will she ever stop talking?

There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
creeps in this petty pace from day to day
to the last syllable of recorded time,
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

about being recognized

A lot of super hero movies have hit the screens in the last 12 years or so. Most of these super hero actors will be defined by these roles from here on out, especially among younger generations, and the actors will probably never be in a film that sells more tickets.

something about the movie "Gravity"

The film "Gravity" offers a movie-going experience. Yes, the visuals stun and inspire. But it's more than beauty that makes us submit. The story is simple but the action engrossing; and the protagonist is uncomplicated--a supple mirror in which we replace the image with ourselves. So we fret and ease along with her as the film creates the illusion of time alternately speeding up and then crawling; it does so with the sounds of breathing, of heartbeats, of blinking lights, watches, and faceless monitors that beep out the pace, switching from measured rhythms to urgent, pleading buzzes. And when we finally reach the moment when we can pause and consider all that just happened, we're left with a sense of wonder--not just of the vastness of the universe, but the resilience of the human spirit. Now, this human spirit stuff is a sort of hackneyed theme and an easy payoff for the writers but it works okay here.


Notes:

• Highly recommend seeing this in 3D.
• In an academic setting, one could argue that this movie conveys Heideggerian themes. 
• This does not say anything to spoil.

about Baz Luhrmann's film, "The Great Gatsby"

Seated in the theater tipping back Baz Luhrmann's "The Great Gatsby", you're hyperaware that what you're seeing is a theatrical production: super-sized CGI-powered stage props and back drops. This isn't a period piece depicting the Jazz Age so much as it is an indulgence of the Jazz Age of our imaginations. And, in a way, this is perfect; this is an ode to Gatsby, a man who has built his own life with stage sets born of his imagination.

The Great Gatsby--the movie and the man--is a big show.

But the film pays a cost here because The Great Gatsby the novel is also a story--a story with moments of candid intimacy, bared feelings, and things revealed. So the problem is, when those genuine moments come, the film can't stop putting on a show.

This film can't be the book. Maybe it didn't have to. Too bad it tried.


Notes:

• Even with this flaw (and it's not the only big flaw), I enjoyed the film a great deal.

• Going in, I estimated Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey Maguire should have switched roles; I traditionally think of DiCaprio as having an edge and Maguire as the more vulnerable and charming. But I was very wrong: DiCaprio is nearly flawless--everyone is.

something about the movie "Lincoln"

"Lincoln" focuses on the President's efforts to pass the Thirteenth Amendment while negotiating the end of the Civil War. A superb Daniel Day-Lewis evokes a gifted but earthen man veiled in melancholy, defending the bloody and nightmarish warring to save the Union, the Emancipation Proclamation, and his push to eradicate slavery via the Constitution immediately, while the battle still rages. All of the supporting players more than hold their own--Sally Field included.

In all that's already been written about this film, only one point could still be made: this entry from The New Yorker--one of a couple excellent comments on the film found there--claims

It can’t be said too often, or too clearly, that the whole point of Lincoln is that he—and the Republican Party he then represented—marked the end of the policy of conciliation and compromise and cosseting that had been the general approach of Northern Presidents to the Southern slavery problem throughout the decades before. When the South seceded, Lincoln chose war—an all-out, brutal, bitter war of a kind that had never been fought until then.

According to the film, Lincoln felt the 13th Amendment was a compromise. Had they not compromised, the radical faction of the Republican Party (and their abolitionist constituents) would have enfranchised black men immediately, given them the vote, legalized interracial marriage, etc. A huge portion of the film is dedicated to Lincoln's pissing off those radicals. (But this "compromise" means little when it obliterates an entire region's economic way of life, which is probably The New Yorker writer's point.)

a thing about the movie "Flight" (with spoilers)

Flight follows William "Whip" Whitaker, a crackerjack airline pilot struggling to admit to his alcohol and drug addictions in the aftermath of a plane crash. Part of the immediate dilemma for the audience and for Whitaker is that (1) the crash resulted from hardware failures, not pilot error, and (2) no other pilot could have negotiated the crash landing with as much skill, and saved as many passengers' lives as he did, sober or otherwise.

