Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

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Sucks and the City

Two years ago, I saw the (first) Sex and the City movie, and wrote in these pages about how I thought the men who dissed it on principle were being silly.

Today I saw the new movie, Sex and the City 2. In terms of being completely horrible, it’s everything the first movie wasn’t. Badly written, stupidly acted, and inanely costumed, even by SatC standards, it has nothing going for it. It’s just about the worst movie I’ve seen in a couple of years.

The dialogue is stilted and dumb, and the writers took every opportunity to stick in every tired one-liner joke they could dig up. As Miranda is about to be driven off for a day of shopping in Abu Dhabi, she shouts out the car window, “Abu Dhabi doo!”

Oy.

I’m saying this as a fan of the TV series, and as someone who enjoyed the first movie: if you haven’t already seen the new one, give it a miss. If you absolutely must see it, at least wait until you can rent it and watch it at home. It’s cheaper that way, and gives you the option of turning it off when you’ve had enough.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

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Ennio Morricone is 81 today

Ennio MorriconeMost of you have probably not heard of Ennio Morricone. And, yet, he’s one of the most prolific film composers ever, having written music for almost 500 movies and television programs since assisting on his first effort in 1959.

A good friend of Sergio Leone, the composer has worked with the director in many films. He’d already worked on almost 20 movies before really kicking off his career in 1964 with Leone’s Per un pugno di dollar (A Fistful of Dollars, 1964), following that up with Per qualche dollaro in più (For a Few Dollars More, 1965) and Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo (The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, 1966) — the trio of “spaghetti westerns” that also set Clint Eastwood’s career going. He scored other foreign-made westerns, including Two Mules for Sister Sara (1970).

And he worked on Hollywood films, as well. His score for Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America (1984) won the Golden Globe for best score. Maybe you know his work in Brian de Palma’s The Untouchables (1987), Barry Levinson’s Bugsy (1991) and Disclosure (1994), or Warren Beatty’s Bulworth (1998).

The Untouchables and Bugsy scores were nominated for Academy Awards, as were three others of his scores, and in 2007, Morricone was given an honorary award for his lifetime of work.

Check out Clint Eastwood’s In the Line of Fire (1993), and Phil Joanou’s crime drama State of Grace (1990), starring Sean Penn, Ed Harris, and Gary Oldman.

And now, in his 80s, Morricone is still working, scoring a few movies and TV shows every year, even after 50 years of it.

Viva Ennio Morricone, e buon compleanno!

Monday, June 08, 2009

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Computers in movies and television

In 2007, I had a series in these pages about technology in Star Trek. I remembered that series the other day, when I read an article in New Scientist about the science in Battlestar Galactica.[1]

The New Scientist article focuses on human physiology and psychology, and on gravity and g-forces. It doesn’t look at power, speed, computers, astronomical issues, or any of a number of other things that would have been fun to see covered. Oh, well.

But it made me think to come back to the idea of how technology is portrayed — in particular, how computers had been and are depicted in movies and television.

Star Trek, of course, and other futuristic stories, such as 2001: A Space Odyssey (which, at the time the movie was made,[2] was still set more than 30 years in the future), sported talking computers that showed varying degrees of intelligence. The Enterprise’s computer mostly responded to spoken commands and queries, but other computers in the Star Trek universe were semi-sentient to the point of being able to be confused or tricked, an angle that was central to the plot of more than one episode. And 2001’s HAL-9000, well... we all know what happened there, whether or not we understood what was happening.

But cinematic views of contemporary computers have always been somewhat odd, usually aimed at being obvious or flashy. In the old days, they always consisted of banks and banks of tape drives and flashing lights, long after real computers had few or none of those. As personal computers came around and more people had more realistic images of computers — boxes on their desks, rather than mysterious roomfuls of equipment — the tape-drives-and-lights depiction had to change.

Now, computers look like what we’re used to seeing, but what they can do seems just about unlimited. The stuff that’s comical now has to do with those limitless capabilities and the silly user interfaces.

Computers on television can search for anything, find anything, display anything. They can zoom in on the minutest details, rotate images in three dimensions to show any perspective, and go through millions or billions of data records or documents in no time at all. They understand commands or queries in human language, just as the Star Trek computer did, except we have to type the instructions, not speak them.

The interesting thing about that last bit is that it’s actually backward from what the real technology can do: we’re much better at having a computer turn the spoken language into the right words than we are at having the computer understand what those words and sentences mean. My former colleagues at IBM’s Watson Research Center have long had the ViaVoice products working quite well, but they’ve only recently begun a “grand challenge” project to get a computer to understand human-language questions well enough to play Jeopardy! competitively.

