My summer moviegoing experience so far has been limited, due to my limited funds and a general lack of interest in the films that are coming out. But occasionally we catch something we can't afford to miss (like A Scanner Darkly, review here) or run over to the budget theater to see something old and on the cheap...which explains why a couple of these films are coming out on DVD soon! Oh well. It's a three-star summer, from what I've seen, but hey, I haven't seen Little Man, so maybe the true masterpieces are just under my nose.
Inside Man (U.S., 2006) * * * 1/2
D: Spike Lee
Spike Lee "sells out" in what is actually one of the best films he's ever made. It's no Malcolm X or Do the Right Thing, but man, is it more focused and tight than Bamboozled. A heist film for adults, many of the critics said; I guess that's because you never really want the heist to end. You want the standoff to go on forever, because the cop (Denzel Washington), his partner (Chiwetel Ejiofor), and the robber (Clive Owen) are so much fun to watch. There's also Willem Dafoe in what's actually an extension of his performance in The Life Aquatic: another light comic role in which he subverts the Dafoe typecasting. The idea is that Owen is holed up in a bank with his fellow crooks and a slew of hostages, and Washington has to figure out why Owen seems too smart to attempt the purported scheme--a demand for a plane--and what the real scheme is. Seriously, I could watch Washington and Owen try to outthink each other forever. And there's such great character humor: Lee clearly loves New York, and wants to show every sort of person who would choose to live in the city post-9/11. In a clever twist, the film reveals that it's really about the nature of profiteering, as Jodie Foster's attorney and Christopher Plummer's banking CEO prove to be more immoral than the thief. Love the Bollywood music that plays during the opening and closing credits, too. How I wish all Hollywood thrillers were this smart.
Silent Hill (U.S., 2006) * * *
D: Christophe Gans
Yes, I even liked Silent Hill. Got a problem with that? Some people hate this film, and I sort of understand why. For one thing, Roger Avery, who co-authored Pulp Fiction, wrote the screenplay to Silent Hill, and Christophe Gans directed--his previous film was the delightful French genre hybrid Brotherhood of the Wolf (which answered the question: what if James Fenimore Cooper wrote a werewolf film set in Europe?). So expectations were high. For another, some of the dialogue is really bad, and the ending is frustrating and bizarre. But the ending is also original, as is much of the final act, which made me sit forward in my seat and wonder where the hell this new, brash, exciting horror film came from. It was certainly strikingly different from the mostly-bland beginning and middle, which depressingly sticks so close to the video game upon which it's based that the demonic, Clive Barkerish beasties get introduced as though they're the main characters. And much of the early scares aren't scary at all, since the CG is so transparently fake. But the atmosphere--whitish ash floating like snow in an abandoned mining town in an alternate dimension--is mesmerizing, and I love the gimmick of the siren that blares when everything's about to go black (literally--the screen goes black for several seconds, which is effectively chilling) and turn hellish. It just seems goofy that there are such strange, video-gamey clues for the heroine to follow, but I was impressed that the film actually offered an explanation for this and all the other film's gimmicks. The explanation comes in a flashback that looks like it comes straight out of a 70's Satanic exploitation film--it looks like it's been transferred to Super-8 and back again. There's actually a story to this film, and quite a lot of interesting ideas and subtext; the problem for many viewers is that you have to wait until the end to get it all, and I think many weren't paying attention by that point, or had left the theater. In fact, this is a really rare artifact: a good horror film. And twice as rare: it's based on a video game. Imagine how good it could have been if it weren't. A few little revisions to the script and it could have been a classic.
Strangers with Candy (U.S., 2006) * * 1/2
D: Paul Dinello
I used to love the Strangers with Candy TV show, which existed very briefly on Comedy Central around the same time that the mainstream media started taking notice of the show that preceded it, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Stephen Colbert was on both, appearing in Strangers as a married science teacher who's having a secret affair with the art teacher "with the mind of a child!" played by Paul Dinello. Both are credited with writing this feature spin-off, alongside the key creative force behind the concept, Amy Sedaris. Sedaris plays Jerri Blank, a middle-aged high school dropout who turned to prostitution and drugs, was thrown into prison, and finally returned home to find her father in a coma. She's told by a doctor (Ian Holm, for some reason) that the only way to help her father is to return to her old life, so she goes back to high school and tries to pick up exactly where she left off. The plot involves a school science fair, and it's all dispensable and padded; the important thing is that the project is a very, very close parody of 70's Afterschool Specials, and dispensing lots of very bad advice along the way. (Blank is a racist, prone to sudden violence, and comes on to everyone of either gender.) It's understandably a one-joke comedy, and the film doesn't really need to exist--the TV show got the job done--but it's still pretty amusing. For all of Sidaris' elastic contorting, the standout of the cast is actually Greg Hollimon, as Principal Onyx Blackman--sit through the ending credits as he gets the last laugh.
