Three and only three movies I chose to see during this pre-holiday season. All featured killing, lots of it. Why so much killing? Well, I suppose if I didn't want to see killing, I should have spent my discretionary entertainment dollars on Lars or Juno. But then I might have wanted to commit suicide.
The best of the three: "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead." Lumet, an old school director, knows how to get actors to act: Albert Finney from back in the day, Ethan Hawke from today. The squirming, maddening desperation of circumstances beyond one's control: this picture captures it. And the cast puts on an acting clinic.
Next best: "No Country for Old Men." Coen bros. films are just so damn well made; every shot is exactly right (even if casting isn't always, e.g. J.J. Leigh ruining "The Hudsucker Proxy.") and the scrupulous attention to cinematic detail is like fine wine. Thus, a perfect hook-up with Cormac McCarthy. McCarthy is a great writer, and even though "No Country" is not his best novel, the Coens have done it proud. (Film often elevates good but not great novels, whereas great novels usually stand on their own. Same with great music: ballet companies love to dance to Tchaikovsky, but you don't see many tutus en pointe with Mahler.) The bloodshed in "No Country" the film, as in the novel, gets old after awhile. But craft---scintillating craft--redeems both.
The pits: "Southland Tales." Silly plot, pretentious themes, bad acting. That the money spent on this picture wasn't instead donated to charity is a sin.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)