We often see police investigators zooming in on low-quality surveillance videos and “enhancing” a cropped portion in order to identify a face, read a sign or a car’s license plate, or the like. A certain amount of computer-enhancement can, indeed, be done, and technology for image processing is getting better all the time. That said, for the most part what they’re doing is ridiculous. Image data can only be extrapolated to a point, and the reality is that information that isn’t there can’t be created out of nothing. A low-resolution image can’t magically become high-resolution with the aid of a computer, and if you zoom in on a 30-pixel-square portion of a grainy, one-megapixel security-camera image, you will never, with any computer, get a clear image of the suspect’s face.

The same goes for the 3-D rotation: such manipulation is possible, and it’s done all the time when the 3-D data are available. But a two-dimensional source does not have that information, and, beyond approximation and guesswork, such an image can’t be rotated to show a side view.

When was the last time you did a search on your computer and wound up with a large blinking, beeping box in the middle of the screen, saying, “NO MATCH FOUND”? A pop-up box with an “OK” button on it, maybe, but we just don’t have them blink and beep repeatedly.

The other thing we don’t have them do is display the thing to be searched for — often a face or a fingerprint — on the left side of the screen, while rapidly flashing all the unmatched images we’re searching through on the right side. That may look cool on TV (which is why they do it), but in reality it would slow the search down so much that it’d be entirely useless. No one would ever design a real search program that did that.

Finally, in the movies people always seem able to go up to any computer, start any program, and use it expertly. They can even do this with special-purpose computers, not just ones that run Windows or Unix or MacOS. To address the most ridiculous case that comes to my mind: it would simply not be possible to connect your laptop to a space-alien’s computer and upload a computer virus that would take out the computer system and defeat the aliens.

Suspension of disbelief has its limits.
 


[1] The recent, well-received series, of course, with Edward James Olmos, not the horrible, short-lived one from the late ’70s, with Lorne Greene.

[2] And, for the record, the book came from the movie’s screenplay, not the other way around.

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

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Movie review: Steam

Poster for 'Steam'Last week, I saw a movie that I really liked: Kyle Schickner’s Steam. Mr Schickner’s philosophy is that there can be interesting films about people other than straight white men, and he — a straight white man — is committed to making interesting, engaging, thoughtful movies about women (straight or lesbian), gay men, African-Americans, and other characters that mainstream filmdom is less inclined to take risks on.

Steam tells three stories of three women, woven around their periodic chance encounters in the steam room of their health club. The steam room provides the title, and an occasional point of focus. But the three stories — of a young college student (Kate Siegel), a 40-ish single mother (Ally Sheedy), and an aging African-American woman (Ruby Dee) — are what form the movie, as it weaves us in and out among them. We watch the three women as they go about their lives and cope with domineering manipulative men... and we see the changes in them as they learn, at each different age, to build strength of their own.

Cartoonist Alison Bechdel popularized a test for movies; a character in her cartoon strip will only watch a movie if:

  1. it has at least two women in it,
  2. who talk to each other,
  3. about something besides a man.
This movie does not actually pass that test, as it turns out. Yet I think that anyone who would apply that test would be pleased with Steam, nonetheless.

Steam is a movie worth watching if you don’t judge your movies by how many explosions they have (none), or by whether the boy and the girl are together in the end (they’re not).

The only thing is that it might be difficult to find. If you see a screening of it (and the previous paragraph doesn’t put you off), go. I saw it at my local independent-film theatre, the Jacob Burns Film Center, and had the opportunity to talk with the filmmaker (writer, director, producer), Kyle Schickner, afterward.

Otherwise, the DVD is due out this fall. I’ll be buying it. [And you can watch for it on Mr Schickner’s web site, FenceSitterFilms (sorry: the entire web site is in Flash; I hate it when people do that).]

Sunday, April 05, 2009

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Lions on Madagascar?

On my recent flight home from San Francisco, the movie shown on the plane was Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa. I haven’t seen the popular Madagascar films, and I didn’t watch the one on the plane, except to glance up at it from time to time. I noted that some of the main characters are lions and zebras.

Hm, said I, lions do not live on Madagascar, at least not wild ones. Nor do zebras. Madagascar is an island, the fourth largest in the world. The wild lions and zebras in Africa had no way to migrate from the mainland to the island off the coast of Mozambique (where these animals do, indeed, live in the wild).

Though the Bronx Zoo has renovated the old Lion House as a Madagascar wildlife exhibit, there’s no connection between Madagascar and lions (and there are no lions in the new Madagascar house in the Bronx — lemurs, fossas, crocodiles, and other animals, but no lions, and no zebras).

But I suppose that lions also do not speak and are not bipedal, so I shouldn’t be too picky about points of habitat, should I?

 
Barry writes 100 times:

I will stop being such a pedant.
I will stop being such a pedant.
I will stop being ...

Monday, July 21, 2008

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Weekend montage

Weekend montage

Sunday, June 08, 2008

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Sex and the City

I saw the new Sex and the City movie yesterday. I should start by saying these:

  1. I saw the entire TV series, and loved it.
  2. I haven’t been following the reviews of the movie. I was going to see it, no matter what the reviews said, and I expected to like it.
  3. I’ve heard that if you have a Y chromosome, you’re pretty much required to bash the movie. I just don’t get that.

