Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017)

Posted on May 31, 2017 by 4 Star Films

I find that my own life was greatly influenced by my father during my most formative years, in particular in the realm of music. I grew up on the classics of the ‘60s. But there’s that juncture in time perhaps during middle school where you begin to branch out and you latch onto other sounds for some inexplicable reason. And it doesn’t have to be modern artists but even those who your parents never imparted to you. That is to say that “Brandy” by Looking Glass is such a song for me. I loved it the first time I heard it and not on any provocation of my parents. I consider it one of my own personal favorites.

Thus, when Guardians of the Galaxy opens in Michigan in 1980 “Brandy” blaring on the radio of a sleek convertible I resonate with the moment. The man and the woman are unknown to us but that familiar Dairy Queen Middle America matched with that paradoxically joyfully melancholy love song pulled me into Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 in an instant.

In this way, the film still plays to its strengths namely a retro vibe that’s in perfect cadence with the tongue in cheek tone and explosive sci-fi storyline. Writer-Director James Gunn is back in the driver’s seat delivering his expected riff off the Marvel blockbuster that at this point is both irreverent and violent with persistent zingers and mild touches of heart. It’s the kind of entertainment that will easily find a broad audience because once more he delivers the goods while simultaneously making light of them. We generally like him for not taking his subject matter too seriously, even if sometimes it, ironically, feels like the story dips too quickly into melodrama.

Still, at its core is a misfit hero that we love to cheer for in Peter Quill (Chris Pratt). This film examines in greater depth his own identity as a part human part spaceman. He’s still reeling in the shadow of his mother’s death many years ago and then he meets the man purported to be his father (Kurt Russell) the charismatic Ego.

Meanwhile, there are his other relationships to be parsed through and in many ways, they get pushed to the fringes. Baby Groot (Voiced by Vin Diesel) definitely ups the cute factor and Rocket (Voiced by Bradley Cooper), as well as Yondu (Michael Rooker), are there to play their crusty curmudgeon roles that nevertheless are given a bit of definition. We like them better by the film’s end as might be expected just as we are made to consider the dynamic between Gamora and her vengeful sister Nebula.

So Guardians is not only grounded by Walkman and classic tunes and a very human sense of humor but these relational moments. True, they’re not played out to the best degree as Quill tries to figure out his “Sam and Diane” thing with Gamora (Zoe Saldana) or reconcile his feelings for his father but that’s okay.

My only qualms are the fact that sometimes Gunn seems to play too much into the jokes and tries to delve into the conflict too quickly so it comes off a little shoddy. The laughs are funny initially and the drama compels us at first but at times Guardians seems to stretch itself too far tonally. It was not meant to do that much.

But the characters are still an endearing ragtag band of misfits, the music is spot on (ie. Sam Cooke, Glenn Campbell, Electric Light Orchestra, Fleetwood Mac, etc.), and there are some purposeful references to Cheers, Mary Poppins, and Knight Rider that come off wonderfully as nods to a bygone era and an earth that we know and love. Brandy’s place at the center of the film’s narrative helps in in the nostalgia department as well. Whereas, in a film like The Martian you get the sense that disco was considered a cool addition, in Guardians music is often so closely tied to the storyline and the tones created in each scene visually. It uses its soundtrack incredibly well.

An interesting caveat is the fact that in the rather unexpected arena of a superhero film, spiritual issues are briefly touched on. Namely ideas of a god complex, this idea of paneverythingism as coined by Francis Schaeffer, and even the idea of duality of persons compared to a trinity. It’s all perfectly introduced to us as we enter Ego’s creation with the sounds of George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord” wafting over the landscape.

Even if it only scratches the surface we are in some small ways asked to consider the true purpose of man, a being that while fallen is certainly meant to live in fellowship with others. What that’s supposed to look like is another issue altogether. If that’s a little too heady then there’s enough anarchy and joyous eye candy to fall back on. Enough said.

3.5/5 Stars

Red Badge of Courage (1951)

Posted on May 29, 2017 by 4 Star Films

Stephen Crane’s seminal Civil War novel was made to be gripping film material and although my knowledge of the particulars is limited John Huston’s story while streamlined and truncated feels like a fairly faithful adaptation that even takes some effort to pull passages directly from the original text.

Even with the film getting butchered by the producers and chopped down to only 70 minutes from its original 2 hour running time, there’s still a gripping power to this war story. The narration feels a bit forced (despite being delivered by James Whitmore) but beyond that Huston’s film has an undeniable resonance for the atmosphere it develops and the very palpable inner turmoil of its central character as portrayed by famed real-life war hero Audie Murphy.

It suggests the other side of what it is to be a soldier. The fear, the reluctance that wears on the individual, and it begs the question, who are the real heroes if not men who did their duty despite the very fears that shackled them? Portrayed in this film are men and boys who were thrust into conflict and they were forced to respond accordingly. Not necessarily because they wanted to but out of very necessity.

