Blog From The Bench

Yeah, so it's seven months into 2006, and I'm just posting my favorites list from 2005 only now. Well, as I think is the case with the vast majority of film buffs, I had to wait for DVD releases to see a number of last year's most acclaimed films.

Plus I spent a long time on this. So...

introduction

10. match point

"...Match Point may be a sleek and highly sexualized take on existential angst, and it could be written off as Dostoyevsky-lite for the Starbucks crowd, but theres that undeniable sense that rot is beginning to seep through the gloss...and then suddenly the film is stewing in its own outburst of ugliness. Dirty pretty things indeed."

My Full Review
Judge Stewart's Review

09. the upside of anger

"...The Upside of Anger is a perfect example of a "messy" film that in many way succeeds much more than many more technically precise ones. I suppose its rambling, episodic plot could be considered a drawback, but I thought it ended up being one of the film's greatest strengths—it's one of the closest depictions of the novel format I've ever come across in cinema."

My Full Review
Judge Keefer's Review

08. pride and prejudice

"...Yes, the period trapping are retained, but what is brought to the surface is that very thing that makes Pride and Prejudice so beloved in the first place: the smart and witty story that still remains surprisingly fresh even after 200 years of nonstop idolization. In this film the Bennetts, Bingleys & Co. are real, recognizable people, and sleepy Longbourn is transformed from a fairy tale location of the imagination into a real place where people live and love and die."

My Full Review
Judge Cullum's Review

07. ma mere

"...it really dug into me—I realized that even months after seeing it I still couldn’t get it out of my mind, that images and sequences and moments and music selections managed to imprint themselves on my mind with much more permanence than many “better” films. What can I say? Ma Mere was reviled by just about everyone on its release, and it’s not hard to figure out why—it’s a disturbing, aesthetically beautiful but emotionally ugly film..."

My Full Review
My Review for DVD Verdict

06. c.r.a.z.y.

"...in a lot of ways, C.R.A.Z.Y. reminded me a lot of The Royal Tenenbaums, a great favorite of mine—there’s the same technique of using vivid details as a touchstone for audience orientation and identification, but C.R.A.Z.Y. strikes me as a much more organic, maybe even more honest take on the subject of identity and frazzled family units.”

My Full Review
Not currently available on R1 DVD

05. shopgirl

"...it’s a romance film, a slight variation on the familiar chick flick formula, but with a streak melancholy that gives it a slight bite. And that’s what I was really drawn too—that desperate sense of despair that seems to be rotting the underside of the SoCal gloss (which is something I observe frequently in my own life). Maybe that’s why I never thought the filmed lapsed into preciousness—I always felt an underlying awareness that the prettiness could crack at any moment.”

My Full Review
Judge Birmingham's Review

04. rois et reine (kings and queen)

"...it seems so ridiculous that a single film can so easily reach for such heights and depths of human emotion—the effect is quite dizzying. Arnaud Desplechin’s Rois et Reine is the type of film that reads like an incomprehensible mess, any yet, as the film (all 150 minutes of it) unwinds itself, it all seems so natural, so effortless… and as a result, it’s easy to forgot how many risks the film navigates.”

My Full Review
My Review for DVD Verdict

03. junebug (tie)

"... instead of serving as necessary pawns shuffled around to present the filmmaker’s message (usually of tolerance), Junebug presents its characters as people—absurd, contradictory and infuriating, but each with their own endearing and redeeming qualities (though in some characters it takes more searching than others).”

My Full Review
Judge Babish's Review

03. linda linda linda (tie)

"... the film initially seems rather banal in an innocuous kind of way, but it just takes a little while to get going, and quite soon I was completely wrapped up in this tiny, seemingly inconsequential story of friendships and the creation of memories that last a lifetime.”

My Full Review
Not currently available on DVD.

02) mysterious skin

"... filmed in vivid colors that seem to blur around the edges, Mysterious Skin unfolds like a dream, or a half-remembered nightmare; it’s one of the best depictions I’ve come across demonstrating how the memory latches onto scattered fragments of emotions and experiences and mysteriously synthesizes them in a way that they end up forming the foundation of the self...”

My Full Review
Judge Cullum's Review

01. 2046

"Coming as a surprise to absolutely no one, Wong Kar Wai’s feverish, lopsided love ballad tops this list. Simultaneously an ode to love and an elegy to love lost, it haunted my memory and my mind for months after seeing it—and still does… 2046 is the type of film I can point to and say “this is why I watch movies.” I can’t, and don’t, ask for anything more than that.”