That is, I don’t get the whole anti-SatC thing among many men. Men who’ve seen it and say they hate it often seem to have seen a different movie than I did. Men who’ve not seen it and say they hate it make me wonder how one can try to talk with any intelligence about someone one hasn’t seen. It’s certainly OK to say, as I say that I expected to like it, that you expect to hate it and have therefore chosen not to see it. So, sure, say that.

If you do, you’ll miss an amusing movie. It’s not great cinema. It’s not deep, it’s not arty, it’s not transcendental. It won’t change your life. It’s a fun two and a half hours, whether or not you understand the concept of paying a thousand dollars for a pair of shoes, or five thousand for a handbag.

I did enjoy it. I enjoyed the story of four fictional women and their fictional lives. Perhaps the mistake of its detractors is that they try to read too much reality into the fiction. But through the fiction, it shows us lots of bits of reality, stuff that rings true as discrete points — stuff about friendships, relationships, fighting and resolving our conflicts; stuff about being independent and about relying on people we love; stuff about getting through life with our sanity intact.

If anything bothered me about the movie, it was that it had less “punch” than the TV series did. On TV, they had half an hour to work through a topic, the theme of the episode. 30 minutes to play with one aspect of sex, love, friendship, relationship, and life... while developing the characters and the situations for the next episode. In the movie, the writers had to make five half-hours all work together as one block, and I think that dulled the edge a bit.

And, yes, that’s the worst I can say about it. It was silly in bits, sad in bits, happy in bits, and in the whole, a fun afternoon, chilling in an air conditioned cinema on a 95-degree New York day.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

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4... 3... 2...

A film group I belong to went to see 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days last Sunday. To say that it’s a cheerless film would be understating things significantly; our next film will be The Counterfeiters, taking place in a Nazi concentration camp, and I’m guessing it’ll be less grim than this one was.

The setup is simple: it’s 1987 in Romania, Gabita is pregnant, and she arranges an abortion with the help of her college roommate, Otilia. An illegal abortion, as they all were in Ceauşescu’s Romania.

The story is not so simple, though. It’s less a story of Gabita and the abortion than it is a story of Otilia, her relationship with her friend, the affect this has on her romantic relationship, and how she copes with the whole situation. It’s a moving story, and it’s not easy to watch.

The film won the Palme d’Or at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival, and it’s been nominated for a Golden Globe for best foreign language film.

We had an interesting discussion after the movie, which hit on a topic that’s come up in these pages before. Otilia does a great deal for her friend, taking care of most of the setup and risking arrest and prison along with her. The women arrange with a man, Bebe, for the abortion, and they get a hotel room. Otilia brings the man to the room, where Gabita is waiting. They discuss the procedure, and because of the lateness — the pregnancy is about halfway to term — it turns out that Bebe wants more money than they have.

He says he’ll leave and come back when they have more money, but they’ve already paid for the room, Gabita doesn’t want to wait yet longer, and they’re scared — partly because Gabita wants to get it over with and partly because they stand to go to prison for what they’re doing.

And Bebe makes it clear that he’ll do it for the money they have if they both have sex with him. “Which one of you will go first?”, he says.

When we talked about the movie afterward, and I said that the roommate did a lot for her friend, I added that Otilia “even got raped for her.”

A man in the group said that she didn’t get raped; it wasn’t rape because she consented.

No, I said, that was rape. There wasn’t consent to it at all. They were clearly coerced, backed into a corner with no real option, and just because a woman isn’t kicking and screaming doesn’t mean she consented.

He insisted that it wasn’t rape. The women at the table universally agreed that it was, and one said that any woman would call it rape.

The guy persisted in saying that it wasn’t, adding that, if anything, it was prostitution, giving Bebe sex in exchange for a service.

At which point I said, “OK, you are now officially a pig.”

And we see another example of one of the huge problems we have with stopping rape: too, too often, men will make excuses for why “it’s not rape.” If she wasn’t “asking for it” or “lying”, then she “consented”.

So, here’s the request for my readers: If you see this film, make note of that scene, from where they start discussing how far along the pregnancy is. And post a comment back here, telling me whether you consider that the women were raped or not.

I promise I won’t call you a pig, however you respond (but, um, you really do have to see the movie to qualify for that).

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

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Oil!

Over the weekend, I saw the movie There Will Be Blood, the Oscar-nominated film about an oilman who gets his start at the turn of the 20th century. The movie opens with Daniel Day-Lewis’s character standing in a shallow mine shaft, hacking away at a rock wall with a pick-axe. And do you know what the first thing I thought was?

“Yeef! No eye protection!

