Inglourious Basterds (2009)

The opening scene of Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds is so tense, so disquieting, so rife with real human drama that I almost assumed that Tarantino would try something different with this latest film. In this scene and a handful of others scattered across the film, Tarantino's trademark dialogue sounds more subdued and realistic than usual, and he demonstrates his skill at orchestrating tension followed by sudden releases of violence. But the film soon dissolves into an overlong, self-indulgent, violence-glorifying mess, filled with so many film references that one wonders if there is an original thought in the whole film. In short, Inglourious Basterds is just like every other movie Tarantino has made.

The titular Basterds are led by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt, in an amusing turn), a soldier from Tennessee whose squad is intent on "doing one thing, and one thing only - killing Nazis." The Basterds eventually get involved with a plot by the British army to blow up a Parisian cinema during the premiere of Joseph Goebbel's new film, which Hitler and the top-ranking Nazis will be attending. The cinema is run by Shoshanna (Mélanie Laurent), a Jew who escaped death at the hands of SS Colonel Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). Unbeknowst to the Basterds, Shoshanna has her own plot to kill the Nazis.

Inglourious Basterds is a perfect example of a film that is less than the sum of its parts. The ensemble cast - assembled from America, France, and Germany - is terrific. Christoph Waltz in particular is a standout, delivering an alternately funny and terrifying performance as Landa, "the Jew Hunter." The period production design and costuming is exquisite, and Tarantino's eye for composition is undeniable. I keep returning to one inventive shot late in the film, when a shot of a laughing woman's face projected onto a burning movie screen becomes like a ghostly apparition.

But in the end, Inglourious Basterds falls apart due to Tarantino's excesses. The script is unwieldy, with several scenes dragging on far too long. More importantly, Tarantino never establishes a tone, and the film bizarrely shifts from war drama to farce to action movie to parody. There seems to be no unifying vision behind the film, unless it's another opportunity for Tarantino to throw together a bunch of disparate genres and loosely attach them to a storyline. Francois Truffaut once said that a movie must simultaneously express an idea about cinema and an idea about life. Tarantino's films have never bothered with real life, and indeed his movies can often be reduced to a list of their influences, ranging from Jean-Luc Godard to Sergio Leone.

More than anything, Inglourious Basterds reveals what an immature filmmaker Tarantino is. It seems to me that the film possesses no higher artistic goal than to watch Jews beat up Nazis real good. By the final scenes, in which we are treated to close-ups of Nazis being pelleted in the face with machine guns, I felt sickened and numb. Tarantino's films, I think, are essentially escapist entertainment, but his violence is often so graphic that you feel repulsed rather than entertained.

There may have been a time when Tarantino's combination of violence and humor, and his mishmashing of various genres, seemed original. Now it is tired and stale, the product of a director who refuses to grow up. It remains to be seen whether Tarantino will ever put aside his B movies, stop wallowing in his own cleverness, and make a movie that actually means something.

Verdict: **/****

DVD Recommendation: If you want a refreshing antidote to Tarantino, check out Martin McDonagh's In Bruges. That film is as violent, funny, and profane as anything Tarantino has done, but its characters are real people and not broad caricatures. It features a twisty, unpredictable script and the surprisingly effective comic duo of Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell. Also check out my brother Matt's excellent blog post about the movie and the differences between McDonagh and Tarantino.

Triple Feature: Taxi Driver (1976) / Goodfellas (1990) / The Departed (2006)

Martin Scorsese is widely hailed as one of the great American directors, yet before I began this blog I had only seen three Scorsese films, and abnormal ones at that – The Last Waltz, No Direction Home, and The Aviator. I have never been particularly attracted by his films’ subject matter, which often tends toward the extremely and unpleasantly violent. But after seeing the astonishing work of filmmaking that is Raging Bull, I decided to catch up with three Scorsese classics. Taxi Driver, which has been called by some the best film of the 70s, is a psychological thriller from the point of view of a mentally unstable cab driver. Goodfellas is Scorsese’s widely praised drama about life in the mob over the course of three decades. And The Departed, the film for which Scorsese finally won an Oscar, is a crime drama about an Irish mob and corruption in the Boston police department.

