Oh God, I feel alone. I feel so utterly alone having connected and clicked with a film that many people will reject. This being the directorial debut of the incomparable screenwriter Charlie Kaufmann: Sĭ-něk’də-kē, Nyoo Yawrk. For me, Synecdoche, New York is a tough sell - an unconventional film I genuinely treasure where recommendation demands cautiousness. It’s where I stand with Béla Tarr’s Werckmeister Harmonies (2000), Lars Von Trier’s Breaking The Waves (1996), Bill Forsyth’s Housekeeping(1987) and Robert Altman’s Three Women (1977). These films fly in the face of all the formulaic and commercial creeds of how a movie should work and gives pause for how many ways it could work best. A first impression might twist its face, conclude “it’s weird” and close the investigation - that’s their right; however, Synecdoche, New York deserves better and a meritable audience. The film works, not despite, but because of its extraordinary structure and function being mysterious, opaque, labyrinthian, yet emotional, accessible, and fully-formed.
What I love most about Charlie Kaufman’s exercises in the celluloid medium is how exceeds expectations throughout his most unorthodox and dizzying narratives. Throughout, there is apt teasing and suspense over where this story could go when driven by such a madcap. By the end, I feel as if he has wrung out every playful possibility from his premises. There is also an attentive heart on display that transcends palpable human yearning. Such as when the pitiable Craig Schwartz whose puppets of himself and Maxine, a distant female co-worker, kiss for the first time in Being John Malkovich (1999). Or when Joel Barish frantically races away from his evaporating memories with his ex-girlfriend Clementine at hand, trying to save her in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004). Or how about when in Adaptation (2002), New Yorker writer Susan Orlean is struck by the awesome poetry of John Laroche, a toothless orchid thief, musing about the “little dance” between wasps and orchids - “How, when you spot your flower, you can’t let anything get in your way”.
In Synecdoche, New York, our hero tries to find meaning in his existence by resurrecting an evolving metropolis in a gigantic sound-stage where a flock of birds fly off many miles down the structure. The seminal replica of Manhattan is a theater set for a play forever untitled about its director and all of the people in his life. Since the play reflects life, so the play must reflect itself like a microcosm that expands, refracts, grows and deepens. It is a comic-tragic, universal illustration of a life that tries to manage its surrounding citizens in roles (wife, daughter, mistress, 2nd wife, ect.) the participant tries to contain. Of course, everyone else is the lead in their own story, so management of the play of one’s life becomes discombobulated.
Enter the world of theater director Caden Cotard played with great nerve and without vanity by Philip Seymore Hoffman. At year forty, he is mired with anxiety, bad health, failed relationships, and occasionally distracted by lofty goals that feed his great ego which barely hides his low self-esteem. Like an addict, he mercilessly prods, analyzes and compresses his failures; denying himself a much wanted recovery by purging himself deeper into a sea of emotional toxin. What hurts the most is that he tries so hard to preserve what little he has left. While a doctor sews stitches into his forehead after a freak accident with an exploding sink faucet, Caden sheepishly replies “I’d rather there not be a scar”. Ailments arrive and roost inside him at an alarming rate. Every checkup by one doctor leads to the discovery of another problem (”Your pupils don’t work”) and the recommending of another doctor for it. Caden’s body with its cramps, bleeding gums, pustules of ooze, and strange bumps consistently fails him with a vengeance. If his body were a temple, the city council would demolish it in favor of clearing the real estate for a shiny high rise. A man this sick cannot be happy and cannot really live. But for all his flaws and succumbs to temptations, he tries.
Life at home is just as damaging. Married to Adele, a moody and exacting painter who specializes on canvases so small that she and her patrons require magnifying goggles to make out the beautifully rendered figures. Her proposed all-night task of packaging her work for her Berlin exhibition is a gut-buster. Catherine Keener (again opposite Hoffman in Bennett Miller’s Capote back in 2005) makes such a strong impression as Adele with her stringy hair, a tattooed breast, and a haggard complexion verging on exasperation that her absence later is deeply felt. The character is richer because Keener manages to exude compassion and comfort within what a lesser actress would make one-note and abrasive. It makes sense why these two flawed and ambitious people would have tried to make a life together with their four-year-old daughter Olive (Sadie Goldstein).
