Friday, September 28, 2018

Director's Spotlight: Quentin Tarantino

He was on the trail of being one of the great filmmakers after his first three movies. Unfortunately, he began to believe his own hype, and love the smell of his own farts too much (that happens when you live with your head up your own ass) to really make anything great since. He still has the talent, and that talent can shine through, but he was Quentin Tarantino up until Jackie Brown, and then after that he became QUENTIN TARANTINO, BEST FILMMAKER ALIVE!!! And he lost that special something that makes a great artist. He lost his sense of place and sense of self. Or probably more accurately, he didn’t lose his sense of self, but his sense of self changed.

There was this great series on the Sundance channel a few years ago called Iconoclasts. Essentially, two famous people from different fields would hang out and ask each other questions and talk. There was an episode with QT and Fiona Apple. In it, he talked about how he knew nothing bad would happen to him because God had put him here to make movies. He felt untouchable after Reservoir Dogs, because he knew that wasn’t the movie he was put here to make. But then after he made Pulp Fiction he thought, “uh oh, I’m not invincible anymore. That’s the movie I was put here to make.” I think he then took shelter in adapting an Elmore Leonard book, since Leonard was the writer/artist he stole more from than anyone else. He adapted Rum Punch into Jackie Brown and then I think he felt kinda lost.

Since then he has become a parody of himself, but he’s believed his own press too much to create something new because he’s enjoyed increased commercial success while continuing to have critical success. But he’s got nothing to say anymore. Even when watching a new movie of his, there’s nothing that feels new in it. He’s just repeating himself in different ways. Despite increased technical abilities and increased budgets, he’s not done anything exciting since Jackie Brown. Everything he does now is an exercise in style.

And he's very good at those exercises in style. Something like Django Unchained is a really good western movie. But even though it's different than a traditional western, it's not surprising, it's not exciting. It's just a good exercise in style. It's shallow, cheap. As Roger Ebert would sometimes say, there's no there there. There's nothing underneath the surface. QT isn't trying to get at anything deep. He's just exercising his style. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's not something that will get someone on my list of favorite filmmakers.


My rankings of his work:
  1. Pulp Fiction – 10/10
  2. Jackie Brown – 9/10
  3. Django Unchained – 8/10
  4. Kill Bill (both) – 7/10
  5. Inglorious Basterds – 7/10
  6. Hateful Eight – 6/10
  7. Reservoir Dogs – 6/10
  8. Death Proof – 4/10

A few quick thoughts on The Hateful Eight



Caught up to Tarantino' latest a few months ago but didn't write out my thoughts, here are a few, mostly unorganized, ones:

It's an hour too long

The actors are all game, and really bring it, even Channing Tatum. But Walton Goggins and Sam Jackson rise above the rest and are really special. Jackson's not as amazing as he was in Django, which might be his best work as an actor, but he's still wonderful. Even when Tarantino has him delivering one of the stupidest monologues I've ever heard to Bruce Dern, Jackson still sells it so much that it almost works. Walton Goggins perfectly balances, throughout the whole piece, a wild intensity and an endearing goofiness. He's always been a reliable character actor, but this is terrific work.

Tarantino's voice is really off putting. Having himself as the narrator, even for just like two sections of the movie really was jarring to the point of taking me out of the experience. I think it's also jarring and ruinous because he does not start out with narration nor finish with it. There's only a narration to add connecting pieces to certain parts of the movie. That's bad writing. That makes it feel out of place just in its existence. This is what people are talking about when they say that narration is lazy. I don't agree that narration is lazy in and of itself, but here it's just a way for QT to insert his presence into things even more, not because it works or because it's needed.

The opening couple of chapters feel like Tarantino has gone heavily back to the well of stealing from Elmore Leonard, this time from Leonard's amazing western stories he started out writing. These chapters are quieter, but talky, more engaging than what follows, riveting even. Shortening the second half of the movie might've allowed this early intrigue and impact to matter more in the end. It doesn't, and that's unfortunate. That opening passage of getting them to the cabin is absolutely expert writing, acting, and filmmaking. But it's all downhill from there.