Taxi Driver is the oldest of the three films, and certainly the most daring. Goodfellas and The Departed, for all their merits, are basically genre films, but Taxi Driver is a bold, unconventional portrait of a man losing his grip on reality. Robert DeNiro, in one of his most famous performances, plays Travis Bickle, a war veteran who is now a taxi driver in New York City. Suffering from insomnia, he spends his sleepless nights shuttling people across the city, always repulsed by what he sees. “All the animals come out at night,” Bickle declares, describing the whores, drug dealers, and addicts he sees every night. “Some day a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets. “ Bickle sees a glimpse of hope in his miserable life when he meets a beautiful young campaign worker (Cybil Shepherd), but their relationship soon backfires. He also gets involved in the life of a 12 year-old prostitute (Jodie Foster), whom he tries to save before it is too late. In the end, alienated by society, Bickle resorts to shocking violence.

When I sat down to watch Taxi Driver, I expected to see a violent revenge movie more than anything else. But the film is deeper than that. It is a contemplative, brooding film about loneliness and alienation. Everything is seen from Bickle’s perspective, and the driving scenes perfectly emphasize his isolation from the rest of society – separated by that little plastic window, mired in shadow, and ignored by his customers, we begin to understand Bickle’s frustration – although the film wisely never tries to explain Bickle’s actions. Rather, it relies on the strength of DeNiro’s performance, who makes the whole thing seem believable.

Yet for all its strengths, I cannot pretend that I walked away from Taxi Driver with any lasting impression, or real insight. There is nothing particularly wrong with the film – DeNiro’s performance is excellent, Bernard Herrmann’s eerie score is memorable, and the cinematography is remarkable. But for all of its efforts to delve into Bickle’s psyche, I never became invested in the character – I always remained emotionally aloof, like Bickle himself.

I was less impressed with Goodfellas, one of Scorsese’s most popular and critically acclaimed films. The film, as its tagline declares, depicts three decades of life in the Mafia. Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) grows up in the 50s in Brookyln, and as a teenager becomes attracted to the allure of Mafia life – the cars, the money, the privileges. Much to the concern of his parents, Henry begins working for the local family, led by Paulie Cicero (Paul Sorvino), and the notoriously violent Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci) and Jimmy Conway (Robert DeNiro). Soon, Henry quits school and becomes part of the mob full time. Despite initial happiness, Henry’s lifestyle eventually leads him to a drug addiction, jail time, and an unhappy marriage, before he winds up in FBI Witness Protection limbo, where he still longs to return to the life of a “Goodfella.”

Goodfellas has often been compared to The Godfather, but for me there is no comparison. I will concede that Goodfellas is no doubt the more realistic mob movie – for all of its artistry, The Godfather is somewhat romanticized, the violence buried under slick montages and swelling music. Scorsese doesn’t fall for that – the violence is frequent, graphic, sudden, and often quite shocking. His movie is certainly an accurate portrait of the Mafia in America, and the performances all ring true. The dialogue always seems realistic and spontaneous, never rehearsed. Scorsese also does a suitable job of depicting the allure of Mafia life. The early scenes are at times playful and fun, reflecting Henry’s naïve perspective on the Mafia. “We were treated like movie stars with muscle,” Henry’s narration tells us, “we had it all just for the asking.” This at first glorious life is depicted with great flair in a long tracking shot where Henry and a date skip the line at an expensive restaurant, make their way through the kitchen, and find their seats while everyone else is standing outside in the cold. Of course, Henry’s lifestyle soon backfires into a hopelessly violent and amoral one.

But after a while, it seems like that is all Goodfellas has to offer – a series of violent, unpleasant incidents. The film lacks any basic sense of humanity, like The Godfather had. None of the characters are relatable. None of the characters are remorseful. And the film lacks any sense of elegance or grace. That may seem an odd complaint for a Mafia movie, but compare it to Taxi Driver. Both films deal with violent, disturbing material, but Taxi Driver uses violence sparingly, and does have a certain elegance about it. Goodfellas is just coarse, and in the end Scorsese relies too heavily on gratuitous violence to make his point – and there doesn’t seem to be much of a point anyway.

