Getting Intimate - Rachel Getting Married

Rachel Getting Married would like to amend the age-old saying: "Fish and family stink after 3 days." This film posits that it doesn't take that long - only a few minutes.

Jonathan Demme's latest release Rachel Getting Married, is an unexpected visual onslaught. Featuring a hand held camera, Demme's film is rarely stationary. Even if a conversation uses a shot-reverse-shot pattern, Demme uses different angles.

All of this makes viewing Rachel an uneasy experience. A seemingly banal and innocent conversation might erupt into a violent verbal exchange. No remark too insulting. No topic too taboo. At times, the camera may linger instead of an obvious cut to the speaker, allowing a real-time display of a character's reactions. In short, Demme and his DP, Declan Quinn a visually arresting character drama. Normally in a character study, the camera lets the characters tell the story, but not here.

Most striking is the proximity of the camera. A good portion of the film frames the face or the head. Initially, unsettling, the cinematography supports the intimacy of the film. The audience feels close to the characters - so close that we can see a twitching eye, and even the slightest frown. Rachel Getting Married does not allow its characters the freedom to hide within the frame. We know how a character feels, even with their best attempts at hiding it beneath a smile.

Adjusting to a differing family dynamic is difficult. Think of a family as an automobile and whenever a new family member enters the mix, the car rocks a little bit. In this family, the new family member is Kym (an overrated, but still effective Anne Hathaway), a recovering drug and alcohol addict. She's lost her chance at a first impression. She has to earn the respect (and love) from her family. Kym believes that her family should be more supportive, but we understand their trepidation given her history. This family has to learn how to function with its additional member. Likewise, Kym must adjust to her new social dynamic.

Everyone wants to feel like a part of the family. Rachel Getting Married forces us into this role and it's hard when you have no influence. All we can do is feel the highs and lows of a dynamic and diverse family.

The West Wing Restrospective - Exceptional Writing!

Remember when NBC had "Law and Order", "Friends", AND "The West Wing?" Feels like a long time ago doesn't it? "Law and Order" is still around, but "Friends" and "The West Wing" have ended their run.

I watched three episodes of "The West Wing" yesterday and I was reminded of one of the greatest television pleasures - exceptional writing. Two of writer Aaron Sorkin's television series were cancelled quickly ("Sports Night", and "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip"), but "The West Wing" had success for a long time. "The West Wing" won four - FOUR! - Emmys for best drama! (All this coming in the years of the HBO juggernaut "The Sopranos.") Not only did they win those four Emmys, but they won them in CONSECUTIVE years! Only "Hill Street Blues" can claim that kind of success.

"The West Wing" was nominated for Best Drama every year it was on - even in the days when Aaron Sorkin left to create "Studio 60." Sorkin is master of the "walk and talk." He is more notorious for it than praised. Does it create unnecessary and complicated camera work, or does it raise the tension? I think the latter and its probably an accurate demonstration of what happens in the most famous office in the world. Most of the walking and talking occurs while characters deliver paperwork. I would imagine that's probably a lot of what happens around the oval office - paperwork.

The series is also surprisingly funny - but not in a laugh out loud way. It's more like a chuckle. When was the last time you laughed during one of the most respected dramas in history? Sorkin treats the president's offices just like any other office, one where e-mail slows to a hault, and desk chairs have squeaky wheels. But the writers always remember the weight of a show about the president of the United States. A series with this premise can be as topical as it wants. It's not like watching "Mad Men", where you feel overwhelmed by the tension. Obviously, "Mad Men" makes it work (because I like it!), but "The West Wing" is so refreshing because it manages to do both.

The other thing a well-crafted series needs is a balance between good writing and actors who deliver them. With a Sorkin show, the pace is so extreme and the lines need precise and quick delivery. The Emmys recognized the actors as well. Allison Janney won multiple Emmys for her turn as Press Secretary C.J. Craig. So too for Bradley Whitford (Josh Lyman), Richard Schiff (Toby Ziegler), and the late John Spencer (Leo McGary). Martin Sheen (President Bartlett) went without an award. But for a show that emphasizes an ensemble cast, I guess it's okay that the president doesn't win an award and his cabinet gets the credit.

Aaron Sorkin might be the stealth bomber of Hollywood. He wrote A Few Good Men (Rob Reiner) - based on his own play - but most people remember the Tom Cruise/Jack Nicholson showdown in the courtroom. More recently, he wrote Charlie Wilson's War (Mike Nichols) and his penchant for blending humor with serious consequences is evident. I love you Entertainment Weekly, but sticking "The West Wing" at #23 of the greatest TV shows of the last 25 years behind shows like "The Real World", "South Park", "Lost", and "Roseanne"...is grounds for impeachment!

