David Fincher's films are an aesthetic triumph. From Alien3 on, he contrasts and controls the elements of darkness and vulgarity with the rules of symmetry and composition. He makes beautiful ugliness. Fincher, both thematically and technically, integrates the full aesthetic of perfectly and beautifully designed fallen-ness. Alien3 is driven by the qualities of masculinity and femininity, of stark evil and goodness co-existing. Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) becomes a Christ figure - complete with outstretched arms sacrifice. She sacrifices her beauty to battle ugliness. And like Father Karras (Jason Miller) in The Exorcist, her sacrifice to ugliness is designed to preserve beauty and goodness.
Se7en is the masterpiece statement on beautiful ugliness. Even the rain is transformed into a symbol of the pervasive presence of sin. It is a powerful look at the deceptive and persistent draw of sin, that eventually it will corrupt and stain even the most beautiful and innocent qualities of this life, even the desire for justice. But in that understanding, and under Fincher's perfect combination of themes and aesthetics, something else emerges: the clarity of the human condition. We are drawn to Luther's famous statement: simultaneously saint/justified and sinner.
The problem with the human condition is that, because of our fallenness, we tend to understand the good virtues most clearly in contrast with the evil. Fincher and Scorsese both yield to the temptation to exploit evil, but neither completely forsakes the triumph and necessity of good. And for that reason, no matter how ugly their films become, beauty is ultimately their aim and their redemption.
Labels: commentary, theology
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TITLE: On Old Films
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 9:03:00 AM
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BODY:
C.S. Lewis wrote an article called "On the Reading of Old Books." In that short and essential essay, Lewis noted the value and surprise of going back a few centuries - or millennia - to read old authors. He wasn't being scholarly or imposing some kind of classical discipline. Instead, he argued, old books are more helpful. In new books, the accepted beliefs of our day generally go uncriticized. In old books, whatever is true is still true, but whatever is false is obviously false.
There's a similar perspective in watching old - or at least older - movies. Contemporary films have few shocking scenes, especially when they intend to be shocking. I have no interest in watching the Saw series, a work that creates shock from purely visceral extravagances. The lustiness of the American Pie series is lost on me. Instead, I'm more stunned by older films that smuggle in racial, gender, political or religious explosives.
Watching the films of classic era directors is a great starting point. Joseph Mankiewicz played with gender and age in many of his films. The suggestiveness of Cleopatra was dangerous. All About Eve was littered with one-liners and quick glances that packed in more envy, contempt and wit than most modern black comedies can hope to achieve.
Likewise, Howard Hawks never hides his feelings about domesticity - about the nuclear family or the feminine woman (or man). He promotes the power of masculinity, the value of career and sexual politics. He also plays with censor boards, pushing text and context. Consider Gentlemen Prefer Blondes:
Guy 1 (staring at Jane Russell's and Marilyn Monroe's torso): Say, suppose the ship hits an iceberg and sinks. Which one of them do you save from drowning? Guy 2: Those girls couldn't drown.
It's not difficult to go back further, to the silents and people like de Mille and D.W. Griffith. De Mille exploited the R-rated nature of Romans and biblical stories for all they were worth. Consider the Claudette Colbert's donkey milk bath in Sign of the Cross. Griffith decorated the Babylonian court with women in Intolerance. Even Fritz Lang played with highly suggestive nudity in Metropolis.
DeMille, Griffith and Lang worked largely before the production code, and there was an illicit and provocative nature to their naughtiness. It was limited by the social mores of the day, walking a fine line between the lure of cinema and the loud moral charges against it (not unlike the modern era).
The Hayes code may have produced the most interesting and playful shocking scenes. Hitchcock was the master of smuggling sexual tension. His train ride affair between Eva Marie Saint and Cary Grant is the stuff of legends. Notorious is riddled with suggestiveness concerning adultery and promiscuity.
Part of my hatred for the "PG-13" rating is that it allows filmmakers to be lazy. Violence can be loud and vulgar, but the absence of two "F"-words makes it appropriate for teenagers. Likewise, sexual conversation isn't ever muted, subtle or suggestive. It's boringly frank and technical. Violence is exploited.
The Hayes code is not the ideal of any generation, but it did force a level of creativity from writers, producers and directors that is no longer necessary. Instead of Psycho's artfully violent and sexual shower scene - something that shows neither the knife's penetration or nudity - the contemporary film can pull back into wide shots, showing as much of the actress as necessary, with blood spurts and voyeuristic indulgence. And, in the process, the modern film is less shocking and intriguing.
Labels: commentary
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TITLE: My Ignorant Oscars (Direction)
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 7:11:00 AM
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BODY:
Once upon a time, my wife and I did a weekly podcast following current releases. That seems like an impossible event considering how seldom we get to movies these days. So it is with great shame that we - as co-hosts of a show about directors - can offer no real insight into this year's "Best Achievement in Directing" Academy Award category. Having only seen one of the nominated works, we have to watch from afar.
