Terry's Grade: B+
Fred Astaire plays John "Lucky" Garnett, a dancer and a gambler who's about to give up performing to marry his sweetheart. But after he misses his own wedding, he sets off for New York in order to make his fortune and come back and re-claim his fiancé. He is accompanied by his faithful companion "Pop" (Victor Moore), who performed card tricks in Lucky's old stage show. In New York, Lucky starts performing with a dance instructor named Penny (Ginger Rogers); the two eventually, inevitably, fall in love. Also along for the ride is Mabel (Helen Broderick), the former receptionist at Penny's old dance school, who ends up as Pop's companion after recognizing the usefulness of their gambling skills.
Fred Astaire is a very famous name, but when I think about it, I don't really know if I've seen him in (m)any other movies. Ditto for Ginger Rogers. Looking at his IMDB page, I've probably seen his spots in The Towering Inferno and on Battlestar Gallactica (I'm pretty sure I've seen all the episodes of that show but that was a long, long time ago). Astaire and Rogers made nine films together, apparently, and I have to assume that this is considered the best of them all. When or if I'll ever see another one is uncertain, but I can't say I'm opposed to the idea.
In the latter half of the movie, there's comes a romantic scene with Astaire and Rogers that should leave the audience kind of giddy, but that emotional high gets killed immediately when Lucky starts applying his makeup for an impending blackface song-and-dance routine. I suppose that a modern audience should be able to contextualize a scene like this and not be offended by it, but it still kind of spoils the mood, and reminds us of the truism that it's impossible for an audience separated by the better part of a century to appreciate a work of art in the same way it was appreciated by a contemporary audience. I always try to bring an open mind when watching older movies, but that's not always enough. To make things even more awkward, we have to watch blackface-Astaire through several scenes following the song before his character has a chance to clean up. Also, the one actual black character in the movie is pure stereotype, but fortunately is only on scene for a few seconds.
There are some classic songs I didn't realize were in this movie: A Fine Romance is the highlight, but the first song we get to enjoy is Pick Yourself Up ("You pick yourself up // dust yourself off // and start all over again"), another standard. I've never considered myself a huge fan of musicals, but when the songs and performers are solid like this, they can be pretty enjoyable.
In the end, there isn't much to say for this movie. It's got good songs, good dancing, and good singing, and some of the jokes still manage to be funny 75 years later. Plot-wise, there are no surprises, but that's not really why you watch a movie like this. If you're me, you watch this movie because it's on a list of movies somewhere that people say you ought to see. And if you're me, you don't feel like you wasted your time on this one.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Catching Up
I've been way behind on posting here, and I think I need to just get some stuff down before it's completely out of my memory. Each of these films deserves a full post, but given my current budget of free time, they're not gonna get them.
Singin' In The Rain (1952): A+
This movie is wonderful; intensely colorful, with great music, great sets, and extraordinary performances by Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. I've got a full review on hold, so I'll put the rest of my thoughts there and post it.
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951): A-
Stanley Kowalski is a hunk. Too bad he's an asshole. This is a movie to watch with the windows open and a cold beer on a hot, humid, summer day. I'd completely forgotten about Karl Malden's love-hate-able role as Blanche Dubois' would-be fiancé, which should be a crime. Also, Tennesse Williams really was great at writing one-apartment plays, wasn't he? There's a reason this film is considered required watching in the civilized world.
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939): C
I don't understand this movie at all; it's basically a propaganda film for America and the Boy Scouts. If you want to learn how congress works, watch I'm Just A Bill. If you want to see a Jimmy Stewart movie, watch Rear Window or Philadelphia Story. I'm seriously baffled why this movie shows up on lists of great movies. It's a kids' movie about politics. Really.
It Happened One Night (1934): B+
This is the first (and so far only) movie I've seen with Clark Gable in it, and I genuinely look forward to seeing more. I have some questions about this movie, though. Namely, I wonder why Gable's character has two pairs of pajamas packed in his single hard-shell suitcase. Is it purely for plot reasons, so he can loan a pair to Claudette Colbert, or is that just how people rolled in the thirties? Also, after Philadelphia Story, this is the second movie I've seen where a lower-class character lectures a higher-class character on the proper way to dunk a doughnut. I don't know... I don't pack one pair of pajamas, let alone two, when I travel, and I don't give a solitary fuck about dunking doughnuts. Maybe that's just me.
City Lights (1931): B
I am always going to get this movie confused with Modern Times. I just have to remember that Modern Times is the good one, and this is the not-so-good one. But I do like Charlie Chaplin movies, it turns out, so even the bad ones are worth watching.
The General (1926): B-
I don't understand this movie. Apparently it's a comedy? With hardly any jokes? The only scenes worth watching are the one where Buster Keaton repeatedly tries to enlist in the confederate army, and the one where a bridge collapses and dumps a train into a river.