In the end, the realization is that maybe fear is alright and acknowledging it is oftentimes the very sign of a brave individual. Someone who knows their limitations and still manages to push beyond them to do extraordinary things. Because as FDR so famously noted, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. It can be debilitating, stifling our resolve to take action. Thus, it’s our response that’s paramount.

Barely 20 during the war Murphy isn’t all that much older here and it feels remarkably fitting for him to play the naive Youth getting his first welcoming to war faced with this very conundrum. He wants the glory of war. He wants that red badge of courage. But he’s too afraid to take it. The utter irony is how battle-tested Murphy was by that point in time–but of course, he became a hero at a very young age and that doesn’t necessarily mean it came easily or without a cost.

Huston also examines the disillusionment in the utter absurdity and idiocy of war sometimes. Though it had already been 6 years since the end of WW II with men such as Audie Murphy and Bill Maudlin involved it’s easy to get the sense that this was a rumination on that particular war’s effect. Huston as well had been involved in documenting the life of soldiers and Maudlin made a name for himself as one of the great wartime cartoonists originating the iconic duo of Willie and Joe. Murphy’s accolades spoke for themselves as one of the most highly decorated soldiers of his day but he also undoubtedly suffered from the trauma of PTSD.

The dialogue is ripe with colloquialisms and the images seem generally authentic with photorealistic visuals to match a fairly dismal outlook. It does not shy away from the reality. Figures constantly moving through the frame mechanistically. Claustrophic closeups, tights angels, billows of smoke and relentless gunfire make the battle sequences truly immersive. And the soldiers are played by actors of all shapes and sizes including Murphy, Mauldin, Royal Dano, John Dierkes, Arthur Hunnicut, and even Andy Devine.

If it had not been for the studio’s meddling we might be calling Red Badge of Courage one of the great American war movies. As it stands today, cut down from its original running time and slightly removed from John Huston’s original ambitions, it’s still a highly moving picture. Because moments of greatness shine through no matter the muddling factors. So despite its minor status and a runtime that suggests lesser fare, Red Badge of Courage is really Class A material through and through. Huston did not call it one of his best movies for nothing.

3.5/5 Stars

Have a wonderful Memorial Day and here’s to all the humble heroes in our armed forces.

Pandora’s Box (1929)

Posted on May 25, 2017 by 4 Star Films

The Greek gods created a woman – Pandora. She was beautiful and charming and versed in the art of flattery. But the gods also gave her a box containing all the evils of the world. The heedless woman opened the box, and all evil was loosed upon us.

It’s often extraordinary the international platform that silent films afforded their stars. Pandora’s Box is one of the now lauded pinnacles of Weimar cinema and yet its main starlet — its acclaimed cover girl — was an American. With her bob hairstyle and vivacious sensuality, Lousie Brooks became synonymous with the Lulu character she portrayed in this film. It was this persona that caused her to rival other noteworthy contemporaries including Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo.

Except she differed in that Hollywood was not her first choice. Hollywood was not what made her a star. In fact, she shied away from that route, instead opting for other avenues altogether. That’s how she wound up partnering with director G.W. Pabst in not only Pandora’s Box but another classic, Diary of a Lost Girl. Then when she had enough she retired from the trade allowing her legacy to be championed by film aficionados years later.

The film in itself is really a bit of a parable taking inspiration from Greek mythology and sectioned off into Acts like a stage play. Pandora’s Box, is of course, the titular object that released all the evils into the world leaving only hope behind. The parallels are planted early on as Lulu lives life with a flirtatious vitality but that’s precisely what leaves a wake of destruction in her path. She woos every man who comes her way, a dancer and performer for all who will lend an eye. As of right now, she is the mistress of a well-to-do businessman named Schlon but he realizes that he needs to protect his image.

He plans to marry another woman but Lulu finds a way to unwittingly needle her way back into his life forcing his hand and ultimately winning him over again. But the conquests that come her way never last and she truly is a destructive temptress — a landmark femme fatale — she cannot help but flaunt her sexuality. She’s energetic, pernicious, meretricious.

The turning point of the film comes at Lulu’s trial sequence for the deed that she unwittingly perpetrated. The prosecutor stands over her wagging his finger as she’s veiled in somber shades of black. Her journey could end there but instead, she is granted another reprieve and escapes with two companions to London.

Not being bogged down by Production Codes of any kind, Pandora’s Box plays with some surprisingly frank themes most obvious of those being Lulu’s overt sexuality as well as adultery, prostitution, scandal, and so many other taboos. However, what makes the film quake with emotion is the very fact that Lulu is hardly an evil individual. Misled, immoral, and destructive yes, but it’s easy to feel sorry for her. Hers is the ultimate tragic narrative because while she assuredly ruins other people, she’s only injuring herself even more so. She dredges up so much hurt and elicits so much violence. All her attempts at love are only met with brutality.

