Tag Archives: film

Skip’s Quips: In the Wake of Sacred Samurai

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Blog Sketch 082813The last thing we need is another movie based on the story of the 47 ronin.

But now we have one … starring Keanu Reeves, no less. And seemingly reimagined, with all sorts of supernatural goings-on.

I think we should reimagine the Declaration of Independence, while we’re at it. And maybe the signing of the Magna Carta.

Yes, it’s a famous story, and famous stories deserve to be retold. But we’ve already had perfectly good movies made of this tale, helmed by directors ranging from Kenji Mizoguchi to Hiroshi Inagaki. Do we really need another version—especially one that appears to meld the stylized grotesquerie of 300 with the tiresome posturing of The Matrix?

Someone please give me a nice Zeami Noh play to immerse my brain in.

Hollywood has always tweaked history to make it more cinematically palatable. Movies have to be entertainment, and that sometimes means the events transpiring onscreen don’t quite match those in real life. Yet there’s a distressing trend nowadays to completely overhaul venerated stories from our past while adding extraneous details—such as over-the-top violence—to get the desired audience.

The point is being missed. And as that’s happening, the films lose their value.

A strong director can help make this bitter medicine go down. Quentin Tarantino certainly worked wonders with Inglourious Basterds, as flawed as that movie was. But these films are cinematic fantasies, merely “inspired by” rather than “informed by,” and any attention to historical detail, I feel, is irrelevant. They’re to authenticity as reality TV shows are to life.

Hopefully, one day, we’ll have a based-on-true-events film come out without the trappings of revisionism. Perhaps we need a story so hallowed that any adjustments would be taboo.

I can’t think of any, however. I already know nothing’s sacred.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Ah, Yes, I Remember It Poorly

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Why is it that some not-so-great movies stay in the memory and other, much better ones often don’t?

For example: The Omega Man. Sloppy, mediocre science fiction. Yet I recall the images from this Charlton Heston zombies-on-the-loose gloomfest more than anything from a seminal sci-fier I enjoyed more, The Day the Earth Stood Still.

It ain’t easy to forget a giant robot named Gort. Or the famous mantra “Klaatu barada nikto.” And I certainly haven’t forgotten them. But for some reason, they’re not as defined as all of the unpleasantness pervading TOM.

That includes the script, by the way … which could’ve been a lot better, given the source material (Richard Matheson’s book I Am Legend).

Perhaps that’s the root of the issue—that memory often focuses on “what ifs” over “done right,” deserting the positives for second guesses. At least, in my case. The idea of something close to quality may trump actual quality in the mind, presenting a puzzle that continues to disturb at the cost of remembering more important works.

TOM isn’t the only flick that does this. Nixon, Turnabout, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane—all of these horrid films I remember all too well, though I don’t want to do so. And they all could’ve been watchable, though each would’ve needed something more than a touch-up. (In Fairlane‘s case, a full cinematic makeover would’ve sufficed.)

So how do I clear my mind of these film fiascos and replace them with memories of David Lean, Satyajit Ray, François Truffaut and the like? I know of only one way.

Watch more of their movies. Put Gort in the DVD player. And maybe repeat the words “Klaatu barada nikto” in my brain until I get it.

A mind’s a terrible thing to waste … on bad movies. No reason, then, to keep them stored with all of those good memories.

Skip’s Quips: Accent on Credibility

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Blog Sketch 082813Could the greatest invention in the history of film be the subtitle?

I’m only kind of kidding. Where would we be without this wondrous tool, which has allowed those of us (including me) lacking fluency in various languages to enjoy works by Bergman, Kurosawa, Eisenstein, et al., without the burden of dubbing?

But that’s not its only benefit. Remember the time—not so long ago—when it seemed like all of the characters in movies set in countries outside the U.S. spoke accented English? Sometimes it appeared as if the accents didn’t need to be authentic … just unplaceably exotic.

