Rod Serling was famous for including thought-provoking twists on his original version of the The Twilight Zone. Bob included a twist with this episode of Literally Anything: abandoning the plans for what this episode was going to be about and talking about Jordan Peele's The Twilight Zone. Tim decided to talk about Us because it's tied to Jordan Peele.
http://literallyanything.net/blog/2019/4/9/episode-74-literally-the-twilight-zone-2019
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Rated R for gruesome child death and brains leaking out of someone's head. It's '80s horror. You should basically know what you are getting into. There's some uncomfortable stuff that involves genetic deformation, which is kind of a gross trope the more I think about it. There's some language. If you are squeamish about corpses, buckle up because there's a lot of stuff based around that. There's a ghost. He's a gross ghost, but he's nice apparently. Regardless, R.
DIRECTOR: Mary Lambert The trailer for the new one looked sick! That's why I watched it. I'm sure no one is shocked by the spike in rentals that this movie probably just got. I read the book too. Okay, I audiobooked the Stephen King novel. I think that might have been the worst thing I could have done before watching this film. Stephen King wrote the screenplay for the 1989 adaptation of his book and I see all of the parts in shorthand. But Michael C. Hall read the book. That means I had Michael C. Hall play the part of Louis Creed, the protagonist of the book. Michael C. Hall is absolutely amazing. You know who isn't amazing? Pretty much of the cast of this movie except for Miko Hughes, who plays Gage. That's right. The kid who plays the two-year-old is entirely worth the watching of this movie. I mean, I'm never letting my kids be in movies. But I'm glad that Miko Hughes is really good at being adorable and terrifying at the same time. There's a definite quality jump when it comes to Stephen King adaptations before the era of Netflix. The grand-daddy of them all was The Shining by Stanley Kubrick (I have to stress that so no one gets confused with the TV version...which I also kind of like). I know that people like the original It, but that TV version doesn't survive the test of time. Watching these terrifying movies in today's environment is a little unfair. Stephen King is, oddly enough, having a renaissance with his stuff. Yeah, The Dark Tower was an abomination, but most of his stuff now looks the way it should have looked in the '80s. Some of this I could chalk up to the '80s. The '80s were a remarkably fun time for horror. It was being produced en masse. Some of it was absolutely phenomenal. But a lot of it was a rush job. I know that people preach about Pet Sematary, and more often, Pet Sematary 2. But this was my first time watching it. I remember when this movie came out. I remember being terrified by previews and the box at Blockbuster Video. But I never watched it. I never really wanted to watch it. As such, I had no nostalgia for this film that I'm sure people have. Pet Sematary feels completely soulless (pun intended). It is a movie that hits every beat of the novel. I kind of like the novel. The novel is a very slow Stephen King book. From a structural perspective, it almost breaks every rule. There are scary events scattered throughout the book. But in terms of actual horror, all of it is pretty much compressed into the finale, building upon the theme of "Dead is better." The story consists of Louis Creed learning to question everything he knows about medicine and morality for the sake of having his son back. It plays around with mysticism and the occult a bit. That's completely fine. But it is really a character study of Louis. King creates a world where every person in Louis's life represents another element of an argument. Louis is almost a tabula rasa. He is sheer logic. As a man of medicine, he is grounded by fact. Death is a part of life. He should try to prevent death. But whenever he can't prevent death, he knows that it is logical to move on. He's never cold about it, but he is an extremely practical human being. Throughout the course of the story, others represent other philosophies. His wife is extremely emotional. She avoids logic when it comes to death throughout the book. Her reactions are gutteral and knee-jerk. Jud is the moral character who's morals seem somewhat compromised. He's the one always spouting off that "Dead is better." Honestly, if I could get away with it, I would use Pet Sematary to teach about the rhetorical triangle in a hot second. But trying to film that exactly isn't really practical. If these characters are just coming into spout off philosophies and watch Louis change over the story, it doesn't make a compelling film. The entire book is pretty much in the movie. Some of the minor characters are reduced to traits that other characters carry, but for the sake of the film, the entire thing is in there. The movie is less than two hours long. This means that this long and complex story is really truncated to extremely useless scenes. It actually faces the same problem that The Dark Tower did. It tried to do everything when it should have focused on one thing really well. On top of that, they added an unnecessary death to the movie. Missy Dandridge is added to the story for no absolute reason. King has her foreshadow her own death in the first scene and then just deliver on it in the middle of the film. Again, the movie is mostly a build up to its climax and not a horror story throughout. Adding her felt like a studio request to make the film scarier. I'm going to come out and say it. This movie is bad because it has absolutely terrible performances and weak directoral choices. Anyone involved in this movie, I apologize. I know that it was a different time and the expectations were probably all over the place for this film. I'm going to be doing some dunking on performances and I'm going to chalk up a lot of it to "It was the '80s." I'm sure that your performances are better in other movies. I mean, Denise Crosby gets a million passes just for being a Next Generation alum and her involvement with my favorite documentary of all time. But Dale Midkiff as Louis Creed is...really bad? Again, I had Michael C. Hall in my head. Dexter was playing Louis Creed. That's so good. There's honestly a scene where Midkiff as Creed rolls out of bed and hits his head on the nightstand. The nightstand is very far away, so he kind of has to launch his head into it. If my analysis of the separate characters playing the different appeals is accurate, then he's playing logic flawlessly. The range on this character is nowhere. He's somber, somber, somber, screaming. He might be one of the most unlikable characters I've seen in film. It just screams like no one really cared about getting the character or the film right. It feels very budget. I don't know how, but I didn't care about Jud Crandall at all. He's portrayed by the late Fred Gwynne. I don't know if there's anything wrong about the performance, but he's very shoehorned into the plot. It actually makes little to no sense that these characters are friends. It's actually a bit of a stretch in the book, but King has time to develop these characters. We have insight into Louis's skeptical relationship with Jud because we have this very fleshed out character. I'm throwing more shade at Dale Midkiff, but I get none of that from his character. He's just kind of...there. This old man and Louis Creed, just hanging out. Maybe it's not the performers' faults at all. I really get the vibe that the movie just didn't take the time to do anything. You know when people say that "the book was better." I normally hate that, but Pet Sematary might be the quintessential case of this playing out. It's either the book is slavish to the material, like it is here, or it completely ignores the material. The best of adaptations gets to the root of the story and build that up. Looking at To Kill a Mockingbird, that story ignores a ton of the moments from the novel. Instead, it gives particular focus to Scout developing as a character in the shadow of an awful trial. It ignores so much of the family dynamic of Scout and her extended relatives. (I have to apologize. I try getting an analysis out a day, but I had a doctor's appointment