Amazon Insant's visually sumptuous category brings us today's flick...
You do realize that part of the reason I run this blog is to stave off depression, right? Like, if I don't have something structured going on, I kinda fall into a rut and have a hard time getting out of it and alternatively consider killing myself and verbally lashing out at people, so I need something to do to occupy my time. So I sit down, watch a movie, and then bang out my opinion on it to keep myself writing something and stave off the problems of my mental state until I can find a more permanent solution. It's working out intermittently, but I think it's working. All of this is a nice way of saying:
I DON'T NEED YOUR SHIT, LARS VON TRIER.
Backing up a bit. From what I've read about him since I had reason to care about him as anything beyond the guy jokingly credited as the pie in Too Many Cooks, Lars von Trier is a bit of an eccentric film director who tends towards a minimalist style for his movies (so much so that he created Dogme 95, an entire movement dedicated to making movies with the barest of possible bones), and a really, really dark streak. We're not talking super dark and edgy dark, we're talking "humanity is a blight on this planet and it'll be better off the second we're gone" dark. I mean, emo kid grew up and refined his poetry into something compelling and meaningful without losing any of the original intention, downright, straight up bleak. He also apparently makes jokes about Hitler that get him blacklisted at Cannes.
And boy howdy does that dark streak show in Melancholia. I was a little bit worried going into this review, because I didn't pay the movie as much attention as I feel it deserved. I had other stuff distracting me at the time, and the slow pace and quiet audio put me out of it for a little while. What's more, I've actually known about this movie and been interested in seeing it ever since I caught a review in the paper back when it came out. So I was feeling as if I'd just wasted a solid two and a quarter hours and wouldn't be able to say anything intelligent about the film without binging on Wikipedia and imdb in order to put together a half-coherent synopsis and a few small opinions.
But then something happened. While walking to and from class today, I took some time to think about the film, reflect on what I remembered and piece it together that way. And in doing so, I came to a conclusion, one that justifies the all-caps boldly italicized statement up there - I feel like I totally get this movie.
The set up this time around involves the wedding of Justine and Michael, two young lovers whose idyllic life isn't quite as idyllic as it seems. Justine's parents have long since split apart, and her mother doesn't approve of her marriage in the slightest. Her sister Claire and husband John act supportive, but John's liable to snap and give up on Claire's side of the family at the drop of a hat. And worst of all, Justine suffers from clinical depression, which strikes her on the night of her reception. These factors, along with a whole host of other mitigating conditions brought on by the other guests, causes the night to splinter apart - never quite breaking, but definitely destroying any illusion of a happy life.
The film's second half shifts to pay more attention to Justine and Clair's relationship, as well as up the focus on the oncoming collision with the giant planet Melancholia. It's still as character oriented as the first act, but draws the characters in broader strokes and introduces a somewhat mystical element as the planet draws closer and closer.
Before I get into any of my analysis, I'd like to get a few things out of the way, including the one thing I think pretty much everyone who's reviewed this movie has gotten at - the opening sequence looks great. Melancholia opens with a series of slow-motion, almost completely still images depicting key events from the movie in both literal and metaphorical terms. At times I thought it WAS just a still image, until a planet blotted out a star's light, or someone's foot sank a solid six inches into the ground. It's all very, VERY well shot, and culminates in an image of Melancholia impacting Earth, effectively setting up the movie's tone of depression-born inevitability.
It also serves as a good contrast to the movie afterwards. In contrast to the opening sequence, largely made up of well-composed, slow moving stills, the rest of the film pulls in much closer and focuses in on characters with a slightly shaky camera. None of it ever stops looking good (this was in the Visually Sumptuous category, after all), but it highlights Justine's uncomfortableness with the situation, likely born out of her depression. As those of us who suffer from it and related mental disorders, it's not easy dealing with social situations, and von Trier uses the camerawork as an effective way of demonstrating this. I'm sure it says something that the method is still employed in the second part, when the cast is cut down to just four people.
And speaking of the cast, they all do great jobs. Seeing Kiefer Sutherland here makes me want to get through Peace Walker faster so I can hear him do Big Boss in Ground Zeroes and the Phantom Pain, and seeing John Hurt here reminds me that I made a good decision in liking John Hurt. I really don't have much to say about the rest of them, just that they did a good job and I figured the acting worthy of praise. Sometimes I don't have much to say about something I want to work into the main review. I'm not about to push central credited performances into the assorted thoughts section.
But anyways, that analysis I promised earlier. As I said at the start, despite not strictly paying attention to every tiny bit of the movie, I still feel like I completely understand what von Trier was going for here. Wikipedia's plot summary includes a whole bunch of stuff about characters standing in for the sins of mankind, and given some of the elements in the movie I can definitely see that. Yet for the way my reading of the film works, it really only requires the characters who stick around for part 2.
See, the way I see it, Melancholia's central question is, "Does normal, run of the mill depression work any differently that completely apocalyptic depression?" And over the course of the film, I think it comes to the conclusion that no, there is no central difference. Justine never gets better throughout the course of the movie. The inbound armageddon doesn't do anything to shake her out of her thought patterns, or convince her to rebuild ties with her family, or do anything but silently accept her oncoming death as she bathes naked in the planetlight.
In fact, Melancholia seems to argue that depression is the most logical, rational mindset one can take when faced with the inevitable. Part two focuses more on Claire and how she deals with the inbound impact, believing whatever she's told for as long as possible before finding irrefutable proof that she, along with everything and everyone she's ever known, is doomed. As the supposedly more rational sister, one would expect her to figure out some means of dealing with the situation. But instead, she breaks down, completely out of places to hide, unable to accept that there's nothing she can do to stop it.
