Short Rants on The Artist

"It was cute." This was the only thing I could come up with after my filmgoing companion asked what I thought of The Artist last week. Believe me, I tried to come up with other adjectives, as "cute" is not something I'm normally comfortable with in the movies I watch, but words absolutely failed me this go-around. And I'm not exactly sure why because it's not as if I hated anything about The Artist. The whole thing is so lovingly created with such a keen eye for the mechanics of silent movies. From the obvious things to the cinematography to the subtle things like the title cards and the casting, Michel Hazanavicius understands how silent movies, particularly ones of the commercial nature that The Artist is paying tribute to, move and feel. It may not sound like much, but it's an incredibly hard feat to pull off. I'm particularly impressed with the casting of Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo as the two leads. It would have been easy for Hazanavicius to cast two French stars, say Louis Garrel and Eva Green, with international name recognition. Instead, he chose two actors who may not be as popular but would be far easier to see in a silent film circa 1927. The leading men of the silent screen were, more or less, not the pretty boys we see today. Pattinson, Lautner and Efron never would have been as big as they are today. The rugged, dashing, masculine, slightly older Dujardin, however, is the perfect fit for the Male Star archetype in 1927 Hollywood cinema. Bejo, so utterly charming, spunky and full of life, particularly in her early scenes, is the It Girl of silent cinema (Much in the same way many people will tell you that Michelle Williams is Marilyn Monroe in My Week With Marilyn. But I digress). 

At some point, however, all the technical proficiency and attention to detail in the world cannot hide the content of a film. I don't have a problem with the lightness of The Artist. In a way, it's actually refreshing that a lighthearted romp such as this is earning critical accolades and deafening Oscar buzz. It gives me faith that people still understand that good films aren't necessarily the ones that are either the most serious or feel the most "important." But The Artist does not offer much beyond its nostalgic feelings. Not to diminish the technical accomplishments of the film, but what does The Artist bring to the table that many fun, frivolous, high quality commercial silent films from MGM in their heyday didn't already? The Artist is fantastic if you have never seen a silent movie before, or if you thought that all silent films were as deadly serious as The Birth of a Nation or "highfalutin" as Potemkin, Greed or Metropolis. But to those of us who have already taken an interest in the silent era, it is more of an homage than a revelation. In the grand scheme of things, The Artist, although there's nothing explicitly bad about it, is more of a paint by numbers than an original painting. B

DeMille's Modern Ten Commandments

"Mom sent over a picture of herself for your new place."

"Where will you hang it up?"

Cecil B. DeMille was not particularly known for comedy but I think the best bits of his silent version of The Ten Commandments, including the above moment between laughing sinners Danny (Rod La Rocque) and Mary (Leatrice Joy), is the comedic interplay between these two actors and Danny's "good" brother John (Richard Dix). DeMille has a surprising knack with actors in his over-the-top silent melodramas that you never saw in the larger-than-life historical epics he was more widely associated with. He gets a lot more out of the excessive stylization of his actors in films such as The Cheat or The Godless Girl than he ever got out of Charlton Heston pretending he's Moses in his later version of The Ten Commandments. The silent version of The Ten Commandments is the perfect opportunity to see this difference as the film is split into two sections, one set in Biblical times and the other in "modern" (1920's) times. The Prologue depicts Moses leading the Hebrews out of Egypt and the accompanying hedonism that leads God to strike down his Ten Commandments. There's really nothing surprising about this section of the film. Everything from the wide shots capturing every last bit of the massive set to the vague, "let me just waive my arms wildly in the air and that will get any point across" style of acting the actor who portrays Moses decided to use was old hat when Griffith employed that style in Intolerance seven years previously. The modern half, which tells the story of a devoutly religious mother and her two sons--one a believer, the other not so much, is where DeMille really gets a chance to do something interesting with the material. For what is more or less a morality play, this section is surprisingly tongue-in-cheek, mostly due to La Rocque and Joy's performances. What is perhaps even more surprising is the fact that a story which involves leprosy, a church that falls on top of someone and kills them and an exotic and alluring half-Chinese woman who precipitates La Rocque's major downfall can be so dramatically hefty. It's laughable but it also works and that's a combination only DeMille could get away with. First Half: C-, Second Half: B+