My Full Review
My Full Analysis
Judge Mancini's Review

honorable mentions

the white countess

"...it's such an intensely beautiful films in so many ways—the acting, the craftsmanship, the sets and art direction, and most of all, Christopher Doyle's luminous cinematography that brings 1930's Shanghai to vivid life."

My Full Review
No Review Currently Available from DVD Verdict

the girl in the cafe

"The name makes it sounds like an Impressionist masterwork, but this unassuming little TV movie is actually more in the key of Edward Hopper. A muted little character piece that covers a lot of the same territory of the more flashy and critically lauded The Constant Gardner, I found it much more accessible, and perhaps more importantly, the more emotionally resonant of the two."

My Full Review
Judge Stewart's Review

mr. and mrs. smith

"...our generation's Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers equivalent—only the game has changed, and instead of being forced to dance backwards in high heels, the girl’s got a gun. And definitely not a "girl gun," thank you very much."

My Full Review
Judge Stewart's Review

And that's it. See you all July 2007.

One of the most cleverly titled films I've ever come across (and I won't give away why), there was lots of personal connections and identifications going on here. I was perhaps most impressed with the treatment of Zac (Marc-André Grondin) and his tangled sexuality-- the second time around, I really noticed how the "struggle for sexual identity" is not presented as the film's raison d'être, rather, it shows how there are so many other things he has to deal with-- religion, relationships with his family, relationships with his friends, etc. before he can ever hope to find who he really is. And that's what makes C.R.A.Z.Y really truthful in the way it depicts teenage sexuality in general, because it shows that while sexuality is undeniably a driving force in, well, everything, it never occurs within a vacuum, but is tied very intimately with all aspects of life. I don't think we see that very often in films, especially films dealing with people around my age.

I also found that C.R.A.Z.Y. very astutely examines familial relationships-- many of the most memorable and affecting moments in the film are not only those that capture the inevitable moments of conflict and the brief glimpses of reconciliation, but in the the way the film dares to really delve into how much influence one's family ties really shapes identity, and does it with much more clarity, depth and perhaps even sympathy and understanding than a film like, say, The Family Stone.

It also helps that the acting is uniformly excellent-- both Michel Côté and Grondin are excellent, but Danielle Proulx gives a particularly great supporting performance as the frazzled matriarch of the testosterone-fueled Beaulieu family. C.R.A.Z.Y. also boasts one of the best soundtracks to surface in a film in quite a while (which is high praise indeed, there were some really fine ones in 2005), featuring essential tracks from the likes of Patsy Cline, Charles Aznavour and David Bowie; the music in turn helps highlight the film's really keen sense of time and place. Aside from a single misstep about 2/3 of the way through with an unexpected trip to the Middle East (where the hell did that come from?), the film quickly regains its step for a poignant and ultimately satisfying final act (though it does feel a tad rushed and too neatly tied together).

In a lot of ways, C.R.A.Z.Y. strikes me as a film very similar to The Royal Tenenbaums, but with a much more organic, and perhaps, more honest take on the subject. It's really a shame that American audiences may not ever get the chance to see this one (soundtrack issues, from what I understand), because this crazy tale is easily one of 2005's finest.

The unexpected swan song of the fabled Merchant and Ivory collaboration turn to a setting that Casablanca made famous: that of the mythic bar. Not the typical Friday-evening-beer kind of joint, but the glamorous social microcosm stuffed to capacity with patrons dressed to kill maneuvering through picturesque billows of smoke, where classy entertainment is the featured attraction, knowing full well that the political intrigue in the dark corners is where the action is really at.

But The White Countess goes where Casablanca dares not to go—the destruction of this beautiful little dreamworld. As Ilsa disappears into the night sky and Rick utters his memorable closing quip to Renault, the viewer gets the impression that Rick’s Café Americain is indestructible—and indeed, it is (at least in the memory). But where Rick’s Café merely serves as a canvas in which unforgettable characters can be showcased, the White Countess Bar is utilized as a glittering symbol of a whole world on the brink of destruction.

Among the characters we find lurking amid the shadows of the White Countess Bar is Ralph Fiennes as a former American diplomat who creates his dream bar in reaction to a tragic accident that rendered him blind and Natasha Richardson as the title character—the stunning Russian expatriate Fiennes plucks from an existence of abject poverty, transforming her into a dazzling hostess for Shanghai’s elite along the way.