Central to all of this is a character I've neglected to mention until now, Claire's son. Throughout the second half of the film, he's aware of Melancholia's approach, but never seems to fully comprehend its meaning. Even when his father reassures him of their 100% assured survival, he doesn't seem to quite GET it. By the time the ending rolls around (if I may indulge in spoilers for a moment) and his mother has placed herself and Justine in a magic cave to protect them from the planet, he seems to finally figure it out... and take Justine's side. He's completely silent and acceptant of the inbound destruction, as if he's adopted her mindset and accepted what his mother cannot. Maybe he has depression too or something.
You can probably see why I was reluctant to review this movie, even beyond my lack of attention given to it. "Hey, extreme, pervasive depression is totally a valid thing for you to feel because the whole world's small and insignificant and you're going to die anyways, so why bother?" isn't exactly the sort of thing I want the movies I watch here telling me.
It is entirely possible that I've misread Melancholia entirely. There's some crucial shots of Earth as small and dark and insignificant against Melancholia's grand blue magnificence, so it could just as easily be a call to rise beyond petty emotional strife and work to appreciate the beauty of the universe, with the depression aspect driving the difficulty of the task. I'm not entirely certain. What I am certain of is that this is a really good movie; thought provoking, well acted, VERY well shot, and an interesting introduction to Lars von Trier's work, Melancholia is a film I can heartily recommend to those of you who have Amazon Instant and think you can make it through the bleak runtime.
I'm just hoping Friday's movie is a mite bit less depressing.
(Assorted thoughts:
- Wikipedia's article on Dogme 95. It's a pretty interesting concept, and I've occasionally wondered how one would go about making a movie under these restrictions. Never really associated von Trier with it until now though, despite him founding the damn movement.
- It's another one of those movies where I know a bunch of people from superhero films and genre fiction. Kirsten Dunst from Spider-Man, Stellan Skarsgård from the Thor movies, I know a bunch of John Hurt stuff but I know him best from Doctor Who, Kiefer Sutherland from Metal Gear...
- Is it weird that I was at a wedding on a golf course last week? I know it doesn't mean anything, but it just feels odd that I go to one of those and then roll up this movie.
- "The brother-in-law who is an astronomer committing suicide rather than live to see the most awesome astronomical event ever, even if it was the last thing he would ever see. Makes no sense to me. You'd think that he would want to at least see it." Why do I go on TV Tropes. Why.
- This movie is apparently part of a thematic depression trilogy von Trier was working on, starting with Antichrist and ending with the recent Nymphomaniac. Antichrist is one of the Certified Weird movies over at 366WeirdMovies, so maybe I'll track down a way to see that at some point.
Anyways, small announcement here. Elena has decided that the stresses of daily life are too much for her to be able to find the time to contribute articles, and will be leaving us. I'm sad that she never got around to publishing a review, but I respect her decision to go, and wish her the best. Not sure who's going to fill the Tuesday/Thursday slot, especially given the blog's small readerbase, but I'll manage.
Showing posts with label Man-On-Zombie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Man-On-Zombie. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Friday, September 4, 2015
Apocalypse Now
The following review, brought to us by Amazon Instant's military and war category, contains spoilers.
War has never been a huge factor in my life. It has, of course, always served as a backdrop of sorts - the 9/11 attacks occurred only a few short years after I gained self-awareness, and the United States has been entangled in one overseas conflict after another in these last fourteen years. However, it has always been a distant reality, never something I have ever needed to directly confront. It has only ever served as news reports and discussions in classrooms. No members of my immediate family who I identify closely with have served in the armed forces during my formative years, and I personally do not ever wish to see active combat, much less enlist for any reason whatsoever. War, to me, is a nebulous thing, and one I hope to God I never have to confront.
Media, however, has played a major role in my life. For years I replaced friendships in school with endless readings, both for schoolwork and pleasure. My teenage years were heavily occupied with reading about stories I knew of and was completely unfamiliar with on various online sources. More recently, much of my time is occupied with video games and movies, hence the reason for this blog's existence. I am simply not a good people person, and directly facing the world unnerves me, so I turn to the cinema and world of fiction instead.
As such, my perception of war is shaped largely by what I encounter in various movies, books, and games. For just one pertinent example, my opinion on boot camps was practically nonexistent until I saw Full Metal Jacket a few years back. The depiction of R. Lee Ermey's gunnery sergeant as a relentless psychological abuser of a man clearly unsuited to military life, to the point of murder and suicide, cemented my distaste for the whole basic training process far more than any description from a soldier who experienced the same could. Perhaps this speaks to something deeply wrong with me. Personally, I think it does, and I should like to note, just for the comfort of people who I know frequent this blog, that I am aware of the issue and working to get more real world exposure to counter it. But this receptiveness to movies has shaped who I am, and there is nothing I can do to change those past experiences.
Of all the military fiction I have consumed, the Metal Gear series of video games has influenced my perception on war and conflict more than any other single work or body of work. I only hopped on the bandwagon this last February, but the past six months of playing and analyzing have proven some of the most enriching and rewarding experiences I have had with a story in quite some time. For a series I started into because a meme I saw made me laugh, it has proven surprisingly impactive, especially on my views of how war should be.
Allow me to elaborate. Much of the series centers around attempts to control the entire world to bring it into line with one's ideals, and the inevitable failure of these attempts. A world controlled by iron-fisted power and military might can only slip away or shatter under the steel grip. In the end, it is the understanding ways of Solid Snake that save the world. Unlike those before and around him, he fights not to eliminate an enemy and shape the world to his standards, but to remove a threat and allow the world to develop as each person living in it sees fit. More importantly, while he will fight and do what is right to save the world and finish his mission, he endeavors to understand his enemies, and provide them the closure and understanding they did not receive in life.