Sometimes I'm a Total Sap

Running the Gamut from B- to B+

Hoosiers (David Anspaugh, 1986): Charisma. Some actors have it, some don't. Will Smith is often cited as one of those who has "it," but I find that he doesn't have a hundredth of the personality and screen presence that someone like Gene Hackman regularly has. In a film like Hoosiers, the classic tale of a small town high school basketball team making it all the way to the state finals, no acting in the general sense of the word is really required. The passionate, inspirational coach archetype relies mostly on an actor with a strong personality, and Hackman has that in spades. Feisty and headstrong, he makes Hoosiers a pleasure to watch, fighting against the townspeople who don't think he's an adequate coach in the same way his team fights all the way to the finals. Everything about Hoosiers is simple, which works to the film's advantage as it doesn't have to worry about over-the-top dramatics and wayward plots distracting from the central David and Goliath story. Director David Anspaugh works wonders at creating tension and excitement in the basketball games, even when we already knew the outcome. My only major complaint with the film is how it doesn't incorporate the team and their individual personalities into the narrative. This is especially problematic when it comes to the character of Jimmy, the star athlete who eventually saves Hackman's position at the school by deciding to rejoin the team if they will keep him as the coach. When he does rejoin the team, the team starts winning and rallying toward their eventual championship. By presenting him as the team's saving grace, however, Hoosiers seems to undermine its main point that Hackman is the one who brings this team together. We never really understand Jimmy's motivation nor what he brings to the team that Hackman couldn't. Jimmy's selfishness in the final moments, wanting to make the winning shot after Hackman suggests that they pass the ball to someone else to fake out the other team, goes against everything Hackman has taught them during the course of the film. By going along with it, Hackman and Hoosiers make a fundamental mistake that they were both too wise to make in the first place. B-

Un Prophète (Jacques Audiard, 2010): By the end of Un Prophète, I was convinced that we had already found the most overrated film of the year. Not that there was anything bad about Un Prophète specifically, rather, I couldn't figure out why this simple prison drama with traces of a top-notch Scorsesian gangster film was so universally acclaimed. The film isn't a social commentary on the inhumanity of prisons or the sociological reasons why people become prisoners. Actually, on the surface, Un Prophète's closest descendant is the 1950 prison drama Caged in which Eleanor Parker comes into prison a good girl and methodically works her way out a morally dubious woman. With this odd list of influences, none of which the film does better than average with, I was ready to write Un Prophète off. Then, Jose patiently explained to me the films many influences (Albert Camus, for one) and symbolism (a lot of Muslim imagery and idolatry)--many of which are outlined in his stellar review here--and all the adoration and praise started to make sense. But this is precisely where Un Prophète's problem lies: what good is all of the symbolism and referencing if you can't make heads or tails of them while watching? I respect Audiard's balls in making a film which doesn't even attempt to catch you up and explain what his images mean, but I shouldn't be expected to be a scholar in Camus or the Qur'an to get the deeper meaning. Although I now understand and respect why all of Un Prophète's admirers are so passionate about the film, I simply can't stand back and admit that this one wowed me. B

The Vanishing American (George B. Seitz, 1925): If you think African Americans and gays have it rough in Hollywood, try looking at the history of Native Americans in the movies. Back during the Golden Age, they were nothing more than wild savages ready to get shot down by the hero in a Western. Once the era of political correctness came in, aside from Sacheen Littlefeather, Native Americans were pretty much non-existent except for the occasional indie film. Knowing this history, it is surprising that The Vanishing American, a film that not only shows the hardships of the "modern" Native American but has the balls to blame white Europeans for these hardships, was made and well-received in 1925. The film begins with a bit of visual history about where the Native Americans came from and how they came to be in the situation they are today. It's a bold move, but the time spent here shows the audience how these first people in America were here for generations upon generations before any white people showed up to steal their land. We then move to the modern day story, which takes place on an Indian reservation out West. Nophaie (Richard Dix), one of the most respected Native Americans on the reservation, begins a will-they-or-won't-they relationship with a white schoolteacher, but this is hardly the strength of the film. The Vanishing American's assets lie in the fact it presents such a progressive view of history and contemporary issues to the point that even in 2010 it's hard to find any faults in logic or ideology. Everything feels as fresh as if it were made today and that's not easy to say from a period of film history which also brought us The Birth of a Nation. B+

To All My American Readers Who Get Turner Classic Movies (TCM)

I hate to exclude any of my international readers, but this news is only applicable to those in America. Late tonight/early tomorrow morning, from 2:15 to 4:30 am, TCM will be airing the MGM silent romantic war epic The Big Parade. Why should you care? Here are my four main reasons:

1. It's one of my 10 favorite movies EVER.
2. This is the first time TCM has aired the movie since I originally saw it five or so years ago.
3. The film is not available on DVD, only on a hard to find VHS.
4. If you remember from a couple months ago when I posted my film log from the Silent Era, I included The Big Parade as the second best film of the entire era (just behind Keaton's Sherlock, Jr.) and also mentioned that leads John Gilbert and Renée Adorée gave two of the best performances during that time period. In fact, I went on to elaborate that Gilbert indeed gave the best male performance.

Enticed yet? If you're not, I don't know what else I could short of flying to your home and recording it on your TiVo for you. Truly, I hope that a few of you give The Big Parade a chance and fall in love with it much like I have. Be sure to let me know what you think!

