Rapid Response: Rain Man

The Best Picture winner “Rain Man” has not aged well, showing its colors as a movie that defines its character by its disability.

“Rain Man” has not aged well. It was revolutionary when it came out in 1988. Few movies were truly talking about disabilities, and few had as ambitious of a performance as Dustin Hoffman’s in portraying a character, let alone someone other than a background supporting character, with autism.

But since then, the culture has evolved in its awareness of disabilities. The best films about disabilities make their characters defined by things other than their afflictions. They show disabilities in everyday life.

Hoffman’s Raymond Babbitt is not precisely defined by his disability, but the film uses him as a means for a plot. “Rain Man” is entirely focused on whether or not autism has misconceptions surrounding it and if someone can form a relationship with a person who cannot express their feelings in the same way society understands. It uses him like a trick dog, testing his ability at the card table or with a calculator (now a cliche ripe for parody, along with him riding down the escalator in a suit) only for the payoff that “special people” aren’t just “bad special.” Continue reading “Rapid Response: Rain Man”

Rapid Response: A Man for All Seasons

Perhaps I’m not much of an anglophile, but the regal theatrics of Fred Zinnemann’s “A Man for All Seasons” merely impressed me for its poise and eloquence more than its moral gravitas. It is a strikingly compelling film with big, stage worthy performances and wide open cinematography that leaves us in awe of the deafening silence it can create. The climactic courtroom scene most of all is breathtaking for its lush, looming presence.

The film from 1966 is the story of Thomas More, the Chancellor of the Realm who famously opposed King Henry VIII’s divorce such that he could wed Anne Boleyn. The movie, as well as the play on which it is based, paints More (Paul Scofield) as a highly principled man who even has the respect of King Henry (Robert Shaw), but is simply pitted at a moral impasse against the good of the country. Much of the film follows his steadfast resolve to stay silent as to not be incriminated until he is finally brought to court and sentenced to beheading. Continue reading “Rapid Response: A Man for All Seasons”

Rapid Response: My Man Godfrey

“You mustn’t come between Irene and Godfrey. He’s the first thing she’s shown any affection for since her pomeranian died last summer.”

Of course the thing that Mrs. Angelica Bullock (Alice Brady) is referring to is Godfrey (William Powell), not a pomeranian or another animal but the Bullock family butler. You know, a person.

The Bullock family in “My Man Godfrey” is so hilariously oblivious to how condescending, offensive and even racist they are at all times that the movie is not just some screwball caricature of the upper class or of a select group of needy people but a ridiculously razor sharp, tart and biting comedy about the class divide and the compulsively, unhealthy attachments that people can develop and force them to act out. Continue reading “Rapid Response: My Man Godfrey”

Rapid Response: Amadeus

I read the work of Roger Ebert, A.O. Scott, David Bordwell and so many more critics, and I can see their greatness and intelligence on the page. I fear that I may never attain that level of excellence and that I will be punished only to recognize it in others.

This was the plight of Antonio Salieri, or at least in the epic drama “Amadeus,” in which he believes himself punished by God to see such an insolent brat as Mozart achieve genius so effortlessly as if he was a beacon for the Lord. Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) tells his story in flashback after he is taken to a mental institution in a suicide attempt. He accuses himself of actually murdering Mozart.

Much of this sounds very dour, and a listen to those resounding first pipe organ chords may suggest that it doesn’t get more epic or dramatic than this. But the film is like a good opera, filled with life, amusement, comedy and most importantly, music. Continue reading “Rapid Response: Amadeus”

Rapid Response: Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse

Gene Siskel would always ask, “Is this film more interesting than a documentary about how it was made?”

Such has been the guiding logic with “Hearts of Darkness,” a documentary on the making of Francis Ford Coppola’s “Apocalypse Now.” The production hell this film went through is still unrivaled in terms of sheer difficulty and complexity, and some would argue (see: recent episode of “Community”) that the telling of such an immense story actually surpasses Coppola’s masterpiece. “Hearts of Darkness” stands for the same themes of surreal unpredictability and radical change of perspective that “Apocalypse” is about, and it is mystifying and immersive in the way it engages us with such powerful, conflicting emotions.