and night class at a school that has Weebly on its blocked websites page.) I know that it seems like a "no, duh" moment to say that Pet Sematary doesn't have the staying power of To Kill a Mockingbird. But the thing about the whole endeavor is that it didn't learn a darned lesson from it. I think Pet Sematary might be kind of precious for Stephen King. I know, he probably loves all of his books and claim them all to be his favorite. But in the introduction to the book, King talks about how Pet Sematary is the one that actually scares him. There are all these moments that tie to his life and it seems kind of precious. There's no real distance when writing the screenplay. I also think that King works really well in novel form, but kind of lacks any punch when he writes his own stuff. I hear that he's really personal about letting other people adapt his works, but it is also the weakest choice. Then what is redeeming about this film? I mean, people really liked this movie. Perhaps it is the schlock factor. The kitschiness of the whole film is really palpable. I want to talk about the last shot of the film, so SPOILER warning. I know that King wrote both versions, but I was really thinking that we were going to get a different ending from the book. To a certain extent, I know that there are differences. I want to talk about that too, so hopefully I remember. But in both the book and the movie, Louis resurrects Rachel. (Oh, geez...was there any reason to bring back Zelda, especially as a man in makeup?) In the book, there's a sinister implication. Rachel looks normal, but will rip him apart after we close the back cover / turn off the mp3. That element is still there, but in the most Addams Family way I've seen in a horror movie. Gage stabs Rachel to death with a scalpel. But when she returns, she has a chunk of her face missing. We get to see the skull, and, for the complete over-the-top element, have liquids squirting out of her face. The two embrace and kiss in what seems to be a horror VHS cover enacted in the film. This seems almost like a promotional piece for the movie Pet Sematary, but no one would actually dare put it in the film. It made me guffaw and I have to give it points for that. It went there so hard that I can't even fault it. When the movie as off the reservation as Pet Sematary, it's nice to know that it can have a little fun. There's one thing that is meant to be fun (and see, I came back to it!) but it doesn't work for me at all. The characterization of Victor Pascal is really bizarre to me. In the book, he was a temptation for Louis. He brings him out to the forest and ties him to the gravesite. I know that Jud brings him out there, but it always gave me the vibe that the gravesite wanted more bodies. Pascal was always that character. Making Pascal a spiritual guide is an odd decision. He doesn't really work. There's a throw away line about the fact that Victor is protecting Rachel and Louis's family because Louis tried to help him when everyone thought it was hopeless. But bringing Rachel to Louis is only killing her faster. She can't see him. She kind of gets a...shining (?!) about him, but that's as far as that goes. What is the logic of making him a benevolent spirit? Every choice he makes wrecks the family. I couldn't help but think of the comparison between Victor Pascal and Jack Goodwin in An American Werewolf in London. But look at the characterization and commitment to each character. Victor Pascal is one of the elements that could be completely left out of the movie to help with characterization. It seems like it is thrown in the movie to make it closer to the book. But it is seriously harming the film. It isn't invested in and it just seems like this disparate element to the film. Is it weird that my desire to see the sequel and the remake has cooled? I thought I liked Pet Sematary a lot, but watching this movie feels like reading a book report of the story. It really highlights the faults of the story and it might not be one of my favorite Stephen King stories, in retrospect. Yeah, I should be forgiving of the era. But this movie...kind of stinks? I think I hate lazy and that's what this movie feels like. PG-13, mainly for racial slurs. While I was watching it, I kept noticing that this seemed like the most family friendly expose of racism. Then there is one scene. On the grand scale of really intense film moments, it probably isn't even a blip. But I'm not going to downplay a moment of sexual assault. It is in the film and it is definitely an escalation in the movie. PG-13 probably seems pretty accurate.
DIRECTOR: Robin Bissell It's another of those situations where I'm writing about a movie that I've already written about this week. My goal? Try not to be too repetitive. It's almost 1:00 am. I kind of want to talk how the sausage is made because I want to explain how I go into certain films. I hadn't heard of The Best of Enemies as of three weeks ago. I've been writing for Catholic News Agency for over a year. The old directive was to write what I want with a Catholic focus. If something got rejected, that's the way that the cookie crumbled. Fairly recently, a PR firm read one of the reviews I published on Captain Marvel, so they have been asking me to review certain movies. I don't really get paid any differently, but I do get to get passes for advanced showings. This works really nicely for me because A) I don't have to come up with content and try to figure out what a Catholic audience would like to read about and B) I actually have time to plan and write a good article instead of rushing something on a Friday night in the hopes that my editor sees it in time for the weekend. But when I get an assignment, I do a little bit of legwork and find out some stuff. Honestly, if I hadn't gotten those screener tickets, I probably wouldn't have seen this movie. But boy, I'm glad I saw it. Movies about racism seem to bring up a binary result. I like one of these results. (I'm going to continue to be cryptic about this whole thing.) The bulk of movies that address racism is kind of made with good intention. They seem to be reminding us about the dangers of racism, but treat it like a victory or something. Most "white savior" movies kind of fall into this category. They seem to imply that we have beaten racism. It could come back, but only if we let our guard down. I honestly don't love these movies. Most people adore these films. They are feel good films. The audience identifies with the progressive white family or the put upon minority in the film and scoffs at the evil, over-the-top racists in the film. Watch the Seth Meyers skit, "White Savior" if you have any questions. The second is a far more scathing view of society. While it may take place in another era, it is clearly a commentary on the ills of today. If you have seen any Spike Lee movie, you can see where I'm going with that. I tend to lean that direction pretty hard. I find the feel-goodery movies really problematic. I thought that The Best of Enemies belonged in the former category. The more I think about it, it oddly might be the movie that tries doing a little bit of both. It might be the rare movie that fits in both categories. The way it is shot, honest to Pete, reminds of of Remember the Titans and Green Book. I think we have a pretty clear template of what Civil Rights era racism looks like on film. We know our tropey characters and archetypes and we can instantly jump to attention in terms of expectations. In terms of structure, the movie definitely feels like it should fit in the first category. But the timing of this movie is definitely reminding us of the second. I think many of fans of the second category are going to hate this movie. I can even see why. It dances around a troubling message that could be detrimental to a movement. But in that way it is really gutsy. My co-host on Literally Anything is all about watching neo-Nazis get punched. (I swear, this is a new article. Please don't shut me down.) I told him that I was going to see this movie. I showed him the trailer and he gave me the big ol' "nope." His argument, which made a ton of sense, is that we have been bred to tolerate racism. Tolerating intolerance breeds more intolerance. And that made sense to me. For the sake of this article, I'm going to pretend that this was the first