ARgh... I still haven't seen it. I read the script months ago -- and I was kinda flabbergasted at the response from critics and hardcore movie geeks -- clearly, strong performances and directorial execution elevated matters a great deal from what I'd encountered.
Having not seen the film, I can't discuss this phenomenon in detail re: City of Men -- but I was similarly boggled by the critical response to History of Violence. I'd read the script before it went into production and was, let's just say, under-impressed. When I heard Cronenberg was attached, I assumed he must have intended to rewrite it. When I heard the critical response, I assumed I was right. But then I saw the movie. If Dave even touched up the punctuation, it was a long, long way from a total overhaul. In fact, what's fascinating (to me) about the film is the tension between the directorial approach and the rather pedestrian -- even bad -- material. Cronenberg's noted treatment of the sex and violence in the film is part of what's fascinating: it's almost like he's commenting on the story instead of participating in it. There were a few moments in the film where I was stunned by how the script came to life -- how a powerful performance by an actor transformed dialogue that, on the page, was either painfully flat or laugh-out loud bad.
But History of Violence was still a work that was bursting at its seams with its inner contradictions and tensions... a subtler version of the inner conflict that makes Kiss Me Deadly such a memorably disturbing film: it's a more or less straightforward Mike Hammer film related by a filmmaker who regards Mike Hammer as a disgusting thug, the embodiment of all that's ugly about America. It's a movie that will tie your guts in knots...
Something else in this zip code is the way Wes Craven throws his audience's "cathartic release" right back in their face at the end of The Hills Have Eyes -- what should be the satisfying slaughter of one of the chief villains takes an ugly turn as the "hero" -- and we -- step back and realize that he's covered in blood, that he just reveled in an act as savage and brutal as what the "monsters" had been perpetrating. And Wes Craven cuts away to the credits. There's no moment of comfort, no satisfaction.
(I'd discuss all this stuff in context with No Country for Old Men, but I don't want to blow anything for anybody who hasn't seen this movie yet. Man. Jesus. See it if you haven't.)
Anyway, I mention this because there are movies that are great that were built on a solid but unimpressive foundation, a well-structured but mainly pedestrian script. Conversely... there are complete stink-bombs where somebody pissed all over a work of genius.
Case in point: The Avengers.
I can only cry, softly, for screen writer Don MacPherson. He got caught up in the (well-deserved) backlash against this heavily hyped chrome-plated turd of a movie. And all the heat it got, it richly deserved: wretchedly miscast leads with absolutely no chemistry, Sean Connery in his most embarrassing performance ever, a directorial style that would have been more at home shooting an ecstasy fueled rave than a sophisticated action thriller. Don MacPherson got nominated for a Razzy Award for "Worst Screenplay." And man, he did not deserve it.
You'd never guess it from the finished film, but the script was a dazzling, witty piece -- a craftily updated take on the cool sensibilities of swinging London, a story told in a series of visual tableaux, homages to pop art, op art, Dali, Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, along with "The Avengers" and "The Prisoners." If executed properly, the script would have fulfilled the promise of the movie-within-a-movie of CQ -- a distillation of a certain sensibility of the late '60s, slick, sexy, sly and eminently fashionable. But alas, in the wrong hands, the gold turns to lead -- and Don MacPherson gets an undeserved rap as a hack while Josh Olson (screenwriter of History of Violence gets undeserved props. It's a cruel, unjust world, I tell ya. And it's full of movie critics who are ready to heap all the praise on the autuers and half the blame on the directors.
Sorry, it's late, and I didn't copy edit that last piece. A few corrections:
- Children of Men, not City of Men.
- "The Prisoner", not "The Prisoners."
- And in that last line, what I'm trying to say is that movie critics have a habit of praising the director for all of a good movie's virtues -- but if an autuer cranks out a bomb, the critics are often quick to heap blame on an incompetent screenwriter for saddling said auteur with substandard material. Nevermind that the directors usually have an immense amount of influence over the final shape of the script and many times, the so-called "script problems" are actually the result of directorial fiat.
dudes i want to comment on this and other threads... maybe even post some new ones, but my innerweb is toasted at my house until like friday.... stay tuned... i am currently at a coffeeshop and really really really have to take a leak!
don't forget about these threads when they dissapear off the front... i wanna communicate here...
Well, the free HBO happened to bring me this one last night at 8pm. And what a fine vision of British Dystopianism it was. Projected large on the dining room wall was The Christ Myth superimposed upon a Post-12 Monkey/ Orwellian landscape, perhaps more plausible and believable a future than what now seem the lost fantasy future worlds of A Clockwork Orange or Blade Runner.
Strong Performances Clive Owen's reluctant everyman. Michael Caine's Jasper---I want that house!
An almost comedic sense of timing to certain explosions and gunshots that caused me to question why I was laughing, when there were others that punctuated with an "Oh Fuck!" well into the wee hours as I argued with my subconscious critic over this while dreaming after passing out for the evening with the words "Baby Diego was a wanker" echoing on and on and on....
Just disjointed thoughts right now. but I enjoyed the hell out of this film.
it's a hit!
