11.22.2011

i'll love you until the end of the world

if i made lists, i have no doubt that come the end of the year jeff nichols' take shelter (2011) would be on it.

in the film, michael shannon play curtis laforche, an everyman living in small town ohio (though it could be anywhere). he is a loving husband, devoted father to a young, hearing-impaired daughter, good friend and solid worker. he is the embodiment of main street, u.s.a. in these troubled times when a lot of bad things are happening to a lot of good people. in addition to the very relatable pressures of making ends meet and health care costs that must be dealt with, he begins to suffer from dreams of an apocalypse. every night's sleep is fitful and he is plagued with visions of a gathering storm, the likes of which has never been seen. a viscous rain similar to motor oil falls, cyclones and tremendous arcs of lightning fill the horizon, birds careen through the air in dazzling and troubling patterns only to fall from the sky and humans and animals are driven violently insane.

the dreams begin to edge their way into curtis' waking life. pain from wounds obtained in the dreams lingers throughout the day. he begins to doubt his sanity. true to his character, he quietly, pragmatically tries to address it. there is a history of mental illness in the family, as his mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and has been in the hospital or assisted living for twenty-five years. he takes reasonable steps; visiting his doctor, doing research at the local library, seeing a counselor. none of it is enough, though. as much as he wants to keep a lid on things, the overwhelming fear of the coming storm compels him to obsessively work on the family's storm shelter. his increasingly erratic behavior results in him losing his job and friends. small town whispers about his precarious mental state come to a head at a lions club dinner and the approaching storm becomes very real, resulting in a long, dark night of the soul for the family as they wait in the shelter for it to pass.

from the first frame, it is riveting. it begins with one of the increasingly terrifying nightmare sequences, quickly establishing an atmosphere of cold dread and unsure footing that nichols expertly maintains throughout. michael shannon proves once again that he is one of the best american actors working today. he and nichols pick up right where they left off with the excellent shotgun stories (2007) and craft an even more assured and quietly harrowing portrait of american unraveling. he conveys every painful nuance of a good man who fears his own mind. all the little things that you count on in a husband and a father are there and, though much of it is elliptical, as the film finds him turning inward for the first half, all that he does is clearly for the benefit of his wife and daughter. his secrecy is never meant to deceive, only to protect, as he struggles to maintain and understand his own thoughts. as his compulsion to expand the shelter overrides all other concerns, putting his family's house and daughter's health at risk, it is only because he knows that the storm in his visions will render these other concerns moot. you can see his constant struggle to contain himself in every nearly-imperceptible wince and in the simple rigidity of how he sits just a little too straight. when he finally breaks and reveals the extent of his madness to the whole town in a very public meltdown, it leaves you with such a sick, sad feeling and when he shouts at them, in a perfectly written phrase, that "if this thing comes true there ain't gonna be any more" it is frightening enough to make every single person in that room wonder just how much he has right.

the photography is simple and elegant and the nightmare sequences are very effective, relying mainly on tapping into fears that must be universal to a simple family man, rather than computer-generated animation (they use that judiciously). the electrical storm is also a beautiful metaphor for both looming socioeconomic troubles and curtis' mind, constantly growing more imposing, firing uncontrollably. the whole cast does a fantastic job with well written material. shannon isn't a surprise, of course. the guy is a powerhouse. the film's best kept secret, however, is jessica chastain.

she is just outstanding in this, matching michael shannon step for step, no small feat in itself. it wouldn't be half the film it is without her. she is steadfast and true, protective of her family, patient but no pushover. she is a wife that a husband can trust implicitly. it is her strength that makes it believable when curtis finally confesses his fears to her. she deserves to know and makes it easy to take her into his confidence. she deftly walks the delicate line between being tough enough to keep her household intact and being the understanding, loving caregiver to a husband who may be losing his mind. as frightening as it must be to feel your mind slipping away, and being acutely conscious of it, there is an entirely equal set of anxieties and helpless fears for the person who has to watch it happening to the person they love. the pressure on her to be a wife and mother, while having no one to help carry her burden, would have to be immense. chastain gives us every bit of this and more. it's never cartoonish or exaggerated, just good, real people, devoted to each other, an understated and fine portrayal of a marriage that could survive everything up to the apocalypse.

i know that some folks have had a problem with the ending of the film. i am not one of them. i think that it works and i think that, while a more ambiguous ending would have left you with a puzzle about curtis' mental state that was satisfying in a different way, this resolution reinforces all the things i liked about the movie and was in keeping with the horrors that curtis couldn't suppress. it is a beautiful, stark and terrifying survey of an american landscape that finds a lot of people full of fear, one bad break away from being on the street.

what is in that storm on the horizon?

trailer tuesday

this week's entry is for one of japan's most surreal celluloid fever dreams, teruo ishii's horrors of malformed men (1969).

