The second, and decidedly superior product, from Robert Benton last weekend. In the recent Feast of Love, Benton traded in the solid, veteran cast from his previous film Twilight for a set of young and sexy pawns to cater to navel-gazing empty-headed philosophes. This film, however, takes major advantage of its L.A. setting, incorporating the right sites and sights of those sites (and corresponding implications about L.A. and its inhabitants) to construct a solid “neo-noir” (as they’re calling it) that would make the old boys proud. If Hollywood movies have taught us anything, it’s that there is nothing good, moral, or hopeful to be found in Los Angeles. It’s a doomed city, as it was from its earliest days when a bunch of capitalist idealists decided to settle in an area when a soon-to-be-depleted water supply, no harbor, and virtually no chance of survival at the onset of the Industrial Revolution. The area had no life in it, but they forced life into it, anyway.

L.A. hills

The newspapers were infamously responsible for a good chunk of this forced growth, acknowledged by Jack Ames (Gene Hackman), who says that what the L.A. Times says is good enough for him, truth-wise. This acknowledgment commits that famous error of noir characters, conflating or confusing truth with fact. (Ames is referring to a supposed murder that the Times claimed was a suicide.) Ames’ poor health fits the bill of the castrated patriarchal figure who finances and initiates the investigation, which of course turns out to implicate him and those close to him.

He has the cancer

Speaking of castration, the opening scene almost castrates Harry Ross (Paul Newman), as 17-year old Mel Ames (Reese Witherspoon) accidentally puts a bullet into his inner thigh. As a result, the police force mistakenly believes this P.I. has lost his manhood when in fact he’s quite virile, especially for a senior citizen. The diegetic “audience” (basically the police force and James Garner’s character Raymond Hope) assume him to be no threat, having lost his instrument of power. Hope even asks Ross point blank if he’s still got it. The same point correlates to Ross’ ability to invade the intimate spaces of women without them feeling threatened. At their first encounters in the film, both of the Ames women (daughter and mother) are fully undressed when Ross penetrates their hotel room and swimming area, respectively. Though Mel is disappointed to see him and Catherine (Susan Sarandon, the chief femme fatale) delighted, neither is phased in the slightest at encountering this particular male figure while bodily exposed.

Unphased

That Harry has no space of his own – forced to live with his client and client’s attractive wife – fits with the down-and-out nature of his character and the nature of noir’s glory days: always in the past (or always the stuff of dreams). The sinister characters – whether directly implicated in the crimes or guilty by association – dwell without exception in those notorious Modernist style cliff homes overlooking the L.A. Basin. These are the homes of the successful, and to be successful in L.A. involves a lack of scruples (at least in the movies). The P.I. character may not have many scruples, but he does have some. He’s interested not in ascending but in surviving. He may temporarily disregard conventional morals (such as destroying evidence, breaking and entering), but only for the pragmatic greater good. Harry’s days are bygone days or attempts to re-enter bygone days. The same can be said of his clients and his nemesis. At the same time, there’s a “I can’t go back to that” element that is undeniable, but only in moments of intense duress. Noir’s defeatist fatalism must admit in moments of clarity that even the past was no more glorious than the present. Harry’s past includes a divorce and alcoholism. Raymond’s past returns him to the flat Basin from the jagged cliffs. Raymond’s last name, “Hope,” and his eventual death capture the inevitability of the dark world of L.A. success and the crime that must accompany it. The ironically hopeful ending for Harry returns him to a liminal past – not the distant past but further back than the present. He returns to a vacation spot, a dream, a temporary escape from all that is unavoidable in his life. As is often the case with noir protagonists, however, Harry is an amnesiac, forgetting this film’s opening setting and his almost-castration, which took place at a vacation spot in Mexico.

Living in a crime scene

Tampering

Echoes of Sunset Boulevard

Power overlooking

Wasn’t planning on posting this now, but an historic moment has arrived: my first blog post while airborne, thanks the the good people at Google and Virgin America. Too bad the movie sucks.

Two from Robert Benton, two days in a row, starting with the more recent of the two: Feast of Love. A weird film; one would expect something quite a bit more substantial and not so stacked with sophistry from an experienced director and pretty solid cast. Morgan Freeman is basically “God” again, offering the hollow voiceover about the Greek gods and how they invented love, what a mess it turned out to be, etc., etc. Could be argued that the camera work is trying to mimic the way in which Greek gods might observe us silly human lovers: constantly moving in and out, side to side, giving that transient quality to everything it sees. Life occurs, then rinses itself off, then repeats. The movement isn’t as fluid as an Altman or as jagged as a Cuarón; seems overall noncommittal, confused. The film professes to profess wisdom, and thanks to Freeman it might well get away with it for gullible audiences. The actors, the clichés, and the nudity factor are likely to keep plenty interested in this truly uninteresting film. Hard to value something for pointing out facts that a day in the real world with an ounce of common sense makes quite obvious. Sounds like the definition of “pretentious”.

A escolha do par “Mancha humana” para este exercício reflecte muito mais o gosto que senti ao ler o livro do que um juízo positivo sobre o filme a que ele deu origem. Isto é, gostei muito, mas mesmo muito do livro e, tal como me acontece quase sempre em circunstâncias semelhantes, não apreciei particularmente o filme embora também não possa dizer à la lusitana que haja sido “uma grande desilusão”.
Estou acompanhado nesta apreciação pelo autor que já mais do que uma vez referiu considerar Human Stain uma das suas melhores obras, em contraste com a classificação de “fraquinho” que atribuiu ao filme. Philip Roth costuma dizer, aliás, que depois do “Goodbye, Columbus” nenhum dos outros filmes feitos a partir dos seus livros atingiu um nível aceitável. Existe assim uma aparente consonância entre escritor e leitor entusiasmado/espectador decepcionado. Não tenho conhecimentos suficientes para discutir as razões desta frequente dissociação para além das habituais generalidades: nível das expectativas, diferenças artísticas, factor surpresa, variabilidade narrativa, “tempos” diferentes, …
Gostei (e continuo a gostar) da maioria dos livros de Philip Roth que li embora confesse que me irrita sempre um bocado aquela certeza de que seja qual for a história ela andará à volta de um jovem judeu nascido na Newark dos anos pós-depressão e/ou do adulto que lhe sucedeu e que Nathan Zuckerman epitomiza desta vez como o narrador-amigo-do-protagonista. Mais recentemente, a tonalidade autobiográfica do jovem judeu heterodoxo entretanto envelhecido tem-nos arrastado com uma violência quase-machista para os problemas da terceira idade que o afligem.
As contrário dos outros livros a Mancha Humana passa-se no presente, num dos períodos mais marcantes da minha geração – a América do fim dos anos noventa – e sem deixar de ser povoado pelos fantasmas habituais do autor, dá vários passos em frente. De entre eles salientaria os que mais influenciaram a minha escolha: uma narrativa exemplar dos EUA e das suas gentes, a raça e o racismo, o politicamente correcto, e a organização do poder, seja académico ou outro. Alguns deles afloram no filme, infelizmente de forma bastante menos conseguida do que no livro.
Porto, 19 de Novembro de 2009
Manuel Sobrinho Simões

No próximo dia 27 de Novembro, pelas 21h30, a Casa de Camilo recebe Manuel Sobrinho Simões, um dos cientistas portugueses mais conhecidos fora da comunidade científica. Director do Instituto de Patologia e Imunologia Molecular da Universidade do Porto, é um dos maiores especialistas mundiais em cancro da tiróide.
Sobrinho Simões é o convidado da iniciativa “Um Livro, Um Filme”, que decorre nas últimas sexta-feiras de cada mês e tem como objectivo a apresentação de um filme que tenha um significado especial para o convidado e que preferencialmente seja adaptado de uma obra literária.
Neste âmbito, “Culpa Humana” de Robert Benton, com Anthony Hopkins e Nicole Kidman, é o filme escolhido por Sobrinho Simões. Baseado no excelente romance de Philip Roth “A Mancha Humana”, a película é uma viagem pela ambição, individualismo, fraude e nostalgia do amor, que ensaia as regras da identidade e independência, raça e preconceito, brutalidade e ternura ao estilo americano.