Through it all, we follow faithfully even though we know from the outset it’s all for naught. And that’s a credit to Louise Brooks’s portrayal because there’s no doubt that she has that special something that makes you turn an eye and look. Her performance runs the gamut of emotions so uninhibited, lively, and free. There’s a universal vim and vigor to her that still feels fresh to this day in an otherwise archaic mode of filmmaking.

The amazing thing is that she probably could have been a bigger star than she actually was. She never really realized the potential that she had like a Dietrich or a Garbo but that’s not what she wanted. Still, the notability came her way anyways. Sadly, real life and the cinematic seem closer than you might expect. Her life was hardly as tragic as a film but you wonder if she ever found love chasing after men as she did.

4.5/5 Stars

Review: East of Eden (1955)

Posted on May 22, 2017 by 4 Star Films

east_of_eden_poster East of Eden. It was John Steinbeck’s epic work. Showcasing a familial narrative sprawled across his familiar locales of Salinas and Monterey over the turn of the century. But as a film, it rather unwittingly became James Dean’s. He wasn’t even a star yet. He had been on the stage and in a few small roles on television. His performance as Cal Trask was his first film role and the only one that ever got released during his lifetime. As his following two films, both premiered after his untimely death (curiously not all that far away from this film’s setting).

Director Elia Kazan utilized Technicolor and the harrowing perspective of Cinemascope to paint East of Eden with vibrant colors and rather unnerving angles. It’s also true that Kazan, known for evoking intense performances from actors bread on the Method, was more inspired than perhaps even he realized when he cast Dean. The actor’s body movements. His moody histrionics. His angst emanating from those piercing eyes of his. Even his terminal sadness channeled from his own real-life desire for his father’s love. It’s all within the role of Cal Trask and takes away any doubt about who the focal point of this film is.

And for some, this might be a rather glaring problem with the film. Kazan’s adaptation of the latter half of Steinbeck’s novel focuses on the Cain and Abel dynamic between brothers Cal and Aron as they vie for the affection of their father Adam. For the film to work, each of these characters should be on equal footing. And it’s true that the film is a pendulum of emotional turmoil. It’s positively charged with virulent intensity. First, it’s Cal who is angry and isolated as he tries to discover the whereabouts of the mother he never knew. Meanwhile, his brother Aron (Richard Davalos) is happily in love with his girl and readily defends his brother against any criticism.

But as Cal tries with all his might to win the affection of his father by any means possible, things begin to change. No, his father never exhibits the type of pleasure in him that he so desires, but in his struggles, Cal becomes closer with his brother’s girl — gaining her sympathy.

As time passes, the U.S. is teetering on the brink of the Great War and still, Cal cannot earn his father’s love and his brother becomes more and more jealous. As Cal comes into his own, showing a certain amount of industry and thoughtfulness, it seems Aron becomes more withdrawn and cold. And still, Adam loves his “good son” the best.

James Dean’s performance is spectacularly engaging. I would argue it’s not a morbid sense of curiosity that draws us to him as a tragic hero. But he truly had a special ability to control entire scenes with a glance or some slight movement. Like a Brando or a Clift, he had a certain ability to tap into something that classical actors couldn’t quite touch. Whether it was realism or not is slightly beside the point because they live in characters who are charged with real emotions. It makes Dean’s role as Cal Trask almost palpable. You can feel all that is going on inside of him.

It’s the fact that Dean is so memorable, that brings to light just how much some of the other roles pale in comparison. Davalos does a fine job in his first film, but he cannot balance the scales weighed down by Dean. Raymond Massey on his part is a fairly flat actor not given to anything altogether interesting. It is Dean who elevates Massey’s role in a sense (even though Massey despised the younger actor). Furthermore, Julie Harris is a reputable performer with great heart but she somehow seems miscast (perhaps she’s too old for her role). And Jo Van Fleet gets into the film with a few integral scenes but even she does not have enough time to neutralize Dean.

Perhaps it’s because of the now iconic screen tests of Dean and Paul Newman working off each other, but part of me wonders if Newman in the role of Aron could have done anything to counterbalance Dean. Part of me rejects this hypothesis because Newman never had the same type of melancholy or intensity that Dean was able to muster. He was the likable one. Still, it’s an interesting supposition that in no way takes away from the phenomenal way James Dean burst onto the scene in 1955. He was an explosive supernova of talent — unfortunately for us, he was snuffed out far too quickly.

4/5 Stars

Blue Jay (2016)

Posted on May 20, 2017 by 4 Star Films

Are you leaving room for Jesus?~Amanda

You know it. Catholic school forever.~Jim

Is it true that nostalgia always feels like it should be in black and white? If that sentiment is true there’s a rooted purpose in Blue Jay’s muted black and white tones that run deep. So often we consider it as a gimmick in the modern film spectrum but here it works.

This is a story of boy meets girl again. Now they are both 20 years older no longer naive high school sweethearts and he’s lost his mother and she’s now married to a man many years her senior. They’ve moved on you might say as is customary with those living life. But this day they run into each other at the local market. The stage is set for a fulfilling reunion.

