Alright. A long post.

Mike Leigh makes films that I often procrastinate in watching perhaps because they are so dense and always deal with difficult, emotional subject matters. Vera Drake has been on my list for a number of years, but I never could commit to it; however, when I did, it was far more rewarding (if I can even use that word) than I had anticipated. I'll start with the visuals which use a stark, oppressive palette--plenty of blacks and and dark browns--befitting the 50s urban England setting, not to mention the subject matter. The title character is a spry and cheery older woman played by the mesmerizing Imelda Staunton who performs covert abortions as a side gig, though she accepts no payment for them. Leigh has a fairly obvious opinion on the subject matter, but it does not overwhelm the complexity of the issues. He focuses more on the oft over-applied term "slice-of-life" drama which allows the characters to fully realize for the viewer. The films later scenes carry more weight than I could possibly have expected them to, even knowing much of Leigh's filmography. A must see.

Mean Streets has been heralded as one of the premier offerings from Scorsese. Sure, it's good enough, but it did not carry the weight of most of his other earlier films (I think we can all agree he hasn't made a film a truly remarkable film since the 1990's Goodfellas). Visually, it is somewhat appropriate albeit somewhat schizophrenic in its over-saturated colors, and it has a few camera flourishes that we have seen echoes of from many more recent filmmakers, but there is too much narrative to say that it toes the line of episodic Italian films (Fellini's or Antonioni's) that it evokes. 

A movie like Shame is as difficult to pin down as it is to watch. It highlights the problems of male sexuality in the modern world of widely available pornography. Not to say that is its only or maybe even primary focus. I knew what I was in for after seeing McQueen's previous offering, Hunger, and it was at least as effective. He and Fassbender seem to have a tremendous working relationship. The character is appropriately out of reach from the audience and yet we still understand the progression of his actions. McQueen's use of the camera has the same panache we have come to expect as it highlights what takes place on screen in an interesting way at almost every turn. Avoid the film if you have trouble with some very sensitive subject matter, but if you can stomach it, there are plenty of rewards. 

The stories of Vincent Gallo that bounce off the walls of Hollywood and have spilled out into the hallway of the wider film culture abound. This is part of the reason I have avoided seeing Buffalo '66 despite its reputation. It turns out that Gallo is one of those individuals who alienates just about everyone he meets but is capable of incredible artistic creation. Buffalo is a fairly simple one in terms of film grammar, but the inventive camera work would keep you glued to the screen even if nothing else in the film was working. Thankfully, just about everything else works too. The script is precise and very often guffaw-inducing. There are so many wonderful and unexpected moments in it that I can't recommend it highly enough. 

Sidney Lumet has made some of the most revered films in American cinema, and one of my personal favorite directors. Dog Day Afternoon is a solid classic, though far from my favorite of Lumet's I liked his use of sound in the film, particularly at the airport which give us a sense that the world is impassive to the events that have gone on during our time with Pacino. Planes are coming in and taking off unconcerned with the relevant issues that were fleshed out during the film. 

Beautiful Losers is a rather unfortunate documentary about artists such as Shepard Fairey, Harmony Korrine, and Margaret Kilgallen, among others who have influenced the art world in the last 15 or so years. The problem with the film isn't that the material is bad--some is quite interesting and some less so--but its lazily constructed. Perhaps they were going for a whimsical tone to match the subject, but it comes off as simply disorganized and aimless. The interview bits with Korrine are mostly interesting, though, and the one time it seems to follow a particular thread is when the death of Kilgallen is discussed which is the high point of the work. But overall.....you can skip it. 

For a change of pace, the Avengers. I may get 40 lashes for this, but unless you are going for some mindless fun, I wouldn't bother. But as far as mindless fun goes, it is definitely the upper crust. Some fun one-liners, a plot that doesn't require too much of a stretch on the part of the viewer and not so awful casting. But still, if you are looking for substance, search elsewhere.

Morvern Callar is Lynne Ramsay's 2nd feature, and it is nowhere near as good as Ratcatcher, but a film with a great deal of merit. Her proclivity to emphasize still photography is still evident but the character of her images grows. You notice the shift during the trip to Spain but still with a distinct visual signature. I am also struck by the number of scenes that take place in bathrooms, particularly of characters in the bathtub. They aren't always integral scenes, but each has a specific bearing on the overall affect of the film. 

I must say that I do not see the appeal of Emily Browning's performance, which some have heralded, in last year's Sleeping Beauty. Her portrayal seemed flat to me. The crying scenes almost worked, but for whatever reason, I could not connect with it. That's not to say it is an overall bad film but neither is it good. There is a lot of room in the script for viewer interpretation which I appreciate, but there are some elements of the film were opaque without good reason. That is unfortunate because there are some great compositions in the film, a great emphasis on the aesthetic, and some gender related subtext. But it all felt incomplete. 