Netflix the DVDs and re-discover this classic!

Synecdoche, NY - Unkept Promises

In all fiction projects, an author makes promises to the audience, reader, etc. The protagonist is this kind of a person with a specific personality and unique friends. These are just a few things shape a character. The film, novel, or short story tells us where we are going.

Authors may not give a specific road map. At least we know what kind of a journey is in store. The character has flaws that need confronting or demons that need exorcising. The audience expects that something will engage this character in a specific regard. The author makes promises to the reader and the reader expects them to be fulfilled.

Don't misunderstand. I don't hate twist or surprise endings - they are fun and exciting. But the author must produce them organically. Character and plot progression must feel natural.

For the first two-thirds of Synecdoche, NY writer/director Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) presents characters that I care about. Now, I think I understand the Kaufman aesthetic enough to say that it is a unique experience and that I will need to think through some issues in order to comprehend the narrative. But Synecdoche, NY doesn't fulfill on its promises. In fact, it doesn't even make any.

I understood the plight of the characters and issues that need solving. Kaufman only takes me so far down those roads. The last third of the film is overly complicated and leaves me searching for the cinematic equivalent of "verbose." Synecdoche, NY is verbose. The film is complicated just for the sake of being complicated. Kaufman complicates the narrative to such a degree that the last third of the film could have shown ANYTHING and I would not be surprised. It seemed that anything that happened could be justified through Caden Cotard's (Philip Seymour Hoffman) psychosis. And because his psychosis became convoluted, anything was possible.

Allowing oneself to take a plot in seemingly any direction is lazy filmmaking. The audience feels no satisfaction because Kaufman did not allow the audience to want anything. Synecdoche, NY presents a fork in the road with about a million options - and none of them are the wrong choice. When I say that Kaufman didn't make any promises, I mean that he didn't provide a road map for the film. There is a responsibility of a filmmaker to guide the audience. He did that for the first two thirds of the film but then sabotaged his narrative with Caden's neuroses that allow for any possibility I had no idea what would come next. Synecdoche, NY is lazy filmmaking because if there are no"right" answers, then there are no "wrong" ones either.

Think of the difference between two Tarantino films: Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs. Both feature non-linear narratives, but one narrative grounds itself in a specific moment - meeting up after a jewelry store robbery. Tarantino controls the narrative and answers the questions that we need answered. Who are these people? How did they meet? What happened during the robbery? What events led to the current predicament? Tarantino goes back in time to answer these questions in a restrained way. Pulp Fiction jumps around in narrative purely for the sake of it. This non linear structure does not enlighten the narrative. Reservoir Dogs is a complicated and robust story, but I understand it immediately. Pulp Fiction is only complicated and thus REQUIRES multiple viewings to understand the film. I hold films accountable for this mistake.

An author cannot expect an audience to make the journey twice - just to understand it. WANTING to see a film again and NEEDING to see a film again are two different things. And don't accuse me of "not getting it" either. A story needs to be clear. It's the difference between good ambiguity and bad ambiguity. Good ambiguity leaves a reader with thoughts about where a story can go OR where a story came from. Bad ambiguity leaves the reader wanting more OR questioning the validity of the narrative.

Don't force me to see a movie again! MAKE me want to see it again!

Sixteen Candles - John Hughes Update #1

Part of me feels like a presidential candidate needing to hold a press conference explaining my actions. For reasons unknown, movies were not a part of my childhood. My family isn't cinephilic in the least. Mom likes going, but Dad just can't understand why anyone would want to spend two hours of a sunny weekend in a dark theater. What is the fallout of all this? Charley has seen only one John Hughes movie: Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

And I don't even like it! Cameron's (Alan Ruck) phone conversation with principal Rooney is the only funny part. I can't buy Broderick either. His demeanor is awkward and I don't think he can carry a movie. Election (Alexander Payne, 1999) works for me because Broderick's Jim McAllister IS Matthew Broderick!

What John Hughes films haven't I seen? Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, and Pretty and Pink. When my friends discuss these films, I stay silent. Having not seen them, I don't have anything to contribute. So, when I admitted that I had not seen this Molly Ringwald trilogy, I am surprised there wasn't an earthquake from all the jaws hitting the floor. It's surprising for two reason. The first is that these films are quintessential coming-of-age tales for my generation (those born in the early to mid-eighties). The second is that these films are about high school, something that I love. I could watch She's All That (Robert Iscove, 1999) and Can't Hardly Wait (Harry Elfont & Deborah Kaplan, 1998) anytime. If they're on television, I can't turn away.