There is a kind of purity to Snake's actions, a lack of judgement on the way his enemies operate. Obviously they must be taken down, removed from the world so that they will not endanger it further, but their thoughts and feelings on how it should be matter just as much as anyone else's. Their life stories deserve to be heard. The failure to understand this principle, both in the series' primary villain as a concept, and by Snake as an active thought, drives much of the story's action and drama, and when the two of them reconcile in the final chronological game and at long last understand the need for that purity of judgement, it's incredibly beautiful.
I feel the need to mention all of this because in the final twenty minutes of Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now, I noticed some parallels to this idea. Colonel Kurtz is portrayed as a man who fought for his country and did his homeland proud by enacting the worst of brutalities on those he was tasked to fight. He rose as a man perfect in every way for a commanding position in an amoral, power drunk army that enjoyed the slaughter of innocents for a strategic position and a place to surf, reveled in the opportunity to rape the rare non-combatant women who came across their sights. Another man in his position might have simply taken it and joined with the rabble, content to spend the rest of his days in a cozy general's armchair.
But Kurtz, for better or worse, was no ordinary man. He could not stand the terrible deeds he had to perform in the name of victory, and had to find a way to understand it all, or else go completely mad. While it is debatable whether or not he succeeded in avoiding madness, his speeches clearly show he found a way to make it through. Upon seeing the arms of children he and his men inoculated hacked off by Vietnamese sticking to their principles, he found both the horrors of war and the way to navigate them. It takes, again, a purity of judgement. A conviction to do what you believe must be done, and ONLY what must be done.
It shapes Kurtz into the kind of man who won't even raise a finger against a fly as it buzzes all about his face and will take legions of the enemy under his wing as a divine figurehead - and will chop a man's head off and deposit it at the feet of his comrade if that man poses even the slightest threat to his beliefs and way of life, all without a hint of anger or regret. Purity. The enemy is who you judge them to be, and only they are worthy of the monstrosity war makes a man into.
Maybe Kurtz was right in his way of thinking. Maybe it was just a philosophy he developed in order to survive. With his limited screen-time and air of mystery, there's no way to know for sure. But it is easy to say that his methods and philosophies had no place in the Vietnam War. Being driven into madness and giving up one's ideals for the sake of victory, even if victory proved impossible, was the norm. And so it is that Kurtz had to die. Thankfully at the hand of a man who came to understand his mindset and brought him down in a manner he would have approved of, ritualistically and with the cold brutality of a monster; but he had to die regardless, and with his death the world lost any potential insight it could gain from his alternative take on the horrors, madness, and reality of war.
It's a horrible, horrible outlook to take on the world, but I can't help but feel there's an element of truth to both perspectives. Understanding one's enemies, as in the Metal Gear model, serves to humanize them and offers deeper insight into why war shouldn't be waged, for the sake of the human condition. But cutting through the hatred and bloodlust to operate as a distant, high-minded killing machine may very well be the only way to preserve one's principles during a war one has no way out of. Attempting to stop the horror of battle and sympathizing with the enemy is all well and good, but if brass tacks come to brass tacks, taming the monster and unleashing it at will on those you feel deserve it is quite possibly the only way to stay sane.
Maybe that's what war's about. Maybe I'm completely off-base and have misread the film in the worst manner possible. I need more time to digest, but I have a feeling Colonel Kurtz's methods and ideologies will play some major part in the way I view war from now on.
Apocalypse Now has deeply impacted me as a viewer, but I am not quite certain how to process it just yet. I have a wedding to attend tomorrow (I'm writing this review on a Thursday night), so I'll have to clear my thoughts of anything to do with the darkness of the human condition and the horrors of war for the sake of being able to function properly. However, this means I will not be able to condense my impressions of the movie into a more coherent form before Saturday rolls around. Since this blog exists primarily to keep me on a schedule, I'd rather not miss my day long deadline because I'm trying to figure out if my thoughts on the movie make sense or not.
As such, the above serves as a look into the parts of my reaction that I feel best reflect my overall impression of the film and potentially add a new take to the discourse. It is, of course, an incredible film (one you should all see wherever and whenever possible), and while I found myself fading in parts, the ending more than makes up for any fears I had of not liking the movie and having to write even a word of negative criticism. Anything I have to say about the overall story, characters, filming style, or cultural impact would be moot by this point, given its status as one of the most critically acclaimed and deeply analyzed films of all time. Giving you my raw, immediate thoughts, however incoherent and potentially off the mark, feels like the right thing to do.
After all, this is the sort of film that encourages deep thinking about its overall plots and themes. Colonel Kurtz's appearance in the final half hour put me in mind of my analysis of the Metal Gear series and the way media has impacted my perception of the world around me, and so those are the thoughts I have chosen to share with you, as I feel they are not likely to have come up much in discussion of the film. With any amount of luck, it's coherent and accurate enough to serve as a thought-provoking and engaging read. If not... oh well, I suppose.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find something to do that's not so fucking BLEAK for the rest of the night. I'll add some assorted thoughts and try to keep this from being "Gilbert Raves About Why The World Is Terrible When Really He Don't Know Nothin': The Article" in the morning. Good night, and thanks for reading.
(Assorted thoughts:
- Marlon Brando may have been one hell of a bastard to work with at this point in his career, but damn if he doesn't deserve his recognition as one of the greats.
- Reading the story about making this movie's like reading through a fucking comedy of errors, except people are actually nearly dying and attempting suicide.