We hope to get the movies in before the Oscars, if for no other reason than to comment on our picks and our bets. But perhaps there's something valuable about picking and guessing from a place of near complete ignorance. Ignorance and speculation will be the sum total of this entry.
Of the five nominees, Stephen Frears (The Queen) seems the least likely to win. Frears has done some reputable work in the past (The Grifters, Dangerous Liaisons), but is, well, too British. And his film is too explicitly British. Nothing confirms the snobbery of the Academy like seeming too British. Ignorant odds of winning: 1 in 100.
Clint Eastwood (Letters from Iwo Jima) is a double-winner. The Academy likes him: his austere filmmaking, complete with a nihilist and important-feeling string of films going back to Unforgiven (1992). That's part of Eastwood's advantage. But it also doesn't hurt that he threw out a companion work, Flags of Our Fathers, which also drew some attention. But is he ready for a third statue? The only way Academy members give him a third and snub Scorsese is out of spite and no one hates Scorsese. Ignorant odds of winning: 1 in 25.
Paul Greengrass (United 93) is an intelligent filmmaker. He's especially noteworthy for how he approached a film about one of the most exploitable and sensitive events in American history: the events of September 11, 2001. And perhaps it’s because of the significance of the events behind the film that Greengrass has a shot. But at the end of the day, United 93 is a film that capitalizes on external reinforcement and probably won't endure as a great film. It's not a controversial film and deserves credit for taking such a sensitive subject and perfectly choosing how to deal with it. Then again, maybe a more dangerous filmmaker would have made a more provocative film (it's a subject that even seems to have tamed/subdued Oliver Stone). In some ways, the nomination is the award. Ignorant odds of winning: 1 in 50.
Alejandro Iñárritu (Babel) is the kind of filmmaker that has garnered whispers and notice from a number of influential critics and moviegoers. Since Meirelles's City of God (2002) and Alfonso Cuarón's Y Tu Mamá También (2001), the film world has started taking notice of Central and South American film work. It's serious stuff. The Mexican Iñárritu has an open path to taking the award this year, especially given the foundation he's set in 21 Grams and Amores Perros - both deeply respected films. Babel already won the Golden Globe for Best Picture. Ignorant odds of winning: 1 in 5.
The final nominee needs no introduction. He's the Bob Dylan of his era - ignored for years by the establishment, especially in his prime - and due for recognition now that he's part of the royalty of that establishment. I'm not saying the Academy gives undeserving awards to filmmakers and actors it has ignored in the past - just that it gives an advantage. This is the biggest reason Martin Scorsese (The Departed) will win. It's not that his film isn't strong. It's the one picture on this list that I've actually seen, and it's definitely among the better works of the year. The performances are outstanding, the execution is solid and the buzz is exciting. Of course, I thought the ending was abrupt, arbitrary and untrue and haven't seen as conspicuous and gawsh-inducing a rat shot since Species (1995). But otherwise, it was both an enjoyable and expertly crafted film, deserving of the nomination. Likewise, Scorsese - despite the faults of this film - handled it with an energy that deserves attention. Scorsese has already won the Golden Globe for direction and will finally get his Oscar. Semi-ignorant odds of winning: 1 in 2.
Labels: commentary
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TITLE: EW and the Oscar curse/blessing
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 6:24:00 AM
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Entertainment Weekly came out with its list of the 25 most shameless, money grubbing rolls in film. Not surprisingly Sir Ben Kingsley (Gandhi, Sexy Beast) came out near the top for his work in Uwe Boll's BloodRayne - he could have just as easily been nominated for A Sound of Thunder, Species or Thunderbirds. Then they introduced a sidebar appealing to Rachel Weisz to stay away from another Mummy movie.
Mrs. Weisz joins that list of actors with an Academy Award and a tendency for playful - or outright bad - films. I don't know if it’s necessary to mention Catwoman Halle Berry or Aeon Flux Charize Theron (though I just did). There's now a fear that the Academy will be impugned for its good judgment based on the subsequent careers of its winners.
But is an Academy Award reason for Rachel Weisz or Halley Berry or any actor to avoid dumb movies? At least in the case of B*A*P*S/The Flintstones-Berry, there's precedent for non-prestigious film work. If she does a Jinx spin-off or Storm movie, who cares? I'm not going to watch it, but someone else will.
Perhaps the Oscar has the right to demand more from its recipients, but does it mean that an actor has the responsibility to avoid shameless mass entertainment?
First of all, I hope Weisz does another Mummy movie if - and this is the important part - the script is right. And she probably will - if the script is right. What we expect from any actor is discernment and consistency, not a class distinction.