Yes, really, that’s the first thing I thought: no eye protection, and no helmet. I guess I’m well into modern sensibilities. But, hey, the man’s asking for trouble. And, indeed, he does get injured, but not from flying pieces of rock: he falls and breaks his leg.

And that’s the entry of Daniel Plainview into the business of turning things in the ground into money. The plot outline on IMDB says it’s a story about “family, greed, religion, and oil.” The “blood” in the title is a reference to all of those, metaphorically, as well as to the real blood that was shed in those rough and dangerous times. Based on the Upton Sinclair novel Oil!, the story is a literary tragedy, well told and well acted — excellently acted, as we expect from the likes of Daniel Day-Lewis and Ciarán Hinds. (And given the focus of Sinclair’s The Jungle and King Coal, it’s not surprising that work-related injuries figure prominently in the story.)

And yet, with all that, I can’t say that I liked the movie that much. In that, of course, I know I’ll put myself in the minority. The acting is certainly wonderful, and I found some of the story compelling. But I also thought that the film was too long for the story, and that Daniel Plainview seemed like a caricature by the end (indeed, by the midpoint, to tell the truth).

A moviegoer in the row behind me commented, as he left, that he hoped to forget that he ever saw this movie. I won’t go nearly that far: I think I’m glad I saw it, and I certainly liked aspects of it. I just can’t say that I liked the movie as a whole.

Friday, January 18, 2008

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Movie, Movie

On Morning Edition today, Kenneth Turan briefly reviewed the documentary film Taxi to the Dark Side. I saw that film about two months ago, and wanted to post about it then, after I’d let it settle in for a few days. But it was quite disturbing, and I didn’t get to it. NPR’s review has shaken it back out.

Alex Gibney gives us a film that looks, very much in detail, at our abusive “interrogation” methods by interviewing some of the soldiers who did them — soldiers who, in many cases, were not specifically trained for interrogations and had very little guidance. It takes us from Abu Ghraib to Guantánamo Bay, and from the moral high ground we used to command to the moral depths we’ve put ourselves into.

One thing that makes this film particularly effective is that Mr Gibney does present us with people who were there — with soldiers who were directly involved, with former Abu Ghraib prisoners, and with a prisoner who was released from Guantánamo, a British citizen whose release was secured by his government. And a point is clearly made, here, by interrogation experts, that the most effective interrogations involve establishing a connection with the prisoner, producing reliable information. Despite how well that’s known, we’ve descended into a pit of abuse and torture that not only gives us questionable information, but corrupts our society’s values in a way that’s difficult to repair.

Another, related documentary film I’ve seen recently is Eugene Jarecki’s Why We Fight, made a couple of years ago. Mr Jarecki starts with President Eisenhower’s warning, in the 1950s, of the danger of a “military-industrial complex”, and brings us to the invasion of Iraq as an almost inevitable result of our ignoring that warning.

The film uses interviews with people such as retired Lieutenant Colonel Karen Kwiatkowski; Charles Lewis, of the Center for Public Integrity; former Secretary of the Air Force James Roche; former CIA officer Chalmers Johnson; and the son (John) and granddaughter (Susan) of President Eisenhower. Through those interviews, along with narrative and archive footage, it tells us where we came from with respect to the was in Iraq, how we got here, and what we knew at the beginning and along the way.

A significant point of both films is the administration’s management of what the second tells us is called “blowback” — the unintended consequences of our actions, and the ensuing public response. And it’s clear that by the time “Taxi” was made — in the two years between the two films — the blowback problem had become much harder to manage.

Of course, these films are aimed at making a point, and don’t try to be even-handed and present a balanced view. And certainly, “Why We Fight” talks mostly to people with axes to grind — Col. Kwiatkowski, for example, took retirement because she didn’t like where things were going, and has since been an outspoken critic of the war. But as I said above, “Taxi” gets extra power directly from those involved.

I’m filing this under “Movies”, but not under “Entertainment”; one can hardly say that these are entertaining. They are disturbing... and enlightening. And they’ll make you angry to be reminded of the position in which we’ve put ourselves, and angry, very angry with the people who put us there.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

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Thelma and Louise and Judith

When Judith Warner published a commentary last week, “‘Thelma and Louise’ in the Rear-View Mirror”, I found myself reading it with several “Is she for real?” pauses and a couple of WTFs. I wanted to respond to it here, but first I wanted to let it settle in, to brew a bit... and I wanted to check on a couple of things, like this claim:

Rape itself is down — its incidence having dropped 75 percent since the early 1990s, according to the Department of Justice.
It’s not just Ms Warner’s poor choice of an em-dash that bothered me there: 75% just can’t be right.

Indeed, since then Ms Warner has come out with this week’s column, “The Legacy of ‘Thelma and Louise’”, and in it she backs off of that number, noting that different sources have vastly different estimates, and that there’s no way to judge the validity of any of them.

