Time is Relative

Each weekend is another proof that time is relative. I’d made a list and only achieved the easy ones. Again. Not on the list was watching movies on cable and DVD. The best laid plans….

Some time back, it came up in conversation that I had never seen The Departed in its entirety -- that I had seen scenes, and usually the same ones, as often happens when channel surfing. That I had never seen the entire film was appalling to my friends, and Matthew did something about it. The next time we met, he handed me his copy of the DVD. Saturday I finally sat down and committed to watch it. I had thought I’d iron – the stack is so high it’s toppling. Or clean the broccoli.

I watched the film. It was not possible to iron or clean broccoli or chop anything. That would have been foolhardy, and possibly as bloody as the film.

I tip my hat to Mr. Scorsese, to screenwriter William Monahan , and to the incredible cast. DiCaprio, Damon, Nicholson, Winstone, Wahlberg, Sheen, Baldwin, etc. etc. etc. It doesn’t just sound like a dream team, it is. I don’t generally care much for bloody films about guys playing gangsters. This film has gangsters, cops, robbers, feds, thieves, moles, killers, cheats, office politics, a shrink, and lots of bloody violence. Nonetheless, this film just doesn’t fall into the usual categories. We watch two young men living lives of similarities and contradictions, and follow their paths through the maze of the Irish mob. The points where their paths meet are obvious and not obvious, expected but still frightening, and involve older men who manipulate and shape them. To state the fine performances would be merely to list all the actors Scorsese cast, a much longer list than I've offered already. There’s nary an off moment in this film, not a point in any scene that allowed my mind to wander, to compare, to even question. Emotional involvement was total. And I had no idea how long the film ran until I read the box.

See? Time is relative.

~ Molly Matera, signing off. Thanks for stopping by.

(500) Days of Summer

I am not a fan of the romantic comedy genre. This because romantic comedy films and plays are historically misogynistic. Earlier this year, at the Tribeca Film Festival, I saw a fabulous film called ‘Timer.’ It was a truly clever combination of romantic comedy and science fiction. Written, directed, and produced by women, it was an utterly delightful non-misogynistic romance. I have yet to see this film picked up by a distributor, which proves misogynists dominate the industry.

I am surprised and delighted to report that I’ve seen my second non-misogynistic romantic comedy this year: ‘(500) Days of Summer.’ This was a non-linear story of Tom’s love for Summer – or was it obsession? Numbered scenes from the day Tom and Summer first meet to the moment Tom begins to (spoiler!) recover bounce around from euphoria to despair and back again.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is Tom Hansen, a writer of greeting cards instead of the architect he wanted to be. Zooey Deschanel’s Summer is the object of Tom’s desire, love, fantasies, and disappointments. The set-up is clear from the beginning – as Tom’s colleague McKenzie (Geoffrey Arend) states on their karaoke evening out, Summer’s belief system about love and relationships is that of a “dude.” Tom is the blatant romantic. All the performances are good, but I must point out that Chloe Moretz as Tom’s sensible little sister is entrancing. Between the honesty of the scenes between Tom and Summer, and the scenes between Tom and his sister, and the marvelous soundtrack, this movie flew by too fast. And I never say that about movies.

The journey lasts under two hours but memories of the familiar moments of loves lost and found will pop up on the walk home, the next day’s commute, and whenever I put that CD in my stereo.

Labor Day Weekend including minimal labor

Three days off and I wrote nothing. I printed out snippets of stories and chapters with notes on the infamous, neglected mystery novel. I put up a mailbox to preclude the cat urinating on the mail coming through the slot. He may yet urinate on the floor, but he won’t get my mail.

But really, it was Labor Day Weekend and I could at least have watched movies about unions, or breaking unions, movies like “On the Waterfront,” “The Molly Maguires,” or even “Norma Rae.”

Instead I watched the radiant Kristin Scott Thomas try to be less lovely. In the French film, “I Have Loved You So Long,” she’s wondrous as Juliette Fontaine, subtly drawing us in to her sheltered psyche, effortlessly making us care and wonder how could she and why and will she ever have a chance at a life, a second chance after her 15 years of imprisonment. Premise: Juliette was imprisoned 15 years before the start of the film for murder. Her sentence by the state complete, she is released to serve her sentence by society. Her family cut her dead all those years before, but now her younger sister, Lea, wants to take her in with her own family: husband, two adopted daughters, and father-in-law, in a university town.

The film opens making us wait with Juliette for someone to pick her up at the airport. (One flaw here – Juliette's haircut on leaving prison is awfully good.) Ms. Scott Thomas’ Juliette grows slowly, day by day, back into life outside. It will never be her life resumed. We know that is not a possibility. Her life ended 15 years ago. We watch her uncomfortable meetings with the sad policeman assigned to her case, her meetings with her sister’s colleagues at university, social engagements, family moments, tentatively increasing friendship. Large courageous risks. A huge setback to her re-integration is shown in the tense scene with a potential employer. Of necessity, he knows that she was in prison – her first interviewer, upon learning her crime, tells her in no uncertain terms to get out. I couldn’t blame him. When she admitted her crime, I gasped aloud.

