Watching a Movie with Mom & Dad

My mother joined us here yesterday, and since I’ve been introducing her to Tarantino (she’s going to teach a course on art history in September, and also has to teach a little about modern film), Death Proof, a movie I love and my dad really likes as well, was on the menu. We watched it in two segments: the Texas part yesterday, and the Tennessee part tonight.

The verdict? She pretty much hated it.

And don’t just chalk that up to her being a mom – she’d dislike that excuse as much as Abernathy. I watched scenes from True Romance (the opening and the infamous Walken/Hopper scene) and Reservoir Dogs (the opening diner scene and the scene in the car) with her, and Pulp Fiction in its entirety, and she really liked all of that.

But cars getting banged up? Such a waste, and what for. Such bad manners, to demolish a car that isn’t even yours (I’m exaggerating for comic effect, but that’s the gist). The car chase will probably figure in her dreams. And all in all, she thought the story was too thin, and she just “couldn’t do anything with it”. It didn’t speak to her, and she found it unpleasant to watch.

I kind of understand it. While Pulp Fiction is chock-full of references, it has a very clear, complex and very ingeniously structured story of its own. I personally find Death Proof fascinating on its own, and I think it has a rich text as well as a rich subtext, but it’s a much more elementary tale. Much sloppier, too: my dad had added, in memory, a scene in which they return the car and retrieve Lee, but in truth the film ends abruptly at the cathartic high point, leaving a few threads totally unresolved.

I’ve been thinking about why I like Death Proof a lot these past few days, because of how flat Vanishing Point fell. Kaj left an elaborate defense on my previous post, and he makes some valid points. Vanishing Point does, indeed, have an interesting existentialist subtext, but what I stand by is that the text is very dated, unsatisfying, and yes, boring.

The DJ, for example, is yet another annoying instance of the “magical black guy”-cliche. The driving was nicely grounded, true, but it got VERY monotonous and repetitive, and car noise Kaj loved so much grated on both my dad’s ears and mine. And on one point I will strongly, unrelentedly disagree with Kaj: he says “the dialogue, well, compared to Death Proof, it’s not that bad.”

Excuse me? I know Tarantino has been accused of diminishing returns, and I know many critics found the girltalk annoying and mindless in the extreme. But while the dialogue in Vanishing Point is excruciatingly on-the-nose and corny (want to show someone loved the main character? Have her say “I love you, I love you, I love you” over and over again), there’s a rhythm to the girltalk in Death Proof, an ebb and flow and a melody that’s just amazing to listen to. And the actresses, especially Sydney Tamiia Poitier (who is totally believable as a radio DJ) and Tracie Toms, make it sing.

Is the subject matter bland? Yes, absolutely, and most probably on purpose. Is it naturalistic? Not even remotely, nor is it meant to be. But through the meaningless, sometimes maddeningly inane dialogue, we get to know not only these characters (who are all, except maybe for Zoë Bell, archetypes) but this world and its rules. Rules deliberately tweaked, slightly, from the standard slasher-movie tropes: girls who withhold sex aren’t automatically immune (but mommies, even unmarried, are, in an interesting contradiction), and we have here not just a reversal from victim to aggressor, but one almost explicitly from sexual victim to sexual predator (“Oh, you know I can’t let you go without tapping that ass… one…more….TIME!”).

I tend to go on about this movie, don’t I? Enough for tonight, in any case: I have a glass of rosé waiting for me, and I want to enjoy my last evening here in la Douce France.

Sunday Reading #5 – A Mixed bag

Ah, where would we be without bad films? Take, for instance, The Incredible Hulk, which invited many critics to play with its title (A.O. Scott, I believe, talked about “the merely adequate hulk”), or its tagline (“You Wouldn’t Like Me When I’m Boring“). Meanwhile, it’s lead to a re-appreciating of its forebear, Ang Lee’s modestly titled Hulk (see here and here, for instance).

But there isn’t just mediocre. There’s also amazingly, unbelievably bad, as apparently Shamaladingdong (copyright CJKennedy) made with The Happening. Even the notorious contrarians over at Bright Lights Film Journal don’t defend this movie, just make excuses for its maker.