Superman Returns (U.S., 2006) * * *
D: Bryan Singer
Brandon Routh does an amazing impression of Christopher Reeve in this, positioned as the ultimate summer movie, but ultimately drowned by Captain Jack and the Pirates of the Caribbean. The fact that Routh looks and acts so much like the young Reeve of the first, Richard Donner-directed Superman--and that, in choice moments, Kevin Spacey's Lex Luthor is a dead ringer for Gene Hackman's--should tell you everything you need to know about Singer's approach. Singer worships Donner's film, and that's why this film exists. It's like someone from Ain't It Cool News got a chance to direct a Superman movie, so here's Marlon Brando reprising his role as Superman's father (thanks to unused footage from the first film), a scene in which Superman takes Lois Lane (Kate Bosworth) on a romantic night flight, and references a-plenty to just about everything in the prior film. He also pretends that III and IV never happened, and I do sympathize. But because of that slavish devotion to Donner, there's a plasticine quality to the film, and it never really comes to life in the way that Singer's X-Men films did. He's just too reverent, and thus too removed. But there are a few brilliant touches, like the close-up of Lois Lane's feet as she slips off her high heels to board Superman's boots, or the sheer majesty of Superman shooting into the sky to stop a plane set ablaze by a space shuttle's rockets. It makes up for the fact that the actors are just a little too young, that nonsensical Luthor plot and the plodding, unattractive final act.
X-Men: The Last Stand (U.S., 2006) * * *
D: Brett Ratner
The final X-Men installment fell to Ratner, director of the Rush Hour films, when Singer fled to Superman V. That's not as bad as every comic book geek the world-over dreaded. Ratner gets it mostly right, particularly in the film's final shot, which involves supervillain Magneto (Ian McKellan) alone in a park. And I also liked the romantic triangle between teenagers Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), Rogue (Anna Paquin)--who can't touch her boyfriend, or she'd kill him against her will--and cutie Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page), who passes through walls, and who was my crush as a kid, however pen-and-ink. It's true that there's too many characters by this point, and that the whole Dark Phoenix thing isn't nearly as interesting, or as complex, as it should have been. But Hugh Jackman is still the perfect Wolverine, and how sublime that he gets to fight alongside a gymnastic Kelsey Grammer (as Beast) in this one. It's not as self-reverent as Superman Returns, and so it's just a little more fun.
Pazar, Temmuz 16, 2006
A Scanner Darkly (U.S., 2006) * * * 1/2
D: Richard Linklater
After a quarter century of cinematic adaptations, they finally got Philip K. Dick right.
The first came out just after Phil's death, in 1982 (I'll refer to Mr. Dick as Phil, as most of his fans do--you read enough of his novels, which are so similar and so autobiographical, that you feel you know him); deeply sad, given that he spent his entire life struggling for some kind of monetary success. That film was Blade Runner. Based on 1968's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a novel about a police detective assigned to hunt down runaway androids--he tests them by using a device that detects the subject's ability to empathize, although his morals are complicated when he begins an affair with one of them--the film was about 25% Phil, 75% Ridley Scott. As a Ridley Scott film, it's eye-popping and mesmerizing, and certainly one of the most intelligent science fiction films ever made. It's not exactly Philip K. Dick, though. Early scenes mimic the book's dialogue directly, but key elements are omitted (electric sheep, the martyr Mercer on television), and the resolution, while it works for the film, draws an opposing conclusion about the difference between the human and the machine: Phil thought there was a concrete and important difference, Blade Runner blurs the line. The philosophical divide isn't detrimental to the adaptation, just interesting--but it's certainly not Phil.
The Schwarzenegger/Verhoeven action film Total Recall began a disturbing trend in Hollywood to adapt Phil's short stories rather than his novels, and by doing so, to pull just an idea of Dick's and then turn it into something more mainstream, less interesting. While Total Recall (from "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale"), when placed against the rest of Schwarzenegger's films, comes across like a David Mamet game of cons--whatever you think is real, isn't--and thus compares pretty favorably, you can't get around the fact that Phil never would have written a story with someone like the Governor of California as his protagonist. His heroes were middle-aged, divorced, out of shape, pill-popping schlubs not too dissimilar from himself. To keep the Mamet idea going, William H. Macy would be a much better PKD hero than Schwarzie. And a PKD hero wouldn't even know how to use a gun, though he might have some pointed at him.