- That scene with the dog, man. Almost broke my water bottle in two clenching it so tight, and it's made out of rubber, so that oughta tell you something.
- Robert Duvall: Second best part of the movie. Agreed? Agreed.)
War has never been a huge factor in my life. It has, of course, always served as a backdrop of sorts - the 9/11 attacks occurred only a few short years after I gained self-awareness, and the United States has been entangled in one overseas conflict after another in these last fourteen years. However, it has always been a distant reality, never something I have ever needed to directly confront. It has only ever served as news reports and discussions in classrooms. No members of my immediate family who I identify closely with have served in the armed forces during my formative years, and I personally do not ever wish to see active combat, much less enlist for any reason whatsoever. War, to me, is a nebulous thing, and one I hope to God I never have to confront.
Media, however, has played a major role in my life. For years I replaced friendships in school with endless readings, both for schoolwork and pleasure. My teenage years were heavily occupied with reading about stories I knew of and was completely unfamiliar with on various online sources. More recently, much of my time is occupied with video games and movies, hence the reason for this blog's existence. I am simply not a good people person, and directly facing the world unnerves me, so I turn to the cinema and world of fiction instead.
As such, my perception of war is shaped largely by what I encounter in various movies, books, and games. For just one pertinent example, my opinion on boot camps was practically nonexistent until I saw Full Metal Jacket a few years back. The depiction of R. Lee Ermey's gunnery sergeant as a relentless psychological abuser of a man clearly unsuited to military life, to the point of murder and suicide, cemented my distaste for the whole basic training process far more than any description from a soldier who experienced the same could. Perhaps this speaks to something deeply wrong with me. Personally, I think it does, and I should like to note, just for the comfort of people who I know frequent this blog, that I am aware of the issue and working to get more real world exposure to counter it. But this receptiveness to movies has shaped who I am, and there is nothing I can do to change those past experiences.
Of all the military fiction I have consumed, the Metal Gear series of video games has influenced my perception on war and conflict more than any other single work or body of work. I only hopped on the bandwagon this last February, but the past six months of playing and analyzing have proven some of the most enriching and rewarding experiences I have had with a story in quite some time. For a series I started into because a meme I saw made me laugh, it has proven surprisingly impactive, especially on my views of how war should be.
Allow me to elaborate. Much of the series centers around attempts to control the entire world to bring it into line with one's ideals, and the inevitable failure of these attempts. A world controlled by iron-fisted power and military might can only slip away or shatter under the steel grip. In the end, it is the understanding ways of Solid Snake that save the world. Unlike those before and around him, he fights not to eliminate an enemy and shape the world to his standards, but to remove a threat and allow the world to develop as each person living in it sees fit. More importantly, while he will fight and do what is right to save the world and finish his mission, he endeavors to understand his enemies, and provide them the closure and understanding they did not receive in life.
There is a kind of purity to Snake's actions, a lack of judgement on the way his enemies operate. Obviously they must be taken down, removed from the world so that they will not endanger it further, but their thoughts and feelings on how it should be matter just as much as anyone else's. Their life stories deserve to be heard. The failure to understand this principle, both in the series' primary villain as a concept, and by Snake as an active thought, drives much of the story's action and drama, and when the two of them reconcile in the final chronological game and at long last understand the need for that purity of judgement, it's incredibly beautiful.
I feel the need to mention all of this because in the final twenty minutes of Francis Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now, I noticed some parallels to this idea. Colonel Kurtz is portrayed as a man who fought for his country and did his homeland proud by enacting the worst of brutalities on those he was tasked to fight. He rose as a man perfect in every way for a commanding position in an amoral, power drunk army that enjoyed the slaughter of innocents for a strategic position and a place to surf, reveled in the opportunity to rape the rare non-combatant women who came across their sights. Another man in his position might have simply taken it and joined with the rabble, content to spend the rest of his days in a cozy general's armchair.
But Kurtz, for better or worse, was no ordinary man. He could not stand the terrible deeds he had to perform in the name of victory, and had to find a way to understand it all, or else go completely mad. While it is debatable whether or not he succeeded in avoiding madness, his speeches clearly show he found a way to make it through. Upon seeing the arms of children he and his men inoculated hacked off by Vietnamese sticking to their principles, he found both the horrors of war and the way to navigate them. It takes, again, a purity of judgement. A conviction to do what you believe must be done, and ONLY what must be done.
It shapes Kurtz into the kind of man who won't even raise a finger against a fly as it buzzes all about his face and will take legions of the enemy under his wing as a divine figurehead - and will chop a man's head off and deposit it at the feet of his comrade if that man poses even the slightest threat to his beliefs and way of life, all without a hint of anger or regret. Purity. The enemy is who you judge them to be, and only they are worthy of the monstrosity war makes a man into.
Maybe Kurtz was right in his way of thinking. Maybe it was just a philosophy he developed in order to survive. With his limited screen-time and air of mystery, there's no way to know for sure. But it is easy to say that his methods and philosophies had no place in the Vietnam War. Being driven into madness and giving up one's ideals for the sake of victory, even if victory proved impossible, was the norm. And so it is that Kurtz had to die. Thankfully at the hand of a man who came to understand his mindset and brought him down in a manner he would have approved of, ritualistically and with the cold brutality of a monster; but he had to die regardless, and with his death the world lost any potential insight it could gain from his alternative take on the horrors, madness, and reality of war.