The allegations of misogyny are really stupid. QT isn't the most "woke" of people in the world, but it's obvious that these characters are misogynists, not the movie itself.

It's obviously Tarantino's best looking and sounding movie. The photography is tremendous and although Ennio Morricone's score is under used, what's there is great. Impressive feeling movie up until the stage play of everything in the cabin.

Although it starts out feeling like maybe QT has finally grown up, once that first chapter inside the cabin is over, the movie goes sharply downhill into the usual violence and messiness as a storyteller that always gets QT in trouble in my book. Though I do like the contrast of starting out in the open nature (though nature is bearing down on them) but feeling very intimate and contained, to then actually opening up as they enter a confined space. It's an interesting story dynamic, but not one that really goes anywhere. It's one of those things that's more interesting to talk about than it is to view. Because when it becomes a stage play, it really loses a sense of itself as a filmic being. There are ways of making cinematic choices for stage play adaptations or making things flow better, but QT is pretty content to try and have his writing carry things. That's the wrong move. As he has become more QUENTIN TARANTINO and less Quentin Tarantino, his writing has suffered. He is now a much more talented visual filmmaker than he is a writer. I think his writing has become lazy and much less effective than it used to be. He's a better director than writer now, and that wasn't always the case.

I think that's all I've got for now. I would need to re-watch it to give a true proper write up, and honestly I don't think I will ever feel the need to watch this movie again. I will still go back and watch Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown, but those have become QT's only movies I have any passion for. They're his only movies that hold in my mind. Even Django, which I liked a good deal, doesn't pull me back to it. I don't think The Hateful Eight will either.

Thursday, September 27, 2018

What is Fight Club about?

I have never read the book Fight Club. I have only seen the movie. I want to preface this post with that information. Every time I talk about what Fight Club is or isn't saying, I am talking about the movie.


I was listening recently to author Chuck Palahniuk on Joe Rogan's podcast and they were talking about Fight Club as being a way for guys to come together and talk about their lives and their feelings the way that women do over books all the time. Palahniuk said that men basically only have Fight Club and Dead Poets Society. But he also talked about how some philosophers have said that men need a secondary father figure to be the mentor in their lives to healthily grow (what Tyler essentially represents in the story). Rogan is joining in making the parallel to martial arts and self mastery and discipline and how important that is for self growth and self worth. It's an interesting conversation and has really stirred that pot within my brain.

The problem I have with this is that even if I agreed that men need to express their internal energies in an external violent way (I don't agree with that), I would still say that Fight Club isn't about any of these things that they're talking about. If anything it shows the opposite, that expressing these violent tendencies makes the men into fighting addicts and brainless submissives rather than more fully functioning adults. To me it is saying that this expressing of violence is the opposite extreme to what the Narrator (Ed Norton) had been living, a life of consumerism and relative passivity. There needs to be a balance in life, of course, but the movie doesn't really show or say that. Even ultimately its ending tries to feel emotionally like a resolution, though it resolves nothing and is illogical and idiotic.

Now, maybe the book and movie have different agendas, I don't know, again I haven't read the book. Maybe this is getting into misleading territory with the author of the book commenting on something that I only have knowledge of the movie version, but I think Palahniuk is way off here about what his intention was versus what was created. The men in Fight Club don't talk about their lives, their feelings, or become more whole human beings. They don't express anything but anger and frustration through acts of violence, ultimately turning to terrorism. There has always seemed to me to be an internal dissonance within Fight Club because of this. It's not as smart as it thinks it is, and I don't think it's saying what it thinks it's saying.

