FilmMonthly » Wayne Case

My Reaction to Oscar Nominations for 2011 Films

Wayne Case — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 20:44:00 +0000

RANT
Since the first time the Oscars were first telecast in the mid-fifties, I’ve been enthusiastic about them. I haven’t missed a telecast.
Starting in the mid-sixties or maybe before, I have seriously followed the nomination process. Without exception, in the past, I’ve agreed with a huge percentage of the choices receiving nomination. NOT

THIS TIME.
In my opinion, The Academy’s selections for film year 2011 are the worst/least appropriate/most annoying that I’ve witnessed.
I’m very disappointed. Maybe I’m out-of-touch but completely unapologetic and decided to vent here.

WAYNE
Listed here is ratio of my agreement/disagreement with the selections in major categories.
Best Picture: I agree with 2 out of 9.
Best Director: I agree with 0 out of 5
Best Actress: I agree with 4 out of 5
Best Actor: I agree with 1 out of 5
Best Supporting Actress: I agree with 2 out of 5
Best Supporting Actor: I agree with 3 out of 5
Best Original Script: I agree with 1 out of 5
Best Adapted Script: I agree with 1 out of 5
Best Cinematography: I agree with 2 out of 5
Best Original Score: I agree with 1 out of 5
Best Song: From the 39 original songs that qualified, the geniuses in the music
branch found only 2 songs that they consider worthy contenders.
(Work from Elton John, Lady Gaga, Mary J. Blige, Madonna and others didn’t meet
their standards!)

I take major exception the the failure of recognition for the following:
Tate Taylor’s adapted script for THE HELP
Dustin Lance Black for original script of J. EDGAR
David Fincher for best directing THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO
Steven Spielberg for best directing WAR HORSE
The adapted script for THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO
Leonardo DiCaprio as best actor in J. EDGAR
Michael Fassbender as best actor in SHAME
Armie Hammer as best supporting actor for J. EDGAR
Ryan Gosling as best actor for DRIVE and/or THE IDES OF MARCH
Carey Mulligan as best supporting actress in DRIVE and/or SHAME
Albert Brooks as best supporting actor in DRIVE
DRIVE received only one nomination (sound) ignoring score, editing, acting
J. EDGAR was totally ignored
THE HELP was not nominated for best costumes, score, song, writing
BRIDESMAIDS was not nominated for best costumes
HANNA was totally ignored including cinematography, sound, score, editing
THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO was not recognized for score, costumes,
make-up
SUPER 8 was totally ignored, especially visual effects, sound, editing
WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN was totally ignored…acting, editing
50/50 was totally ignored…script, acting
SHAME was totally ignored including cinematography, editing, score, acting

Point One: For any film to get a Best Picture Nomination, 5% of voting members of the entire Academy must select that film as THE BEST film of the year. The Academy has about 4000 members…meaning at least 200 must have selected EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE as the best film of the year. Go figure.

Point Two: I need somebody that fully understands film directing to explain to me just exactly what it is about the job Woody Allen does for MIDNIGHT IN PARIS that makes it superior to David Fincher’s masterful work on THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO and the genius of Steven Spielberg handling WAR HORSE.

AND…
DO THE MEMBERS OF THE VARIOUS ACADEMY BRANCHES EVER BOTHER TO SEE/CONSIDER ACCOMPLISHMENTS IN THEIR AREA FOR ANY FILM EXCEPT THE MOST LIKELY TEN OR SO HIGH PROFILE FILMS?