time I had heard this argumentation. I go back and forth on this philosophy. We studied oxymoron last week in class and down the list, I saw "militant pacifist." That might define me. I try to avoid violence in every situation. I don't understand violence. I think it makes everything worse. But I also get the idea that being nice to racists in the hopes that they change is a poor philosophy. The Best of Enemies really implies that racists and the victims of racism should be friends. What Henson was fighting for was that you can't fix a racist by being nice to him. Well, the movie apparently has the same attitude. I love this so much. Maybe I'm being overly nice to the movie because I dodged a moral bullet pretty hard. Very rarely do any character treat each other nicely. The closest thing that happens in the movie that could be considered nice is more along the lines of humane. Ann Atwater sacrifices her time to help C.P. Ellis not because C.P. Ellis deserves it. Rather, she sympathizes with a third party related to Ellis and can put aside her animosity toward him to help a third party. Yeah, it seems like I'm splitting hairs a little bit. But it is a very important hair. If the message of the movie was to be nice to each other, it has been said before and it oversimplifies the power of bigotry. But I can't stand how we've gotten as a culture. Here's my soapbox. I get preachy and I find myself getting preachier every day. I'm sorry to everyone who reads my stuff. I hear myself too and I'm sympathetic to the fact that I am obsessed with my own philosophy. But people don't listen anymore. I sound like Andy Rooney, God rest his soul. But no one budges any more. I used to be a hardcore Republican and now I'm probably left of center. That doesn't seem like a huge move, but it is affecting my life all the time. Friends don't really listen to me. They think that I'm nuts. I know that there was a pretty big divide during the Bush Jr. administration, but I don't know if we can ever get better under Trump. People hate each other, guys. This movie is calling it as it sees it. The Klan is back and they don't even know that they are the Klan. People are asking for help left and right and are being told to shut up. And this is happening on both sides. Every political argument that happens is someone asking to be heard and, instead, that person just gets attacked. I suppose to a certain extent, I'm guilty of this too. I have found myself shaking with anxiety and fear that people who I thought were bastions of reason and morality saying absolutely horrible things about entire demographics of people. It's really bad out there. And the thing about punching Nazis? It isn't fixing anything. We have just been hating each other more. Ann Atwater might be the patron saint of political discourse. In the film, Taraji P. Henson plays her as brusque and intense. She fights for her ideals and doesn't seem to care who gets steamrollered in the process. (Okay, she doesn't sacrifice people to her politics. ) But if she fights someone, she's going to go for the jugular. Both sides are infamous for not listening and fighting tooth and nail. Admittedly, both sides act very differently in their fight. Atwater uses her words, but uses them like sledgehammers to the face. Ellis, played by Sam Rockwell, has that "good ol' boy" mentality. He says the most awful things in a calm voice, not allowing himself to get worked up. Unlike Atwater, his words are often accompanied by actions. As the president of the Klan, he has people fight his battles for him. It probably gives him a sense of distance from the actions he is asking for. But all this is a real story about Bill Riddick. Bill Riddick, played by Babou Ceesay, is the third name on the bill. It's odd, because the reason that everything happens is because of Riddick. If we were defining our protagonists and antagonists, Riddick has the most focused goal. The change at the end is brought about by his actions. Atwater wants integration. Ellis wants segregation. But these characters were at a standstill before Riddick. This movie, honestly, should have had Riddick at its centerpiece. He had the most Herculean task of the entire film. (Wait, more important than civil rights?) Riddick has a desired outcome that he's not allowed to influence. There are times that he encroaches on that goal. His goal is to get two very volatile groups to sit down and talk to each other. Think of the moral weight on his shoulders. There's a very real chance that he could only bolster the Klan's influence in the Durham area in 1971. He could roll back what little progress this city has accomplished with his actions. But he still fights because of the potential for real change. It's so interesting because I'm teaching John Lewis's March with my American Lit class. (I choose to capitalize it.) March makes me realize that while MLK was the big guy we all remember, Civil Rights (again) wouldn't be a thing if it wasn't for all of the other tactics that would have happened simultaneously. It's nice to think that one person could make a difference and that's probably true. But it takes one person to fight his own battle while another fights his or her battle somewhere else. Atwater, by herself, would not have brought about integration. But Atwater and Riddick fighting their own battles, often in opposition, is what really could have brought about real change. In terms of filming, the movie is a bit safe for my liking. Again, my racially charged movie for the year was BlacKkKlansman. I don't like when movies take the easy route. But The Best of Enemies is fighting a very specific battle. I don't know if this went into the directors mind when it was being made. Maybe it was the best movie that he could make. I don't know. I can't read minds. But the movie has to be appealing for everyone. If you are going to change minds, you have to make the movie palatable. Going back to category one, do you know why those movies exist? They make a ton of money. They are entertaining and make people feel good about themselves. You know what happens with category two? People get mad. I get mad. But they are hardcore confirmation bias movies. (I suppose the first category is too.) But the people who are already motivated see those movies. The Best of Enemies is a movie that is entertaining and it feels safe. That's the best situation for a movie like that. We don't feel like we're being lectured to. But I will tell you right now. This movie is lecturing you hard. You can laugh and you can cry and you can relate. Get those emotions out, but you are being influenced in a way that should matter. I talked about this in my other other article, so I don't want to tread on that too much, but it's a bummer that Ellis was in the Klan. (For multiple reasons, I suppose.) It's a true story and I don't know how Hollywood'ed up it got. But Ellis being in the Klan makes him...too bigoted. Most movies do a solid job of vilifying the Klan...with the exception of Birth of a Nation. But I really wish that Ellis was more relatable. I suppose that the movie does do a good job of humanizing him. It shows why he has made all these bigoted choices without making those choices too sympathetic. But I wanted to have more nuance. That's what it is. But for a movie that normally gets dinged in a direction against itself, I think it is a far better movie than people give it credit for. The Rotten Tomatoes score isn't great. It isn't terrible. It's just not as good as I'm making it out to be. I think the movie is pretty solid. I want people to watch it. But I also know that people don't listen... ...which is the message of the film. Bummer. I'm going to write a blog entry on this in a minute, but please click the image above to read the fancier version of The Best of Enemies.
Not rated, but this one is pretty offensive. I see that Lars von Trier kind of got some of his technique and attitude from Ingmar Bergman. I've seen a lot of Bergman. Bergman is really good at playing up the uncomfortable sometimes. I don't think he's ever gone as far as he has with Persona. There's nudity, sometimes only in flashes. There's a story that's told that is wildly explicit to the point where I could consider it pornographic. The movie also plays it pretty fast and loose with abortions. Not rated, but for adults only.