The movie turns in on itself in the third act, as the members of Fight Club become submissive terrorist followers to their leader Tyler (Brad Pitt), but then what does that mean for what the movie is saying? Is it then reversing its agenda and showing Tyler to be in the wrong the whole time? Is it then positing that violence is not the answer? Ultimately no, it actually abandons thematic meanings to try and end on a note of hope for the relationship between the broken Marla (Helena Bonham Carter) and the Narrator. Why? Why should we hope for anything for these two people individually or together? They've seemingly learned nothing, and don't have any kind of model relationship that will save either of them from the demons that will come back to haunt them again.

I think my issue is that I feel like the movie doesn’t ultimately say anything at all. It brings up points about consumerism, masculinity, and other things, but with the way that the story ends, it doesn’t then present anything else as a conclusion. So we’re left with these points, which cause questions, and that’s certainly not a bad thing. But the movie also doesn’t have anything to say about the questions it brings up, I don’t think. Questions are good. I like a movie asking questions. But I guess I think a movie should be more than a question. Even movies that present an issue but then don’t take sides on the issue ultimately are explicitly asking for a discussion of the issue. When a movie presents itself like it has an answer in the Id embodiment that is Tyler, only to subvert that by showing Tyler to be wrong (maybe? I'm still not sure that's what the movie thinks it's doing, even if I think that is what it's doing), I think it needs to present some viewpoint, not cop out by presenting no viewpoint. Fight Club seems to present Tyler as the answer to consumerism and impotent masculinity, and then shows Tyler to be the “bad guy” but doesn’t present him as being wrong necessarily. It just “kills” him and Marla and the Narrator watch as they are powerless to stop the destruction that Tyler has caused. End of movie. What?

I think that people need an outlet for their emotions. Could be an artistic outlet, it could be a therapist or even just a close friend that you are able to be truthful and vulnerable with. I'm not sure if my issue with the movie has always been that it seems to present violence as the only outlet, or that it then seems to undercut it in the end, leaving no real statement being made. It's almost like it tries to have it both ways, and people don't seem to realize that it is not actually saying much in the end, is it? Am I being too hard on it? It's trying to say something about consumerism, about needing a balance of Id and Superego, about violent tendencies, but what is the movie itself ultimately saying about those things? There are a lot of think pieces we could write inspired by what the movie brings up in us, and maybe that's the point, but what is the movie itself actually saying about any of it?

Now, I don’t think a movie has to say anything. Movies don't necessarily have to have deep themes that they explore in some way. There doesn't necessarily have to be some philosophy behind a movie. But I guess if a movie like this comes along with a protagonist looking for answers, has a character who appears to have all the answers that the protagonist is looking for, only to be shown to be fraudulent as far as answers go, ultimately leaving the protagonist in seemingly not too different a place as he started the movie, outside of the experiences of the movie, I feel like it should make a statement on what it actually believes. Fight Club doesn't do that, because it doesn’t seem to outwardly believe anything. I agree with others about the satirical aspect of the movie. I don’t think the movie is actually advocating violence even though that has been the overwhelming takeaway for most people from the movie. But if not that then what? It doesn’t then advocate anything else. A different way of thinking, different ideas. It just has that cop out ending and asks us to be satisfied by that.

Director's Spotlight: The Coen Brothers


They are one (two) of my favorite filmmakers, and their work just gets better and better every time I watch it. Even their lesser movie are worth re-watches. They are masterful visual filmmakers, but never to a distracting level, I don’t think. The visuals are always perfectly suited to the story they’re telling. Their odd, dark yet ridiculous and sometimes even juvenile sense of humor is certainly an acquired taste, but I generally love it. Each one of their movies has big laughs in it, and I think one of the few things they don’t typically have is an emotionality to their work. But even with that, there are scenes in No Country for Old Men and Miller’s Crossing that can bring tears to my eyes. When I made my list of top directors a couple years ago I put them as #9, and I think that's a little low now.

They skip across genres like the western, broad slapstick comedy, noir, musical, and often just blend them all up into one. But even working across all of those genres, each and every one of their movies feels and looks like a Coen Brothers movie. There's never any doubt about that. They are singular filmmakers, despite there being two of them.