Film 2009 As Seen By Wayne Case

Wayne Case — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 17:08:11 +0000

Best Films
(Alphabetical)
(500) DAYS OF SUMMER
AVATAR
THE BURNING PLAIN
AN EDUCATION
THE HANGOVER
THE HURT LOCKER
INVICTUS
THE MESSENGER
STAR TREK
THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Runners-Up
(Alphabetical)
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG
PRECIOUS
A SINGLE MAN
UP IN THE AIR
Honorable Mentions
(Alphabetical)
THE BLIND SIDE
DUPLICITY
I LOVE YOU, MAN
THE MYSTERIES OF PITTSBURGH
THE PROPOSAL
STATE OF PLAY
SURROGATES
Guilty Pleasure
THE INFORMERS
Worst Films
(Alphabetical)
ADVENTURELAND
AWAY WE GO
BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT
THE BOX
BRIDE WARS
COCO BEFORE CHANEL
COUPLES RETREAT
GHOSTS OF GIRLFRIEND PAST
HUMPDAY
THE INFORMANT!
JENNIFER’S BODY
THE LOSS OF A TEARDROP DIAMOND
NEW IN TOWN
OBSERVE AND REPORT
TETRO
TWO LOVERS
SORORITY ROW
But Not For Me
(In spite of overwhelming amounts of positive feedback from serious critics, I beg to differ about the following. Consider this the minority report.)
INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
DISTRICT 9
Best Actor
(In order of preference)
(1) Jeremy Renner, THE HURT LOCKER
(2) Colin Firth, A SINGLE MAN
(3) Ben Foster, THE MESSENGER
(4) Morgan Freeman, INVICTUS
(5) Jeff Bridges, CRAZY HEART
(6) Joseph Gordon-Levitt, (500) DAYS OF SUMMER
(7) Hugh Dancy, ADAM
(8) George Clooney, UP IN THE AIR
(9) Paul Rudd, I LOVE YOU, MAN
(10) Clive Owen, DUPLICITY
(11) Peter Sarsgaard, AN EDUCATION
(12) Rupert Friend, THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Best Supporting Actor
(Alphabetical)
Matt Damon, INVICTUS
Woody Harrelson, THE MESSENGER
Anthony Mackie, THE HURT LOCKER
Alfred Molina, AN EDUCATION
Christoph Waltz, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
and
Alec Baldwin, IT’S COMPLICATED
Paul Bettany, THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Dominic Cooper, AN EDUCATION
Brian Geraghty, THE HURT LOCKER
Joe Head, THE BLIND SIDE
Stanley Tucci, THE LOVELY BONES
Best Actress
(Alphabetical)
Emily Blunt, THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Sandra Bullock, THE BLIND SIDE
Carey Mulligan, AN EDUCATION
Gaborone Sidibe, PRECIOUS
Meryl Streep, JULIE & JULIA
Charlize Theron, THE BURNING PLAIN
and
Julia Roberts, DUPLICITY
Renee Zellweger, MY ONE AND ONLY
Best Supporting Actress
(Alphabetical)
Kim Basinger, THE BURNING PLAIN
Vera Farmiga, UP IN THE AIR
Mo’Nique, PRECIOUS
Julianne Moore, A SINGLE MAN
Samantha Morton, THE MESSENGER
and
Anna Kendrick, UP IN THE AIR
Paula Patton, PRECIOUS
Rosamund Pike, AN EDUCATION
Susan Sarandon, THE LOVELY BONES
Emma Thompson, AN EDUCATION
Olivia Williams, AN EDUCATION
Best Director
(In order of preference)
(1) Kathryn Bigelow for THE HURT LOCKER
(2) James Cameron for AVATAR
(3) Clint Eastwood for INVICTUS
(4) Oren Moverman for THE MESSENGER
(5) Lone Scherfig for AN EDUCATION
Best Cinematography
(In order of preference)
(1) AVATAR
(2) THE HURT LOCKER
(3) A SINGLE MAN
(4) (500) DAYS OF SUMMER
(5) STAR TREK
(6) THE MESSENGER
Best Original Script
(Alphabetical)
(500) DAYS OF SUMMER
AVATAR
THE BURNING PLAIN
THE HANGOVER
THE HURT LOCKER
THE MESSENGER
Best Adapted Script
(Alphabetical)
AN EDUCATION
INVICTUS
PRECIOUS
A SINGLE MAN
STAR TREK
UP IN THE AIR
Best Original Song
“Only You” from THE YOUNG VICTORIA
and (Alphabetical)
ADAM, “When You Find Me”
AVATAR, “I See You”
DUPLICITY, “Being Bad”
AN EDUCATION, “You’ve Got Me Wrapped Around Your Little Finger”
THE HANGOVER, “Stu’s Song”
HANNA MONTANA THE MOVIE, “Back To Tennessee”
INVICTUS, “9000 Days”
INVICTUS, “Colorblind”
MY ONE AND ONLY, “My One And Only”
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG, “Almost There”
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG, “Down In New Orleans”
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG, “Ma Belle Evangeline”
Best Original Music/Score
(Alphabetical by film title)
(500) DAYS OF SUMMER
INVICTUS
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG
A SINGLE MAN
STAR TREK
THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Best Costumes
(Alphabetical)
THE BLIND SIDE
AN EDUCATION
A SINGLE MAN
THE YOUNG VICTORIA
Best Editing
(In order of preference)
(1) THE MESSENGER
(2) THE HURT LOCKER
(3) (500) DAYS OF SUMMER
Best Sound
(Alphabetical)
AVATAR
THE HURT LOCKER
THE MESSENGER
STAR TREK
Special Awards 2009
The Sly Stallone/Ar-nuld Schwarzenegger Worst Performance by an Actor Award:
Joaquin Phoenix in TWO LOVERS
The Michelle Phillips/Cornelia Sharpe/Angel Tompkins Worst Performance by an Actress Award:
Kate Hudson in BRIDE WARS
Kristen Stewart in THE TWILIGHT SAGA: NEW MOON
The Heaven’s Gate Budget Award: 2012
The Otto Preminger “Light Touch” Award:
BRUNO
OBSESSED
The Sam Peckinpah “Wretched Excess” Award: INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS
The Sidney Lumet Miscasting Award:
Male –
Matt Damon in THE INFORMANT!
Female –
Naomi Watts in THE INTERNATIONAL
The Surgeon General’s Warning Award:
Sigourney Weaver in AVATAR
AMELIA
EASY VIRTUE
The John Hartl Stop-Them-Before-They-Direct-Again Worst Director Award:
James Gray for TWO LOVERS
Peter Hyams for BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT
The Bill Lee Worst Musical Scoring Award: Marvin Hamlisch for THE INFORMANT!
The Blind-As-A-Bat Worst Cinematography Award: Peter Hyams for BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT
The Joan Crawford as “Johnny Guitar” Take-No-Prisoners Acting Award:
Eric Bana in FUNNY PEOPLE
Beyonce Knowles in OBSESSED
Ali Larter in OBSESSED
Dennis Quaid in G.I. JOE: THE RISE OF COBRA
The Ellen Terry Awards
Note: Awarded to those providing extra and or unexpected pleasure.
Male (Alphabetical)
Ben Barnes, EASY VIRTUE
Asher Book, FAME
Gerard Butler, THE UGLY TRUTH
Henry Cavill, WHATEVER WORKS
Hugh Dancy, CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPAHOLIC
Aaron Eckhart, LOVE HAPPENS
Evan Ellingson, MY SISTER’S KEEPER
Chris Evans, THE LOSS OF A TEARDROP DIAMOND
Jon Foster, THE INFORMERS & THE MYSTERIES OF PITTSBURGH
Matthew Goode, A SINGLE MAN
Bruce Greenwood, STAR TREK
Chris Hemsworth, STAR TREK & A PERFECT GETAWAY
Nicholas Hoult, A SINGLE MAN
Jon Kortajarena, A SINGLE MAN
Ashton Kutcher, SPREAD
James Marsden, THE BOX
Chris Pine, STAR TREK
J.D. Pardo, THE BURNING PLAIN
Zachary Quinto, STAR TREK
Ryan Reynolds, THE PROPOSAL & X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE
Karl Urban, STAR TREK
Andrew Wilson, WHIP IT
Sam Worthington, TERMINATOR: SALVATION
Female (Alphabetical)
Jennifer Aniston, LOVE HAPPENS
Kim Basinger, THE INFORMERS
Moon Bloodgood, TERMINATOR: SALVATION
Rose Byrne, ADAM
Mariah Carey, PRECIOUS
Jennifer Cody, THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG (voice only)
Jennifer Connelly, HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU
Zooey Deschanel, (500) DAYS OF SUMMER
Cameron Diaz, MY SISTER’S KEEPER
Isla Fisher, CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPAHOLIC
Tracy Garner, THE HANGOVER
Ginnifer Goodwin, HE’S JUST NOT… & A SINGLE MAN
Katherine Heigl, THE UGLY TRUTH
Evangeline Lilly, THE HURT LOCKER
Jane Lynch, JULIE & JULIA
Helen Mirren, STATE OF PLAY
Jena Malone, THE MESSENGER
Winona Ryder, STAR TREK
Sofia Vassilieva, MY SISTER’S KEEPER
Rachel Weisz, THE LOVELY BONES