Rachel Weisz has experimented in a number of genres, but generally her bad films are still decent. Even if she never says, "Pembroke scholars" again, the truth is that her work in the Mummy series (along with another talented, but "less discerning" actor, Brendan Fraser) gave enough gravity to that film, that the CGI muck was acceptable. Likewise, my affection for Constantine would probably be diminished with a lesser actor taking the role of Angela/Isabel.
There are three reasons for following the work of an actor. First, they did a roll that forever impacted us. I will watch a movie with Cary Elwes because of The Princes Bride or Val Kilmer because of Real Genius. Second, They have a charisma that pulls us back in. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan capitalized on audience affection for a decade of films. Finally, because they have a consistency of performance - you know that no matter what happens in the film, that actor (i.e. Crispin Glover, Peter Stormare, Tilda Swinton, Bill Murray) will give me something to redeem the experience. (Of course, Bill Murray did two Garfield films that I will never watch.)
I've gone to a movie because an actor won an award for that film, but never because an actor had previously won an award. The Oscar is not a reason for following an actor's career, nor should it be reason for that actor to change the way they choose roles. Hopefully, it gives them the freedom to choose exactly the roles that most appeal to them.
What we all hope for is consistency, which is perhaps why someone like Ben Kingsley is so frustrating. It's not that he did Gandhi, and should only do Gandhi. He was also great as the Vice President in Dave. But though I trust a Kingsley performance to be solid, I don't trust him to do good movies. And that's all we hope for with Rachel Weisz.
Labels: commentary
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TITLE: Podcasts and Christian filmmaking
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 11:05:00 AM
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Melissa and I receive a fair bit of email from listeners to our podcast (Watching The Directors). Some of the best, comes from fellow podcasters including Jesse over at Filmed But Not Forgotten. We also received a note from the folks over at The Studio Upstairs. I've only listened to a single episode, but deeply enjoyed it - perhaps because they're making the podcast I'd make if we weren't already doing our format.
Kathy asked an interesting question: "When it comes to Christian film, is the mainstream movie-going audience afraid of the message or the messenger?" This was pursued in greater depth with an interview with film critic and DVD editor Wade Major from Boxoffice Magazine. Kathy and Chris are Evangelical Christians (Major is a member of the LDS Church). The discussion moved toward Kathy's original question and provoked some interesting answers.
One of my favorite films - from a purely devotional level - is Time Changer. It tells the tale of a nineteenth-century seminary professor who travels forward to contemporary Los Angeles and pursues a question: does removing Christ from our imperative toward good behavior neuter Christianity? The film is reasonably well-acted, well-shot composed and generally free from some of the more embarrassing elements of amateur indie filmmaking. But I'm never sure how to recommend that film to non-Christians, or even Christians who (like me) have a tendency to be critical of the use of film or the arts for apparently propagandistic purposes.
That's why so many of us die for unintentional Christian films. Wade Major pointed out the unconscious parallelism between E.T. and the outline of Jesus' life. I hadn't thought of E.T. that way, though I would make the same argument for Bryan Singer's Superman Returns. Of course, I have long defended the religious message embedded in Joe Versus the Volcano. It is arguably a contemporary parallel to Bunyan's A Pilgrim's Progress. It is, at least, a statement of the common grace and Providence of God to the spiritual pilgrim.
Chris and Wade also talked at length mentioning the presence of Christian characters, including Robert Duvall's Sonny from The Apostle. "Sonny" introduces the catch to the deal that happens when we want Christianity to enter the mainstream: we may get a real portrait. To this day, I'm not sure how I feel about The Apostle. I, like most Christians, wanted Sonny to be more morally pure - like the way Christians were portrayed in the 1950's. But Sonny, like many of us, is a portrait of Luther's simul justus et peccator - "simultaneously saint/justified and sinner."
When looking for the Christian character in contemporary film, we at least have some solid portraits. Perhaps the most unlikely - and most powerful - was X-Men 2's Nightcrawler. But he isn't alone. Here's a short list of other significant Christian characters that have appeared recently:
- Eric Liddell Chariots of Fire (Ian Charleson 1981)
- Angela Dodson Constantine (Rachel Weisz 2005)
- Lt. Col. Hal Moore We Were Soldiers (Mel Gibson 2002)
- Father Rodrigo Mendoza The Mission (Robert De Niro 1986)
- Father Matt Gutierrez The Body (Antonio Banderas 2001)
- Father Damien Karras The Exorcist (Jason Miller 1973)
- Shepherd Book Serenity/Firefly (Ron Glass 2005)
These last two may be a bit more controversial...
- Bethany Sloane Dogma (Linda Fiorentino 1999)
- Jules Winnfield Pulp Fiction (Samuel L. Jackson 1994)
Admittedly, my list dries up rather quickly, but there are signs that well-written and performed Christian characters are welcome in theaters. The rules are the same that apply to all characters and films: (to steal from sports commentator Jim Rome) "Have a take and don't suck."