It's a horrible, horrible outlook to take on the world, but I can't help but feel there's an element of truth to both perspectives. Understanding one's enemies, as in the Metal Gear model, serves to humanize them and offers deeper insight into why war shouldn't be waged, for the sake of the human condition. But cutting through the hatred and bloodlust to operate as a distant, high-minded killing machine may very well be the only way to preserve one's principles during a war one has no way out of. Attempting to stop the horror of battle and sympathizing with the enemy is all well and good, but if brass tacks come to brass tacks, taming the monster and unleashing it at will on those you feel deserve it is quite possibly the only way to stay sane.
Maybe that's what war's about. Maybe I'm completely off-base and have misread the film in the worst manner possible. I need more time to digest, but I have a feeling Colonel Kurtz's methods and ideologies will play some major part in the way I view war from now on.
Apocalypse Now has deeply impacted me as a viewer, but I am not quite certain how to process it just yet. I have a wedding to attend tomorrow (I'm writing this review on a Thursday night), so I'll have to clear my thoughts of anything to do with the darkness of the human condition and the horrors of war for the sake of being able to function properly. However, this means I will not be able to condense my impressions of the movie into a more coherent form before Saturday rolls around. Since this blog exists primarily to keep me on a schedule, I'd rather not miss my day long deadline because I'm trying to figure out if my thoughts on the movie make sense or not.
As such, the above serves as a look into the parts of my reaction that I feel best reflect my overall impression of the film and potentially add a new take to the discourse. It is, of course, an incredible film (one you should all see wherever and whenever possible), and while I found myself fading in parts, the ending more than makes up for any fears I had of not liking the movie and having to write even a word of negative criticism. Anything I have to say about the overall story, characters, filming style, or cultural impact would be moot by this point, given its status as one of the most critically acclaimed and deeply analyzed films of all time. Giving you my raw, immediate thoughts, however incoherent and potentially off the mark, feels like the right thing to do.
After all, this is the sort of film that encourages deep thinking about its overall plots and themes. Colonel Kurtz's appearance in the final half hour put me in mind of my analysis of the Metal Gear series and the way media has impacted my perception of the world around me, and so those are the thoughts I have chosen to share with you, as I feel they are not likely to have come up much in discussion of the film. With any amount of luck, it's coherent and accurate enough to serve as a thought-provoking and engaging read. If not... oh well, I suppose.
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find something to do that's not so fucking BLEAK for the rest of the night. I'll add some assorted thoughts and try to keep this from being "Gilbert Raves About Why The World Is Terrible When Really He Don't Know Nothin': The Article" in the morning. Good night, and thanks for reading.
(Assorted thoughts:
- Marlon Brando may have been one hell of a bastard to work with at this point in his career, but damn if he doesn't deserve his recognition as one of the greats.
- Reading the story about making this movie's like reading through a fucking comedy of errors, except people are actually nearly dying and attempting suicide.
- That scene with the dog, man. Almost broke my water bottle in two clenching it so tight, and it's made out of rubber, so that oughta tell you something.
- Robert Duvall: Second best part of the movie. Agreed? Agreed.)
Friday, August 14, 2015
The Cider House Rules - There's not as much crying as the Toby Maguire caricature would have you believe.
Roll one gives us Amazon Prime, which leads to roll two with editor's picks for movies, which leads to Oscar winners, which leads to today's film.
A problem inherent with running a blog like this, I think, is that there's really no way of getting around being a jackanape from time to time. I am, by no means, a film critic (the first of many professions and hobbies I am by no means a practitioner of), nor am I a student of filmmaking (there's a second), so my take and analysis on some of the more prestigious films bound to crop up from time to time are inevitably going to be ill-informed, and perhaps even flat-out wrong. I haven't thought of any means of avoiding the issue yet, and I highly doubt I'll be able to do so 100%, but I'll at least do what I can to talk about the movies in a somewhat mature, analytical manner.
I mention this because the first film I'm set to talk about for this blog is Lasse Hallström's The Cider House Rules, a film about the moral righteousness or lack thereof of abortions, one nominated for Best Picture and several other categories at the Academy Awards - and one that caught my eye when I rolled it primarily because the cast had a lot of actors from superhero movies.
Like an awful lot of folks my age (early 20s, in case you're wondering), I'm an absolute dork for superhero films. I've been a huge fan ever since the first Spider-Man came out, and have followed them quasi-religiously for close on fifteen years now. My early Wikipedia binges were dedicated largely to reading about the characters and the upcoming films, and I scour my current internet lurking spots for any news on them. I've seen almost every single one of the Marvel Cinematic Universe films in theaters, I'm extremely excited for the upcoming Batman V Superman movie, and Nic Cage's Ghost Rider is one of my favorite films despite the fact that I know it's objectively a bad film. I don't regret any of this, as I don't think there's anything WRONG with liking and getting heavily invested in this stuff, but it makes me feel a little odd here. I open up the cast for a movie, see Toby Maguire, Paul Rudd, and Charlize Theron, and think to myself, "Oh neat, Spider-Man, Ant-Man and Furiosa."
(I liked Fury Road, OK?)
((Also, on further reading, I found out Charlize Theron was in Hancock as the wife, but I didn't know that before and thus didn't bring it up.))
The idea of there being levels of film ,with the higher ones possessing an intrinsically higher quality and worth towards the culture, has never appealed to me, but identifying the actors in that manner makes me feel like a plebeian walking into a showing of 8 1/2 and pissing on the projector.
Not helping matters any was turning the movie on and finding its intro somewhat humorous. Not laugh out loud funny, but more in the "what is happening on screen and what is happening in the editing seem a little bit at odds with each other" sort of funny. You get the introductions to Doctor Larch (hi Alfred - I mean, My Cocaine - I mean, Michael Caine) and baby Homer Wells, which is perfectly fine, but when they start talking about how nobody wants him because he's too quiet, and one of his foster parents beating him, and Doctor Larch showing him how to perform an abortion against his objections... and all the while the happy, tinkly piano music just sorta powers on through. I don't really know much about music, but I am around... ninety, ninety-five percent certain "they beat him to stop him crying" is the sort of statement you don't play "isn't everything idyllic and wonderful right now" music over.
