Barton Fink (1991)
Directed by Joel Coen
* * * *
Hot off the critical and
commercial success of his Broadway play, the awkward and often-silent Barton
Fink (John Turturro) receives word that Hollywood-based Capitol Pictures wants
Fink to write for the movies – specifically, for a B-grade wrestling picture.
So, he heads to Los Angeles, checks into his shabby hotel, unpacks his
typewriter, and begins writing. Unfortunately, that last part becomes
complicated: writer’s block, and the script is due in one week. Further adding
to the issue at hand is his friendship with Charlie Meadows (John Goodman),
Fink’s noisy yet friendly neighbor who pops in uninvited to Fink’s room,
becoming a great irony: Fink’s seemingly only solace in this predicament is
also his primary distraction.
The Coen Brothers are very hit-or-miss for me. Sometimes their
style irritates me to no end, and sometimes they’re capable of making some of
the greatest work in movies (No Country
for Old Men remains one of the best movies I’ve seen in the past 18 years).
I don’t usually go too out of my way for their work, but films about the
writing process have always intrigued me. As you could imagine, it was only a
matter of time before I got around to the Palme d’Or-winning Barton Fink, and I can’t begin to tell
you how happy I am that I went out of my way for this. As not only an
examination and poetic portrayal of the writing process, it is also an
excellent satire on the film industry – this would make an excellent double-feature
with Robert Altman’s The Player.
Barton Fink made me really appreciate John Turturro’s skills as an
actor; looking at his performance in Do
the Right Thing, which was release 2 years prior to this, then watching Barton Fink…wow, what a transformation.
Naturally, he absolutely nails the title character. Of course, John Goodman is
always wonderful. The other-worldly atmosphere that the film creates (sometimes
teetering into Lynchian territory) is incredible, and really works to the
advantage of the Coen’s style. I honestly don’t think there’s really a bad
thing I could say about this film. It’s remarkable.
Heaven Can Wait (1943)
Directed by Ernst Lubitsch
* * * *
Following his death, Henry Van
Cleve (Don Ameche) descends down the stairs into the reception center of Hell,
greeted by His Excellency (Laird Cregar). After the life that Henry has led,
there is no possible way Henry would be allowed upstairs. Therefore, he is sure
to be granted entry into Hell without hesitation…except His Excellency seems
uncertain regarding Henry’s eligibility. Thus, His Excellency asks Henry to
recall his entire life. The son of an aristocratic family, Henry is always
getting himself into trouble, particularly with women: first, there was
Mademoiselle (Signe Hasso), a French maid who shared…certain experiences with a
young Henry. Later, there was Martha (Gene Tierney), once the fiancée of
Henry’s cousin, but soon whisked away by Henry’s mischievous charm.
Ernst Lubitsch is about to
become my next cinematic obsession. Earlier this year, I watched Trouble in Paradise (my first Lubitsch
experience) – with its simultaneously hilarious, witty, and touching
interpretation of romance along with subtle and subversive social commentary, I
fell in love. These trends continue with Heaven
Can Wait. While I’m not sure if I prefer this over Trouble in Paradise, all of Lubitsch’s touches are much more
refined here. I’m usually not a fan of films that use the “let me tell you my
entire life’s story” technique, but it works really in Heaven Can Wait, thanks to an amusing interpretation of the
Underworld, along with a terrific performance by Cregar as His Excellency.
While Heaven Can Wait hit all the right notes, I wish it would have
sustained a few notes a bit more, so to speak – I would have loved to have seen
more interactions between Henry and His Excellency in between the chapters of
Henry’s life. This is also a very talkative kind of movie, the type that is
more about dialogue than visual storytelling, so keeping up could be a little
difficult, but the sharp and hilarious dialogue never made this a problem. Yes,
I have some criticisms, but none of this was enough to derail Heaven Can Wait in the slightest. Capped
with a touching and uplifting ending, this movie is pure gold.
Johnny Got His Gun (1971)
Directed by Dalton Trumbo
* * ½
Though groggy and disoriented,
Joe Bonham (Timothy Bottoms), a young American soldier in World War 1, wakes up
in a hospital room. As his consciousness slowly begins making its way back, Joe
is confronted with the horrifying discovery that he is now a prisoner in his
own body: he is now a quadruple amputee, the result of an artillery shell
strike. Unable to move, unable to speak, he is confined to the recesses of his
own thoughts and memories – was it his own fault for volunteering? Is this just
a dream? Where does reality end and delusion begin? It’s a line that blurs only
more and more.
