First, we have an announcement to make…
The next few movies we write about will be ones that are dear to us and conjure up romance in honor of our Wedding Anniversary which we plan to celebrate all weekend :).
So here’s the first – Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery. Those who know me may be surprised to know that this is really my favorite Woody Allen movie. Or maybe that’s not so surprising – you tell me. While the critics actually liked it, it is not a “critic’s favorite” among Allen’s work, nor was it commercially successful, nor is it the intellectual feast that is The Purple Rose of Cairo (an Accidental Critic Classic). Maybe this is my favorite Woody Allen film simply because it portrays Woody Allen’s best side if not the best of his work.
The movie features Allen’s ultimate love and greatest character, Manhattan. In it we meet a middle-aged Manhattanite couple living in a high rise apartment. Comedy ensues when Carol (played by Diane Keaton) starts to suspect an elderly neighbor of murdering his wife. Carol’s husband (played by Allen) ends up joining in her amateur sleuthing to keep his marriage alive. What follows is really just a light-hearted series of events that swirl around a true mystery in an old fashioned whodunit style. In the end, our Manhattanites find a bit of spontaneity and adventure to rekindle their romance. No gripping dialogue or tortured souls…though the movie does deliver one of my favorite movie lines ever – “I can’t listen to too much Vagner, it makes me want to conquer Poland.”
To me, this movie is simply the height of a good, entertaining movie that somehow manages to make you feel good (even with a murder lurking in the plot). And maybe that was not only Allen’s intent for his audience, but something he was trying to achieve for himself at the time. This movie was released in 1993 at the height of Allen’s divorce from Mia Farrow and the ensuing public drama and legal battle associated with his “child bride” (in fact, Keaton’s role was originally written for Farrow). In a recent interview, Allen talked about how movies for him have always been an escape, an oasis from the “terror of the universe”. This movie certainly offers that as it effortlessly transports you for a couple hours.
One interesting thing to note as you are enjoying this film is that it contains a small shout-out to Orson Wells in a scene where the characters face off in a “hall of mirrors” while an Orson Wells movie plays in the background. Wells’ movies contemplate evil while here Allen seems to be intent on not facing it directly.
Honestly, I don’t think this movie truly rose to the top for me until I watched it again this weekend, snuggled up with my husband (who really introduced me to Woody Allen films). There was a lovely sunset coming in through our big windows and Dr. Dan was lightly chiding me about how he could imagine me suddenly taking us on an amateur investigation (and of course he’s right). I guess I found the charm of the couple on the screen within the couple on the couch in a way that made me deeply smile and appreciate how romantic we have always been. Just a day before, we had celebrated our years of togetherness in a much more grand style with a local, professional photographer coming out to our farm and a romantic dinner. But for me, this moment of quiet reverie on the couch was the real deal, the real celebration of our life together. How he truly knows me (and loves me anyway)…how romantic he is (he has written me a love poem every year that we have been married) and how blessed I am to have a husband who truly cherishes me and has never taken me off of the pedestal he put me on when he asked me to be his wife. Just deeply knowing that I have always been his first choice is something that no amount of money or romantic displays can buy.
While I certainly hope that we never have the opportunity or need to embark on an amateur murder investigation, I can honestly say that there is no one I would rather sleuth with.
Showing posts with label Netflix DVD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Netflix DVD. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Angel Heart ****
“Angel Heart” is an Accidental Critic classic and possibly one of the best examples of film noir - certainly the best from the 80’s. Figuring out what is going on in the film is not easy (though once you do, the plot is simple), but more interestingly, the attempt has a way of being personally disturbing.
What material is scarier than the truths we choose to hide from ourselves? The movie explores this material and succeeds in delivering these dark thoughts brilliantly by using supernatural undertones that illuminate our deepest and darkest fears.
Our “hero”, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke), is a gentle private dick. He’s a nice guy. That he repeats the phrase “I’m from Brooklyn” (with just the right accent) as a way of explaining everything about him becomes just another lovable piece of his charm. You immediately develop a kind of liking for Harry Angel and you end up rooting for him - or at least you want him to stay out of trouble. But when he is hired by the mysterious Louis Cyphre (now say it fast, three times), played brilliantly by De Niro, to find “Johnny Favorite” a man who “owes” his client “a debt”, he begins a journey of self-discovery that he has been trying to avoid. We learn that Harry Angel is not who he claims to be, even as he desperately tries to convince himself during a riveting scene where he cries into the mirror “I know who I am! I know who I am!” No, Harry, apparently you do not...you’re not even close.
As the truth unfolds, we see Harry Angel existing between two worlds. The interplay between the truth about him and the reality of the world as he sees it is disconcerting. It is as if his inner life is far more truthful than the actual world in which he operates. He will do anything to hide the truth from himself and yet as the answer begins to reveal itself he finds that the truth has a gravity of its own. He is drawn, with horrifying fascination, to touch the shrouded figures that haunt him with the prospect of the real Harry Angel...