If I had to criticize the movie on any one major point, it'd be one related to that music. It deals with some pretty heavy stuff, even for a movie from the late 90s almost two decades after abortion was legalized in America; lots of stuff about how breaking the law may be the right thing to do if the law goes against your personal convictions and ignores the suffering of innocents, the morality of not using talents you have because they don't align with your beliefs, loss of a child figure, so on and so forth. But for some reason, I never really feel any of it. The film tends towards what I'd consider a fairly... i want to say lighthearted, but more laid back air would be the right term. You've got happy music playing over montages of people cheating on their spouse pulled away to war, or the secret funeral of a recently deceased orphan boy. And while the actors definitely show emotions (Toby Maguire's crying scenes make it easy for me to see why he was tapped for Spider-Man), it never seems quite as strong as feels it should be.
Some of this may be me and my preferences. I can appreciate subtle acting, and somewhat prefer larger than life characters. But even the strongest of performances in the film don't click with me. They are fine performances, don't get me wrong - special shout-out to Michael Caine as Doctor Larch and Delroy Lindo as Arthur Rose - but for a movie that seems tailor made to tug at the heartstrings, it really never does for me.
Having outed myself out as a complete know-nothing by criticizing the performances in a movie particularly noted for the strength of its performances, let me go on to say I do still like the story and thematic structure of the movie. For those not in the know and whom I've completely alienated by this point by talking in-depth about the film's characters without establishing any of them - the plot concerns perpetual orphan Homer Wells growing into his own man at the orphanage slash illegal abortion clinic where he lives with proprietor slash father figure Doctor Wilbur Larch. The board wants to replace Doctor Larch with someone younger (and presumedly more compliant with the law on abortions), but Homer is morally opposed to the abortion process, and eventually leaves with young couple Candy and Wally to live his own life and become an apple picker. While away, the situation back home slowly becomes more dire for Doctor Larch as the inevitable closes in, and Homer develops his own problems with his growing feelings for Candy. From there, it's a slow, steady boil to see if Homer will become his own man or return and use his skill as an abortionist to help those around him.
I suppose the tonal problem I mentioned is one inherent to the story and the way it's told. This isn't a huge, epic war between two towering egos who won't budge on their IMPLACABLE AND COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED VIEWS on THE SERIOUS AND IMPORTANT PROBLEM PLAGUING OUR COUNTRY.; it's the story of an adoptive father and son slowly drifting apart, and the potential for prosperity or tragedy for the both of them. The emotions ramping up too high would more than likely ruin the audience's perception of either character, and make it hard to sympathize with them for running away from responsibility or attempting to trick the other into coming back. I don't agree with it for the problems it causes with the tone for me, but I can understand why it's done that way.
They're not incredibly complicated characters (especially due to the need for them to remain simple to retain sympathy), but they are well-drawn. Homer's endearing for the passion he shows for the children, movies, and life beyond the orphanage. Despite his implied addiction to ether and determination to control Homer's life because he knows better, Doctor Larch comes off as a man far too set in his ways, yet still loving and well-meaning. And while I could talk about Candy or Wally, I'm much more interested in saying something about Arthur Rose, whose bits in the final third make a man who has done terrible, terrible things and isn't willing to cut people to get his way surprisingly relatable and pitiable. Really, he's my favorite character in the movie.
(Interesting side-note about Larch before moving on - I looked it up during the movie, and the use of ether for medical purposes was apparently banned in America decades before the movie takes place. Given his age, it makes his willingness to do abortions seem less progressive and more recessive - he probably learned the practice from someone else when he was younger and stuck with it throughout the decades because that's just how he does things. Adds a little extra layer to his character.)
And on the note of the characters being simple, I think it's also somewhat necessary for the themes to play out. They're best exemplified by one quote from late in the film - "Sometimes you gotta break some rules to put things straight." The central conflict is ultimately whether or not Homer will return to the orphanage to look after the children, even though someone else could take over and do just a good a job as him, even aligning with his own personal beliefs. But if he were to stay away, the abortions would stop, and some would suffer for it. The friction caused by his personal desires rubbing up against a legally questionable but morally righteous "destiny" is what makes the film compelling through the lack of engrossing, emotional performances - for me, anyways - and losing that by making someone empathize with Homer too much would take attention away from the purity of the thematic center.
Of course, that thematic strength is undermined somewhat by the lack of engaging performances. I think I understand why the choice was made to make the movie in this way, but it still keeps interesting themes from reaching their full potential. Maybe a little more energy, or less noodling around during the period where Homer's trying to avoid responsibility. But I really don't know.
Again, it's a little weird doing analysis of this film. I like to style myself a writer and teller of stories in general, so I should know a thing or two about it, even if I'm not very good at it. Just look at the writing above - jumping into analyzing things before I even introduce the story. But even for that, I'm just not experienced in analyzing and critiquing movies, and saying I have problems with a Best Picture nominee in a public space, even if I try to justify my reasoning and say I understand why the decisions were made the way they were - makes me feel like I'm committing some kind of cardinal sin. It's a compromising position is what it is.
Either way, I'd say The Cider House Rules is, for someone of my background and tastes, an enjoyable, if not particularly rewarding movie. It has enough charm (especially in the first third) and thematic depth (especially in the last third) to be engaging through performances that are well done but not very attention grabbing. I'm not really going to set up any kind of numbered rating system, but I'd say it's worth a watch if you've got the time and hankering.