Labels: commentary
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TITLE: Archive Review: Time Changer (2002)
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 10:59:00 AM
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BODY:
Dir: Rich Christiano
Christian filmmaking is generally akin to war propaganda and after-school specials. It requires the adjective “Christian” because these filmmakers cater to an audience that is forgiving, exploiting a sense of party loyalty and cultural guilt. It is very difficulty to tell a story well, whether in film or print. Somewhere, there must be an overriding theme; the story must be about something. At the same time, for the story to have any depth, the characters cannot become inferior to the theme. In action films it is customary to use “types”—disposable and predictable villains, fair maidens, and brawny vigilantes. But in dramas, character is essential.
Time Changer is tightly focused on its thematic question: “Can morality and the authority of Jesus Christ be separated?” Of course, we cannot imagine the flimmaker answering in the negative. We are being taught something, a way to think properly. If we are to listen to the film and enjoy it, we must think like it does. We must agree with what it teaches.
Propaganda films are usually very boring or unbearably heavy-handed. Even the better ones, such as The Day the Earth Stood Still or Intolerance, are difficult to forgive. We know we are being manipulated and though we may even agree with the film, there is always a level of resentment against being told to see with one perspective.
There is one avenue for propaganda films that can work more smoothly, namely, the satire. Black comedy and exaggerated stories make disagreement seem ludicrous. But satire is more manipulative than the blatant propaganda film. Time Changer is not truly satire. But neither, despite its premise, is it really about manipulation. Yes, it manipulates, but that does not appear to be its function. Rich Christiano seems intent on exploring the foundational question, building a case study or illustration. (The movie is both his hypothesis and his evidence, and to critique the film negatively one must find a hole in his argument.)
Time Changer is a rather credible piece of entertainment, mixing H.G. Wells fantasy with fish-out-of-water comedy. Yet, despite this quickly identifiable parentage, Christiano manages to avoid several of the clichés present in both genres. The time machine device completely stays away from any “changing the future” idea. It also dedicates little time to comedic misunderstandings. As Russell Carlisle (D. David Morin) comes to the present, he really adjusts as quickly as possible to modern contrivances. He gets the gist of the future and attempts to make his stay invisible.
Despite the fantastic plot device of utilizing time travel to witness the results of Carlisle’s theories, there is gravity and evident contrast between past and present. This gravity comes from what is arguably the greatest strength, or greatest weakness, of the movie: D. David Morin’s performance. He seems stilted and speaks awkwardly. The dialogue is intentionally contrasted from modern vernacular. Carlisle talks in complete sentences without contractions ("will not" not "won't" - "can not" not "can't"). But reading nineteenth-century scholarly writings, perhaps Morin’s performance is better than it seems. The only doubt about this is watching Carlisle in contrast with the fluid mannerisms of his contemporaries Norris Anderson and The Dean, played by more prominent actors Gavin MacLeod and Hal Linden, respectively.
Time Changer succeeds in two significant areas: the characters are interesting and, largely, original — and there is enough intrigue to keep viewers to the end. It could easily use another re-write and an outside, critical eye to advance the movie to another level. Knowing that the primary audience is fundamental Christians — and that the movie was executively produced by Paul Crouch, founder and president of the banal Trinity Broadcasting Network — Christiano takes some significant risks. Although he doesn’t exactly bite the hand that feeds, he subtly makes a few pokes at the modern church. It isn’t enough, but it is accurate.
The entire movie is as much a critique of liberal Christianity as it is propaganda for fundamental Christianity. While it reinforces evangelical zeal for “End Times” theology and proactive evangelism, it also questions the results of agnostic philanthropy and – very subtly – religious right demands for the legislation of moral behavior.
Rich Christiano’s effort is generally solid. It might even be good filmmaking, though, at its heart, it is intensely about an agenda. There’s nothing wrong with the agenda and it is uncommon enough to propel the film. Time Changer puts forth hope that Protestant Christianity may one day re-engage with culture, depending on good storytelling, compelling characters, skillful directing and proficient acting more than a sympathetic audience. Considering the progress made by LDS filmmaker Richard Dutcher, Christiano still has some work to do, but he may have a great film in him somewhere.
*** of *****
Labels: 3-stars, archive reviews, commentary, reviews
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TITLE: On Christmas films
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 7:29:00 AM
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It's that time of year when we attempt to confirm the holiday with movies. There's nothing wrong with that, though it's primarily about one thing: feeling like Christmas. Christmas movies, like Christmas music, are an attempt to establish the mood.
The most successful movies are about this - the idea that Christmas is a mood, a "spirit,” rather than a celebration. This post isn't simply a complaint about that situation. If it weren’t for the "Christmas spirit" we probably wouldn't get the day off work.
