all too troubling. Easily an audience favorite and definite Oscar-bait, as the United States release is set for November under the title "The Exchange." This film is mass of "in-betweens." It is neither complex nor simple; neither heartfelt nor underwhelming. I find it hard to love it, but I do not hate it either. That's the problem: nothing clicks. It is within this realm that I find this film, more than anything else, a tad bit frustrating. It is a virtuous attempt and no doubt going to do well both in box office numbers and with awards. But because of that, I wanted more punch. I wanted more zing, more attitude. The film melts quickly in my mind and becomes just another biopic that might soon be forgotten. A little originality is crucial, especially for a film being considered for the Cannes Film Festival's highest honor. This film leaves me generally satisfied all whist thinking, "Come on, Clint. You could've done better."
Second Hand Wedding (2008)
Not a Bad Way to Spend an Hour and a half
After a week of watching depressing, dark, melodramatic films so inclined to be shown at the Cannes Film Festival, I welcomed a viewing of Second Hand Wedding a lighthearted wedding comedy from New Zealand with open arms. Not usually a fan of the genre myself, this romantic comedy seemed immediately promising as it followed not a young, beautiful couple of the verge of matrimony, but instead on the mother of a young, beautiful girl on the verge of matrimony. While not exactly anything novel to sound the alarms about, it was refreshing to see the portrait of a middle-aged woman and all her quirks on screen, as so often these types of characters are muddled sideshows in comedies of this genre.
The story follows Jill Rose, a middle-aged teacher who knows everything about getting the best bargains. With her friend Muffy by her side, the pair traverse the city every weekend in search of the perfect items at garage sales. The friends are a negotiating dream team: haggling prices and finding rare pieces among the rubbish. Brian, Jill's husband, puts up with his wife's habit and even jokes about the fact that the Rose family "never gives anything away!" When their daughter Cheryl decides to marry longtime boyfriend Stu, Cheryl is unable to tell her mother for the fear that she will make a mockery of her wedding by decorating it using all of her second hand items. She does, however, tell her dad but makes him swear to keep the engagement a secret until she can find a way to plan the wedding without the help of her mother. Cheryl even goes so far as to refuse to wear her engagement ring, lest her mother find out.
When Jill discovers that her daughter has been hiding the truth about her engagement, she loses heart in the sport of bargain hunting and detaches herself from her husband. Meanwhile, Cheryl and Stew who had previously said they would pay for their wedding themselves sign a contract for a wedding facility they cannot pay for. Cheryl then enlists the help of her mother to not only solve the monetary problems with the wedding but also to mend their relationship. Jill and Muffy hold a garage sale of their own to raise the money for Cheryl and Stew's wedding.
While this movie hosts an all New Zealand-based cast, the lack of star-power does not hurt the film in any way. Geraldine Brophy (Jill Rose) holds her own on the screen as both an agent of the film's comedy and its drama. Brophy's performance between the two genres is fluid and convincing despite the somewhat predictable themes of the story. With seemingly little effort, Brophy bounces between a quirky bargain-hunter on the prowl for the next great find and a mother whose only child has betrayed her on purpose.
Like any good wedding comedy, Second Hand Wedding garners its success from a formula that, though familiar, never seems too apparent. While it is following in the chiseled footsteps of romantic comedies that have come before, the film carries its own level of uniqueness that helps to break the mold of the typical. In this sense, the relatively unknown cast works in the film's favor as and having the focus on the parents instead of the young couple might attract a new audience to the genre.
That said, Second Hand Wedding never shirks its responsibility of being a light-hearted family comedy. Save for a mean-spirited fellow teacher at Jill's school and a lurking second-hand dealer that competes for valuables at the garage sales, the film has only one major obstacle: the secret Cheryl hides from her mother. Once the secret is exposed, there is only one direction the film can take: reconciliation. There is nothing new or inspiring about this film, but it does have its fair share of laughs all the while maintaining a level of reality: with heart attacks, lies, and disappointment.
While seemingly formulaic, the film never enters into an entirely predictable world. The characters retain a level of normalcy and humanity that allows them to be transient on screen without feeling empty or shallow. These characters do not have any personal agendas or crusades and the film boasts no major theme or message. It doesn't tiptoe around larger issues and does not attempt to tackle more than it can handle. The film is pure and simple, and while some might find that trite and overdone, it remains unique in a cheerful and uplifting space. A viewer might not grasp a larger meaning of life from this film, but it certainly is not offensive in any way. It accomplishes what it sets out to accomplish and tries for no more. What better than a film that knows its place in the cinema firmament? It's not trying to buy the cow when all it has money for is the milk.