However, in the opening interludes, we don’t know anything about either of them. Jim (Mark Duplass) with his scruffy ensemble and Amanda (Sarah Paulson) with her knit cap. For us, both of them have a clean slate but for the two of them meeting again is a mixed bag of emotions.

In these moments, it seems like all parties involved with the film are trying to make everything as unbearably awkward as possible. Is this the way movies work? A script must always acknowledge the sheer awkwardness of it all, creating certain pretenses, and piddling around with what characters are actually thinking. Is it simply a mean trick of a screenwriter to try and pull us into his story, in this case, Mark Duplass, or is there actually some truth to it all?

Are people actually this awkward in real life? Heaven forbid we actually act like this when we’re together or worse yet with someone we have a crush on. I can answer that rhetorical question almost instantly as a multitude of cringe-worthy moments surge to the fore. So yes, there’s probably some truth here and yes, Duplass is drawing us in. Of course, the final joke is that the film utilized no script at all only simple character arcs to arrive at its conclusions.

Still, these moments are only the setup. It’s not Blue Jay at its best. The film comes into its own as time progresses and the contours of the two characters become more evident with every memory they manage to conjure up and every little thing they do together that takes them through their old routines. They stop at the local liquor store and the proprietor (Clu Gulager) with his cowboy hat welcomes them in like old times. Whether or not they know his unassuming roots in western television lore is another thing altogether.

Then, they make the rounds of Jim’s old family home, the house of his deceased mother which is left pretty as it was when he was still a teenager. Piled high with treasures, clothing, trinkets, romance novels, and other artifacts from that long bygone era known as the 1990s.

They let the nostalgia waft over them as they reminisce together, playing their admittedly dorky version of “House” as Mr. and Mrs. Henderson and exhibiting the funkiest ’90s dancing as two of the whitest kids you know. But they accept their quirks and how dorky they are. That’s the fun part as they remember their younger days.

It’s in these wistful and yet still somehow carefree moments that the film recalls one of my favorite lyrics,

Here’s to the twilight
here’s to the memories
these are my souvenirs
my mental pictures of everything
Here’s to the late nights
here’s to the firelight
these are my souvenirs
my souvenirs

I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you’re smiling, you’re so alive
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had no idea
that life was just happening
life was just happening

In the final stretch there some big reveals, there’s some of the drama we were expecting, some of the histrionics that we were wary of from a film such as this. After all, they’re in a confined space together with so many emotions still dwelling inside. You wonder about the old dichotomy that men and woman can either be married or unmarried. They’re never just friends because the boundaries become too difficult to maintain. The self-restraint too difficult to manage even in the most self-controlled of us all. After all, metaphorically speaking, a man can’t scoop burning coals into his lap without burning himself.

But we’ve come to care about the characters enough that’s there no sense that this is some shallow attempt to play with our emotions and get a rise out of us. Somehow it feels like a less flawed iteration of Your Sister’s Sister because it’s frank but never purposely crass and more than its predecessor Blue Jay feels true blue and sincere. It’s a more intimate even heartfelt drama that wins its audience over.

These characters deservedly earn our respect and even in the modicum amount of time they do well to build a rapport with their audience. They do the heavy lifting by opening up and we are called to respond accordingly. The tears and the laughter are intermingled. The regrets with the reality. The way we perceived things would look farther down the road and how they look now. I guess you could say that it’s the blue jay way–reflected precisely by the path this film takes.

It’s the memories and the dashed hopes it starts to pull out of the closets back out into the open. It’s joy. It’s laughter. It’s pain. It’s heartbreak. And as is usually the case with life the ending is unwritten. That’s why they’re still making films like this, now until the end of time.

3.5/5 Stars

Roman Holiday (1953): Escapism and Why That’s Okay Sometimes

Posted on May 18, 2017 by 4 Star Films

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I’ve made a point of suggesting that the reason that I return to movies, again and again, is not because I go to them as an outlet of escapism but for the fact that films give us a little bit more insight into the lives we lead as human beings. In some ways, you could say I’ve even vehemently warned against films functioning in such a way if that’s their sole purpose. In other words, I’m not a proponent of turning on a movie and tuning out all the periphery. It sounds a little too much like Timothy Leary for my tastes.

And yet I return to Roman Holiday time after time. This story that literally functions as a fairy tale, a vignette-filled journey that perfectly encapsulates a day on the town. And we get the pleasure of returning to it again and again along with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn. I will qualify why this all still makes sense but first, a little background is in order.

From the first time I saw it, on a plane flight to England, I was enamored by the whole adventure and the individuals involved. Hepburn has remained unequivocally my favorite actress of all time period. Gregory Peck’s lasting screen presence keeps him among the greats as far as film stars go.