Just about everyone is sick here. Adele coughs a lot, even in voice-over when a letter by her is read. Olive protests about her wastes being a disquieting colour that her mother insists on being oblivious to. Caden and Adele’s flaky, stone-faced couples counselor Dr. Madeleine Gravis, played by scene-stealer Hope Davis (American Splendor, 2003 - Is Harvey Pekar around here?), has red and white blisters irritated by her sleek, black high heels; even the leggy blonde is flawed. Deliberate attention is made to the deterioration of the human body weathered by age and disease. Vulnerably and mortality is emphasized with the perplexing passage of time; months, even years pass within minutes. Going from the bathroom on September down the stairs to the kitchen, it’s October. Where did the time go? What happened with my life!? Has it really been six months!!? Six years!!! Conversations with the Cotard family feel rushed, overlapping dialogue, even precious moments with Olive feel short lived instead of cherished. Fasten your safety belt, this film will give you whiplash.
Madeleine commits the foreseeable scam that all best-selling shrinks must, inspiring others to recall Richard Dreyfuss’ Dr. Leo Marvin in What About Bob? (1991). It doesn’t help that Adele dismisses Caden as an artist since he works with previously adapted material, while overlooking his radical realization of the play Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. In an instant, Caden has lost his family abroad, romances sparks from the advances of Hazel (Samantha Morton, Morvern Callar - 2002), a middle-aged buxom box-office girl to his young, leading actress Claire (Michelle Williams, Wendy and Lucy - 2008), and Adele’s manipulative friend Maria (Jennifer Jason Leigh, Last Exit To Brooklyn - 1990) has sensationally corrupted Olive, AND Caden wins the MacArthur Genius Grant surmountable freedom, financial security and infinite time pursue his most ambitious work of art! Such a grant would be evidence enough to place this film in the fantasy genre. ThenCaden’s next project gets personal.
Synecdoche, New York knows what it is to be so painfully conscious, so agonizingly aware of your circumstances that you feel belittled and judged; objectivity just gives you a better view of your own bad performance. There is something creepy and almost sickly undercurrent throughout the film. Kaufman resists explaining away the strange materializations (eg. the fire house) and warped time-line as the result of Caden’s mentally unstable reinterpretation of the world. What Kaufman is suggesting is even scarier and more immediate than placing his story in the safety zone of “it was all a dream”. Yes, every surreal and miraculous thing that is happening before us on the screen is reality. If our perception is illusory and concrete, then it is possible for the real world to be represented with the weight barren in a dream, but nightmarish in its network of logic.
Yes, Caden can be a self-absorbed (Claire is the one who figures out Hazel’s situation for him) and occasionally pretentious. Just look at Hazel’s expression as she awkward sips her drink while Caden talks of his play where “we are all in the same primordial blood stream” (I’m paraphrasing here, I’ve only seen this movie once). Everywhere he goes, he sees himself in advertisements, and as a character in a deranged cartoon Olive is watching. From a first-person account, doesn’t everything seem to be informing us - ME! - only and directly? Caden is not always valiant, but he is always curious and regrets. A flawed protagonist is required as a launching pad for those who must relate to and not genuflect the subject. This is from someone who made self-deprecation look like fun: “Charlie Kaufman! Fat! Bald! Repulsive! Old! Sits at a Hollywood restaurant with Valerie Thomas!”Caden finds out later that Adele “wants joyous and healthy people (in her life)” in a way that is impersonal and devastating. Only a shallow turkey could dismiss sympathy for Caden - I’m looking at you, Ben Lyons! Appearing on the gutted remains of At The Movies, Lyons smiles like slime when he piously calls Caden “The most pathetic individual to ever exist!” Has Ben Lyons ever left his bubble?
During a lunch outside with Hazel, one of the few times Caden is serene, she feeds him lines to woo her. He enjoys taking her dictation; playing his character instead of being himself. This scene foreshadows near the end of the film where Caden takes direction by the sound of a woman’s voice. Here, too, he is also serene. Kaufman again delivers a variety of role plays, bizarre transformations and comic scenarios includingbravado turns by Tom Noonan (Snow Angels, 2008) as a stalker who is hired to play his stalkee and Dianne Weist (Edward Scissorhands, 1990) as an actress who plays the only character Caden has ever made up. There is a brilliant inside joke by casting Emily Watson (Hilary and Jackie, 1998), as arresting as ever, as the stage version of Morton’s Hazel. One time Samantha Morton auditioned for a role and the director complimented her performance in…Hilary and Jackie: awkward.