11.21.2011

amen, brother

once again, david lynch gets to the heart of things.

11.20.2011

thankfully, starlite

our hardy band of cinephiles reconvened this evening for this year's thanksgiving edition of the starlite cinema series.

it was an unseasonably warm (as if that exists in central texas anymore) evening for late november so it didn't feel as much like thanksgiving as it might have. the smiths didn't let that slow them down, though, as they made a batch of the best apple cider i have had in my life.

a beautiful evening, excellent company, the house full of the smell of apples, cinnamon, citrus, clove and nutmeg. what else do you need? movies, that's what. we started our program with the looney tunes cartoon, holiday for drumsticks (1949). then, in keeping with our gustatory theme, we took in a short from czech animator, and vitagraph favorite, jan svankmajer. for those of you unable to make it tonight, i can't show you the feature or make your house smell as good, but i can pass the short along. here, for your enjoyment, is svankmajer's food (1992)



we then moved on to our feature for the evening, jodie foster's home for the holidays (1995). we were fewer in number this time around, what with a lot of our friends being on the road, but a good time was still had by all. tonight also marked a milestone for us as it was exactly a year ago that lauren and stephen first opened their home to us, providing us with a perfect space in which to get together and watch films. thanks to everyone that comes out, we're always glad to see you, and happy anniversary to my partners in cinema!

i am putting together our late december program right now. expect to see that information in the next week or so. if you're not overwhelmed with holiday demands, or especially if you are, you should come by, relax and take in a movie with us. there's always room for one more.

11.15.2011

trailer tuesday

this week's entry is for my favorite woody allen film, stardust memories (1980).

11.14.2011

hello, joe, what do you know?

so it's time to put another installment of queue de grĂ¢ce to bed. many thanks to my guest curator, joe turner.

look at him there, in his element, slinging books, rocking out. here is the complete list of what joe selected for me this week:

the life of reilly (2006)
g.i. joe: the rise of cobra (2009)
moulin rouge! (2001)
crank 2 : high voltage (2009)
the secret of kells (2009)
oliver! (1968)
the three musketeers (1973)
the four musketeers: milady's revenge (1974)
jesus christ superstar (1973)
fritz the cat (1972)
don't play us cheap (1973)
streets of fire (1984)
burn, witch, burn (1962)
flash gordon (1980)
the secret of NIMH (1982)
hardware (1990)
bedazzled (1967)
across 110th street (1972)
gambit (1966)
zulu (1964)

there are a lot of things represented there that joe and i share a deep fondness for - peter cook, michael caine, oliver reed, yaphet kotto, the witty sixties, the gritty seventies. he certainly threw me into the deep end with the musicals, though, and if weren't for one fortunate/merciful choice i might have gone into black and white withdrawal. still and all, it's always fun to see how the other half lives. something interesting always comes out of this experience. this time around i was surprised at how often i would have liked to have been watching these films with joe. there may be a point where i incorporate that as part of the proceedings, at least with one or two titles. maybe a separate one-off deal, a podcast debate (which would have been ideal with joe), a group viewing, a trip to the theater written as a joint entry. who knows? the queue continues to evolve and i am open to ideas, so fire away if you have them. i am game to expand the scope of the queue and/or incorporate them as new recurring features. maybe we can work in a new wrinkle or two next month as the queue returns in early december for another go-round. in the meantime, my sincere thanks to everyone for following along and a special thank you to joe for assembling this cinematic mixtape for me. had a wonderful time, wish you were here.

11.13.2011

joe-up: day seven

and on the seventh day joe rested and let michael caine take over. the first half of our double feature finale is ronald neame's gambit (1966).