They make Roman Holiday work so impeccably, but the major key to director William Wyler’s success is the very fact that he took his film on location — something that was still a fairly new phenomenon. So instead of getting some artificial Italian world conjured up on the Paramount backlot, we got a far more realistic experience that is almost palpable with its authentic flourishes.

They’re the kind of iconic panoramas that you cannot try and fake without them turning out ridiculously corny. But Roman Holiday is the real deal and that shines through its crisp black and white imagery and successfully turns Rome into the third major player in this romance.

I think it’s telling that Roman Holiday is a fairy tale in itself. It’s the story of Princess Ann’s little bit of escapism. It’s a bit of bliss that she gets to share with someone very special. But does she wrap herself in it forever and never return to reality and the responsibilities she has? No, she goes back to them. And there’s a reluctance and as an audience, it’s certainly bittersweet.

But look at Ann in the end and we see that she has truly grown up in that short span of time. If she had not, she would have undoubtedly been content with a life living out her little fantasy and forgetting everything else around her of substance. That’s so easy to desire after all. However, in doing what she did, she not only grew immeasurably but, in the end, she has a magical experience to hold onto and remember fondly. The fact that it cannot last forever only makes it that much more special.

There’s nothing wrong with vacation — a day of rest and relaxation is necessary for all of us. It’s no coincidence that we have a weekend built into our daily rhythms. That’s why I enjoy returning to Roman Holiday every few years because it’s alright to have that guilty pleasure every once and a while. In fact, it’s not a guilty pleasure at all. You could make a case that stories like this are even necessary. But the important distinction to make is that escapism is fine — I’m not against it completely — but it needs to be in moderation.

We can return back to earth after the fun of the fairy tale and simultaneously our lives are made better and we have the good times to look back on. I will continue returning to Roman Holiday for years to come and without the least bit of hesitation. A little bit of fantasy can be a very good thing. I’ll try and remember that.

5/5 Stars

Review: 8 1/2 (1963)

Posted on May 15, 2017 by 4 Star Films

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Is the subject of this film a religious one? – A Religious Leader

Yes, well, in a manner of speaking. – Guido

It famously opens with a dream. Our main character stuck in a silent traffic jam, completely disillusioned by the scene around him until he’s able to escape everything inhibiting him and soar into the upper echelons of the atmosphere. But it hardly lasts. Soon he finds himself tethered, being brought back down to earth.

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Our protagonist of sorts turns out to be Guido (the famed Italian icon Marcello Mastroianni), a film director who is going through a spell of director’s block. His most recent activities include an extended stay at a luxury spa at the behest of his doctors. It’s also early on in the film that someone asks him if his next film is also going to be one devoid of hope. It’s a very quick statement but in some sense, it sets the groundwork for Fellini’s entire film.

And it is a very personal film and a fascinating exploration of the art of filmmaking — the thing making it the most compelling is the strange suspicion that parts of Fellini himself dwell inside of Guido. Perhaps Guido shares a bit of his philosophy and stance or more precisely Fellini is like his main character.

The film within a film soon becomes evident and in that sense, it’s also a personal picture. Its title being derived from the number of pictures the Maestro had directed thus far. And numerous meta qualities come to the fore, most obviously when Guido is going through the screen tests his producer (Guido Alberti) and wife Luisa (Anouk Aimee) among those viewing the proceedings.

But going back to that issue of hope, the film’s finale has always been striking to me but I realized that it takes on new meaning put in the context of higher issues altogether. In some respects, Guido or Fellini, whichever you prefer, is trying to derive some sort of higher meaning, whatever that means to him.

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That’s in part why he has his legions of characters join hands in an almost communal dance of absurdity. Simultaneously, a journalist can be heard throwing his questions out, “Are you for or against eroticism?” and in the same breath, “Do you believe in God?” Because this is Fellini’s answer — the solution he has drawn up for himself. There is a sense of grandiose absurdity that is full of dreamscapes — where the distinction between reality and fantasy hardly means anything. Because in the eye of the beholder they are hardly different.

On purely a level of spectacle, it’s indubitably a fascinating set-up. Fellini is known for his quintessential style. To be Felliniesque is to be wrapped up in the surreal and the fantastic. But the philosophical conclusions that go hand in hand with such a provocative approach to film are rather disheartening. If this is part of what Fellini is trying to grapple with as it pertains to love and ultimate truth then 8 1/2 does fall back on a rather dismal ending.

As Guido explains to the man of the cloth, he is looking for some flash of understanding, some obvious moment of truth, like Saul at Damascus. He, like all his peers, carries the foundations of a Catholic upbringing. The religious authorities tell them that there is no salvation outside the church. His strict Catholic school told him what was wrong. Likewise, Guido plans to have a spaceship in his next film — humanities “new Noah’s Ark.” And it’s true that space exploration has been the final frontier, a beacon of potential hopes and truths. You see that in later works like 2001 and Solaris. However, Noah’s Ark was also a vessel to escape destruction as much as it was a ship of exploration.