The same twisted and delicious logic of Kaufman is on display here like the way in Adaptation, a screenwriter’s life is threatened at gunpoint by the very characters he rewrote and corrupted to make his script more commercial. For almost the past decade, Charlie Kaufmann’s scripts have turned into some of my most treasured experiences in a movie theater. I was with Being John Malkovich every step of the way: “What happens to a man who goes down his own portal?” “We’ll see!” That directorial debut of Spike Jonze - who also played the fourth leg of a table called Three Kings that year - was a near-perfect comic-tragedy that I continue to genuflect.
The music used in the Being John Malkovich (and the WALL-E) trailer(s) is from the 1984 Terry Gilliam film Brazil; the track entitled The Office is by Michael Kamen. Come to think of it, Kaufman’s direction is rather Gilliamish. Synecdoche, New York is compacted with strange objects and idiosyncratic details - that pink Christmas present of Olive’s was not an accident: it’s memorable. The set design alone of the city spectacle with the indomitable blimp flying overhead inside the warehouse is a Terry Gilliam wet dream. The score for Synecdoche, New York by composer Jon Brion is high-strung and whimsical with occasional alien notes. There are some playful musical cues of angst near the beginning that pay homage to Brion’s edgy track Hands and Feet(instruments included xylophone, hammers and duct tape) from P.T. Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love (2002). A musical number by Brion for Punch Drunk Love is in the same vein as the sleepy piano ballad Little Person sung by jazz vocalist Deanna Storey. What a smokey and poignant song.
From Little Person:
Somewhere, maybe someday,
Maybe somewhere far away,
I’ll meet a second little person,
And we’ll go out and play.
Here We Go:
There are visual clues throughout Synecdoche, New York, one of the most crucial shows us a digital read-out of 9:44 in the beginning of the film and a brick wall with spray-painted clock-hands pointing to 9:45. Life is so fleeting that could very well pass within a minute. We can’t trust our eyes, but feelings are another matter. Again, the best way to exercise this film is to take everything at face value. Synecdoche, New York shows us that the unexamined life is not worth living, but that a life worth living means enduring a great deal of pain. Because the grim subject matter is approached with an open and searing heart and a great sense of humor, the film is not depressing. I felt exhilaration and joy over the ambition, scope and warm intentions against the dying gray light. For better or for worse, death is being relieved of yourself. It not only depends on the skin you’re inside of, but whether the ends are met.
(This is the first of many past due reviews…consider it us catching up on movies we haven’t reviewed yet. Enjoy)
Directed by: Judd Apatow
Starring: Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl
Rating:
In the time between Knocked Up’s release, and this review, Judd Apatow has become a type of household name for most film-goers. His name attached to a release will guarantee it a certain place on the box office charts. That all began with Knocked Up. Knocked Up is a comedy of sorts that chronicles the clusterfuck that is Ben and Alison’s relationship. They meet at a club, and imbibe too much alcohol and end up having sex that is well…rushed. A few weeks later, it becomes evident to Alison that Ben lied about using a condom, and she is pregnant. Now, the storyline sounds like it would promise almost endless laughs as Ben tries to shirk his duties, or talks to his friends (played by Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, Martin Starr, and Jason Segel) about his conquests. That is where you would go wrong. Don’t get me wrong, Knocked Up has funny parts, but it is more of a romance then a comedy.
As the film progresses and becomes more mature, Ben has to decide whether he wants to keep his easy life working on a celebrity nudity site and smoking pot, or whether he wants to try to keep the girl. It follows the stereotypical path of the pothead who is afraid of losing his lifestyle, then realizes that other things matter more in life. The acting is all very solid, with the standouts being Paul Rudd (as Pete, Alison’s brother-in-law) and Leslie Mann (as Alison’s sister). Their marriage is on the rocks, and while their relationship is an exaggeration made for comedic effect, they play it as if they were a married couple. If there is one thing Judd Apatow has proven with this movie, it is that he is in touch with emotions and the intricacies of relationships. Every character in the film, no matter how ridiculous they may seem could actually be a real person, and the emotions they display are nothing short of perfect.