  1. No Country For Old Men – 10/10
  2. The Big Lebowski – 10/10
  3. Miller's Crossing – 10/10
  4. Raising Arizona – 9/10
  5. Blood Simple – 9/10
  6. A Serious Man – 9/10
  7. True Grit – 9/10
  8. Fargo – 8/10
  9. O Brother, Where Art Thou? – 8/10
  10. The Man Who Wasn't There – 7/10
  11. Inside Llewyn Davis – 7/10
  12. Barton Fink – 6/10

Wednesday, September 26, 2018

Does authorial intent matter?

I got into a discussion about this subject recently with my brother. I was saying that if you just listen to the music, there's not a ton of difference between something like Miles Davis's Bitches Brew and H. Jon Benjamin's Well I Should Have Learned How to Play Piano album. Miles made his record as a serious exploration of jazz modes and whatnot, while Benjamin made his as a joke, surrounding himself with real musicians while he himself took lead playing piano despite not knowing how to play piano. I contended that there's not much difference, as a listener, if you didn't know the artists intent. My brother said that the intent is what colors everything and is super important to know what the artist was trying to say.

So I bring this discussion to movies because it's very similar. If David Lynch always keeps his intent a secret to himself about what his surreal, dreamlike movies mean, then that can mean that whatever meanings we read into it is our own, we create the meaning. Then I would ask: what is the point of the artists vision and intent if I'm the one creating the meaning?

I remember doing a project in high school where we presented song lyrics like poetry and broke them down the way we would break down a poem. One of the other students picked the Goo Goo Dolls song "Iris". They eventually explained the title as meaning that the iris is the center of the eye and the girl in the song is the center of this guys world, bringing the lyric "I don't want the world to see me" as well as the lyrical themes of perception and reality back to the image of the eye. Not a bad interpretation, fits perfectly to be honest, but I'd heard John Rzeznik say that the title Iris had no meaning whatsoever and he just liked the way it sounded. Obviously that doesn't mean that that student's interpretation was "wrong", because it was their own interpretation, but if it wasn't what the artist intended, then what does that mean as far as the connection that the students' interpretation had made in their mind and heart?

I think it's an interesting question and wanted to see what any of youse guys had to say on the subject. We've talked about it before, but it's an important discussion so I think it's okay for it to be brought up again every once in a while. Does the intent of the author of a piece of art matter?

Separating Art from Artist

So, yesterday Bill Cosby was sentenced to 3-10 years in prison for sexual assault. As always when Cosby comes up (or Woody Allen or Roman Polanski or Mel Gibson), the concept of separating art and artist arises in me. Some people do separate and others don't.

I have always felt it to be a little disingenuous for the people who don't separate and condemn others who still consume the art of these kinds of people. I can understand their perspective, that consuming their art is a way of implicitly supporting these people, but I don't agree with it. What about when they're dead and you're not giving money to that person anymore? Does that still count or is it then okay? What about artists that you were ignorant of their unsavory or criminal personal lives? I know that doesn't really apply here because we do know about people like Cosby or Polanski, but I’m saying at what point do you care?

At what point do you start separating art and artist? What constitutes an act worthy of dismissing an artist’s work? When does that start to matter? Can you still listen to The Beatles even though John Lennon beat his first wife? Can you still watch the movies of Charlie Chaplin or look at Pablo Picasso's paintings even though they both had relationships with teenaged girls? What about listening to the music of some of the bands of the 1960's and 70's who had relationships with groupies that were sometimes as young as 14 or 15 (Ted Nugent even became the legal guardian of a 17-year-old so that he could marry her)? Can you read Lord of the Flies, whose author William Golding admitted, in an unpublished memoir, to attempted rape? What about anything by William S. Burroughs, who drunkenly (though accidentally) murdered his wife? Catcher in the Rye or other JD Salinger works, when Salinger is another guy who loved teenaged girls (once dating a 14 year old when he was 30)? Norman Mailer, who stabbed his wife twice in the chest? What about HP Lovecraft’s racism? What about Charles Dickens cheating on his wife with a teenager? Virginia Woolf, Ezra Pound, Patricia Highsmith and many other writers anti-Semitism? Where does it stop? Where does an artist’s personal life start to matter?