Silence is Golden

If you head on over to the Diva's Film Screenings page, you'll see a brand new film log for the Silent Era. I decided to lump all of the films between the beginnings of cinema and 1926 for two reasons: 1) I've only seen 57 films (from what I can remember) from this period and who wants to look at a page with 2 or 3 movies on it and 2) So many films from the silent era are either lost, damaged beyond repair or unavailable on DVD that it would be nearly impossible for me to gather an interesting year by year look (at this moment anyways). I absolutely love silent movies; if there's one "genre" that needs a revival in the 21st century, it has to be this. Wouldn't you just love to see what directors like Alexander Payne, Fernando Meirelles, David Lynch or (oddly) Woody Allen could do without dialogue? And who would object to the beauty of movie goddesses like Nicole Kidman, Dame Judi Dench, Meryl Streep and Natalie Portman perfectly enhanced by the power of a stunning close-up by a great cinematographer?

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think that my Top 10 list is an unarguably great one from the films I have seen (I realize I'm still missing some biggies from this period...tell me what I need to see immediately in the comments). Silent comedy legend Buster Keaton makes three appearances with two masterpieces (the metaphysical Sherlock, Jr. and the adventure comedy The Navigator) and one underrated "regular" film (the boxing comedy Battling Butler). In my mind, Keaton and Charlie Chaplin (who has one film- The Gold Rush- in the Top 10 and two just outside) are indisputably the icons of this era. Without them, I don't know if I ever would have gotten interested in silent films and, consequently, I would have missed out on one of the most unique and fascinating times in movie history.

As an added bonus, I included my 10 favorite short films (which I think I need to do more research on since Chaplin and Keaton make up half of the list) and my favorite male and female performances of the era. I didn't pick a favorite, but if I had to, I think I would go with:

John Gilbert in The Big Parade and Lillian Gish (pictured with, coincidentally, John Gilbert) in La Boheme

The Big Parade was silent heartthrob John Gilbert's breakthrough and, as often as he tried in the future, none of his other performances ever came close to matching this one. He plays the romantic lead of this WWI epic, but unlike the cold, "masculine" romantic leads he played later on in his career, he's warm, inviting, charming and incredibly sweet. His performance is something we very rarely, if ever, saw in the silent era and one that more people need to see to prove that he wasn't just another pretty face. Lillian Gish, a D.W. Griffith favorite back in the day, was always at the top of her game and La Boheme is just one of her many fantastic performances. What stands out for me is that final deathbed scene where she looks as close to death as I've ever seen any actor in any film (and with good reason- she apparently starved her self for days to look that way...I guess she was the silent era's version of Christian Bale).

As always, here's a poll so I can hear your feedback about my picks. Plus, if you have any suggestions on films or actors I need to see, let me know in the comments.

Online Surveys & Market Research

He Link She Link

I've never done one of these "link round-up" posts before, but I figure now is as good of time as any to start. Here's what I'm reading online:

New York Magazine has this great article about Gossip Girl and took the words out of my mouth about why the show is spectacular and a must-watch every week. They also have a fantastic Q&A with the one and only Spike Lee (Do the Right Thing, Inside Man) who's still complaining about Driving Miss Daisy winning the Best Picture Oscar in the same year Do the Right Thing came out. Gotta love him!

PopWatch Blog has discovered what is possibly the greatest thing ever found on YouTube: Cher, during a 70's TV special, playing every single part in West Side Story! You have to see it to believe it.

My New Plaid Pants rounds up The Boys of Summer for us to enjoy. My my, it's getting warm in here!

Speaking of summer, Life Sprinkes loooooooooves ice cream

The Superficial discusses the new children's book My Beautiful Mommy (about mommies who get plastic surgery) with their usual snark and wit.

StinkyLulu offers the latest Supporting Actress profile in preparation for 1953's Smackdown: Grace Kelly in Mogambo. I've personally never seen the film, but I've never really understood the appeal of Grace Kelly. Sure, she was pretty sexy in Rear Window, but from the films I've seen she's never showed a lot of acting talent. Even Marilyn Monroe did it a few times.

Tom O'Neil at Gold Derby has been receiving a ton of shit for his latest "review" of the 1927 film Sunrise, one of the most influential silent films of all time, in which he simply dismisses it as "schmaltzy" and "smothered in Cheez Whiz." This article wouldn't be so bad if O'Neil was some anonymous blogger like myself, but this guy is the leading critic for the L.A. fucking Times. He should offer more than just a dismissive paragraph about it's story and not mention at all its poetic visuals, which is the most important part of the movie. Christ, where's Roger Ebert when you need him? And any idiot that proclaims The Jazz Singer to be their pick as what should have won the Best Picture Oscar in 1927-28 over Sunrise, The Circus and The Crowd (which I would have gone for) is seriously a complete fucktard.