Saturday, April 22, 2006
Two reviews
This is a review of Red Eye.
What you see is what you get - Bunuel (Toronto, ON)
In these days of bloat, when most films are two hours and longer - and feel like it - it is a pleasure to see a movie that's 88 minutes long, as this one is. There is nothing extraneous here. There's a story to be told - a pretty straightforward story - and told it is. Character development is unnecessary: there's a woman in distress, and a bad guy. What more do you need to know?
The proceedings are choreographed professionally by Wes Craven. Rachel McAdams is appealing as the heroine, and Cillian Murphy is terrific as the very stubborn villain. Brian Cox, as McAdams's dad, looks bored.
A B-movie feelng does cling to this effort, though. Perhaps it is that lack of depth that moves the story along that also diminishes the over-all effect. Certain scenes seem perfunctory and casual. And, as is often the case with such scripts, the bad guy is much more sympathetic and interesting than the person to be saved. (I don't mean McAdams, but the Director of Homeland Security.)
So, get out the popcorn, moderate your expectations, and enjoy.
And this is a review of Next Stop, Greenwich Village.
Amarcord it's not - Bunuel (Toronto, ON)
Paul Mazursky is an interesting auteur. He made some excellent movies - chiefly An Unmarried Woman - and also a lot of crap. I'm afraid this movie - despite its reputation with some critics and its popularity in France and Argentina - falls a lot closer to the latter category than the former. (Why movies by New York Jewish intellectuals are so popular in those two countries is a matter that should be investigated, but I do not have the space here.)
It's not that this movie is bad, as that it's just not very interesting. Personally, I never felt engaged by the people involved. Considering that I have a fair bit in common with the coming-of-age hero, Larry Lapinsky, I think that tells you a lot. Lenny Baker tries very hard as Larry. Too hard, and that's a big part of the problem. I found him almost completely charmless. Shelley Winters, doing her patented over the moon Jewish mother routine, is way too much. Which is a pity, because in the final scene when she reins it in, she shows that she's a fine actress. That scene, and another when she and Larry's father arrive unannounced at a wild party at Larry's tiny apartment and she dances with the gay black friend - to Larry's chagrin - are the only ones that came alive for me.
Mike Kellin, as the father, was very good. The real treat, though, was Chris Walken as an egotistical writer. His performance is almost entirely lacking the mannerisms for which he has become infamous. Stripped down, he's an excellent actor.
The best thing about this movie is the soundtrack music of the Dave Brubeck Quartet, from the "Time Out" album. I think it's worth noting that while the movie is set in 1953 Greenwich Village, this famous album was not recorded until 1959; and that Brubeck and sax player Paul Desmond are associated with the West Coast jazz sound. So much for authenticity.
The commentary by Mazursky is more interesting than the movie, although it was obviously recorded at more than one sitting, with the result that he repeats himself several times. (He was 74 at the time, so he can be forgiven.) The references to Fellini are unfortunate. Sorry, Paul, you ain't Fellini, and this movie ain't Amarcord, not by a long shot. Ellen Greene, who plays Sarah, Larry's girlfriend, is way too earnest and pleased with herself. That's the trouble with these commentaries, isn't it? The participants always have a terribly inflated opinion both of the movie and of their participation in it.
What you see is what you get - Bunuel (Toronto, ON)
In these days of bloat, when most films are two hours and longer - and feel like it - it is a pleasure to see a movie that's 88 minutes long, as this one is. There is nothing extraneous here. There's a story to be told - a pretty straightforward story - and told it is. Character development is unnecessary: there's a woman in distress, and a bad guy. What more do you need to know?
The proceedings are choreographed professionally by Wes Craven. Rachel McAdams is appealing as the heroine, and Cillian Murphy is terrific as the very stubborn villain. Brian Cox, as McAdams's dad, looks bored.
A B-movie feelng does cling to this effort, though. Perhaps it is that lack of depth that moves the story along that also diminishes the over-all effect. Certain scenes seem perfunctory and casual. And, as is often the case with such scripts, the bad guy is much more sympathetic and interesting than the person to be saved. (I don't mean McAdams, but the Director of Homeland Security.)
So, get out the popcorn, moderate your expectations, and enjoy.
And this is a review of Next Stop, Greenwich Village.
Amarcord it's not - Bunuel (Toronto, ON)
Paul Mazursky is an interesting auteur. He made some excellent movies - chiefly An Unmarried Woman - and also a lot of crap. I'm afraid this movie - despite its reputation with some critics and its popularity in France and Argentina - falls a lot closer to the latter category than the former. (Why movies by New York Jewish intellectuals are so popular in those two countries is a matter that should be investigated, but I do not have the space here.)
It's not that this movie is bad, as that it's just not very interesting. Personally, I never felt engaged by the people involved. Considering that I have a fair bit in common with the coming-of-age hero, Larry Lapinsky, I think that tells you a lot. Lenny Baker tries very hard as Larry. Too hard, and that's a big part of the problem. I found him almost completely charmless. Shelley Winters, doing her patented over the moon Jewish mother routine, is way too much. Which is a pity, because in the final scene when she reins it in, she shows that she's a fine actress. That scene, and another when she and Larry's father arrive unannounced at a wild party at Larry's tiny apartment and she dances with the gay black friend - to Larry's chagrin - are the only ones that came alive for me.
Mike Kellin, as the father, was very good. The real treat, though, was Chris Walken as an egotistical writer. His performance is almost entirely lacking the mannerisms for which he has become infamous. Stripped down, he's an excellent actor.
The best thing about this movie is the soundtrack music of the Dave Brubeck Quartet, from the "Time Out" album. I think it's worth noting that while the movie is set in 1953 Greenwich Village, this famous album was not recorded until 1959; and that Brubeck and sax player Paul Desmond are associated with the West Coast jazz sound. So much for authenticity.
The commentary by Mazursky is more interesting than the movie, although it was obviously recorded at more than one sitting, with the result that he repeats himself several times. (He was 74 at the time, so he can be forgiven.) The references to Fellini are unfortunate. Sorry, Paul, you ain't Fellini, and this movie ain't Amarcord, not by a long shot. Ellen Greene, who plays Sarah, Larry's girlfriend, is way too earnest and pleased with herself. That's the trouble with these commentaries, isn't it? The participants always have a terribly inflated opinion both of the movie and of their participation in it.
# posted by Stephen @ 9:32 p.m. 