I will probably sound like a hypocrite for praising The Departed, because it suffers from many of the same flaws as Goodfellas – overlength, excessive violence, an over-reliance on four-letter words. But I found The Departed totally gripping from its first frame. The film begins with a narration by Irish mob boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), who declares, “I don’t want to be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.” In an opening prologue set to the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter,” Scorsese masterfully sets the scene, depicting Costello’s game – bribing kids off the streets of Boston, pulling them away from the Church and indoctrinating them into his mob. Flash forward many years later, and one such mobster, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) has become a mole in the Special Investigations Unit of the Massachusetts State Police. At the same time, the SIU sends its own mole, Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) into Costello’s gang. Of course, both sides soon become aware of an intruder, and a bloody cat-and-mouse game ensues.

As I mentioned earlier, The Departed is essentially a genre film, a basic crime story– Scorsese isn’t really experimenting here, he’s playing it safe with familiar material. But what a crime movie it is! The whole film crackles along at a galloping pace, propelled by strong performances. Part of the joy of watching The Departed is to see the giants of 70s cinema – actors like Jack Nicholson and Martin Sheen – matched with some of the most talented actors of today, like DiCaprio, Damon, and Mark Wahlberg. The cast is uniformly solid, particularly Nicholson, who is a genuinely frightening presence. The film also has a tremendous sense of location, making full use of its Boston setting. I was skeptical about The Departed – despite its Best Picture win, I had heard criticisms that it was excessively violent, warmed-over Scorsese. Yet all of these criticisms were trampled by the film’s narrative drive, and the sheer talent of all the players involved.

Taxi Driver: B+
GoodFellas: B
The Departed: A-

Apocalypse Now Redux (2001)

Rarely have I been left so utterly speechless at the end of a film than after I finished watching Apocalypse Now Redux. After sitting through Francis Ford Coppola's 3 1/2 hour recut of his 1979 Vietnam epic, I was shocked, terrified, moved, entertained, intellectually stimulated, and speechless. I knew that I had witnessed something extraordinary, but I did not quite know what to make of it. Of course, it is easy to appreciate the technical mastery of the early scenes, with their splendidly choreographed helicopter fights, luscious cinematography, and startling use of sound; the sheer size of the production is incredible. But what to make of the final scenes, in which the protagonist Capt. Willard finally comes face-to-face with the apparently insane Col. Kurtz, who is worshipped like a god in the middle of the Cambodian jungle? This portion of the film is heady and strange, yet there was something undeniably fascinating about it. At the film's end, though not fully understanding the ending, I nonetheless remained convinced that Apocalypse Now was a staggering work of art by one of America's greatest directors.

Apocalypse Now Redux opens with a powerful montage in which Capt. Willard (Martin Sheen) lies in a drunken stupor in his Saigon hotel room, waiting for a new mission. Soon enough, Willard is ordered to sail up the Nung River to Cambodia to find Colonel Walter E. Kurtz (Marlon Brando), a once-promising soldier who has allegedly gone insane and betrayed the army. Willard's task is to terminate the Colonel's command - "with extreme prejudice." Willard is joined by four other men, and the film tracks their journey upriver to find Kurtz's compound.

Ambitious does not begin to describe Apocalypse Now. The production woes of the film are legendary - Sheen had a heart attack, Brando showed up unprepared and overweight, extreme weather destroyed sets, and principal production ended up taking 238 days to complete. To watch the film is to marvel that Coppola managed to pull it off. The air strike sequence, in which the maniacal Col. Kilgore (Robert Duvall) attacks a Vietnamese village to the tune of “Ride of the Valkyries,” is simply extraordinary. We see the point of view of the helicopters, as they swoop through schoolyards and blow up buildings with missiles, while the villagers scatter. The sheer logistics of directing such a scene, especially in the pre-digital age, are mind-boggling. It is simultaneously one of the most thrilling and disturbing battle sequences I have ever seen.