Manuel SOBRINHO SIMÕES

Nasceu no Porto em 8 de Setembro de 1947. Licenciou-se na Faculdade de Medicina da Universidade do Porto (FMUP) em 1971 e doutorou-se nessa Faculdade, em 1978, com uma Tese sobre Cancro da Tiróide. Fez o pós-doutoramento em 1979/80 em Oslo, no Instituto de Cancro da Noruega. É, desde 1990, Professor Associado de Patologia e Biologia Celular da Faculdade de Medicina da Thomas Jefferson University, Filadélfia, E.U.A. Preside desde a sua fundação, ao Instituto de Patologia e Imunologia Molecular da Universidade do Porto. Organizou e dirigiu o Mestrado de Oncobiologia da FMUP de 1990 a 1996 e co-coordena desde essa data o Programa Doutoral em Biomedicina da U. Porto (Programa GABBA). Co-organizou e dirige o Programa Doutoral em Medicina e Oncologia Molecular da U.Porto. Foi co-autor de mais de 300 publicações científicas em revistas internacionais de patologia humana e oncologia e de 24 livros e capítulos de livros que deram origem a mais de 6000 citações. Pertence ao Comité Editorial de 13 revistas internacionais de Patologia, Oncologia e Endocrinologia. Presidiu à Sociedade Europeia de Patologia (SEP) de 1999 a 2001, depois de ter sido Secretário-Geral de 89 a 97. É membro Honorário de várias Academias e Sociedades Científicas Europeias, Americanas e Asiáticas. Prémio Bordalo Ciência – 1996, Prémio Seiva – 2002 e Prémio Pessoa – 2002. Medalha de Ouro de Arouca e Porto e Medalha de Mérito da Cruz Vermelha Portuguesa e da Ordem dos Médicos; Grande Cavaleiro da Ordem Real da Noruega e Grã-Cruz da Ordem do Infante D. Henrique.
Actualmente é Professor Catedrático na FMUP, Chefe de Serviço no Hospital de S. João, Director do IPATIMUP e Vice-Presidente da Direcção do Health Cluster Portugal.
Gabinete de Imprensa da
Câmara Municipal de Vila Nova de Famalicão
19 de Novembro de 2009

Once again the Fistic Mystic reports from ringside.  Tonight we’ll be treated to a Minnesota state title fight and a card of competitive boxing matches at a variety of weights.

A few changes on the card tonight – Tomi Archambault has been replaced with David Laque, Robert Benton has been replaced by Chance Western, and the Brad Croaker-Marty Lindquist is absent from the official bout sheet.

Brad Patraw (now 6-1 with 4 kayos) is defeated by Antwan Robertson (now 5-1-1 with 3 kayos) after eight rounds.  Robertson is the new Minnesota bantamweight champion.  The scores are announced as 76-75, 76-74, and 76-74.

Round 1

Robertson begins the action with a light jab, Patraw follows him into his corner and lands a stronger jab.  Robertson throws the first combination of the fight, landing a right hook to the hip of Patraw.  Robertson lunges with a big right hook that misses wildly, but stabs a jab into the eye of Patraw as a follow up.  Now the two are circling to their right, and Robertson attacks again.  A sharp jab lands to the body of Patraw, then a strong right to the head.  Patraw flurries in reply, and lands several times.  Robertson is jabbing with good effect, keeping Patraw more at bay than at any time in the first meeting between these two.  Patraw is content so far to follow and take a jab to get close.  Robertson sticks him with the right jab, then the two clinch.  Patraw tries to catch Robertson off guard with a wide hook, but to little effect.  Robertson lands a sharp right to the temple of Patraw a few seconds before the bell, and I’d say that Robertson has taken the round decisively.

Round 2

Patraw lands a good power shot to the body of Robertson, Robertson responds with a sharp right-left to the body of Patraw.  Robertson looks noticeably faster than Patraw so far, but when Patraw gets his range he does land the more powerful punches.  Patraw continues to come forward and Robertson continues to retreat and counter.  Patraw finally jumps forward to land three shots, and Robertson boogies out of the corner in which he was nearly trapped.  Robertson ducks under a left hook but fails to counter.  Patraw is stymied by the quickness and jabs of Robertson.  Patraw finally corners Robertson, but after landing one hook is clinched and has to give up the ground he’d gained.  Robertson lands a straight right that must have hurt, but his corner advises him to throw combinations instead of single shots.  The two trade as the bell rings, and referee Nelson has to break them up and push Robertson away.

Round 3

Patraw comes out this round trying to jab back at Robertson, but Robertson gets a right through to the side of Patraw’s head and momentarily sets Patraw’s ear on his shoulder.  Patraw bulls Robertson into a corner and lets him go.  Robertson continues to land his jab, and Patraw is looking intense, but frustrated.  Intensely frustrated.  Patraw finally goes back to the body and lands two good power shots to Robertson before Robertson bounces off the ropes and  into the center of he ring.  Patraw lands a single hook to the ribs of Robertson, then a jab to Robertson’s face.  Robertson lands a stinging jab to Patraw’s face, snapping his head back.  Patraw can’t match Robertson’s speed and has yet to cut off the ring  – but just as I write the words, he finally does and lands three good body shots that bend Robertson over at the waist.  Bell and round.

Round 4

Between rounds Patraw is advised by Jonny Johnson to counter with the right hook.  Patraw again corners Robertson, only momentarily, and scores with more shots to the head and body.  Robertson isn’t snapping that jab so effectively now, and Patraw is getting his range.  Now Patraw stands stock still, then lunges forward to connect with a solid right to the head.  Robertson is nearly trapped against the ropes, but lands a good one-two and bashes his way out. Nevertheless, Patraw is getting closer and closer, and connecting more often as a result.  A powerful right lands to the body of Robertson.  Patraw plays possum against the ropes, and Robertson goes after him looking for blood.  The two trade in dramatic fashion, electrifying the crowd!  The round ends with Robertson’s corner screaming at him that he must go out on his shield, but the bell rings and momentarily postpones such an exit for either man.

Round 5

Robertson is back jabbing, but Patraw charges in on him and lands.  Clinching against the ropes, the two throw few punches and land none.  Patraw is more on offense than Robertson right now, but both men are in this game.  Robertson continues to move back and to the left.  His corner is frustrated that he’s showing less offense this round.  Patraw catches Robertson near his corner and bounces him off the ropes.  Robertson is caught with his hands down.  Patraw is intent on  making this a war, and Robertson is less interested.  But scientific boxing won’t win this fight for Robertson.  Patraw’s right hand is at his waist now, but Robertson fails to throw.  Robertson is backing off.  Now he finally puts his head down and connects with a monstrous hook and uppercut combination.  Patraw’s feet are far apart and his knees bent so far that his butt nearly sweeps the canvas, and Robertson again lands with a wild hook that snaps Patraws head back against the top rope.  Finally Patraw escapes and as he runs away, taunts Robertson.  But that hurt!

Round 6

Robertson pops a right hand to the face of Patraw but fails to follow it.  Patraw is brawling with some effect, but he can’t match Robertson’s speed when Robertson attacks.  Robertson cracks Patraw hard with a right, the two circle, and then Robertson hits him with another very powerful right that hurts him.  Patraw is inspired to fire back, but has trouble meeting Robertson flush.  Robertson tries to duck a combination, but gets hit with three of four punches.  Robertson lands a left jab and then a right hook that sends Patraw skidding across the ring on his backside.  Patraw wants to show that he isn’t hurt so rises immediately, but it’s clear that he absorbed a monstrous hook.  No further action before the bell.

Round 7

Patraw wants to show that he hasn’t lost any steam, but Robertson lands twice with flush hooks that Patraw tries but fails to dodge.  Patraw lands flush with a slapping right hook to Robertson’s head.  Robertson is on his horse now, trying to get a breather, now referee Nelson stops the action to warn Robertson – for holding, I think.  Back to action, each man tags the other with a power shot.  Robertson tries to engage but Robertson pops him with a good left hook.  Robertson just isn’t fast enough to brawl with Robertson – he needs a new strategy!  After eating a right and bouncing off the ropes Robertson lands a good left, but only a single left.  Now a solid right hook hurts Patraw, who has a big red welt on his left cheek.  Robertson pursues and catches Patraw with another big hook, but the bell rings and both men head back to their corners.

Round 8

Patraw comes out jabbing.  Robertson lands one big right, then five seconds later another one.  Patraw is moving backwards when Robertson catches him twice with big hooks that leave him stunned.  Robertson is going for the kill!  Patraw tries to punch out of his corner and gets out, but gets caught and goes down for the second time in this fight – and the second time in his career.  Robertson is running now.  Patraw finally catches him and the two clash in the center of the ring, but the end result is a clash of heads that hurts Patraw more than Robertson.  Patraw is bleeding a lot, but it’s hard to tell from where.  It’s on his face, his neck, and his back.  It looks like it’s coming from a gash on his head above his right ear.  More banging, but no further scoring before the rounds ends.  End of the fight.  What a fight!!!

Jesse Barbot (now 6-5 with 3 kayos) is defeated by Michael Davis (now 4-6 with 4 kayos) by knockout in round 6 of 6 scheduled.