Richardson, who rarely gets the opportunity to head a film, shines as the Countess Sophia Belinsky. Now in her early 40’s, Richardson is at that delicate age where her physical beauty is starting to betray itself—and Richardson wisely uses this as an essential element of the Countess’s character. It’s a powerhouse performance, but a nuanced one, and its unfortunate that it hasn’t received any awards recognition whatsoever. On the other hand, as the blind and embittered American abroad, Fiennes’s performance is more problematic, plagued by the fact that at times he’s not believable as either blind or American. He gets by mostly on the charisma of his presence, which is formidable.

But at times it seems that the real star of the show aren’t the characters, but the setting. Christopher Doyle chalks up another visual masterpiece to his ever-lengthening filmography, with his camera 1930’s Shanghai comes alive… glowing in rich shades of gold, greens and scarlet with an overabundance of expressive shadows, The White Countess looks like a Wong Kar-Wai film made by, well, Merchant and Ivory. Visually, The White Countess is one of the most accomplished films of the year—it’s almost worth seeing on account of the amazing images alone.

Despite its star power (joining Richardson is British acting royalty Lynn and Vanessa Redgrave playing exiled Russian royalty) and it’s ravishing visual sensibility, The White Countess certainly has it share of flaws. At times it's too ponderous, at others too self-important, but really, when it comes down to it, what Merchant and Ivory production isn’t? A movie that lingers nicely in the mind, ultimately attaining a glowing patina that burnishes itself in the memory.

Just beautiful. 8/10

Finally somebody has dared to film Jane Austen's classic novel the way it should be. While retaining the period trappings, this film brings to the surface what makes Pride and Prejudice so beloved in the first place: the smart and witty story that after nearly 200 years remains refreshingly modern. We've nearly drowned poor Elizabeth and Darcy in our collective worship over the centuries, but Joe Wright has found a way to make the Bennetts, Bingleys & Co. into real, recognizable people, and transform sleeply Longbourn from a fairy tale location of the imagination into a real place where people live and love and die.

Utilizing a surprising number of long and complicated tracking shots, the camera roves restlessly through the corridors and rooms of Austen's world, capturing its inhabitants in various preoccupied states, whether it be gossiping behind (almost) closed doors, dancing wildly or practicing the pianoforte-- it establishes the sense that this is an authentic world teeming with life, and not merely movie sets or elegant location shots. The film's tour-de-force sequence, in my mind, is the ball early on in the film: functioning as kind of a small-scale Russian Ark, the camera tracks through swirling bodies in motion and halls cramped with overdressed gossip mongers, all the while witnessing small, intimate stories of personal triumph and humiliation. This, in my mind, is how a comedy of manners should look on the screen: it effortlessly captures the endless criss-crossing of paths, furtive glances, and awkward missteps that occur in any party and transforms it into something resembling an endlessly complicated social dance. Brilliant.

In her third film released this year, Kiera Knightley makes a surprisingly luminous Elizabeth Bennett, imbuing the role not only with the spunk and high-spirits we associate with the character, but also conveying an underlying delicacy and vulnerability-- when she realizes her mistakes there's a genuine sense that the world for one girl is collapsing in on itself. I would have never thought of Knightley for the role-- her unconventional beauty and blend of fragility and backbone seem more in tune with the moors of the Brontë sisters than Austen's drawing rooms-- but she's an inspired casting choice, and it pays of handsomely (not only for the film, but for Knightley-- this could be her first bona fide great performance). And even if I have a few reservations with Matthew MacFadyen's turn as Mr. Darcy, but he's appropriately brittle, and the first tier of the supporting performances (from Rosamund Pike to Donald Sutherland to Brenda Blethyn) are uniformly excellent.

But it was actually several of the performances from the lesser supporting characters that really captured my attention. I adored Simon Woods's turn as Mr. Bingley-- as I read the book I had pictured him as a rather dull and bland one-dimensional character, but Simon Woods brings the role such a sense of affability and fun that I found him more interesting than his good friend Mr. Darcy. And when is Claudie Blakley going to get some recognition? A fan of hers since her heartbreaking turn in Gosford Park, she's a plain-faced but remarkably radiant actress, and she makes the most of the role of Charlotte Lucas (she nails her big scene when she tells Elizabeth that she is to marry the spurned Mr. Collins). The only weak spot in this robust cast is Rupert Friend as Mr. Wickham, but his storyline is so truncated I can hardly blame him for weak characterization.