But the long river journey is the heart and center of Apocalypse Now. Willard’s team is filled with young and innocent soldiers, as Willard’s cynical narration tells us – “rock ‘n’ rollers with one foot in their graves.” There is the seventeen year old Clean (a young Lawrence Fishburne) from “some South Bronx shithole,” a Californian surfer named Lance (Sam Bottoms), the tightly wound “Chef” (Frederic Forrest), and the domineering Chief Phillips (Albert Hall). At first the journey seems almost pleasant – the men water ski, chat amicably, drink booze, and surf. But this feeling soon wears off as the journey continues. They are exposed to war atrocities, are attacked by a tiger, and in one tragic scene, accidentally kill a boatload of civilians. Several die along the way. The rest lose whatever faith in civilization they had.

When the survivors finally pull into Kurtz’s compound, they are greeted by a legion of native soldiers and a stoned American reporter (Dennis Hopper) who babbles on about how Kurtz is a “great man.” The camera passes over details like bloody staircases and decapitated heads without providing any explanation, thus leaving us to question who exactly this Kurtz is. The build-up here is effective, and it works on a parallel level, because of Brando’s reputation as a brilliant but difficult actor. When Kurtz finally appears, he is mired in shadow, a bald, cryptic old sage who cynically calls Willard “an errand boy, sent by grocery clerks, to collect the bill.” Brando is a frightening, mysterious, and powerful presence in his few scenes, and it is difficult to imagine any other actor playing the part so successfully.

It is in these final scenes that Apocalypse Now reveals its true ambitions. For all the impressive spectacle of its early scenes, Apocalypse Now remained a somewhat conventional war film. But in this final segment, Coppola dares to show us the darker side of human nature, and to reveal moral complexities. We begin to see Kurtz not as just a raving lunatic but as an ordinary man driven mad by the horrors of war. Yet Coppola offers no easy answers, particularly with an ambiguous ending that plays out like some ancient tribal ritual. This is a film that is meant to challenge, and so Coppola does, with the masterful spell that is Apocalypse Now.

Verdict: A+

Note: I have only seen the 2001 “Redux” version of Apocalypse Now, so all my views here are based on that version.

The Day The Earth Stood Still (2008)

Robert Wise's 1951 film The Day The Earth Stood Still is an acknowledged classic, a stirring sci-fi parable of Cold War paranoia. It was responsible for the creation of the iconic silver-steeled robot Gort, and the phrase "Klaatu barada nikto," one of the most recognizable quotes in movie history. Director Scott Derrickson's 2008 remake updates the story to the present day, and focuses on an environmental message. Needless to say, any remake faces quite high expectations from the original's legions of admirers. I must admit I feared the worst when I saw the trailer, which emphasized shots of massive computer-generated destruction more than the characters. Would the original's personal, human story be compromised for special effects? Well, the answer is yes...and no. There is a human element to the film, and talented actors like Jennifer Connelly and Kathy Bates give the film some weight. But in the end The Day The Earth Stood Still turns into a rather predictable - and boring - sci-fi disaster movie.

Jennifer Connelly is Helen Benson, an esteemed scientist who is part of a team called in to investigate an alien aircraft that is about to land in Manhattan. It arrives in Central Park in the form of a giant luminous sphere, and out comes a massive metallic robot, and an alien named Klaatu. GORT, as he is so nicknamed by the military, is detained, while Klaatu is taken to a hospital where he sheds his alien outer layer to become, well, Keanu Reeves. Although he asks to speak to the United Nations, Klaatu's request is denied. He eventually escapes, along with Helen and her stepson Jacob (Jaden Smith), and they spend the rest of the film on the run from the military. Soon, Klaatu's message becomes clear: his race will exterminate the humans to preserve the planet's capacity for sustaining life.