DIRECTOR: Ingmar Bergman I've seen a lot of Bergman. A lot of Bergman. But I also should point out, rarely does Bergman bring me back for a rewatch. Bergman's a genius and I'm always kind of mesmerized by what I see. But he's not there for a good time. He had to know that he's not a fun director. He makes things uncomfortable and introspective for a reason. Not all film has to be fun. In fact, some film shouldn't be fun. I'm coming away from Persona with a very specific attitude. I really want to analyze the cool things, but I also am challenged to re-evaluate Bergman for a reason. Bergman plays with the sexual in a way that I wasn't really prepped for. Also, while Bergman has always been the forefather of avante-garde at times, this one also feels like Bergman trying to out Bergman himself. I tend to think of his aesthetic and directorial choices as his language. But he seems mad as heck in this movie. It's still a work of genius, but Ingmar Bergman seems to be having a bit of a temper tantrum with this film. It makes sense. Bergman always makes his audience question themselves. That's just part of who he is. But this one has a direct cause-and-effect reaction. I don't think he's ever worn his frustration on his sleeves before. Including images of the self-immolating monks has been the most on-the-nose I've ever seen him as a director. He couples this with people being led off to the death camps in World War II. He made this complex movie that has all of these layers and that's super rad. But he made this puzzle box that he wants everyone to watch. It's such this odd choice. I have all kinds of theories about the messages of this film. But having those moments, the moments with the images of global horror. Honestly, I'm breaking an entire film down to two shots. But those shots are so indicative of reactions that I am amazed that the rest of the movie plays it close to the vest. Okay, not as close to the vest as some of his other works. Bergman plays with visual choices probably way more intensely than normal. His images normally speak for themselves. The stark black figure against a background is the extend of the imagery I'm used to seeing out of Bergman. But you know that art house parody that we're used to seeing student film? I don't know if this is its origin point, but it was hard to take it serious in 2019. I'm sure that it was powerful at one point. At this point in history, Fight Club has already done the single frame of genitalia. The entire intro ties into the film. But I can't think of the necessity of the intro and conclusion, bookended by the intense imagery. The beginning and the end are there for tone. It's not supposed to be a story of two people talking. Instead, this imagery intentionally pulls us out of our comfort zones. We can't be too invested in the story because these moments exist. Okay, I get that. But I also think of the economy of film with these inclusions. Are they safety nets? Are they what is needed? This is why I call it a temper tantrum. Instead of allowing the narrative / counter-narrative to do the heavy lifting, Bergman uses imagery that is instantly jarring. The whole film doesn't support that. We have that break in the middle that reminds us that the film is meant to be jarring. But why include this stuff. I guarantee that if I tried making Persona or if anyone else tried making Persona, people would call the director out on those choices. But this kind of leads to the interpretation of the film. SPOILERS: I'm sure that someone has a definitive answer for what is happening with the film, especially when it comes to relating the events to the title of the film. I have at least three theories of what is going and, fingers crossed, all of these ideas have interpretations of what is actually going on towards contributing to a single idea. The title, Persona, is intimately tied to the theme of identity. But what identity we're actually experiencing is pretty confusing. Bibi Andersson, for shorthand, will be referred to as "Alma" or "Sister Alma". Liv Ullmann, for shorthand, will be "Elisabet". I may have to address them by the actresses' names because things may get really confusing. I want to go with my leading theory of what is happening with the movie. I feel like such a chump writing things out like this because I feel like I'm minimizing the film into a puzzle box when the interpretation is far more important. But I'm also secure enough to state that I don't understand the nuance of Persona on the first watch. The most probably answer was that Alma / Andersson was the actress the entire time. She took on the role of Elisabet, explaining why Elisabet is so quiet. To be clear, I'm saying that Elisabet was the nurse for the majority of the film. She is there to listen. I thought it was weird that Alma would be so personal about her life. There's the scene that I consider borderline pornographic. It's going into this troubling narrative about sexuality that makes rape sound sexually pleasing. But almost out of nowhere, Alma volunteers this to Elisabet and it's a troubling thing to have in this film. From that moment, Alma starts spiraling out of control. This is kind of confirmed with the arrival of Elisabet's husband. Andersson has to say that she is both not his wife, yet follows through with kissing him and promising that she will be home to see their children soon. This is where I feel really dumb, but is Elisabet's husband blind. The hold on the sunglasses is an odd choice. When he takes the glasses off, he doesn't appear blind. But it is also in that moment that Andersson acts like she is his spouse. Is there a metaphor of that shift opening his eyes. He is blind to the mental illness of Alma, only to think that he sees when she acts normal. This also seems to be confirmed by the visual cue of the split face, the most interesting element of the whole story. The reason that it doesn't hold all of the water is because the end of the film. Alma is still the nurse again. She puts on the clothes. Those clothing choices keep shifting, which only makes me question the whole thing again. Again, I hate to link Persona to something a little more gimmicky like Memento. (Please don't yell at me. I haven't watched it in years, but I absolutely adored Memento.) So what is the message there? Tie it back to the grounded elements of watching horror in television? Do we run from our lives? From problems? Is the very nature of entertainment an escape from what we should be really doing? By showing images of horror on television, it shows that we want to go to the beach. We want to imagine that our problems are most horrific and unsolvable. If Andersson was the actress the whole time, she sees her blessed life as the worst imaginable, despite the fact that we have the image of the monk on fire. Giving the nurse the narrative of sex object, it shows that we think strongly of class and what must be happening in their lives. Big surprise, this interpretation is pretty depressing. My second theory holds a little bit more weight, but I don't like it as much. The second theory is that Andersson has slowly fallen apart over the course of the film. Because Ullmann is so silent, she grafts a personality onto her. Like the letter says, Andersson has a pretty intense crush on the person that she thinks that Ullmann is. The silence has slightly driven her mad. This is the interpretation with our obsession with celebrity. There's a lot backing up this idea. At one point, Andersson actually says this. She states in her apology that she was just caught up in the limelight of having a celebrity around her and not knowing what to do. After all, Andersson's nurse has had a fairly mundane life, shy of that very graphic sexual experience. The note, in that case, holds a lot more weight. When she sees that the note treats her as a lesser person, she finally loses what value she had. What I like about this interpretation is that it could be Bergman pulling a Stardust Memories. I don't care what Woody Allen says. That movie is about him and there's no way you can tell me otherwise. It's telling because Andersson is the creepiest form of sympathetic in this story. Ullmann has every right not to talk to Andersson. Andersson is under her employ. It just so happens that the two of them are in paradise, and the lines of employer and employee have been blurred. It's why celebrities are so cold. Any sign of warmth and boundaries tend to be crossed. One person knows so much more than the other and that creates an imbalance that tends to be misconstrued as friendship. It could explain why Bergman has a different style for this film, because it is so personal. But it also doesn't allow for a bunch of different things that happen in the film. The fact that the film is named Persona is a little weak with this interpretation. Similarly, some of the trippier elements don't work. Why doesn't the husband react when Andersson kisses him and claims that she'll be home for her child soon? It doesn't quite fit, despite the fact that it is the most grounded answer. My final theory is probably the most underbaked, but that's because it treats the film as underbaked. It is far more meta and that doesn't really bring me a lot of comfort. Bergman seems to be the guy who doesn't like clear interpretations. While there is a message that he is going for in the story, it shouldn't be easy to break down. It might be a combination of theory one, theory two, or a smorgasbord of many theories. There's a very real possibility, in an attempt to not minimize his message, he is intentionally sabotaging traditional narratives. Every time you think you get it, he wants to make you feel uncomfortable and disprove your concept of "the one thing." To interpret this, which seems wildly inappropriate and ironic, the film acts as a Rorschach Test for the viewer. This explains the more esoteric choices to the film. Showing random images without context forces the audience to bring their own cognitive biases to the film. Without story setup, we have to imbue these objects with ourselves. If we sympathize with Ullmann, we see Andersson as unhinged, possibly with a breakdown of her own happening. The objects become troublesome and polarizing. If we associate with Andersson, we see Ullmann as a master manipulator, causing Andersson to lose focus on grounded reality. The objects are part of her master plan and a reflection of Andersson's fragile psyche. I give this theory some credence because I never really understand Bergman completely. I have moments of "a-ha!", but that tends to vanish and I have to pretend that I really get what is going on. I suppose that is ironic and appropriate because my own cognitive biases hope that everyone else only gets a fraction of the imagery on screen. If Bergman is making a film that is intentionally supposed to destabilize the framing narrative, then all interpreations are right and all interpretations are wrong. The only thing I would have right in this analysis is that I'm probably wrong. I liked this movie, but it also seemed way more in-my-face than I'm used to seeing from Bergman. I always kind of shied away from Lars von Trier and this reminded me too much of his works. I'm not saying that is bad. I'm saying that it definitely put me in an uncomfortable place. I can say that I'm happy that it got me thinking. That's the point of film and I always appreciate a cinematic challenge. You’re digging in the right place this week if you want to hear us take a look at the Indiana Jones tetralogy of films. Two belong in a museum they’re so good; the other two got lost in their own museums? See which is which in our action-packed episode! http://literallyanything.net/blog/2019/4/2/episode-73-literally-indiana-jones Rated R. While the film isn't overtly sexual in nature, there is some sex and nudity on screen. There is also pretty intense language and some mild violence. The entire movie is a little bit on the bleak side, so some of this violence is directed towards women. This is a world of hate and racism. This isn't the Disneyfied racism of some films. Rather, this completely lets the audience see what racism looks like. R.
