JANUARY 3, 2002: I've been lazy or busy or just plain reluctant to work on something I'd put off before, but I don't know that I've ever been as flagrantly dormant as I've been with this website in the second half of 2001. I've got excuses, but you don't wanna hear them (all three of you who read this site, which was one of my excuses...). Point is, I need to catch up, so that's what I'm gonna try to do. Here goes:
AUGUST: Pauline Kael dies, which sucks. Not that we lost out on any new stuff from here (she'd basically stopped writing after her retirement from 'The New Yorker' in 1990), but I dunno, I guess I hoped she'd get some sort of special dispensation for being the best and most influential movie critic, you know, EVER. I was never really into her stuff at the time it was published (she quit writing when I was about fifteen, and about all I knew about her at the time was that her reviews were REALLY LONG and she somehow didn't think "Goodfellas" was a masterpiece--which, by the way, still befuddles me), but I picked up her greatest hits collection, "For Keeps", at the library one fall afternoon in 1999 and reading it got my juices flowing for film criticism again and she was probably the single biggest factor in getting this website going again after "SEEN" cut back (and later folded). So blame her.
As I looked over those old pieces, I was struck again not just by how on-the-nose so many of her reviews are (how refreshing it is to see someone point out the flaws of "2001", or blindly embrace absolutely everything Robert Altman does), but by the startling insight of the half-dozen or so articles she wrote about the current state of American movies. Read them if you can. What I think I like the most about them is how, almost point for point, they are more true today than they were when she wrote them.
"Why are movies so bad?" she asked in 1980. "The movies have been so rank the last couple of years that when I see people lining up to buy tickets I sometimes think that movie's aren't drawing an audience--they're inheriting an audience. People just want to go to a movie. They're stung repeatedly, yet their desire for a good movie--for ANY movie-- is so strong that all over the country they keep lining up... An atmosphere of hope develops before a big picture's release, and even after your friends tell you how bad it is, you can't quite believe it until you see for yourself. The lines (and the grosses) tell us only that people are going to the movies--not that they're having a good time. Financially, the industry is healthy, so among the people at the top there seems to be little recognition of what miserable shape movies are in. They think the grosses are proof that people are happy with what they're getting, just as TV executives think that the programs with the highest rating are what TV viewers want, rather than what they settle for. (A number of the new movie executives come from TV.) These new executives don't necessarily see many movies themselves, and they rarely got o a theatre. If for the last couple of years Hollywood couldn't seem to do anything right, it isn't that it was just a stretch of bad luck--it's the result of recent developments within the industry. And in all probability it will get worse, not better." Amen.
Nearly every obituary article on Kael wondered what she'd have thought of the summer of 2001, but it's a legit point. I drove by a drive-in theatre one August weekend and saw these double features: On one screen, "Rush Hour 2" and "The Mummy Returns"; on the other, "Jurassic Park III" and "Planet of the Apes". These were four of the summer's biggest grossing movies, and behold--two sequels, a remake, and a sequel to a remake. Who says there's a dearth of creativity in Hollywood? It's more purely economical now than it's ever been, even during the heyday of the studio system, even during Kael's 70's. Hollywood will only bet on sure things, on films with they're sure will open big by promising what American audiences crave the most--more of the same. And it's our own damn fault, as long as we continue to march like lemmings into the same old shit while fleeing like whores from a NOW rally from the occasional blockbuster that takes some chances and requires a brain cell or two--an "A.I.", for example, or more recently, a "Vanilla Sky".
SEPTEMBER: Or, less recently, "Apocalypse Now". As shocking as it may seem, in 1979 Francis Coppola was given (and contributed himself) a huge chunk of money to make a thoughtful film for a wide audience, a movie that simultaneously engaged and stimulated, a movie that not only blew shit up real good but contemplated existential questions and moral dilemmas. In the brilliant documentary "Hearts of Darkness"(still my favorite film about film), Coppola explained that he was trying not to make an art film but to make an entertainment, not in the style of a Truffaut but of an Irwin Allen. On that count, I guess he failed miserably, and that's not the only failure in "Apocalypse Now", but the fact that it merely exists, that Coppola shot the works and went a little crazy doing it, is reason enough to celebrate the film and Miramax's re-release of it, and the fact that it's a fucking amazing movie anyway sure helps. The re-release, under the title "Apocalypse Now Redux", added a good fifty minutes of new and extended scenes, clocking the whole experience in at around three hours twenty minutes, and if it wasn't shorter than, say, "Pearl Harbor", it sure as fuck felt like it was. Shit, it felt shorter than "Moulin Rouge", reiterating Roger Ebert's theory (which I never tire of repeating to idiots who complain about long movies) that bad movies are ALWAYS too long, and good movies are always either too short or just right. "Redux" certainly wasn't too short (and my previous statement in mind, I still probably could have lived without the love scene during the French plantation sequence), but it was great to see this epic (for the first time) on the big screen. And I gotta say, I was glad I got to see it on the big screen in New York instead of Wichita, where only Cinemas West would book it (Warren and Northrock, what the fuck are you thinking?). I appreciate Cinemas West booking the art films, but have you even been to a movie there that they didn't fuck up in some way? The frame-lines are always off, they always start late, there's no trailers and they often cut into the opening credits, and the sound in some of those auditoriums sounds like a speaker at the fucking Landmark. And then there's what happened at "Mulholland Drive", which I'll get into later.