Day by day we watch her, wishing desperately to understand how she could have committed such a crime. We await further revelation in a film that politely demands our patience. As we come to know Juliette, we know there must have been special circumstances that forced her to such a choice. Ms. Scott Thomas grows increasingly lovely and lively as the film goes on to a surprisingly hopeful end once all is revealed, and her all important relationship with her sister is mending.

This is a beautiful film, inconspicuously filmed. Not a moment or actor is out of tune for a moment of our time. Because this is France, we can assume there are unions everywhere, so it may be appropriate for Labor Day. But we never hear from them. We only see and hear what writer/director Philippe Claudel wants us to. His other work requires investigation.

“Michael Clayton.” Definitely no unions. No matter, I love Tom Wilkinson in everything. I’d always meant to see this on the big screen, but the story works on the small one. There are some sweeping shots, yet this is really a film of close-ups. Close ups on Wilkinson, on George Clooney, on Tilda Swinton, Sydney Pollack, Ken Howard….Given the state of film adverts and trailers (that is, dreadful: Why should we go to the movies if we see the whole story in commercials?), Ms. Swinton surprised me in the second half of the film. Good on her. Clooney was as expected (which is not unpleasant, just fairly predictable), although his final speech to Ms. Swinton was more effective than I would have thought –made more so by the reaction of Sean Cullen as Clooney’s usually angry brother (or cousin, I was never clear on that) Gene Clayton in the moments following the big scene.

What I found interesting was that most of the characters are addicted to something. And I suppose we as an audience are addicted to this quite predictable story. Clooney’s character (eponymous) is addicted to gambling. His partner in a secondary business venture (a bar, what else) is addicted to drugs and/or booze. Swinton, Howard, Pollack, all are addicted to power and/or money (not money as you and I think of it -- serious money). Even Artie, Mr. Wilkinson’s character, is addicted to the highs of his manic depression – but then who wants those lows anyway.

As ever, Shakespeare was right: “First, kill the lawyers.” I’ve known a lawyer or half a dozen, and really, they’re not all evil or amoral. In this film, they are – until Wilkinson goes off his meds.

All in all, it’s a tight, well-acted film, quite engaging throughout. And I’ll still see Tom Wilkinson in anything at all.

“The Reader.” Earlier this year, my very much younger colleagues at the office were talking about people they didn’t know as if they were intimately acquainted. Our present era, in which seemingly sane responsible people reading “Page Six” or watching “Entertainment Tonight” believe they can walk up to strangers who happen to be celebrities and chat as if they're old friends, sometimes frightens, sometimes annoys, and oftentimes bores me. The ringleader of the office gossips asked whose life any of us would like to live. Generally I put on my headphones and let Sinatra block them out. That day, I answered: Kate Winslet. Fine career, gets to work with extremely talented husband Sam Mendes, has children, lives in Brooklyn, and continues fine film career. Hot damn. And the woman has guts.

Winslet and Mendes work well together in “The Reader.” The intensity of her listening, her appetites, her responses, her silences, do not reveal a lovable or even likeable character. Hannah Schmitz is a monster, in some ways as amoral (there’s that word again) as the lawyers in “Michael Clayton” and the character Winslet played (another Juliet) when I first saw her in Peter Jackson’s 1996 film “Heavenly Creatures.”

Trivia Break: Who was the other girl in “Heavenly Creatures?” Melanie Lynskey, familiar to CBS sitcom viewers as the delightful Rose in “Two and a Half Men.” Who knew.

Back to “The Reader,” in which Winslet is fearless. I not only want her life and career, I want to get into her brain and watch her figure and work through her choices. This regrettably means I’ll have to rent a film in which I have no other interest, “Revolutionary Road,” just to see her work with her husband again.

As the woman and, in the 1990s, her daughter who survived one of the many horrors of WW2, Lena Olin is frightening. Again, the honesty of this portrayal is courageous. Is it Sam Mendes we have to thank for this? Not that either actress is generally shy, but such bold statements don’t arrive often, and rarely in tandem.

The boy Michael, as played by David Kross, is delightful, totally committed to life, and to falling in love, and staying in love, and heartbreak. Much as I like him, Ralph Fiennes' portrayal of the adult Michael in the ‘present’ just didn’t do it for me as much as Kross’ personification in the past.

“The Reader” is a very interesting film, leaving many unanswered questions. Just the way I like ’em.