 Round 1

The fighters immediately begin circling slowly to their right, with each man testing the waters with tentative jabs.  Now Davis begins  moving to his left and throws a combination that lands.  Barbot finally lands with a right to the body of the smaller Davis, but it’s only one punch.  Davis lands below the belt and receives a warning as the action continues.  Now Barbot tries to wade in brawling, but Davis proves elusive as he retreats into this own corner.  Davis in turn backs Barbot into a neutral corner and lands, then Davis escapes.  Now the two meet by the ropes and wrestle themselves into Barbot’s corner, where referee Bobby Brunette separates them.  Davis lands a big single shot that momentarily freezes Barbot, but Barbot charges into Davis with his head down and lands a couple of glancing blows which nonetheless count.  An audible clash of heads is the onlyfurther  action before the bell rings.

Round 2

Davis, being visibly smaller than Barbot, is tense and careful as the second round begins, Barbot is more relaxed, but also looking for an opening.  After missing a left Barbot lands a good right, but then eatts a very strong counter from Davis that puts him off for a moment.  Barbot is coming forward, Davis retreating, and if Barbot manages to cut off Davis’s retreat he’ll find a chance to throw the mustard.  Neither man is afraid of contact and the two have gone chest-to-chest more than once without scoring any big blows.    Davis is moving backwards and looks to throw a left but hesitates, and Barbot lands a good scoring shot at an opportune time.  The two trade but neither hurts the other to the end of the round.

Round 3

Davis digs with an ambitious right uppercut to the ribs of Barbot.  Barbot is trying mightily to catch Davis, but having trouble catching up to his wiry quick opponent.  Davis lunges forward as he throws a right, so much so that he hits Barbot’s temple with his bicep instead of his fist.  Barbot is stalking Davis, but when he finally catches him gets his mouthpiece knocked out.  It takes a few moments for Brunette to recognize that it’s out, but the action quickly resumes.  Barbot is now ducking and charging in an attempt to get close enough to land, which results in a clash and both men throwing rabbit punches.  Barbot is clearly aggravited and taunts Davis before charging in wildly - although his antics incite the crowd, his attack is ineffectual.  Davis lands one more power shot as the round ends.

Round 4

Barbot is out for blood and corners Davis.  After absorbing a couple of good shots Davis scoots past Barbot and into the center of the ring.  Davis is still on his toes but slowing doewn, and Barbot lands his best punch of the fight in Davis’s corner.  Davis allows Barbot to maul him for a few moments, then tries to punch his way out but is unable.  Barbot is leaning on Davis with his entire weight and mauling the body.  Brunette finally breaks the two, then as soon as action resumes he stops it again to warn both men.  I can’t hear what the warnings are for.  Davis and Barbot both land oppostite hand hooks a tthe same time, neither is hurt.  Davis looks to be having fun, though he is clearly tired and hurt.  Barbot is wild-eyed and employing roughhouse tactics.  More unstrategic mauling follows, which favors the larger man – Barbot.  Bell and round.

Round 5

Davis comes out on offense and immediately lands lefts repeatedly to the face of Barbot.  When that strategy is played out he lands a good right to the ribs of Barbot.  Barbot is now jabbing, then backs Davis up one more time and lands to uppercuts to the body of Davis.  Davis looks a little wobbly and slow, but Barbot may be too tired to capitalize.  finally Davis charges Barbot and lands three lefts that knock
Barbot down.  as action resumes Barbot goes down a second time.  Davis charges Barbot again and punches him through the ropes where he is caught by the timekeeper - it was a left that did the dirty work that time.  Barbot gets back ito the ring and is game but exhausted and his balance is shot.  The round ends with Barbot staggering back to his corner and Davis jubilant at what he thinks will come next.

Round 6

Just as the round begins Davis states “I ain’t got no mouthpiece and is sent back to his corner to retrieve it.  Now the two are back in their patterns Barbot coming forward and Davis countering.  Barbot, breathing heavily through the mouth, loses his mouthpiece.  Aftet getting it back he tries again to corner Davis but is hurt to the ribs by a Davis left and goes to his knees.  Back on his feet, Barbot is trying to meet Davis’s power with scuzz of his own, but Davis has m uch more pop at this point and Barbot is getting tagged regularly.  Barbot lands a good overhand right to the jaw of Davis, and a lull follows.  Davis lunges in, grabs Barbot around the waist, and throws a right that connects to barbot’sspine.  Barbot loses his mmouthpiece once more and whether it’s that distraction or sheer exhaustion, backs off just in time to get his by a powershotting Davis right.  Barbot goes down hard flat on his back, and his head bounces on the mat.  Brunette immediately – and wisely – halts the fight.

Nick Whiting (now 2-12 with 2 kayos) defeats Travis McCullough (now 1-4 with 1 kayo) by knockout in round 2 of 4 scheduled

McCullough enters the ring to the strains of the reggae tune Buffalo Soldier, while Whiting makes his entrance accompanied by the Stones’ Paint it Black.

Round 1

After a lengthy unexplained delay, the bell finally rings and we’re off!  McCullough is jabbing and punching up the middle, while Whiting keeps coming forward without landing anything.  Each time Whiting gets close he eats a left hand from McCullough.  Finally Whiting makes some offense, landing a couple of wide hooks to the body.  The two circle and jab for a time, then Mac lands a single power shot to the body, then a single power shot to the h ead of Whiting.  Whiting finally gets inside and lands several hooks and an uppercut to the middle of Mac’s body.  Mac lands a wide left hook, then doubles up on the right jab to drive Whiting backwards.  Whiting loses his mouthpiece and the fight is paused only briefly.  Whiting lands two in a row, then takes a straight left and falls down backwards.  Referee Brunette treats it as a knockdown and gives Whiting the mandatory eight count.  The two move and trade through the end of the round, neither man scoring appreciably.

Round 2

Mac begins the second in pursuit of Whiting, Whiting is game and tries to trade with him.  Whiting’s hands aren’t fast or heavy, but he needs to move them more if he’s going to be in this fight.  Whiting ducks under a left hook and lands three jabs as he comes forward.  Mac is battering Whiting with lefts and rights, and Whiting’s defense seems to be degrading.  Whiting lands two left  jabs to the torso of Mac, but the bigger and stronger man appears to MacCullough.  Suddenly Whiting lands a single shot to the body that crumples Mac, and referee Brunette counts him out.  KO win for Whiting! 

Derek Winston (now 1-0) defeats David Laque (now 1-3 with 1 kayo) by unanimous decision after four rounds

Round 1

Feints and dancing rule the early going.  A clash in a neutral corner results in no punches being landed.  Laque lands the first punch of the night with a right  jab about twenty seconds in, then lands a straight right as he circles to his right.  Laque lunges in and lands what may have been a left hook to the body of Winston, then Winston pauses to hike up his trunks and has to fend of a quick attack from Laque.  Laque feints and Winston misses with a big left hook.  Laque is moving his upper body well and making it tough for Winston to connect.  The other half of the equasion is also in Laque’s favor, as he lands another snapping hook to the body of Winston.  Winston is loading up, but his cornerman John Hoffman sagely advises him to use his speed instead.  Winston gets smart and lands solidly for the first time tonight with an uppercut to Laque’s body.  Winston pursues Laque and lands two more glancing punches to the body, but nothing of great effect.

Round 2

Laque twice lunges forward to land left hooks to the head and chest of Winston.  Winston, the quicker man, seems to having trouble gauging Laque’s movements.  A straight right misses the mark for Winston, and the two circle.  A clinch results in no connections, and referee Mark Nelson breaks the two apart.  Laque’s lunging is getting more reckless as he gains confidence.  Winston lands a good single shot but fails to follow up.  Winston then lands a very solid right to the midsection of Laque, but Laque again escapes.  Winston switches to southpaw momentarily and ducks, then throws Laque coming in.  Laque regains his balance and the two circle.  Winston hangs his tongue out, and when Laque comes forward Winston tags him with two solid shots.  Laque ducks and lunges at the same time, getting his head caught under Winston’s arm in the act.  No more offense ensues before the round ends.

Round 3

Winston comes out looking to score, but Laque again ducks down and Winston lands only glancing blows.  Laque may be tiring, as he’s getting caught under Winston’s arms more and more frequently.  Another duck from Laque, and this time he grabs Winston around the waist.  Nelson breaks the two, and a tactical battle begins.  After mostly useless waving of fists, Winston finally catches Laque with a good shot to the body, but ten seconds later gets caught in kind.  Laque flurries with several power shots, but then Winston unloads one huge left hook that puts him off balance. 

Winston now begins moving backwards and countering effectively, and this fight mjay have turned in his favor.

