Christopher Nolan's final Batman entry, "The Dark Knight Rises", more or less delivers what one might hope it would. Here is a movie that careens from bombastic spectacle to intimate sadness and longing, from political commentary to moments of sly humor, and from the preposterous to the strikingly close-to-home. Does it succeed? Not just in living up to expectations, but also as an exciting thriller? I think so. It's certainly better than this summer's other comic book movie/event, "The Avengers", which when held text to "The Dark Knight Rises" comes across as silly and even a bit puerile.
But compared to Nolan's last two movies, "The Dark Knight" and the unforgettable "Inception", it probably falls a little short. Even at two and a half hours, the movie feels over-stuffed with both plot and characters. In the words of another movie reviewer we have "too much movie". But there is so much ambition and bravura on display that it's impossible to be bored. I would still serve it a grade of an A.
The film opens, like "The Dark Knight", with an awesome set piece: a government plane transporting the villain Bane is hijacked mid-air by another, larger, plane; Bane's compatriots latch onto the smaller plane with hooks and rip it to shreds, all while freeing their leader and another man working with them. It's a terrific moment, maybe the best action scene in the movie and sets the tone for the rest of the film. Meanwhile, new characters are introduced, notably Anne Hathaway as Catwoman (although I don't recall her referred to as such in the movie) and Joseph Gordon-Levitt as a cop allied with Batman. Other minor characters are introduced and one in particular, if you apply the idea of, as Roger Ebert coined it, the "Economy of Character" you will probably foresee a twist that arrives late in the movie.
The best performance is, surprisingly, Anne Hathaway. I was dubious when I first heard of the casting, but she plays the role about as well as possible; she speaks in a demure, measured tone that suggests someone who is considering a multitude of ways to get the better of you and she never goes over the top. Although someone will have to explain to me why a woman with such impressive fighting and acrobatic abilities with choose to do her thieving in impractically high heels.
"The Dark Knight Rises" is ultimately a terrific, even overwhelming entertainment. There's no performance or quality in the movie that comes close to Heath Ledger's Joker in the previous flick (although I challenge you to show me an action movie that does possess that), but it's a satisfying, honorable finish to what is probably the best comic book or action trilogy ever. That's worth writing home about.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Thursday, July 12, 2012
North by Northwest: Today's Movies Head South Far Too Often
I watched Hitchcock's 1959 thriller "North by Northwest" in its entirety for the first time last night and, as usual, had a desire to write up something about it. That desire proved fleeting though. The movie is a fun spy romp through the United States, but ultimately a little lightweight, given the director. Even Hitchcock's "The Birds", a seemingly shallow horror movie, had more thematic heft as the film evoked an eerily prescient world where environmental dangers threatened to crash down upon us.
Not so with "North by Northwest". Cary Grant plays an ad man mistaken by criminals for a government agent and mistaken by a young Eva Marie Saint as someone roughly her age. (The story goes that the actress playing Grant's mother was not even a full decade older than him). He is pursued across the nation, from Manhattan to Chicago to the U.N. Building to, finally, Mount Rushmore. The whole thing is pretty entertaining, but forgettable all the same. Maybe in 1959 the film felt like an exciting rush, but in 2012 where star-driven blockbusters come out each weekend it's all a bit old hat.
This got me thinking. If this movie, made over fifty years ago, can effortlessly put on a show of slick entertainment, why are there so many bad mainstream thrillers today? Part of the answer is that Hitchcock seldom did wrong, but also, I think, that today's filmmakers mistake spectacle as automatically entertaining. "North by Northwest" supplies with an affable protagonist, funny dialogue, and some clever situations. The "Transformer" movies, "Terminator: Salvation", "Wrath of the Titans", "John Carter", "Battleship", and the "Underworld" movies are all examples of money just tossed at special effects departments despite how light on wit and intelligence the premise or script might be. Thought be damned, the studios say, people want to see loud noises and flashing lights.
Of course, there have been bad movies around as long as there have been movies. But that's not the point. The point is that movie-making has been refined over the past century and built up into such a mammoth zillion-dollar industry that bad writing, producing and acting should not be in big budget productions. If something like say, "Battleship", can blow $100 million on marketing then why can't maybe 2 or 3 percent of that budget go to sharpening a screenplay? I don't really have an answer to that question.
Coming full circle now, "North by Northwest" didn't have that kind of budget. God knows it probably wasn't cheap, but I suspect the Super Bowl ads for "John Carter" probably could have paid for the production two or three times over. Instead, it was just clever, diverting fun and when it was over, you didn't mind. But you also didn't feel cheated out of 12 dollars, either.
Not so with "North by Northwest". Cary Grant plays an ad man mistaken by criminals for a government agent and mistaken by a young Eva Marie Saint as someone roughly her age. (The story goes that the actress playing Grant's mother was not even a full decade older than him). He is pursued across the nation, from Manhattan to Chicago to the U.N. Building to, finally, Mount Rushmore. The whole thing is pretty entertaining, but forgettable all the same. Maybe in 1959 the film felt like an exciting rush, but in 2012 where star-driven blockbusters come out each weekend it's all a bit old hat.