The film is about one man's struggle for redemption, but what we see from our theater seat is a struggle for control of truth. In Whitaker's mind, his functionality, his brilliance excuses the behavior that so many rush to judge irresponsible. That is his truth. But under threat of litigation and penalty for the lives lost, the airline and Whitaker's other adversaries use the discourse of medical knowledge, appealing to that discipline's knowledge-making authority, which justifies policies that were violated, and deems Whitaker unfit. The co-pilot, who chooses not to reveal Whitaker's drunkenness on record, appeals to the Word of God; God reveals the Truth, and Whitaker must face that truth.

Finally, after a slew of verbal confrontations, Whitaker is faced with the most intimidating of rhetorical situations--a hearing by the National Transportation Safety Board, an independent Federal agency "charged by Congress with investigating every civil aviation accident in the United States". Here, Whitaker surrenders control of the truth. He cannot speak another lie, he says. Whitaker's truth goes from belief in himself with a confident rejection of medico-juridical labels to, ultimately, the discourse of confession. He adopts the narratives spun about him by others, and finds himself now a craven denier of truth, and no longer a hero airline pilot.

Notes

• This was a fantastic movie. Every performance is spot on; Whitaker is played to perfection by Denzel Washington, and even John Goodman's over-the-top dealer works well, providing relief from the main character's ongoing struggles and tension. And Wikipedia notes, "Flight is (Robert) Zemeckis' first live-action film since 2000's Cast Away and What Lies Beneath, and his first R-rated film since Used Cars in 1980."

• Above, quoting the NTSB's Web site regarding the agency's purpose.

Angry Chair

Having watched both the (American) Democratic and Republican conventions a little each night, I found Clint Eastwood's improvised moment with the empty chair during the Republican convention to be the most compelling and meaningful part of the whole charade. But the pundits and critics, who claim to be ready for something authentic and substantive, finally got something that was just that, and they immediately rejected it.

Eastwood said he had cried when Obama was elected (presumably because it was such a powerful moment for a nation with a long history of racism). I take him at his word, and believe he was moved like so many others that night. So what was this moment with the chair all about?

Here's what: The chair was empty, signifying an absence, and speaking silence. This prompts the audience to wonder, Where is the Barack Obama I voted for? Because I don't see him anywhere.

Eastwood begins a sort of pitiful dialog with the missing Obama. He is attempting to recreate a ghost, the faded remains of the projection of his own hopes and dreams from four years ago: "So, Mr. President, how do you handle promises that you have made when you were running for election, and how do you handle them? I mean, what do you say to people? Do you just, you know--I know people were wondering. You don't handle that. OK."

Soon the projection lashes out, judging by Eastwood's reactions: "But, I thought maybe as an excuse--what do you mean shut up?" Here, the projection has taken on a life of its own, and is no longer merely a canvas. The candidate Obama from 2008 is no longer a willing, cooperative partner in this game of imagination. The exercise dissolves, leading Eastwood to his moment of resignation: "And I think it's that time. And I think if you just step aside and Mr. Romney can kind of take over."

Eastwood is hardly a champion for Romney, though: "A stellar businessman. Quote, unquote, a stellar businessman." His talking points covered, sarcastically. Finally, in a turn away from the chair to the listening audience, Eastwood delivers his real message, one of disappointment and disillusion with the whole process: "And, so, they (the candidates) are just going to come around and beg for votes every few years. It is the same old deal." And then, "We don't have to be--what I'm saying, we do not have to be metal masochists and vote for somebody that we don't really even want in office just because they seem to be nice guys or maybe not so nice guys ... "

It's a shame the whole exchange was written off as crazy talk by a misguided old man. Eastwood attempted to inject a moment of truth and sincerity into an obscene display of delusion and dishonesty, but instead he was rejected and held up as proof that the rest of the display is coherent and the system works.