(Just some quick assorted thoughts
- I saw that JK Simmons was in the movie, but I must've not been paying close attention in his scene, because I never saw him.
- The kids in the orphanage are really likable, although there wasn't any way Fuzzy was making it through the movie, being an innocent question-asker with bronchitis in a December release drama film.
- The various migrant workers all give good performances, but aren't really what I'd consider memorable by side character standards.
- Wuthering Heights officially confirmed for not as good as King Kong.
- I wasn't really sure where to put this in the review, so I'll say here while the film's central conflict of responsibility rubbing up against personal choice is intriguing, and it pulls off the finale well, I don't necessarily agree with the implication of one HAVING to use skills just because they have them and it's the "right thing to do, trademark." It just rubs me the wrong way for some reason, even though the film presents a very good argument that it IS the right thing for Homer to do.
-Amazon Prime's Oscar Winners category quite prominently displays Skyfall, yet they do not actually have Skyfall. Either it's a relic of when all the Bond movies were available on Prime, or they're trying to tempt me to actually spend money on individual films. I suspect the latter.)
So that's how things'll be operating around here. Poorly structured essays on whichever films I wind up rolling, followed by a half-assed rating and some various thoughts I didn't bother weaving into the actual body of the text. With any luck, I've succeeded in writing a piece you find entertaining, if not well put together, and I'm going to stop writing before I wind up unable to use anything but online film critic stock phrases. Have a good day, and see you next review.
A problem inherent with running a blog like this, I think, is that there's really no way of getting around being a jackanape from time to time. I am, by no means, a film critic (the first of many professions and hobbies I am by no means a practitioner of), nor am I a student of filmmaking (there's a second), so my take and analysis on some of the more prestigious films bound to crop up from time to time are inevitably going to be ill-informed, and perhaps even flat-out wrong. I haven't thought of any means of avoiding the issue yet, and I highly doubt I'll be able to do so 100%, but I'll at least do what I can to talk about the movies in a somewhat mature, analytical manner.
I mention this because the first film I'm set to talk about for this blog is Lasse Hallström's The Cider House Rules, a film about the moral righteousness or lack thereof of abortions, one nominated for Best Picture and several other categories at the Academy Awards - and one that caught my eye when I rolled it primarily because the cast had a lot of actors from superhero movies.
Like an awful lot of folks my age (early 20s, in case you're wondering), I'm an absolute dork for superhero films. I've been a huge fan ever since the first Spider-Man came out, and have followed them quasi-religiously for close on fifteen years now. My early Wikipedia binges were dedicated largely to reading about the characters and the upcoming films, and I scour my current internet lurking spots for any news on them. I've seen almost every single one of the Marvel Cinematic Universe films in theaters, I'm extremely excited for the upcoming Batman V Superman movie, and Nic Cage's Ghost Rider is one of my favorite films despite the fact that I know it's objectively a bad film. I don't regret any of this, as I don't think there's anything WRONG with liking and getting heavily invested in this stuff, but it makes me feel a little odd here. I open up the cast for a movie, see Toby Maguire, Paul Rudd, and Charlize Theron, and think to myself, "Oh neat, Spider-Man, Ant-Man and Furiosa."
(I liked Fury Road, OK?)
((Also, on further reading, I found out Charlize Theron was in Hancock as the wife, but I didn't know that before and thus didn't bring it up.))
The idea of there being levels of film ,with the higher ones possessing an intrinsically higher quality and worth towards the culture, has never appealed to me, but identifying the actors in that manner makes me feel like a plebeian walking into a showing of 8 1/2 and pissing on the projector.
Not helping matters any was turning the movie on and finding its intro somewhat humorous. Not laugh out loud funny, but more in the "what is happening on screen and what is happening in the editing seem a little bit at odds with each other" sort of funny. You get the introductions to Doctor Larch (hi Alfred - I mean, My Cocaine - I mean, Michael Caine) and baby Homer Wells, which is perfectly fine, but when they start talking about how nobody wants him because he's too quiet, and one of his foster parents beating him, and Doctor Larch showing him how to perform an abortion against his objections... and all the while the happy, tinkly piano music just sorta powers on through. I don't really know much about music, but I am around... ninety, ninety-five percent certain "they beat him to stop him crying" is the sort of statement you don't play "isn't everything idyllic and wonderful right now" music over.
If I had to criticize the movie on any one major point, it'd be one related to that music. It deals with some pretty heavy stuff, even for a movie from the late 90s almost two decades after abortion was legalized in America; lots of stuff about how breaking the law may be the right thing to do if the law goes against your personal convictions and ignores the suffering of innocents, the morality of not using talents you have because they don't align with your beliefs, loss of a child figure, so on and so forth. But for some reason, I never really feel any of it. The film tends towards what I'd consider a fairly... i want to say lighthearted, but more laid back air would be the right term. You've got happy music playing over montages of people cheating on their spouse pulled away to war, or the secret funeral of a recently deceased orphan boy. And while the actors definitely show emotions (Toby Maguire's crying scenes make it easy for me to see why he was tapped for Spider-Man), it never seems quite as strong as feels it should be.
Some of this may be me and my preferences. I can appreciate subtle acting, and somewhat prefer larger than life characters. But even the strongest of performances in the film don't click with me. They are fine performances, don't get me wrong - special shout-out to Michael Caine as Doctor Larch and Delroy Lindo as Arthur Rose - but for a movie that seems tailor made to tug at the heartstrings, it really never does for me.