As a member of the target market for this type of film, I'd say it was affective. I laughed when I was supposed to laugh, I cried when I was supposed to cry. I never once looked down at my watch or wished I were somewhere else. If asked about the film, I would recommend it, but probably only to my girlfriends or my mom. It's certainly not a film anyone will remember in 20 years (10 years, for that matter) but it is a blip on the radar of solid romantic comedies.
Palermo Shooting (2008)
Cannes Fiasco
"It's a Wim Wenders film. It is either going to be brilliant or a complete joke. You have to go." This was the first thing I heard about the film Palermo Shooting, and seeing how Matt Noller was usually right about his critiques of film, I decided to go.
Not a full minute into the film, Matt and I simultaneously look at each other under the glow of the screen in the Grand Lumiere Theater and say, unanimously, "Uh-oh." To say that watching the film was an excruciating experience would be an understatement of its atrocities. Normally, when someone offends me deeply, I write a letter to try to sort out exactly what went wrong.
Here is my open letter to the film Palermo Shooting, entitled: You Stole Two Hours of My Life and I Would Like Them Back, Please! Dear Palermo Shooting, Why are you here in Cannes this year? You seemed so terribly out of place last night. This really, really wasn't your year. In fact, I'm kind of offended that you showed up. I am wondering if you were embarrassed by yourself last night, because you should be. You were acting ridiculous, and in the Grand Lumiere Theater and everything! I felt bad for you, really I did. Sometimes, when you were being particularly annoying, I tried to close my eyes and fall asleep, just to avoid second-hand embarrassment. But then your loud, bludgeoning German voice wouldn't allow for that. So, thanks, for starters.
But let's talk about this. I mean
I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. It was a satire, right? Right? You know, like a joke? Like, "Oh, here's another film about the meaning of life and seizing the day and don't waste time
aren't I funny and witty, ha ha?" Right? You didn't honestly believe you were being original with all that "death is just the absence of love" junk, did you?
You did.
Well, in that case, I feel even worse for you. Most of the movie I felt like I was trapped in a living Myspace page, complete with melancholy music, out of kilter stares and a tattoo-clad German man that I never once cared about. OK, almost once, but then the whirring violin music made me think of a bad Italian soap opera and I forgot to care.
In fact, that music made me feel the opposite of compassion. There were times when I really hoped that hooded figure (you know, the one that shoots invisible arrows from the future) would kill that guy Finn and the movie would be over just so I didn't have to hear any more music.
Now I do have a few questions for you, just for my own peace of mind. Did that scene in Death's Library, the one between Finn and Frank (AKA Death), did that really happen? Or did I make that up? I am hoping that it was a figment of my sick imagination
my own selfish, masochistic ways that wanted the movie to be even worse than it already was. In all of the terrible scenes in all of the terrible movies, this one takes the cake. Not only was the dialog completely laughable (Finn: Not now! I love my life! Frank: It didn't look that way to me. And I looked very carefully. Finn: Maybe I was too busy! Frank: No, that's not it. You did not honor life, Finn Gilbert!), but the lighting, the scenery, the costumes
everything in this scene was terrible. Dennis Hopper has definitely run out of options if he agreed, unforced and non-drugged, to do that scene.
You did give us something, though. You did give us a fun game to play after the film, a game called "Would You Rather" consisting of all the things we would rather do besides watching your movie ever again. It went a little something like this: Would you rather watch an entire season of Dharma and Greg, or watch Palermo Shooting? While the choice was always easy, it gave us a break from repeating "that was just so bad!" over and over. You provided us hours of entertainment for after the movie, which I'm not sure was the point.
The only way your movie could have been worse was if Keanu Reeves had been the lead role. Actually, Keanu might have made it better! It is too hard to say at this point. (Which, is to say, that movie was really awful.) So I've been a little harsh, I'm sorry. But you should be sorry, too. Your movie took the spot of some other director's film that could have had its big break at Cannes. The script, the production, the financing, the editing
it all had to go through so many people that I'm not sure exactly how this film got made. Just think of all of the people that looked at this and said "Yes! Let's do it!" It's disturbing. However it happened, it was a waste. For a movie that was so blatant about "not wasting life"
you sure wasted everyone's time and money.
Maybe take your own mantra of "death is just the absence of love" and realize that you should spend more time living yourself and less time making movies. Not only would your life be better, but ours would, too.
Such is life, I suppose
Morgan