Redacted

Wayne Case — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Redacted, the Golden Lion winner at the Venice Film Festival and a polarizing selection at several other major festivals this fall is the latest film by iconoclastic director Brian De Palma. It revisits territory he once explored in the Vietnam War picture Casualties of War–the psychological horror of war on its participants and the evisceration of the innocents caught in the conflict when soldiers snap from the pressure of combat.
Redacted is gaining momentum more these days for the polemic reaction it incites in the audiences that view it. It’s been some time since I’ve witnessed a film’s reception that’s inspired such intense arguments. I applaud that end result of this film, though I must be honest and admit that I wish the debate were over a more well made film.
De Palma’s impetus for this film lies right in its title. He feels that the truth about the Iraq War has been kept from the American public. It’s been redacted on the nightly news, in your morning paper and on the web, not to mention your local Cineplex. De Palma sets out to confront our sensibilities and reveal the curtain on the raw, uncensored images we are afraid to gaze upon the war. It’s a mission into the furious and violent side of our collective impotence over the war and its effect on our treasured sense of imperial morality.
These are fabulous themes and imperatives. They mean to provoke insights about our motives at this stage of the conflict and the lingering effects our actions, as individuals and a nation, have made on the foreign people and culture we claim to be liberating. Even De Palma’s construct for the film is noble. A noted formalist, De Palma eschews the usual cinematic conventions he’s known for employing so deftly in his films and constructs a array of so called “found” footage (though it’s all constructed and fictional)–handheld cameras, video blog postings, websites, surveillance cameras and this strange mock French documentary. It’s intended as a tour through new media, and often the sources by which we gain our most unfiltered news and reportage.
This is all the good, or rather, the respectable that I see in Redacted. Respect is a much better word. I have respect for what De Palma is reaching for with this picture. He does not shy away from the broadside he unleashes on the growing American moral paralysis in regards to the war in Iraq. That takes guts, which is rarely seen these days in popular art. Redacted is an extremely angry, raw, unapologetic and disruptive document.
Unfortunately, at the heart of Redacted, the issues, is a poorly made film that undermines the overall impact of the picture and the issues it raises. De Palma sees fit to run out every shop worn, cinematic “platoon at war” story and character cliché on record. The film’s characters range from: the bookish nerd, the earnest boy-scout, the ignorant brute, the malevolent would be socio-path and the minority character with a plan to raise his station in life when he gets home. It’s tiresome and irresponsible filmmaking from such a talented filmmaker. De Palma crafted the script and unfortunately it is one of the weakest elements of the film. Characters lack any ambiguity, or moral conflict. They are walking and talking debates colliding against each other in rigid dramatic scenes that offer little or room for the audience to connect with anyone in the film–good or bad.
In addition the acting is completely substandard. It never rises above movie of the week territory. Also, because of the “found footage’ construct of the piece, all sense of emotional connection to anything in the story–character or event–is blocked. It makes for a strangely cold, bitter film on certain levels that’s so emotionally bleak and without balance that it ultimately corrupts the impact of its arguments. By the time you reach the penultimate act of the story, which is the rape and brutal murder of a young girl by sadistic and drunk American soldiers, you feel so brutalized and misused that the film’s intent with it–to bring you to this truthful horror of war and therefore some sense of insight about the war itself and our role in it–is completely lost.
Redacted is Brian De Palma’s attempt to unsettle and shock American audience into addressing the Iraq War at its most honest and raw levels. It’s a furious attempt by him to rattle the collective cage and break those that view it from the moral impotence he believes they’re locked in. Unfortunately it’s a heavy handed, clumsy and ultimately impenetrable piece of cinematic storytelling. I applaud the conviction De Palma brings to this work. I respect him for the issues he addresses. I just wish he had made a movie worth watching in the process.

Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten

Wayne Case — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten begins with rare, archival footage of Strummer recording the vocals for the early Clash song “White Riot.” The footage is a cappella and in black and white. Strummer spits out the lyrics with unmitigated fury, barely tethered to the microphone. Each word rips out of his throat with molotov cocktail intensity. Stripped of the music, it’s an incredibly visceral flashcard lesson in what matters most in rock n’ roll–that it moves you to your core.
That is the Clash’s greatest legacy in rock n’ roll. They struck that primal chord of action in you. They did it with their maelstrom of intensity. They did it with unapologetic creative curiosity. They did it with the cocky swagger of youth and the sinewy wisdom of hard won experience. At the heart of it all was the rallying point of Joe Strummer voice. It’s the voice of a complex and remarkable man fueled by an undying love of music and a restless hunger to connect with his fellow man. It’s this man, and his immense influence on the lives of others, that Julien Temple’s profoundly captivating documentary, Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten, renders in such a fantastic way.
Temple launches, from that striking opening musical footage into Strummer’s formative years. It’s a kind of “how did we get there?” moment. Though, to his credit, Temple doesn’t fall into the standard chronological telling of the story. Instead, he orchestrates animation, early family films, audio interviews he conducted with Strummer as early as 1976, and industrial film footage to illustrate the seeds of the man to be. It’s an impressionistic look at the key influences that give birth to and shaped Strummer’s populist drive for community and his deep-seated distrust of institutional prejudices. Key among these influential early moments is the suicide of his older brother, who had fallen in with Neo-Nazis before his unexpected death.
From there Temple documents Strummer’s early wandering days, his passion and pursuit of music in his life, his early success with his first London band The 101′ers. Key in this first half tale is Strummer’s early hippie lifestyle and time spent among squatters in late 60′s, early 70′s London. It’s a fabulous portion of Strummer’s life that doesn’t often enter the discussion of his life. It truly illustrates his “one for all, all for one” sense of community and presents an unadulterated look into the importance of that ethos in his life at such a formative stage.
Of course, Strummer was a complex man, who often bedeviled those he loved, just as much as he inspired him. That’s most obvious when he turns his back on the squatters community and his old band, The 101′ers, by joining the Clash and transforming himself into Joe Strummer in the midst of the exploding punk scene of mid 70′s London. It’s here that Temple’s investigation into the essence of Joe Strummer pivots to tell a much deeper story than simply who Joe Strummer was and why.
As the Clash rises and then implodes, Temple tracks Strummer through this peak in his life and music with a collage of archival footage along with personal remembrances of bandmates, fans and friends around bonfires. It’s in this legendary part of Strummer’s story and its inevitable aftermath that the deeper thrust of the picture comes clear. Temple follows Strummer out into the wanderlust that follows for him after the Clash’s demise. In it and against the legacy of the Clash, Strummer wrestles with his deeper convictions–community, speaking for those that can’t, and staying true to one’s beliefs–in the light of his actions in pursuit of fame and getting his message out there. It’s here that the man behind the myth is captured most deftly by Temple’s documentary. His essence is unfurled against the background of his many accomplishments and you truly get a sense of why he touched so many people with his words and music.
Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwritten is a wonderful accomplishment by Julien Temple. To capture so many sides of this man and then to orchestrate such a heartfelt and complete depiction of him in the process is magnificent. Temple shows virtuoso command of the documentary form with the orchestration of so many of Strummer’s avowed beliefs in simple choices in the construction of the film–setting his interviewers around bonfires, which Strummer espoused as a means of community bonding, the simple boom box coupled with Strummer’s voice from his BBC radio show book ending segments. All in all this is a must see picture, an incredible tale of an incredible man. Do yourself a favor and catch Julien Temple’s Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten. It’s bound to move you, too.

Black Irish

Wayne Case — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Family is the gauntlet we pass through from childhood into adulthood. It’s what defines us. It’s also what we have to break free from in some fashion–either dramatic or not–to become wholly realized as individuals. Yet that rite of passage is freighted with the knowledge that breaking free of it never fully happens. Where we came from will always be a part of who we are. Blood is indeed thicker than water.
It’s this turn into manhood and all the struggles that come with it that Black Irish, written and directed by Brad Gann (Invincible), draws its story from. Gann displays his considerable skill as a storyteller with a finely nuanced script and shows promise as a director (it’s his directorial debut) with his mostly excellent handling of a strong, talented cast. Altogether, he turns in an engaging picture that makes up for its ruggedness with a sharp story told with confidence and clarity.
Fifteen-year-old Cole McKay, (Michael Angaranno from Sky High, Lords of Dogtown), is a dutiful son. He’s the youngest of three siblings in a hard luck working class Irish family in Boston. He’s the good son in the shadow of his angry, petty thieving older brother Terry (Mystic River‘s Tom Guiry). Cole works hard in school. He seems determined to enter the Priesthood, yet he’s got talent as a baseball player. Where we catch up with Cole in Black Irish, is where that coming of age transition hits him and his world–his family–is turned upside down. When it does he makes the difficult transformation to manhood, despite the rigors of his rough and tumble family.
Looming larger than life in Cole’s way is his hard drinking, temperamental father, Desmond (played beautifully by Brendan Gleeson from Harry Potter and Braveheart). Desmond sees all the good things he hoped he would be in Cole and therefore can’t bring himself to open up his heart to his youngest son. This emotional distance haunts Cole through the story as he struggles to find ways he can connect with his father. The two share a love of baseball and its there, on the diamond, that Cole most hungers for his father’s approval, but can’t seem to earn it.
Woven into their story are several excellent sub-plots, most notably one that deals with the painful divide between a mother and a daughter caught on opposite sides of a generation gap. Margaret (played by Melissa Leo, 21 Grams), the mother of the Cole family, imparts upon her daughter, Kathleen (played by Everwood‘s Emily Vancamp) a code of ethics that Kathleen’s not completely certain she believes in. The two clash over who’s right and who’s wrong–highlighting that generational gap in their personal conflict. Both actresses bring tense and complex layers to their story, building it into deeply felt crescendo.
Overall, Black Irish displays a strong story and a strong cast doing confident work. Brad Gann’s best decisions as a first-time director were to let his story tell itself and to cast his picture with this fine company of actors. The picture does have its rough edges–notably the cinematography that starts off evocative and distinct, but seems to settle into an afterschool special feel towards the end. All in all Black Irish–written and directed by Brad Gann–is a sharp coming of age drama with a story that captures the essence of family and the conflict they generate that turns us into who we are and how that stays with us for the rest of our adult lives. Blood is, indeed, thicker than water.