Winston ducks and lunges as Laque has been doing, and though he fails to score, Laque appeared to notice that the tables had been turned.  Bell rings, round over.

Round 4

Winston needs to score well this round, or his long-anticipated pro debut may result in a points loss.  Winston does land a good shot to the head of Laque, but Laque responds with more movement than he’s shown in the last two rounds.  Laque ducks and clinches as Winston tries to land to his head.  Winston connects with a right jab, then retreats while throwing counter hooks at Laque’s chest and midsection.  Laque lands a good right the snaps Winston’s head back, but Winston shows good toughness and maintains his focus.  Winston lands a good right, but then goes on the retreat again.  Laque momentarily freezes Winston with a good right hook, and the two appear to have arrived at a stylistic dead end.  Finally Winston lands a couple of shots in a row, and Laque appears to be bleeding from the nose.  Winston lands one more glancing right as the bell rings, and this fight is going to the judges. 

Concha Ross (now 0-0-1) and Brittany Tenbears (now 3-0-1) battle to a majority draw after 4 rounds

Round 1

 This is a no-defense brawl from the word go.  Ross charges Tenbears throwing wild hooks, which Tenbears counters effectively with better-placed power shots from angles.  The action slows down, but Tenbears lands a solid left hook to the head, then a painful hook to the body of Ross, which prompts Ross to go back on offense.  Tenberas, tiring visibly as the round draws to a close, lands a serious uppercut to the body of Ross, then Ross backs Tenbears into her own corner and lands her best combination of the round, which culminates in a monstrous right hook to the head.  The two begin to trade just as the bell rings, and referee Bobby Brunette has to break them up.

Round 2

Ross comes out under control, lands a few good shots, but then gets shoved  into the ropes and tagged by a huge shot from Tenbears.  Tenbearas is bleeding from the nose, but continues to land with jabs and straights.  After a brief lull Tenbears lands a shot that once again prompts Ross to flurry effectively.  The bout pauses so Tenbears can get her mouthpiece back in – it’s been missing for a while – and then resumes with slow clubbing punches from both heavyweights.  Ross again bulls Tenbears into the ropes and flurries.  As the round ends, Tenbears is trying to mount some offense, but she appears to be exhausted.  It looks like Tenbears is a more skilled fighter, but Ross is in better shape and lighter on her feet.

Round 3

Both fighters appear reluctant to engage at the beginning of this round, but after about twenty seconds Tenbears tries to end it all at once with a desperate volley of power shots.  Ross answers in kind, albeit with less effect.  Tenbears then tries to keep Ross at bay with the jab, but doesn’t seem to have the energy to throw it, instead sticking it in Ross’s face and leaving it there..  Referee Brunette breaks the two and Tenbears turns her back and walks aaway.  Again she appears reluctant to fight, now Ross hurts her with a number of well-polaced powerr shots.  Tenbears loses her mouthpiece again, and the ref must again pause the action.  It’s hard to say, but Tenbears may be bleeding pretty badly inside herr mouth – either that or she’s using a red mouthpiece.

Round 4

Tenbears smacks Ross with a good left jab and takes three or four power shots in return.  Tenbears escapes the pressure for a moment, but gets caught again, her head snapped back by a vicious shot right from Ross.  Exhaustion has slowed the pace of this fight to a crawl.  Tenbears lands two good shots about three seconds apart. Ross has strength and toughness in spades, and though her face is red all over, she continues to come forward, though most of her punches have lacked snap.  The round ends with both ladies grappling and throwing body shots, and the round and the fight come to a merciful end.

Lawrence Goodman (now 1-0 with 1 kayo) defeats Chance Western (now 1-2 with no kayos), by TKO in round 1 of 4 scheduled.

Round 1

The two touch gloves at the center of the ring and then dance indecisively for about fifteen seconds, until Western touches Goodman with a left jab.  Tactical jabbing ensues until a meeting near a neutral corner sees Goodman pop Western with a couple of power shots, then the two break and met at the opposite corner.    Western connects with his first power shots of the night, but now Goodman is definitely getting the better of things.  Several clashes in different areas of the ring result in serious damage to Western, to the point where he begins flinching and turning his back at contact. About halfway through the first round Goodman knocks Western down to a knee.  Western rises immediately looking dazed and begins to walk away from referee Mark Nelson who immediately takes the cue to stop the bout. 

Brad Croaker (3-0 with 2 kayos) -vs- Marty Lindquist (13-8 with 10 kayos), cruiserweights, scheduled for 4 rounds

Round 1

Round 2

Round 3

Round 4

Harry老來痛失愛子而不能工作,整日閑賦在咖啡店,無意間窺探了別人的生活,Bradley和妻子結婚多年, Bradley非常享受婚姻生活,但卻無視妻子的需求, 妻子怕狗,但他很想養狗, 自以為醫治了她怕狗的心病,生日送上狗作為生日禮物, 妻子受同性戀者的迷惑而不察覺,反而Harry和 Bradley,其妻子及那個女人相識當天已察覺, Bradley和妻子離婚而大受打擊, 不久Bradley重振作投入生活, 遇到Diana, Bradley 追求她不久便結婚, Harry曾當Bradley的面質疑Diana, 為什麼這麼漂亮好條件的Diana會至今獨生, 原來Diana一直和已婚的David熱戀,Diana潛意識利用和Bradley結婚激David , David 離婚和Diana重新走在一起, Bradley又一次感情受傷,離婚收場. Bradley 發現自己一直沉醉在自己一廂情愿,理所應當的想當然之中,沒有睜開眼睛看人和生活.

在Bradley 咖啡店里工作的 Oscar 在 店里見到 Chole 一見鍾情. 兩人熱戀, 認真生活. Chole有一次去算命, 神婆告訴她, 她的愛人會死去. Chole聽從Harry的建意生孩子. Chole 得知Harry老來失去唯一的兒子, 叫Harry考慮認Oscar 為誼子. 不久Oscar心臟病發死去. Harry從Bradley得知Chole其實知道Oscar可能會死,她還是沒有逃避命運的安排. 勇敢地接受一切而感動. Harry決定收養Chole. Bradley又一次和女醫生展開戀情. 處處故事,處處情. 生命在悲痛中延續著. 人還得堅強地挺下去.

Imagine, finding Meryl in a Philippine English book! That was heaven to me, but I realized it just now. When I got my college English book, Reading Into Writing 2 by Concepcion Dadufalza, I was reading through all the selections and I came across a Kramer vs. Kramer review (probably it was written around the time of the movie) and I did not mind it, being indifferent to Meryl Streep or Dustin Hoffman (during that time, I already know Meryl through TDWP but technically, she does not exist in my world) Yesterday, I stumbled upon the book and read it again, and was really amazed of the treasure that I got. Really a rare finding for a dedicated Streeper.

So, no more of my blabbings. Here’s the selection itself:

KRAMER VS. KRAMER. Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep

Directed by Robert Benton. Columbia Pictures

David Derby

Joanna Kramer (Meryl Streep), a Manhattan housewife, perhaps 30 years old, kisses her sleeping child (“I love you, Billy”, she says) and then packs her bag to go. At the same time, her husband Ted (Dustin Hoffman), who is an advertising art director, is receiving a promotion form his boss. Exultant, he rushes home, and she hits him full in the face with it. “I’m leaving you”, she says, without anger, and lays her keys and credit cards – the bonds of modern marriage, in the table. Ted, who’s accustomed to having things his own way, tries to make her stay and talk it over, but before he knows what’s happened, she whirls out of his grasp, disappears into the elevator, and their marriage is over.

The opening scenes of the extraordinary Kramer vs. Kramer are certainly abrupt, yet they seem absolutely right. Isn’t this the way many marriages end these days? A lot of silent suffering, then a sudden collapse. We don’t know what’s wrong with Joanna, but we can see that she’s bouncing off the walls of her grey-beige East Side apartment like a moth inside a silk lampshade. When she say she’s had it, that’s right. Writer-director Robert Benton has made something very exciting out of Avery Corman’s 1977 bestseller. The Corman book was an impersonally written piece of manufacture, a bland, journalistic novel about mediocre people. But the Benton movie is a major dramatic work – startling, emotionally involving, with characters that are now larger and finer in every way.

The man Joanna walks-out on is a hyperactive go-better, a self-absorbed business success  – not a bastard, but a stunned product of the corporate age – who had never listened to his wife or noticed that she was unhappy. Dazed, ted turns to his son Billy – whom he never really saw either, and falls completely in love with him. If we can speak of a passion of parenthood, that movie has it. Billy becomes Ted’s solace, his revenge, his glory. And taking car of his son tuned Ted into a full human being for the first time. But just when he’s learned to be a good daddy, Joanna returns (it’s 18 months later) and demands custody, forcing a court battle of horrifying ruthlessness.