While in New York, I also got to take in Terry Zwigoff's wonderful "Ghost World", which I've seen twice and, while I may have seen (very few) better movies this year, it's the only one I can think of that I was already looking forward to seeing again before it even ended. That's something to aspire to. Zwigoff and co-screenwriter Daniel Clowes (adapting his wonderful graphic novel) perfectly capture the shaky transition into adulthood, or at least out of high school, for their heroine, Enid (Thora Birch). As someone who's known more than one Enid in my twenty-six years, I can't make clear enough how spot-on Birch was. And Steve Buscemi will never get an Oscar nomination (this is one of the sad facts that us real movie lovers just have to surrender ourselves to, just as we know that Freddie Prinze Jr. will keep getting work and Quentin Tarantino will never again make a movie that will touch "Pulp Fiction"), but if he ever were to get one, it would be fore this impeccable film.
OCTOBER: I can't tell you much about "Hearts In Atlantis" except to say that it got me. It didn't make any money, and I heard plenty of people bitch about it not comparing to the book (which I've now read, and while it was pretty great, I think they pulled off at least capturing the bookend stories as successfully as possible), and Anthony Hopkins won't get the recognition he so richly deserves. But I've taken a fair amount of shit from a number of friends (and exes) for being a crier at the movies, and this is the only movie in recent memory that made me cry. And I can't explain why, but the way Hopkins says "yeah" in any recent performance is one of my favorite things in movies today.
David Mamet's "Heist" is also worth remembering, if for no other reason than marking a welcome return to form after "State And Main"--cute, some good lines and performances, but the timing was all off. Here we find Mamet working in the con games, double-backs, and lowlifes that he's at this best in (see "Spanish Prisoner", "House of Games", "Glengarry Glen Ross", see them right now), and after cleaning up his act for whatever reason (for the PG-rated "Prisoner", the G-rated "Winslow Boy", and so on), the best American writer of profanity finally writes some profanity, painting with "fuck" the way Picasso did with oils. (He did oils, right? Hey, I can't know EVERYTHING). "My motherfucker's so cool, "Ricky Jaye tells Sam Rockwell, "when he goes to sleep, sheep count him." Hackman, Lindo, and DeVito were flawless, but Jaye walked off with the majority of great lines, including his response to DeVito's interrogation, which I think went something along the lines of "So you gotta understand, I'm reluctant to tell you,", with the best deadpan face I've seen since Keaton. Well, maybe you had to see it. And you should. It'll be out on video in March.
NOVEMBER: November was the month when I finally liked David Lynch. I can't remember a movie I hated as much as "Wild At Heart"(wait, okay, I can. "Down to You." And "Lost in Space". And some others. But I really did hate "Wild At Heart"), which I turned off about forty-five minutes in. And "Lost Highway" had some cool ideas, and a Richard Pryor cameo, but I couldn't get into it. And "Twin Peaks" didn't do it for me either. And "The Straight Story"? Booooooring. And since I always felt okay about hating (or not getting) Lynch since Roger Ebert felt the same way (except for "Straight Story"), I took notice of his four-star review. And when I saw the movie, I don't know why it worked for me when so little else he's done did (oh! Just remembered. Liked "The Elephant Man". But that was a looooong time ago), but it worked and worked and worked. Maybe it was the hot lesbian scenes, but I don't think so (or, at least, I think there were other things too). I just couldn't take my eyes off it. I can't explain it to you (well, I have a theory, but it's full of holes) and it's without question the single strangest film I've ever seen, but I loved it.
Oh yeah, Cinemas West. Okay, skip this paragraph if you're REALLY sensitive to spoilers, but I'll try not to give anything way. The last couple of shots are so beautiful, and then it's back to Club Silencio, and then the weirdo in the box seat says "Silencio" and they fade to black slowly and the credits come up? Very effective and moody ending, right? Well, I can't tell you for sure, since the first time I saw the film at Cinemas West the dumb cocksuckers brought up the house lights and switched on the before-movie slides and turned off the closing credits music before the fade to black was even over. You know the slides I'm talking about? With like a picture of Drew Barrymore and three movies she was in? Yeah, that kinda spoiled the mood of the end of the picture. The end credits ran under the slides for a while, and then they finally turned the lights off but never turned the sound back on, and I tried to go out and complain, but (shocker) nobody was around. Cinemas West, I wanna support you. But I'm like one of the wives in the trailer homes on "Cops" with you. You keep kicking my ass but I go back for more.
DECEMBER: Hey, critics. Quit your bitchin' about "Ali". Especially you, Ebert--your two-star review is the most woefully misguided application of that rating since you slapped it on "Erin Brockovich" last year. "Ali" is a tremendous piece of filmmaking: involving, energetic, beautifully shot (director Michael Mann continues to prove that he is one of the best composers of the wide-screen frame) and brilliantly acted by a stellar cast, led by Will Smith in an astounding performance. Every move Smith makes is believable, both as a boxer and as a public figure, as he effortlessly crystallizes Ali's grace, righteousness, and charisma. Two small complaints: First, the assassination of Malcolm X shouldn't have been shown (it too closely resembles the same sequence in Spike Lee's "Malcolm X" and, as James Berardinelli points out, it's not the assassination itself that matters to this story, but Ali's reaction to it) and within that sequence, Mann should have found another song besides "A Change Gonna Come"(also used at the end of "Malcolm X", prompting my friend Earnest to ask if it was the official Malcolm X assassination theme song); and second, ending the film with the 1974 "Rumble In The Jungle" against George Foreman is a smart move on a story-telling level, and these passages are well told, but they simply can't compare to "When We Were Kings", the 1996 documentary of the event. But I realize most people who will see "Ali" will not have seen "Kings"(which is too bad), and these are nitpicky things anyway. "Ali" kicks nearly as much ass as it's subject.
I wanna get into "Ocean's Eleven" and "Vanilla Sky", but I've said too much already, and I've got a lot to say about both of them. So they'll get a separate column, and I won't take six months to write that one. Promise.