We don’t like to believe that those we like, trust, even love are not who we think they are, and may even be deeply rotten inside. When you think about it, it’s really a terrifying thought. Is it true that you never really know someone? Of course, we know ourselves, but what about self-deception? Don’t we also try to fool ourselves in so many ways? One could argue that in Harry Angel’s case, self-discovery is overrated. The bad choices he made early in life have irrevocably locked him into an existence where the “unexamined life” would have probably been his best bet.
Thankfully for most of us, the truth is not as horrifying as it is for Harry Angel, but it is just as irrevocable. No one can recreate the past, nor can they change the truth – no matter how desperately they try. Think of public figures of the day or anyone who, rather than be honest, attempts instead to twist and diminish the truth into something that allows them to maintain “control”. Of course, ultimately they only succeed in self-degradation, loss of control and loss of the respect of those who see through them.
Our “hero” tries to cheat fate and fails, but in the end he has enough self-respect to get into that descending elevator.
What material is scarier than the truths we choose to hide from ourselves? The movie explores this material and succeeds in delivering these dark thoughts brilliantly by using supernatural undertones that illuminate our deepest and darkest fears.
Our “hero”, Harry Angel (Mickey Rourke), is a gentle private dick. He’s a nice guy. That he repeats the phrase “I’m from Brooklyn” (with just the right accent) as a way of explaining everything about him becomes just another lovable piece of his charm. You immediately develop a kind of liking for Harry Angel and you end up rooting for him - or at least you want him to stay out of trouble. But when he is hired by the mysterious Louis Cyphre (now say it fast, three times), played brilliantly by De Niro, to find “Johnny Favorite” a man who “owes” his client “a debt”, he begins a journey of self-discovery that he has been trying to avoid. We learn that Harry Angel is not who he claims to be, even as he desperately tries to convince himself during a riveting scene where he cries into the mirror “I know who I am! I know who I am!” No, Harry, apparently you do not...you’re not even close.
As the truth unfolds, we see Harry Angel existing between two worlds. The interplay between the truth about him and the reality of the world as he sees it is disconcerting. It is as if his inner life is far more truthful than the actual world in which he operates. He will do anything to hide the truth from himself and yet as the answer begins to reveal itself he finds that the truth has a gravity of its own. He is drawn, with horrifying fascination, to touch the shrouded figures that haunt him with the prospect of the real Harry Angel...
We don’t like to believe that those we like, trust, even love are not who we think they are, and may even be deeply rotten inside. When you think about it, it’s really a terrifying thought. Is it true that you never really know someone? Of course, we know ourselves, but what about self-deception? Don’t we also try to fool ourselves in so many ways? One could argue that in Harry Angel’s case, self-discovery is overrated. The bad choices he made early in life have irrevocably locked him into an existence where the “unexamined life” would have probably been his best bet.
Thankfully for most of us, the truth is not as horrifying as it is for Harry Angel, but it is just as irrevocable. No one can recreate the past, nor can they change the truth – no matter how desperately they try. Think of public figures of the day or anyone who, rather than be honest, attempts instead to twist and diminish the truth into something that allows them to maintain “control”. Of course, ultimately they only succeed in self-degradation, loss of control and loss of the respect of those who see through them.
Our “hero” tries to cheat fate and fails, but in the end he has enough self-respect to get into that descending elevator.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly *
Well, it’s time for an Accidental Critic pan.
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” (Le Scaphandre et le papillon) is a French docudrama based on the real life story of Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby. Bauby suffered a stroke in 1995 that left him completely paralyzed and mute. Well, not completely paralyzed, he was able to author an autobiography which he dictated by blinking his left eye.
When the film was released in 2007 it garnered a good bit of praise. Julian Schnabel was nominated for the 2008 Best Director Oscar (and won the Golden Globe). The film has been described as “poignant”, “an ode to liberation”, a “sensitive exploration”…okay we’ll watch it already.
Hmmm…gotta say, we were not impressed. Should we have found the hero admirable or the women who loved him profound, thoughtful, or sensitive? Perhaps not. They were French, though. The situation is tragic, but is there a tragic hero? Does the hero learn to overcome his privations or does he just dwell in his memories and fantasies? Of course a docudrama doesn’t have to be only as good as the truth of its main characters and yet we couldn’t help but be disappointed by the film. As you are watching you keep waiting, thinking that something important is about to happen, and then it doesn’t.
If this is among the best that French film has to offer, it seems that the French are full of departure. With the deaths of Beaudrillard and Derrida, has the culture suffered its own neurological accident from which recovery is unlikely? Is French cinema, like the former editor of Elle, reduced to the wink?