This got me thinking. If this movie, made over fifty years ago, can effortlessly put on a show of slick entertainment, why are there so many bad mainstream thrillers today? Part of the answer is that Hitchcock seldom did wrong, but also, I think, that today's filmmakers mistake spectacle as automatically entertaining. "North by Northwest" supplies with an affable protagonist, funny dialogue, and some clever situations. The "Transformer" movies, "Terminator: Salvation", "Wrath of the Titans", "John Carter", "Battleship", and the "Underworld" movies are all examples of money just tossed at special effects departments despite how light on wit and intelligence the premise or script might be. Thought be damned, the studios say, people want to see loud noises and flashing lights.
Of course, there have been bad movies around as long as there have been movies. But that's not the point. The point is that movie-making has been refined over the past century and built up into such a mammoth zillion-dollar industry that bad writing, producing and acting should not be in big budget productions. If something like say, "Battleship", can blow $100 million on marketing then why can't maybe 2 or 3 percent of that budget go to sharpening a screenplay? I don't really have an answer to that question.
Coming full circle now, "North by Northwest" didn't have that kind of budget. God knows it probably wasn't cheap, but I suspect the Super Bowl ads for "John Carter" probably could have paid for the production two or three times over. Instead, it was just clever, diverting fun and when it was over, you didn't mind. But you also didn't feel cheated out of 12 dollars, either.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Tokyo Story: "You'll be lonely here, by yourself." "I'll get used to it."
I just finished Ozu's 'Tokyo Story' and, along with his other great film, 'Floating Weeds', is just the second of his works I have seen. It's another great, nostalgic, touching masterpiece.
Set about a decade after the war, 'Tokyo Story' tells of an elderly couple who travel from their rural Japanese village to visit their grown children in Tokyo. At varying points in the story, they will stay with their eldest doctor son and their hairdresser daughter. Another son comes to visit with them. As does a daughter-in-law, who can't seem to move on from her dead husband-- the elderly couple's son. The children, caught up with their jobs and the busy movement of the city, can't ever seem to make enough time for the parents. At one point the son and daughter send them to a nice hotel by the sea, but it's a place for younger people really. None of the grown children are ever mean or even rude, really, but are a bit inconvenienced by the older folk and try to do their best with them.
The daughter-in-law will show them the most kindness. She simultaneously suggests a deep personal loneliness as well as real warmth for her surrogate parents, more than the other children seem capable of. Even by the end of the story, after a great tragedy, the father admits as much to her.
What I appreciated so much about 'Tokyo Story', as I did with 'Floating Weeds', was how bereft of artificial melodrama the film was. There are no forced scenes of yelling, or contrived conflicts designed to manipulate tears from the viewer. The parents visit, the children don't really have time, and that's pretty much the plot. The simplicity of the story lends an authentic feel to the movie. Too often during 'Tokyo Story', it's easy to reflect on your own relationships with your family, maybe get a little nostalgic for the memories you had as a child and how they have slipped away down the path of time, and had to. That's just life.
As I said, I have only seen two of Ozu's movies, but they are clearly of a type. 'Floating Weeds', in truly beautiful technicolor, told the story of an acting troupe visiting a sleepy Japanese fishing village and the hidden familial connection of an actor to one of the locals. Both films feature a camera that never pans, families in a subdued turmoil, a deliberate lack of overt emoting (from the actors and the dialogue), and a slight, but pervasive sense of melancholy derived from a longing for memories and lost loved ones. They're also both masterpieces that everyone should see.
Set about a decade after the war, 'Tokyo Story' tells of an elderly couple who travel from their rural Japanese village to visit their grown children in Tokyo. At varying points in the story, they will stay with their eldest doctor son and their hairdresser daughter. Another son comes to visit with them. As does a daughter-in-law, who can't seem to move on from her dead husband-- the elderly couple's son. The children, caught up with their jobs and the busy movement of the city, can't ever seem to make enough time for the parents. At one point the son and daughter send them to a nice hotel by the sea, but it's a place for younger people really. None of the grown children are ever mean or even rude, really, but are a bit inconvenienced by the older folk and try to do their best with them.
The daughter-in-law will show them the most kindness. She simultaneously suggests a deep personal loneliness as well as real warmth for her surrogate parents, more than the other children seem capable of. Even by the end of the story, after a great tragedy, the father admits as much to her.
What I appreciated so much about 'Tokyo Story', as I did with 'Floating Weeds', was how bereft of artificial melodrama the film was. There are no forced scenes of yelling, or contrived conflicts designed to manipulate tears from the viewer. The parents visit, the children don't really have time, and that's pretty much the plot. The simplicity of the story lends an authentic feel to the movie. Too often during 'Tokyo Story', it's easy to reflect on your own relationships with your family, maybe get a little nostalgic for the memories you had as a child and how they have slipped away down the path of time, and had to. That's just life.
As I said, I have only seen two of Ozu's movies, but they are clearly of a type. 'Floating Weeds', in truly beautiful technicolor, told the story of an acting troupe visiting a sleepy Japanese fishing village and the hidden familial connection of an actor to one of the locals. Both films feature a camera that never pans, families in a subdued turmoil, a deliberate lack of overt emoting (from the actors and the dialogue), and a slight, but pervasive sense of melancholy derived from a longing for memories and lost loved ones. They're also both masterpieces that everyone should see.
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