My friends were very willing to help. MH lended Sixteen Candles. I decided to watch this trilogy in chronological order, so let's begin with Candles. Ringwald's Samantha is immediately recognizable as an outcast teen. She has her own circle of friends, but is obviously not part of the jock and motorcycle crowd. To make matters worse, her family forgot her sixteenth birthday. The film follows her day at school. The object of her desire is typical jock-with-money Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling). The quest brings these two characters together.

Ultimately, the reason to watch this film is for The Geek (Anthony Michael Hall). A courageous outsider with stereotypical prowess with technology. At first only interested in obtaining the underwear of a girl, Candles of course finds his reputation soaring like an exponential curve. An unlikely partnership forms between Jake Ryan and The Geek. The Geek has information about Samantha that Jake Ryan wants. Jake Ryan has a girlfriend that he is all too happy to dump on The Geek, who is all too happy to take her.

If you've seen any teen comedy, then you know where all this is headed and I don't need to explain it to you. In the end, I think I was a little disappointed. I like Molly Ringwald as the lead, but Schoeffling mails it in. His best scene is with The Geek, but only because Anthony Michael Hall CAN carry the scene. Schoeffling only serves as the eye candy.

A post on The Breakfast Club is coming...

Do the Subtle Performances Win Awards?

The recent past shows actors garnering praise for flamboyant performances. Think Johnny Depp in Gore Verbinski's Pirates of the Caribbean or Daniel Day-Lewis in P.T. Anderson's There Will Be Blood. Their eccentric or loudest moments are the most memorable.

"I've abandoned my boy!"

No doubt he gets pumped for these kinds of scenes and he delivers. Going back to his work in Scorsese's Gangs of New York, I remember his opening lines best. Delivering lines is only half the battle. In Film Art, Bordwell and Thompson evaluate performances by also looking at an actor's eyes, eyebrows, and mouth. But why stop there? Why not evaluate the entire body of performance?

Again, let's look at Bill the Butcher's first scene in Gangs. He leads his gang of natives to the battleground with Vallon's (Liam Neeson) "foreign hordes." He stops at his mark and assumes a particular stance. His feet spread apart, balanced, and ready for the upcoming skirmish. His hands grab the knives at his waist. And he doesn't just hold them - his arms are flexed and prepared for battle. The Butcher's overall body language is aggressive, and not by mistake.

This is Bill's opening scene and while his character deepens throughout the film, these initial minutes display the Butcher's intimidating presence.

His opening lines may be memorable, but the reason the performance is striking is the subtlety of the rest of the film. Later in the film, Amsterdam (Leonardo DiCaprio) challenhes the Butcher to a final battle. Watch how Bill handles his pipe and the way he leans against the post. He thinks for a moment and then delivers the line: "Challenge accepted." Perhaps too reductively, the flamboyant scenes are memorable, but the subtle moments win awards.

Switching to P.T. Anderson's There Will Be Blood, two scenes stick out that illustrate my point. One is the aforementioned "I've Abandoned My Boy" sequence. It's the showcase sequence for Day-Lewis' performance. It's the part that everyone remembers most vividly. But it is not Day-Lewis' best scene. Anybody can act crazily on screen, but to tame, temper, and taper the performance shows an attuned ability.

90210 (2008) - Parents and Infidelity

Some quick thoughts on the last two episodes of The CW's new revival series, "90210."

In the previous two episodes (including this evening) Naomi needed to deal with no doubt a difficult situation for a daughter - parental infidelity.

Now, I have no experience with a parent committing adultery. I would imagine that most kids idolize their parents. Most kids seem to glean their political stance from their parents and they are perhaps our greatest supporters.

Naomi's distress with her father's infidelity is certainly understandable. At least within the cohort of the "90210" universe, parents provide for their children in some way. And, regardless of how the offspring turn out, parents provide them with something, whether it be a car, guidance, or a trust fund. What the child does with these gifts is their business and their responsibility. Although they may not show it, they have never experienced any other world and have no idea "how the other side lives." The bottom line here is that most kids idolize their parents. Remember how we said in elementary school, "My dad can beat up your dad." We said those things for a reason. Our parents were (maybe are) infallible. They could do no wrong and when we see them fighting or betraying the other, their child's reactions may be volatile.

Lost in this discussion is the core relationship between the husband and wife. The real world and very public example of this is former New York governor Eliot Spitzer. Almost every pundit sympathized with the children and the possible ramifications of how such a relationship affects them - and I think for good reason. Most pundits also assume that Spitzer's wife must necessarily be upset and only left with the choice of leaving her husband.