DIRECTOR: Barry Jenkins I think that I'm starting to undertake too much. I'm starting to get a little bit frayed. I got this big spike in readership and I absolutely adore it. But if I missed a day of writing before, I knew that my small amount of followers would be able to handle it. Now, if I skip a day, I'm going to lose thousands of readers. My problems, am I right? I will say that watching movies with that kind of pressure on me places undue stress on the movies themselves. If I'm rougher on If Beale Street Could Talk, I think I might have to chalk it up to that. I had only so many minutes in a day and I'm rushing to get this done. I apologize in advance. When the Academy Awards released their list, I knew that there was little chance of me seeing If Beale Street Could Talk. I watched the trailer with my wife and we both thought that the trailer looked absolutely phenomenal. But it came out right at the tail end of 2018. There were so many movies and If Beale Street Could Talk wasn't in the running for any of the huge categories. The digital release wasn't going to happen before the Oscars actually premiered, which means one thing: I probably wasn't going to watch it. It's a terrible mentality, but I will knock out almost every single entry in every single category...until I find the results. I don't really get the kick in the pants to watch these movies after it's over. I know. That makes me a bad person. A good movie should be a good movie. But I also know that it is kind of a big ask to ask my wife to watch yet another movie when sometimes we just want to watch silly things. Regardless, we are absorbing content. I didn't realize Barry Jenkins directed this movie when I was watching it. Okay, that's not completely true. I knew that Barry Jenkins directed this movie, but I didn't remember what I knew Barry Jenkins from. Now that I have IMDB up on my other tab, yeah, it totally makes sense. Barry Jenkins is the Moonlight guy. I wasn't the biggest Moonlight fan in the world. But what Jenkins got completely perfect about Moonlight was that it didn't pull punches. If Beale Street Could Talk is about not pulling punches. It isn't being raw to be raw, but rather showing that America has become completely inhospitable to minorities and people of color. I'm going to compound that statement by saying that America is even worse to women of color. If Beale Street Could Talk is something special in a way that I have to kind of take apart for a second. Beale Street isn't the first politically charged narrative ever. I tend to lean that way nowadays. I could chalk it up to a lot of things, but I know what major moment in recent history has probably inspired that. But Barry Johnson actually has something unique with his politics here. Most films that are politically charged focus on one element of an experience. If the movie is focused on racism, it is focused on just racism. If the movie is focused on prison reform, the movie is just focused on prison reform. Guns, drugs, whatever. Political movies tend to have a bit of a blinders thing on. I can't say that's the worst movie in the world. Films tend to have about two hours to convince their audience that a movement is important enough. At the same time, they can't really be preachy because the film needs to still have emotional and entertainment value. (These are broad strokes. I don't want to get "No True Scotsman"ed right now.) But If Beale Street Could Talk removes the blinders from the message. It says that all of these things are connected. Racism is tied to sexism. Prison reform is tied to both. Rape accusers should be believed, but that doesn't mean that corrupt police officials won't take advantage of that. If Beale Street Could Talk is important, not because it is a complex moral tale alone. It's because it treats its morality as complex, yet frustrating. Characters in the movie view white America as scheming and deceptive and they may be right. This isn't the world where there are happy endings because we deserve happy endings. This is a world where the goal lines are constantly being pushed back and there is nothing that the characters can do about it. It's not saying that there aren't good white people. I know that is a knee jerk reaction that people can have. But it says that having some good white people isn't enough. The entire system needs to be reformed and that doesn't look like it is really going to happen. I was distracted while watching the movie. Nothing says, "Enjoy a movie" than having to do the mental math about whether or not I can finish the whole thing during a few lunch breaks. But I don't know if I can pin all of that on the timeline. Like Moonlight, the movie is absolutely gorgeous to look at. You have these absolutely unstoppable performances throughout the piece. With the exception of one moment that felt like a stage performance, everything is executed almost flawlessly. But there are large swaths of time that didn't grab my attention. Part of that can probably be chalked up to the fact that Barry Jenkins is a slow burn kind of director. His characters get to these changes very slowly and almost inperceptively. Yes, the characters do change. I love how the age of these characters is repeated throughout the film that this is a more-important-coming-of-age film. Characters are both making physical changes in their lives, but these changes match their emotional changes as well. I didn't know that this movie was what it was going to be. Looking at the trailer, I thought that the movie was going to focus on the two families coming together. That scene in the trailer is in the movie and it is even more powerful in the context of the film. Also, the scene is way more R-rated than the trailer version. But I honestly thought that the movie was about two ideologies and finding ways to move around it. Instead, the movie is really about Tish rather than her baby. The baby is coloring the entire story. I don't want to diminish the fact that her unborn child is a motivating factor in a lot of this film. But Tish's pregnancy grounds the timetable of the film. There is a sense of urgency to get Fonny out of prison based on the growth of her stomach. The justice system, if I had to pick one thing out of the whole rigamarole that I listed above, might be the centerpiece of the film. With Tish's baby on the horizon, what seems to be a small stay in jail while things are settled in the real world becomes a story of lies and deceit. I think of Eva DuMarnay's 13th and how much of the world might be unaware of what the justice system really is. I want to believe in the justice system. I think I would live a better life if I could wrap my head around the fact that people in prison deserve to be there. But there seems to be more and more evidence that says that institutionalized racism produces shortcuts towards convictions. But where is the focus? Yes, the movie is important, but it doesn't forget that it is a story first and a means to change second. It doesn't prioritize so much as it realizes that good stories and good art make the difference when eliciting change. Think about Of Mice and Men or The Grapes of Wrath. (Sorry, I'm a big Steinbeck fan.) Okay, think To Kill a Mockingbird. Those stories wear their messages on their sleeves. But those stories, while being powerful, resonate because we relate to the characters. Before I publish this analysis, I want to look at the story of the other grandmother. I mentioned that I thought that this was the center of the story to begin with. But it is something of a telling moment. The scene is really something that leaves you in a polarized place. Mrs. Hunt is toxic. She is the kind of character that instantly makes you cringe, especially if you are of a religious background. She is full of hate and uses her hate to justify her actions. She thinks that she is among the