The courtroom scene is perhaps the greatest test of Benton’s honor as a filmmaker and as a man, because the temptation to turn Joanna into a annihilating bitch must have been strong. But Benton is too shrewd for that – he rejects polemics in favor of understanding. He makes Joanna highly sympathetic. As she explains, tearfully at first, then proudly, she needed to go off and find her self-confidence and a professional identity before she could feel adequate as a mother. She makes her claim on Billy, and Ted makes his: Why shouldn’t a single man have as much right as a woman to bring up a child? The claims balance out; there is no “just” solution: Kramer vs. Kramer, quite unintentionally I think, is a tragic and ironic summing-up of the decade of self-realization and women’s liberation. Sex and marriage have failed for the Kramers. The newly confident woman and the newly sensitized man are propelled from each other. In the end, they are both adequate parents, but they cannot make a family,. I know this is a very square stuff – but the moral realism and decency of it are truly heroic.

Robert Benton who wrote (with David Newman) Bonnie and Clyde and directed Bad Company and The Late Show was once an art director and a moving spirit of the slickest and the most cynical of the great American magazines – the Esquire of the early 60’s. As much as anyone now working in the movies, Benton is aware of the traps of sincerity – the ways that well-meaning writers and filmmakers can make fools of themselves. Yet this fear and hatred of sentimentality haven’t paralyzed him. Quite the contrary: Every notion in Kramer is fully felt, fully supported. Benton clears away the muck of bad movies (too much music, “lyrical”, photography, unnecessary locations), and his rigorous simplicity brings us closer to the characters. The script is classically structured, with repeating motifs and symmetries (for instance, three contrasting scenes of Ted and Billy eating together), yet every scene says tightly focused on mood and feelings, and the editing weaves the brief, highly pointed episodes into powerfully sustained progression.

Who could have imagined that so impassioned a work could have been out of the banalities of child rearing? Working with Justin Henry, a serious and beautiful seven-year-old who had never acted before, Dustin Hoffman gives the most detailed, the most affecting performance of his life. Hoffman’s personality, his soul, has always been expressed in physical energy. At first, his Ted Kramer is all nerves – everything he does is fast, jerky, slammed out. Wound up tight, Hoffman delivers such a fatuous male sentiments as “I’m the one bringing home the bacon around here” with so much hysteria under the surface that you can’t hate poor Ted; he’s macho fool, the triumphant husband and father whose fortress has accountably collapsed. As Ted begins to understand Billy a little, Hoffman moves into a slower rhythm and deeper emotions. He gets away with a teary scene in which he explains that Mommy left because she couldn’t stand him, Ted, and not because she was mad at Billy – and gets away with it by underplaying and be making us concentrate on Ted’s decency in sparing the boy pain. In this contemporary Doll’s House, the emphasis isn’t on the exasperated woman who walks out but on the feeling of the man who’s left behind. Some women, I imagine, may object: Until men began doing it, few people thought raising a child was a dramatic enough subject for a movie. Yet even if you dislike seeing so much made out of Ted’s parental ardor (I didn’t), you have to admire the fluency, the heat, of Hoffman’s acting.

Meryl Streep, of course, doesn’t get the plummy, heartwarming moments. It’s not her movie, but she ennobles it with her cool, nonactressy radiance. Her beauty is still mysterious for us – the sharply stenciled brow, the small precisely cut features seem almost Minoan in their strangeness. At first, Benton uses her as a kind of icon. The opening shot – a close- up as she says goodbye to Billy and Ted from behind a window, she looks witchlike, sinister. But in the climactic courtroom scene the mystery drops away. Her Joanna is not demonic, just restless in the modern way. She left her child because she was betraying herself: now that she possesses her own identity (her high-salaried job is a bit miraculous, but we’ll let that pass), she wants him back. Joanna’s jargon-ridden language is banal, but the feeling, the mixture of guilt and pride, is not, and Streep, avoiding all the traditional acting clichés of frustrated mother love, builds the emotion to a peak without ever raising her voice.

Benton makes the courtroom frightening and morally squalid. First Joanna testifies, then Ted’s sympathetic next-door neighbor (Jane Alexander), then ted himself. With murderous skill the opposing lawyers tear the witnesses apart, using their best qualities against them (for instance Ted’s devoting so much time to Billy that he loses his job)/ We’re meant to feel outraged by the lawyers’ brutalities and also outraged by the way Ted’s boss strings him along dumps him in the crucial moment. Kramer is so wrenching because it demonstrates clearly enough that the “public” world is heartless, even vicious, yet it also shows that the private world – the family – often doesn’t work anymore. What’s left is the lovely spectacle of father and child propping each other up.

So, in other words, he’s saying the film deserves its top Oscars. And he was really impressed my Meryl’s fluidity and vagueness. She does not let us see her as a bitch, just a problematic woman. And though I hate Dustin Hoffman for slapping Meryl, I have to agree with David Derby that he did his part well, and deserve any honor he gets from it.

As mentioned in my piece on The Friends of Eddie Coyle, Robert Mitchum was in another noir in 1975 called Farewell, My Lovely. So far no DVD release has come for this overlooked film from the cycle of 70’s noirs.  It’s a color film version of the Raymond Chandler potboiler, set in 1941 L.A.  Mitchum plays private eye Philip Marlowe, of course, but the supporting cast is excellent also, including Harry Dean Stanton, Charlotte Rampling and Sylvia Miles.

Directed by Dick Richards, a former Life photographer, the film is an updating to 70’s realism of an old story from the days of the dark, sinister dream-world noir style. The period L.A. of this film stands out much more than it would in earlier films, and feels much more lifelike. The noir lighting style is employed, but here in dazzling reds and shadows of all colors, for the first time you get a sense of things as they looked for real. Neon signs jump out of the night, and sidewalks are washed in color. Broad daylight is, well, broad daylight. Refreshing.

Polanski’s Chinatown, Altman’s Long Goodbye, Penn’s Night Moves, Kulik’s Shamus and Benton’s Late Show are the other stand-out films of the 70’s that revisit the 40’s private eye film and reinterpret it for their own time. The 40’s paranoia becomes 70’s cynicism and the made in studio picture becomes a location feature. All are very successful and worthwhile films, but Farewell is somehow the most perfect balance of style and revision, and is made more poignant by the presence of the aging Mitchum, who seems  a more world-weary version of Marlowe than he would as a younger man.

He also appears as Marlowe in Michael Winner’s 1978 The Big Sleep, an all-too-flawed remake of the nearly perfect 1945 Howard Hawks film of the same name with Bogie and Bacall. Winner’s film is mostly forgettable but for Mitchum, who tries his best but is undone by the director’s ineptitude and the film’s overdone approach to updating, so far as to set the film in England with an overly-jazzy score. Worth mentioning on this subject of The Big Sleep, the 1973 Buzz Kulik film Shamus, starring Burt Reynolds as private eye Shamus McCoy, has a great homage to the Hawks original. It’s a replay of the scene where Bogart stakes out the shop across the way and “whiles” away the afternoon with a nice young lady and a pocket bottle of rye, except no whiskey and much more sleazy talk. Really fun.

Both Mitchum films are in the non-DVD limboland, but Acme Video, the only place that cares, has them available for you to watch on cassette, so dust off your VCR.

Diane Keaton et Woody Allen, dans “Annie Hall“ de Woody Allen

J’ai regardé aujourd’hui deux films qui m’ont laissé perplexe sur un certain moment du cinéma américain. Prenez la fin des années 70 aux Etats-Unis : combien de grands cinéastes, combien d’acteurs incroyables et combien de films passionnants? Entre Stanley Kubrick, Woody Allen, Martin Scorsese et tant d’autres, on n’a que l’embarras du choix. Cette période cinématographique est une mine d’or.

Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977) et Kramer contre Kramer (Robert Benton, 1980), ne sont pas considérés comme des chefs-d’œuvres – et je partage cet avis. Du premier,Woody Allen,  Hannah et ses soeurs (1986) ou encore Manhattan (1979) sont bien supérieurs, tant la narration en est innovante. Du second, Robert Benton, on ne connaît presque que Kramer contre Kramer. Mais ces deux films sont les témoins d’un temps où les Américains écrivaient de formidables scénarios, où la plume était respectée à Hollywood, et où un film américain pouvait encore être raffiné et divertissant à la fois. Voilà deux histoires parfaitement ficelées, deux véritables modèles pour apprentis scénaristes, que, d’ailleurs, Robert MacKee (le grand gourou du scénario) prône comme exercice d’analyse dans son fameux guide d’écriture, Story (voir l’article consacré ici à cet ouvrage).