Based on the famous anti-war
novel, author Dalton Trumbo decides to tackle the film adaptation himself in
his only directorial effort. Though a bold move and overall admirable effort, I’m
not sure Trumbo should have taken the helm here. Trumbo does show a lot of potential,
but for a first work, he should have left the directing to somebody else. While
not a bad film, there’s a lot of surrealism throughout, and the result feels
kind of awkward throughout. In the hands of a better director, this could have
been a great film – hell, I read somewhere that Luis Bunuel was originally desired
to direct. Granted, I’m not a fan of Bunuel, but I feel his skills were much
better suited for Johnny Got His Gun.
This film does have its
moments, though. Listening to Joe’s narration and the slow realization of what
his life has become is bone-chilling (and the somewhat monotone delivery
amplifies the chill-factor). At one point, Joe forms a unique bond with one of
his nurses, who communicates with Joe by running her finger along his chest as
if writing. Not only was this very touching, but I’ve never seen anything like
it. Everything else around the film is okay – while the performances and
technicality are nothing spectacular, they get the job done. An alright film, but I’ll move on from it
pretty quickly.
L’Atalante (1934)
Directed by Jean Vigo
* * * *
After living in a small
village for her entire life, Juliette (Dita Parlo) gets to broaden her horizons
after marrying Jean (Jean Daste), the captain of L’Atalante, a small river barge which also serves as their home.
Accompanied by rowdy first mate Pere Jules (Michel Simon), they set sail for
Paris for a cargo delivery. Though it is a small voyage, it becomes a trial for
everybody involved, with the crew not used to an outsider (let alone a woman)
accompanying them, as well as the greater world is perhaps a bit too new for
Juliette. This doesn’t make the voyage a bad one, necessarily; after all, what
is the loveliness of life without some trials here and there?
A film like L’Atalante is one that cannot be watched
casually; from the time it comes from, as well as the influence and impact it
has had on the art form, it must be regarded as a piece of history over
anything else, and what an accomplishment not only for 1934, but as well as a
feature-length debut by a man dying of tuberculosis (Jean Vigo would pass just
months after L’Atalante’s premiere).
Sure, it has many of the quirks of films from this time during the transition
to talkies, but otherwise this is an assured and confident film; not once do
you get the sense that Vigo feels out of his element. On a visual level, it is
absolutely spectacular, but on a more intimate level – the tracking shot of a
bridal-gown-donned Juliette walking atop the ship was absolutely gorgeous.
As much as I emphasize this
film on a historical level, can it still be enjoyed? Absolutely, as this is a
very lovely movie. Though much of it takes place in the confines of the ship,
which may feel claustrophobic, it adds to the intimacy rather than add any kind
of tension (granted, strife becomes a theme in the film). The characters,
though not the deepest or most fascinating, are still wonderful people to spend
time with – Pere Jules, especially. I think what I love most is Vigo’s love for
moments – rather than going from one chapter to the next, Vigo spends his time
reveling in the spontaneity of the events. L’Atalante
is essential viewing for every cinephile out there, whether they want to
see it or not. You have my word you won’t regret watching it.
Silence (2016)
Directed by Martin Scorsese
* * * ½
It is the 17th
Century. Two Jesuit priests – Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam
Driver) – have received news that their fellow Jesuit and mentor Ferreira (Liam
Neeson) has renounced his faith after enduring the harsh and torturous trials
of Tokugawa-era Japan, where Christianity is strictly outlawed. In disbelief of
the news, the two pupils set out for Japan in search of Ferreira, despite the
life-threating risks they face. Albeit with great uncertainty, they turn to the
alcoholic Kichijiro (Yosuke Kubozuka) for guidance into Japan. From that point
forward, it becomes the ultimate trial of their devotion to Christ, putting to
the test just how much pain and suffering they are willing to accept in His
name.
Silence is appropriately titled. Contrary to the kinetic quality of
the vast majority of his filmography, Martin Scorsese tackles this long-time
passion project of his (which start development in 1990) with a very reserved
style, reminiscent of ‘50s Japanese cinema. This is not a relaxingly reserved
film, though; the proverbial silence is more a result akin to holding one’s
breath. This is an incredibly tense film, the threats of a persecuting valley
always stalking the world around our protagonists. In turn, Silence becomes one hell (pun more or
less intended) of a journey – due to the film’s scale and arduous odyssey (both
external and internal), I’m tempted to call this Martin Scorsese’s Apocalypse Now, a comparison I’m
surprised nobody’s brought up yet.
Also surprising is just how
little discussed Silence is. Granted,
some of the dialogue is lackluster and perhaps runs 20-some minutes longer than
it needs to, but otherwise this is still a solid addition to Scorsese’s
remarkable catalog. At least it earned an Oscar nomination for Best
Cinematography, which is fully deserved. Also noteworthy is Andrew Garfield’s
performance as the struggling Jesuit. Though not one of Scorsese’s absolute
best movies, it’s an overlooked gem worth looking into – besides, you can never
go wrong with Marty.
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