And yet, you likely couldn’t make a documentary as interesting as this if the subsequent film weren’t also fairly interesting. The Coppola we see has mixed feelings about his film, viewing it as a potential masterpiece with ambitions that are so great and tell so much, and yet he knows that achieving such a vision on film is virtually impossible. Almost never throughout the course of filming is Coppola completely satisfied with his actors, his sets or his own words. He hates the ending most of all, and he said as much at Cannes. Here he calls it too macho an ending, and something closer to the novel would have been more appropriate.

But he never quits in filming. The artwork is done in the process, and it is a never ending process. The art doesn’t stop when the cameras cut. Anyone working that tirelessly and following along with the art at every stage of its development could drive a person insane. But he boldly asserts that you must act as if you are going forward and finishing whatever you’ve claimed, even if it turns into a vanity project that only answers questions for you. They’ll call it pretentious, and that’s what all filmmakers fear, but if it can’t even answer questions for him, then what good is it?

Coppola’s experience in the woods and swamps of the Philippines to make his Vietnam War epic changed his worldview, but perhaps the finished product of his film never answered the questions he sought. Thankfully, “Apocalypse Now” is hardly pretentious.

Director Fax Behr constructs a story from Eleanor Coppola’s documentary footage that truly gets at Francis’s psychological complexity. It’s a chronological retelling of the over 200 days they spent filming, beginning with the origins of “Heart of Darkness” as a film. Orson Welles wanted Joseph Conrad’s novel to be his first film. When the budget was too vast, he made “Citizen Kane” instead.

Coppola tried again before making “The Godfather,” but no studio wanted to deal with the ties to Vietnam. The script was again shelved for years. But after the success of both “Godfather” films, he had directorial freedom and financed $13 million himself. After 10 days of filming, he made the first hard choice and fired his then lead actor, Harvey Keitel, replacing him with Martin Sheen. Sheen was so much his character that it altered his personality. He later suffered from a severe heart attack and was read his Last Rites by a non-English speaking priest.

Coppola also juggled a collaboration with the Philippine military, his $1 million contract with an overweight, difficult and unprepared Marlon Brando, a typhoon that killed 200 local residents and the construction of a massive temple with the help of hundreds. The Gods seemed to be against this film, and Coppola’s hubris flied in his undying defiance to it all.

He really does not come across as entirely rational or sympathetic here. His requirements for a scene inside a luxuriously dream like French home (later cut from the theatrical version, but now available on Redux) sound petty when he requires that red wine be served at 58 degrees, and when all of the things that would make it perfect are not met, he shows his true personal anger and frustration.

“Hearts of Darkness’s” behind the scenes moments are so evocative of “Apocalypse Now,” such as in the caribou slaughter scene or in the infamous shot of a flair being shot high into the dark sky, and yet some of it can seem self-indulgent, complex and vague without meaning or direction. These feelings are perversions of themselves. They conflict at every turn, and so do the ambitions of “Apocalypse Now.” It’s a miracle of embattled ideas and personalities.

What’s impossible to now know is the media firestorm that circled around this project in the 1970s. Today, news would have spread much quicker, been much more fierce and may have killed the project sooner, but Coppola’s fiasco was unheard of. He was not a David Lean, Alfred Hitchcock or Cecil B. Demille. He was a new kid on the block, even if he had won Oscars just before, and this smacked of pretension beyond any.

This film also helped spread misleading rumors about the “actual ending” to the film, in which it is believed that in another version, Kurtz’s entire complex explodes. A still of this image exists in the credits of “Apocalypse Now,” and this film has marvelous footage of the actual set being demolished, but it was merely a necessity captured on film and not scripted.

“Apocalypse Now” is a masterpiece. It is one of my all-time favorites, but could it really be were it not for all this struggle? Often it is true that from great pain or great passion springs great art, and “Hearts of Darkness” embodies all the love and rage that went into this miracle of cinema.

Rapid Response: Misery

Rob Reiner’s Misery lacks the psychological depth of Stephen King’s novel.

MiseryposterI’d like to see “Misery” remade today with a cute comic book fangirl holding Alan Moore or Stan Lee hostage or something. I think just doing that alone might open up the story to more of a discussion of obsession and fandom than Rob Reiner’s film does, or perhaps for that matter Stephen King’s novel.

The film is famous for Kathy Bates’s marvelous ability to flip a switch between feelings of serendipity and sadism, but it never uses its full potential to explore the psychological realms of depth that must be going through these two characters’ heads.

