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Mr. Bean's Holiday (2007)
So Much Stronger than the First Mr. Bean Film
My reasoning for not expecting much from Mr. Bean's Holiday was twofold: Firstly, I hated Bean, the first film of this series. It's cliché story was embarrassing and excessively Hollywood for a film based on a British television program. Also, in between a narrative I neither cared for or paid attention to, were all the same gags I had already seen on the television show (Remember Mr. Bean getting his head stuck inside the turkey?). Unlike the Kids in the Hall movie, Brain Candy and Beavis and Butthead Do America, this film did not bring anything new to the table beyond what television had already given us.
My second reason for not expecting Mr. Bean's Holiday to be worthwhile was it's title. It's obviously a tribute to the Jacques Tati film, Mr. Hulot's Holiday, the story of a Bean-like character's often hilarious romp through a vacation spot, causing chaos and mayhem amongst society's elite. Rowan Atkinson has cited Tati as a major influence for the Mr. Bean character and has even pointed out this film specifically as his masterpiece. Knowing this going into Mr. Bean's Holiday, I assumed the film would entail Rowan Atkinson performing Jacques Tati beat by beat. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Surprisingly, I found Mr. Bean's Holiday to be more of a Chaplin-esque version of Pee Wee's Big Adventure. Though the Tati influence is always apparent in the character of Mr. Bean, the gags in the film were some we haven't seen in over eighty years, paying homage to Chaplin more than anyone else, though there is some Buster Keaton in there as well.
The film begins with Mr. Bean winning a trip to Cannes at a church raffle. After a stop in Paris, along with a series of mishaps, Mr. Bean finds himself stuck at a train station in the middle of France, without his passport and with a child that does not speak English (or whatever language it is Mr. Bean speaks). Reminiscent of Chaplin's The Kid, the scenes between Mr. Bean and the child are some of the funniest, mostly because the language barrier opens up for Atkinson the possibility to do what he does best as the lovable character, communicate without words. Though it's a craft developed and sharpened by such geniuses as Chaplin and Keaton many years ago, nowadays, in a cinematic world in which most comedies are overflowing with poorly written jokes and the corniest of punchlines, it's refreshing to once again be amused by the lifting of an eyebrow or the wiggling of an ear. But Atkinson does more than that. He pushes the physical limitations of every scenario to the brink without seeming too "cartoony," as would most likely be the case if it were a Jim Carrey comedy. Like Chaplin's Tramp character, there is a sweet, tender side to Mr. Bean that is undeniable and is the backbone of our attraction. Even when Mr. Bean is inconsiderate, as is the case when he pours the inside of clamshells into a woman's purse, we can't help but sympathize since he seems to be put in a position where he doesn't have any other recourse.
William Defoe is amusing as the self-absorbed filmmaker who not only kicks Bean off the set of a commercial shoot but also instigates the final chase scene in Cannes as well. Ultimately, however, his character only serves the function of a nemesis and nothing more. Like the love interests in a Marx Brothers film, it is crucial for the sake of storytelling but not crucial to the story.
The story, in the end, is about the survival of a character who is truly an original, battling the limitations of society. Like Mr. Hulot, as well as Pee Wee Herman, The Tramp, and many other characters through the history of film, Mr. Bean endures because of his unique way of life, the unique manner he chooses to approach conflict, and his uncanny knack to achieve his goals, despite his, as well as society's, shortcomings.
Femme Fatale (2002)
Wake up, America!
Much like its director, Brian Depalma, Femme Fatale, a creatively slick crime drama that deconstructs the Hollywood archetype of the same name, has been completely ignored in this country since its release in 2002. Regardless, it is still a cinematically inventive masterpiece that utilizes every possible convention of the genre and then turns it upside down, in a way that only Brian Depalma can. Ever since his horror masterpiece, Sisters, released in 1973, Depalma has been exploring Hollywood genres, picking them apart, finding out what is so fascinating about them, then exploiting those fascinating elements beyond necessity, in both a celebratory way, as well as a satirical one. His films become essays on whatever genre he is navigating us through and perhaps this is why he is often misunderstood in America. The overindulgence of sex and violence in his movies is more of a reflection of the excessive sex and violence in movies in general. People react positively to these type of images so Depalma gives it to them in spades, taking the genre to the umpteenth degree. Ultimately though, one has to realize there is much humor in his presentation and quite often these scenes are satirical jabs more than anything else. Depalma both loves and laughs at Hollywood movies.
