I’ve mentioned to many acquaintances my distaste for Roger Ebert’s binary thumb system of film reviewing, and I often tend to have a knee-jerk reaction against his overall film ratings. On the other hand, his criticism (rather than his reviewing) is highly sound, readable, and I wish he’d do more of it.
Just to be clear, reviewing is the week-to-week activity of watching and recommending (or not recommending) films, especially new releases, to audiences that haven’t yet seen the films. It’s intended to tell you whether or not you should go see a given film, whether a film is good or bad. Criticism is more indepth analysis of a film intended to help those who have already seen a film to better understand or appreciate it (or not). Criticism is not inherently negative; in fact, it’s often not evaluative at all. Rather, it’s analytical.
On his blog, Ebert recently posted an article entitled “How to Read a Movie”, in which he gives a few basics of visual composition, explaining how he goes through a film with his students shot by shot. This is criticism, and I’m always thankful when he writes something like this. It reminds me that there’s so much more to him than thumbs.
He talks about how we instinctively understand the way shots are laid out and blocked (people moving to the left feels negative, while people moving to the right seems positive – as I read this, I happened to be watching 12 Angry Men and noted that when the jurors leave the courtroom to deliver their “not guilty” verdict, they’re walking, yes, to the right), then gives an example from Hitchcock’s Notorious. This is right when spy Cary Grant learns that he’s basically condemned Ingrid Bergman to sleep with the enemy for the sake of gathering intelligence, and that she’s willing to do it.
In the Rio office of U.S. intelligence, Grant’s chief is positioned on the strong axis. Grant enters and talks to him, standing on the right (positive). Bergman enters, and begins to discuss her relationship with Rains [the enemy]. As she speaks, Grant walks to the left of the composition. She continues. He turns his back to us. We all instinctively read this as negative/rejecting/angry. Bergman goes into still more detail. Grant walks into the background. Wow. Now the picture has the intelligence chief as the stable presence on the strong axis, Bergman in the positive right foreground, Grant in the negative left background, and the “movement” from right front to left back, underlining the central emotional reality of the film, which will inform all of Grant’s behavior.
These are things that we as viewers subconsciously “get”, but having someone go through a scene like this and explain why we have the reactions we do (or at least, what within the shot triggers the reactions we have; I suppose it would take a psychologist to take the next step – a direction some film criticism has gone) is invaluable. In my experience with Ebert (to be honest, I rarely read his current reviews all the way through, in large part because I simply don’t like reviews as much as criticism), he tends to do this more in writing about older film, probably because of the seen/haven’t seen dilemma – it’s difficult to do quality criticism if you’re worried about spoiling the film for an audience that hasn’t seen it yet. His The Great Movies books are excellent, as are several of his articles about criticism collected in Alone in the Dark. I just wish his popular legacy could be those rather than his thumbs.
(Read the rest of the post and comments as well; I only quoted a bit, and it’ll make more sense in context. If the general topic is interesting, David Bordwell has written a number of good books on visual style and cinematic staging, and James Monaco’s How to Read a Film is a touchstone.)
David Bordwell is always worth reading, but he put up a post a couple of weeks ago that’s highly entertaining as well as informative, about the way cinephiles interact with each other. He starts off separating cinephiles from cinemaniacs – based on his definitions, I’m not sure which category I fit into. I’m going to claim cinephilia, though, because I like this:
Cinephiles by contrast [to cinemaniacs, who he says have very specific areas they like] tend to be ecumenical. Indeed, many take pride in the intergalactic breadth of their tastes. Look at any smart critic’s ten-best lists. You’ll usually see an eclectic mix of arthouse, pop, and experimental, including one or two titles you have never heard of. Obscurity is important; a cinephile is a connoisseur.
The real crux, I think, is this. The cinephile loves the idea of film.
That means loving not only its accomplishments but its potential, its promise and prospects. It’s as if individual films, delectable and overpowering as they can be, are but glimpses of something far grander.