michael caine and shirley maclaine are in fine form in this nimble and clever caper film. caine is international burglar harry dean and he has formulated a plan to relieve the richest man in the world of a priceless bust. maclaine is nicole chang, the hong kong dancing girl who is crucial to the ploy. she bears an uncanny resemblance to both the target's late wife and the statuette and her presence all but guarantees them an audience with the man and entry into his home. the plan works seamlessly and as maclaine provides the distraction, caine makes off with the bust. a perfect plan executed to the letter. or, at least that's how it works when caine explains it to an accomplice. in reality, things are a little different. nothing goes according to plan. their relationship is contentious from the start and their mark is on to them from the second their plane touches down. he lays a trap for them which they apparently stumble right into. from there it's a series of dizzying, yet mostly plausible, twists that make for a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. this movie is great fun. caine is fantastic, overestimating his abilities as an international criminal without ever coming across as arrogant, unappealing or a broadly comic bungler. he is constantly being exposed as not quite as talented or sophisticated as he thinks and shirley maclaine picks up his slack admirably, providing an occasional burst of charm and worldliness in a character that could have easily been undone by playing her as too world-weary. neame's direction is fleet, playful and on the money. it all makes for a lean, funny and entertaining film. it would make a great companion piece to yesterday's bedazzled (1967) actually, as neame as stanley donen share some similarities - an efficient, light touch, an excellent understanding of the importance of capturing chemistry and an approach to comedy with an emphasis on cleverness, style and wit that smartens you up rather than dumbing things down. as heist films go, though lightweight, this is one of the better ones. highly recommended.

we end our experiment this week with caine's first major starring role in cy endfield's epic, zulu (1964).

it's an account of the battle of rorke's drift in 1879 between british military forces and the zulu nation. a handful of british soldiers have been left to defend an outpost that really isn't much more than a church, a supply station and a m.a.s.h. unit from an immense wave of zulu warriors, headed their way after a victory over a much larger british contingent. the odds are terrible for the british and retreat is not an option. the number of sick and wounded make that an impossibility. they have no choice but to fortify their position and wait. the zulu fighters descend on the encampment, in waves at first then in overwhelming numbers in one final clash. through a combination of luck, superior technology and one solid piece of strategy, the outnumbered british manage to finally fend off the zulus with both sides sustaining significant casualties. there is much to recommend about this film. it is exceedingly well made. caine does well playing against what would become type as a somewhat effete lieutenant, stanley baker is appropriately sturdy and pragmatic as the engineer who inherits the responsibility of commanding the detachment and gert van den bergh does a fine job as the voice of experience, as a survivor of the previous defeat. the photography is excellent and the vistas are simply stunning. they certainly took maximum advantage of the south african location shoots. the battle scenes, especially the climactic one, are fairly well staged, though there is a lack of blood common to that period in filmmaking that makes it harder to suspend disbelief. there are some historical inaccuracies, most of which fall within the normal, acceptable range of artistic license. the one thing that i can't get past, though, is a nagging feeling of post-colonial damage control. history is most certainly written by the victors and that is on full display here. it is true that endfield consulted with zulus during the making of the film, including direct descendants of participants in the battle, but it's hard to cheer an even moderately accurate portrayal of the defense of rorke's drift when you can draw a straight line from that to apartheid. it is telling, and hardly coincidental, that in a film literally called zulu you aren't given a single zulu character that you can name. there is a great deal to the film that is deeply troubling in this regard. i have my cultural biases too, though. it could be that as a comanche i am more sensitive than the average guy about white folks relating their version of how the deal went down in a fight with indigenous peoples. all in all, philosophically it is deeply flawed while remaining eminently watchable. it is a considerable cinematic achievement, very exciting but very vexing.

and with that, we put another queue to bed. well done, joe. i am now off to watch something that is the exact opposite of a musical, whatever that is.

11.12.2011

joe-up: day six

day six kicks off with the bleak, post-apocalyptic drawing room drama from richard stanley, hardware (1990).

i kid, a little. the movie opens to find a mysterious masked stranger sifting the sands of a wasteland for scrap to sell. he turns up a mechanized skull and other pieces of a robot and cashes them in. dylan mcdermott (not dermot mulroney) buys a handful of the pieces to take to his girlfriend, an artist who might find them useful. unbeknownst to everyone, these are far more than a conversation piece. they are the remnants of a m.a.r.k.-13 droid, a killing machine that can reassemble itself from whatever machinery it has handy and is intent on a little population control. as the handful of characters navigate their way through life, love and perversion in an ugly, violent future made of cast-off motherboards and memory chips, the droid gradually becomes more powerful and homicidal until the final act implodes in a hodepodge of two other, far superior final acts - the terminator (1984) and rear window (1954), with a touch of the shower scene from psycho (1960) for good measure - as the robot repeatedly tries to dispatch our heroine. it's an ill-conceived, but surprisingly technically well-executed, mishmash. it has too much ponderous dialogue, it revels in dimestore nihilism and silly religious imagery that is meant to be shocking but isn't and features a "killer robot" that somehow can't seal the deal with a target that never even manages to get out of her apartment. what it does have in its favor is an ingenuity of design that gets far more out of that one-room set than you would imagine and robot effects that are impressive on what had to be a very limited budget. i remember this being rather controversial at the time of its original release, having to be trimmed to avoid the dreaded x rating. watching it now, i can't see what they objected to so strenuously, unless the mpaa has strict rules about too much misdirected adolescent anger. as it is, if you were a college freshman in 1990, you came from a small town where you were the only one who knew who the revolting cocks were and you sat in your room and consoled yourself with the notion that one day all these sheep would pay, then this would have been your holy grail. these days, it's just one more for the scrap heap.

