Hello, everyone! Just letting you know that my latest interview for CURNBLOG has been put to website, and it’s a doozy. It’s a conversation with Whit Stillman, director of films such as Metropolitan and The Last Days of Disco. In it, Whit discusses his moviemaking process, as well as his opinion of films past and present. You can read more about it here:
http://curnblog.com/2014/02/11/interviewing-whit-stillman-cinematic-sense-sensibility/
Hope you like it!
What audience is The Lego Movie trying to reach?
I only ask because, after seeing it last night, I’m thinking most of it will be over the head of your average 7-year-old.
It’s a pretty subversive flick, believe it or not. Full of frenetic jokes that only elder folk such as myself will get. And it doesn’t get all Hollywood sentimental until the end, though it seems like an organic conclusion.
But what are we to make about humorous references to “illiteracy” in a fantasy-themed Legoland or a male character eyeing a female one as she’s talking and only hearing “blah, blah, blah” or someone paying $37 for “overpriced” coffee?
I’ll tell you one thing: The kids in the theater where I saw this film weren’t laughing constantly. In fact, oftentimes they were pretty subdued. And I don’t think a children’s cartoon is supposed to do that.
Unless, say, it’s Watership Down … which isn’t really for children, anyway.
So where is The Lego Movie going? Hit or miss? It’s difficult to say. It’s going to have to get that adult audience, too, if it’s going to be successful. I’m not sure children are going to want to come back to see it.
But what do I know? I didn’t think that about Bambi, either.
Being a critic is a mixed blessing.
It’s wonderful to be able to look at film with a questioning eye.
Closing it, however, is the problem.
I sometimes with I could be less discerning when watching a movie. That I could enjoy a mainstream picture without criticizing various points.
Is that being normal? Does normal convey a kind of acceptance, a fealty? Is normal not quibbling about cinematography, about editing?
I want to be that and I don’t at the same time.
I would be misguided to assume I provide a service to humanity by criticizing films and broadcasting my feelings about them. Yet I do feel that expressing my thoughts provides some sort of benefit. Perhaps it’s not completely altruistic; perhaps the benefit is more for myself. But it’s a benefit all the same.
As long as I feel that way, I will continue to be a critic … for better or for worse.
Yes, I’ve been thinking of this. There certainly has been a host of miscasting throughout the years in the movies. Yet none so much, to my mind, as the ones that follow. Here they are in descending order of badness; take a look and see if you agree.
10) Robin Williams as Peter Pan in Hook: A dreadful performance by the usually hilarious Williams as the now-grown-up Pan in a horrid reimagining of the classic tale. This is one that belongs in Neverland.
9) Anthony Hopkins as Richard Nixon in Nixon: Mr. Hopkins can do almost anything, but Tricky Dick was beyond his ken. Then again, it wasn’t completely his fault; a more tiresome, overblown film you’ll hardly find.
8) Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie & Julia: Just put on a bizarre accent and roll, right? Isn’t that the way to portray the seminal TV chef? Nope. It sure seemed like that was the plan in this awful film, which plodded its way to the ending like one staggers through an Escoffier-planned meal. Let the diner beware.
7) Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments: I never bought this one, despite its relegation to “classic” status. Not in my tablets. One has to wonder if Moses’ jaw was really that square. Surely his acting wasn’t.
6) Mel Gibson as Hamlet in Hamlet: At one time, I tried to convince myself that Gibson’s performance as the titular Shakespearean hero was interesting. Ah, those were the (naive) days. Really, it was a mannered, tedious portrayal in an otherwise decent film. Why, Franco Zeffirelli, why?
5) Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland: Stop the insanity! I’m not sure if this backstory-driven reimagining of the Lewis Carroll book was director Tim Burton’s idea or not, but it didn’t work. Especially dreary was Depp’s misguided portrayal of said Hatter as a tragic figure. Repeat after me: Aargh! This was not frabjous casting.
4) Tony Curtis as the Viking Eric in The Vikings: A Viking by way of the Bronx. Can you say: “Riiiiiggghht.” Sorry, Tony, we love you, but not in this.