I think these are the questions that matter in this discussion because if you are inextricably linking art and artist, you goddamn better make sure that you know everything possible about every artist you enjoy and that they pass your moral judgment test. Good luck with that, by the way.

My ultimate point is that although an artist certainly puts themselves into their art, their art is not themselves. The art stands on its own. Unless Woody Allen makes a movie about how it's okay to start a relationship with your wife's teenaged adopted daughter, I will continue watching his movies when I feel like it. I will still read Patricia Highsmith’s Ripley novels despite her reported anti-Semitism because the book itself isn’t supporting anti-Semitism. That doesn’t mean that I support anti-Semitism. It means I like a good book. I can separate the book from where or who it came from. I don’t see any reason to not separate the two. What about you?

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Director's Spotlight: Steven Spielberg






I think Scorsese, and maybe Hitchcock, is the only filmmaker I've seen more films from than Spielberg. I'm a huge fan, and even listed him as my #6 filmmaker of all time. That's when I wrote this, which I'll just repost as my thoughts here:

Spielberg is one of the few directors pretty much everyone knows by name. That's not always a good thing, since appealing to the masses generally takes a certain blandness to play to everyone. But Spielberg is as much an auteur as any other director. You see the recurring themes of broken families and the resulting stress that occurs, regular people in extraordinary circumstances, or even his ability to induce awe in us. Whether it's the Mother Ship in Close Encounters, multiple moments in Jurassic Park, or E.T. and Elliot flying across the full moon.

Spielberg has probably given us more iconic moments in the pop culture collective consciousness than anyone. And on top of all of that, he's also a great storyteller. Sometimes his movies are too long, but he still generally makes them pop narratively in a wonderful way. He might be the most popular director ever, but that's no reason to be snobby and not include him on a list like this, he's popular with me too.

As for rating and ranking his movies, that'd look something like this:
  1. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) - 10/10
  2. Munich (2005) - 10/10
  3. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) - 10/10
  4. Schindler's List (1993) - 10/10
  5. Jaws (1975) - 10/10
  6. Jurassic Park (1993) - 9/10
  7. Saving Private Ryan (1998) - 9/10
  8. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) - 9/10
  9. The Color Purple (1985) - 8/10
  10. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) - 8/10
  11. Minority Report (2002) - 8/10
  12. Duel (1971) - 8/10
  13. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) - 8/10
  14. Catch Me If You Can (2002) - 8/10
  15. The Adventures of Tintin (2011) - 8/10
  16. War of the Worlds (2005) - 7/10
  17. Empire of the Sun (1987) - 7/10
  18. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984) - 6/10
  19. The Sugarland Express (1974) - 6/10
  20. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008) - 6/10
  21. The Terminal (2004) - 6/10
  22. Always (1989) - 5/10
  23. The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997) - 4/10
  24. 1941 (1979) - 4/10
  25. Hook (1991) - 3/10

Friday, September 21, 2018

Once


As a musician, I've never really been able to articulate to people the sort of psychic connection that musicians have with one another when we really click. It's almost like you've found your soul mate, like they understand everything about you, even if you've just met and they don't really know anything about your life. Well, writer/director John Carney's film Once taps into that energy, shows that connection, and at least documents the high that you get from creating music. I wasn't sure if non-musicians would understand the subtext of much of the movie, but most of the people I've talked to over the years do seem to understand, and they love it. Music is universal, but musicals are notoriously un-loved by many people (myself included, with few exceptions). Once, however, is at least 2/3rd's music, and although not universally loved (because no movie is), it has certainly made a connection with many people.