next up, actual wit! thank heavens for stanley donen's bedazzled (1967).

dudley moore plays stanley, unlucky in life and love, obsessed with the waitress he works with but unable to muster the courage to do anything about it, depressed to the point of suicide. along comes peter cook, my favorite screen devil of all time, to offer him a faustian deal he can't refuse - seven wishes to capture the heart of the girl of his dreams in exchange for his piddling mortal soul. if it's not working out to stanley's satisfaction he just has to make with the old bronx cheer and he can go back to square one and try the next wish. as you might suspect, old scratch has a way of finding the meaning in each wish that stanley never intended. soon, his wishes are running out and he is no closer to finding true love than when he started. having reached his quota of souls, the devil lets stanley off the hook, only to find he needs him more than stanley needs his diabolical assistance. stanley ends up with his self-respect and the eternal struggle between good and evil goes on, as funny as ever. this was a real high point of the week for me. peter cook is one of the sharpest, funniest men i have ever had the pleasure of watching and his chemistry with dudley moore is so perfect it's like they could do this in their sleep. cook's ear for satire was among the best of his generation and he delivers it all with impeccable timing and a bonhomie that belies the savagery of his wit. the wish vignettes are the weak point of the film, if there is one, because too often moore is left to carry the scene on his own. fortunately cook shows up in a number of them and when he isn't busy cannily deceiving stanley, he is engaging in all sorts of other constant minor mischief. there's not a second he is on screen that is not entertaining. i can't help but delight in his delight at being evil.



that glint in his eye is just right and there's always some little touch that you don't expect that only makes it funnier. him throwing his hat as well in that clip, for instance, and that tone is set from the very beginning. when stanley demands proof of his powers, asking him to manifest a popsicle for him, the devil takes him downstairs, gets on a bus, rides across town and buys him one. ta-da! hardly a bum note in the whole thing. donen keeps it appropriately breezy and the script is incisive and full of mildly blasphemous, completely hilarious bits. in the end, though, it really is all about the chemistry here. if you want to see a whip-smart comedy duo operating at the height of their powers, look no further. oh, and avoid the craptacular remake with brendan fraser from 2000 at all costs. it doesn't even deserve to be associated with this.

finally, we go from witty to gritty with barry shear's across 110th street (1972).

yaphet kotto and anthony quinn play a pair of police detectives who are investigating a botched rip-off of a mob bank that ended up with seven people dead. the three small-timers that perpetrated the crime have gone to ground in harlem and the mob is kicking over every stone until they can flush them out. it's a race between the gangsters and the police to put an end to the episode in the manner that serves each best. this tense, brutal film works hard to transcend its miscategorization as standard blaxploitation fare. it is as incendiary a portrayal of racial divisions - within criminal sub-strata, in the police's treatment of the community they serve and in society at large - as any major studio film from the period that i can remember having seen, leaving characters not only in conflict with each other, but with themselves for being silent partners in their own collateral degradation. anthony quinn, as the old-guard racist captain who has lived to see himself become obsolete, occasionally lays it on with a trowel, as he is wont to do, but a tightly coiled, by-the-book yaphet kotto and powerfully sympathetic stick-up artist paul benjamin easily make up the difference. no other city is ever going to topple early seventies new york as the acme of pitiless urban squalor and you couldn't find a more ideal backdrop to tell a story like this. everywhere you look in this film you find someone who is just not quite making it. someone's hungry, someone's broke, rancor and mistrust are the best you can hope for from the person who is your partner, the person you have to do business with. it's a grim scene and there are no happy endings and it's shot in such a perfectly oppressive, claustrophobic manner that you are never unaware of the pressure, tense at best, suffocating at worst, but never, ever free. it's a top notch crime thriller with a pair of outstanding performances, bold in its depiction of the inescapable climate of violence motivated by hatred as much as business and more grit than you can wash off. don't let people sell it short because of a genre tag.

our finale tomorrow finds us spending some quality time with an old favorite as we coast home.

let's hope his heist goes better than this last one.