ARgh... I still haven't seen it. I read the script months ago -- and I was kinda flabbergasted at the response from critics and hardcore movie geeks -- clearly, strong performances and directorial execution elevated matters a great deal from what I'd encountered.
Having not seen the film, I can't discuss this phenomenon in detail re: City of Men -- but I was similarly boggled by the critical response to History of Violence. I'd read the script before it went into production and was, let's just say, under-impressed. When I heard Cronenberg was attached, I assumed he must have intended to rewrite it. When I heard the critical response, I assumed I was right. But then I saw the movie. If Dave even touched up the punctuation, it was a long, long way from a total overhaul. In fact, what's fascinating (to me) about the film is the tension between the directorial approach and the rather pedestrian -- even bad -- material. Cronenberg's noted treatment of the sex and violence in the film is part of what's fascinating: it's almost like he's commenting on the story instead of participating in it. There were a few moments in the film where I was stunned by how the script came to life -- how a powerful performance by an actor transformed dialogue that, on the page, was either painfully flat or laugh-out loud bad.
But History of Violence was still a work that was bursting at its seams with its inner contradictions and tensions... a subtler version of the inner conflict that makes Kiss Me Deadly such a memorably disturbing film: it's a more or less straightforward Mike Hammer film related by a filmmaker who regards Mike Hammer as a disgusting thug, the embodiment of all that's ugly about America. It's a movie that will tie your guts in knots...
Something else in this zip code is the way Wes Craven throws his audience's "cathartic release" right back in their face at the end of The Hills Have Eyes -- what should be the satisfying slaughter of one of the chief villains takes an ugly turn as the "hero" -- and we -- step back and realize that he's covered in blood, that he just reveled in an act as savage and brutal as what the "monsters" had been perpetrating. And Wes Craven cuts away to the credits. There's no moment of comfort, no satisfaction.
(I'd discuss all this stuff in context with No Country for Old Men, but I don't want to blow anything for anybody who hasn't seen this movie yet. Man. Jesus. See it if you haven't.)
Anyway, I mention this because there are movies that are great that were built on a solid but unimpressive foundation, a well-structured but mainly pedestrian script. Conversely... there are complete stink-bombs where somebody pissed all over a work of genius.
Case in point: The Avengers.
I can only cry, softly, for screen writer Don MacPherson. He got caught up in the (well-deserved) backlash against this heavily hyped chrome-plated turd of a movie. And all the heat it got, it richly deserved: wretchedly miscast leads with absolutely no chemistry, Sean Connery in his most embarrassing performance ever, a directorial style that would have been more at home shooting an ecstasy fueled rave than a sophisticated action thriller. Don MacPherson got nominated for a Razzy Award for "Worst Screenplay." And man, he did not deserve it.
You'd never guess it from the finished film, but the script was a dazzling, witty piece -- a craftily updated take on the cool sensibilities of swinging London, a story told in a series of visual tableaux, homages to pop art, op art, Dali, Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, along with "The Avengers" and "The Prisoners." If executed properly, the script would have fulfilled the promise of the movie-within-a-movie of CQ -- a distillation of a certain sensibility of the late '60s, slick, sexy, sly and eminently fashionable. But alas, in the wrong hands, the gold turns to lead -- and Don MacPherson gets an undeserved rap as a hack while Josh Olson (screenwriter of History of Violence gets undeserved props. It's a cruel, unjust world, I tell ya. And it's full of movie critics who are ready to heap all the praise on the autuers and half the blame on the directors.
Sorry, it's late, and I didn't copy edit that last piece. A few corrections:
- Children of Men, not City of Men.
- "The Prisoner", not "The Prisoners."
- And in that last line, what I'm trying to say is that movie critics have a habit of praising the director for all of a good movie's virtues -- but if an autuer cranks out a bomb, the critics are often quick to heap blame on an incompetent screenwriter for saddling said auteur with substandard material. Nevermind that the directors usually have an immense amount of influence over the final shape of
the script and many times, the so-called "script problems" are actually the result of directorial fiat.
Wow... killed that thread. Sorry, Ockshun!
dudes i want to comment on this and other threads... maybe even post some new ones, but my innerweb is toasted at my house until like friday.... stay tuned... i am currently at a coffeeshop and really really really have to take a leak!
don't forget about these threads when they dissapear off the front... i wanna communicate here...
Random thoughts:
Well, the free HBO happened to bring me this one last night at 8pm. And what a fine vision of British Dystopianism it was. Projected large on the dining room wall was The Christ Myth superimposed upon a Post-12 Monkey/ Orwellian landscape, perhaps more plausible and believable a future than what now seem the lost fantasy future worlds of A Clockwork Orange or Blade Runner.
Strong Performances
Clive Owen's reluctant everyman. Michael Caine's Jasper---I want that house!
An almost comedic sense of timing to certain explosions and gunshots that caused me to question why I was laughing, when there were others that punctuated with an "Oh Fuck!" well into the wee hours as I argued with my subconscious critic over this while dreaming after passing out for the evening with the words "Baby Diego was a wanker" echoing on and on and on....
Just disjointed thoughts right now. but I enjoyed the hell out of this film.