He goes on to give examples of the ways cinephiles one-up each other by claiming great breadth or depth of knowledge, and that’s where the humorous part is. I’ve engaged in my small way in most of the forms of cinephile oneupsmanship he highlights, though not anywhere near the level Bordwell can. I think, though, that while there’s usually an element of competition in it, there’s also simply a need to know where you stand with the other cinephile. Everyone can’t be an expert on everything, even in film’s short history, and in any conversation, one person is going to win in some areas, but not in others, and it’s useful to know what those areas are. I struck up a conversation with my couch-mate at Shirley Clarke’s The Cool World a few weeks ago (yep, LA’s Silent Movie Theatre has couches, if you get there early enough to snag one), and she easily beat me out on 1960s American indie film, like The Cool World, but I had her on New Wave films, which came up as we discussed the previous week’s film, Agnes Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7. The game was played, we won and lost, but we knew where we stood, and we started to get an idea of what could be reasonably asked or discussed with the other person.
At least in such circumstances (a screening of a rare film at a repertory theatre), one knows where to start. I have much more difficulty trying to figure out what to answer the general populace when someone finds out I’m into movies and asks me what my favorite movie is. I used to have rote answers, but that was ten years ago, and they’re hopelessly out of date. I think I need to pick a few favorites with differing levels of obscurity. My worst moment was at a church function a few weeks ago, when I went as mainstream and as current as I could and still be honest, and said No Country for Old Men. She hadn’t heard of it. Best Picture Oscar winner, hadn’t heard of it. I couldn’t speak for several minutes. I get that not everyone is into film, and that’s fine, but why ask me about it, then? I can talk about other things, I swear.
Note for non-cinephile readers: the stills and names Bordwell uses in his examples are from François Truffaut’s Jules et Jim; the “Catherine” he mentions at the end is the woman who comes between the eponymous best friends.
Leaving New York for London with Match Point revitalized Woody Allen‘s career in 2005; now he picks up shop again, this time seeking inspiration in Spain. And again, the move does him good, as Vicky Cristina Barcelona evokes, though perhaps does not quite equal, his greatest triumphs. Best friends Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) head to Barcelona for a couple of months of study and adventure. Vicky, solidly sure of herself and preparing to marry stably but not imaginatively, plans to finish her thesis on Catalan Identity while Cristina, intense and impulsive, seeks new experiences and passions without really knowing what, if anything, would satisfy her.
Let me get my few negatives out of the way first. Juan Antonio is a dog – he propositions everybody within five minutes of talking to them. Once he’s in a steady relationship, he’s a great guy, but I wish Allen had come up with a better way to say “hey, this guy is passionate” than having him try to get everyone into bed immediately.Patricia Clarkson is wasted in her role of an older woman unsatisfied in her stable marriage whose job basically is to try to get Vicky to leave her fiance Doug (Chris Messina) to pursue Juan Antonio. And the ending leaves us not very much different from the beginning, unsure how the Barcelona experience has changed our characters. I’m not wholly inclined to see the last thing as a negative, though. Often such experiences don’t immediately make their effects known, and leaving it to each audience member to decide how Vicky, Cristina, Juan Antonio, Maria Elena, and Doug will ultimately be affected may be a shrewd move on Woody’s part. And nitpicky thing – hold the dang camera still! There’s barely a shot that isn’t panning or pushing or pulling or tracking. This complaint was perhaps intensified by my recent reading of David Bordwell‘s The Way Hollywood Tells It, which talks a lot about the growing use of the “roving camera,” which made me notice it a lot more than I probably otherwise would’ve.
Okay, back to the good parts. Woody’s most solid script in years balances drama and comedy very well, keeping away from extremes of silliness (cf. Scoop or Broadway Danny Rose) and seriousness (cf. Match Point or Interiors). That’s not to say he doesn’t do the extremes well, but I tend to find him most enjoyable and memorable when he does dramatic stories tinged with wit throughout, as in my favorites, Manhattan and Hannah and Her Sisters. While I wouldn’t raise Vicky Cristina Barcelona to those dizzying heights, it’s back on track.
