Viewing Log #59: Mine, all mine [11/8/10 - 11/14/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

• The Taking of Pelham 123 [Tony Scott, 2009] As prep for Unstoppable because I didn't make it to the theatre this weekend and I did want to watch this one first since they're both about trains. As Danny and Andrew and I laughed on 6th Avenue that one time, its final shot is so fucking cheesy cheese balls that it almost works. And the movie's goofy enough along its nowhere way to love like a pet, like a fishtank maybe.
  
• —A bullet for the entire week. The first four episodes of the fourth season of The Sopranos [Fall 2002]. The early star of this season is Janice and her insanity, which is good for a "holy shit" as often as a laugh, as when she's encouraged to talk to Ralph about breaking up with the compassion she's famous for—only to, instead, throw him down the stairs. That this event also involves the other stalwart of this season, Joe Pantoliano's Ralph, speaks to the writers' obvious excitement at throwing these two hairballs of crazy at each other, if only for a few hours of screen time. And it's a great analog to Ralph's relationship with Tony, as evidenced in Ralph's kink to be pegged and degraded in bed. Because this show, fearless as it is, goes there.
  
  
• Whip It [Drew Barrymore, 2009] Kinda clumsy and clichéd, but winning with its jokes and its tight script and its performances, this thing's a real rawr'r for all the girls out there. And for saps like me, I suppose, who aren't afraid of the word "feminist" as much as they might've been, say, a couple years ago. Also, because, duh, this kind of strength is sexy as much as simply charming.
  
• Van Gogh [Maurice Pialat, 1991] Almost feels like a Renoir with all the hanging out at parties and the theatrical staging of certain events, but it's certainly a Pialat in its offhanded, everyday dealings with sex and desire. That is, nothing's sensational or trumpeted. Or, if things are, it's the violence people do unto one another, not the acts of love, which are always understated and (here at least) often edited around. Nudity isn't racy, it's a fact, for Pialat. Just as are flings and the fluid (some might say fickle) changes a person can seem to undergo in the course of an afternoon, or 67 days, though it's obvious to the aware viewer than the person hasn't changed; it's how s/he's choosing to interact with others, with the surrounding world. Which is to say that once again here's a film about perception as registered in actions, without psychology, or without access to the minds inside the many clam-like characters.
  
  
• Vivre sa via [JLG, 1962] # Another ringing BluRay recommendation. Amazing what JLG's able to convey with simple title cards, how two words will color a face five minutes later; a face, as is often the case, turned from the action that the camera's turned from, doubling the negation and the horror. The film also wins, of course, because of Anna Karina—but you knew that already. The point is to watch this and pay attention to the shape of it, not of her, as JLG's films are often blocky, as reflected in the 4:3 frame, but this one takes it further to break up the blocks themselves; it's a film of segregation, really, in the most basic way—separations determine everything. It's bleak. But it looks so good! (Sometimes I think it's the best one of this, the much vaunted, early period, because it's such a "pure" document. All the "tricks" serve some concrete answer to the question. After all, A.Baz's Q is the only one we all answer differently, and never the same way twice.)
  
• The Red Shoes [Powell & Pressburger, 1948] # Consider this my endorsement for the BluRay Criterion put out of the new Film Foundation restoration. Everything's sharp, sure, but there's grain in there. And the colors feel real as much as caked-on and painted-loud surreal. Not to mention the fact that the movie is superb, of course, and speaks to a number of things on my ideas-worth-thinking-about check list. This time all I could focus on, whether due to a flu or to this presentation, was the well-renowned mise-en-scene of the film. A favorite moment is somebody saying something about Lermontov leaving on the 8:15 train to Paris, to which Vicky responds by looking up at the top left corner of the frame, which aptly dissolves to a clock on the platform, hands at 8:05, with her eyes directly on it. It's a simply thing, really, and obvious, but it's also an effective visual touch that's become rather rare in the making of movies these days. It's also the kind of thing people like to laugh at, or point at, in current cinemas like, say, a Wes Anderson picture, as some kind of arch touch when it's simply good visual storytelling. Sure, there's variances in tone between my two examples but I get the same thrill from, say, Kumar saying, "There he goes," followed by a shot of Owen Wilson hailing a cab, as I do this clock moment. Though, of course, in a world of "cut-away" humor (even good versions of it like on this week's 30 Rock) this pointing within a story can seem short-hand for clever instead of actually being clever. At any rate, this picture is not just clever, it's gorgeous. And worth sharing.
  
  
• 30 Rock "Brooklyn Without Limits" [S5E7, 2010] We all know, as somebody on This Recording said, that it's Tina Fey's rack, not her butt, that turns LL's nerd chic into some kind of sexy (and makes TF's classier IRL attire that much more attractive) with, among other things, all those deep-V's. We also know that this season is turning out great, with "veiled" jabs all over the place: at the show itself, its character construction say, and at this modern world, as some say, with a bunch of dumb gross out jokes I can't get enough of since they're neither dumb nor all that gross.
  
  
• Open Five [Kentucker Audley, 2010] More here.
  
  
• That Paul Millsap explosion in that Jazz-Heat game sure was something. It's almost like Carlos Boozer's an afterthought these daze. Also, the Heat-as-villains can't quite work when they play like chumps coasting on cred they haven't earned yet together.

