From its opening scene, we can see that "Inglourious Basterds" is going to be a different kind of Quentin Tarantino movie. It's an encounter between Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), a member of the Third Reich known as the "Jew Hunter," and a French farmer harboring Jews. Much of the dialogue is spoken in French. Deprived of his native tongue, Tarantino reverts to simple, formal dialogue which aptly underlines the tension running through the scene. He's relying on storytelling rather than verbal wit. The scene also draws strength from a couple of other more "conventional" filmmaking strategies: terrific acting and an effective instrumental on the soundtrack. Waltz delivers a monologue which is all the more disturbing because of his pleasant demeanor. Then, as he identifies where the Jews are hiding, frenzied strings arise to amplify the horror of what is to come.
The underhanded, classical approach to the scene is a big departure for Tarantino, who frequently relies on pop songs for his soundtrack and mediocre actors for his cast. He seems to understand that a World War II story cannot be delivered entirely tongue-in-cheek.
Yet "Inglourious Basterds" is still unmistakably a Tarantino production; no one else could have made this film. Following the opening scene, we meet the titular bastards, nine Jewish soldiers led by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt), a Tennessee native who demands 100 Nazi scalps from each of his recruits. Pitt is almost a comical version of Humphrey Bogart in this movie; he's supposed to be the calm tough guy, but his lines make him more of a cartoon character.
After a scene introducing the Basterds, told with Tarantino's typical verve and energy, we meet Shosanna, who escaped Landa in the opening scene and went on to open a movie theater under a new name. Through a series of events, a Nazi propaganda film is slated to premiere at her theater; she plots to burn the building down with top Third Reich officials inside.
These plot developments come out a little slowly, but from here things start to take off. The British instigate a separate plot to blow up the theater during the premiere, and enlist the Basterds to help them pull it off. It all leads to a gruesome set piece which would fall apart in the hands of a lesser filmmaker.
What gives the second half of the movie its strength is that it's told chronologically. Again, this may seem like an elementary approach, but it's different for Tarantino, who likes to jump back and forth in time. He used this method strategically to great effect in "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction," but since then his films have seemed to bounce around at random. As a result, his works have been more a series of great scenes, rather than great films. Here, however, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. As usual, Tarantino's overflowing gifts are all on display in "Inglourious Basterds," but he has harnessed them here to create his first great film since "Pulp Fiction."
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Slap Shot
Lurking within "Slap Shot" is an idea for a good movie. Unfortunately, it's buried under so much clumsy screenwriting and filmmaking that one can't really appreciate that conceit.
Paul Newman stars as Reggie Dunlop, the player-coach for Charlestown Chiefs, an independent league hockey team whose future looks about as bleak as the economic prospects of the Pennsylvania steel town in which it plays. The club is losing game after game and is set to fold at the end of the season.
But predictably, redemption awaits. After the club acquires the Hanson brothers, three players whose style consists of knocking their opponents' heads off, Dunlop hits upon a new strategy. Soon the Chiefs are savagely going to fisticuffs with foes, sometimes before the game has even started. They ride this tactic all the way to the championship game (in the film's skewed universe, violence leads to victories, not ejections).
This may not sound like a promising set-up. But the film does offer a couple of interesting perspectives on the anti-hero. First, "Slap Shot" forces us to root for a team pursuing a strategy which even they acknowledge at times is unfair. Second, Dunlop is possibly an even bigger jerk off the ice; even as he's trying to persuade his estranged wife to return to him, he's convincing another player's spouse to live with him.
However, all of this undone by two major blunders. First, the film is far too slow in setting up the premise and dwelling on the Chiefs' new violent tactics: it takes 45 minutes for the Hanson brothers to even take the ice. A half-hour could easily be cut from this film. It would be much tighter and stronger for it.
More seriously, "Slap Shot" is a comedy which is painfully unfunny. The screenplay seems to mistake coarseness for wit. Thus, the characters drop references to masturbation, lesbianism and private parts and are forced to pass them off as jokes. The filmmakers also seem to think that violence is inherently humorous. But there's a big difference between a punch in the face and genuine slapstick.
It's a shame, because "Slap Shot" offers some rich ironies in its denouement. This could have been one of the great anti-hero films of the '70s. Unfortunately, it was too interested in being a mediocre sex comedy.
Paul Newman stars as Reggie Dunlop, the player-coach for Charlestown Chiefs, an independent league hockey team whose future looks about as bleak as the economic prospects of the Pennsylvania steel town in which it plays. The club is losing game after game and is set to fold at the end of the season.
But predictably, redemption awaits. After the club acquires the Hanson brothers, three players whose style consists of knocking their opponents' heads off, Dunlop hits upon a new strategy. Soon the Chiefs are savagely going to fisticuffs with foes, sometimes before the game has even started. They ride this tactic all the way to the championship game (in the film's skewed universe, violence leads to victories, not ejections).
This may not sound like a promising set-up. But the film does offer a couple of interesting perspectives on the anti-hero. First, "Slap Shot" forces us to root for a team pursuing a strategy which even they acknowledge at times is unfair. Second, Dunlop is possibly an even bigger jerk off the ice; even as he's trying to persuade his estranged wife to return to him, he's convincing another player's spouse to live with him.
However, all of this undone by two major blunders. First, the film is far too slow in setting up the premise and dwelling on the Chiefs' new violent tactics: it takes 45 minutes for the Hanson brothers to even take the ice. A half-hour could easily be cut from this film. It would be much tighter and stronger for it.
More seriously, "Slap Shot" is a comedy which is painfully unfunny. The screenplay seems to mistake coarseness for wit. Thus, the characters drop references to masturbation, lesbianism and private parts and are forced to pass them off as jokes. The filmmakers also seem to think that violence is inherently humorous. But there's a big difference between a punch in the face and genuine slapstick.