Terror’s Advocate

Wayne Case — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Director Barbet Schroeder (Single White Female, Reversal of Fortune, Barfly) has long concerned himself with capturing “Human Monsters” – both fictional and real. In his earlier documentary work, his subjects ranged from Idi Amin to Klaus Von Bulow and Charles Bukowski. With Terror’s Advocate, he returns to non-fiction for the first time in nearly twenty years, with one of his most complex and haunting portraits of a “Human Monster” to date, devil’s advocate Jacques Verges.
Jacques Verges is a lawyer best known for defending some of the world’s most terrible criminals. His client list has included Pol Pot, Slobodan Milosevic, Carlos The Jackal, Nazi lieutenant Klaus Barbie, Magdalena Kopp, and Anis Naccache. He’s a man despised for his courtroom tactics and professional successes, not to mention his choice of friends and his severe anti-colonial beliefs. His life is a stockpile of divisive material. Schroeder doesn’t shy away from a thorough portrait of the man. Instead, he weaves Verges story into an intellectually sprawling treatise on the evolution of modern terrorism.
Verges was born in Thailand in 1925 to a Vietnamese mother and a Reunion Island father. It’s this racially and culturally diverse background that provides the fertile ground for the development of his anti-colonial beliefs, which define his life and form the basis for his illustrious career. Verges rise to prominence begins in Algiers in 1957 shortly after the Battle of Algiers. There he takes on the case of Algerian terrorist, Djamila Bouhired, who planted the infamous Milk-Bar bomb, one of several attacks that serve as key turning points in Algiers battle for independence from France.
Held and tortured for seventeen days, Bouhired became a symbol of her country’s quest for freedom from colonial France. She was found guilty and sentenced to death. Verges was assigned her defense and immediately orchestrated an international media campaign that transformed her into an international symbol of oppression. Then with a relentless and combative defense in the courtroom he won a highly improbable pardon for her. After Bouhired was released, she married him and had two children with him. The marriage led to the brief demise of his legal career and, then, in an even stranger twist, his eventual disappearance for ten years.
When Verges surfaces after ten years in France, he takes on the defense of Magdalena Kopp, Carlos the Jackal, Klaus Barbie and many more. It’s the most public and vilified portion of his career. He also repeats old tendencies and becomes involved in client’s lives – most notably Magdalena Kopp who was married at the time to Carlos the Jackal. They have an affair, but unlike before, Kopp rebukes Verges after he wins her release from prison.
The disappearance is crucial to Terror’s Advocate. It’s hard to avoid the question: where did Verges go? There are many theories, but no answers. Verges, for one, is definitely not saying which only heightens the mystery considering his connections. Some say he went to Cambodia to be with Pol Pot, or Russia, or PLO camps, but no one knows for sure. Schroeder uses the question, in a subtle way, as an intellectual leaping off point. He investigates, but doesn’t force a conclusion from his subject. Instead, he’s content to let the possibilities hang in the air – which serve as a rundown of every extremist political movement in the 70’s, the time of the disappearance. Schroeder’s point is clear. It’s a chilling thought that this one man, this lawyer, largely connects these key movements, and the figures at the head of them, in the evolution of modern terrorism. In effect all terrible roads converge on him and Schroeder is confident enough to let you decide to what degree Verges was involved, or served these different terrorists and movements beyond the courtroom.
Terror’s Advocate is classical in its construction. It’s mainly talking heads, interviews with Verges (who amazingly consented to the documentary) and other key players in his life and work. The documentary is devoid of narration or title cards to provide context or organization. This has a strange, but welcomed side effect in creating a deeper emotional resonance to the story. Removed from the immediate context of their political movements, some of the aging terrorist’s, and even Verges at times, speak almost nostalgically of days gone by, the passion of youth and the involvement they had in each other’s lives. It’s most notable in the section on Verges defense of Djamila Bouhired and his defense of Magdalena Kopp, where personal feelings run the deepest.
One complaint, though, is the sprawling nature of the subject matter. In many ways, Terror’s Advocate could have been split into two documentaries. It is vast in scope and thick with facts and history. This is a double-edged sword for Schroeder. On the one hand it gives the film a complex and intellectually challenging thrust, welcomed in regard to the subject that’s depicted. On the other hand, at times, it seems like the documentary suffers under the weight of too much information. Certain portions of Verges life felt skimmed over, touched by only brief glimpses of potentially intriguing experiences. Overall, though, Schroeder presents a compelling portrait of a difficult man. Verges never relents or breaks down through the course of his interview, determined to keep control on his public persona, and to stand by his political views and actions. Yet, in the end, Schroeder captures the monster within and crafts a chilling depiction of his life and times, that educates and enlightens on every level.