1992's Barjo, a French film directed by Jerome Boivin, is actually based on one of my favorite PKD novels, Confessions of a Crap Artist (and Phil, while he lived, was always appreciated more in France than his home country). Crap Artist was the rare Phil "mainstream" novel (i.e., no science fiction elements) that actually got published in his lifetime. He always wanted acceptance outside of the SF genre "gutter," but publishers weren't interested. In many cases, the publishers were right: novels like UBIK, The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, and The Man in the High Castle are a lot more interesting than his studies of failed marriages, The Man Whose Teeth Were All Exactly Alike, Mary and the Giant, and Puttering About in a Small Land. But Confessions of a Crap Artist is fascinating and deserved to be set apart; adapted into a film, I'm not so sure. Barjo is fairly faithful, but struggles to emphasize that the source material was by a science fiction author, and so deliberately inserts fantasy elements toward the end. It would have been more interesting directed by Cassavetes. It's a forgettable film.
So is Screamers, based on one of the more popular Phil short stories, "Second Variety." A somewhat faithful adaptation, Screamers, starring Peter Weller, is a B-movie set in a war-ravaged world where machines of war are disguised as innocuous things--little girls, teddy bears--in attempt to lull the soldiers into a false sense of security. The machines attempting to adapt to the sympathies and emotional vulnerabilities of the soldiers is the key satirical element of the story, and it's here, but all awash in macho Aliens-inspired nonsense. Three more adaptations of PKD short stories shortly followed: Impostor with Gary Sinise, which began as a short film for an aborted anthology, then unwisely padded to full-length; Paycheck with Ben Affleck, directed by John Woo, who, in an interview, said he wanted to adapt Philip K. Dick because he really liked Philip K. Dick movies like Blade Runner and Total Recall (I think he also called Impostor a "novel"), which should tell you everything you want to know about this flop; and Minority Report, the most distinguished Phil adaptation since Blade Runner, and a pretty smart Steven Spielberg film...still, the film, to this viewer, seemed more like Spielberg's attempt to show how hard-edged he could be to refute all his A.I. critics, and it really had nothing to do with Phil's story, which was pretty minor PKD anyway.
Now, finally, we have another adaptation of a novel, with Richard Linklater's A Scanner Darkly. Phil's novels were so often miles ahead of his short fiction--the bulk of the latter written in the 1950's, as Phil tried to figure out how to handle the science fiction genre. His novels, such as Time Out of Joint, Martian Time-Slip, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, and the VALIS trilogy, are considered landmark novels that, with Heinlein and Bradbury, validated science fiction as a potential forum for great literature. (I don't enjoy Heinlein, but I'm just quoting the consensus.) A Scanner Darkly, published in 1977 but intensely written and revised for several years prior, is the beginning of the final phase of Phil's career, as he deliberately attempted to fuse his literary aspirations with SF. Phil's novels were so trippy and featured so many (fictional) drugs that fans often assumed he was a drug-advocating prophet like Timothy Leary; indeed, for a while in the late 60's, his life was not unlike that of the characters in Scanner--which must contain many autobiographical elements--as he lived with people half his age in Berkeley, pursued unobtainable dark-haired girls, and popped pills to keep himself writing through the night, because an advance from a publisher meant he could eat for another week. When he died in 1982 it was from a heart attack, but it's likely he would have lived much longer if he hadn't worn himself ragged with the drugs he consumed during the 60's, and Scanner is like a self-aware, self-written obit a few years before the fact. (In the epilogue, which is copied in the ending credits of this film, Phil includes himself in a list of drug casualties: "Phil, permanent pancreatic damage.")
Richard Linklater is best known for Slacker, Dazed and Confused, and School of Rock. His career is one of mainstream, crowd-pleasing films (such as the remake of The Bad News Bears) produced in order to fund smaller, riskier films (such as this one). The direct predecessor of Scanner is his film Waking Life, which was filmed entirely in live action with actor Wiley Wiggens (from Dazed) and a large cast of professional and non-professional actors--and some professors who were not acting at all, but simply lecturing--then animated the entirety in a computer using a rotoscoping process ("rotoscoping" is animating directly over live action, and dates back to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs). Each section of the episodic film, constructed to resemble a dream in which the protagonist is slowly becoming conscious, was animated by a different animator, giving each scene a distinctive character. I was lucky enough to see Waking Life at its premiere at Sundance in 2001. Linklater, visibly nervous, if not terrified, introduced the film by stating that those in the audience on drugs might appreciate it more than the sober ones. He revealed later that he had only seen the film in its finished state just before the screening at the Eccles theater; it was a last-minute deal and he was afraid it would be a fiasco. It received a standing ovation, and he seemed relieved when it was over.