Knocked Up is a predictable movie, from the moment the movie starts you know what has to happen. But that is not a bad thing. It has shown that it isn’t trying to be anything special. Apatow was not trying to invent any new genres, or set the bar for comedies to follow (see Superbad) but rather trying to make the best movie he could, and he succeeded. While Knocked Up may not be the funniest ever, it is all in all a solid film that gives you a happy feeling in the end, something that lets you know, things could really be worse.
No! This not another merger-bastardization of the Ridley Scott/James Cameron enterprise. It’s a CGI feature from Dreamworks that comes in ATOMOVISION! - correction - INTRU3D!
It is directed by Dreamworks devotees Rob Letterman (Shark Tale, 2004) and Conrad “Gingerbread Man” Vernon (Shrek 2, 2004).
Watching this reminds me of a Brad Bird feature that was “Bold! Dramatic! Heroic!” Let’s just hope Monsters VS Aliens isn’t another hobo suit. Another denominator is that the score sounds like a low-rent Beetlejuice score.
However, any movie that features a United States President that looks and sounds like Stephen Colbert has my vote - “Hail To The Cheese!”
Others lending their voices are Seth Rogen (Zach and Miri Make A Porno, 2008) , Paul Rudd (The Shape of Things, 2003), Hugh Laurie (House M.D. was in Spice World, 1997) and Reese Witherspoon (Freeway, 1996) as Susan the Fifty-Five Foot Woman - insert Shrinking Lover quip from Pedro Almodóvar’sTalk To Her (2002) here.
Voices by: Ben Stiller Chris Rock David Schwimmer Jada Pinkett Smith Sacha Baron Cohen
Rating:
In a post WALL-E world, it is hard for an animated movie to get by with sub par animation and a less than adequate plot line. This is a memo that DreamWorks and Co. must not have gotten. Madagascar 2 passes the bar set by the first, but not by a very high margin. The first film’s animation seemed like they had taken the easy way out, saving on production time and budget. The second film continues the poor animation but tries to pass it off as a stylistic decision rather then a time saving measure. At the very least, one would have expected the textures to be of a higher quality then those used in the first, they had three years to work on it. Three years not well spent.
The film starts off with the characters on Madagascar waiting for their escape plane to launch them back to New York. Things go wrong, and they end up falling down to…Africa. The story progresses from there in a very predictable plot arc, Alex’s (Ben Stiller) part of which is very reminiscent of The Lion King, almost too much so. Saying that the storyline is horrible would not be totally fair, as they have come a long way since the first in 2005.
One of the most aggravating parts of the first film, the lemurs, were thankfully almost absent from this film, with the sole exception of King Julien (voiced by Sacha Baron Cohen). His scenes were some of the best parts of the film, and were funny without being gimmicky like he and his clan were in the first film. The rest of the voice acting in the film was solid, but none of it outstanding. Alec Baldwin’s scenes as Makunga were a nice shoutout to all the adults in the audience, making it easier to digest.
Madagascar is going to be a long standing franchise, as evidenced by the announcement of Madagascar 3 long before this film was finished, and I believe that Madagascar is a maturing franchise, one that will take many years and sequels before they can be enjoyed by anyone over the age of 6. Hold on, and wait for Madagascar 6, because Madagascar 2 is borderline unwatchable.
When I went into Role Models, I was assuming that it would be a trailer fake (a movie whose trailer is awesome, but the movie well…isn’t). After a few months of let downs (read The Rocker) no one would fault me for thinking that. Let me make this official, I was wrong. Role Models is about two underachievers who find themselves in a situation where to avoid jail, they agree to volunteer for 150 hours at a Big Brothers Big Sisters type organization. Neither wants to be there, but Sean William Scott’s character provides some convincing reasons for going through with it. Danny (Rudd) gets paired with Augie Farks, played by Christopher Mintz-Plasse who almost breaks out of the role he set for himself in Superbad, a geek obsessed with a real life Medieval role playing game called LAIRE. Wheeler (Scott) is unfortunate enough to get paired with Ronnie (played very convincingly by Bobb’e J. Thompson), whose goal it is to never keep a “Big” for longer then 24 hours. A goal he has had great success achieving before Wheeler.
