Category: Film

We watched two movies over the extended weekend; two very different movies.

Under the Tuscan Sun was rented mostly as a light romantic time-passer to knit by.  It fulfilled those expectations with its predictable, romantic comedy aspirations, stereotypical settings and story, and sappy expectations.  I knitted.  The movie was mildly entertaining, primarily because of Diane Lane, who rescued the film from groveling in a swamp of cliche.  Despite these words I enjoyed watching it, once. 

G and I watched Munich last night.  This was a different kettle of fish, very thought provoking and disturbing film but not a great film.  Still we had to indulge in a glass of brandy and some light nonsense (HGTV) before toddling off to bed.  There have been far too many reviews for me to add anything here.  The movie was effective in getting one to at least think about Spielberg’s message.  The rather unsophisticated cinematography and lack of subtlety was probably more effective in getting one to think about what was going on that would be true in a more polished looking film.  At the same time, the lack of subtlety, was rather annoying in its insistence that you “get the message”.   

Still, I enjoyed Munich, if one can truly say that one enjoys watching a movie that at times made one squirm.  But then I like watching things that make me think, even if they make me think about subjects I would prefer not to think about.

Is violence, even justified violence, useless?  Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy!  Is everyone caught in a web from which there is no escape?  Probably true.  Is it avoidable?   Well, of this I am not so sure.  This seems to be one of the essential traps and flaws of human nature. 

In our slow and meandering begin watching movies again, and catch up with those we have missed, we watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind this week. 

I will admit to going into it with trepidation, the previews and information I saw when it was newly released left me with very mixed feelings, and no review made me think "I must watch this".  Although I generally like Kate Winslet, I have very mixed feelings about Jim Carey, thinking he can be brilliant or absolutely awful, and petty consistently evenly divided between the two.

Surprisingly, I thought the movie was quite brilliant at times.   The characters were completely unappealing and yet touching at the same time.  They touched on common threads of human emotion we have probably all felt at some time or another, but I could not help but wonder what these people were doing together in the first place.  At the same time the dynamics of the relationship were refreshing in that this cold look, at memory, emotion, and how our experiences and memories shape our lives was precisely that,cold, unlike so many sappy true love conquers all pap that we are fed daily in the cinema.  Although the film was well made and the story was marginally interesting, in the end, all I could think was "thank god it over".  The fresh insights did not overcome the fact that the movie was going nowhere, just like its main characters.

And so, my feelings are mixed.  It was entertaining at times, certainly confusing at times,  daring and challenging as well.  I am glad I watched it.  But in the end, when it was all over, I wondered why.  Why spend my time?  Did I learn anything?  Was the film truly enjoyable? Or was it just new and different and therefore something to see once only to ultimately forget.

I opt for the last option.

I finally got to see Brokeback Mountain and I am glad that I did,
although I had been rather cautiously interested before venturing into the
movie theater. I am not sure that my
mixed feelings were really due to the movie itself, but were more brought on by
the whole issue of the disappointments that often arise from seeing movies made
from beloved books and my own mixed feelings about Annie Proulx.

I had seen The Shipping News and enjoyed it, which at the time
surprised me because I had been absolutely completely unable to get through the
book. I attempted to start it more than
once; each time I gave up before getting very far. Eventually the project was abandoned as
worthless. The problem here is that I loved the story by Annie Proulx. 

Prouxl is an absolutely
masterful writer of short stories, and I view the art of writing short stories
as something completely different from writing novels. She is able to condense whole worlds,
scenes, or moments from life into a single line and imbue them with fullness
and life.  To be able to write a short
story is to be a master of the microcosm, to be able to condense epics into
compact spaces without losing any of their meaning or resonance. In The Shipping News I thought Proulx was a
short story writer trying to write a novel and not particularly
succeeding. My judgment may be too harsh.  Truthfully,  I have never attempted to read any other novel she has
written, although I have considered trying That Old Ace in the Hole.  But I seek out and treasure her
short stories.

Back to the movie: It
was certainly an excellent movie and it surprised me on several fronts. It was pretty faithful to the story. I think it was also pretty faithful to the
setting of the story and the people and places it is supposed to depict,
although I have no experience with the emotional lives of gay men and only a
little glimmer of a feel for the west and cowboys.. The cinematography is absolutely
beautiful. The movie itself is visually
breathtaking. The story is well done and
quite moving. People were sobbing all
around me. That I was crying as well is
no indication of anything as I will shed a tear at any particularly sad or
romantic movie no matter what my intellectual thoughts on the quality of the film
may be. Even Heath Ledger, an actor I
had previously not thought much about, considering him more of a pretty boy
than a serious actor, surprised me with a memorable performance.

But, for all its beauty and sentiment I think the movie does
not begin to compare with the story. I
suspect if I had never read the story I would think it is an excellent and
meaningful movie and the story itself would stay with me for some time. But the movie did not really stay with me:  I walked out of the theater, and, although I
thought about the movie, it began to fade; the scenes remembered from the film
were replaced in my mind by the text from the story, and found wanting. It was
like the movie was a shadow. Annie
Proulx’s prose conveyed far more, far more elegantly.