We’ve evolved greatly since then, with subtitles informing a host of popular films—including those taking place in galaxies far, far away. That’s a positive step, though it doesn’t negate the continued bizarreness of time passing long enough in just a few scenes for any given protagonist to learn a native tongue quicker than a linguist devours alphabets.

I guess we’ll still have to take some things for granted. The language of the cinema almost makes me expect time to pass with a wipe in real life … or maybe with an iris. That it doesn’t isn’t disappointing; I just chalk it up to movie magic. Like I do the great subtitle—the silver screen’s own Babel fish—which has translated innumerable tongues for us, and in doing so, has improved the world. The folks behind this sadly unheralded art should be thanked.

We’d all be listening to forced, ambiguous accents without them.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Bring Back the Blood Squibs?

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I don’t know about you, but every time I see an action movie these days, I expect the gore to pepper the screen with pixels.

It’s hard to run away from computer-generated imagery. It’s all over TV–from commercials to ongoing series. And it pervades the cinema, where it has become, in some cases, the main reason to see certain pictures.

Yes, filmmakers can do things with CGI that couldn’t have been achieved 40 years ago. But is that always a positive? Are we relying too much on high rather than low technology?

I worried about this recently while watching Life of Pi, whose CGI animals—especially the growling, boat-hogging tiger—had a gloss and fluidity of movement that seemed slightly off. It was a solid technical achievement, surely, and the cinematography was often stunning. Yet the animals seemed less “real” than the fighting skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts. The tiger showed its stripes.

That doesn’t mean I think we should go back to adjusting models frame by frame and discarding all cinematic developments … though the process of creating CGI creatures may only be slightly less onerous. But I do think something’s missing from most of the computer-crafted images used today, whether it’s a tiger or a snowflake. It’s not just naturalness; it’s essence. Those battling skeletons—ludicrous as they may be—draw me in. That smooth-purring tiger doesn’t.

Somewhere Bruce the shark is rolling his dead eyes.

It’s not lazy—it’s being opinionated!

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Wrath of the Mythology Fan

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I have one thing to say to those bent on making films inspired by ancient mythology.

Stop the cinematic madness.

From Troy to Wrath of the Titans, most of the legend-minded flicks of late have been absolutely horrid, with lousy scripts, all-too-CGI-ish special effects and plodding direction. But their worst offense is the transformation of these exciting, insightful tales of yore into tedious, talky stories of bore. I’m sorry, but who gave anyone the right to say, “Hey, I think my contemporary, magic-free interpretation of The Iliad is better than Homer’s”? Hm?

It sure felt a lot slower, despite the abbreviated (from the original source material) running time.

The fact is, myths remain topical because they’re intriguing enough to say something to us after all these years. They don’t need any tweaking to stay scary, witty or disturbing. They’re good as they are.

This goes, by the way, for any reimagining of mythology from any culture—including the lamentable Thor, whose silly, made-for-the-modern-age superhero and evil nemesis Loki resemble their legendary Norse counterparts as much as Hagar the Horrible resembles Snorri Sturluson. Sadly, we’re due for another installment of this blah-riffic series, which only means one thing: Hollywood loves to reimagine ancient mythology.

But we knew that, didn’t we? Stop the cinematic madness, I say.

Smart is Scary … and Phony, to Boot

Skip’s Quips: To Squirm or Not to Squirm

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Blog Sketch 082813Bad movies make me writhe. Stuck in my seat, knowing I paid mucho moola to watch them, I only have one recourse as the flicks meander on.

Fidget. Courageously.

It’s what I did while watching Oliver Stone’s dreadful Nixon, a dull, overstuffed journey into the life of Tricky Dick. The darkness of the theater, the film’s length and the fact that walking out would mean deserting my friends all prevented me from running the heck outta there.

So I writhed. Shifted in my seat. Tapped my fingers.

As Father Merrin from The Exorcist might cry: “The tedium of the movie compelled me!”