Having outed myself out as a complete know-nothing by criticizing the performances in a movie particularly noted for the strength of its performances, let me go on to say I do still like the story and thematic structure of the movie. For those not in the know and whom I've completely alienated by this point by talking in-depth about the film's characters without establishing any of them - the plot concerns perpetual orphan Homer Wells growing into his own man at the orphanage slash illegal abortion clinic where he lives with proprietor slash father figure Doctor Wilbur Larch. The board wants to replace Doctor Larch with someone younger (and presumedly more compliant with the law on abortions), but Homer is morally opposed to the abortion process, and eventually leaves with young couple Candy and Wally to live his own life and become an apple picker. While away, the situation back home slowly becomes more dire for Doctor Larch as the inevitable closes in, and Homer develops his own problems with his growing feelings for Candy. From there, it's a slow, steady boil to see if Homer will become his own man or return and use his skill as an abortionist to help those around him.
I suppose the tonal problem I mentioned is one inherent to the story and the way it's told. This isn't a huge, epic war between two towering egos who won't budge on their IMPLACABLE AND COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED VIEWS on THE SERIOUS AND IMPORTANT PROBLEM PLAGUING OUR COUNTRY.; it's the story of an adoptive father and son slowly drifting apart, and the potential for prosperity or tragedy for the both of them. The emotions ramping up too high would more than likely ruin the audience's perception of either character, and make it hard to sympathize with them for running away from responsibility or attempting to trick the other into coming back. I don't agree with it for the problems it causes with the tone for me, but I can understand why it's done that way.
They're not incredibly complicated characters (especially due to the need for them to remain simple to retain sympathy), but they are well-drawn. Homer's endearing for the passion he shows for the children, movies, and life beyond the orphanage. Despite his implied addiction to ether and determination to control Homer's life because he knows better, Doctor Larch comes off as a man far too set in his ways, yet still loving and well-meaning. And while I could talk about Candy or Wally, I'm much more interested in saying something about Arthur Rose, whose bits in the final third make a man who has done terrible, terrible things and isn't willing to cut people to get his way surprisingly relatable and pitiable. Really, he's my favorite character in the movie.
(Interesting side-note about Larch before moving on - I looked it up during the movie, and the use of ether for medical purposes was apparently banned in America decades before the movie takes place. Given his age, it makes his willingness to do abortions seem less progressive and more recessive - he probably learned the practice from someone else when he was younger and stuck with it throughout the decades because that's just how he does things. Adds a little extra layer to his character.)
And on the note of the characters being simple, I think it's also somewhat necessary for the themes to play out. They're best exemplified by one quote from late in the film - "Sometimes you gotta break some rules to put things straight." The central conflict is ultimately whether or not Homer will return to the orphanage to look after the children, even though someone else could take over and do just a good a job as him, even aligning with his own personal beliefs. But if he were to stay away, the abortions would stop, and some would suffer for it. The friction caused by his personal desires rubbing up against a legally questionable but morally righteous "destiny" is what makes the film compelling through the lack of engrossing, emotional performances - for me, anyways - and losing that by making someone empathize with Homer too much would take attention away from the purity of the thematic center.
Of course, that thematic strength is undermined somewhat by the lack of engaging performances. I think I understand why the choice was made to make the movie in this way, but it still keeps interesting themes from reaching their full potential. Maybe a little more energy, or less noodling around during the period where Homer's trying to avoid responsibility. But I really don't know.
Again, it's a little weird doing analysis of this film. I like to style myself a writer and teller of stories in general, so I should know a thing or two about it, even if I'm not very good at it. Just look at the writing above - jumping into analyzing things before I even introduce the story. But even for that, I'm just not experienced in analyzing and critiquing movies, and saying I have problems with a Best Picture nominee in a public space, even if I try to justify my reasoning and say I understand why the decisions were made the way they were - makes me feel like I'm committing some kind of cardinal sin. It's a compromising position is what it is.
Either way, I'd say The Cider House Rules is, for someone of my background and tastes, an enjoyable, if not particularly rewarding movie. It has enough charm (especially in the first third) and thematic depth (especially in the last third) to be engaging through performances that are well done but not very attention grabbing. I'm not really going to set up any kind of numbered rating system, but I'd say it's worth a watch if you've got the time and hankering.
(Just some quick assorted thoughts
- I saw that JK Simmons was in the movie, but I must've not been paying close attention in his scene, because I never saw him.
- The kids in the orphanage are really likable, although there wasn't any way Fuzzy was making it through the movie, being an innocent question-asker with bronchitis in a December release drama film.
- The various migrant workers all give good performances, but aren't really what I'd consider memorable by side character standards.
- Wuthering Heights officially confirmed for not as good as King Kong.
- I wasn't really sure where to put this in the review, so I'll say here while the film's central conflict of responsibility rubbing up against personal choice is intriguing, and it pulls off the finale well, I don't necessarily agree with the implication of one HAVING to use skills just because they have them and it's the "right thing to do, trademark." It just rubs me the wrong way for some reason, even though the film presents a very good argument that it IS the right thing for Homer to do.
-Amazon Prime's Oscar Winners category quite prominently displays Skyfall, yet they do not actually have Skyfall. Either it's a relic of when all the Bond movies were available on Prime, or they're trying to tempt me to actually spend money on individual films. I suspect the latter.)
So that's how things'll be operating around here. Poorly structured essays on whichever films I wind up rolling, followed by a half-assed rating and some various thoughts I didn't bother weaving into the actual body of the text. With any luck, I've succeeded in writing a piece you find entertaining, if not well put together, and I'm going to stop writing before I wind up unable to use anything but online film critic stock phrases. Have a good day, and see you next review.
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