The only time the films stumbles is when it actually does start veering off into Emily Brontë territory-- complete with misty moors at morning and chest-heaving embraces-- as the film heads towards its conclusion, and damn you American preview audiences for demanding that ridiculous final scene on the porch. But not even these flaws can begin to tarnish this diamond of a film-- it's easily one of the best I've seen all year.

Haven't posted here in a while, but after glancing through some of the reviews posted here, I thought I should squeeze in some thoughts on a no-budget relationship dramadey between the thoughts on chocolate bars, fantastic quartets, etc. Anyway, here's my thoughts on the current indie darling which is playing at most independant theatres.

ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW (2005)
Directed, Written By and Starring Miranda July

I'm not quite convinced that it's good, but it's certainly interesting. A pointed and relevant examination of both technology's ever-increasing power to shape human behavior and the popular idiom "it takes a village to raise a child," Miranda July's debut film nearly strangles itself by sheer "quirkiness" overload (a problem currently plaguing the American indie scene), but from the static emerges something undeniably intriguing. By the end, the film has become an interesting look at the eroding idea of community in modern America, and the startling phenomenon of complete disconnection between people whose lives are very obviously overlapping.

At times it feels like ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW is relying too much on pure shock value (it was certainly getting a reaction from the primarily gray-haired audience I watched it with), but at the same time, it's July's audacity that pushes the film's most provocative points. What is technology, particularly the internet, doing to us as a society, as individuals? As one storyline demonstrates, online communication gives us an outlet to share sides of ourselves we wouldn't dare reveal in a face-to-face encounter, but is that increased emotional vulnerability useful and healthy, or simply another illusion? Is the internet connecting us, or building more boundaries between us?

Obviously, ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW brings up more questions than answers, but the points that are made manage to be both stomach-turning and deeply funny, giving this mess much more relevance than I had initially expected. 7/10

FRANNY AND ZOOEY by J.D. Salinger

I've been finding that one of the best ways to chart my maturity as a person is by gaging my reactions to certain pieces of art when I return to them at different points in my life. The first major example of this would be the day in late grade school when I realized how poorly written the Boxcar Children Series is (it's bad to the point of unreadable, even with the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia), and has continued through the more recent reevaluations that has caused VERTIGO and Hitchcock films in general to drop out of my favorite film lists (immaculately polished mystery/thrillers are no longer what I respond to) and the acknowledgment of Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter as a true masterpiece of American literature (I despised it senior year of high school).

Anyway, I finished J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey, which I usually name as my all-time favorite book, about a week ago. It's the third time I've read this married pair of short stories in about a four year block of time (I really can't recall the first time I read it- late high school, I'm pretty sure), and it's taken about a week to figure out what exactly this book says about me and who I am as a reader, as a critic, and as a person.

One of the first things I noticed is that Salinger's prose style doesn't impress me nearly as much as it used to. I used to adore his breezy but sarcastic style, and in many ways that is still a large part of the appeal of his writing: the off-the-cuff fashion he writes his stories (a blend of stream-of-consciousness and straight-forward third person narration), the wry humor, and the astonishingly precarious line he walks between utter pretentiousness and true intellectual sincerity. But at times there seems to be a sense of artlessness in the way Salinger writes (which is perhaps intentional), and he has a noticeable and self-indulgent habit of plunging into lengthy lists of unnecessary details that slow down the general pace of his stories. At the present time I find the most fault in the long-winded repetition- as delightful as the extended exchanges between the characters of Franny and Zooey are, by the second time it happens (on the phone at the conclusion of the story), most of the initial charm has disappeared. The opening narration by Zooey is similarly overwrought and verbose. (But then I can't help but thinking "could Salinger be Salinger without a certain amount of self-indulgence?" And when it comes down to it, I don't think that is possible.)

Not so much in "Franny" (which is rather slight but effectively captures a certain kind of adolescent relationship dynamic that I still find quite appealing), this time more than ever I appreciated not only the views on philosophy, theology, society and art that Salinger shoots endlessly at the reader, but the way Salinger constructs "Zooey" around a series of unexpected set pieces and the focus on the several conversations between Zooey and Franny, and Zooey and Bessie, the weary but endlessly spunky matriarch of the Glass family.