What else can we do in the face of such cinematic horrors? It’s even worse when you’re at a screening, where one must maintain a kind of politesse. Your power to criticize vocally is taken away from you. You’re even removed from any light—so there goes your ability to exit without stepping in someone’s popcorn.

The movie is your master. And you can’t do anything about it.

That’s why, these days, I prefer watching flicks on TV. You can always change the channel if, say, Nixon graces your screen. You can always go to the kitchen to get a snack or spend an inordinate time in the bathroom if the film takes too long.

The power of TV compels me … to embrace it. As well as remember that we still have the capacity, as consumers, to avoid the worst movies.

More power to us.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: The Real Horror Picture Shows

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Let it be said (or written, as this format requires) that I’m not a fan of camp.

No, I’m not railing against burnt marshmallows, off-key singalongs or lopsided kickball teams. I’m ranting about the genre spawning the most insufferable Baz Luhrmann films or Stephen King tales. The ones that make Fellini flicks look subdued.

It ain’t art, in my opinion. And I wish we’d have less of it.

The thing is, it’s much easier to be over the top when it comes to script, direction, acting, et al., than it is to take ’em seriously. That’s because camp doesn’t need to be credible—it takes the short route, and that’s often enough.

Movies should be more than that. People shouldn’t have to settle.

The remake of Carrie makes me worried about this market. The original—camp at its most tiresome—seems to have accrued the luster of age, a phenomenon the villain Belloq cynically observed in Raiders of the Lost Ark. This sheen has been deemed worthy to capture in reinflicting this story upon the public, and I’m concerned it’s just the start of the trend. How much do we need of the same half-eaten sandwich, anyway?

The expectation, it seems, is that some people go to the movies to laugh at them instead of revel in them. To make fun of silly situations and come out thinking they’re like a ride at an amusement park, where cheap thrills welcome everybody. There’s a fear of becoming too involved in a real picture, such as The Godfather, where you’re forced to immerse yourself in a world you’ll never inhabit. Great films are scary. They require commitment.

Dr. Frank-N-Furter and his minions don’t require such dedication. It doesn’t stop, perhaps, their fans from participating in the campy singalongs. But such activities might cause them to miss the arias of real filmmaking.

And that, in my opinion, would be a shame.

Skip’s Quips: Asking Jokes to Take a Holiday

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Blog Sketch 082813Few films escape the pitiless skewer of parody, and The Seventh Seal is no exception. Yet as I was thinking about this black-and-white Ingmar Bergman movie today, I wondered if all the jokes are warranted. The fact is, they diminish public opinion of this great philosophical masterpiece, putting it in the attic of Works of Art That Are Too Frequently Lampooned to Be Taken Seriously Anymore.

That’s a shame, because this flick is as relevant and powerful today as it was 56 years ago.

One of the only films I’ve ever seen that evokes the fear and horror pervading the Middle Ages credibly—and done on a limited budget to boot—TSS features a stupendous central performance by Max von Sydow as an introspective knight who has returned from the Crusades to find his country ravaged by the plague. The surrounding cast, which includes Bibi Andersson and Nils Poppe as traveling actors, is brilliant, too, as is the wonderful, humor-filled (yes, humor!) script, brooding score and iconic cinematography. Of course, the black-clad, bald-headed Death also plays a part, in a memorable turn by Bengt Ekerot.

Is all of this worth making fun of? Perhaps. But I think the silliness has run its course. Now it’s time to revisit this glorious film and absorb its myriad pleasures—a bird hovering with menace in the sky, a squirrel jumping on a tree stump after Death has cut down a man trying to escape him, and the famous final “dance” in silhouette are but some of the movie’s glories. I believe it’s one of those must-watch motion pictures, and although I understand where all the jokes are coming from, I feel they hide its true worth.

So I’m going to open up this Seal again and ignore the parodies made of it. I hope it’s a start—I know it’s worth taking seriously.