Lars and the Real Girl

Wayne Case — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

What is it about Ryan Gosling’s career as an actor? This man obviously has a tremendous amount of talent, yet it seems to only shine brightest in small films. His big picture resume is littered with movies like Fracture, Stay and The Notebook, among others. Not necessarily bad movies, but not necessarily great movies, either. Then his small picture resume is studded with standouts like Half-Nelson, The United States of Leland and The Slaughter Rule. All are fabulous performances in challenging roles.
Add his performance as Lars in Lars and the Real Girl to that list, though, to be fair, Gosling is not the only fantastic performance or brilliant element to this magical film. I do believe that he may find himself nominated as a surprise pick for best actor just like last year for Half-Nelson. It’s that good of a performance in that wonderful of a film. Lars and the Real Girl may very well get lost in the shuffle of the fall’s bigger release–which, although not too surprising, is still a terrible shame. It’s definitely the biggest surprise so far this year. It’s a film with such a wonderful sense of humor and mighty heart, that’s deeply affecting with its rich characters and unexpected depth of emotion.
Lars lives in the garage apartment behind the home of his brother, Gus (Paul Schneider) and sister-in-law, Karin (Emily Mortimer). The house sits in a snow bound, Midwesternesque small town. Gus and Karin see Lars through different eyes–Karin’s determined to mother Lars despite his obvious anti-social behavior; Gus finds it difficult to directly communicate with Lars, the events of their childhood hangs like static between them. Lars works a nondescript office job and attends Sunday service. He’s a quiet man, somewhat offbeat, but well liked by the townsfolk despite his intense shyness and disdain for human contact.
Of course, if you’ve seen the trailer you know the general conceit that drives the story. Lars falls for a life-sized silicone doll he locates on the Internet. This isn’t what it may seem and to his credit director Craig Gillespie never descends into the cheap or tawdry. There are reasons why Lars falls for the doll. Reasons I won’t get into because they’re too germane to the narrative wonder of this rich fable. Suffice to say it’s not a cheap story device played strictly for laughs, no matter how the trailer depicts it. There is a heart here, and in many ways the doll is that heart.
Lars presents the doll as his new girlfriend Bianca to Gus and Karin. Their shock gives way to deep concern, as the delusion Lars perpetuates with Bianca doesn’t subsist, but rather grows. Bianca has a backstory, a life’s history, which Lars recounts to them over dinner matter of factly. He implores them to let Bianca stay in their spare room, because it wouldn’t be proper for them to sleep together under the same roof. From here a truly magical journey evolves as the whole town eventually becomes involved in Bianca and Lars’ “relationship” out of love and concern for Lars.
I won’t go too much further into detail about the story. Suffice to say it never heads in the direction that you’d expect. The screenplay, by former Six Feet Under scribe Nancy Oliver, is a fantastic piece of writing. The humor is honest and unobtrusive. It’s characters never cloying or annoying. It walks a wonderfully fine line between pure emotion and just enough idiosyncratic nuances to make the whole story soar.
The performances are some of the best that you’ll see all year. Gosling gives another complex and detailed performance as a fractured man in need of understanding. Paul Schneider is amazing as Lars’ older brother, Gus. His reactions provide much of the comedy in the first half, then his struggle to understand Lars provides so much of the quiet drama in the second half. He gives such a tempered performance. I don’t think the film would work as well without the restraint he shows in his Gus. Emily Mortimer, much like Ryan Gosling, seems to do her best work in the smaller films she performs in. I’d say, without a doubt, that her work here is by far and a way the most heartfelt and natural acting she’s ever provided. There’s one soliloquy (for lack of a better term) of hers as Karin towards the end of the film that was wrenching and gorgeous to witness.
Lars and the Real Girl is one of those rare films that seems to have it all–true performances, a unique and powerful story and the right mix of emotion. That wouldn’t be possible without the director, Craig Gillepsie. In a surprising turn after he directed (though it was largely reshot after he was replaced from it) this year’s Mr. Woodcock, he counters with this spare, perfectly paced picture. He brings all the elements together and then weaves them into a spellbinding picture. It’s an unexpected, but much appreciated bit of career turnabout from Mr. Gillespie.
In the end, if I have one request of you this fall season; take a chance and go see Lars and the Real Girl, directed by Craig Gillepsie, written by Nancy Oliver and strarring Ryan Gosling. I don’t care what you think, if you’ve seen the trailer. I don’t care what you might be expecting. This movie will surprise and engage in ways you can’t imagine. It’s a deeply felt picture, with marvelous performance, a true gem. In the end, movies this good just don’t come along every day.