All right, so one of my WTFs is sorted, but there’s still plenty to question in both columns. Not the least of these is her assessment of the movie “Thelma and Louise”.

Judith Warner sees “Thelma and Louise” as being a story of the liberation of the title characters. I see nothing remotely liberating about it. From the beginning, when they leave their men, to the end, when they drive off a cliff, they are still controlled by what — and who — they’re running from. We can cheer as they blow up the truck of a man who’s harassing them, but it’s really not an empowering move. People who are empowered don’t wind up being cornered into taking a flying leap into the Grand Canyon.

And in that sense, the movie tells us the same thing now as it did in 1991. Ms Warner sees differences here:

[...] That year, the William Kennedy Smith rape case went to trial, belittling and publicly humiliating the victim; Anita Hill confronted Clarence Thomas and emerged besmirched while he reigned victorious; and Roe v. Wade seemed destined for extinction.

[...]

Date rape is no longer a contentious concept; it’s a known reality. Rape victims are no longer so thoughtlessly named and shamed by the media as was William Kennedy Smith’s accuser. [...]

Does Ms Warner really think that accepting the existence of date rape and giving it a name has solved the problem? Does she really think that rape victims are no longer shamed — a statement belied by evidence that rape is still the most underreported, underprosecuted, and underconvicted of all violent crimes — or that the William Kennedy Smith case would play out differently now? Does she not see how Clarence Thomas’s new book laughs in Anita Hill’s face once again, despite the years since, despite whatever progress we’ve made? Isn't it clear that with the recent changes to the Supreme Court, Roe v. Wade is more in danger than ever?

For all the changes since 1991, women are still harassed and raped, and men still look the other way, still say that they were asking for it, still accuse them of lying about it. Pregnant women have even less choice than before about what they may do with their own bodies, to the point of being denied necessary medical treatment in some cases. We call women “hos” and “bitches” even more now than then, and we say that those are terms of endearment. Women still earn less than 80% of what men do, for the same jobs.

No, “Thelma and Louise” was never an anthem for women’s freedom from diminution and violence, and women are only a little less diminished and violated than they were 16 years ago. And the problem with thinking we’ve made more progress than we have is that we pat ourselves on our collective back, and we think we’re done.

We’re not done. We have a long way yet to go.

Friday, September 28, 2007

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In the Shadow of the Moon

Last week I saw the documentary film In the Shadow of the Moon, which chronicles the NASA manned missions to the moon, from Apollo 8 (the first manned lunar orbit), through Apollo 11 (the first manned lunar landing), to Apollo 17 (the last landing, and last flight in the Apollo program). The movie includes stories and commentary from a number of the Apollo astronauts, including Apollo 11’s Michael Collins and Buzz Aldrin (but not Neil Armstrong, who prefers to stay out of the public eye), and Apollo 8 and 13’s Jim Lovell.

The real star of the show was Michael Collins, the one who stayed in the command module while his colleagues walked on the moon. General Collins appeared to get the most screen time, and had wonderful eyes and facial expressions, and a delightful manner. He told us a lot about what it was like to be in the Apollo program and on a moon mission... and when asked whether he was resentful of having to stay in space, and never getting to the moon itself, he said no, that it wouldn’t have been his choice, but that there was no resentment.

Saturn V stage falling awayFor me, the whole movie was a trip down memory lane. I was a child in the 1960s — 12 years old when Michael Collins orbited the moon — and I knew all about the space program, the astronauts, the solar system. My father hoped I’d be a doctor, but I wanted to be an astronaut. I watched all the televised launches, EVAs, and moon-walks. Living in south Florida, I could often see the distant Saturn V rockets as they climbed from the Kennedy Space Center. I’d watch the launch on TV, and then run outside to look for it in the northern sky.

The documentary delighted me. And as I watched it, I almost forgot that the Apollo program and NASA’s manned space exploration ended in late 1972, and has not been revived since; my dream of being an astronaut died along with Apollo. The Pioneer and Voyager probes were exciting too, but even they were launched in the 1970s, and, of course, are unmanned. We’ve gone 35 years without sending a person out of Earth orbit.

And this week, Dennis Overbye reminds us of that in an essay in the New York Times, entitled “One Giant Leap, Followed by Decades of Baby Steps”:

Some space age. It has been 35 years since anybody was on the Moon, or more than 300 miles from Earth, for that matter. NASA says it will be 2020 before astronauts get back to the Moon, meaning that it will have taken twice as long this time from presidential declaration (Bush in 2003) to actual landing than the first time around, when President John F. Kennedy declared in 1961 that America would land on the Moon within the decade, and Apollo 11 launched eight years later. You are free to make your own guesses about Mars.

At least we now have the Phoenix heading to Mars — launched almost two months ago, and slated to land on Mars in time for next Memorial Day — so that’s something. And we can certainly argue that there are better ways to spend our money than to shoot it off into space.