I can only credit The Tony Kornheiser Show with this opinion. The show airs approximately from January to June. That opinion was that we, as the general public, have no idea the arrangement between husband and wife. It may sound ridiculous, but perhaps the wife allows the husband to "stray" from time to time. As much as the court of public opinion condemns such people who cheat on their spouses, their relationship is THEIR business and not ours.

Our culture sees this as despicable and that's fine. However, it seems quite presumptuous to assume that the spouse cheated on MUST sever all ties with the adulterer. We have no idea how they manage their relationship. And apparently this sentiment is shared by enough people to warrant a website such as AshleyMadison.com.

Bringing it back to the "90210" television series, Naomi confronts her mother about the issue and her mom tells her that she has known about the affair for some time. Naomi doesn't get it - fine. But the mom knows and is accepting of the situation. Clearly she deems it an acceptable casualty of their marriage. Obviously, there is some arrangement and is it our business what that arrangement is? I wonder...

Manhattan (Woody Allen, 1979)

Brace yourself! Manhattan might MIGHT be more about the city than Woody Allen. Pinch me!

I enjoy visual onslaughts – and Manhattan is no exception. Two years earlier, Annie Hall (Allen) covered similar narrative territory, but Manhattan structures itself differently. Notably the film offers a linear narrative, but most striking is the choice to use black and white exclusively. No, Manhattan cannot compare to The Matrix or Lord of the Rings for all their visual escapades, but Manhattan offers as much spectacle through subtle nuance as either of those recent blockbusters.

Woody Allen plays television writer Isaac Davies, almost a carbon copy of Annie Hall’s Alvy Singer. It’s hard to feel bad for Isaac though. Isaac, divorced from a young and very attractive Meryl Streep (Jill) and now rides a relationship merry-go-round featuring both a precocious albeit mature 17 year-old Tracy (Mariel Hemingway) and an older more culturally sophisticated Annie Hal…sorry, Mary Wilkie (Diane Keaton). In short, if you like Woody Allen being Woody Allen, then Manhattan is for you. If you don’t, then skip it.

Endless comparisons have probably been made between this film and Annie Hall. One of the few negatives of Annie Hall might be in its structure. The non-linear narrative may confuse and distract filmgoers. However, its structure allows a more generalized feeling to surface. Manhattan is Annie Hall, streamlined.

With the writing and narrative components so closely related to Annie Hall, what sets Manhattan apart from its cinematic spouse is the visual element. The black and white choice is significant requiring a vastly different approach from all aspects of the filmmaking process. The costumer designer (Albert Wolsky), cinematographer (Gordon Willis), and production designer (Mel Bourne) and others must work in concert to create the look for the film. In a black and white film, the foremost concern is contrast. A blue and green sweater might look good, but offers little in terms of color contrast. Noticing a simple layering effect requires vastly different and perhaps an unconventional color palette to the naked eye. Some of the best scenes of the film involve Woody Allen dressed in a tuxedo begging the question: Does any other costume design look better in black and white?

A few scenes remind me of Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941). Sometimes these scenes manifest themselves in single shots. One scene early in the film displays one floor of Isaac’s first apartment. Two light sources balance the shot: one illuminating the spiral staircase and the other as a fill or back light for Tracy sitting on a couch. The stationary camera allows the viewer to absorb the entirety of the shot. Recall the scene from Kane when Charles Kane (Orson Welles) finishes Jedediah’s (Joseph Cotton) newspaper article. Think of the depth of the scene: Kane typing in the foreground with Jedediah pleading to his longtime friend, and all in focus. It does not seem unreasonable to see other filmmakers taking a different approach in using tighter angles and shots. Sometimes the simple choice (possibly an easier one?) is the best one.

The camera positions the active portion of the scene deep into the frame. The other option would be to follow Isaac with a handheld camera through the apartment and settle in a stationary position framing Tracy and Isaac together. This illustrates the central point in Manhattan – the influence of locale. With Annie Hall, the reasoning for the title is obvious because the film focuses on Alvy’s relationship with the character. Manhattan’s title leaves room for speculation. Again, scenes featuring Isaac and Mary place them deep in the shot and once again allowing eyes to stray to nearby delis and skyscrapers. But I’m not sure I learned how Isaac and therefore Allen feel about the city. Obviously, they like it. Tell me why? Still, the film opens with a voice-over from Isaac campaigning for New York as the greatest city in the world suggesting that the film is more about the city than Woody Allen. Pinch me again!