Notes:

• Eastwood badly misread or misunderstood his audience, who they were, and where they were coming from. He may have been misguided in several other ways, too, arguably, but his main point stands.
• His means of communicating was a little unorthodox, so for this reason, too, he was rejected.

About the film "Wings of Desire"

This Wim Wenders directed film follows a spirit who's tired of the spiritual and yearns for physical existence. The spirit is an angel named Damiel, and his journeys with his companion, Cassiel, expose the isolation inherent in the human condition. But, moreover, Damiel's particular existential crisis gently urges us to appreciate the little things and decide for ourselves that life matters.

The angels can hear people's thoughts, so thinking makes up most of the film's dialog. I enjoyed Cassiel's going to the library where he finds other angels listening to books being narrated in people's minds as they read. There he finds an old man whom he follows, is drawn to perhaps because the aged traveler is so enduring and purposeful, who self-identifies as a storyteller, an indispensable part of humanity.

Meanwhile, Damiel wanders into a low-budget children's circus whose star performer is a beautiful, unfulfilled trapeze artist named Marion. He falls for her, lusts for her, and is spellbound by her poetically lonely train of thought. They share a yearning.

Damiel brings Cassiel to that night's circus performance, which is to be the last of the year. But as Damiel absorbs the show, Cassiel sees how deeply his companion feels the need to live. Afterwards Damiel confesses as much. Marion, while celebrating at the circus staff's after-party, pauses and, in her thoughts, appreciates being alive. Hearing this, Damiel's heart breaks.

So he resolves to become real, and when an empty piece of body armor crashes onto his head, Damiel wakes in a vacant lot, apparently knocked unconscious after being dropped from Heaven--a helicopter hovering overhead. To be human is to be vulnerable, so he pawns his rickety old armor and finds Marion at a night club. There, they each taste of the wine from the bar and she asks him to join her in a life of consequence, to live as if they are setting new precedents for future generations.

The story inverts the usual paradigm: instead of man imagining and chronicling heaven as the grand but remote paradise, the angels imagine and chronicle man as the simple and immediate body, and they do so in ways that elevate man without pretending he’s a miracle. This inversion is sacrilegious, but it does no harm.

The viewing audience watches the angels watch the people. When a scene calls for your sympathy and you feel that sympathy, you feel the sympathy of the angels, you see Earth through the angels’ eyes. For example, in one scene we peek in on a small family and find a young man alone in his bedroom, sulking and brooding over how nobody knows he’s alive, but then we learn his dad is sitting alone in front of the TV and worrying about his son’s future while mom sits alone in the kitchen doing the same.

Notes

• Peter Falk of course is really charming in this, single-handedly keeping a good chunk of the film interesting. ("Columbo" is one of the best series ever.)
• Cassiel urges someone to his shoes correctly--using a double knot.

About "The Kids in the Hall" TV show

Re-watching this series, I'm reminded it wasn't that funny. But the show's not-being-funny is an acceptable risk--acceptable because its value for me lie in its ethos. "The Kids in the Hall" cast consisted of comedic performers more so than comedy actors; they were creatives rather than laugh-getters, and their schtick was absurdity. Any given sketch might (1) focus on the orthodoxy of their having to have a premise or be funny or be likeable or act famous, (2) have no premise and instead start in the middle of a scene, or (3) be a monologue. "The Kids in the Hall" was more like "Monty Python" than "Saturday Night Live", but shared properties of both, combining them and re-interpreting them as something pretty unique. Some credit for the show's willingness to take risks belongs undoubtedly to Lorne Michaels. But despite this, it doesn't make for a lot of entertaining television.

Notes

• I can only watch in very small doses.