Dans le premier, Annie Hall, c’est la vie amoureuse du couple central Alvy Singer-Annie Hall qui les mène par le bout du nez. Les thèmes chers à Woody Allen, et qui vont être traités bientôt dans son oeuvre future avec brio, sont là : la psychanalyse, le manque de confiance en soi, l’individualisme, l’impossibilité de fusionner avec son amant, malgré l’envie qu’on en a. Là où n’importe quel scénariste américain d’aujourd’hui aurait écrit une histoire lourde et ultra-psychologisante, Allen nous livre un film sautillant qui, en prétendant à l’introspection, se contente de regarder la vie passer avec étonnement. Une promenade printanière avec ses averses tièdes.

Dans le second, Kramer contre Kramer, on traite finalement des mêmes sujets que dans Annie Hall, qui sont des thèmes liés au boom économique. Les femmes s’émancipent, travaillent et veulent s’accomplir. C’est pour cela que Joanna Kramer quitte son mari, qui la traite comme une vulgaire torcheuse de mômes. Et que Annie Hall se barre en Californie pour enregistrer un disque, laissant Woody Allen, le vilain jaloux, à New York. Si Kramer contre Kramer est un vrai drame et non une comédie comme Annie Hall, ce n’est pas pour autant que Robert Benton s’est fendu d’une tragédie familiale. Non. L’histoire avance en rebondissant sur des événements durs – le divorce, la bataille pour la garde de l’enfant, la perte d’un job – mais avec une douceur et une justesse qui sont celles de la vraie vie.

Un bon scénariste écrit évidemment de bons personnages truffés de paradoxes. C’est le cas chez Allen et Benton. Annie Hall (incarnée par Diane Keaton) est primesautière, intello, un peu gauche et s’habille comme un homme. Une trouvaille qui fera les riches heures de la mode “masculin-féminin”. Voilà un personnage de femme parfaitement exquis et sans trace de clichés. Ted Kramer (incarné par Dustin Hoffmann) est immature et légèrement macho sur les bords, mais pense qu’il est un winner absolu et un père parfait. La scène du pain perdu est une des meilleures scènes de caractérisation de personnage qui ait été écrite pour le cinéma. Dustin Hoffmann se lance dans la préparation d’un petit déjeuner pour son fils, alors que sa femme l’a quitté. Dans cette plantade totale, on ne voit plus qu’un homme désespéré et désemparé qui voit tout son système de pensée habituel ébranlé. Pas mal pour un French toast, non?

Alors, les Ricains, quand est-ce que vous vous remettez à nous faire des films comme ça? Sans prétention et pourtant si professionnels, et si réussis?

Et vous chers lecteurs, y a-t-il un film américain de cette période qui vous ait marqué? Je parierai que oui.

A good film held back by moments of moralization!

Written By: Robert Benton
Directed By: Robert Benton

I have heard people argue that Kramer Vs. Kramer doesn’t take sides, and I fail to see how that is the case. Kramer Vs. Kramer is a film that at various times firmly takes one side over the other. At times in the way it chooses to frame Tom it is clearly on the side of the father, yet at other times because of the way it chooses to show Joanna is is clearly on her side. A couple of moments in particular struck me as incredibly manipulative and just flat out bad cases of film making.

The first would be when Joanna is reunited with Billy. I don’t know how anyone can watch that scene and not feel like they are being manipulated by the film. The music hails it as a triumphant moment, celebratory music plays in the background, the camera makes sure to highlight Billy’s happy face as he runs. It’s as if the movie is telling us to forget all we have seen in the first hour, because now things are back to the way they should be and Billy is happy. My jaw almost hit the floor when that happened, because while I had issues with Kramer Vs. Kramer before that moment, that was the time when it became clear to me that in an effort to not take a side in the long run the film was randomly taking sides during its run time and hoping the audience wouldn’t notice.

The second moment that stands out is also one where I fail to see how people could view it as anything but the film taking a side. Tom is on the stand and he is given a soapbox moment, a moment where the film suspends reality to allow for him to make a speech in the courtroom that isn’t in the least bit believable. I actually agree with Tom’s speech, but, it didn’t belong in that moment or in a movie that wants to be as serious as Kramer Vs. Kramer. My jaw came closer to the floor, it didn’t hit, but it came an awful lot closer.

In the early moments of Kramer Vs. Kramer I was struck by the feeling that the film was glossing over important moments. I don’t believe it was actually doing this in most cases, but the film moved so fast that I was never given a chance to breathe, to truly acknowledge what I was seeing. You add this in with the moments I have described above and you are left with a film that strives too hard for the emotional moment but never quite achieves the emotion it wants because it won’t let the events transpire, it feels the need to manufacture one moment and then quickly move on to the next before it has any chance to register with the audience.

You might be wondering by this point if I have anything good to say about Kramer Vs. Kramer? I most certainly do, its main strength, and realistically the facet that props it up and saves it from falling apart under its own manipulations is the acting of Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep. When the camera isn’t trying to force them they are very natural and very real, the few times when the film slows its pace down and allows them time to truly emote you can feel for their characters and see the true depth that the actors are reaching for in their performances. I don’t want to go overboard in my praise, but there are some movies where the performances are strong enough to elevate uneven material to a better level, and Kramer Vs. Kramer is such a movie.

The sad fact is that there is plenty of truth in what Kramer Vs. Kramer presents. Child rearing is thought of as a motherly thing and it doesn’t matter how in the wrong the mother may be she will win over the father, just ask my roommate. But, Kramer Vs. Kramer eschews an honest portrayal of the realities of such a situation for attempts at taking each side at different occasions so as to appease everyone. The power of this issue needs to be presented amorally, not in the way that Kramer Vs. Kramer chose to go. Still, I would label Kramer Vs. Kramer a good movie based on the strength of its two leads alone. A massively uneven film, but a good one nonetheless.

Rating:

***

Cheers,
Bill

Title: Bonnie and Clyde
Year: 1967
Director: Arthur Penn
Writers: David Newman & Robert Benton
Starring: Warren Beatty, Faye Dunaway, Michael J. Pollard, Gene Hackman, Estelle Parsons
Music: Charles Strouse
Distinctions: Oscars for best supporting actress (Parsons) and cinematography; currently #213 on IMDb’s Top 250
Synopsis: an account of their bank-robbing career
How I saw it: on video (rented from Netflix), September 2008
Subjective Rating: 3/10
Objective Rating: 4/10 (gets points for dialog, pacing, acting and music)

It just sort of runs down a list of events with no story arc. The action scenes are the 60’s equivalent of a Michael Bay movie: tropes strung together with lots of noise. Boring and pointless.

Bad Company

by Robert Horton

About a decade ago the early 1970s were officially enshrined as the last golden age of Hollywood, especially (probably not coincidentally) by the filmmakers and critics who came of age during that time. This view has some nostalgia attached to it, and at times it distracts people from appreciating some of the important work being done right here, right now.

But an awful lot of good movies came out of that epoch, including smaller movies that — even at the time — were overlooked in the tide of Godfathers and Chinatowns. Here is an absolute gem: Bad Company, from 1972, the directing debut of Robert Benton. Written with Benton’s longtime writing partner and Bonnie and Clyde co-scribe, David Newman, Bad Company is the kind of Western that people were making at the time: revisionist, ironic, modern. Strangely enough, this particular revisionist Western is also full of its own beauty.

There’s not a lot of story. The time is the Civil War, and the hero is young Drew Dixon, an Ohio lad, played by Barry Brown. Hustled from home with his parents’ help (“When you get to a town,” mother advises, “you seek out the Methodist Church”), he is fleeing from conscription in the Union Army by heading west. (So many Westerns from this era were really about the Vietnam War, and draft evasion was a potent issue at the time.) Hoping to hook up with a wagon train in Missouri, Drew lands instead in the company — bad company it is, too — of a group of scalawags, “hand-picked for gumption.” They are led by the scruffy Jake Ramsey, played by Jeff Bridges.

This gang of self-styled outlaws heads west, and stumbles into one miserable situation after another. Most of the film is comically curved around the ineptitude of these supposedly bad hombres, but despite the humor Bad Company does conform to a particular vibe of the era; its de-romanticizing of the Old West is shot through with bracing shock tactics. For instance, a boy runs to an isolated farmhouse to steal a pie from the window sill; all is high spirits as the chickens scatter and he dashes towards safety. It’s plenty funny until, without having been prepared in any way for it, the top of his blond head comes bloodily apart, taken by the discharge from the farmer’s unseen shotgun.