Femme Fatale begins with a jewel heist that takes place in the midst of the Cannes Festival. And in true Depalma fashion, it includes long tracking shots (taking us up and down staircases, down long hallways and through ventilation shafts), a Bolero-esque classical piece that helps to build the suspense slowly (forcing viewers to shatter their expectations for fast cuts and fast action), and a sex scene hotter than any Depalma has shot previously (which says a lot, considering he also directed Body Double and Dressed to Kill). After the heist is foiled and the heroine, Laurie (Rebecca Romijn), narrowly escapes her former partners in crime, who are now out to kill her, Laurie finds herself mistaken for another woman. Laurie takes advantage of this turn of events and steals the woman's passport, as well as her ticket to America. Fast forward seven years later and Laurie is now married to the American ambassador to France and is forced to return to a country where assassins are still after her. She remains incognito, so it takes some effort for the photographer, Nicolas (Antonio Banderas), to capture a picture of her for the tabloids. Ultimately he does and her picture is plastered on billboards all over France, putting Laurie's life in grave danger.
Similar themes that exist in earlier Depalma films find their way into Femme Fatale, particularly the theme of "the double," in which there is either a case of mistaken identity, twin siblings with opposite personalities, or a character suffering from multiple personality order, as was the case in Body Double, Sisters, and Dressed to Kill, respectively. The theme of surveillance and its intrusion into our personal lives has also found its way into Femme Fatale, much like in Blow Out, Depalma's Americanized version of Antonioni's Blow Up, in which a soundman records a car accident that proves to be no accident. These themes mentioned play a crucial role in Femme Fatale, but ultimately, it is the theme of the Hollywood archetype, the "femme fatale," and the expectations put on that character that dominates this film. And ultimately those expectations are shattered and a new understanding of the archetype comes into existence. This understanding could only be possible with a master writer/director manning the helm and Brian Depalma is just that, a master. Wake up, America!
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)
Jarmusch Mixes It Up
Based loosely on Le Samurai, by French New Wave director, Jean-Pierre Melville, Ghost Dog tells the story of a hit-man who lives by the code laid out for him in the book, The Way of the Samurai. It is a dense film, at least in the sense that Jarmusch mixes several genres in this tale, in a way that only Jim jarmusch can. It is at first the story of a warrior, a hit-man, who lives and breathes a certain way of life in order to survive. It is then a gangster picture, in the Goodfellas or Sopranos sense, with sharp urban gangster dialogue and some of the very same actors that helped revive the genre in the seventies, eighties and nineties. At times, it also reflects the art-house sensibilities that helped to make Jim Jarmusch famous, particularly when Ghost Dog "communicates" with his one and only friend, a Frenchman who speaks no English. Ghost Dog does not speak French either, yet the two enjoy each other's company and speak to each other regardless, knowing that the other may not understand the words they speak but the tone of their speech and the emotions they are expressing are somehow getting through. And finally, this film borrows some elements from the western genre, with a final showdown in the middle of the street, with two gunman and their guns drawn, filmed in the same manner as the final confrontation in High Noon.
Now, stir all these bits and pieces from the various and greatly different worlds of cinema together and, again, you have a dense, touching and often hilarious film, made by a master filmmaker. Jim Jarmusch puts his heart and soul into every story he tells and Ghost Dog may be the greatest example of that. When this film was made, it seemed he had already left behind the simpler, yet still poignant, stories told in films like Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law, for more complex tales told in the vein of films like Raging Bull and Taxi Driver. The character of Ghost Dog is a multi-dimensional figure, who is suffering from the inner conflict of having to protect himself from the man who had once saved his life. According to The Way of the Samurai, Ghost Dog owes this man everything. Still, now that the man is forced to kill Ghost Dog and Ghost Dog must wrestle with his sense of duty and his sense of self-preservation. It is this conflict that is at the crux of the character, as well as the story. Ghost Dog is a colossal figure, not just in size but in scope as well, much like Robert Deniro's Jake Lamotta in Raging Bull. And Forest Whitaker brings home the performance of a lifetime in the role, projecting all the conflicting feelings and emotions within Ghost Dog. Never mind Idi Amin. This should've been the film that brought Whitaker the Oscar.