The Gold Rush (1925): B-
It took us three days to finish this movie, and I'm not sure why other than the fact that it's just not really a gripping story. But there are some classic, really funny, scenes in this movie: the shack gets blown around, so that the door opens up out into a crevasse; and one of the prospectors gets so hungry that Charlie Chaplin starts looking like a roasted chicken. Sadly, as usual Charlie Chaplin falls in love with a girl that doesn't deserve him, but they end up together in the end so I guess it's a happy ending? Also, some of the opening footage is fascinating to watch; it plays like documentary footage of the Alaskan gold rush, even if it was staged for production of this film.
Singin' In The Rain (1952): A+
This movie is wonderful; intensely colorful, with great music, great sets, and extraordinary performances by Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. I've got a full review on hold, so I'll put the rest of my thoughts there and post it.
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951): A-
Stanley Kowalski is a hunk. Too bad he's an asshole. This is a movie to watch with the windows open and a cold beer on a hot, humid, summer day. I'd completely forgotten about Karl Malden's love-hate-able role as Blanche Dubois' would-be fiancé, which should be a crime. Also, Tennesse Williams really was great at writing one-apartment plays, wasn't he? There's a reason this film is considered required watching in the civilized world.
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939): C
I don't understand this movie at all; it's basically a propaganda film for America and the Boy Scouts. If you want to learn how congress works, watch I'm Just A Bill. If you want to see a Jimmy Stewart movie, watch Rear Window or Philadelphia Story. I'm seriously baffled why this movie shows up on lists of great movies. It's a kids' movie about politics. Really.
It Happened One Night (1934): B+
This is the first (and so far only) movie I've seen with Clark Gable in it, and I genuinely look forward to seeing more. I have some questions about this movie, though. Namely, I wonder why Gable's character has two pairs of pajamas packed in his single hard-shell suitcase. Is it purely for plot reasons, so he can loan a pair to Claudette Colbert, or is that just how people rolled in the thirties? Also, after Philadelphia Story, this is the second movie I've seen where a lower-class character lectures a higher-class character on the proper way to dunk a doughnut. I don't know... I don't pack one pair of pajamas, let alone two, when I travel, and I don't give a solitary fuck about dunking doughnuts. Maybe that's just me.
City Lights (1931): B
I am always going to get this movie confused with Modern Times. I just have to remember that Modern Times is the good one, and this is the not-so-good one. But I do like Charlie Chaplin movies, it turns out, so even the bad ones are worth watching.
The General (1926): B-
I don't understand this movie. Apparently it's a comedy? With hardly any jokes? The only scenes worth watching are the one where Buster Keaton repeatedly tries to enlist in the confederate army, and the one where a bridge collapses and dumps a train into a river.
The Gold Rush (1925): B-
It took us three days to finish this movie, and I'm not sure why other than the fact that it's just not really a gripping story. But there are some classic, really funny, scenes in this movie: the shack gets blown around, so that the door opens up out into a crevasse; and one of the prospectors gets so hungry that Charlie Chaplin starts looking like a roasted chicken. Sadly, as usual Charlie Chaplin falls in love with a girl that doesn't deserve him, but they end up together in the end so I guess it's a happy ending? Also, some of the opening footage is fascinating to watch; it plays like documentary footage of the Alaskan gold rush, even if it was staged for production of this film.
The Hunger Games (2012)
Terry's Grade: C
I don't read a lot, really, so I don't often see movie versions of books I've already read. Hunger Games does illustrate some of the problems those movies face, though; in translating page to screen, it's important to make the transition from telling to showing. The script to this movie is true in every major way to the novel, and this might be one of its biggest problems. It's almost omission by inclusion; every character gets his time on screen (no matter how briefly), and as a result hardly any characters get their due. A book has the leisure to fill in background and explain motivations; on the screen, we get only what we see.
Halfway through the movie, I was convinced that director Gary Ross didn't have all the necessary tools to direct a feature film. The story starts in the poverty-stricken, coal-mining District 12, then quickly moves via high-speed rail to the wealthy, narcissistic, over-styled capital of Panem. Both of these settings provide wonderful opportunities to illustrate the post-apocalyptic dystopia that Susanne Collins has created, and the art department doesn't disappoint; aside from a few wooden telephone posts and an electric fence, District 12 looks like 19th-century Appalachia, down to the hand-stitched dresses worn by the coal miners' daughters. And in the capital, every single individual has his or her own unique color palette--blue ponytails, gold eyeliner, purple suits, and facial hair trimmed to millimeter specifications. But it's extremely hard to appreciate the set design through Tom Stern's hand-held-camera shudders, close-zoom pans, and the unrelenting two-second-cut editing. When capital guards forcefully separate our heroine from her family, I don't want to see a close-up of a leather glove: I can get that anywhere (like on a Spinal Tap album cover). I want to see the juxtaposition of a white-uniformed, well-fed, soldier and a broken-down mother and her two starving children. By "juxtaposition", I mean put them all on the screen at the same time, dammit. These shots are so over-edited, it makes the movie feel cheap, as though the director is trying to hide something. It's a style that doesn't match the budget, or the subject.