About "I Love Lucy"

I have never been able to watch more than four minutes of "I Love Lucy" and I think this is why: the show never tells a story; instead, Lucy puts on a show. This inevitably leads to her acting out, hamming it up, taking the production over the top. There is no arch, no moral, no lesson learning; there is no character development, no growth in the show, its production or its talents. There is nobody to sympathize with or relate to. All you see is a comedienne trying to meet expectations or out-do herself comically with exaggerated crying and bumbling, facing the camera all the while.

All this is to state the obvious: that how you feel about the show hinges on taste, one's expectation and preference. If Lucy isn't funny, she's just pulling gags.

Notes:

• Television was still young.
• This means nothing.

Something about the fim "Invincible"

This Werner Herzog-directed film tells the true-ish fable of Zishe Breitbart, a Jewish strongman who performed for Berlin audiences circa 1932 before returning to his Polish Jewish village to warn of the growing Nazi menace. The plot: after his strength is noticed by a talent agent, Breitbart journeys from a humble blacksmith's son to brief stardom as a sideshow in a successful clairvoyant's act that caters to Nazi-friendly audiences. The clairvoyant is Hanussen, an intense showman who claims mystical powers.

The film makes a motif of identity. Breitbart briefly loses himself, allowing Hanussen to "Aryan-ize" him to best appeal to the Berlin audience. After briefly reconnecting with family, Breitbart publicly rejects his fictional identity, revealing himself as Jewish. Breitbart's strength--originally imagined by Hanussen as a draw to the humiliated, identity-less German people, remains in the show as a draw for threatened Berlin Jews.

Hanussen is revealed as a con-man. Though born Jewish, he has adopted a series of identities through his life in pursuit of status and power. By trying to ingratiate himself with the rising Nazis menace, he has become the very caricature of the stereotypical Jew--sneaky, dishonest, and money hungry.

I enjoyed this. The acting is mostly terrible except for Hanussen, played by a reliably intense Tim Roth.

About "Rampart"

Woody Harrelson exudes simmering, desperate rage as David Brown, a formidably intelligent but sparsely controlled bad cop living and working and risking and cratering in 1999. Our window into this volatile character's folding life rattles in the wake of the abuse and corruption scandals that shook the real LAPD at the time. When not in pursuit, Brown is at the ready because he knows he and conflict are joined at the hip. He welcomes it, he's a risk-taker. But when he unravels and we see him cracking and haunted, it's still tragic.

Notes:

• Woody Harrelson is why I saw this.
• I saw "Rampart" and "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" the same day. Both these movies show an investigation, a quest for the truth. Both have characters whose quest arises from suspicion, and whose suspicions cause others to doubt the sanity of the quest.

About "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy"

As most reviews mention, "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" is a bit hard to follow. You may not miss anything, but you will feel like you did. No matter. The confusion is kept within a single episode near the end. Otherwise, events makes sense.

Circa 1970, the reputation of British Intelligence is in decline. Now rumor circulates that one of the inner circle of agents is a mole. To find the mole, the British Government employs Smiley (Gary Oldman), the retired former right-hand man of the recently passed intelligence director. Smiley proceeds quietly, always thinking, his inner life never stirring the calm of his waters. In one brief scene at the climax, Smiley coolly takes out and lights his cigarette, capturing in a moment the staid bearing with which he's managed this whole affair.

All the actors nailed their performances and made for great characters; the sets and costumes and makeup were flawless; and the cinematography and direction supplied ample polish. I only wish (1) the screenwriters had been more careful (or the producers more patient) and (2) the film had a few more extended scenes.

Rue McClanahan's autobiography "My First Five Husbands ... And the Ones Who Got Away"

Although she spent much of her career on the theater stage, sitcom acting earned Rue McClanahan the most fame, having played Vivian on "Maude" and Blanche on "The Golden Girls". Her autobiography is like a chronology of lovers--she had a panicky need for male companionship likely brought on by her distant father. But hers is not a tale of dysfunction or sadness; instead she admits to only a few recurring mistakes within in a lifetime happiness. She ends with this:

Even as a child I had the strong feeling that life was good. I had a passion for work, an openness to love, and a penchant for joy. In a word, I had hope. 