The story is well-known, namely because it is a strong one, and “Misery” is nothing if not a well made, genre thriller. Paul Sheldon (James Caan), a famous author of trashy romance novels, gets into a nearly fatal car wreck and is rescued by his number one fan, Annie Wilkes (Bates). She nurses him back to health but makes clear before long that she will keep him in her small, reclusive home until he rectifies the troubling ending to his latest book.

But ultimately, this punishment is too one-dimensional. Paul has done nothing wrong, so this is not a morality tale. And Annie is just an insane serial killer with an unhealthy obsession. The movie doesn’t ask why she singled out Paul’s Misery novels, and it doesn’t even seem like she is some perverse mastermind with sinister motives to hold him there from the very beginning. She’s only driven by passion and nothing specific. I most wondered about the dinner scene where Paul attempts to poison Annie by pouring medicine in her wine. She spills her cup and pours a new glass, but was that an accident, or did she know what Paul was up to? The movie is vague, and never leads us to believe that Annie is anything more than what’s on the surface. It’s less Hitchcockian and more the story of someone trapped in an unfortunately macabre situation. Maybe that’s King-ian. I wouldn’t know.

I kept wanting to know what was going through Paul’s mind. We see him by himself a lot, but he doesn’t share his thoughts with us the way he might through internal monologues in a book. I would bet that being forced to write a new Misery novel after he has cast off the series would be some kind of torture, but the movie shows him cranking it out in a montage in a determined escape attempt.

Part of the reason I asked myself such questions is because Reiner’s camera forces us into a heightened sense of awareness from the get go. The film’s first shots are extreme close-ups of a cigarette and a bottle of champagne, and a simple Google search will show just how many starkly centered images of Bates’s face are everywhere. Except none of it has a deeper meaning. None of it clues in to suspense the way Hitchcock might with such blatantly obvious shots.

“Misery” doesn’t seem like it’s made by a man who is out of his element, even though Reiner’s previous films included the romantic comedies “The Princess Bride,” “The Sure Thing” and “When Harry Met Sally” and the fake rockumentary “This is Spinal Tap,” but he also doesn’t seem like the master director that would best fit a story as psychologically dense as King’s.

Rapid Response: The Warped Ones and The Japanese New Wave

The Warped Ones is one of the earliest examples of the Japanese New Wave, which borrows the name from the French, but is more than just a copy of their style and ideas.

How is it that every so often I can still stumble across a film I’ve never heard of, a director with a massive catalog that has escaped me and even an entire genre of film history that I was completely unaware of?

This week, that genre was the Japanese New Wave, and the film was Koreyoshi Kurahara’s “The Warped Ones” from 1960, a bizarre teenage drama about a pair of young men who are released from prison and proceed to wreck havoc in whatever way suits their fancy. They spot the man who sent them to jail walking down a boardwalk with his girlfriend, and the two kidnap the woman and rape her on the beach. After the ordeal, she tracks down our young anti-hero and confides in him that her relationship has forever been damaged until he too suffers a mental breakdown.

“The Warped Ones” is a film about identity and the animalistic impulses that we’re driven to when faced with reality, but at its core it’s an avant-garde art film about youth and rebelling against culture in the same way that the French New Wave films of Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut are. The Japanese New Wave borrowed the title from the French, and the common criticism has been that they also borrowed the style and original ideas from France as well.

But what other critics have observed more fully is that the genre developed and emerged simultaneously with the French, and although the Japanese lacked the auteur theory to go along with the film movement, these films were drastically different from the Western influenced Kurosawa films and the more stately works by Ozu and Mizoguchi. Continue reading “Rapid Response: The Warped Ones and The Japanese New Wave”

Rapid Response: The Thin Man

Myrna Loy’s Nora Charles has an adorable look when she scrunches her face like a badger in a knowing and casual embrace of her husband Nick’s drunken tom foolery. One time she does it while he’s poking fun at her over the phone, right after he’s sent her on a detour to Grant’s Tomb, and the two have such wonderful, good-hearted chemistry that you can bet he knows she’s doing it.