Speaking of Mr. Kennedy, he’s been reporting from the LA film festival (LAFF), and his dispatches are a lot of fun to read, and very well written, especially considering how fast these pieces are usually written (I know, I’ve been there.) So go check’em out!

I know that in the film blogging community, it’s almost a cliché to link to Girish. But how can I not link to this post on “received ideas in cinema”? We’re so used to certain givens, that sometimes it’s a shock to see things we accept as truths refuted. Imagine my shock, for example, when I saw in my RSS-feeder this post, about the third Godfather movie being the best of the three. Then, of course, I realized there was a Bizarro blog-a-thon going on.

FAs it turns out, Paul Schrader (writer of Taxi Driver, among other things), is a pretty good film critic. Check out, for instance, his review of Belle De Jour, written all the way back in 1969. And speaking of the beautiful Catherine Deneuve, the Moving Image Source is full of great articles, including this one on the grande dame.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, Nick and Goatdog are discussing all Oscar winners… from both ends. That is, each time they go forward one year and back one year. This first installment? No Country for Old Men and Wings (which I really want to see now. I’ve seen and loved Sunrise, which won the other BP award that first year, but not that one). The second? Broadway Melody (which doesn’t sound like a must-see) and The Depahted.

Then: some random links. Want a Barbie doll, for example? Why not this one? And if you think you’re an awful geek for obsessing over aspect ratios or stupid anti-piracy ads that you only have to watch when you’re playing a LEGALLY BOUGHT DVD, you can always tell yourself that at least, you’re not obsessing over semi-colons.

Finally, for your viewing tip of the week, the Onion AV club put together a lovely primer on Pixar because Wall-E is coming out (July 30th here), and it reminded me of this hilarious short. I don’t think it’s much of an exaggeration to call it Chaplinesque.

And for the bonus viewing tip, a friend of mine is dabbling in stop-motion, and while he admits the trailer for the film he’s making is about as long as the film itself, that doesn’t mean it isn’t mouth-watering.

Watching Movies with my dad pt. 4

The movie: Vanishing Point (Richard C. Serafian, 1971) (UK version)

The pitchable element: my dad liked Death Proof quite a bit. Death Proof references this movie twice.

The length: 105 minutes (though it felt like more)

The verdict: well, they can’t all be winners, can they? Granted, it got slightly more interesting after we looked at each other one hour in and said “this is bad, huh?”, but not by that much. I knew this movie was about one guy driving a long way in a white Dodge Challenger. What I didn’t know was that there would be so little else, and that any possible subtext you might be able to find is voiced aloud, in the most corny way possible, several times.

I mean, the dialogue is just bad. Bad bad. And the acting? Charlotte Rampling shows up for about five minutes, and I know she can act, but she’s saddled with such terrible dialogue that you can hardly blame her for not sounding convinced, herself. The other actors don’t even seem to try. And the movie commits the worst sin a bad movie can commit: it’s boring. And just in case that doesn’t make an impression: know that I’m not easily bored. I was fascinated, mesmerized by Gerry, in which far less happened. But the movie’s too scattershot to be hypnotic, and rarely bad in an entertaining way.

Was there nothing at all I liked? Well… some of the chase scenes were, admittedly, pretty cool, and felt marvelously grounded and real compared to today’s CGI-riddled action. Though he’s kind of a poor man’s Elliott Gould, Barry Newman’s face is all kinds of fascinating. And while it’s incredibly dated by now, there’s no doubt that Vanishing Point influenced quite a few (better) movies: Death Proof is the obvious example, but the DJ-conceit from Reservoir Dogs seems cribbed from the diegetic use of radio here as well, and Thelma and Louise has clear echoes of it.

Luckily, my mom’s coming over tomorrow, and because I’ve been introducing her to Tarantino, Death Proof is on the menu. The chase involving that particular Dodge Challenger is one I could watch over and over again.

Watching Movies with My Dad pt. 3

The movie: Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977)

The pitchable element: no need for one. My dad saw this in the cinema when it came out, loved it, and hadn’t seen it since.