Another 3

I've been on something of a theater-to-film kick as of late, more by accident than anything else, but it has reminded me of my profound affection for the stage. Often enough, these translations do not work as well as they might seem to in their inception (I'm looking at you, almost all of the more recent Phantom of the Operas), though I think on the whole, stage to screen has a tendency to be at least tolerable. And of course there are numerous examples of spectacular translations between the mediums: Asquith's version of Rattigan's The Browning Version, The Ruling Class with the rapture that is Peter O'Toole, and of course Kurosawa's Shakespeare adaptations. 

I finally got my hands on a copy of Vanya on 42nd Street with Louis Malle behind the camera, and with Malle already being a personal favorite of mine, I was more than satisfied with the direction he went. He adds a few filmic layers on top of what is already a rich and wonderful slice of Chekhov. But Malle doesn't try to hide behind the artifice of his chosen format. He still lets Chekhov do most of the heavy lifting and allows the actors to show their love for the material and also occasionally their fears or misgivings about their roles or performances. And it is primarily a film about acting. The theater is old and crumbling, the stage is mostly bare, there are no costumes since the film is set during the dress rehearsal. But somehow we are drawn in by the soft lighting, the richness of the performances and certainly Chekhov's themes. But in allowing us the opportunity to sit in on this dress rehearsal and see the director and the small audience, the film is also about theater-going, about the church-like atmosphere when you step into the auditorium in anticipation of the couple of hours. 

The next night I pulled up Oleanna. Certainly a change of pace from Vanya, but not necessarily less powerful. David Mamet (who actually adapted the screenplay for Vanya on 42nd street, oddly enough) writes scripts that probably don't like you, just as I imagine Mamet would if you met him on the street. He knows how to write a tight script though. Is Oleanna as much fun to watch as maybe Glengarry Glen Ross? Nope. It takes on a larger number of themes than most  scripts do: we have issues of patriarchy, particularly in the context of higher education, sexism, pedagogy, the aggressive qualities of the teacher/student dynamic and the power struggles that go on within, among others. This can make it difficult to nail down what the film is actually getting at. Who does Mamet want us to understand more? Does the shift toward violence at the end negate the points that Macy's character was making throughout? None of these have clear cut answers. Having been a teacher, myself, I am familiar with some of the emotions that go along with the films setting, and it is right to call out Macy's character on these issues, but I am still not sure that he knew what was at stake until it was too late. And though we never see them, those on the tenure board are likely taking action against motivations that they, too, perpetuate. 

And one for good measure. This did not come from a play, but it almost could have been. Todd Field's 2001 film In the Bedroom is not perfect, but the performances approach a level of perfection in their own way. Tom Wilkinson is almost too good in this. Sally Field also plays quite well opposite him but the reason we have seen so much of Wilkinson in the past 10 years is because of this performance. Todd Field, while not a particularly wonderful director, captures coastal Maine quite beautifully, the sea, the lobster boats, the pastels. I will decline to discuss the plot since it would be terribly difficult to even mention themes when so much of the film's weight comes from a central action that radically alters the tone of it, but suffice it to say that it is a work that everyone involved in it should be proud.

3 is a bit more than company

In the past week, I have determined that Henry Jaglom's film are simply not for me. After seeing A Safe Place, I cannot find enough to justify seeking out many other of his films, especially when they are basically Godard films with less content (yeah, think about that statement for a minute). Orson Welles presence isn't even enough to lift the film out of its confusion. Oh, and Tuesday Weld annoyed me to no end.

But on to bigger and better things. Two good films from later in the week: Herzog's Into the Abyss, and I was finally able to double back to view Winter's Bone, thus proving how current I am. Winter's Bone is quite the psychological horror story. A tale of the small town south that is perhaps a bit inflated but nonetheless makes for excellent drama. The central character, Ree, is admirably written and her uncle Teardrop is brought to us by the wonderful John Hawkes who owns the brooding role. I realize this is a short assessment of the film, but the last thing I should comment on is the palette. The dark blues, blackish-purples gave the film the added push in atmosphere that it needed to make it top notch. 

Finally, Into the Abyss is certainly a lesser entry in Werner Herzog's catalog, but that does not keep the film from being a provocative piece of filmmaking. He is in Texas dealing with the capital punishment of a man locked up and awaiting his final punishment for a crime he committed when he was a teenager. What's more is that the film seems to assume his guilt in the crime without ever coming right out and saying it. The closest it gets is in an interview with the prisoner saying that in legal terms, there is no question between guilt and innocence, only about how his sentence will be carried out. It is a bit of an odd experience watching a film like this from a person who is a foreigner. There is a bit of fascination implied on Herzog's part and therefore on the part of the viewer as well about these deep south, modern "hillbilly" types. Having grown up in Texas and at least being proximal to characters similar to those in the film, somehow made the film more tragic for me than I imagine it might have been for other viewers.