Saturday, April 8, 2006
These characters are foul and I don't believe them. I know 9/11, the Bush administration and whatever else you'd like to throw in has put us in a collective funk, but I do believe love will prevail--humanity has not turned as vindictive as these characters would like us to think.
Clint Eastwood is making it difficult for other directors to look good right now.
Saturday, April 8, 2006
Garden State - 2004 - DVD
Thursday, April 6, 2006
How many stationary head-on closeup shots can there be of Zach Braff? I don't know what to say except that this was boring and amateur. Film school first, then the silver screen.
How many stationary head-on closeup shots can there be of Zach Braff? I don't know what to say except that this was boring and amateur. Film school first, then the silver screen.
Tuesday, April 4, 2006
A Perfect World - 1993 - DVD
Sunday, April 2, 2006
There is a crystalline sense of wonder to Clint Eastwood's pictures that gives the darkest images a raw, beautiful quality. Blood and dirt do not seem as filthy as they are. There is a silvery highlight around the edges of some of the most base characters and objects. Even dust particles in the air catch this same celestial light. The lighting, and awkward overhead and ground-level camera angles slip us into crevices that make his films look like a dream. The manipulation of these technologies (i.e. lighting and camera) is the first thing I noticed about A Perfect World, which also coordinate with the film's narrative theme. The next thing I thought of while watching was the picture quality's resemblance to David Lynch's works. There was a moment when I was staring at a shot of the blue sky and green grass thinking it was akin to scenes from Blue Velvet (1986).
Lynch is well established as a director interested in the shadowy underside of things, where he presents the abstract and sublime beauty of darkness. There is an inherent element of fear in this, but also a kind of humor that reminds you that you are witnessing something of another consciousness; none of David Lynch's narratives seem wholly grounded in reality. Take, for example, the elderly couple in Mulholland Drive (2001) that arrive at the airport gabbing loudly in gaudy tourist clothing. These characters are social outcasts, and frightening in their detachment from their surroundings. At the same time, however, they appear more as parodies of themselves, which breaks that heavy tension.
Clint Eastwood's pictures seem to work similarly, though his characters become darker as the story progresses. As a starting point, the lead character, Butch (Kevin Costner), seems like an okay guy, a likeable man whose life was led astray by uncontrollable circumstances. Butch is sympathetic and we do not want to believe he is a true criminal. As time goes by his character's humor and caution show flaws; he turns dark and frightening, and the tension builds between him and his antagonists, as well as between him and Buzz (T.J. Lowther), the kidnapped boy-turned-companion, to a point of paralysis.
In the final scene in the grassy field the colors are saturated, yet slightly subdued by an overexposure of light. We see the deep red blood against Butch's white shirt, the clear blue sky, green grass and leaves on trees, but their coloring looks highlighted in white--not exactly faded or bleached, but given a superficial layer of light that accentuates the figure or character itself, like an aura. Butch, like many other characters in Eastwood's films, deals with making amends with his past, accepting responsibility for his mistakes, and repenting and moving forward peacefully. He tries to come to terms with what it means to be "good," and seems to need to correct his image in the face of God.
Unlike the tone to Lynch's stories, Eastwood's characters have little hope of resolve. Butch dies in the end. His past is not a history so much of traceable thematic events as it is an unqualified list of personal and circumstantial errors that ultimately defeat his future. Butch is constantly surrounded by this ethereal light as he shoots to kill, and when he is finally shot himself. The light distracts him from forgetting that he is being seen and judged, always and unrelentingly; his guide to salvation (and freedom) is as meager as the boy he kidnaps, and the burden of his conscience is too heavy to bear. Like Lynch, Eastwood shows us that there is fear in the dark, but that there is often more in the light.
There is a crystalline sense of wonder to Clint Eastwood's pictures that gives the darkest images a raw, beautiful quality. Blood and dirt do not seem as filthy as they are. There is a silvery highlight around the edges of some of the most base characters and objects. Even dust particles in the air catch this same celestial light. The lighting, and awkward overhead and ground-level camera angles slip us into crevices that make his films look like a dream. The manipulation of these technologies (i.e. lighting and camera) is the first thing I noticed about A Perfect World, which also coordinate with the film's narrative theme. The next thing I thought of while watching was the picture quality's resemblance to David Lynch's works. There was a moment when I was staring at a shot of the blue sky and green grass thinking it was akin to scenes from Blue Velvet (1986).
