The Intouchables
(2012)
Directed by Olivier
Nakache & Eric Toledano
* * ½
Based on a true story, Driss
(Omar Sy) is a streetwise young man living in a poor and cramped housing
project. To receive welfare benefits, he must have a paper signed stating he is
actively looking for work, which must contain signatures from prospective
employers proving this. One afternoon, he walks into the estate of the
quadriplegic Philippe (Francois Cluzet), an aristocrat who is looking for a
caregiver. Though Driss makes no secret of his lack of ambition, along with a
polar opposite in taste and lifestyle, this change in attitude is exactly what
Philippe wants – Driss is unexpectedly hired. Though it’s a tough transition at
first, the two learn many a thing from one-another and become extremely close.
Yeah, the movie is about as
formulaic and cliché as it sounds. Does that make it bad? Not necessarily, but
there is certainly something missing from the overall experience when you’re
able to call every single plot point before they actually get there. While
there’s really not much reason to watch The
Intouchables, I’m still glad I watched it. The two leads are both terrific
– Omar Sy, especially, who is so wonderfully likable. Francois Cluzet also hits
all the right notes, ensuring that his character doesn’t fall into a
melodramatic sob story. The moments these characters share are a joy to behold,
my favorite being when Driss has a lot of fun shaving Philippe’s beard off.
Yet while those little moments
are great, the overall movie is still too familiar, and I’m not sure whether to
recommend it or not. It exists purely as a crowd-pleaser, but I can’t fault it
too much for that: it’s never cynical and overly manipulative, which I greatly
appreciate. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, but it doesn’t become
insensitive either. It’s essentially the cinematic equivalent of candy – it’s
sweet and enjoyable, but the empty calories and lack of nutritional substance
will still leave you hungering for more. At the very least, it was a good 2
hours for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Letters from a
Dead Man (1986)
Directed by
Konstantin Lopushanskiy
* * * *
Whatever year it might be, who
cares anymore? It is some time in the future, but mankind is on its last
trembling legs: the world has been ravaged by all-out nuclear war. Now, under
martial law, the survivors must hunker down underground. To explore the world
above, they must don hazmat suits. Necessities for survival such as medicine
are traded on the black market. Dr. Larsen (Rolan Bykov), a Nobel-winning
physicist, lives underneath the ruins of a museum with a collective of fellow
intellectual colleagues. They wander in circles (figuratively and literally), always
reporting back on nuclear crisis and theorizing what they should do next. In
between letters he is writing to his son in another Bunker, Dr. Larsen is doing
everything in his power to care for his ailing wife, but it seems that the
gifts of science he is so knowledgeable in are bringing no benefit to her, and
her time is running very short.
Here’s somebody you’ve
probably never heard of: Konstantin Lopushanskiy. His obscurity stuns me, not
only because he was a protégé to the legendary Andrei Tarkovsky (serving as an
assistant on the production of Stalker),
but because this man clearly has an extraordinary insight. Apocalypse seems to
be Lopushanskiy’s field of expertise, and my research indicates that Letters from a Dead Man is his most
well-known film (even which is still pretty obscure). It is concerned with
confronting the suicide of mankind, but instead of the bludgeoning force of
most nuclear apocalypse films of its time (like The Day After or Threads),
this one is a profound and artful meditation that tries to make sense of what
would drive the human race to such an extreme as nuclear war. Part of what made
this film so interesting is its somewhat sympathetic look at its subjects of
intellectual characters, rather than flat-out demonization – they are people
who are just too caught up in their endeavors that they forgot to think about
the rest of the human race (symbolized by Professor Larsen’s ailing wife). When
they theorize and hypothesize, they seem to address nobody, as if their mind is
so caught up in logic and illogic that they forget that humanity is stripped to
basic needs for survival.
There is a part of my being
that lacks a degree of trust in science. Not that I’m a science denier; I am
forever grateful for the extraordinary strides science has brought to mankind.
That said, science has always seemed so concerned with what it can bring to
humanity that it doesn’t seem to think if it should. To me, the primary example of science putting discovery
before humanity is the nuclear weapon, and I am yet to see a film that
externalizes this pessimism of mine better than Letters from a Dead Man. Though made at the height of the paranoia
of nuclear annihilation, this little-known gem truly stands out among its peers
and has aged remarkably well. Though I wish the film would have gone a little
deeper in exploring its world, I still absolutely love what I have. Definitely
expect to see an Unsung entry on this one.
Showgirls (1995)
Directed by Paul Verhoeven
* * ½
With nothing but a suitcase,
the clothes on her back, and sex appeal, Nomi (Elizabeth Berkley), a modest and
strong young woman, it hitchhiking her way through the country, her sights set
on Las Vegas to make one hell of a gamble: to try and make it as a dancer. When
she arrives in Vegas, it’s a rough start at first: her suitcase is stolen and
she’s stuck working at the local laughing stock of strip clubs, but things
begin looking up when she is – in a sense – bought by legendary showgirl
Cristal Connors (Gina Gershon), who takes great interest, if somewhat sinister,
in Nomi’s climb to the top. But how much dignity is Nomi willing to sacrifice
to make a name for herself up on that stage?
Let’s start with leading lady,
Elizabeth Berkley: spastically energetic, clumsy on various different levels,
but so confident and so much fun that it’s kind of hard to not be taken by her
charm. Everything I’ve just said about Berkley is a nutshell version of my
thoughts on Showgirls. This is one of
the most inept movies I have ever seen to the point of laughter; one of the
most awkward scripts ever conceived combined with that signature Paul Verhoeven
direction (the same man who brought us RoboCop
and Total Recall). That said, it
seems almost as if everybody involved
in production knew just how bad the material is, and just decided to have as
much fun as possible with the experience.
Is it one of the worst movies
I’ve ever seen? No way; I can think of much, much worse. Honestly, there are some genuinely good things to say –
Verhoeven uses mirrors very creatively
throughout, and some of the dance sequences are fun to watch, my particular favorite
being a show with an industrial setting, kind of looking something like
Rammstein on Broadway (complete with kinky studded leather). but Showgirls doesn’t get completely off the
hook. This is a very energetic film, but combined with the bad material, this
can be a very overwhelming watch as it is very over-produced. Additionally,
there is a rape scene near the end of the film, and the tonal shift is so out
of place it feels extremely inappropriate. Other than that, though, I can’t
think of much else to say: Showgirls’ reputation
is kind of a legend at this point, so we all know it’s not a good movie. You
know what, though? It may be a bad movie, but dammit it was one fun ride.
Also watched this week was On the Silver Globe - please see my Editorial on my thoughts on that film.
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