To say that Role Models was a pleasant surprise would be an understatement. It comes during a time where the big wigs seem to think that a movie has to be horribly raunchy to be funny, but no surprise, the movie comes out as raunchy, and not…well, funny. That’s not to say that Role Models isn’t without its raunchy moments, but they are far outweighed by truly funny moments, the kind that are becoming more and more of a rarity.
The performances are solid, but with the exception of Bobb’e J. Thompson, they aren’t anything special. He delivers his lines with such force and confidence that for a moment you forget your horror that those words are coming out of a ten year-old’s mouth, then the horror returns, but you are left with a sense that if he keeps acting, he’s going to become a comedy staple in the coming years.
We all know that guys secretly like chick flicks, ok we like the ending, the part where it all comes together and everyone ends up getting together, and they ride off into the sunset. Role Models leaves you with that feeling, but you don’t have to sneak into the movie, an R-rated comedy with Stifler, no one will ever suspect you. So go, enjoy this movie, and admit it. Role Models is a good film.
An hour after watching Clint Eastwood’s Changeling, I’m still trembling. Knowing it was going to be intense beforehand didn’t fully prepare me for the range of emotion I felt in reaction to the true story of Christine Collins and her son, Walter. When Jon Stewart interviewed Clint Eastwood on “The Daily Show”, he observed that many period pieces feature minorities and underdogs and heroes of our time. But not a lot is mentioned of the plight women endured during the 1920’s in the United States. Most of the stories are subverted or forgotten, which is one reason Eastwood was compelled to tell this story. Incidentally, Angelina Jolie earned my respect for her performance as Christine Collins. All of her bad roles are quickly forgiven and forgotten.
What at first seems like any tragic kidnapping case, “Changeling” quickly turns into a horrific account of a woman’s battle against sexism and downright misogyny implicit in the Los Angeles Police Department. From top to bottom, the LAPD repeatedly undermines the needs of a single woman begging for an investigation of her missing nine-year old son. A local pastor and radio show host, played by John Malkovich, constantly denounces the LAPD from the pulpit for their corruption and cover-ups. He volunteers his male voice to aid Collins’ search, his own outrage lending her courage to continue fighting the police chief.
Collins heroically gains leverage against the corruption standing in her way, but at the highest price. When the police department reunites her with the missing child, it is clear immediately that they simply replaced her son with an abandoned boy who loosely matched Walter’s description. The LAPD, hoping Collins would be so relieved with the return of her son, sought positive publicity in the wake of dwindling hope in their services. Arrogantly, they waved off Collins protests that the returned boy was someone else’s child.
The ensuing events are frustrating, haunting, demented, and outrageous. It is not a film to watch alone. The desire and need to react in the presence of another person is overwhelming. That is what makes this film worth seeing. It’s what makes this a very good movie.
Pauline ‘Poppy’ Cross, the title character of Mike Leigh’s winning comedy Happy-Go-Lucky, is a litmus test like determining whether a glass is half-full or half-empty. Is it so unreal for someone to be so good and so strong? In a world that seems to be over-populated with a bunch of sorry-sacks all too eager to pop the bubbles of others, the outcry is deafening. It is rare how a movie directly tells you who you really are. Some audience members will find her infallible sunniness grating, perhaps worthy of envy. Others will want invite her over to their house for drinks and laughs once the movie is over. I am in the latter category. It is important to first understand how and why you feel the way you do about Poppy. She is the key to how successfully the film will bypass all of your qualms and barriers guarding your heart. You may well find yourself grinning from ear to ear. I did.
Character actress Sally Hawkins has a great challenge playing a woman who looks happy, is happy, and remains complex and wise. Some viewers may argue she deceives them with her depth. There is a prejudice against a smile; anyone who smiles appears shallow and light-minded. Deep thinkers are usually pictured as angst-ridden, haunted, and in great pain. It is a mistake to assume Poppy is bubbly fool. A mistake that her sullen driving instructor Scott, a Bizarro to her Super(girl), makes throughout. He can’t believe she is an elementary school teacher. He can’t stand how she wears those high-heeled boots while driving. Her insistent joking actually counterattacks his punishing personality. At one point he tells her, “You celebrate chaos!”