True Grit (2010)
True Filmmaking
By now, you've probably read of how the Coen Brothers' latest version of the Charles Portis novel, True Grit, greatly differentiates from the original version starring longtime cowboy, John Wayne. The Coens, again, as they had with Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men, remain as faithful to the book as catholic sons to their mother. Not all, but most of the dialogue comes directly from Portis' pages. Some liberties are taken as far as the action, but the overall tone and story itself is fairly precise. In contrast to the technicolor version made by Hollywood director, Henry Hathaway, in 1969, the Coens bring darker colors to the story. This trip that 14-year old, Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld), has chosen to embark on is no adventure. It is a manhunt in which men are slaughtered and life is a fragile, tradable thing. There is also humor in the film, however, as there is in the book. Mattie's highly developed vocabulary, as well as Rooster Cogburn's (Jeff Bridges) wickedly funny tongue, makes for amusing conversation amongst the main characters. Newcomer, Steinfeld, surprisingly holds her own in some of the funnier scenes with two of Hollywood's best: Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon.
This film may not be a Coen Brothers original. And it may not be as dense as A Serious Man or Barton Fink, but it is still a finely crafted film of the highest caliber. After reading the novel several times, I could hardly imagine anyone else making this picture. It suits the Coens' sensibility to a tee. And although, in the end, John Wayne is still one of the greatest cowboys of all-time, Jeff Bridges' portrayal is much more multi-dimensional, bringing to light Cogburn's slovenly drinking habits, as well as many of his other imperfections.
The Green Hornet (2011)
Seth Rogen, a Superhero? Give Me a Break!
Seth Rogen as The Green Hornet? Michel Gondry directing a superhero movie? I haven't a clue as to how all of this is going to pan out, and for one simple reason: I'll never know because I'm never going to see this thing.
My first impression when seeing the preview was how unsuperhero-esque Seth Rogen is. And then I wondered how producers could've allowed him to be casted. Then I learned he wrote the screenplay and that was that. Still, regardless of how funny he was on Freaks and Geeks and how funny he was as a writer with Superbad, Seth Rogen is not so flexible an actor that he can just jump into any type of role he desires. Very few actors can. And he is far from being a Christian Bale.
According to The New York Times review, there are a couple of funny moments in the film. Big deal. Is that why we go to see comic book movies? For funny? How funny was The Dark Knight? Some films, like Kick Ass, mix some humor into the comic book world without taking over the intended aesthetic of the film entirely. I somehow doubt The Green Hornet is going to come close to how ridiculously awesome Kick Ass is. Somehow I doubt that very much.
As far as Michel Gondry's participation in the film, truthfully, I only like one movie he directed, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And as finely directed that film is, it is Charlie Kaufman's brilliantly imaginative script that is ultimately the star. I did not see The Science of Sleep (though I heard it stinks) and I hated Be Kind, Rewind. The latter is a terribly unfunny comedy with terribly unfunny characters and a terribly unfunny plot. I can only imagine The Green Hornet being closer to that comic flop than Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, especially since there is no genuine talent, like a Charlie Kaufman type, to "save the day."
Curse of the Fly (1965)
Eh.
This is easily the weakest of the original The Fly series. It is the third and final installment and bares little resemblance to its predecessors. In fact, to accommodate its story line, the makers of the film actually change the plot details of the first two films. In The Fly, Andre Delambre, the original scientist to mix fly and human DNA, had a son named Phillipe. Phillipe would then become the main character of the first sequel, Return of the Fly. In the Curse of the Fly, there is no mention of Phillipe and suddenly Andre has a son named Henri. Where he came from, I haven't the slightest. This, as you can plainly see, could confuse viewers who are familiar with the first two films. Imagine Luke Skywalker not appearing in Return of the Jedi and out of nowhere, Darth Vader has a son named Roy. Same thing. It leaves one perplexed throughout a good chunk of the film.
Despite this obviously flaw, the story itself isn't that bad, I suppose. Henri and his sons are continuing with Andre's experiment to transport human beings from one place to the other. His one son, Martin, has married and his wife has discovered the botched experiments that had turned his ex-wife and former lab assistances into monsters. At first he tries to convince her she is dreaming all of this (Oh yeah, the film begins with her escaping from a mental hospital), but soon enough he can't disguise the fact that he and his father are mad scientists.
The one saving grace of this film is the pathetic attempt to pass off a Caucasian woman as a Chinese servant. She looks more like Katherine Hepurn then Amy Tan, but this embarrassing bit of casting at least brings some camp value to the picture. Again, this picture pails in comparison to The Fly (1958) and Return of the Fly (1959), which are both stellar pieces of early science fiction cinema.