Christmas spirit movies generally fall into the categories of having an epiphany, usually about what "this season is all about" (i.e. family, friends, giving) - the Charles Dickens interpretations.
Many “Christmas spirit” movies include variations and interpretations of The Christmas Carol. These start to show up in 1908 and move on into a number of modern interpretations. The most famous adaptations are the George C. Scott (1984) and the Alastair Slim Scrooge (1951). The Flintstones do a version as do the Muppets, which is surprisingly faithful to the original story.
The variations are perhaps even more famous: consider Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life, which has become as essential a part of Christmas as a manger. The Richard Donner/Bill Murray ironic take, Scrooged (1988), is an attempt to update the story for a bit more "sophisticated" and ironic audience (it is also surprisingly inappropriate for showing at most youth church activities). The Family Man (2000) is perhaps the most recent incarnation.
Christmas spirit movies tend to be about just the decoration of Christmas. Consider pictures like A Christmas Story, The Christmas that Almost Wasn't, Holiday Inn, White Christmas, The Grinch, Trapped in Paradise, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, The Santa Clause, The Polar Express, Elf, etc. The Christmas spirit is simply a political/cultural agreement in these movies - a mood of the season that compels certain dress and behavior. Generally, these movies require a new mythology to give the season meaning. Hence, the Santa legend (and Rudolph and Frosty) gets thrust into prominence by those stop-motion Rankin-Bass television specials of the 1960s-70s. (I blame/credit the famous 1897 editorial, "Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus.")
A few Christmas spirit movies use the season for comedic relief and atmosphere: Mixed Nuts, Edward Scissorhands, Trading Places, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and Die Hard. For some reason, this seems less sentimental and exploitive.
The trick comes when finding a movie that can talk about the "Christ" or "Mass" of Christmas. Although I wasn't deeply intrigued by the appearance of this year's The Nativity Story, I am thankful for it's creation and will probably watch it with my family next year on DVD. But it gets difficult to find films that integrate the "Christ of Christmas." There are a few - very few.
On the television front, it's impossible to do better than the reading of the old King James translation of Luke's Gospel in A Charlie Brown Christmas. It's pure beauty and simplicity. Pee-Wee's Christmas Special, despite the holiday-season dressing, takes a moment to explain that Christmas is specifically about Christ's birth. The Rankin-Bass The Little Drummer Boy still works and was my favorite as a kid.
The Bishop's Wife (1947) is a movie that includes a very pointed sermon. The Bells of St. Mary (1944) features an enjoyable Christmas pageant. The Fourth Wise Man (1985) is a television movie attempt.
There are a couple films that incorporate the Nativity in remarkable, poignant ways. Pasolini's The Gospel of St. Matthew (1964) is breathtaking. A big surprise comes in Richard Dutcher's States of Grace (2005). I won't say how it integrates Christmas, only that it's remarkably powerful. (Note: In case this interests you, Pasolini was an atheist and Dutcher is a Mormon and neither film is especially appropriate for younger audiences.)
There aren't a lot of actual Christ-mas movies and perhaps there's a reason. The Nativity doesn't sell well and it doesn't excite most people outside the Church. Even within the Church, it's often sentimentalized. But if you're a Christian and the incarnation of the Son of God means what it should mean, hearing hymns about Jesus' birth and the sovereignty of God's purpose more than compensates for the lack of viewing options. There's something special about the old-fashioned Christmas pageant, watching kids act out the story of the journey to Bethlehem and the birth in the manger. Perhaps it just doesn't translate to film as easily as Santa and snowy New York streets.
(Note: There are a couple war films that have strong Christmas themes. I don't remember 1992's A Midnight Clear very well, except as a solid WWII picture. I'm particularly interested in the 2005 French film Joyeux Noël, which is based on a true story of Christmas invading war - and which I haven't seen yet.)
Labels: commentary, theology
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TITLE: Casino Royale (2006)
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 7:28:00 PM
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BODY:
Dir: Martin Campbell
"Ever" is a tricky word, but one we love to toss around. With the advent of the grittier, blonder Bond, every commentator feels compelled to answer the questions: "Is Daniel Craig the best Bond ever?” "Is Casino Royale the best Bond film ever?" The answers are "No" and "Not exactly."
As for the first matter, it's probably better to say not yet, though Craig has clearly passed George Lazenby, Timothy Dalton and, probably, Pierce Brosnan. One thing is certain; Craig is the best actor to play Bond. Neither Connery nor Moore had the range. But Craig still hasn't shown us the suave strength of Brosnan, the charm of Connery or the humor of Moore. Of course, that's part of the fun of the Bond franchise - watching the role find new energy in the actors portraying the super agent.