righteous and that is the worst. She treats Tish and the rest of the family like dirt. That's even before the big pregnancy reveal. But then we have her husband, who at first comes across as sympathetic. He almost comes across as saintlike because he puts up with Mrs. Hunt. But then we see the abuse. It's such a moment. She has disdain for him, but her hurt isn't specifically from the hit. It's the fact that, for a moment, she looked weak in front of Tish's family. That's really something dark. What is their life like? They maybe inhabit six minutes of the movie? Six consecutive minutes. They never come back. I thought that they were going to be throughout the film. Mr. Hunt shows up for a second scene after he's been shown to be a terrible human being. But these characters are deep. We have kind of an over-the-top racist cop. We have lots of characters who aren't really developed, but some of the smaller characters of the movie are deep. We have Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, but we also have the guy from Atlanta, Brian Tyree Henry. He plays Daniel maybe for three minutes. But that moment gives us such insight into the true horrors of the prison system. Also, Dave Franco is just a character that has even less of a role in the overall story. Why are these the characters that are developed? The story is named If Beale Street Could Talk. I can't help but get a connection with The House on Mango Street. If this story is about Tish and Fonny, maybe they are only a small part of the overall story. Tish narrates the events, very much like Mango Street. These other characters are fleshed out and developed, possibly as a sign that they are the protagonists of their own narratives. Daniel's life is terrible off camera. That might be a very real thing that the storytellers wanted to communicate. It's a bummer that I was stressed out about watching this movie because everything about it was very impressive. I need to backlog some of these and find them enjoyable once again. I never really wanted this blog to become a job. Rated R for butt nudity and people in their underwears. (Yeah, I pluralized it.) There's language. People are often mean. There's some drinking and drug use. Is it overly offensive? Probably not. In 2004, I thought it was the most hardcore movie that I owned. But it's 2019 and I'm a broken person. I might even watch this movie with my mom. That all being said, yeah, it's R.
DIRECTOR: Michel Gondry Why have I always avoided putting this movie into my Top 5 film collection? It has safely earned its way there. I know that it is me losing street cred. Throwing Michel Gondry's most famous and most impressive film into my Top 5 is such an easy answer, but it is so good. I even avoided watching it for years in hopes that I would stretch my tastes out a little more. Yeah, the movie held a lot more value for me when I was an angsty single obsessed with how the world was full of unfair situations involving unfair people. Now that I'm happier and married and pretty comfortable with the way my life is going, I wondered if Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind still held the same value. It may not be the same thing, but it also confirmed that the movie is really that good. There are a handful of "rom-coms" for insecure guys. I don't deny that I love these movies. Eternal Sunshine is on that list. High Fidelity and probably 500 Days of Summer probably hit that list as well. I'm not at all implying that these movies are exclusively for this demographic. But nothing confirmation biases the world as a terrible place for romance better than these movies. They are emotionally manipulative and completely devoid of saccharine. But these movies are pretty still kind of amazing. I mean, I have to revisit High Fidelity some day. I really have to revisit 500 Days of Summer because that was never one of my big ones. But these movies really strike something primal in their viewing audiences because I'm a really different person than I was when I first watched it. I mean, Eternal Sunshine is a break up movie. It has a really bittersweet ending. For a rom-com to imply that things may not actually work out, but they might. Mind as well with one of the characters burying the other. I can see my video store buddy completely cutting me off from this blog when I talk about this movie. He'd probably chalk it up to pretentious art crap. But I really like this pretentious art crap. There are two geniuses at work here that should always work together. Charlie Kaufman and Michel Gondry tend to make special things. Yeah, I'm going to go with Michel Gondry, mainly because I love his aesthetic and seemingly more positive disposition when it comes to his filmmaking style. But Charlie Kaufman might be the smartest screenwriter of our generation. The thing about Eternal Sunshine is that it is remarkably well crafted from moment one and proceeding throughout. There's so much going on in this film that it is actually a disservice to it to segment and pull it apart. Watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is like looking at an art instillation made of garbage. If you aren't paying attention, it looks like trash and that you could make that. But every time you look at something with a critical eye, it is contributing to the bigger piece as a whole. Trying to separate those elements somehow reduces everything else in the collective. Looking at the narrative and separating it from the visuals somehow weakens the whole. Please, be aware that I'm trying my best to talk about the cohesiveness of the piece as a whole as I dissect individual elements. This is where wording and language starts to fall apart and I completely acknowledge that. But I adore this film and know that my little corner of the Internet isn't going to disturb the whole masterpiece. I just don't have that power and I don't even want that kind of power. From a narrative point of view, the movie is kind of genius in itself. Yeah, a lesser director would have wrecked this film, but Kaufman's script is near perfect. A messed up chronology is exactly what this movie needed. Part of what the script does is offer something that hasn't really been experienced through sensory information. If the movie offers the characters a surgical removal of memory, the movie manages to make us feel what that would be like. It provides us key information. Joel is miserable. He goes to Montauk. He meets Clementine, who wears her character on her sleeve (or hair) from just two seconds of screen time. But then the movie lets us in on the secret. We think that we're getting one movie when we actually get something very, very different. I suppose, by default, we have to consider Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as a genre movie. I know that the word "genre" somehow translates out to "lesser". But the use of genre opens new door. Perhaps it is hipster sci-fi. It offers little attempt at real science. But by not treating this like most genre sci-fi, the technology feels really lived in. It feels almost old and dated, despite the fact that no one really knows what this technology involves. The movie also acts on the conceit that this would work. It teases that some people wouldn't be part of the program. But it also mirrors our culture of making sure that people are happy before anything else. In this small detail, the fact that David Cross's character has to confess to Joel what is going on, is buried the message of the story. Honestly, while the movie isn't by any means super-Catholic, Kaufman and Gondry are pointing at the fallibility of "happiness" as an end to itself. Joel's attempt to remove Clementine as a medical procedure defines true happiness as something I normally don't see in film or storytelling. Joel realizes quickly that Clementine, the cause of his pain and misery, is also what makes him in