There was a lot of that kind of thing in early ’70s cinema, dating from around the time of Bonnie and Clyde; not only were audiences not comforted and coddled, they were actively provoked. Yet the overall tone of Bad Company is not angry or self-righteous. What you’ll remember about this movie is the way its hard-bitten revisionism supports a genial, sympathetic appreciation of human beings. That, of course, is a hallmark of the subsequent directing work of Robert Benton, from Kramer vs. Kramer to the blissful Paul Newman vehicle Nobody’s Fool. As a neophyte director, Benton was remarkably poised; he captures the entire atmosphere of a frontier town, as well as a crucial change in fortune for Drew Dixon, in a single loooong traveling shot early in the film. The cinematography, by echt -’70s DP Gordon Willis, is muted and unfussy but somehow definitively modern throughout.

Benton also served notice of his talent with actors. Jeff Bridges, still very much at the beginning of his career (baby fat intact), is as unactorly and authentic as you could hope. Rotund David Huddleston contributes a pinpoint portrait of a dandy-ish bad guy, whose posse of henchmen (including redoubtable character men Ed Lauter and Geoffrey Lewis) is an unending source of embarrassment to him — there’s just a touch of Lex Luthor from the 1978 Superman there, a film Benton and Newman helped write. Evidently Huddleston’s performance is an impersonation of Joseph L. Mankiewicz, director of the Benton-Newman script There Was a Crooked Man. And John Savage made his film debut as one of Jake Rumsey’s crew.

But the person I always think of when I think of Bad Company is Barry Brown. He was a supremely likable and intelligent performer, and in this film he channels an upright James Stewart to Bridges’ junior John Wayne. Brown played one more leading role, in Peter Bogdanovich’s Daisy Miller (1974), another film that is overdue for re-evaluation; he was, superbly, a sad-eyed Winterbourne to Cybill Shepherd’s dippy Daisy. After that Brown pretty much dropped off the movie map, dying by his own hand in 1978, and for years his bio information in the Internet Movie Database has read, “Shot himself to death,” a blunt, slightly archaic sentence that might have come from Drew Dixon’s diary.

Drew’s gradual corruption — and, perhaps more importantly, his warming comradeship with Jake — leads to an abrupt ending that is just exactly right, in retrospect (compare it with the ending of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and work backwards, and you’ll see which film is more honest about its subject). From first to last, Bad Company is a classic.

Segundo o American Film Institute, os dez melhores são estes:

1. “O Sol é para Todos” (1962), de Robert Mulligan
2. “12 Homens e uma Sentença” (1957), de Sydney Lumet
3. “Kramer vs. Kramer” (1979), de Robert Benton
4. “O Veredito” (1982), de Sydney Lumet
5. “Questão de Honra” (1992), de Rob Reiner
6. “Testemunha de Acusação” (1957), de Billy Wilder
7. “Anatomia de um Crime” (1959), de Otto Preminger
8. “A sangue frio” (1967), de Richard Brooks
9. “Um Grito no Escuro” (1988), de Fred Schepisi
10. “Julgamento em Nuremberg” (1961), de Stanley Kramer

Everybody has been talking about this movie/series.

Will be showing on November 26, 2008. Watch out for it in CINEMAS near you.

Isabella “Bella” Swan moves from sunny Phoenix, Arizona, to rainy Forks, Washington, to live with her father, Charlie. She chooses to do this so that her mother, Renée, can travel with her new husband, Phil Dwyer, who is a minor league baseball player. In Phoenix she was a bit of an outcast, so it surprises her that she attracts much attention at her new school, and is quickly befriended by several students. Much to her dismay, several boys in the school compete for shy Bella’s attention.

When Bella sits next to Edward Cullen in class on her first day of school, Edward seems utterly repulsed by her. He even attempts to change his schedule to avoid her, leaving Bella completely puzzled about his attitude towards her. After tricking a family friend, Jacob Black, into telling her the local tribal legends, Bella concludes that Edward and his family are vampires. Although she was inexplicably attracted to him even when she thought Edward drank human blood, she is much relieved to learn that the Cullens choose to abstain from drinking human blood, and drink animal blood instead. Over time, Edward and Bella fall in love.

The seemingly perfect state of their relationship is thrown into chaos when another vampire coven sweeps into Forks, and James, a tracker vampire, decides that he wants to hunt Bella for sport. The Cullens plan to distract the tracker by splitting up Bella and Edward, and Bella is sent to hide in a hotel in Phoenix. Bella then gets a phone call from James in which he says that he has her mother, and Bella must give herself up to James at her old dance studio, to save her. She does so, and while at the dance studio, James attacks her. Edward, along with the rest of the Cullen family, rescue Bella before James can kill her. Once they realize that James has bitten Bella’s hand, Edward sucks the venom out of her system before it can spread and change her into a vampire. Upon returning to Forks, Bella and Edward attend their prom and Bella expresses her desire to become a vampire, which Edward refuses to let happen.

(http://www.wikipedia.com)

Stephenie Meyer has stated that the apple on the cover represents the forbidden fruit from the book of Genesis. It symbolizes Bella and Edward’s love, which is forbidden, similar to the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, as is implied by the quote from Genesis 2:17 that is quoted in the beginning of the book. It also represents the choice that Bella has, of partaking of the “forbidden fruit”, Edward, or choosing to not see him.

The Human Stain (2003) directed by Robert Benton is based on Philip Roth’s novel of the same name. We have Anthony Hopkins as the elderly college professor Coleman Silk – a man who carries around a pretty dark past and who has led most of his life based on a whopping big lie. We have Nicole Kidman, playing Faunia Farley, a woman in her thirties who several reviewers have described as leading a white trash existence… Frankly I think that is a pretty stupid characterisation. We have Gary Sinese, playing Nathan Zuckerman – Coleman’s friend and the narrative voice. We also have Ed Harris in the role of Lester Farley – Faunia’s ex-husband, a Vietnam veteran with some bad habits, a couple of tours of duty and a few madhouses behind him as well as a grudge. Young Coleman is played by Wentworth Miller, who does a good job and gets to wear the nicest suits.

Looking at the cast, the script, the original material and the time, money and effort I can’t help thinking this should be a better movie than it is. Stellar performance by Hopkins, as always. He plays the distinguished college professor of Classical literature who is shown at the very beginning giving a lecture on Achilles, the man who could not give up the girl, and then acts out that same tragedy without being all over the place. I think some of the choices he makes are very clever indeed, showing the emotional restrain of a man who has had to live a life of hiding his true identity and not act on his first impulse at every given moment. Kidman is nothing but emotion, which can get a little tiresome frankly. The ridiculously named character Faunia Farley talks to crows, thrashes kitchens and keeps the ashes of her two children in gold-coloured boxes under her Spartan bed. She swears like a sailor and works three jobs, all manual labour, claiming to have been brought up in a very wealthy home. As a sultry femme fatale she does a pretty good job, but I would have preferred a little more depth and a little less emoting wildly all over the place. Ed Harris is good at being the scary guy. It’s just a matter of walking on for him, with a face like that. Gary Sinese has the dubious pleasure of being the story teller, a writer living as a recluse in a cabin in the woods, telling other peoples stories rather than his own. There are moments of warmth and humor between Zucherman and Coleman that really add to this story, but then there is the rather thin voice over narrative that I feel is neither needed or particularily interesting.

Sidetrack: A bad voice over is always worse than risking a little confusion on the viewer’s part. We’ve got functional voice overs – I think this one falls in that category. But there are voice overs that add and deepen the story – Terrence Malick does that best, even if it sometimes just makes people angry. There are voice overs that just set the scene and then leave the viewer alone for the most part – like The Crow (1994). And when it doesn’t work we have the much debated voice of Deckard in Blade Runner (1982) which was taken out for the director’s cut version. It’s a good example of what happens when studio heads think the audience needs help – and that fake Noir never really worked for some reason. Wether it is diegetic or not, the voice over is clearly a breach of the fourth wall and that makes it extremely tricky to pull of. You have to understand who you are speaking to and try not to insult their intelligence.

Second sidetrack: Writers have a tendency to stick writers in their plot. Just working with what they know, I guess. It takes a special kind of talent to make an author interesting, we are basically dealing with a character who sits around observing events and then turning that into words on a page. Solitary exercises, typically done in a corner sitting on your arse. It can be done well, but that generally involves authors like Oscar Wilde, Shakespear, de Sade, Rimbaud or something like The Basketball Diaries (1995) or Naked Lunch (1991).

But I digress.