The length: 93 minutes including credits

The verdict: comedies should not be watched alone. As to any rule, there are of course exceptions, but my -purely anecdotal- evidence is this: I liked Annie Hall the first time I watched it, by myself. I liked it a lot, in fact, enough to buy it, and I thought it was very, very funny. But I don’t remember laughing out loud.

With my dad, however, I laughed out loud several times, even at the most predictable jokes (like Alvy sneezing the coke away, for instance). Somehow, by myself, I could appreciate the humor but I wasn’t really able to ENJOY it. But now, watching it again, this time in good company, I enjoyed it immensely. The one-liners are funny, the tricks that break the fourth wall work, and Diane Keaton is glorious (why is she stuck in all these crappy rom-coms nowadays?)

That, and of course the following quote is probably one of the truest things anyone has ever said about relationships:

I thought of that old joke, y’know, the, this… this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” And, uh, the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and… but, uh, I guess we keep goin’ through it because, uh, most of us… need the eggs. Alvy Singer

Watching movies with my dad, pt. 2

This installment: The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks, 1946)

The pitchable element: my dad loves The Maltese Falcon. This also has Bogie as a P.I.

The length: 110 minutes (aka: almost 40 minutes shorter than Duck, You Sucker!

The verdict: I love this film. More so, even, than the first time. It’s not that surprising: like the Coen classic loosely based on it, it’s better appreciated once you stop trying to follow the plot. I still think The Maltese Falcon is a better, more focused film, and ultimately, it has more quotable one-liners, but the banter between Bogie and Bacall is simply staggering. The speed, how they play off each other, the palpable sexual tension… One scene, where Bacall calls the cops and Bogie stops her, wouldn’t be out of place in a screwball comedy, and a good one at that (I’ve embedded the scene after the jump, unfortunately, it’s colored in and with Dutch subtitles, so you’re better off just buying the DVD for 10 euri).

My crush on Bogie is no secret by now, of course. But this one’s truly among his best, and while his pulling on his earlobe incessantly gets a bit old after a while, you never doubt for a second that all these pretty girls would, in fact, come onto him.

I’m still not quite sure about the intricate details of the plot (reportedly, Chandler wasn’t either), but I do know this: it’s fun every step of the way.

Watching movies with my dad

As you might know, I’m currently on something of a break in the south of France with my father. And well, the thing with my dad is: he likes movies, but he never feels like watching them. He’s rarely sorry when he does, but he often just doesn’t have the motivation. Especially not if their over an hour and a half. So for this trip, I assembled some movies that a) had a clear, pitchable element and b) weren’t too long. So far? 2 down. 5 to go.

First up: The Hunger (Tony Scott, 1983)

The pitchable element: a lesbian sex scene featuring one of his favorite actresses, Catherine Deneuve.

The length: 93 minutes

The verdict: What a strange film this is!

A Sunday read

(Note: I tried to make this Courier, as it should be. WordPress didn’t agree)

EXT: Day

A house. Light-colored, slightly yellowish, with a slanted roof. It stands alone, and it’s quiet. It’s a sunny day, clearly the afternoon. The air is hazy.

A car. It’s first heard, then seen coming up the driveway. Out of it step a middle-aged MAN (dark hair, avergage heigh and build, jeans) and a twenty-something GIRL (blonde, also in jeans, sunglasses). The girl streches, lets her arms fall back. She points up with one finger.

GIRL: hear that?
MAN: what?

Double Feature: Point Blank/The Limey

Experimental movies usually don’t have a lot of action in them, and action movies tend to be fairly sitraghtforward enterprises. Strange, since both Point Blank and The Limey demonstrate that the standard revenge plot is fertile ground for filmic experimentation.

How did I go this far without ever having seen Point Blank? I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m very grateful for Alexander’s recent piece on it: it prompted me to finally sit down to watch it, and I absolutely loved it. It helps that I was prepared: I can imagine that people looking for something like Payback (based on the same story) will be put off by the shifty visuals, the juxtaposition of images from different periods in time, and the fact that the sound doesn’t always synch with what we see.