Viewing Log #53: Ring around the rosey [7/28/10 - 8/8/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

• Step Brothers [Adam McKay, 2008] Both Will Ferrell and John C Reilly are perfect at the adolescent petulance and a lot of the slapstick made me laugh a lot, too. Then there was the stray absurdity like the wood nymph and centaur fantasy, or the lumberjack fantasy, and I love it when this team will indulge those impulses.
  
• Date Night [Shawn Levy, 2010] It's fascinating how much I adore Tina Fey. Oh, wait, it's not.
  
  
• The Sopranos "D-Girl" [Allen Coulter, 2000] One of the lesser directorial efforts in the series run (what's with all those black outs?) but any episode basically centering on Chris is one worth watching.
  
• Gamer [Nevaldine/Taylor, 2009] Woke up early on a Saturday, much like the previous one (see below), and watched another Ignatiy-sanctioned id-blast of dummy horror show. I liked this one even more. Now, I.V.'s review is kind of like a mission statement for that dude (it would appear), as it starts with "Glory to those with the intelligence to have bad taste." My first thought's a shrug—I guess so—but that's all you need for this movie. I'd probably give it four out of five stars but only because it's an impressive feat of regurgitation and because it's short. Everything's got its source but, much as Gerrard Butler vomits up alcohol to start a car to escape the game, these N/T dudes are seemingly throwing up as many ideas as possible just to whip up your eyes like egg whites. Which is to say that everything's intentional but nothing's weighted beyond the play of light, rendering the entire 95 minutes child's play. What remains refreshing is that the film's not out to prove anything. We know what's right and wrong and apparently it's right to kill your way free of puppet strings, no matter the collateral damage, as long as you've got an absurdly attractive wife and daughter ready for your nuclear restoration. Prurience often masks pretty vanilla aims at bottom. Or so it goes in Ho'wood.
  
  
• Fort Apache [John Ford, 1948] Around the time John Wayne interrupts Shirley Temple and John Agar on the back steps, I heard myself snoring with half a beer nearly emptying itself on my lap and a plate of pizza sitting half eaten nearly toppling itself off the armrest. This was a reflection of my body, not my brain. I did have time, though, to get supremely affected simply by Fonda's face. Haven't identified why, yet, but his face makes me run through a gamut of feelings.
  
  
• Cemetery Junction [Stephen Merchant and Ricky Gervais, 2010] There's a reason it's going straight to DVD here. Not only is it neck-thick in British culture, it's just about as earnest as can be imagined with these dudes. This isn't to say I didn't laugh at all but it's pretty damned straight forward and features the worst tendencies of all the Merchant-Gervais comedies full bore: lots of mean-spirited jokes for the longest set up of the most sentimental pay offs you'll see. In a way, it's cute how they want to inspire (or some such) but in another way it's just rote.
  
• Armored [Nimrod Antal, 2009] About that script: terrible dialog but perfect B-movie structure with one body after another raising the stakes and the fever. About that director: he makes spaces legible, yes, but he's victim to the editing board's splay of coverage like plenty of others. What really amazed me, and maybe this was because I watched it on a computer, was that the sound stayed down; that the film felt quiet despite the violence erupting. Also, as Matt Dillon gets older, he and his brother look more alike (noses notwithstanding). Worth a watch on a Wednesday.
  
  
• Orlando [Sally Potter, 1992] Here's a movie. I didn't know it would be funny, like laugh-out-loud funny, and I didn't know it'd be so fleet. Every scene's got a joke or two and Orlando himself, becoming herself, is a joke already in a film: you cannot cast a man who will become a woman, literally/physically, so you've got to go androgynous enough that the switch, with whatever "true" sex apparent, will make sense. And of course it makes more sense to move away from drag in a story of actualization (though, of course, failures abound). I doubt I'll write any more any time soon (unless commissioned) about the picture, but I started reading the book and I already think it'd be a great object lesson for just about any class I could dream to teach (though a course on adaptation is the first destination I leap to) at a collegiate level. Which is to say, I hope to not simply see it with some other people who are important to me but to talk about it, too. If Haz and I ever live near each other again, we'll most definitely resurrect the podcast.
  
  
• The A-Team [Joe Carnahan, 2010] Because of this one, which I sent to my dad, which he basically agreed with to the point of denigrating Inception in favor of this slideshow's stupidity (or "stupid fun"). That is, I enjoyed myself better than I expected to, and Ignatiy's assessment of Bradley Cooper ("that he can make a face like a dog that's very happy to see you") makes it so I'll only ever be charmed by that idiot grin; he has the face of a movie star, sure, but he deploys the persona of every asshole I've met who reads men's magazines for "how to"s as much as for the glossy porn of purchase-able items. Which is to say that this is the flip side of Inception's appeal to the boys with money, the club-shirt side vs the I-wear-a-vest side, and it's no surprise that (though both are "objectionable") the club's more fun.
  
  
• Cop Out [Kevin Smith, 2010] Way too long, of course, and way not funny enough as the time ticks by, of course, but it's saved from complete boredom towards the end because Tracy Morgan does his Tracy Morgan thing and gets wacky at any moment he's allowed, which, it would appear, was an always-encouraged "always" on this set. Bruce Willis does Bruce Willis, too, but that's stale-ish and I didn't dig all the truly potty-based jokes. Final note: I'd be suspicious of the neighbor, too, if my wife looked like Rashida Jones and I looked like Tracy Morgan and I chose a profession that kept me from home more hours than I spent there. As if you doubted it: no future as an "arm of the law" here.