The cast of The Day The Earth Stood Still deserves far better than the film's script gives them. Jennifer Connelly's leading lady looks have served her well in movies like Dark City and Hulk, but she is above all an extremely talented actress. Her role in The Day The Earth Stood Still is surprisingly unglamorous - her Helen is a weary widow striving to make ends meet, and I believed every minute of it. Kathy Bates and John Cleese also show up - Cleese is mostly wasted in a cameo as a Nobel Prize winning scientist, but Bates gives an entertaining performance as a very commanding Secretary of Defense. As for Reeves, the best I can say is that he doesn't embarrass himself - most of the time. The performance calls for being emotionless, and to that extent Reeves succeeds. But not surprisingly, it is quite a dull performance.

The film is technically well-made - visually appealing, with a few outstanding setpieces. The first sequence, set in 1928, is intriguing and mysterious and captured my attention immediately. I was also impressed with the first arrival of the sphere in New York - a faithful, atmospheric recreation of the scene from the 1951 film. But the filmmakers don't know how to handle Gort, perhaps the most memorable character from the original. In the original, he was played by a man in a suit; in the remake he is a Godzilla-sized, computer-generated creation. The effect is not convincing, and the scenes with Gort are often unintentionally laughable - as are the military attack scenes, which interrupt the storyline and seem to belong in another film entirely.

Still, I must respect the film for keeping the main focus on the characters, as the 1951 version did. They may not be the most interesting characters - Jacob, Helen's stepson, is a particularly contrived and annoying character - but the cast does their best with the material. Only in the last half-hour or so does the film lose the human focus, as the director indulges in special effects extravaganzas showing buildings and stadiums being destroyed.

And then there is the message. I have no problem with an environmental message - my favorite film of 2008, Wall-E, had a strong environmental message but displayed it in an intelligent and elegant manner. In contrast, the message of The Day The Earth Stood Still is cumbersome to the story as well as being downright silly. The 1951 film was very humanistic, calling for an end to war and violence. The 2008 version seems to suggest that if we compromise the existence of other species on the planet, we deserve to die. I also find some hypocrisy in a movie that advocates environmental awareness but has blatant product placement for McDonalds.

The Day The Earth Stood Still is a competent but misguided remake of a classic. Despite the efforts of an able cast, and a few memorable sequences, the film ultimately falls on its face, with a preachy message and far too much emphasis on action. It is not a terrible film by any means, and might stand up better if not compared to the original. But any remake has to be compared to the original, and there really is no comparison. The main problem plaguing this version of The Day The Earth Stood Still is that it has no earthly reason to exist.

Verdict: B -

Quantum of Solace (2008)

Soon after Die Another Day, the 20th installment in the James Bond series, was released in 2002, it was widely ridiculed for crossing the line into self-parody. The villain created an orbiting ice palace to harness solar energy. 007 drove around in an invisible car, and sailed down a raging river standing on an ice block. Quantum of Solace, the second Bond film starring Daniel Craig as 007, faces almost the opposite problem. The movie tries to be so grim, gritty, and realistic that it just comes across as dull and lifeless.

The story picks up almost immediately after the great Casino Royale, with Bond driving an injured Mr. White (Jesper Christensen) to headquarters for interrogation. Before escaping, Mr. White reveals something about a nefarious organization that "has people everywhere." Further investigation leads to the discovery of a group called QUANTUM, which is employing Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric) in an evil plot to overthrow Bolivia's government and drain its oil reserves. Or something like that.

But enough about the plot! This is a James Bond movie! How are the action scenes, you wonder. Fine, if you are a fan of the mile-a-minute, quick-cut, shaky camera action scenes that dominate the Bourne series. For those of us who do not enjoy nausea, however, Quantum's action scenes are quite irritating. Perhaps I am being unfair, though. In the Bourne films, the quick editing and shaky camera techniques contribute to the suspense, and the viewer at least has some idea of what is going on. The same cannot be said for the car chase that opens this film. Rather than getting my blood pumping, it left me sitting there waiting for the damn thing to end.

Yet when we are not being hammered by incomprehensible action scenes, the movie bores us with unnecessary exposition. The plot was really not interesting enough to hold my attention, and after a certain point I found myself tuning out. The main villain, Dominic Greene, is played by the terrific French actor Mathieu Amalric, but his character is bland and uninteresting. And yes, M (Judi Dench) and Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) were likable enough characters in Casino Royale, but they are given far too much screen time here.