It's a shame, because "Slap Shot" offers some rich ironies in its denouement. This could have been one of the great anti-hero films of the '70s. Unfortunately, it was too interested in being a mediocre sex comedy.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay
"Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" was a joyless wisp of a film, a stoner ramble that barely even bothered to make jokes, let alone funny ones. The sequel, "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay," is a major improvement, if not quite a good film.
The film picks up right where the first one left off. Kumar is now on a mission to reach Texas and win back his ex-girlfriend, who is about to marry an upper class twit. Along their journey, he and Harold visit a whorehouse with Neil Patrick Harris (playing a bizarre version of himself, as he did in the first film), smoke pot with President Bush and, yes, escape from Guantanamo Bay.
They wind up there after Kumar boards a plane with a bong, which is mistaken for a bomb. A nitwit Homeland Security official played by Rob Corddry is determined to bring them to justice. Corddry's blatant racism gives the film an opportunity to explore racial profiling. While the jokes here are never subtle, they are effective; Corddry assumes that Harold and Kumar are North Korean and Arab, respectively (he's wrong on both counts) and hires an interpreter to speak to Harold's American-born parents. The film also examines racism in other contexts, observing that stereotypes are often false but sometimes all too true.
Of course, "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay" is still filled with flaws. Predictably, the direction is lousy and the acting is overly broad. There are also still some of the bizarre moments that made the first film so awkward, such as a one-eyed inbred boy chasing the heroes through a basement. Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, who wrote both films, still need to realize that carnival freak shows are not a good source for comedy. Nonetheless, their sequel is a step in the right direction.
The film picks up right where the first one left off. Kumar is now on a mission to reach Texas and win back his ex-girlfriend, who is about to marry an upper class twit. Along their journey, he and Harold visit a whorehouse with Neil Patrick Harris (playing a bizarre version of himself, as he did in the first film), smoke pot with President Bush and, yes, escape from Guantanamo Bay.
They wind up there after Kumar boards a plane with a bong, which is mistaken for a bomb. A nitwit Homeland Security official played by Rob Corddry is determined to bring them to justice. Corddry's blatant racism gives the film an opportunity to explore racial profiling. While the jokes here are never subtle, they are effective; Corddry assumes that Harold and Kumar are North Korean and Arab, respectively (he's wrong on both counts) and hires an interpreter to speak to Harold's American-born parents. The film also examines racism in other contexts, observing that stereotypes are often false but sometimes all too true.
Of course, "Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay" is still filled with flaws. Predictably, the direction is lousy and the acting is overly broad. There are also still some of the bizarre moments that made the first film so awkward, such as a one-eyed inbred boy chasing the heroes through a basement. Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, who wrote both films, still need to realize that carnival freak shows are not a good source for comedy. Nonetheless, their sequel is a step in the right direction.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Nashville
"Nashville" is a sprawling masterpiece, touching on just about every juicy topic you can think of: money, politics, fame, religion, sex, and plenty more. You won't find a better encapsulation of America in the 1970s.
However, it is a hard film to describe. "Nashville" follows 24 characters over the course of five days in the titular city. Almost all of them are at least tangentially connected to the country music industry. Some are also involved in the campaign of Hal Phillip Walker, a "Replacement Party" candidate for president. We never meet Walker, but we frequently see a campaign van driving through town, spouting his populist bromides. The action culminates with a rally for the candidate which features two of the country stars we've met earlier.
Nashville is the perfect city to capture America's irrational, can-do optimism. In one scene, singer Connie King implores a few children to study hard in school, since anyone can grow up to be president.
But the film spends more of its time examining America's seedy side. Its characters tend to be hypocritical cynics, reflecting the nation's post-Watergate mood. (Actually, this has always been a dominant feature of American history. We became a superpower in part by herding Native Americans like cattle.)
The amazing thing about "Nashville" is that it never feels indulgent, despite running over two and a half hours and pulling in seemingly every topic it can fit. The credit here is owed to director Robert Altman. He films with a clinical eye, eschewing close ups in favor of shots that utilize his excellent sense of framing. He's also not afraid to suddenly cut away from a scene, once he's made his point.
The odd thing about "Nashville" is that it could easily be a half hour longer or shorter without gaining or losing much. None of the scenes are essential, but they frequently feel that way, and that's all you can ask of a film.
However, it is a hard film to describe. "Nashville" follows 24 characters over the course of five days in the titular city. Almost all of them are at least tangentially connected to the country music industry. Some are also involved in the campaign of Hal Phillip Walker, a "Replacement Party" candidate for president. We never meet Walker, but we frequently see a campaign van driving through town, spouting his populist bromides. The action culminates with a rally for the candidate which features two of the country stars we've met earlier.
Nashville is the perfect city to capture America's irrational, can-do optimism. In one scene, singer Connie King implores a few children to study hard in school, since anyone can grow up to be president.
But the film spends more of its time examining America's seedy side. Its characters tend to be hypocritical cynics, reflecting the nation's post-Watergate mood. (Actually, this has always been a dominant feature of American history. We became a superpower in part by herding Native Americans like cattle.)
The amazing thing about "Nashville" is that it never feels indulgent, despite running over two and a half hours and pulling in seemingly every topic it can fit. The credit here is owed to director Robert Altman. He films with a clinical eye, eschewing close ups in favor of shots that utilize his excellent sense of framing. He's also not afraid to suddenly cut away from a scene, once he's made his point.
The odd thing about "Nashville" is that it could easily be a half hour longer or shorter without gaining or losing much. None of the scenes are essential, but they frequently feel that way, and that's all you can ask of a film.
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