My Kid Could Paint That

Wayne Case — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Every good mystery hungers in some way to be solved. A question presents itself, clues are hunted down and answers are deduced from them to somehow answer that initial question. Not all mysteries can be solved, though. Sometimes the facts are distorted, or a key piece of evidence is missing–the puzzle is incomplete if you will. That isn’t to say that usually there isn’t some opinion on what the answer might be, given the recognizable facts.
My Kid Could Paint That, a documentary by Amir Bar Levy, wants you to believe it’s a mystery. The question begging to be solved: Who painted these high priced canvasses? The only problem is that Levy resists the answer right in front of him. He resists the very answer he seems to be leaning towards. Instead, he wallows in the grey area of asking the question, and ultimately, what the effect of asking such a question has on him. It’s an unfortunate choice, that is simply more than this documentary can take.
The artist at the center of My Kid Could Paint That‘s mystery is Marla Olmstead. She’s only four years old when her work creates a big splash in the modern art world and begins to sell for superstar prices. Touted as a child prodigy, her story attracts immediate attention from the national media, including the New York Times, and her seemingly sweet and naïve parents, Mark and Laura Olmstead, find their lives and their family thrust into the spotlight.
At the start of all of this the Olmstead’s grant Levy full access to their lives. He spends the better part of a year in the intimate space of their Binghamton, New York home; as well as Marla’s splashy, big gallery openings and talk show appearances. He gets as close as he can to Marla, and to her younger brother, Zane. Even sleeping over at the house at one point, due in part to the insistence of Laura and Mark, to capture more naturally Marla’s daily routine and to seek some answers to painful questions that were raised in the course of her story.
This extreme closeness plays well in the first half of the documentary. It’s readily apparent that Levy initially set out to do a piece on the nature of Modern Art and its oft-derided identity in our cultural landscape. Even the title, My Kid Could Paint That, speaks to this first focus for the picture. He captures Marla, an innocent child almost oblivious to what she’s achieved at the art gallery openings. He interviews collectors who extol the virtue of her work and intersperses that with ruminations on what modern art is by New York Times art critic Michael Kimmelman.
Then, about halfway through the documentary, that same closeness turns on Levy when a Sixty Minutes II segment refutes the authenticity of Marla’s work. The implication the piece makes quite clearly is that Marla’s father, Mark, a frustrated, amateur painter, helped her. Offered into evidence is expert testimonial and that a Sixty Minutes hidden camera couldn’t capture Marla at work on a canvas.
Marla’s subsequent descent is as rapid as her ascent. Her parents find themselves vilified. Unfortunately, Levy can’t resist inserting himself into the piece at this juncture. At one telling moment, he interviews himself in his car as he leaves the Olmsteads and admits that he now has serious reservations about the veracity of Marla’s story; yet he can’t admit that to the Olmsteads for fear of what it might mean to the documentary. It’s a chilling moment to me, an example of premeditated exploitation.
It’s this moment that signals the undoing of My Kid Could Paint That‘s second half. From here on out it’s almost difficult to watch, as we’re aware of Levy’s deeper priority–keeping the documentary going, as opposed to illuminating the truth. It all grows more complicated as he flirts with answers and his opinion, but steadfastly refuses to commit to any of them. He offers evidence. He submits to make a tape of his own of Marla at work. Eventually, still fully trusting him, Mark and Laura Olmstead pin their hopes on Levy and his documentary helping them to refute the accusations. Sadly, Levy intimates to outsiders that he may have changed his mind about Marla, but steadfastly refuses to indicate his true feelings to the Olmsteads, even when the chance arises and it seems necessary that he should instead of lingering and exploiting their misery.
It’s a regrettable choice that Amir Bar Levy makes; refusing to offer his answers or thoughts on the mystery he concocts in the first half of My Kid Could Paint That. By the time he forces himself to the center of his own documentary, we’re already toying with our own answers and ideas to the central question of the whodunit behind Marla’s work. It’s terrible to see the devastation on Mark and Laura Olmstead’s faces when he finally does come forward, way too late to atone for his actions. In the end it mars what could have been a powerful piece on the nature of modern art, genius and prodigies. Instead, in the end, we’re left with a film about a filmmaker and the damage he can do with his camera when he puts his own needs ahead of his story.

Into the Wild

Wayne Case — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

At a critical emotional juncture of Into the Wild, directed and adapted by Sean Penn from Jon Krakauer’s bestselling book of the same name, Christopher McCandless, a.k.a Alexander Supertramp (Emile Hirsch), defends his actions to Jan (Catherine Keener), a fellow wanderer and his sometimes surrogate mom, with the Thoreau quote above. In a sentence it provides a clear thrust for Penn’s adaptation of McCandless’ story. It’s spoken defensively in response to Jan’s strong concerns over McCandless’ complete break from his real family, which provides the central conflict of the film and a more personal take on McCandless’ life than Krakauer’s book.
Christopher McCandless graduated from college in 1990. He was a bright kid from an affluent suburb of Washington D.C. with a wide-open future in front of him. After graduation, unbeknownst to his family, he donated his life savings of $24,000 dollars to OXFAM and struck out across America in a battered old car with a backpack’s worth of possessions and the money in his wallet. He soon abandoned the car, burned the money in his wallet, and changed his name to Alexander Supertramp. He would never speak to his family again. What ensued was a two-year journey along the fringes of society and into the great outdoors. A rugged search for the truth in his existence inspired by his favorite writers Tolstoy and London, among others. He would keep journals and touch lives on his way to an unfortunate death at 24 in the wilds of Alaska.
Noted nonfiction writer and adventurer, Jon Krakauer took up McCandless’s story in an article for Outdoor Magazine in 1993. He was taken with the story, and the deeper themes of the wilderness’ place in the collective American imagination, the complex dynamic between fathers and sons and the allure of high-risk adventure to certain types of people. From those elements he crafted the bestseller Into The Wild. Intrigued by the stark image of the “Magic Bus” (the abandoned bus McCandless would live and die in) on the cover, Penn bought the book, was captivated by the story and spent ten years working to secure the rights and adapt it.
The film is fueled by Penn’s devotion to telling the story. It’s a startling departure from Penn’s previous work as a director. The fractured darkness that runs through his more celebrated work as an actor and was expounded upon in his first three films (The Indian Runner, The Crossing Guard and The Pledge) still exists. But with that darkness came a certain kind of cynicism that lent his work an opaque rawness that was an acquired taste. Into the Wild is far more populist than Penn’s previous work. Though it’s laced with the same darkness, Penn reaches for something different through it–a quiet sense of tragic hope.
Penn achieves this by breaking from formal structure in the film’s construction. Given the difficult task of adapting a young man’s mostly solitary journey into his soul; Penn turns to counterpoint voice over, impressionistic panoramic vistas, diary entries scrawled over those vistas and, most of all, music to illuminate the emotional register of the story. It’s a film that feels open with collaboration and scope, yet personal in drive and intent for better or worse. It’s more ambitious than anything the director has done previously.
For the record, the film shines most in the cinematography and the music. Eric Gautier’s camerawork strives through the panoramic to achieve the personal. The characters are not overwhelmed by the scenery, but woven into it tonally; and often we find ourselves close on their eyes glimpsing the wilderness within. Just as strong and important is the music, especially the original songs by Eddie Vedder. I’ll confess to not being a huge Pearl Jam fan, or even much of a casual one. Vedder’s work here is similar in impact on the narrative to Cat Stevens’ music in Harold and Maude. It’s a crucial element to the film. I can’t imagine the story without it. The undercurrent of hope in Into the Wild comes mostly from the beautiful collision of image and song.
Though it’s a strong film overall, it’s not without its flaws and problems. Chief among those is the performance of Emile Hirsch as Christopher McCandless, and the choices Sean Penn, the writer, makes in condensing the story for film. It’s hard to separate the two, in fact. In all fairness to Hirsch, on some levels he’s given a very limited character to play. He just doesn’t posses the range to overcome this hurdle. In all honesty, his performance grates after awhile and impedes the flow of the story.
Penn’s choice as screenwriter to strip away McCandless’ story to the bare bones and focus almost solely on his troubled relationship with his parents as the engine for his actions is at the root of static Hirsch’s performance. Penn’s choice works in the final climax of the picture, but falters often along the way to that moment. There are hints of more complex issues in the story–family, urbanization–but Penn falters at bringing them into the greater thrust of the narrative. Most of these moments are contained in some fabulous supporting performances. Most notably Catherine Keener as Jan, the hippie mother-figure to McCandless, and Hal Holbrook as Ron, a retiree who McCandless befriends and enlivens during his travels. Both give electric, subtle work to the narrative and provide crucial counterpoint to the story, unfortunately it’s counterpoint that’s squandered.
Into the Wild, directed and adapted by Sean Penn, is a messy, ambitious look at the more personal side of Christopher McCandless’ haunting life and story. It seeks to capture McCandless’ struggle to find the truth in his existence. Yet falls short by focusing almost solely on the fractured family life that served as just one motivation for McCandless adventure. In the end, though, the film fascinates with its use of image and music to capture the deeper emotion of McCandless’s journey into the great unknown.