And oh yeah, in Curse of the Fly, there is no fly at all to speak of throughout the entire film. Lame. So very lame.
I Knew It Was You: Rediscovering John Cazale (2009)
An Important Actor from an Important American Period
The biggest shock to me when viewing I Knew It Was You: Rediscovering John Cazale was coming to the realization that this actor, who I had been watching over and over again in some of my favorite films ever, had actually only made five films. Five! The greatest period of American Cinema is undoubtedly the "Hollywood Renaissance," spanning from the introduction of "Easy Rider" up until the blockbuster phenomenon created by films like "Jaws" and "Star Wars," and all five films John Cazale appeared in were made during this creative period in which writers and directors had more to say about what happened in a film than the studio heads. "The Godfather," "The Conversation," "The Godfather Two," "Dog Day Afternoon," "and "The Deer Hunter," the five films that make up the John Cazale catalog, are some of the greatest and most memorable films ever made in this country. And if you don't know who John Cazale is by name, then perhaps you know him by at least one of the five characters he played on screen, most likely the frail, weakest son of the Corleone family in The Godfather, "Fredo."
Just about anyone and everyone that ever acted or worked with Cazale appears in this documentary, including Al Pacino, Robert Deniro, Gene Hackman, Francis Ford Coppola, Fred Roos, Sidney Lumet, Carol Kane, Jon Savage, Richard Dreyfuss, Israel Horovitz, Olympia Dukakis and Meryl Streep, who we learn had a longstanding love affair with Cazale and was with him until he died of lung cancer at 42. Younger actors like Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Sam Rockwell and Steve Buscemi, who grew up watching Cazale's films, also contribute, helping to articulate Cazale's relevance. With this caliber of contributors, this film quickly gets to the crux of who Cazale was as actor, as well as a human being. And though this documentary is only an hour long (It was made for HBO), it is still a dense, powerful story of a man, an actor, that was able to make a permanent mark on American Cinema that will resonate for as long as movies exist.
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My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done (2009)
Herzog and America...Finally!!!!
Werner Herzog, Germany's answer to Martin Scorcese, at least in the sense that his movies are unrelenting at times in their brutality, their honesty and their depiction of troubled characters, has been bidding to become a Hollywood filmmaker for some time now. His first attempt, Rescue at Dawn, starring Christian Bale, was a failure in every sense of the word. It was at times pretentious and at other times, just straight-up hokey. His collaboration with Nicholas Cage, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call-New Orleans, was an interesting mess, with Cage bringing back that effective campy-style of acting that first made him famous, a style we all loved and mourned for when he gave it up to become a "serious actor." The film itself, however, was an in-cohesive tale, pieced together with blotches of scenes that at times didn't gel and often got in the way of the storytelling. Without Cage's performance, Bad Lieutenant would've withered away, joining the million of other films that have failed to inspire us.
Herzog's 2009 attempt, however, My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?, now available on DVD, succeeds greatly in its storytelling, its originality as a film, and its portrayal of a disturbed man lost in the world, looking for something to believe in, ultimately feeling he needs to kill his mother to liberate himself from the demons that haunt his mind, as well as his soul. Michael Shannon, who we now know as the bitter, troubled F.B.I. agent on HBO's Boardwalk Empire, plays the son and his performance is almost as brutally honest as any other in a Herzog film. The character of Brad McCullum is nearly on par, in regards to being intensely disturbed, as Klaus Kinsky in both Aguirre: The Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo. The only difference being, the latter two films are more gigantic in scope, so consequently their main characters would be as well.
What also helps to make My Son, My Son
so effective is its tone. The colors in Herzog's portrayal of Southern California (San Diego, more specifically) are dullened throughout the film, giving us a sense that McCullum's state of mind is not sharp enough to connect with reality. Herzog is able to maintain this sense of disconnection and uneasiness consistently as the story unfolds in a series of flashbacks, told by McCullum's fiancée and acting coach. Despite the disturbing nature of the film, there are several humorous moments that break the uneasy tension created by the filmmaker. And if these moments are too obscure to be called humorous, then let's just call them just outright surreal and undoubtedly Herzogian in the conception. David Lynch was the executive producer of this picture and I'm sure his influence may have made somewhat of an impact on its obscurity, but ultimately the feel of the film is definitely that of another Herzogian journey into the deep, dark depths of man's battle with himself. Very few filmmakers can make that journey and come out the other side with a fascinating, well-crafted story that will last for ages to come. I didn't think Herzog still had it in him. He has proved me wrong.
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