So, three DVDs over Labor Day Weekend, but no films at the movie house (which also means no popcorn and Coke during nor beer afterward, so that’s good; but also no miles of walking to get to and from said movie houses either).

Meanwhile, the to do list grows: check out other jobs at the firm. At the firm or elsewhere, find an ‘ideal’ job, one that’s

-- 40 hours a week instead of 50+
-- an easier commute in a company that doesn’t do anything awfully offensive to the planet or the species, and
-- provides standard health care, vac time, and
-- an actual policy for volunteerism (that is, not one day a year, but potential leaves for Red Cross volunteer work, even if it’s just sandbagging. That’s the wrong word, isn’t it.), time enough to actually help, which takes more than a day within a comfortable commute.

This evening, when I walked out of my office building, the act of walking galvanized the organizing facility in my brain so that I could finally accomplish what I’d been trying to accomplish all afternoon at my desk. I took out my pad and wrote notes as I walked and figured out what to do tomorrow to get the job done. What’s that about? Do I have walk to think?

Next thought – should I create a rating system for films/plays I review? Not stars or apples or anything. I’m not into math, although I do like #2 pencils. A broad rating system like: Unendurable – Endurable – Enjoyable. Hmmm. Is “enjoyable” an appropriate word for “The Reader?”

Sometimes I think too much.

− Molly Matera, turning off the computer, but not the light − I have reading, not to mention writing, to do.
8 September 2009

Harry Potter movies lag behind the books. Quel surprise.

This is from 9August2009. Sorry, I’m on computer over 10 hours a day five days a week, so I don’t always log on in my off time – as I warned the friends who repeatedly invited me onto Facebook. Unfortunately, where I work there will never be a Wallace Stevens writing poetry in his desk drawer (soon there won’t even be desk drawers); there’s just a firewall on the computer to block everything I’d rather be doing than working.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is fun. That is not to say good. That is not to say faithful to the book. Nevertheless, the ending did to me just what it was supposed to do. Yes, I’m a weeper. If the movie didn’t get me at those penultimate scenes, no one would have been doing their jobs – including me as viewer with an imagination. Knowing what’s coming from the books – or even from the way the movie is set up (any movie) doesn’t make the shock less affecting. So I cried as is proper when [spoiler alert for those who have not read the book or seen the movie] Dumbledore died. No worries on that score.

Disappointments: Plenty. Including the utter lack of clarity about the Phoenix. Dumbledore’s Phoenix was a fixture and embodied a feeling. At the end of the film, its presence and departure can only be surmised by those who read the book. And we’re disappointed. Those who haven’t read the book haven’t a clue. And that’s a great loss of such a marvelous symbol. It really irked me.

A friend of mine mentioned missing Richard Harris particularly in this film – and he was right on the mark. I’ve always liked Michael Gambon as an actor and understand how difficult it must be for him to take on this beloved character after Harris’ death. This film in particular shows what this intellectually adept actor lacked: Richard Harris’ heart. We LOVED Harris’ Dumbledore. We respect Gambon’s.

TomFelton as Draco was fabulous, he’s growing up well – Felton, that is, not Draco. He’s not really growing up at all, just getting taller.

Alan Rickman was underused as were Gemma Jones and Maggie Smith.

Why, you ask? Because this film is more concerned with teenage and ’tweener love than with the saga of the past six films. Young love (as well as ‘not-love-but-spells’) is important here, but should not negate the rest of the story elements. The filmmakers negated those by leaving them out and adding extraneous scenes outside of the time arc of the series. Are they bored with the magic? Are they bored with the Weasleys?

Anyone who’s bored with Weasleys has no business participating in a film version of a Harry Potter book.

Daniel Radcliff does a very good drunk scene when he drinks the luck potion, but those early scenes in the pub made me want to be in one. I yearned for a pub more as the film went on.

What was lacking in this film: It ran 2.5 hours but seemed to skip over any storytelling that would build tension in favor of splashing emotional mishaps (and their numerous comedic moments) across the screen -- of all those cute kids growing all too blatantly to adulthood. Ron is funny as ever, but Hermione and Ginny seem like tweeners, still children. Ginny is a tall tweener and seems younger than her character ought in comparison to the others. The Weasleys are given short shrift in their manufactured domestic tragedy instead of their real one (“real” meaning the one in the book). The portrayal of the sad remainder of the Order of the Phoenix couldn’t even show us the gaping hole left by Sirius’ death -- all these building blocks were missing from this film, so how will the story be accomplished in the next. With its mighty obvious cliffhanger ending, this film is incomplete without whatever will follow.

In essence, this film makes me want to re-read the books for the real story, and the pictures JK Rowling allowed my brain to paint. So I will.

− MM, turning off the computer, but not the light − I have reading to do.

District 9: Warning -- This summer movie may induce thought.