But there are lots of worse ways and places to shoot our money, as we well know. And it’s sad that we’ve let curiosity, adventure, and exploration fall away like a stage of a Saturn V rocket.

 

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time
’til touchdown brings me ’round again to find
I’m not the man they think I am at home,
Oh, no, no, no.
I’m a rocket man,
A rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone...

—— Bernie Taupin, “Rocket Man” lyrics

 

I wanted to be a spaceman
That's what I wanted to be
But now that I am a spaceman
Nobody cares about me
Hey mother earth, won't you bring me back down
Safely to the sea
But around and around and around and around
Is just a lot of lunacy

—— Harry Nilsson, “Spaceman” lyrics

 

You will be chosen some day to go to the moon, because in school you took up space.

—— A fortune cookie I once got

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

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“Bleu”

On one of my recent trips by plane, I watched the first movie I'd watched in a while, about three months: Bleu, the first in Polish director Krzystof Kieslowski's “Trois couleurs” trilogy (the others being, of course, Blanc and Rouge).

This is a wonderful series of movies, Mr Kieslowski's magnum opus. He announced his retirement after finishing “Rouge”, and died of a heart attack about a year later, not quite 55 years old. Most of his work in his 30-year career is only in Polish. Each of these three, which are in French (='Blanc'= is French and Polish) stars a different well-known French actress — Juliette Binoche in “Bleu”, Julie Delpy in “Blanc”, Irène Jacob in “Rouge” — and puts its protagonist in a different situation. Each asks (and only partially answers) different existential questions, and each leaves us continuing the ending for ourselves, beyond the finale of the movie.

I've seen all three films before, but got the DVDs as a set some time ago and am only now getting around to watching them again. “Bleu” was always my favourite of the three, a real masterpiece of a film. The movie opens with a car accident that kills a famous composer and his young daughter and puts his wife (Binoche) in the hospital. We then follow, after her release, how she copes with grief, love, life, memories, and more after everything she had has been changed irrevocably.

The music, composed by Zbigniew Preisner, is wonderful, and is central to the story. The cinematography and editing, by Slawomir Idziak and Jacques Witta, respectively, are equally apt, even down to things like a long closeup of an espresso cup, or a teaspoon stuck handle-first into an empty Perrier bottle. Each movie makes significant use of its title colour, and the blues here keep bringing us back to Binoche's character, Julie — like her frequent swims in an unnaturally blue swimming pool, perfectly lit for the scenes.

I love this film on so many levels. It's an “art” film, sure, but it's also a character study. And it makes us ask ourselves the things that Julie is implicitly asking, and is answering by her actions. I can't imagine leaving this movie without asking myself those same questions, without wondering about Julie's choices and what mine would be, and without thinking about where things are going next, after the movie ends and the characters go on.

Monday, July 23, 2007

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“A Price Above Rubies” and closed communities

There was a piece in the New York Times Sunday magazine this week, by Noah Feldman, which reminded me of a very good movie that most people haven't heard of.

In the Times article, Mr Feldman talks about having gone to a Jewish school, a yeshiva, associated with a “modern Orthodox” community, and then, as an adult, marrying outside of the Jewish faith. His school has, in effect, shunned him, by not including reports of him and his family, while they report on the families of the other students:

Since then I have occasionally been in contact with the school’s alumni director, who has known me since I was a child. I say “in contact,” but that implies mutuality where none exists. What I really mean is that in the nine years since the reunion I have sent him several updates about my life, for inclusion in the “Mazal Tov” section of the newsletter. I sent him news of my marriage. When our son was born, I asked him to report that happy event. The most recent news was the birth of our daughter this winter. Nothing doing. None of my reports made it into print.

It would be more dramatic if I had been excommunicated like Baruch Spinoza, in a ceremony complete with black candles and a ban on all social contact, a rite whose solemnity reflected the seriousness of its consequences. But in the modern world, the formal communal ban is an anachronism. Many of my closest relationships are still with people who remain in the Orthodox fold. As best I know, no one, not even the rabbis at my old school who disapprove of my most important life decisions, would go so far as to refuse to shake my hand. What remains of the old technique of excommunication is simply nonrecognition in the school’s formal publications, where my classmates’ growing families and considerable accomplishments are joyfully celebrated.

Mr Feldman goes on to explain the difference between “modern Orthodox” and the more traditional ultra-Orthodox — we'd expect this behaviour, and more, from the latter. But from his modern Orthodox community, the whole thing is more subtle. The slights are just that: slights, minor things, each barely noticeable in itself, but all together adding up to something very similar. His old friends are still allowed to talk to him, but his story will not be told, his accomplishments will not be celebrated — he is no longer a part of his old community, for the sin of marrying a Korean-American woman.