In drawing other cinematic comparisons, Fellini’s film revolves around a pointless MacGuffin (the phrase Asa Nisi Masa) rather like Welles famed Rosebud. Truthfully, this is a comedy in the same way perhaps Citizen Kane is a comedy. In a similar way, Guido seems isolated, but his mind, in particular, is twisted up with fantasies.

The most divisive scene in the film is yet another fantasy conjured up by Guido that is either extraordinary humorous or sadly indicative of his state of being depending on how you view it. He dreams himself in the stead of all the women he has crossed paths with thus far, all ready and waiting on his whim — his personal harem of sorts — totally and completely objectified for his pleasure. Again, it’s played for truly comic effect but what are the implications?

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As the eternal beauty Claudia (Claudia Cardinale) notes, “He doesn’t know how to love.” She speaks of Guido’s protagonist but as the meta-ness suggests, this protagonist is Guido himself and going down even a layer further maybe even Fellini too. It’s precisely these problems that tie back into Guido’s disillusionment. “There’s no part in the film. And there’s no film. There’s nothing anywhere,” he says to Claudia.

Chaos and nothingness. True perfection is nothingness. His final conclusion? Life is a celebration. Let’s live it together. In essence, it’s true but the carnival showmanship and parlor tricks cannot obscure the bottom line here. As Francis Schaeffer once noted someone like Fellini “has no way to distinguish between right and wrong, or even between what is objectively true as opposed to illusion or fantasy.” That’s a terrifying world to come to terms with. During filming, Fellini supposedly kept a note on his camera to remind himself that this was a comedy film. But much like Citizen Kane, perhaps there’s a need to label it a tragicomedy. You cannot deal with such issues without elation being matched with some amount of melancholy.

5/5 Stars

Platoon (1986)

Posted on May 12, 2017 by 4 Star Films

platoon_posters_86 It’s a rather interesting parallel that Charlie Sheen is playing much the same role his father did in Apocalypse Now. At least in the sense that they become our entry point into the mire of war, specifically in Vietnam. But where Apocalypse seemed to belong more so to Brando or even Duvall, Platoon is really Willem Dafoe’s film. At least he’s the one who makes it what it is. His final moment is emblematic of the entire narrative.

But it is also striking that the film opens with an excerpt from Ecclesiastes as follows, “Rejoice young man in your youth…” But the latter half of that same verse has major implications that will come into play later.

For now, these soldiers muddle their way through their tours of duty the best they can. Smoke, beer, and Smokey Robinson is the perfect way to combat the insanity and humidity right outside your tent.

Oliver Stone conjures up themes of politics and government conspiracies. The first word is uttered several times throughout Platoon but in the general sense. When you get a group of people together vying for positions and attention there’s bound to be politics. As for government conspiracy, Stone doesn’t quite scrape that barrel, although to be sure as a Vietnam veteran himself perhaps he has a lot to be disgruntled about.

Instead, he has a cast of characters who get to reflect all the angst and disillusionment for him and it’s a fairly impressive bunch. Aside from Sheen and Dafoe, John Bergener, Keith David, John McGinley, Forrest Whitaker, and even Johnny Depp make appearance wading their way through Vietnam.

It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Apocalypse Now to draw too many comparisons. However, although Platoon is a perturbing film it’s not the same type of expansive labyrinth that I recall from Coppola’s epic. Charlie Sheen’s voiceovers attempt to add an introspective tinge to the entire narrative, but that is not where the strength of the film lies.

Platoon also has its share of pyrotechnics, in fact, it succumbs to them too often but that’s not the reason the film is affecting either. It’s the aftermath of those explosions. The carnage that is left in the wake of the barrages of RPGs. The bodies maimed and the images that haunt these young men.

And as audience members, it’s hard not to feel something. Repulsed. Angry. Frustrated. Confused. Perhaps that is the film working — giving even a zenith of the taste of what it was to be in the jungles of Vietnam back in 1967. This is one of those experiences I cannot take too often because it’s almost too much.

My initial hope was that Stone would not inject this film with his own brand or message and I will say that when I watch Platoon I am not left with the feeling that I am listening to Oliver Stone but instead I am watching something terribly volatile unfold. That’s certainly a testament to this film. In the end, Platoon is bolstered by its sheer intensity.

But back to Ecclesiastes, the earlier verse ends “and let your heart be pleasant during the days of young manhood. And follow the impulses of your heart and the desires of your eyes. Yet know that God will bring you to judgment for all these things.” And it’s this final bit that is important in suggesting that young men are laid low due to their joy. But it’s hard to make that type of assertion. If anything, a film such as Platoon is perplexing because the answers are unclear and the reasons the world works the ways it does are not known to us.

Young men will continue to walk through life naively and he will struggle through life questioning the presence of God as much as this seemingly apathetic indifference towards the suffering in the world. Whether Stone was grappling with those same questions is up for contention but the beauty of film is that it very rarely works on a singular level. It can mean many things to many people. So it is with Platoon.