I still have it.

The prose is light and bubbly, probably true to McClanahan's personality. The woman herself sounds like her trademark character, Blanche--slept around a lot but had a strong independent streak and beamed positivity, charming those in her company. But, the story goes, she succeeded purely on her acting chops.

I expected more gossip about television actors, but she offers almost none aside from acknowledging that Estelle Getty was not very good and Bea Arthur was an intimidating personality prone to dispensing harsh judgements. Although published in 2006, just four years before her death at age 76, the book isn't some old worldly woman's book of truisms. Mostly she cautions readers about marriage, lamenting that love alone isn't enough. Despite that minor key note, the book is a fast, fresh read.

Something on the movie "Stone"

"Stone" opens on a domestic scene circa 1963: a young husband sits on the couch. His wallflower wife brings him a beer. After some hand-wringing, she says she's leaving him. He bolts upstairs, grabs their baby daughter and dangles her out the open bedroom window of their two-story home. He threatens to drop the child if the wife abandons him. She concedes, agrees to stay. The scene ends with the baby safely back in her crib, the wife slamming the window shut, killing a buzzing housefly. Silence.

The young man is now Jack Mabry (Robert DeNiro), a stern, privately devout parole officer wrapping up his career. His last case is Gerald Creeson, aka "Stone" (Edward Norton), a fidgety loser locked up for arson. Intent on securing his release from prison, Stone and his wife Lucetta (Milla Jovovich) start to work on Jack, intent on corrupting him through very welcome relations with Lucetta. The film traces this psychologically twisted triangle.

In the time before what he hopes will be his final hearing, Stone discovers and embraces a spiritual theory of redemption: one must become aware of his depravity, of all that surrounds him, and open himself to the possibility of redemption. The moment you're first aware comes inconspicuously; it may come, for example, when you first notice a small sound, maybe a breeze or buzzing insect. The film ends somewhat ambiguously, but the redemption theory provides a framework for interpreting each character's fate.

Edward Norton, Milla Jovavich, and Robert DeNiro give three fantastic performances.

A thing on the film Lars and the Real Girl

Socializing hurts Lars, but through a co-worker he learns of a website that sells life-like sex dolls, so he orders one and, upon her arrival, makes her his girlfriend. To him, she poses no threat. She can be his creation, and from her he creates a saintly Brazilian missionary immigrant named Bianca who, being wheelchair-bound and having a limited understanding of English, is completely dependent upon him.

But soon other townsfolk co-opt his creation, and they make Bianca more dynamic, resourceful, and, eventually, independent. Lars originally used Bianca to approximate intimacy; with her he could relate to the world the way he wanted to be related to--with patience and sensitivity, without possibility of rejection. But suddenly realizing he is no longer Bianca's only connection to this world, thereby feeling rejected, Lars defiantly sets out building connections of his own by going out with a young lady he works with. From there, we put Lars on the road to deliverance from the prison of his inhibitions.

The movie feels sweet, but underneath is a careful power struggle between Lars and the town. Lars' truth is dubbed a delusion, and soon others' truths are being imposed from all sides until Lars, having lost control of his creation, announces that Bianca has died--a final and dramatic act of self empowerment. What is it exactly that either pushes or inspires Lars to change, to conform to the town's normalizing desire for him to be more social?

Broken Flowers

In the film "Broken Flowers", Bill Murray plays Don Johnston. I'd guess that Murray's motivation when he plays Don is that he has no motivation at all. The woman leaving him in the film's opening describes Don as an over-the-hill Don Juan, but what's so Don Juan about him, we can't tell. Rather than impassioned and hungry, this aging man is listless and indifferent.