It's a long article, and worth reading in full. The movie it reminds me of is A Price Above Rubies, a movie about an Orthodox Jewish community in New York City, starring Renée Zellweger — a movie that, despite its star, you probably haven't heard of. It's about a rabbinical student and his wife, and about how his wife drifts apart from the community and is eventually shunned — in this case completely, to the point of being kept apart from her child — for not staying withing the demands of the community.

The community in A Price Above Rubies is a more traditional Orthodox one than the one Mr Feldman belonged to, and their dogma is stricter, their culture more tightly closed. The effect, therefore, is more immediately obvious. And yet Noah Feldman gives us, in his essay, a real sense of the loss he feels for having been shut out of his community, even if in a smaller way. “Many of my closest relationships are still with people who remain in the Orthodox fold,” Mr Feldman tells us. But the community as a whole doesn't trumpet his joy, and share in it the way they do with members in good standing.

Read Noah Feldman's article. And put A Price Above Rubies on your video rental queue; it's an under-appreciated gem. (I love the scene where she's eating an egg roll in Chinatown, and her conscience, in the form of a vision of her brother, is telling her that she's going straight to hell (it's not kosher to start with, and has pork and shrimp in it besides), but in the moment she just says, “Oh, this is so good!”)

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

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Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

PBS's television program American Experience has a new episode, which first aired on Monday night, “Summer of Love”, commemorating, describing, and explaining the invasion of San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury area by “Hippies” 40 years ago this July:

In the summer of 1967, thousands of young people from across the country flocked to San Francisco's Haight Ashbury district to join in the hippie experience, only to discover that what they had come for was already disappearing. By 1968 the celebration of free love, music, and an alternative lifestyle had descended into a maelstrom of drug abuse, broken dreams, and occasional violence.

Through interviews with a broad range of individuals who lived through the Summer of Love — police officers walking the beat, teenage runaways who left home without looking back, non-hippie residents who resented the invasion of their community, and scholars who still have difficulty interpreting the phenomenon — this American Experience offers a complex portrait of the notorious event that many consider the peak of the 1960s counter-culture movement.

Forty years.

Forty years. Wow. It's hard to imagine that it was that long ago. I was only ten years old at the time — old enough to be well aware of the whole scene, but too young to have thought to join the pilgrimage (though the documentary does show children on their own as young as 12 or 13, and includes a brief interview made at the time with a 14-year-old girl). Still, the “Summer of Love” scene, the music, and the Hippie movement in general seem such a central part of what I remember from my childhood and early teen years that I have a hard time thinking about it as “history”.

But history it is, and the documentary is excellentfar out, as is most of the American Experience series. I recorded it so that I might watch it again. And in the NYC area, at least, it's being shown again on Thursday, in case you missed it and want to see it.

Peace, baby.
 


Update, 5 p.m.: I wanted to post my favourite quote from the program, so I've been watching the transcript page, but they haven't posted the transcript yet. So I reviewed my recording and transcribed the quote myself. It's from a radio host called Joe Dolan, and we see him on camera responding to a caller on his radio show:

Now certainly, these shaggies and hippies with their talk about peace and brotherhood, and understanding, and international amity — all this ridiculous nonsense — naturally the newspapers are going to play up the things they say, especially when these people bang tambourines, and, like Allen Ginsberg, go into these absurd chants, these Hindu chants... well, naturally they're going to play this sort of thing up. It would be absurd to expect that they're not going to do this.
Yes, ridiculous nonsense like peace, brotherhood, understanding, and international amity, indeed. What were we thinking?

Friday, February 23, 2007

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The Up series

As I drove back from Washington, DC, on Monday, I listened to Philadelphia's NPR station, WHYY, and caught part of their “Radio Times” program. They had an interview with filmmaker Michael Apted:

Michael Apted is a documentary filmmaker and director of feature films and TV shows. His most recent movie is Amazing Grace, the story of William Wilberforce, who was instrumental in ending slavery in the British empire. His film credits include Coalminer's Daughter, Gorillas in the Mist, Gorky Park and the Up series of documentaries, which has followed a group of people from the U.K. from age 7 until last year when they reached 49.

Mr Apted sounds like an interesting man, in general, but it's the “Up” series of documentaries that particularly caught my attention. The blurb above doesn't do the series justice — they're not just a few documentaries. They're a series of seven full-length documentary films made over the course of 42 years, following the same set of subjects at seven-year intervals. That's quite an undertaking! And of the fourteen children who participated at age seven, twelve are still with him at age 49.

The films in the series are these:
Seven Up! (1964)
7 Plus Seven (1970)
21 Up (1977)
28 Up (1985)
35 Up (1991)
42 Up (1998)
49 Up (2005)

It sounds fascinating, and I'll be interested in hearing from anyone who's seen some of them. They were made for British TV, but appear to be available on region 1 DVD (The Up Series has 7 thru 42, and 49 Up is available separately). I've just placed my order....

[You can listen to the interview here.]