The tougher question comes with the best Bond film ever. Casino Royale, despite a few dramatic slowdowns, may be the best film that is also a Bond film. It is sophisticated, superbly acted, wise and appropriate to the current era. But it isn't exactly a Bond film.
Moonraker, A View To A Kill, even the apocryphal Never Say Never Again - these are absurd, poorly scripted, half-hearted movies. But they are Bond movies. There's the familiar arrogant charm, womanizing, cool toys, speed and extravagant super criminals. No self-respecting movie critic would toss compliments about these movies (or 80% of the other movies) that have flown out regarding Casino Royale. That's because most critics aren't 14 year-old boys.
The "reboot" of the franchise is a redressing of the very essence of all that we've come to expect. Through the years, James Bond has ceased to be a literary character; he's a comic book. Casino Royale is an attempt to remind the viewer that Ian Fleming was a writer – a novelist - and that James Bond is a "blunt instrument" in those novels. In this refashioning, Casino Royale has more in common with its source material and Jason Bourne than any previous Bond movie.
Who deserves credit/blame for this change? It's probably the stream of comic films that have attempted to be completely serious, grounded in a gravity and pathos utterly distinct from the comic universe of the pre-1980's. It began and culminated in Batman, from "The Dark Knight" era of Tim Burton to Christopher Nolan's utterly serious origin story. Of course, Bryan Singer's psychological portraits of Superman and the X-Men made it impossible for Bond to be 2-dimensional any longer.
What remains is the promise of greater sophistication, deeper, more intense plot lines and new standards in acting. What gets lost is the one bastion for adolescence in action. Daniel Craig may be the best actor, Casino Royale the best film - but Connery and Goldfinger, they may be the best Bond duo... ever.
**** of *****
Labels: 4-stars, commentary, reviews
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TITLE: The Nativity Story wants yous
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 7:05:00 AM
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BODY:
It happened before. The surprising success of The Song of Bernadette (1943) drove movie studios to pump out a string of films aimed at capturing the Christian – in particular, Catholic – audience. The Keys of the Kingdom (1944) was a great film, but it owes its very existence to The Song of Bernadette. Eventually, the piety movie merged with Hollywood storytelling to produce the CinemaScope wonder of The Robe (1953), culminating in Ben Hur (1959). So its not like a market-driven exploitation can't produce some good work.
Anyone who follows trends in the motion picture industry was waiting for a similar string of films following the surprising success of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ (2004). And for some reason, that genre saturation failed to happen. But this December, a new film is being released obviously intent to capture the power and audience of Gibson’s breakthrough Jesus epic.
The Nativity Story is nothing less than a test to see if that audience is still out there and if there really is a pile of money waiting for Evangelical/Catholic-friendly filmmakers. Already, the film is advertising its faithfulness to the Gospels. It is premiering at the Vatican, and notes it's use of theologians and historians. If that doesn't draw you in, it was also heavily filmed in Patera, Italy - home of The Passion (and Pasolini's landmark The Gospel of St. Matthew).
Perhaps I'm too skeptical, or simply bored with historical biblical films. There was an intensity to The Passion of the Christ that made it an original film. Gibson succeeded in creating an project that actually worked best in the medium. But, many biblical films are sheer illustration, like highly-financed replacements of Sunday School flannel boards. Their reverence and solemnity, joined with anachronistic clothing and atmospheric music, don't create a sense of identity but distance and otherness.
Will I see The Nativity? Eventually. But it doesn't appeal to me in the way it should. I eagerly anticipated The Passion. But perhaps much of that had to do with knowing Gibson's work from previous films, shooting in Aramaic and the level of controversy surrounding the movie. The Nativity seems a bit too safe, too obvious and too marketed at an audience like, well, me. And maybe the Gen-X anti-establishment part of me resents that.
The movie will have to hit theaters before we know if there's something special about this new biblically-serious movie. Will church youth groups flock to theaters, bringing all their "unsaved friends" or will critics describe it as a challenging and worthwhile vision? Perhaps it's "unprecedented level of commitment to ensure the authenticity... of the Nativity story" will translate into an significant, devotional experience. But, for some reason I'm much more interested in seeing The Fountain, Apocalypto or, yes, even Rocky Balboa. Perhaps I'm becoming a Pagan. Or maybe The Charlie Brown Christmas Special spoiled me for any other Nativity interpretation.
Labels: commentary, theology
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TITLE: Temptation/Passion of (the) Christ(s)
AUTHOR: Joe Johnson
DATE: 1:04:00 PM
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BODY:
The following article is written in response to an email I received. On the Martin Scorsese episode of Watching The Directors (podcast), I commented on how I thought The Last Temptation of Christ depicted the crucifixion, the desert temptation and the raising of Lazarus better than any other film. The email asked me to explain my comments, especially in consideration and comparison with Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.