4/5 Stars

Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)

Posted on May 9, 2017 by 4 Star Films

“How many times is a man so taken with a woman that he walks off the screen just to get her?”

This line spoken by one of Jeff Daniels’ characters is really the key to opening up the fantasy that is Purple Rose of Cairo. Here is a film where Woody Allen most blatantly gets to parade his love for the movies and it revolves around the Depression, a love story, and a movie theater. Cecilia (Mia Farrow) is a woman who gets by working in a diner with a bum of a husband (Danny Aiello) who beats her more than he loves her. Her one getaway is the escapist thrills derived from the weekly romances and melodramas found at the local theater. She’s one of the most faithful attendees making it out to the movies religiously and she goes back out into the world reciting all that she has seen to anyone who is willing to listen.

And there is a bit of Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. here as well. It’s not as inventive visually but several scenes that include the firing off of dialogue between the screen and reality work to great effect. That’s something Keaton could not do in a silent picture, have his movie characters and audience members interact so directly.

It’s striking that the scenes that have been constructed as “film” really do look like films of old. There’s an attention to the craft rather than the shoddy caricature of grainy black and white that we’re often accustomed to. Even the striking resemblance of Edward Hermann to Edward Everett Horton as well as the makeup work complete with black eyeshadow lends itself to the whole charade.

And Purple Rose of Cairo is literally about a man coming off the silver screen to interact with one of his viewers — one of the people who is devoted to him — and he loves her. The woman is, of course, Cecilia, and the man off the celluloid is Tom Baxter (Jeff Daniels the first time around) a man who was written as a supporting character, an archaeologist.

That in itself might be enough to play with but Allen takes his story a step further so it’s not simply about this unlikely romance of worlds colliding. But it gets even more intriguing when the famed actor who plays Tom in “real life,” the man Gil Sheppard (Jeff Daniels again) crosses paths with Cecilia. At first, he’s interested in her because she has a way to assist him in his predicament since she knows his unruly alter ego. However, over time it turns into a certain amount of awe because she is devoted to his characters and by a certain amount of transference, him as well. The question that is then raised rather obviously is, do you take the perfectly constructed fantasy man or do you go with reality? That which is right in front of you, both living and breathing and fully human.

It’s also a commentary on the rigid conventions that storytellers are often forced to adhere to. Aside from “art-house,” there can be little to no films with people talking or dealing with philosophical issues. That’s too mundane. Of course, Allen is notably one who matches his comedic delivery with his own philosophical quibblings. And this film is light but it still raises some of the questions he is often preoccupied with. Whether or not he comes to a satisfying conclusion is for only the viewer to decide, and if the film itself is any indication they are the ones who must decide. The viewer, in this case, has great agency. They are the focal point of this film, again, in the literal sense.

As is Woody Allen’s penchant, the film opens with an old standard, in this case, the crooning voice of Fred Astaire knocking off a few bars of “Cheek to Cheek.” And the story ends with Astaire & Rogers dancing the night away. While Purple Rose of Cairo cannot quite top Top Hat, it’s a bittersweet dose of 30s nostalgia all the same. It shows once more that Woody Allen truly does love movies with a passion. That’s one thing that’s difficult to take away from him, but it does beg the question, can movies really be your be all, end all?

Some of the implications are rather troubling as we leave Cecilia completely immersed in a film, her real life completely ripped to shreds without a marriage or a job or really anything else. But she has a movie. Except movies can only go so far in how they emulate reality. They cannot replace it or perfectly replicate what is real. They can only help us understand it better. That is why, while movies can and should be entertainment at times, they should not only be pure escapism. Because the reality is that life is still right outside our door. We cannot get rid of it or lose sight of our role in it — both in good times and bad.

We are probably all just as messed up as the next person and perhaps little better than Woody Allen in some ways, still, if we don’t simply love movies but hope to glean a little from them about life then we are better off. They cannot be the ultimate thing in life but they can direct us towards the important things.

3.5/5 Stars

La La Land (2016)

Posted on May 6, 2017 by 4 Star Films

After watching this film two things become astoundingly obvious. Damien Chazelle has an equally unquenchable passion for film and for jazz. He’s also extremely bold, going all the way when it comes to choices as a director with everything from camera set-ups, lighting, staging, even casting. In fact, let’s start right there.

Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling do not initially pop as performers. They’re not song and dance entertainers equal to the likes of Astaire & Rogers or Gene Kelly or Judy Garland. There’s no contest. But the brilliance of this decision is the very fact that these two beloved stars are one of the few remnants of the bygone Hollywood era where romantic stars were paired up together for more than one movie. Bogey & Bacall, Tracy & Hepburn, Loy & Powell, yes even Fred & Ginger.

And in a generation that’s often lacking that kind of history, Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling still have a bit of that cinematic romance tying them together not just in one film but in multiple allowing the audience an even greater connection with them.