Sunday, December 17, 2006

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City of God

'City of God' posterIt's not a new movie, but I've just recently seen the Brazilian film City of God (“Cidade de Deus”, from 2002).

It's a very disturbing movie about a slum in Rio de Janeiro, and about the thugs who grow up there. The film begins with a scene that we'll see again later, as the narrator, a young man nicknamed “Rocket” (everyone's called by a nickname here) takes us back to his childhood, and tells us about the people and events that brought him and his neighbours to where they are now. We see a story of the older brothers, the previous generation of thugs, and we see the transition to Rocket's generation. We see how a society of violence makes people degenerate into their own cycle of violence.

The depiction feels real. I don't know, of course, what the reality is, but it feels real. And that's what makes it so disturbing: understanding that it is like that for the people who live there, seeing kids — teens and earlier — who take killing so casually, seeing the next batch of even younger kids trained to do the same. There's a scene in which “Li'l Zé”, who's become the boss thug, shoots someone who's worked at his side, just because he's being annoying.

This movie really made me feel what it must be like to live in an environment like that, and to feel the need those young men have to either own it, or get out, without being sure how to do either.

“City of God” won the 2003 Cinema Brazil Grand Prize in six categories, including Best Picture and Best Director, and was nominated in nine others, including all the acting categories. It was nominated for Best Director, Screenplay, Cinematography, and Editing in the 2004 Academy Awards, and for the Best Foreign-Language Film in the 2003 Golden Globes. And there are lots more in its list of awards.

It's a very powerful, very compelling, very disturbing movie. And it will make you think twice about what street you might turn down if you're driving in Rio.

Sunday, December 10, 2006

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Little Miss Sunshine

Cute movie. Amusing. I enjoyed it.

And it was fun to see the "Carefree Highway" sign that I posted here.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

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Recent movies

I've seen a few recent movies in the last couple of weeks, and I thought I'd give some brief opinions on them.

Volver

This is Pedro Almodóvar's latest film, and it stars Penelope Cruz as a woman coping with family ghosts, in a couple of different senses (the title is Spanish for "Returning", as in the returning of the ghosts). The movie's well crafted and clever, and was very enjoyable to watch. But, then, I'm an Almodóvar fan, and expected to like it. It's in Spanish, and I saw it with English subtitles.

Recommended.

Inside Man

Here's another director whose work I'm fond of: Spike Lee. And the film stars Denzel Washington, who's worked with Lee several times before (in “Mo' Better Blues”, “Malcolm X”, and “He Got Game”) and does a wonderful job here. It's also got several other well-known actors, including Clive Owen, Willem Dafoe, Jodie Foster, and Christopher Plummer. This film's about a bank robbery that takes some unexpected and interesting turns, and Denzel is the NYPD hostage negotiator who deals with the robbers.

At one point, Lee uses an interesting device that he used before with Denzel in “Malcolm X”: he puts the actor on a dolly and wheels him through the scene while using a head shot. The effect is of the actor moving in an eerie way, without the normal up-and-down movement of his head while he's walking.

Recommended.

Mrs Henderson Presents

Judi Dench stars as a widow in the 1930s, who buys a theatre in London. She hires an artistic director who brings it to success with risqué shows, taking us to the bombings of London during World War II.

I'm afraid that synopsis was a little thin because the movie is a little thin. It's not a bad movie, and Ms Dench and the others do a fine job with the acting. I just found it not to be a compelling story, and ultimately had little interest n it.

Not recommended.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

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Filmmaker John Sayles

For no reason in particular — he doesn't even have a new movie coming out — it occurred to me to write about a favourite filmmaker, John Sayles.[1] He's written a good batch of screenplays, and has directed some of them as well. Some that he's both written and directed are

  • Return of the Secaucus 7
  • Matewan
  • City of Hope
  • Passion Fish
  • The Secret of Roan Inish
  • Lone Star
  • Men with Guns
  • Limbo
  • Sunshine State
  • Casa de los Babys

Author Barbara Kingsolver had this to say about Sayles, when asked in an interview whether, as a writer, she mentally rewrites things that she reads or sees:

I've rewritten the screenplay of almost every movie I've ever seen, driving my husband crazy incidentally, on the way home from the theater (except for the films of John Sayles, which are invariably perfect).

I wouldn't call Sunshine State "perfect"; it's his most Altman-esque effort. But "perfect" is a good description of the writing of the other films. As with many directors, you'll see some of the same actors in a number of his films, actors such as David Strathairn, Angela Bassett, Chris Cooper, and Joe Morton. And you generally won't see lists of famous names in his films, except as they've become famous since — he tends to find relatively untapped talent and excellent "character actors". The story is the point here, not the stars.

Why not start with Lone Star, and then branch out from there? If you're not a John Sayles fan, give him a try and you soon will be.


[1] Actually, the reason is that I was listening to the soundtrack CD of Limbo while on a long drive recently, and it made me think about the movie.