Glen Hansard is the leader of a hugely influential rock band in Ireland called The Frames. They are one of the great bands of the past couple of decades, but for some reason never made it big in the US. John Carney began as the bass player for The Frames in the early 90's but slowly gravitated away into filmmaking. But when he got an idea to do a movie told mostly through music, he wanted his old bandmate Glen to write the music for it. The story was a kind of mashup of Carney and Hansard’s lives. It would be about a busker who falls in love with an Eastern European immigrant in Dublin. It was to be a simple tale, carried by Glen’s music.

Irish star Cillian Murphy was supposed to play the lead. He’d worked with Carney on multiple projects before, and was a musician prior to becoming an actor. He was also coming off of playing main villain The Scarecrow in Batman Begins, but walked away after hearing Glen’s music, which he wouldn’t be able to sing or do justice to. Losing a star meant that Carney wouldn't be able to get the kind of funding he would've previously been able to get. Instead of dwelling on this, Carney turned it into a positive. This meant that he could make his movie for basically no money, which meant no interference from a studio. He also re-evaluated his leading man, thinking it might be better to get a great singer who could half act, rather than a great actor who could half sing. He turned to Glen, who initially refused. Glen said he was a musician not an actor. After doing a screen test, thankfully Glen reconsidered and agreed to do the movie. Playing the female lead opposite Glen would be his good friend, and recent musical collaborator, Marketa Irglova, a young Czech pianist/singer whom Glen had met a few years previously. Marketa added her haunting voice and piano to Glen's songs and they became the backbone of Once.


The movie was ultimately made for very little money (just over $150,000) and looks like it. The visual quality of the film makes it clear that it was shot on cheap cameras, with natural lighting, and shot very quickly. This would be a hindrance to some movies, but actually works here in a sort of underdog way, giving a handmade quality to things as well. These characters are low budget, it makes sense that the movie is as well.

Glen's character (unnamed, but credited as The Guy) lives in a working class section of Dublin, splitting his time between working in his dad's vacuum repair shop and being a street musician. Marketa's character (The Girl, or "herself" as Glen tends to refer to her) splits her time between being a maid, and being a street vendor (roses, magazines, whatever). They meet one night as Glen is playing his heartbreaking songs to no audience, he tells her he plays his own songs at night because people only want to hear things that they already know during the day, and that's how he makes money. She likes his songs, and he soon finds out that she plays piano. She takes him to a music shop where the owner lets her practice for an hour every day at lunch (she doesn't have a piano at home because they're too expensive). This scene has become famous as the two work through a song he’s just started writing called “Falling Slowly”. She adds harmony and piano and the song ended up winning an Oscar.



As a musician every one of the musical sequences rings true, probably because the movie is about musicians, so it's not like the characters are just randomly breaking out into song. You don’t need that suspension of disbelief that comes with a standard Hollywood musical. They're simply playing their songs the way that musicians do.

Before long these two are trying to put a band together, collaborating on music, and eventually recording in a small studio. They also may be falling in love. It’s an odd connection that musicians have sometimes. It’s intimate. You’re sharing something from your soul with someone else who is sharing from their soul. It’s not hard to see why there are so many in-band relationships in the history of pop music. In fact, for a time after this movie came out, Glen and Marketa became a couple. They toured with their band that they called The Swell Season. They even appeared in an episode of The Simpsons as their characters from Once, in an episode where the Simpsons go to Ireland.



There's the possibility here in the movie that their relationship could lead to a romance as well but, despite some of the embarrassingly photoshopped promotional posters showing them holding hands, it doesn't. She’s married and he’s still hung up on his previous girlfriend. And the movie is better off for it, because that would've been the first demand from a studio,” the guy and the girl must fall in love”. Well, actually they still do, but not in a traditional movie sense. There's no doubt in my mind that these two characters love each other possibly more than they'll ever love anyone else, but they don't act on it. Not that they don't want to (her million-watt smile and his puppy dog eyes tell a great untold story), but it just isn't in the cards for them.