It's nearly impossible for me to think of The Passion of the Christ without considering The Last Temptation of Christ. Both were preceded by enormous controversy, both were impressive compositions by talented directors and both were devotional works. I'd go so far as to argue that if you watch either film as a movie, you will be disappointed. Scorsese and Gibson, both Catholics, were attempting to personally explore the humanity of Jesus in ways that traditional films had not (with the possible exception of Pasolini's Il Vangelo Secondo Matteo). In the process, they omitted numerous biblical elements, exaggerated others, and concentrated on those issues most significant to them. In Scorsese, this comes across as a creating a confused, isolated Jesus. In Gibson, this is a heroic Jesus who's essence is most revealed through physical torment.
Albert Schweitzer once commented that writing a biography about Jesus generally reveals more of the author than the subject. I think this is true of both directors.
My noted preferences for Scorsese's film is not in it's adherence to Scripture. It makes little attempt to due so, noting that it is a pondering - a devotional retelling of Kazantszakis's heretical novel. (Gibson also mixed his Gospel sources with the mystic Anne Catherine Emmerich's Dolores Passion and a number of Catholic traditions.) Instead, Scorsese gave greater context to his Jesus. And with that, he displayed more scenes from the Gospels than did Gibson. When I commented on the temptation and crucifixion in Scorsese's vision (as the best depictions on film), I meant that they were visually and atmospherically more satisfying than any I had ever witnessed. They also were preceded by greater context, character development and narrative development.
The desert temptation is utterly isolating, and the visual tool of having Jesus draw a circle around himself is stunning. Likewise, the starkness and basic brutality of the crucifixion deconstructed the majesty of earlier films and countered the excessiveness of Gibson's. The way that Scorsese's camera follows the lifting of the cross is one of the greatest movements in all film, period. But ultimately, the most remarkable scene in the movie (from the perspective of really capturing a biblical moment) is the resurrection of Lazarus. Watch Jesus' own fear of death, the darkness of the tomb, the shock of movement in the dark. It's absolutely disarming and unmatched.
Gibson formed his style after the great Renaissance painter Caravaggio - and it shows. Everything is perfectly painted, with deep, organic earth tones. Scorsese's vision is more inclined to a dry, poor Moroccan desert. As such, a preference for one artistic style over the other may change a viewer's affection for the depiction of parallel scenes. Again, with the possible exception of Pasolini's vision, no director has portrayed Jesus more personally than Gibson and Scorsese. But there is something so fresh and dangerous to Scorsese's vision - a visual and narrative vibrancy - that challenges the embedded Renaissance portraits that many of us carry. Gibson's style reinforces these images.
Ironically, both directors use familiarity to deconstruct and re-imagine Jesus. Gibson begins with the solidity of centuries of Catholic and Renaissance tradition and incorporates his own fixation with brutality and penance. Scorsese takes the film-Jesus – the new American icon of long hair, blue eyes, white skin - and violates so many of our safe, Sunday School concepts. Scorsese's re-invention was much more evident as it favored a liberal, heretical line of questioning. Gibson's was less obvious as many Evangelicals ignored the brutality, narrative minimalism and Catholicity of the film in favor of an evangelism tool.
Although Scorsese turns Jesus into a romantic, Gibson romanticizes Jesus' suffering. He exaggerates the toll any human body could carry, just as Scorsese weakens his Jesus. These are two highly important, but antithetical portraits. They deserve to be seen together and understood for what each of them is: not an illustration of Scripture, but two filmmaker's devotional portraits of highly personal questions about who Jesus was and is.
Labels: commentary, theology
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As a person who spends a disproportionate amount of time with movies, I'm at odds with the medium. On one hand, film offers the culmination of a number of art forms - writing, visual and music. It tells stories in ways that were completely impossible only a century ago. Since my generation is addicted to stories, film plays into an insatiable appetite. They are convenient ways to satisfy blunt attention spans while making me believe I've learned something.
Religion is often considered the domain of the sacred. Everything else, including movies, beer and comfortable underwear, is the profane. That doesn't necessarily mean it's dirty, just that it's somehow tainted by the material world. It isn't that special, untouchable realm of holiness.
Among my deeper, perhaps more pathetic, confessions, I must admit to never reading the Lord of the Rings. My very love for that story comes utterly from those Jackson films. Yes, I've read The Hobbit a couple times, dabbled with the Silmarilion and am a few pages away from finishing Joseph Pearce's Tolkien biography. I can't defend my, well, sin. But, perhaps I can explain it.
H.R. Giger is a master of synthetic aesthetics, and by that I mean nothing less than the ability to understand and combine the most beautiful and ugly aspects of creation. There's something compellingly beautiful about his alien creations. Something that draws us in to their sleek, feminine qualities. It's very difficult to duplicate. One step in the other direction - to add a few more teeth or more dramatic angles - and they simply become monsters.