the long run truly happy. Yes, she treats him terribly. He was also terrible and he regrets the way he acted. But those moments happened. That pain was part of who he was. The reason that his pain was so intense was because he was so happy. The more truly happy we are, the more we are desperate to return to that happiness. Instead, the couple only viewed their own happiness instead of looking to the happiness of the other. When the miserable stuff is stripped from Joel, he realizes that he has to hold on desperately to those happy moments as well. If anything, it is a tale of Joel making the same mistakes in a new way. There's a scene where Clementine is annoyed with Joel, so he pretends to be a murdered corpse. It's meant to repeat the past. Joel and Clementine bond over morbid humor, pretending to suffocate each other with pillows. The one picture that Joel finds after all is said and done is a picture of Clementine's head on a skeleton body. But that moment isn't what is needed. Some honest discussion is needed. Some vulnerability is necessary. But instead, Joel tries taking the easy route. The whole process of having Clementine removed is the easy route. Trying to hold onto her to change his mind is the easy route. It just never really feels like the easy route. It's so brilliant. I know that this is all my analysis, but that all plays out the way it is supposed to. But then Gondry creates something on top of that. He has this amazing canvas to work with and he really strikes every moment. It's so bizarre because Gondry somehow both embraces his sci-fi conventions, but presents them in the most trippy way. I love Gondry. I won't shut up about that. My friend Pat got me the music videos of Michel Gondry and they are one of two collections that I own of music videos. I've never been a big music buff. I like my small collections, but I'm actually pretty ashamed of my iTunes account. But Gondry makes music come alive. I always think of directors as masters of the visual, but Gondry somehow ties the audio so intimately with his visuals that I can't help but applaud his music video background. Setting this story in the world of dreams is also interesting. I now understand that perhaps following this movie with The Science of Sleep is a little derivative, but I like that movie as well. Gondry has two tasks to undertake visually. He has to both communicate what dreams are for us and what memories are for us. Joel's mental state as a psychic warzone is very appropriate. But Gondry never really puts it so on the nose like that. Instead, we have things crumbling and falling apart. Early in the dream, there are little things. These little things I notice each time I watch the movie. More and more keep showing up. As the film progresses, these moments become more and more obvious. But the small changes of reality reward eagle-eyed viewers of what is expected. He doesn't just do this in Joel's psyche, but also carries that reward system to what the film considers the real world. Patrick and his bag of stuff is really interesting to pay attention to. Kaufman included Patrick as this toxic influence. He's the nice guy character, which is funny because Clementine loathes the word "nice." Is it because she spent so much time with Joel? I'm not sure. I kind of read into that and the word "Nice" has become poisonous to her. But Patrick has stolen a bunch of stuff from Clementine and tries Groundhog Daying her. He has information that is unfair to tip the scales. He's taking Joel's best hits and playing those moments over again. But look how those moments play out for Joel in his psyche. (Wait, did Clementine go to the Charles River twice in 24 hours? That explains her freak out.) But there's a letter that has a photo in it. That photo, playing into Joel's memory and his thoughts about young Clementine, is so revealing and such great foreshadowing. It's this powerful moment that ties back into something that we didn't need explained, but we had explored organically. The movie is filled with them. Objects have value and everything really matters in the movie. It's odd how Kaufman dances around some very serious issues of morality here. Mary's story as a B-story is almost more telling about the dangerous nature of patriarchy. I mean, Patrick's predatory, nice-guy persona is on the nose. But then there's Howard and Mary. That story doesn't seem to be anything on the surface. (I'd like to interject something light-hearted before the analysis gets terribly bleak. It's so weird to see some of today's biggest actors as tiny little baby people. I feel like this movie is new, but it totally isn't.) But Mary's story is kind of heart-breaking. Why does Howard let her work with him? SPOILER: They go through all of these mind-wipes, time and again. His wife knows about the relationship with Mary. Is she there as almost pornography. He had this relationship with Mary. He gets to remember his past, but Mary wipes her own memory. She keeps getting the short end of this entire situation. Stan even kind of suspects that there was something going on at one point. He accuses Patrick of all this moral ambiguity while he is kind of pulling off the same card. Okay, I really want to throw Patrick under the bus more than Stan, because Patrick had foreknowledge versus suspicion. But looking at Stan and Mary's relationship that entire time is interesting. Does Mary actually like Stan? She cheats on him in front of Stan. Stan is standing outside the window and he doesn't seem all that shocked. In fact, his first reaction to protect Howard. He lays on the horn and Howard runs out to save his marriage. But remember, if he had not known about Howard and Mary, would he be so quick to defend Howard? Howard, from his perspective, would have been kissing his girlfriend. Stan keeps ragging on Patrick, but there's a definite sense that men are kind of pathetic and would use this technology for evil. It's a real bummer, guys. But what is that also saying? This is 2004. I think we might be at the height of ironic political incorrectness. We were borderline prideful as a people about how regressive we could be. But then, Kaufman writes this narrative about good guys becoming bad guys, bad guys pretending to be good guys, and everything in between. Yeah, Clementine comes off as pretty rough throughout the piece, but Joel doesn't come out smelling like a rose either. Remember, a lot of the film is coming from Joel's perspective. He's got the rose colored glasses on himself and he still realizes that he's made some mistakes. I can't say that Eternal Sunshine outright condemns a lot of this behavior, but it does paint it in a fairly negative light. It's pretty bananas. Yeah, it's a break-up movie. I like bummer endings on things. But Joel and Clementine still are one of my favorite couples, despite and almost because they are so fractured. There's so much going on here. Despite the fact that Eternal Sunshine isn't formally a genre film, it grabs the best attribute from genre films. It points a moral compass on possibilities. It lets us see the human condition through the lens of "What if?" If we had this technology, what would be the first way that we abuse it? It's tragic and it is watch a death in reverse. But it doesn't lose its heart, nor does it get bogged down in a downer tone, despite the fact that the content would justify it. Instead, like a good funeral, it doesn't mourn the end, but celebrate the life that made us all that much emptier. PG-13, but boy-oh-boy, were we pushing it in 2001? There's some pretty intense language throughout the movie. It's not like it's a full on R at any point, but I'd consider this one on the fence. Also, considering that it is Vegas, Ocean's Eleven dances around (pun intended) strippers in the area. There's a lot of close calls on nudity, despite not actually having nudity on screen. PG-13.