We recently reviewed an older French film,“Diva” which upon recent viewing seemed a bit naive. But for many reasons it is still the more thoughtful film. At least there are some interesting ideas about beauty and about evil which deserve reflection.
Seen any good French movies lately?
“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” (Le Scaphandre et le papillon) is a French docudrama based on the real life story of Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby. Bauby suffered a stroke in 1995 that left him completely paralyzed and mute. Well, not completely paralyzed, he was able to author an autobiography which he dictated by blinking his left eye.
When the film was released in 2007 it garnered a good bit of praise. Julian Schnabel was nominated for the 2008 Best Director Oscar (and won the Golden Globe). The film has been described as “poignant”, “an ode to liberation”, a “sensitive exploration”…okay we’ll watch it already.
Hmmm…gotta say, we were not impressed. Should we have found the hero admirable or the women who loved him profound, thoughtful, or sensitive? Perhaps not. They were French, though. The situation is tragic, but is there a tragic hero? Does the hero learn to overcome his privations or does he just dwell in his memories and fantasies? Of course a docudrama doesn’t have to be only as good as the truth of its main characters and yet we couldn’t help but be disappointed by the film. As you are watching you keep waiting, thinking that something important is about to happen, and then it doesn’t.
If this is among the best that French film has to offer, it seems that the French are full of departure. With the deaths of Beaudrillard and Derrida, has the culture suffered its own neurological accident from which recovery is unlikely? Is French cinema, like the former editor of Elle, reduced to the wink?
We recently reviewed an older French film,“Diva” which upon recent viewing seemed a bit naive. But for many reasons it is still the more thoughtful film. At least there are some interesting ideas about beauty and about evil which deserve reflection.
Seen any good French movies lately?
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Order of Myths ****
I am a bit of a documentary junky - perhaps because I really do believe that the truth is often stranger than fiction. My husband tolerates the docs with me, but they aren’t his thing. This one, however, had us both somewhat transfixed.
“The Order of Myths” chronicles Mobile, Alabama’s Mardi Gras celebration. Dating back to the 1700’s this Mardi Gras celebration is the oldest in America (who knew?). While the event is the focus, this documentary explores the city itself, its people, its mystical societies, its race relations and its obsession with masks and Moon Pies.
While it starts out as “quirky” there is an eeriness about the deeply rooted racial tension, the secrecy of the mystical societies and the genuine reverence for the Mardi Gras “royalty” that sneaks up on you. The film covers the Mardi Gras events of 2007, but in many ways you feel as if you have been transported back to the deep South prior to WWI. Segregation is not only alive in Mobile it is “well” and being elaborately played out in the Mardi Gras celebration events which are run by two separate associations – white and black, each of which produces its own “King and Queen” of Mardi Gras.
But this isn’t a “political” documentary nor can mere “political correctness” make sense of the rich complexity of Mobile’s myths and the way they play out in its current culture. Let’s put it this way, if Robert Graves were to have a home in the deep South, this would be it. At one point in the film the head of the “white” association exclaims “we love our trees…I mean, we’re not Druids or anything, but we love our trees…” Indeed, the trees have grown so well they have uprooted the sidewalks. Progress itself seems uprooted in Mobile, while the roots of southern tradition grow wider and deeper through the community.
While Mobile may be home to the last vestiges of segregation, there is nothing “black and white” about this engrossing and thoughtful portrayal that leaves one wondering if the masks of carnival reveal masks worn year round.
“The Order of Myths” chronicles Mobile, Alabama’s Mardi Gras celebration. Dating back to the 1700’s this Mardi Gras celebration is the oldest in America (who knew?). While the event is the focus, this documentary explores the city itself, its people, its mystical societies, its race relations and its obsession with masks and Moon Pies.
While it starts out as “quirky” there is an eeriness about the deeply rooted racial tension, the secrecy of the mystical societies and the genuine reverence for the Mardi Gras “royalty” that sneaks up on you. The film covers the Mardi Gras events of 2007, but in many ways you feel as if you have been transported back to the deep South prior to WWI. Segregation is not only alive in Mobile it is “well” and being elaborately played out in the Mardi Gras celebration events which are run by two separate associations – white and black, each of which produces its own “King and Queen” of Mardi Gras.
But this isn’t a “political” documentary nor can mere “political correctness” make sense of the rich complexity of Mobile’s myths and the way they play out in its current culture. Let’s put it this way, if Robert Graves were to have a home in the deep South, this would be it. At one point in the film the head of the “white” association exclaims “we love our trees…I mean, we’re not Druids or anything, but we love our trees…” Indeed, the trees have grown so well they have uprooted the sidewalks. Progress itself seems uprooted in Mobile, while the roots of southern tradition grow wider and deeper through the community.
While Mobile may be home to the last vestiges of segregation, there is nothing “black and white” about this engrossing and thoughtful portrayal that leaves one wondering if the masks of carnival reveal masks worn year round.
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