Finally, a word about the relationships, which all end up better in threes than twos – couples needing a third person to balance out. This goes to extremes with Cristina, Juan Antonio and Maria Elena, but the same concept appears with Juan Antonio-Cristina-Vicky, Cristina-Vicky-Doug, abortively with Maria Elena-Juan Antonio-Vicky, and even perhaps with the titular Vicky-Cristina-Barcelona. At one level, the threesome activity seems like Woody’s own fantasies playing out (admittedly, in a rather tame fashion – there’s a lot of sex going on in this PG-13 film, but it’s pretty much all offscreen and termed “going to bed together”). But the shifting relationship triangle is not an uncommon literary device, particularly noticable in Alice Walker’s The Color Purple, in which virtually all the relationships form shifting triangles. I’m not sure how far to take Allen’s use of the theme, but the idea seems to be that each person needs two people in their lives – one more passionate/emotional and one more stable/rational than themselves. But the film expounds no such obvious message, which is a plus for me.
Juan Antonio’s father is a poet who refuses to publish his work as a way of getting back at a world he doesn’t like – denying the world the things of beauty he creates. It’s impossible to apply that maxim to Allen, who has compulsively shared his work, beautiful and not, with the world nearly every year since 1972. The good is well worth putting up with the less-good, and hopefully Vicky Cristina Barcelona is a sign of more future beautifully-made films from him. Also, Barcelona? Gorgeous. I want to go now.
I’m being arbitrary once again with my definition of “independent.” In this category, I’m going to include a) indie or non-mainstream films that are not new releases, like the first two films below, and b) new release films that are truly small films, i.e., did not get a lot of studio publicity and a wide release, and probably were not financed by a major studio, even their speciality arms. I don’t always know about the financing side, though, so I don’t want to use that as an absolute standard, even though it should be. Basically, this means that films like Juno or No Country for Old Men would appear in the New on DVD category rather than here. When in doubt, my logic goes “if a moviegoer who only goes to multiplexes knows about the film, it doesn’t go in the independent category.” I want to use it to highlight lesser-known films.
When I start writing on a film-by-film basis, Indie Cinema and World Cinema will be separate categories; I just threw them together here because there weren’t too many of either one.
Kicking and Screaming NOT the Will Ferrell soccer movie. :) No, this is an early film from the guy who did The Squid and the Whale, one of my favorite movies from a couple of years ago. And this one is similarly excellent, though with much less plot. Basically take Slacker, throw in some Metropolitan, and then maybe a dash of Wes Anderson. The nominal plot follows a group of recent college graduates trying to figure out what to do next with their lives (a concept that hit very close to home among our group of grad students; after all, why else were we getting graduate degrees in English if not because we were unable to figure out what to do after college?). The story falls off a bit toward the end, but the characters are so identifiable and the script so outstanding that it comes very close to Richard Linklater’s best, which is a high compliment from me. Also, the cover of the Criterion edition is quite possibly the most awesome DVD cover ever, so I’m using it in lieu of the poster. Click on it to see it bigger and read the quotes, which are good in context, but perhaps even better out of context. ;)
Well Above Average USA 1995; dir: Noah Baumbach; starring: Chris Eigeman, Samuel Gould, Olivia d’Abo IMDb | The Frame
Dazed and Confused My experience with other Linklater films had me anticipating this one to a possibly unhealthy degree, and it didn’t live up to my expectations. I think he does better with college and later than with high school, because Dazed and Confused was all right, but not great. Basically it follows a couple of freshmen as they try to survive the hazing given them by the older students and ingratiate themselves into the booze-and-drug ridden high school world. Yay! *eyeroll* It’s not that that story couldn’t work, it’s just that it doesn’t – it doesn’t go anywhere, and in a much less satisfying way than the way, say, Slacker didn’t go anywhere. I think because it felt like it was meant to go somewhere, whereas Slacker fit the meandering style much better. Plus, any movie wherein Matthew McConaughey (who I usually can’t stand) is the most entertaining part? Yeah. Average USA 1993; dir: Richard Linklater; starring: Jason London, Rory Cochrane, Wiley Wiggins IMDb | The Frame
Wristcutters: A Love Story While the opening credits run, Patrick Fugit (Almost Famous)slits his wrists. Soon he finds himself in a limbo-esque place, full of other suicides who all go about relatively normal lives – working dead-end (no pun intended) jobs and wandering around aimlessly. It sort of reminded me of C.S. Lewis’s hell in The Great Divorce; just a dismal, grey place characterized more by depression and boredom than pain. Anyway, Shannyn Sossamon shows up one day, claiming that she’s not supposed to be there because she didn’t commit suicide. She snags Fugit and another friend and they start seeking whoever runs the place to fix the apparent administrative mix-up. Oh, and they’re also looking for Fugit’s ex-girlfriend, who committed suicide a few weeks after he did. I could go on with the plot; there’s a commune at one point, and a guy with Jesus delusions (played by the guy who played Gob on Arrested Development; I have such a hard time disassociating him with that role enough to see him in anything else), etc. Even though the story gets fairly unbelievable at times, even for a film that’s about suicide-limbo, it remains quirkily engaging.