3) Nicol Williamson as Merlin in Excalibur: What a wrong, strange performance this is. Excalibur‘s an otherwise intriguing film, but I’ve always been puzzled by Williamson’s peculiar, sometimes–quiet-sometimes-loud-and-always-bizarre acting decisions as the legendary wizard. Odd and unconvincing portrayal.
2) Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra in, what else, Cleopatra: Do you have a hard time getting through this picture? Don’t worry; everyone does. Central to this issue is Taylor’s performance. Ah, the grandeur that was Hollywood.
1) John Wayne as Genghis Khan in The Conqueror: Need I say more?
Are we allowed nowadays to express how little we’ve learned from Pauline Kael’s film reviews?
Or is that speaking ill of the dead? Because the last thing I’d want to do is speak ill of the dead … though, as I recall, Kael often spoke ill of the living, so that’s fine, right?
For instance: There was that completely non-judgmental review of Dances with Wolves, remember, where she suggests that director Kevin Costner has “feathers in his head”? That’s OK to say, isn’t it? I mean, levying personal insults at the filmmaker rather than criticizing the film is copacetic, no?
No. It sure ain’t. And I don’t think it makes sense to do that—no matter how bad the director’s films are.
Saying a flick’s poor in some way is, to my mind, much more fair. One of the reasons I never found Kael’s reviews enlightening is that they tended to include content, like the feather-festooned phrase cited above, that directly attacked those involved in the movies’ creation, for some reason, and that’s not valid criticism. Blast the film, not the maker. If the director’s a bad person, that’s one thing, but it also may be irrelevant. The picture is the thing when composing a movie review, and it should focus on that while describing what isn’t to like about the director’s techniques rather than the individual as a person. Keep the nastiness to the work.
I’ve never subscribed to the Cult of Kael, and although this is a big reason why, it isn’t the only one. I disagreed with her many a time on her perspectives, though once in a while I concurred. Yet her insistence on personal insults kept me from admiring her work overall. There are plenty of good critics in this world who maintain honesty without succumbing to such practices. Too bad Kael couldn’t do the latter. Frankly, I couldn’t praise that if I tried.
I must be remiss. Very remiss.
I hadn’t seen Billy Wilder’s The Fortune Cookie until a few days ago. Bad, bad me.
It was terrific. Not the greatest comedy ever made, but this witty farce, concerning an injured cameraman and his lawyer brother-in-law’s scheme to collect a fraudulent insurance windfall, was as smooth and quick on its feet as Walter Matthau’s sleazy attorney. I think I put off viewing it for so long because it was about insurance. Amazing how so dry a subject can make such froth.
I confess there are still a lot of fine films I haven’t seen. But I can now check this Cookie off my list. Thank goodness.
These days, I refuse to see any Woody Allen movie made after 1975.
That’s right: I didn’t see Blue Jasmine. You know why? Because I already know I won’t like it.
Plus, Mia Farrow told me years ago that I have a “beautiful singing voice,” so I do kinda feel biased. But that’s another story.
The problem is, I just don’t care for any of Allen’s films with serious themes. Even Annie Hall; it just isn’t my favorite. The non-humorous dialogue and situations peppering his later pictures aren’t credible in my book. And I can’t help but wonder why he gravitated to such content after making some of the most hilarious films to hit the screen in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Those include Bananas, Sleeper, and Love and Death, laugh-a-minute jokefests that, to my mind, are of higher quality and greater import than anything he has made since. He’s a terrific comedian. Why does he seem to feel an all-comedy flick is beneath him?
I’ve remarked before on the phenomenon of great comic actors taking on serious roles in, perhaps, an effort to be recognized for more “significant” work. Yet I wonder sometimes about a theory I have: that great actors are often great comedians, yet great comedians aren’t always great actors. It is just a theory, but it has held true in many a case.
Don’t worry; I’m not gonna patent it or anything.
Woody’s not going to go back in time, I assume, and recreate the past. We’ll just have to live with his annual or semiannual churnout of lackluster, serious films dotted with big stars. And I will have to live with not going to see them. What price contentment, huh?
I’ll just put on Sleeper instead.
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