A Mighty Heart

Wayne Case — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000

A Mighty Heart is framed by a voiceover from the film’s emotional core, Marianne Pearl (played by Angelina Jolie). In the opening segment, over brief titles and quick establishing shots, her words set the stage for the narrative to follow. She and her husband Daniel Pearl (played by Dan Futterman) are in Karachi, Pakistan, seeking an elusive source for an article that Daniel is writing for his paper, The Wall Street Journal. Against shots of the teeming, chaotic bustle of the city, the closing line of the opening voiceover is spoken: “How do you find one person against all of this?”
Those words serve as a kind of thesis statement for this sharp, deeply affecting emotional essay of a film from director Michael Winterbottom (Welcome to Sarajevo). In the larger context of the story, and through the wrenching search for Daniel Pearl after he is kidnapped, those words deepen greatly in meaning. The rhetorical question they ask becomes: “How do you find one soul against such a vicious ideological conflict?” It’s a question Winterbottom doesn’t want to answer so much as he wants you to know the frustration in asking it. In that he succeeds without a doubt.
Much has been made of the close proximity between the real events of stories like A Mighty Heart, or United 93 and World Trade Center, and their narrative counterparts. Some feel that it’s too soon to be creating what is essentially entertainment–albeit thought-provoking–from tragedies still prevalent in the cultural consciousness. To that end, many raise questions about the presence of an actress with the star caliber of Angelina Jolie in a film with such emotional and political concerns. Does her presence dilute the context of the story? Does her celebrity draw attention away from the reality of the events portrayed? There are endless debates in these questions. Arguments that ultimately belittle the accomplishments of director Michael Winterbottom, Angelina Jolie and the other fine actors in A Mighty Heart. They create together a deft piece of cinema that is true to the events that it draws from, while never overpowering those events emotionally or politically.
Stylistically, A Mighty Heart most resembles Winterbottom’s Welcome to Sarajevo and The Road to Guantanamo. In A Mighty Heart, he constructs a fast-paced docudrama that’s equal parts character study and police procedural. The tempo is quick and lean–shots whiz by in the early going and brief titles appear to orient you from time to time, but that’s it–not much is explained or set up outside the opening voiceover. In the end, the story feels more captured than constructed, though by no means is it raw. There’s a definite sense of polish and pace as the story hurtles to its bracing emotional climax.
Overall the police procedural elements give the film its most obvious electricity. They highlight the unsung hero of the picture, the fabulous performance of the great Indian actor Irfan Khan (The Namesake) as The Captain, the chief of Pakistan’s counterterrorism unit. For The Captain, the need to find Daniel Pearl, and return him safely, becomes an emotional mirror to Marriane Pearl’s need to find her husband. Where Marianne’s is a deeply personal need, The Captain’s is a political one that’s felt as personally and intimately as Marriane’s. He searches to save his country’s reputation, and yet, at every turn, he’s betrayed by that same country’s ideological schism. Khan plays this with a bristling mix of compassion and tenacity that allows the political aspect of the story to enter into the proceedings without overbearing the human tragedy of it.
Of course, there is Ms. Jolie’s performance as Marianne Pearl. As mentioned above, Marianne Pearl is–without a doubt–the emotional core of the film. It’s her memoir of the events, written with Sarah Crichton, that serves as the source material for the film. Ms. Jolie illuminates the personal nature of Marianne Pearl’s experience with a natural grace and unfettered poise that should serve as a quick reminder of her talents as an actress. The scene where she finally receives word of the fate of Daniel Pearl is, for me, one of the most honest and painful portrayals of grief ever captured in a film.
A Mighty Heart achieves many things. It’s faithful to the events that inspire the story. It features wonderful performances. The story is taut and engaging. Yet, the one thing I feel the film achieves most of all is that it elicits an honest emotional response. Though I knew the story, and its outcome, I felt through the latter half of the film completely immersed in the struggle to find Daniel Pearl–hoping against hope that they would find him in time. When Marianne reacts to word of Daniel’s fate, I was surprised at how deeply I felt the moment with her. In the end, it’s the greatest achievement, for me, of A Mighty Heart. It not only captures the events surrounding Daniel Pearl’s kidnapping and subsequent death, but also the emotions that coursed through those events. It’s those very emotions that lend the frustration to the rhetorical question poised at the start of the film: “How do you find one person against all of this?”