Scorsese, perhaps because of his embedded Catholicism, is constantly aware of the human-God paradox: the balance of crucifixion and resurrection, of incarnation and deity. He understands beauty so deeply that his ugliness is stronger, more effective. And the same can be said about the inverse: his ugliness makes his beauty clearer. Nowhere is this more obvious than the relationship of innocence and filth between Travis Bickle (Robert Deniro) and Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) in Taxi Driver. Her innocence fascinates and compels Travis, but his filth can't comprehend or control it. It devolves into something else, but the contact changes him. He develops a noble, though perverse, desire to be good, to be beautiful, in his attempt to save the young prostitute, Iris (Jodie Foster).
Se7en is the masterpiece statement on beautiful ugliness. Even the rain is transformed into a symbol of the pervasive presence of sin. It is a powerful look at the deceptive and persistent draw of sin, that eventually it will corrupt and stain even the most beautiful and innocent qualities of this life, even the desire for justice. But in that understanding, and under Fincher's perfect combination of themes and aesthetics, something else emerges: the clarity of the human condition. We are drawn to Luther's famous statement: simultaneously saint/justified and sinner.
C.S. Lewis wrote an article called "On the Reading of Old Books." In that short and essential essay, Lewis noted the value and surprise of going back a few centuries - or millennia - to read old authors. He wasn't being scholarly or imposing some kind of classical discipline. Instead, he argued, old books are more helpful. In new books, the accepted beliefs of our day generally go uncriticized. In old books, whatever is true is still true, but whatever is false is obviously false.
Once upon a time, my wife and I did a weekly podcast following current releases. That seems like an impossible event considering how seldom we get to movies these days. So it is with great shame that we - as co-hosts of a show about directors - can offer no real insight into this year's "Best Achievement in Directing" Academy Award category. Having only seen one of the nominated works, we have to watch from afar.
Entertainment Weekly came out with its list of the 25 most shameless, money grubbing rolls in film. Not surprisingly Sir Ben Kingsley (Gandhi, Sexy Beast) came out near the top for his work in Uwe Boll's BloodRayne - he could have just as easily been nominated for A Sound of Thunder, Species or Thunderbirds. Then they introduced a sidebar appealing to Rachel Weisz to stay away from another Mummy movie.
Melissa and I receive a fair bit of email from listeners to our podcast (Watching The Directors). Some of the best, comes from fellow podcasters including Jesse over at Filmed But Not Forgotten. We also received a note from the folks over at The Studio Upstairs. I've only listened to a single episode, but deeply enjoyed it - perhaps because they're making the podcast I'd make if we weren't already doing our format.
Dir: Rich Christiano
It's that time of year when we attempt to confirm the holiday with movies. There's nothing wrong with that, though it's primarily about one thing: feeling like Christmas. Christmas movies, like Christmas music, are an attempt to establish the mood.
Dir: Martin Campbell
It happened before. The surprising success of The Song of Bernadette (1943) drove movie studios to pump out a string of films aimed at capturing the Christian – in particular, Catholic – audience. The Keys of the Kingdom (1944) was a great film, but it owes its very existence to The Song of Bernadette. Eventually, the piety movie merged with Hollywood storytelling to produce the CinemaScope wonder of The Robe (1953), culminating in Ben Hur (1959). So its not like a market-driven exploitation can't produce some good work.
The following article is written in response to an email I received. On the Martin Scorsese episode of Watching The Directors (podcast), I commented on how I thought The Last Temptation of Christ depicted the crucifixion, the desert temptation and the raising of Lazarus better than any other film. The email asked me to explain my comments, especially in consideration and comparison with Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.
The desert temptation is utterly isolating, and the visual tool of having Jesus draw a circle around himself is stunning. Likewise, the starkness and basic brutality of the crucifixion deconstructed the majesty of earlier films and countered the excessiveness of Gibson's. The way that Scorsese's camera follows the lifting of the cross is one of the greatest movements in all film, period. But ultimately, the most remarkable scene in the movie (from the perspective of really capturing a biblical moment) is the resurrection of Lazarus. Watch Jesus' own fear of death, the darkness of the tomb, the shock of movement in the dark. It's absolutely disarming and unmatched.
Ironically, both directors use familiarity to deconstruct and re-imagine Jesus. Gibson begins with the solidity of centuries of Catholic and Renaissance tradition and incorporates his own fixation with brutality and penance. Scorsese takes the film-Jesus – the new American icon of long hair, blue eyes, white skin - and violates so many of our safe, Sunday School concepts. Scorsese's re-invention was much more evident as it favored a liberal, heretical line of questioning. Gibson's was less obvious as many Evangelicals ignored the brutality, narrative minimalism and Catholicity of the film in favor of an evangelism tool.