I was fascinated every step of the way. Lee Marvin gives a great central performance, almost emotionless, absent in his own story. Who knew Nouvelle Vague would fit so well with a simple, almost un-ironic gangster story? The story is only the bare skeleton, and the style adds layer upon layer of mood, melancholy, and metaphors.

Who is Walker? What motivates him? These questions aren’t really ever answered. Maybe he is, as Alexander suggests, just a ghost, an eidolon. Someone who was killed and is just staying around in order to settle debts.

The motivation of the protagonist of the Limey, Wilson, has a somewhat better defined motivation. His daughter was killed, and he wants to kill the man he thinks is responsible. Still, he wasn’t exactly close to his daughter, and hadn’t spoken to her in 5 years. He wants revenge as almost an abstract thing. Walker in Point Blank says “someone’s gotta pay”, and while he’s talking about money ($93.000 to be precise), the same sentence could be used to describe Wilson’s attitude.

In The Limey also, images are juxtaposed with no regard for chronology, the sound is often disconnected from the visuals, and there are many recurring stylistic motifs that are impossible to miss. The movie does forward, but not in a straight line: instead, it loops around, doubles back, and some images which we at first think are from the beginning of the film’s chronology are revealed at the end of the film to be situated at the end of the story.

It’s a great film, and while it definitely owes a debt to Point Blank, it is more emotional, simpler, and in the end slightly more satisfying film. I love the inclusion of scenes from an old Terence Stamp movie that fill in his character’s past, and Peter Fonda is a great fit as his opponent, Terry Valentine.

And as a final, totally unrelated remark: why has nobody but Soderbergh figured out what to do with Nicky Katt? He has some great, clearly improvised, lines (what’s the smartest thing that ever came out of a woman’s mouth?), and he’s the most alive thing in the movie. Why does he keep getting stuck as a third banana or a boring teacher? I say: give Nicky a leading role in a big comedy, and I’m sure he’ll make a splash.

Dexter Season Two (Spoiler Free)

The FWB (I’ll let you figure out what that stands for) and I are taking the night off, and instead of dedicating my free time to some lofty goal, like my thesis or my continuing cinematic education, I’m walking around restlessly, cursing how many clothes I have (the hanging part of my closet collapsed and I had to find new spots for each and every one of my two dozen vests), and watching In Plain Sight, which really isn’t one of the strongest things TV has to offer nowadays.

Call it procrastination, something I’m so good at that continuing my studies with a PhD probably wouldn’t be the brightest idea. But I’ve decided to at least turn it into slightly useful procrastination, and seeing how I finished season two of Dexter, I present: the review. After all, I also wrote one for Season One.

I’m drifting. I finally get a chance to kill and I can’t do it. I get a second chance and he gets away. And now all my secrets are floating to the surface. Where is the orderly controlled effective Dexter? Where did I lose him? How do I find him again? I’m drifting. But not to sleep. Dexter

Sunday Reading #4

Late, I know. So let’s get on with it.

I linked to Lauren Wissot’s piece on Marnie before. This week, she analyzes an S&M-like scene in another movie, David Lynch’s Wild at Heart. Which I still haven’t seen, but I absolutely want to now.

Furthermore, there’s been a lot of discussion about all kinds of criticism lately. Movie criticism most of all, especially considering the recent spate of firings, but the question “what is film criticism good for and what should its goals be” can be easily applied to other fields of criticism as well. And one thin that’s oft overlooked is that criticism can just be incredibly fun to read, even if you don’t have much interest in knowing whether something is good or not. For instance, while I think Palahniuk’s books are relatively entertaining with diminishing returns, my opinion doesn’t really matter: this piece by Lucy Ellman is fun to read even if you have no clue who Chuck Palahniuk is.

(is it bad that I’m kind of looking forward to Choke nonetheless?)

In the same vein: even people with no interest in superhero movies can, I’m fairly certain, enjoy this Hulk review. I can just see the reviewer angrily gloating while he typed it out.

For your viewing tip (or rather tips) of the week, how could I not point you to IFC’s 50 worst sex scenes in cinema?

That’s it. Happy Father’s Day, and if you want to understand my current state of mind about my future, this strip pretty much sums it up.