Once has more heart and soul poured into it than most movies you'll ever see. It's a heartbreaking romance, a beautiful musical, and a deeply felt portrait of two lonely people finding each other in the world and making some terrific art out of it. It was adapted into a Tony award winning Broadway musical in 2011. And John Carney has gone on to make other music movies, including the terrific Begin Again in 2013 with Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo, and 2016’s Sing Street, which I wrote about here in my September column last year. If you haven’t seen this Hidden Gem, please do yourself a favor and seek it out.

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Director's Spotlight: Stanley Kubrick





One of the most acclaimed and deified filmmakers who ever lived, Stanley Kubrick is certainly one of the most distinct voices in cinema history. Personally, however, his work doesn't tend to connect with me. He's been called "cold" and "emotionless" by his detractors over the years. His fans often point to the end scene of Paths of Glory, which is an incredibly affecting and emotional scene, as proof that that criticism is bullshit. I defy those fans to give me another moment of emotion in a Kubrick movie and they often can't do it. Now, I could give them a couple of emotional moments in Kubrick's oeuvre, but I don't and it's a fun game to play with them. Regardless, I don't think the cold, calculating criticism of Kubrick is out of line. I don't think it inhabits every inch of his work, but it's not off base.


I'm also not a huge fan of Kubrick's sense of humor. Outside of some of the extraordinary work from Peter Sellers and George C. Scott in the War Room of Dr. Strangelove, I don't actually think I've ever laughed while watching a Kubrick movie. It's not that Kubrick didn't have a sense of humor, he did, but it's just not one that lined up with my own tastes, I suppose. I'm also not a fan of his social commentary, because I don't think it was as smart as his fans will tell you it is. You can sum up A Clockwork Orange, for example, in a single sentence ("We all deserve the free will to make our own choices, even if those choices are evil.") and yet the movie is 2.5 hours long.


So what do I like about Kubrick's work? The first thing that comes to mind is his impeccable framing of shots. It's not surprising since he started out as a photographer, but whether it's the opening of A Clockwork Orange, the trench shots in Paths of Glory, the majority of 2001, or even the painterly frames of Barry Lyndon (that the movie doesn't have much to offer outside of its beauty is a separate issue), Kubrick knew how to put beautiful or interesting things in front of us in the audience. And sometimes, as in the case of 2001 (which is in my top 10 movies, I might add) he tells the story in a way that eventually reaches transcendence. So even though I mostly find him much like Paul Thomas Anderson in that he's an obviously talented filmmaker who simply doesn't put it all together into a great whole, when he did put it all together, watch out because it's astounding work.


  1. 2001: A Space Odyssey - 10/10
  2. Paths of Glory - 9.5/10
  3. The Shining - 9/10
  4. Barry Lyndon - 6/10
  5. Eyes Wide Shut - 6/10
  6. Full Metal Jacket - 5/10
  7. Spartacus - 5/10
  8. The Killing - 4/10
  9. Dr. Strangelove - 3/10
  10. A Clockwork Orange - 3/10

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Director's Spotlight: Martin Scorsese






Second only to Kurosawa on my list of favorite filmmakers, and really it’s 1 and 1a, I think Scorsese is by far the best filmmaker still working. He’s doing great work at the age of 75. I take for granted that every movie could be his last. He gets some of the consistently best work from his actors of any filmmaker I can think of, and each of his movies is oozing with style, passion, character, and beauty of many different kinds. He’s crossed so many genres, but every movie he’s made is a “Martin Scorsese movie” without a doubt (well, except maybe Michael Jackson's Bad, there’s not a ton of distinctly Scorsese feel to that, understandably), even when they’re not repeating each other.