The stoical plot of "Broken Flowers" begins when an anonymous letter informs Don that he has a 19 year-old son who may be looking for him. This revelation leads Don's amateur sleuth neighbor to map out a quest to identify the mother. So Don reluctantly accepts this mission. On his road trip, Don reunites briefly with four women who may have sent the letter. They are his unknowing suspects; Don is their detached inquisitor. These women all respond differently: The first with familiar affection, the next with frigid nervousness, another with distanced suspicion, and the last with outward aggression. None of these encounters leads Don to identify the mother. But once back again in his home town, Don spots a young man loitering first at the bus station, then outside the diner where Don lunches. Don approaches the stranger for an impromptu sit down which ends with Don embarrassing himself and frightening off the apparently wrong young man. It may be that Don never chose to be a confirmed bachelor. It may be that he never chose anything at all. He simply stopped developing but kept being. When the film ends, we can wonder if Don has been stirred again, or we might think this fruitless search has only affirmed his negation. But wait--a strange happening just before the credits only deepens the uncertainty.

Other interpretations: (1) The amateur sleuth neighbor represents the seeker; he is one who searches for Truth. Don is the skeptic, a slightly cynical denier of Truth. But, when Don is faced with the possibility of Truth he reaches out to take hold of it, wanting. But what does it mean that Truth evades him? (2) Another interpretation (my preference): The amateur sleuth neighbor represents the person compelled to exercise power, to subject the world to his gaze and prescribe truths, thereby creating knowledge he uses as he wishes. Don neither wishes to exercise power and refuses to have power exercised on him. When he takes up the quest for power and knowledge, he finds nothing but a stretch of time that is uninterpretable and not to be used for the purposes of meaning, knowledge, and power.

"Broken Flowers" is a good film, if a little flat in its pacing. Bill Murray, of course, awards even this static character with soul.

Reeves, K.

Some claim Keannu Reeves can't act. I disagree. I propose that his supposed lack of range has as much or more to do with the roles he has played rather than his abilities as an actor. We remember three of his roles now.

First, rookie FBI agent Johnny Utah in 1991's "Point Break". Reeves plays Utah as serious, hyper-focused, a newbie who approaches work professionally and seeks professional respect. Professionalism for him means going by the book--the playbook, that is, because it turns out Utah played quarterback at Ohio State University. His brief moment in the spotlight gave him confidence. But he's not the boastful sort, having had his football career cut short by a knee injury. This injury humbled him, and he copes with the loss of status by throwing himself into his work. With his high-profile quarterbacking days behind him, the new thrill and freedom he finds with the Ex-Presidents gang revives in him the taste for a more glamorous life--a life like he once lived at OSU. So he falls hard for bandit life. I think Reeves conveys all this and more.

Second: Have you ever watched a little white mouse sniff around the inside of a snake cage? This mouse moves with a light but distinct sense of caution, although he doesn't quite understand why. This is exactly how Reeves plays Jonathan Harker, an English estate agent and soliciter assigned to Dracula's account in the 1992 film about the man, directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Agent Utah had none of the subdued fear that Reeves expresses as Harker, whose standoffishness hides sensitivity.

Third, consider Neo in "The Matrix". Here, I see Reeves for the first time playing a blank slate. This strategy allows the audience to project themselves onto his character, Neo. Before he is annointed Neo, we know Reeve's character as Thomas A. Anderson, a shift-working office nobody stuck in the colorless cubicle we call life. He's you and me: Bored and unfullfilled and hoping in his heart of hearts that he's better than average, an innocent victim waiting for a break in the monotony. We want to play a part in the revolution against meaninglessness and slavery; feeling the present one inadequate, we pine for a real life. A real and authentic life. We see our own possibility in Neo just as children see theirs in Alice and see a world of Wonder and Truth on the other side of the looking glass, see it down the rabbit hole.

Keannu acts. I don't know his range, but I believe right now that during his rise to stardom his work was underappreciated.