Above Average USA 2006; dir: Goran Dukic; starring: Patrick Fugit, Shannyn Sossamon, Will Arnett IMDb | The Frame
Hannah Takes the Stairs I’m not wholly against considering films like Little Miss Sunshine and Juno as indie films, despite the fact that they had financing from specialty divisions of major studios and clearly straddle the line between mainstream and indie, but sometimes I’m tempted to just point at films like Hannah Takes the Stairs and say “Now THIS is an independent film.” Swanberg, Gerwig, and a group of other filmmakers including Ronald and Mary Bronstein, Mark and Jay Duplass (whose Baghead is in limited release now), and Andrew Bujalsi have made a number of films at this point loosely grouped together by critics under the name “Mumblecore.” Hannah got wider distribution than most of the others, but still was hardly seen outside of New York, Los Angeles, and Austin. Following a largely improvised script, Hannah is a twenty-something struggling through a failing relationship with her boyfriend and the possibility of relationships with two of her coworkers. There isn’t much more plot to mention, and the film comes under perhaps deserved criticism for its lack of development and the frustrating uncertainty of its heroine. On the other hand, there’s a rawness here that feels more real than most films, a rawness that gets polished away by the mainstream, a rawness I found quite refreshing. I certainly wouldn’t say that all films should be more like Hannah, but I think it’s important that there’s a space in the filmmaking/distribution world for these willfully non-mainstream films that push the envelope by refusing to play by the rules.
Above Average USA 2007; dir: Joe Swanberg; starring: Greta Gerwig, Mark Duplass, Andrew Bujalski IMDb | The Frame
The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Fabulous. But then, you pretty much have to call any half-way decent film about three drag queens driving a bus (the eponymous Priscilla) through the Australian outback in outlandish costumes (and sometimes lipsynching to opera while sitting in an enormous shoe strapped on top of the bus) fabulous. Hugo Weaving is the one with the secret former marriage and son, Terence Stamp the aging one who tends to be somewhat bitter but can also be the consummate lady, and Guy Pearce is the flamboyant youth. As they move through the Outback toward their next proposed gig as lipsynching dancers, they run into mechanical difficulties, bigotry, and interpersonal conflicts. Ultimately, though, it’s a fun journey, at least for the audience if not necessarily for the three guys. Let me just say, though, that Hugo Weaving makes one ugly woman. Also interesting to see Guy Pearce before his big Hollywood roles – as my Australian friend Anna pointed out, I wonder who saw this film and thought, “you know what, I bet he’d be perfect for that straight-laced cop in L.A. Confidential!”
Above Average Australia 1994; dir: Stephan Elliott; starring: Hugo Weaving, Terence Stamp, Guy Pearce IMDb | The Frame
Kwaidan I’m working on my appreciation for Japanese film. I’m getting there with anime, especially Miyazaki, but even Kurosawa I often don’t connect to on the level I would like. My friend Kat suggested I try Kwaidan, since she feels roughly the same way and now places Kwaidan among her all-time favorite films. Unfortunately, I don’t know whether it’s because I watched it during a time of moving stress or what, but it didn’t have the same effect on me. Basically, it’s a collection of unrelated ghost stories, none of which are particularly scary. Or memorable, to me. Well, there was one I quite liked, about a blind monk who gets drawn away from the monastery at night to recite poems to a mystical court which only he can see. Honestly, most of the others I don’t remember. Given my level of distraction, though, I’ll put it on the rewatch list. Average Japan 1966; dir: Masaki Kobayashi; starring: Katsuo Nakamura, Rentaro Mikuni, Tatsuyo Nakadai IMDb | The Frame