Coleman and Faunia have an affair, for lack of a better word, which is frowned upon by people around Coleman. Faunia seems to have no other human relationships, living in a void she herself has created. Coleman and Faunia have one thing in common – they can’t seem to get past their past. I don’t really respond well to Faunia’s stark hurt, thinking she should have learned to subdue some of the rawness of her pain because no one can burn like that all the time and not burn out. Coleman, on the other hand, reveals his secret towards the end of the film, and this is almost treated as an en passant, which I think is kind of odd. His whole life has been about hiding this lie and now it’s like “oh? really? let’s have some coffee…” And without spoling too much I can say that the deaths of the main characters is treated in a similar manner.

Main themes of this story are all deeply interesting things: racial concerns, mind/body dichotomies, youth/age, “action is the enemy of thought” as a basic premise of how to live you life, lies, past hurt, betrayal, friendship, love and so on and so forth. Maybe one of the reasons I keep feeling it could have been better, deeper, richer, darker and more subtle is because it tries to do all these things all at once. And that usually means you have to stay on the surface and just keep moving forward. The literary connotations are buried pretty deep, despite the closet reader being able to churn out some of the classical themes of Achilles and the siege of Troy and his well sung rage.

We are left with a film that focuses on the actor’s performances, which are all good, at the expense of the story. It’s well worth watching none the less and there’s food for thought, but over all I find it somewhat lacking in depth. It has the potential to be more than it is.

Mule

Dennis suggested that I post a few recommendations for films that readers of the blog might find fruitful. I hope that others here will find this helpful or at least of interest. I often post different lists (my own favorites as well as those of critics I admire and loathe) on my blog Toward an LDS Cinema.

I will give a disclaimer that may seem obvious to some and outrageous to the rest: we all have (thankfully) very different and (hopefully) active moral sensibilities, especially when it comes to media. This is healthy and a very good thing, in my opinion. However, this also means that if you read this list thinking that, because I consider myself a devout Latter-day Saint, you will not be offended by movies on my lists, you may be mistaken, just as I might be offended by movies on your lists. For example, I wrote in my last post here that many Disney movies and the messages they purport are offensive to me, and I’d never allow a great deal of them in my home.

I’ll give a short example. One of the most devout films I know of (American or not) is Robert Benton’s Places in the Heart. It speaks of a Christianity so purely visually that it is an example of the pinnacle of what the medium can accomplish if only placed in the hands of a devoutly gifted artisan. The film doesn’t flaunt Christianity, it rather cannot escape it. It is built into every shot and every situation. And its PG rating reminds us that parents should watch it with their children (it is a film that will lead to very powerful and needed questions from 6-year-olds and teenagers alike). Yet when it was shown several years ago for the example of ‘Transcendence in Cinema’ in BYU’s Intro to Film class, one person complained and called it vulgar and wrote several angry letters about it to the president of the university. There may be no other mainstream film (though you may not have heard of it — it stars Sally Field, among several others) more innocuous (even Ben Hur is described as homo-erotic) or more powerful to have ever shown Christianity. Yet this person called it vulgar. Why? Because Sally Field’s shoulders were showing while bathing in the film.

Now the first reaction is to judge or criticize. I hope we avoid that. This person’s mode for expressing their disapproval should be criticized and not their sentiment. Could Sally Field be considered immodest in this scene? I wouldn’t want myself or my wife to be in a scene this way, so I can’t criticize this person, though I strongly disagree with them. I just want to make it clear that I am not taking responsibility for you feeling ’safe’ with these movies.

Here is the French Language List. (Several of the films are not from France or some are from France but made by directors from other countries.)

Rosetta (1999) — This Palm d’Or winner (the most prestigious award in the world) is unlike anything that you have ever or will ever see in you life. It is a thriller of the highest order but in the grittiest realism I know. The filmmakers, the Dardennes Brothers from Belgium, spent the first 20 years of their career making documentaries. The thing that sets this thriller apart from anything else you’re likely to see (ever) has nothing to do with the intensity felt throughout or the (COMPLETE!) lack of music throughout the film or the refusal to demonize any single character or group of people. But what truly sets it apart is instead the fact that the main character’s goal is simply to find and keep a job. It is honest, fulfilling work that is praised above all else. It has not only impacted me but also legal officials in Belgium to such an extent that labor laws were actually changed as a direct result of them seeing the film. Can you say that about ANY other work of art? Please email me if you know of any.

The Son (2002) — Following suit with yet another Palm d’Or, the Dardennes Brothers made, in my opinion, an even more moving film that would make any psychologist/moralist/humanist take interest. The topic? Fatherhood — in one of the most unassuming and passionate displays of complex Christianity I know of. Attention lovers of Ayn Rand and Dickens alike. (I’ll also say that I spent the evening periodically weeping after my first viewing of this utter masterpiece).

A Man Escaped (1956) — This film is widely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made by one of the greatest filmmakers ever to have lived: Robert Bresson. The story tells of the escape of one man from a WWII prison. The film embodies simplicity, the definition of the modernist credo ‘less is more.’ Perhaps the easiest introduction to ‘transcendentalism’ in film is also the most profound illustration of a Catholic orientation toward the body and spirit — and the escape of the latter from the former.

To Be and To Have (2002) —A year spent filming in a French primary school reveals Nicolas Philibert to be by far the most Christian of all living filmmakers. A must-see for anyone interested in education, children, selfless devotion, or kindness, for that matter. The film imposes no emotion whatsoever; instead we are left with the images of the everyday goodness of one man. I’m convinced that no one can leave this film without becoming a better person. All the better to watch it often. Nearly inexhaustible.

The Gleaners and I (2000) — Agnes Varda is most often associated with the directors of the French New Wave and known as one of the world’s premiere female directors, yet in the United States she is mainly known as the widow of Jacques Demy and responsible for the restoration of his masterpieces (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort). This film, however, will make you wonder why you haven’t heard more about her. It’s true that Roger Ebert gave it 4 stars, but it received relatively little press in the States. Shot on hand-held video cameras, the film is a travel log of sorts and a philosophical meditation on gleaning, waste, poverty, and art. Varda’s film is filled with the observations of a mature artist in her fifth decade of film production. Yet her genius lies in her honesty about herself and her ability to relate to every one of her subjects, be they homeless, philosophers, lawyers, fanatics, rappers, punks, or psychoanalysts. Anyone concerned with law, poverty, inequity, French culture (or world culture for that matter), metaphysics, or political structure should take note. Perhaps my list is a bit long, but I truly love this film.

Beauty and the Beast (1946) — Visual splendor unlike anything else I know. This film, by poet, artist, as well as filmmaker Jean Cocteau (yes, The Cocteau Twins are named after him), is the truest example of a fairytale.

Time Regained (1999) — This film by Chilean political refugee Raul Ruiz is perhaps the greatest literary adaptation I’ve yet encountered. I’ll admit that I have yet to read Proust’s monolithic work, but sources I trust claim this to be the most faithful and artistic adaptation possible. For a large part of his career, Ruiz, whose films were only recently made available in the United States (despite his use of American actors like John Malkovich), averaged something like six films a year — a massive output only possible in France. This is a towering feat of mise-en-scene; not only is the graceful camera movement enchanting, but the set elements (lighting fixtures, furniture pieces, walls) refuse to stay put as well. This is not a fantasy, horror, or any other supernatural-based genre. The space in this (as well as others of Ruiz’s films) is simply constantly expanding and contracting. The scene is always swelling and brooding to compliment its high literature foundation.

Caché (2005) — Though this is Micheal Haneke’s most commercial release, I consider it to be his finest to date of the features I’ve seen. His view of the social-class rift seems most fair to me here though still stilted. His characters are most developed and his camera is most disciplined in this film. I’ve written much more about it on my blog, but it is my favorite commercial/mainstream release of the past several years.

Notre Musique (2004) — Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Colonization of American Indians, Destruction of Culture, Dante’s Divine Comedy, Levinas, War, Cinema, Heaven, Beauty. Jean-Luc Godard’s film is as coherent as my sentance was: at times it seems to lack action, yet it’s wrought with ideas. It is filled with beauty and profundity — but only for the extremely attentive. By far the most difficult film on my list by the world’s most difficult director. (This also means, at least at times, the most rewarding, in my mind.) On your first viewing, you probably won’t know what the film was about. It may seem like you get next to nothing, but it is a challenge well worth it, and its images will stay with you for a very long time. To view it and reap its fruits, you must either be extremely well versed in cinema or extremely intelligent. I’m closer to the first, so I don’t feel too bad about not being the second. But then again, it helps to be both.

The Children of Paradise (1945) — The textbook example of complexity of emotion. Both the literary classicist and passionate illiterate will find something here to fill the soul. Terry Gilliam, of Monty Python as well as the director of films such as Brazil, 12 Monkeys, Tideland, and The Brothers Grimm, has claimed it to be the greatest movie of all time. Its epic nature and delicate intimacy are as astounding today as they were 60 years ago.

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