At one point in Waking Life, Linklater himself appears, to recount a strange story of Philip K. Dick's--not one that Phil had written, but one that had supposedly happened to him. I saw this scene just a few minutes after thinking, "This movie is really like a Philip K. Dick novel." Then I knew that if Linklater ever adapted PKD, he'd be one of the few to get him right; he was tapped into the sensibility already, and had just announced himself as an admirer. I was sick of miserable film adaptations of forgettable short stories, and wanted something that really captured the semi-comic, paranoid flavor of PKD. It was announced a few years later that he would be doing A Scanner Darkly, and what I saw last night, when the film came to Madison, was almost exactly what I knew the film would be. The animation process of Waking Life, which has threatened to become a cliche given its mundane use in investment banking commercials, is a perfect fit for Scanner, giving everything a subjectively trippy, floating look, and underlining the fact that what you are seeing might not be real, because you're seeing it through a drug addict's eyes. The casting is perfect: you may not think much of Keanu Reeves, Woody Harrelson, Winona Ryder, and Robert Downey Jr., but they are perfect for these wasted, conspiracy-minded stoners.
I should back up: A Scanner Darkly is a novel about drug addiction, and the science fiction elements are few but essential. Narc "Fred" goes undercover as Bob Arctor, living with two unhinged addicts, Barris (Downey Jr.) and Luckman (Harrelson), while dating the frigid Donna (Ryder). Thing is, only the highest in the chain of command know that Fred is Bob Arctor; while in the office he wears a "scramble suit" which projects a kaleidoscope of different features, disguising himself from his fellow agents. And as a result, most of his fellow agents are convinced that Bob Arctor is the chief supplier of Substance D and the central target of their investigation. As an undercover agent, Fred/Arctor pops pills of Substance D (or "Death"), which slowly splits the brain into two hemispheres and turns them against each other. Eventually, Fred begins to forget that he's really Arctor, and as he reviews tapes of himself with Donna, Barris, and Luckman, he begins to forget that he's spying on himself. The final act of the film depicts a chilling deterioration, and, typical of PKD, characters that were seemingly helpless suddenly prove to be in command, if not directly puppeteering the protagonist.
Linklater's film is one of the most faithful book-to-film adapations ever made. If any criticism can be levelled, it's that it's not faithful enough, as absurd as that sounds. To those who haven't read the book, it might not quite come across that Fred is beginning to forget that he's Bob Arctor, and this moment occupies so little screen time that it lacks some of the impact it should have. (When you're reading a novel, you're constantly informed of a character's inner thoughts, which makes a book about split personalities so tricky to adapt.) But what's here is amazing. He captures the conspiratorial, inane, funny but unnerving conversations among the mentally unhinged, almost word for word from the book. (My wife just read it, so with the book fresh in her mind, she was able to confirm this.) Phil, like his characters, had a way of super-analyzing a moment or an idea beyond reason, until it either fell apart or turned against itself, and I've never seen that captured in a film as it is in A Scanner Darkly. The animation eerily looks like live action most of the time--Reeves looks like Reeves, etc.--and although it justifies the medium less often than Waking Life did (the scramble suit being the most spectacular use of animation), the overall queasy look of the film is essential to the point of view of Agent Fred/Bob Arctor. In fact, this is probably not a film you want to watch when you're sick; it could only exacerbate the problem.
While Charlie Kaufman (writer of Being John Malkovich and Adaptation) wrote a screenplay based on Scanner, I don't regret his absence from this film. As much as I admire his work, Kaufman would be better suited for any other Phil novel--put him on VALIS, please. And according to a recent interview, Scanner was not Linklater's first choice, but wanted to adapt something else by PKD. In fact, he's perfectly suited for the material. Scanner, the book, does have some traits in common with Linklater's films Slacker and Dazed and Confused; they both have minimal action and quite a lot of talking about nothing. Linklater understands the SoCal world of the lethargic addicts, hanging out on sofas talking about bicycle gears, or testing out homemade silencers in the backyard. Kaufman is almost too anxious for material like this. He would speed everything up, cut it to pieces and reassemble it in a different order. That's why he's better suited for VALIS, a novel in which Phil was doing that to his own life, and inserting science fiction into the mix in attempt to make sense of it all.
Watching this with an audience was deja-vu; it was like watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas on its opening day. Terry Gilliam's film was another adaptation of a book that was supposed to be impossible to adapt, and he took a similar approach: be rigorously faithful. Both films and books focus on hallucinating, paranoid narrators you cannot trust to tell the straight story. And both audiences were baffled, kind of turned-off for the most part--except for a few who knew they were witnessing the birth of a cult film, and something they'd need to watch repeatedly to better appreciate it. Give Scanner a few years, and watch the audience multiply like imaginary aphids.