Lynch is well established as a director interested in the shadowy underside of things, where he presents the abstract and sublime beauty of darkness. There is an inherent element of fear in this, but also a kind of humor that reminds you that you are witnessing something of another consciousness; none of David Lynch's narratives seem wholly grounded in reality. Take, for example, the elderly couple in Mulholland Drive (2001) that arrive at the airport gabbing loudly in gaudy tourist clothing. These characters are social outcasts, and frightening in their detachment from their surroundings. At the same time, however, they appear more as parodies of themselves, which breaks that heavy tension.
Clint Eastwood's pictures seem to work similarly, though his characters become darker as the story progresses. As a starting point, the lead character, Butch (Kevin Costner), seems like an okay guy, a likeable man whose life was led astray by uncontrollable circumstances. Butch is sympathetic and we do not want to believe he is a true criminal. As time goes by his character's humor and caution show flaws; he turns dark and frightening, and the tension builds between him and his antagonists, as well as between him and Buzz (T.J. Lowther), the kidnapped boy-turned-companion, to a point of paralysis.
In the final scene in the grassy field the colors are saturated, yet slightly subdued by an overexposure of light. We see the deep red blood against Butch's white shirt, the clear blue sky, green grass and leaves on trees, but their coloring looks highlighted in white--not exactly faded or bleached, but given a superficial layer of light that accentuates the figure or character itself, like an aura. Butch, like many other characters in Eastwood's films, deals with making amends with his past, accepting responsibility for his mistakes, and repenting and moving forward peacefully. He tries to come to terms with what it means to be "good," and seems to need to correct his image in the face of God.
Unlike the tone to Lynch's stories, Eastwood's characters have little hope of resolve. Butch dies in the end. His past is not a history so much of traceable thematic events as it is an unqualified list of personal and circumstantial errors that ultimately defeat his future. Butch is constantly surrounded by this ethereal light as he shoots to kill, and when he is finally shot himself. The light distracts him from forgetting that he is being seen and judged, always and unrelentingly; his guide to salvation (and freedom) is as meager as the boy he kidnaps, and the burden of his conscience is too heavy to bear. Like Lynch, Eastwood shows us that there is fear in the dark, but that there is often more in the light.
Monday, April 3, 2006
Heaven Can Wait - 1943 - DVD
Saturday, April 1, 2006
In its essence, Heaven Can Wait is one big wisecrack, sneaking in its dialogue, and cathartically funny, so I guess it was a good choice to watch on April Fool's Day. Take the unexpected premise by itself: Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche), a recently deceased playboy pleads his case to the devil so he may join ranks in hell. Through a series of flashbacks that tour through his devious life of cheats and lies he calmly explains to the dark overlord that he deserves nothing more than a reserved spot in the underworld.
Damn him for his infant impropriety when as a beasty child he manages to seduce the family's French maid. And a wrong he has done in his later years when he steals away his own cousin's fiance (Gene Tierney). Though, Henry is a society man, spoiled on riches and therefore, as the story goes, has nothing better to do than instigate trouble. There is an obvious theme in this film that patterns throughout other Ernst Lubitsch pictures (see: Trouble in Paradise), that the upper-class is too rigid in their routine to be interesting. Because Henry craftily makes this crowd entertaining he is good, and thus by the devil's measure itself, a far cry from eternal damnation.
Henry goes to heaven because his past is mocking and funny, and full of nuance; risk and audaciousness makes Henry interesting and what colors his stories. Hell isn't for him. No, it's for the ones who are too bland to notice that in their complacency they're already there.
In its essence, Heaven Can Wait is one big wisecrack, sneaking in its dialogue, and cathartically funny, so I guess it was a good choice to watch on April Fool's Day. Take the unexpected premise by itself: Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche), a recently deceased playboy pleads his case to the devil so he may join ranks in hell. Through a series of flashbacks that tour through his devious life of cheats and lies he calmly explains to the dark overlord that he deserves nothing more than a reserved spot in the underworld.
Damn him for his infant impropriety when as a beasty child he manages to seduce the family's French maid. And a wrong he has done in his later years when he steals away his own cousin's fiance (Gene Tierney). Though, Henry is a society man, spoiled on riches and therefore, as the story goes, has nothing better to do than instigate trouble. There is an obvious theme in this film that patterns throughout other Ernst Lubitsch pictures (see: Trouble in Paradise), that the upper-class is too rigid in their routine to be interesting. Because Henry craftily makes this crowd entertaining he is good, and thus by the devil's measure itself, a far cry from eternal damnation.
Henry goes to heaven because his past is mocking and funny, and full of nuance; risk and audaciousness makes Henry interesting and what colors his stories. Hell isn't for him. No, it's for the ones who are too bland to notice that in their complacency they're already there.
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