On the 90-degree afternoon on which I saw District 9, the first three trailers were all about violence. What were they? The first was something about god being pissed off with us again and sending angels to exterminate the human race. Angels do not appear to be very nice. Lots of violence. Second was…. What? Violence. Violence sells, but I can't even remember what the second and third trailers were about a few hours later, so I propose that the adverts didn’t work.
District 9 runs under two hours and includes plenty of violence. But there’s a story here. A thoughtful story played so realistically I almost believe there’s a concentration camp for extraterrestrials two hundred miles or so south of Johannesburg. Here are 9 points about “District 9.”

1. The story follows, in largely documentary style, Wikus Van De Merwe, a terribly ordinary employee of a private company, Multi-National United (“MNU”), doing government work by dealing with the aliens whose mother ship came to a hovering halt above Johannesburg over twenty years earlier. Wikus’ assignment: To oversee the removal of the alien residents of the ghetto designated ‘District 9’ inside Johannesburg, far away to a larger compound hidden from public view. As played by Sharlto Copley, Wikus is the perfect patsy for whatever may (and doubtless will) go wrong. He’s in over his head, but determined to prove himself to the person who gave him the assignment -- his father-in-law, a major player in MNU, played by a chilling Piet Smith.
2. “District 9” is what science fiction is supposed to be. Science fiction has a not terribly long but honorable history of telling stories about our own society disguised as another. The science fiction conceit here is a first encounter with an alien race in our own back yard and how we respond. Had this taken place in the U.S., you can be sure we would have nuked the damn thing and killed ourselves – some quickly, some slowly, but all of us – in the process. Then we would have bemoaned our hapless fate, instead of examining how we got there. The South Africans portrayed chose a different course, and that allows us to deeply examine the human response.
3. We follow Wikus into the field where he and his colleagues knock on shack doors to ask the alien residents to sign a legal document acknowledging they’ve been given 24 hours notice of their eviction to the far off tent city, District 10. The aliens communicate with clicks, subtitled for the audience’s understanding. It is perfectly clear the humans do not understand them, however. Neither do the humans see the absurdity of asking a claw-handed alien to sign a legal waiver. Only one alien clicks back in understanding of the form, and even the law. The humans have named him ‘Christopher Johnson.’ The filmmakers do this throughout, showing humans arrogantly expecting aliens to understand and respect their bureaucracies. It’s hilarious.
4. Everyone in a leadership position – that is, someone who can give orders to other humans and expect them to be obeyed – is white. Any human can order about and abuse the aliens – called prawns because, yes, they do look like prawns. Eating shrimp or any other crustaceans will be impossible for this reviewer for some time. Initially the aliens are difficult to look at for the squeamish. Little by little though, we see more. The fragments of clothing, the frightened eyes, the different stances clearly denoting near-human emotional responses to the situation at hand. And the design and execution are brilliant.
5. Special effects: Wow. ‘Transformers 2’ (and some say the first as well) is visually cluttered, and no size screen can define the combatants. With no one to root for amid the unidentified machine parts, ‘Transformer’ films are just noise and consequently dull. This film has machines, some of which move like robots, all of which are clearly defined, their actions are easy to discern, and you know who’s on what’s side and vice versa. [Spoiler alert: When Wikus climbs into the Nigerians’ stolen machine, almost an homage to Ripley, the audience roars its approval. I sat stunned at the human-like movements and the heartbreaking – wait, that’s too much spoiler.] Suffice it to say, this film has some of the best CGI I’ve seen this year – and yet it cost so little to make that it’s already earned back its costs. How does that make sense, Hollywood?
6. The film is full of metaphor and symbolism, especially since it’s South African. The offensive commercials hearkening back to our own Civil Rights era are even more poignant in terms of a country with such a recent end to Apartheid. The black soldiers still follow white administrators’ commands, the criminal gang profiteering in the ghetto are Nigerians with old religious beliefs and serious attitude.
7. For those who want story and meaning mixed in with their explosions, District 9 is for you. MNU is everywhere with mercenaries and scientists to add to the horror. Even an alien child appears to be the property of MNU with a company sticker on his head. The set design of the ghetto, of the MNU buildings, the varying residences all collude to make this feel like the documentary after which it is styled.
8. That developed story need not interfere with the enjoyment of those who just want blood, guts, gore, barf moments, big weapons, explosions, and pink mist. The movie covers a lot of explosive ground in less than two hours. For those who need gunfire and weapons ever increasing in size and effectiveness, District 9 is for you.
9. Finally, you won’t recognize these actors. You’ll have no preconceptions as to who’s a good guy, who’s not, who lives, who dies, just like this year’s riveting “The Hurt Locker.” I suppose that means this film may not do well in the American box office despite the explosions, but I certainly hope everyone gets to the theatres to see this one. It’s intense, funny, exciting, unexpected, and far from standard fare.