There's just something brilliant about Salinger's decision to set exactly half of "Zooey" in the Glass family bathroom, and a large section of that with Zooey sitting rather spitefully in the bathtub. It's so... unorthodox that I can't help but love it. It's an interesting place to set an extended piece of narrative, as the bathroom could very well be the most intimate and personal room in a house (much more than the bedroom, really), and the habits and details found there can be very telling about a person (or character's) personality. The way that Zooey sits in the bathtub, the way he shaves, the manner in which he uses the shower curtain as a kind of emotional barrier between him and his mother is integral to our perception of Zooey as a character, and occur in a way that wouldn't have been possible to express in any other location in the house. Wes Anderson was wise enough to steal the whole set-up for one of the best scenes of THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS, just one of the many homages to Salinger throughout that film.

I also like the way in which Salinger places so much emphasis on the three main conversations in the book (despite my misgivings with the third). To me, this seems to highlight a technique I'm beginning to see running through the entire Salinger oeuvre- dialogue as a means of character development, and ultimately, emotional revelation. There's an intense exploration of the inevitable connections humans make while they talk- the games that are played, and the sheer vulnerability of being emotionally exposed during conversation. Salinger's dialogue is rarely natural- it's a very deliberate and studied (and some would argue " unnaturally literary") exchange of ideas and abstract concepts. But this kind of peculiar dialogue is Salinger at his best, and is of a particular type that can only be sustained and rendered believable in the very contained microcosms Salinger creates in his various short stories (a category Franny and Zooey could be included in). For all his pessimism, Salinger seems to think that the emotional bonds formed through conversations are integral in both creating and dissecting the essence of a character, a theory (whether intended or not) I find fascinating and very, very appealing in nature.

So when all is said and done, is Franny and Zooey still my favorite book? The answer, which I took a long time to consider, is ultimately a resounding yes. I can no longer look past some of its gaping flaws, but I have come to love the book despite, and in some ways because, of its flaws. It's a book jam-packed with thoughts and ideas, sensations and impulses, feelings and emotions, a story of a group of glamorous eccentrics and lovable misfits that reveal beneath their intellectual posturings a very real human heart, and I'll be lucky if I ever reach the same level of awareness and revelation in my own writing.

I'm way behind in my reviewing... but not for lack of effort. I've found that writing reviews for films I particularly like or even love are infinitely harder than ones I merely like, are mediocre, or are just plain bad.

And that's the problem I'm having with no less than three films in my queue, because I'm struggling to find the words to express my appreciation for these films in a way that would allow other people to understand and recognize why I feel that particular way.

It's like I feel indebted to these films somehow, and it's quite intimidating, even paralyzing. And it's much worse than writers block, in my opinion.

Bah, maybe I should just stop over-analyzing and just write something.

... after the Jean-Luc incident I just happened to have a real Star Trek incident this week(!). I saw Armin Shimerman (Quark on "Deep Space Nine") last night. As the fool in King Lear at the San Diego Rep Theatre, no less.

And he was great. Both bitingly sarcastic and hysterically funny at the same time.

So they're you go. Quark and Shakespeare- who would have thought?

I always forget that there are more fanatical Trekkies out there than devoted fans of semi-obscure Godard films.

But I'm sure there's at least two of us out there who link the name Jean-Luc with Godard and not everybody's favorite bald Enterprise Commander.

I think.

*looks around*

Okay, nevermind.

(As a sidenote, however, the boots described below are all the rage with female college students in sunny San Diego. I can think of few things sillier. Unless it's pairing those things with a mini-skirt, which is often the case.)

And no, I'm not talking about NOTRE MUSIQUE...

MASCULIN-FEMININ is back in all of its anarchic glory, restored by Railto and making its way across the country (or at least that's the impression I'm getting).

I actually think this is one of Godard's most underappreciated films, a key film in his transition from his earlier, more narrative/homage bound films to the, well, uniquely Godardian films of his later career. And I have Pauline Kael to back me up on this one!

Interesting bit of trivia: Marlène Jobert, who stars as Elisabeth, is the mother of the delicious Eva Green of DREAMERS fame.

For those of you with Quicktime capabilties: the awesome trailer.

Hopefully this'll make its way to San Diego, but I'm not going to count on it. I may need to make a special trip up to LA just for the occasion.