Eddie Marsen is brilliantly ruthless playing Scott as the kind of man who is forever blaming everyone around him. You’d almost pity him if he wasn’t so irredeemably clingy to his prejudice. He is resigned to his rut. What bitter irony that his job description tempers road rage. He even screams at his pupil. Mike Leigh has dealt with a similar character in his most bleakest film Naked (1993) - its title character Johnny, played by DavidThewlis, was scuzzy intellectual who aimlessly drifted into the lives of others only to hurt them. Scott has a way of revealing deep emotional scars with silence. One imagines he privately picks at his insecurities like a scabby wound that will never heal. Like Johnny, he uses his book smarts to conceal his hostility to others. Notice how he responds to two black teens bicycling across the street. What a toxic man.
Why does Poppy keep coming back for another driving lesson when a sane person would change teachers? This and many other choices drives her character, demonstrating what indomitable force her unique point of view makes. One wonders how conscious she is of her spirit, despite how well she can read and navigate through a situation. Watch how superbly she negotiates with a very troubled child in her class. The way that episode develops shows just how much command Poppy has. She is never defensive. She is open and doesn’t accept defeat. Together, Poppy and Scott are dynamic foils. Their quick, incisive dialogue makes their rapport immensely entertaining and also very frightening. Hawkins and Marsen are smart enough not to turn their counterparts into easy targets. They understand their characters so profoundly that what ultimately ignites their final confrontation is almost blindsiding, and inevitable.
Both of Hawkins and Marsen’s performances are stunning when you look back at their previous supporting work in the last two of Mike Leigh’s films. In Vera Drake (2004), Hawkins played a shy, soft-spoken daughter to rich parents who was later raped by her boyfriend and became more insular while trying to obtain an abortion in 1950s London. Marsen, famous in Britain as a comedian, portrayed a gravely timid and lonely man who reluctantly gets set up by sweet Vera (Oscar nominee Imelda Staunton) with her own daughter (Alex Kelly). One of the most poignant scenes in Vera Drake depicted in long-shot Marsen and Kelly, a couple in their mid-thirties, walking in an autumn park and they resemble a couple who has been married for forty years. In All or Nothing (2002), Hawkins played a sullen, lower class young woman who is angered easily by her alcoholic mother. Their range is phenomenal.
Leigh follows his characters to make up their stories, namely their own lives. Over a couple weeks, Poppy attends flamenco dancing lessons. The teacher teeming with passionate gravitas is played by Karina Fernandez. The presence of this character alone shirks away the inclusion of the scenes as a lark. “My space!” Stamp! Stamp! These scenes linger over great comic interaction but don’t resolve so much as a generic plot would demand. Like life, the most pressing matter at the moment sometimes dissipates away without a compact conclusion. Here, those flamenco scenes are too invaluable to dismiss because they are so much fun.
Another scene that seems to come from left field is when late one night, Poppy comes across a man, maybe a schizophrenic, who fervently chants gibberish. Poppy, so empathetic, foolhardy and brave, approaches the stranger in the shadows. She talks to him. He seems unsettled. We are worried about her. He excuses himself to urinate in private from a distance. At point she asks herself, “What am I doing?” He comes back. Their conversation continues awkwardly and becomes more relaxed. She asks if he has anywhere to sleep. He says he has a bed. It is never confirmed, but I suspect that maybe he does have a home where he rests. However strange and improbable the moment appears, it becomes important and inseparable from the film as a whole. Leave it Leigh to take a chance and like a magician reveal that he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Leigh, now 65, takes a radical approach to filmmaking by employing actors of his choice and developing a script from there. For a six month period, Leigh works with his actors to build their characters up through improvisation and study. Leigh shoots the film in chronological order, keeping the finished script to his chest, and films the results. During the rehearsal period of this film, Leigh lay in the backseat of the Ford Focus while Hawkins and Marsen improvised and refined their scenes while driving in London traffic. Leigh’s last condition is final cut. Every film he has made employs this technique, despite the rewarding results, Leigh struggles to find backers to finance a film without a shooting script in the beginning.