It makes the musical thoroughly modern and yet most certainly takes cues from the past and the rich tradition that it was born out of. The film’s knockout opening sequence is a far grander more audacious riff off of The Young Girls of Rochefort’ while the film’s ending reflects Chazelle’s deep affection for Umbrellas of Cherbourg wedded with the fantasy scapes of An American in Paris.

But sandwiched in between those obvious touchstones is a film that’s at moments mesmerizing, beautiful, and engaging on its own merits. Chazelle’s sheer boldness behind the camera is thoroughly impressive because he commits to telling his story in the most extraordinary way possible. It dares to dream, succumbing to the glories of the movie musical, taking risks that generally pay off in a big way. Like Jacque Demy he plants his film in the real world, in this case, contemporary Los Angeles, but he also stylizes it through elements such as production design, color, and lighting.

Beginning with the extended artistry of the initial traffic number, cinematographer Linus Sandgren’s camera is about as fluid as they come, even overtly so, bringing such attention to itself that in many respects it becomes another figure, shaping how we view every one of these environments. Its conspicuous ways generally help to turn dance sequences and musical numbers into dynamic spectacles but there are individual moments where we might still question if a more static perspective is in order.

Still, it’s easy enough to disregard this as the camera is constantly casting its gaze on the world painted with the vibrant tones that brighten Los Angeles and allow it to enter a stylized awe-evoking state of eye-popping energy. Likewise, the storyline mixes and matches real-life locales with the artistic and the magical. It succeeds in becoming a diverse patchwork of lights and staging that sets the tone for every moment our stars are on the screen as everything from the backdrops to the very clothing that the actors wear is an extension of their current state.

Emma Stone is a real winner, genuinely hilarious and cute while still being overwhelmingly compelling as she struggles through her acting career balancing her “real job” as a barista with her true aspirations as an actress. And to his credit, although I wasn’t all that sure about Ryan Gosling in this film, with Stone by his side somehow it works rather magically superseding any other objection we might have about his performance. Like Astaire & Rogers, the song and dance routines become the galvanizing moments in the film as they should be. True, they hardly have the same caliber but their chemistry is what it holds it all together.

The minor influences of The Band Wagon can also be seen when they dance together in the night air overlooking Los Angeles. Meanwhile there gravity-defying routine at Griffith Observatory leaves behind simple references to Rebel Without a Cause and becomes its own spectacle entirely.

In all the other nooks and crannies you see the affection for film. The Killers poster on the wall, Ingrid Bergman’s face plastered up in the bedroom, and movie nights watching Bringing up Baby and Notorious with Grandma. But that’s only matched by the infatuation with jazz that similarly surges through the narrative. In this case, Sebastian is the vehicle for this passion. As far as criticisms the only one that I have heard voiced and I too can call into question is the very fact that a Caucasian male wants to resurrect jazz in its purest sense.

If nothing else it’s highly ironic because tradition says that this is an African-American art founded in those roots. That’s not to say that others cannot take the mantle necessarily but in some ways, Sebastian seems to think that people like Keith (John Legend) have sold out on their culture. I suppose that issue is still up for debate long after the credits roll.

Although “City of Stars” might be the most noted number developed by Justin Hurtwitz and Chazelle for this film, I must admit my personal favorite had to be “Audition” because Emma Stone delivers the song with such an earnestness that it’s mesmerizing to watch as all else disappears and we are left to watch her sing in empty space. Perhaps the film is often lacking the minimalistic moments and the juxtaposition of a scene such as this becomes especially striking. It’s so simple.

The final question to be asked is, what is La La Land or closer yet, what is Chazelle trying to say about fame and pursuing your dreams? Because in the end, it feels like a mixed message. The film is constantly a seesaw back and forth of following your passion, versus just making ends meet, to selling out or turning to alternative paths entirely. And when it’s all said and done and the movie has wrapped up we don’t know quite what we think.

We leave both characters in a place where they are undoubtedly better off than we found them in some respects. Still, there’s a wistfulness that hangs in the air, a bittersweet quality that lingers a moment longer and that gives La La Land a certain power that feels more complex than a simple musical fairy tale. That is yet another thing Chazelle borrows from Demy that works so well.

In some ways, it’s a very “un-Hollywood” ending and though the film does spend a lot of its time infatuated with that very industry, that doesn’t mean it can’t still be conflicted in the same breath. In fact, that’s probably the most honest conclusion it could have arrived at. Dreams are good, the world can be a magical place if we let it be, but that does not mean for one instant that we will not be met with heartbreak or difficulties along the way.

I found myself unconsciously asking myself, What does the title La La Land even mean? I had not fully considered the implications of the phrase. Yes, it’s having your heads in the clouds, maybe even existing in an ethereal world of fanciful dreamscapes as much as it is a moniker for those who live the Hollywood lifestyle. And it’s in both these places where the film dwells. Partially in the magical realms of dreams but also in those extremely human moments of confusion and failure. That is La La Land in a nutshell.

4.5/5 Stars