In a way, these are some daring directorial decisions; the formula in a movie like this would be to start off slow, emphasizing the quietness and simplicity of home life before before building up to the shock and excess of urbanity and finally the furious brutality of the games. Paradoxically, the over-editing of the first act gives the opening of the movie a plodding feeling. Every scene feels the same, and the audience isn't given a chance to develop any emotional investment in the characters and their circumstances. The problem with daring decisions is that sometimes they just don't pay off.
Fortunately, things get much better after the games start, when the subject matter finally catches up with the director's style. Curiously, at this point we also start to see a directorial range that was lacking in the first forty-five minutes. When Katniss is stung by a "tracker-jacker" wasp, she is thrown into a hallucinatory stupor, stumbling through the wilderness like a hippie on acid, and having flashing back (in one of the few scenes that manages to strike an emotional note) to the death of her father in a coal mining accident. And when a fellow tribute and ally dies, the film slows just long enough for Katniss to lovingly decorate her corpse with wildflowers.
As a fellow film-goer noted, the makers of this film didn't really have to work hard in order to get the fans out to the theaters. But I seriously wonder if they've worked hard enough to get us to come back for parts 2 and 3. On a radio interview, I heard Jennifer Lawrence joke that her character would be played by Hillary Swank in the future. In the same interview, Lawrence discussed her hesitation to take on a role that had the potential to define her entire career. For her sake, I hope she isn't remembered for being Katniss Everdeen. She's a good, maybe great, actress, but it's slight praise to say that she's the best part of a mediocre movie.
Is this thing over yet?
I don't read a lot, really, so I don't often see movie versions of books I've already read. Hunger Games does illustrate some of the problems those movies face, though; in translating page to screen, it's important to make the transition from telling to showing. The script to this movie is true in every major way to the novel, and this might be one of its biggest problems. It's almost omission by inclusion; every character gets his time on screen (no matter how briefly), and as a result hardly any characters get their due. A book has the leisure to fill in background and explain motivations; on the screen, we get only what we see.
Halfway through the movie, I was convinced that director Gary Ross didn't have all the necessary tools to direct a feature film. The story starts in the poverty-stricken, coal-mining District 12, then quickly moves via high-speed rail to the wealthy, narcissistic, over-styled capital of Panem. Both of these settings provide wonderful opportunities to illustrate the post-apocalyptic dystopia that Susanne Collins has created, and the art department doesn't disappoint; aside from a few wooden telephone posts and an electric fence, District 12 looks like 19th-century Appalachia, down to the hand-stitched dresses worn by the coal miners' daughters. And in the capital, every single individual has his or her own unique color palette--blue ponytails, gold eyeliner, purple suits, and facial hair trimmed to millimeter specifications. But it's extremely hard to appreciate the set design through Tom Stern's hand-held-camera shudders, close-zoom pans, and the unrelenting two-second-cut editing. When capital guards forcefully separate our heroine from her family, I don't want to see a close-up of a leather glove: I can get that anywhere (like on a Spinal Tap album cover). I want to see the juxtaposition of a white-uniformed, well-fed, soldier and a broken-down mother and her two starving children. By "juxtaposition", I mean put them all on the screen at the same time, dammit. These shots are so over-edited, it makes the movie feel cheap, as though the director is trying to hide something. It's a style that doesn't match the budget, or the subject.
In a way, these are some daring directorial decisions; the formula in a movie like this would be to start off slow, emphasizing the quietness and simplicity of home life before before building up to the shock and excess of urbanity and finally the furious brutality of the games. Paradoxically, the over-editing of the first act gives the opening of the movie a plodding feeling. Every scene feels the same, and the audience isn't given a chance to develop any emotional investment in the characters and their circumstances. The problem with daring decisions is that sometimes they just don't pay off.
Fortunately, things get much better after the games start, when the subject matter finally catches up with the director's style. Curiously, at this point we also start to see a directorial range that was lacking in the first forty-five minutes. When Katniss is stung by a "tracker-jacker" wasp, she is thrown into a hallucinatory stupor, stumbling through the wilderness like a hippie on acid, and having flashing back (in one of the few scenes that manages to strike an emotional note) to the death of her father in a coal mining accident. And when a fellow tribute and ally dies, the film slows just long enough for Katniss to lovingly decorate her corpse with wildflowers.
As a fellow film-goer noted, the makers of this film didn't really have to work hard in order to get the fans out to the theaters. But I seriously wonder if they've worked hard enough to get us to come back for parts 2 and 3. On a radio interview, I heard Jennifer Lawrence joke that her character would be played by Hillary Swank in the future. In the same interview, Lawrence discussed her hesitation to take on a role that had the potential to define her entire career. For her sake, I hope she isn't remembered for being Katniss Everdeen. She's a good, maybe great, actress, but it's slight praise to say that she's the best part of a mediocre movie.
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