DIRECTOR: Steven Soderbergh How does this movie hold up? I don't know if I can actually enjoy Men in Black anymore. High school was all about Men in Black and Ocean's Eleven. But at this point, I didn't think any of those movies from high school really held up. The thing that may have helped Ocean's Eleven is that I hadn't visited it since my college days. Heck, I thought that I still owned this movie. Apparently I didn't, so now I have a digital copy of it. But Ocean's Eleven still stands as the triumphant film of the four films. Before I go on, I still have to preach about how much I enjoyed Ocean's 8. I'm probably going to slag off the others, but please remove Ocean's 8 from that list unless stated otherwise. I forgot how much fun this movie was. The thing is, I remembered how they pulled of the heist. I didn't remember much of the movie leading into the story, but I do remember the actual result. I am so tempted to spoil that, but I realize there are a lot of people who haven't seen Ocean's Eleven, primarily any of my students who aren't in my film club. But this is a movie that works for one reason while the others really don't. (Again, look at the numbers. Ocean's 8 follows this rule.) Ocean's Eleven needs eleven guys. (I don't know why it has to be completely male. I blame that on 2001.) I know it is a remake of the Sinatra film, but every person is used extremely well in this film. The plan actually calls for eleven people. Not everyone gets the same spotlight and that kind of sucks. It really is about the big three: Clooney, Pitt, and Damon. But everyone who is in on this plan contributes to this plan in a meaningful way and that's what makes the story work. I kind of feel like the planning of this movie is what builds to its genius. Rather than finding things for characters to do, the screenwriters honestly tried planning the best heist humanly possible. I wouldn't be surprised if this movie didn't even start as a remake to the original Ocean's 11 because it definitely feels like this was just a good heist movie. I tend to compare a lot of heist movies to this film because Ocean's Eleven delivers on a promise that a lot of heist movies really don't. From start to finish, the movie keeps the viewer both involved and in-the-dark for how this is all going to come across. A good con movie has the audience think that they are in on the plan. They don't outright lie to them, but they misdirect. One thing is actually another thing. Matt Damon's Linus Caldwell is the perfect character for this piece because Linus is the closest thing to an avatar for the audience. He knows a lot. He feels like he is entitled to privileged information, but he's having something hidden from him as well. As Linus gets flustered, we too get flustered. We question behavior and build distrust. But then Linus is let in on the plan and all is forgiven. It's a really great bait-and-switch there. What's interesting with Linus is that most avatars don't play active character roles. They are there to report and establish a proper response for these actions. But consider that I am the Linus in this situation, I kind of hate Linus. I hope that doesn't really reflect one me, but I tend to hate myself a lot of the time anyway. When Linus goes off plan, I tend to yell at him in my mind. (I had a room full of students. I had to be a pro.) What Soderbergh gets really right in this movie is the idea that this is more than a heist for old pros like the characters involved. Yeah, it's not personal for a lot of them. Basher is there as a hire, as are a lot of the characters in the story. But tying Danny and Tess's relationship as the lynch pin of this film is actually fascinating. The movie deceives me at one point in the film and makes a false promise. This entire blog is about how I'm a hypocrite sometimes. I hate false promises in movies. If a movie establishes the stakes very clearly, undoing that usually makes me furious. At one point, the stakes laid out by Danny are the money for Tess. It's a romantic and vulnerable move in the midst of a rather broey movie. I think I want to break down why this false promise works when other false promises are outright lies. I might use the Harry Potter franchise as my example for when a false promise is a lie. In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II (It's a film blog, guys), Harry breaks one of the rules of wizarding laws. There's a spell that is so evil that it is a violation of what is considered good and just. However, he uses the curse and nothing really happens. Harry never really faces any consequences and the story just progresses, justifying his actions as a whole. He still is allowed to keep the hero status while the film continues onwards. However, Danny's gambit for Tess is more of a mislead. Danny sacrifices something else to get the answer he wanted. That, by itself, may seem like a cop-out, but I want to put that in a different light. By offering Benedict a reset, he's not just putting his own reputation on the line. By default, he's gambling with someone else's stake. If he gave Benedict what he wanted, the other ten members would be out of luck. He made an offer that he couldn't possibly pay out. Yeah, this seems like a minor change. But what the result of the situation is that the protagonist actually has a justifiable reason to have his cake and eat it too. Danny uses his skills with the intention of having his cake and eating it too. In this moment, we find out that the entire heist isn't about revenge, at least not directly. Rather, this entire thing was a gamble for this moment. He was fighting for Tess. The alternative, actually, is more interesting. Let's flip the script and have Benedict be a good guy. Imagine if Benedict chooses Tess in that moment. Danny actually gambles what little hope he has with Tess for this one bet. If Benedict chose Tess, Danny becomes the villain of the story. It means that Benedict was actually the hero and becomes sympathetic throughout. Yeah, Danny gets the money. But he is fundamentally finished. The only way that he could even open doors with Tess again is to give back the money. The bet is actually still in tact and that's a really rad move throughout. I'm trying to think of movies that have actually used an ensemble as well as this film did. I can only think of the original The Magnificent Seven and It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. There's something absolutely spectacular about a really good ensemble film that makes it feel like it is something special. I know that I've never really been into sports, nor will I ever get into sports, but I have to imagine this is what a good All Star team is like. Every part in this is phenomenally cast and I absolutely enjoy the dynamics between the varying personalities throughout. This is and probably always will be a fun movie. There's stuff to analyze, sure, but the deeper I go, the more I want to turn back to the fact that I can just watch this as pure entertainment. But what makes it so fun? It has a really snappy script and I forgot how good that entire element was to the story. The movie is playful, but cool. I think I can probably chalk this up to the absolutely rad soundtrack, which I'm actually having a hard time finding on YouTube. (It's how I get in the mindset of the film while I'm writing. What, it's the writer's process!) But there's something charming about the main characters. I don't know what Pitt and Clooney necessarily have that works so well, but it really does. Is it Pitt's decision to eat in every scene? I know that this isn't isolated to the Ocean's movies, but he's going above and beyond. I don't know why I'm such a fan of Clooney. It's probably the same thing that everyone else likes about the guy. But Clooney doesn't exactly give a wide range on this film. But that's exactly what I want. Look at Danny's highs and lows in this film. Clooney isn't giving Danny anything except for confidence, which is appropriate for a confidence man. How is that compelling to us? As a character, Danny is kind of the Willy Wonka of the casino theft world. We never really know what emotional stakes we're dealing with when it comes to Danny, but we know those stakes exist. I'm going to pat myself on the back for that Willy Wonka comparison because Wonka, at one point, loses his mind. Danny is madly in love with Tess. He's doing all of this to get Tess back. He imprisons himself to get Tess back. He risks his freedom to do that. There is an emotional core to his choices. But he never really lets us see that. Rather, Pitt needs to verbalize that he's emotionally attached to the whole thing. It's an interesting choice and I really like that element of the character. But maybe that's also what makes it so tiring for the future films. Danny is never really allowed to grow. In one film, that cavalier attitude is perfect. But in future film, that confidence becomes a bit of a trait of a Mary Sue. Danny Ocean can't lose in future films. In this one, you really think that he loses at a few points in the story. It's great. It's that pain that is instantly undone. But confidence is hard to fall in love with. It is seductive, but it can't form a lasting relationship. Maybe I don't want a sequel to Ocean's 8 for that very reason. Yeah, there's all the Danny teasing stuff that's happening, but I like those characters as they are. I don't need to see it happen again. I guess I realized that I'm very love-it-or-hate-it when it comes to heist and con man movies. The plan has to be perfect for me to really get on board. There need to be rules and the movie needs to know which rules to break. A lot of these movies, like the sequels to this film and also Matchstick Men (I loathed that film and I decided to shoehorn that into this review) telegraph their problems and don't really stick the landing. These movies ask us to invest in solving the problem and we love the fact that we don't quite get it on the first run. Ocean's Eleven is a smart film. It might be the best heist movie I've seen. It's got great dialogue. The star power is actually magnetic. It's funny and engaging. What else could I be asking for from a heist film? |
Film is great. It can challenge us. It can entertain us. It can puzzle us. It can awaken us.
AuthorMr. H has watched an upsetting amount of movies. They bring him a level of joy that few things have achieved. Archives
April 2024
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