I think what makes all of Mike Leigh’s films so emotionally volatile is that he always channels the hardships of the human condition so mercilessly. He never lightens his material unnecessarily. Secret And Lies (1996), for example, contains devastating moments where loved ones say things that make one reconsider the term “loved ones”. For such a quirky film like Happy-Go-Lucky, on par with Leigh’s comic Life Is Sweet (1991), being a comedy doesn’t mean there won’t be honest and harrowing moments. There are moments that feel so right, when one character protests, “I want to go home!” There is also a lovely scene that takes place in a chiropractor’s office; completely vulnerable in her underwear and fishnet stockings, Poppy is getting her back pains popped out. She is at such ease, ripe with laughter, and cracking jokes that she doesn’t feel nearly naked. The long lens aerial view of her body across the table simply shows a beautiful and happy woman.
The issue of happiness here reminds of an underrated indie that probed its mystery, Jill Spreacher’sThirteen Conversations About One Thing (2002). That film focused on Gene, an insurance adjuster (Alan Arkin), who envied the beaming optimism of an employee nicknamed Smiley Bowman (William Wise). The Arkin character thought he finally found a way to wipe the grin from Smiley’s face…by firing him. What happens then and much later in the film underlines the central mystery of how some people always find the upside while others linger in a despond. There is a familiar dilemma in Happy-Go-Lucky when Poppy and her friends come over to visit her conservative and pregnant sister.
Not only are the performances so infectious, but the look of the film by Leigh collaborator Dick Pope is so sumptuous and vivid. Filmed using a newly-developed stock of Fuji film, the colours of the London flats, the blue sky, and Poppy’s colourful attire pop with a sparkling vibrancy. There is a shot where Poppy looks out a window; white, refined clouds slowly stretch across day-lit town below. It reminded me of a similar composition taken over a Grand Canyon vista early in Godfrey Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi (1982). The composer Gary Yershon has made a simple, catchy score using horn instruments that’s reminiscent of High Hopes (1988) by Andrew Dickson, another Leigh regular.
Question: Will Andrew Dickson’s haunting soundtracks ever be available?
This year, Sally Hawkins has realized as great a lead performance this side of Melissa Leo in Frozen River and Kristin Scott Thomas in Il Y A Longtemps Que Je T’Aime (I’ve Loved You So Long). If anything, you’ll never look at chicken cutlet the same way again. Not only does this comedy succeed with wit and empathy, it has much richer undertones that lesser filmmakers would avoid out of fear of transcending genres. It is also the best film I have seen about women since Nicole Holofcener’s Lovely and Amazing (2002). Poppy never declares it, but she wants to make the world a better place - there is a lot to be angry about (ie. the economy), so that is no easy feat. I can’t wait to visit Poppy again because she is not merely a ‘happy person’. Poppy is able to perform the herculean feat of recognizing your losses, being blind to the offset of things to come and approaching it with enthusiasm. Happy-Go-Lucky deserves more than just three cheers.
I love this poster.
Happy-Go-Lucky will be in limited release October 23rd.
Just want to remind you that a copy of the three disc edition of Wall-E is up for grabs here, all you need to do is leave a comment…just one measly comment telling my you need the movie…just one.
The Dark Knight DVD’s have shown up for pre-order on various sites. Get this, we all expected TDK to do well on the DVD sales charts, but it has hit number 3 on Amazon’s Movie sales chart. All this coming from a movie that is still two months out. Wouldn’t you like to be behind that gravy train…maybe Chris Nolan could fund a second bailout.
You can pick up the two-disc edition for $22.99. Don’t even think about getting the one disc version. In fact, that doesn’t even exist.
No sign of the crazy awesome bat-pod edition yet. Keep your eyes peeled.
So this is how it happens, The Daily Mail comes up with a story that Johnny Depp will be getting paid £32,000,000 ($56 million) for The Pirates of the Caribbean 4: The Fountain of Youth (ok, that’s not the title…just my addition) which would make him the highest paid actor ever, and everyone believes them.
While I am not inclined to believe something the Daily Mail says, without taking it with a grain of salt, this isn’t too hard to believe. Arguably Johnny Depp carried the entire franchise, making it almost bearable. Since the first three made over $2.68 billion worldwide, there is no reason to think that a fourth wouldn’t do well.
Would you watch a fourth Pirates movie? Or do you think they are milking the franchise too much?