The Bond girls fare slightly better. There are two - one a well-developed main character and the other one of Bond's quick flings. Olga Kurylenko plays Camille, the main female sidekick. Like Bond, she too is out for revenge for the death of a loved one. Kurylenko does well with the material given to her, but I can't pretend that her character is very memorable. Agent Fields (Gemma Arteron) is an entirely different beast. Her character's fashion and hairstyle are clearly throwbacks to the Bond girls of the 60s era. Although she does not have very much screen time, Arteron injects some humor and spirit into a movie that is desperately lacking in those departments.

But the main problem with Quantum of Solace is that there is nothing memorable about it. I struggle to think of a single sequence that is a standout. Director Marc Forster has said that his favorite scene comes during an opera performance, when the action cuts back and forth between the violence on stage and the violence that Bond is wreaking. But the scene struck me as a failed attempt at artsiness. The parallels that are being drawn are unclear, and the whole sequence feels out of place - like a pedestrian attempt at the montages that close the Godfather films.

So what impression does Quantum of Solace make? Not much of one, I'm afraid. I found it instantly forgettable, an endless string of uninspired action scenes. Casino Royale is the superior film in every way - its action sequences are at once more memorable, more exciting, and more comprehensible. And its story actually had a heart, and took time to develop characters. The same cannot be said for the sequel. Forgive the obvious pun, but Quantum of Solace left me feeling more shaken than stirred.

Verdict: C

Persepolis (2007)

Persepolis is nothing if not ambitious. It almost defies labeling, because it is such a unique creature. It walks a thin line between comedy and drama. It is an animated film and contains flights of fantasy, but its characters and story are rooted firmly in reality. It is in some ways "artsy", with its stylistic animation and its mature storyline, but it always feels accessible. What is perhaps most surprising about the film, then, is that all of these elements come together and the film works beautifully. 

Persepolis, based on a series of graphic novels, is a semi-autobiographical story about Marjane Satrapi, an Iranian woman who grows up during the late 70s and early 80s, a very turbulent time for Iran. She is witness to the revolt against the Shah regime, wars with Iraq, and other conflicts. At home and abroad, Marjane struggles with her Iranian identity, depression, an increasingly restrictive society, and of course love over the course of the film.

The animation of Persepolis is quite striking. The vast majority of the film is composed of hand-drawn* black and white animation. Although studios like Pixar deliver some fine computer-generated animation, it is refreshing to see a more traditional approach inPersepolis. The animation is particularly inspired during the historical interludes, in which rulers are portrayed as puppets being manipulated on a stage. But other images remained in my head. Long lines of soldiers shoot at each other across a ditch and then fall in, as the bodies pile up. Marjane and her boyfriend fly through the city in their car. Waves in the ocean are seen as massive swirls that gently bob up and down. 

But perhaps the most compelling reason to watch Persepolis is simply its story. The film's characters are fully rounded, and the humanity of the story is compelling. Marjane's tale is essentially a coming-of-age story, but it never dissolves into cliché. Marjane's relationship with her grandmother, her disenchantment with the superficiality of European society, and her struggles with love all feel like the genuine conflicts of a real person. I fear, though, that I am making Persepolis sound too serious. The truth is that Persepolis finds great humor in Marjane's story. In one of my favorite scenes, an adolescent Marjane walks down a street in Iran past a line of shady looking men with trenchcoats, whom look like they could be drug dealers. But no, they are merely selling lipstick, nail polish, and Stevie Wonder CDs. In another scene, Marjane struts down the street, singing "Eye of the Tiger." 

Persepolis succeeds not only as an animated movie but as a great film in itself. The film combines a compelling storyline with a striking visual style and is truly a must-see.

Verdict: A

*Note: I said the animation was hand-drawn, but it was most likely created and edited on a computer. Still, it looks hand-drawn, and the point still stands that it looks very different than anything the American animation studios are producing.