This is what most people liked best about “The Thin Man,” a delightful, smart and quick crime comedy that had a strong story and a clever concept but was almost completely overshadowed by Powell and Loy’s sparks. The pair of them communicate instantly that they are a married couple who knows each other very well and are capable of wittily snipping at one another without batting an eye. Instead they trade smirks and off-the-cuff remarks, and their swift wordplay and punch lines as dry as their martinis make them so easily likeable. They also have one of the cutest and most iconic movie dogs, the loveable Asta.

And whereas most crime comedies use their plots as filler for a comedy vehicle, “The Thin Man’s” story is never secondary to Powell and Loy’s good fun. It’s about a comfortably married couple so wealthy that the pair of them can lie around all day drinking and throwing parties for anyone who needs a quick pick-me-up. Nick is a retired detective from California dragged back into snooping based on his wife’s prodding that it’s probably a fun diversion. A family friend has gone missing and is suspected of murder, and everyone begs Nick to get involved, even though he confesses it’s getting in the way of his drinking. Continue reading “Rapid Response: The Thin Man”

Rapid Response: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

I recently wrote a story on a film series at the IU Cinema on Disability Awareness Films as part of Indiana’s Disability Awareness Month that you can read here, and although the interviews I did drastically changed the way I thought about disabilities, I wondered if a movie, especially tonight’s screening of “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape,” could do the same.

The movie is sweet and saccharine with some melodrama that surprisingly never steps too far, but when you consider all it does wonderfully in depicting disabilities as a natural part of everyday life, you begin to realize how special the film is.

The story is of a family of four young adults living and caring with their morbidly obese mother in a small town. Gilbert Grape (Johnny Depp) does a lot of work around the house and around town and is also the primary care giver for his autistic younger brother Arnie (Leonardo DiCaprio).

The beauty of the story in relation to disabilities is that the handicapped individuals are hardly one-dimensional figures made to pose problems or melodrama for the able bodied people. Both the mother and Arnie are endearing, likeable, emotional, display growth and are not defined by their disabilities. For instance, the mother’s disability is not really obesity but grief over the death of her husband.

The film treats the problems of disabled people as just another complication in a normal day, and we see depth in that this is really a story of being stuck and being judged. Gilbert is stuck inside his hometown, the mother is trapped in her home, Arnie is trapped within his own mind, Gilbert’s new-found girlfriend Becky is literally stuck in this town in the middle of nowhere, and a local married woman having an affair with Gilbert is first stuck in a dysfunctional family and is later surrounded by accusations of her killing her husband.

“Gilbert Grape” is perhaps little seen today but well heard of because it happens to be a remarkable time capsule with a million now famous actors doing things radically different from what they’re doing today. Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, Juliette Lewis, Mary Steenburgen, John C. Reiley and Crispin Glover all have early, major roles, and just about all of them are wonderful.

You could talk for hours about how good Leo is as someone with autism. He was rightfully nominated for an Oscar, but you watch him act and can hardly see the actor he is today, let alone would be within just years of that performance as a teen heartthrob. He’s so natural, as if he was an actual autistic actor, and his portrayal is considered remarkably accurate.

This is also a great everyman performance for Johnny Depp. It’s very understated and reserved, and yet he displays some touching range and emotion. I wonder whatever happened to that actor.

Rapid Response: Born Yesterday (1950)

“Born Yesterday” is silly and overrated on its bad puns alone, but it also has unlikeable characters portrayed by Judy Holliday and William Holden.

Born Yesterday

How stupid must people think I am to believe that this is a good movie? What, you think I was born yesterday?

That bad pun was probably more jokey than all of George Cukor’s “Born Yesterday” actually is. After seeing a handful of his movies now, including “Adam’s Rib” just over a week ago, I realize Cukor’s films feel less like comedies full of punch lines, screwball situations or witty jabs and are slighter in their straight presentation of socially awkward dialogue. There’s an audience for that sort of thing (and this movie surely has its defenders), and it typically makes for pleasant movies.

The difference however is that the main characters in “Born Yesterday” are strikingly unlikable and idiotic to the point that it has to soapbox the ideas of morality and intelligence in society.

It feels a little like a “My Fair Lady” (also directed by Cukor) story mixed with, for whatever reason it comes to mind, “Legally Blonde.” A ditzy blonde learns about the government and life from a good looking journalist; and she wears glasses! How kooky is that? Continue reading “Rapid Response: Born Yesterday (1950)”