Like what’s in The Aviator that is in his other movies, stylistically? There's nothing that ties The Aviator into Goodfellas or The Last Waltz from a style or thematic perspective. Yet they're all still masterpieces and feel very "Scorsese" to me. The Aviator probably has the most in common with Hugo, as both are kind of tributes to movies themselves. The Aviator is stylized and colored in the same way that movies back then were, which is why Howard Hughes's peas look blue on screen. Hugo, of course, is a tribute to Georges Melies, one of the godfathers of modern cinema, but it's also about the joy of creation as well. And that's always present in Scorsese's work.

Obviously, there's also that Scorsese is the most Catholic of filmmakers, obsessed with themes of guilt, absolution, sin, and redemption. Silence is his theological masterpiece in my eyes, even more so than Last Temptation of Christ. The thing ultimately becomes with Scorsese that all of his movies are worth watching, even the ones I'm not as crazy about as the others. He's a master filmmaker, the best we have working today, and I like bringing some extra attention his way, even if he's not hurting for accolades.



So anyway, my ratings/rankings would look something like:
  1. Taxi Driver – 10/10
  2. Goodfellas – 10/10
  3. The Aviator – 10/10
  4. Silence - 10/10
  5. Raging Bull – 10/10
  6. The Last Waltz – 10/10
  7. Hugo – 10/10
  8. Bringing Out the Dead – 9/10
  9. The Departed – 9/10
  10. A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies – 9/10
  11. Gangs of New York – 9/10
  12. Shutter Island – 9/10
  13. Mean Streets – 9/10
  14. Casino – 9/10
  15. The Last Temptation of Christ – 8/10
  16. The Wolf of Wall Street – 8/10
  17. The Age of Innocence – 8/10
  18. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore – 8/10
  19. No Direction Home: Bob Dylan – 8/10
  20. Shine a Light – 8/10
  21. Who’s That Knocking at My Door? – 7/10
  22. After Hours – 7/10
  23. Cape Fear – 7/10
  24. Kundun – 7/10
  25. The Color of Money – 6/10
  26. Michael Jackson’s Bad short film – 6/10
  27. Boxcar Bertha – 6/10
  28. The King of Comedy – 4/10
  29. The Audition (short) – 4/10

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Actor's Spotlight: Jack Nicholson


 
Jaaaaack. One of the most famous and parodied actors in history, he became such a well known public character that he became a caricature. But we shouldn't forget that he was once one of the great actors in the world. From his early days with Roger Corman all the way back in 1958, to his time as a three time Oscar winner (one in the 70's, one in the 80's and one in the 90's), Jack usually delivered great work, even up until 2001's The Pledge and even parts of 2006's The Departed.
He hasn't made a movie since 2010's How Do You Know, but he'd only made 6 movies since the turn of the century. And maybe now at the age of 81 he isn't gonna be making any more movies anyway. Regardless, let's appreciate what he's given us in his career. For his best work, I'd have a hard time choosing between Chinatown, The Last Detail, and The Pledge.

What are your thoughts on the career of Jack Nicholson?

My ratings of his movies:
  1. Chinatown - 10/10
  2. The Shining - 9/10
  3. The Departed - 9/10
  4. The Last Detail - 9/10
  5. The Pledge - 9/10
  6. Five Easy Pieces - 8/10
  7. A Few Good Men - 8/10
  8. One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest - 8/10
  9. As Good as It Gets - 7/10
  10. The King of Marvin Gardens - 7/10
  11. Blood and Wine - 7/10
  12. Carnal Knowledge - 7/10
  13. About Schmidt - 6/10
  14. Easy Rider - 6/10
  15. The Witches of Eastwick - 6/10
  16. Something's Gotta Give - 6/10
  17. Mars Attacks! - 4/10
  18. Anger Management - 4/10
  19. Batman - 3/10
  20. Tommy - 3/10
Some supposedly great movies in there that I'm missing and want to get to, like Reds, Terms of Endearment, and Prizzi's Honor.