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Friday, June 17, 2011
THE TREE OF LIFE: The Film Babble Blog Review
This is sure to be the most debated film of the year.
Just a cursory glance at internet message boards shows that while some people are labeling it “pretentious crap,” another thread of folks are calling it “one of the best movies ever.”
Consider me in the latter camp.
For his first film since THE NEW WORLD in 2005, the none-too-prolific Terrace Malick (BADLANDS, THE THIN RED LINE) has made a non-linear epic of incredible photography, lavish reconstructions of astrological history, and classical music.
It’s an overwhelming work that obviously a lot of people simply won’t get. I myself am still trying to piece it together, but I think I get it. I think.
Through beautifully fleeting imagery, we follow Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain as the parents of three sons in 1950s Waco, Texas. One of the sons dies, the cause of which is never explained, and the family is in mourning with Chastain asking the Heavens: “Lord, why? Where were you?”
Malick attempts to answer that question by going back to the beginning of time in a mesmerizing series of shots of thick engulfing clouds, glowing globules of every color, shining light, fire, flowing lava, etc.
History comes alive via CGI, and we even get to spend a little time with a few dinosaurs.
The visual thrust of all of this is stupefying; it’s like Malick is actually trying to capture God on film.
I’m really not sure if he succeeded, but that a film maker would try so hard and in some flashing moments appear to get so close is amazing to behold.
The timeline catches up with the ‘50s family again, as we see the boy who died being born. A strict disciplinarian, Pitt practices tough love on his boys (Hunter McCraken, Laramie Eppler, and Tye Seridan) while Chastain offers nothing but unconditional motherly love.
The vivid cinematography by four-time Oscar nominee Emmanuel Lubezki is astounding. Whether it’s exploiting the lush splendor of nature or zeroing in on the characters in emotional despair, the camera is always moving, exploring the space of every frame.
Close-ups are handled in a manner I haven’t seen in a film in ages. Even when the boys join a roving group of trouble making pre-teens, a feeling of isolation around McCracken is felt. His misguided desire to fit in with the window breaking, animal abusing brats is captured in the restless energy of the camerawork.
As the troubled eldest son Jack, McCracken is arguably the protagonist. His angry brow dominates the screen as he grows to resent his father. It’s a spare yet piercing performance – a noteworthy film debut.
An older version of Jack is played by Sean Penn, a businessman in the modern world still suffering over the loss of his brother and estranged relationship with his father. Penn’s part is one of the film’s only weaknesses. Penn, who gets more grizzled looking every movie he makes, mainly broods with his presence threatening to stop the film’s immersive flow.
As the last third becomes engulfed in surrealism, Penn is seen, suited up, wandering around a desert landscape. These images are pretty, but ultimately superfluous.
Many moviegoers (and critics) are going to be baffled by THE TREE OF LIFE. It’s a challenging and dense work that comes off at times like STAND BY ME filtered through the Kubrickian kaleidoscope of the last ten minutes of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY.
To me it’s not just a massive breath of fresh air during this sequel saturated summer, it’s a near masterpiece about life, death, the universe and everything.
In other words, here’s the year’s first major contender for Best Picture at the next Academy Awards.
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Friday, August 21, 2009
Quentin Tarantino's World War II: Electric Boogaloo

"Once upon a time...in Nazi occupied France". So begins Quentin Tarantino's long awaited mock epic war movie in which slaughter and blood are upstaged by talky tension. This is expertly displayed in the first scene (or chapter as the title card calls it). An SS Colonel (Christoph Waltz) proud of his nickname "the Jew Hunter", questions a French farmer (Denis Menochet) who is suspected of hiding a missing Jewish family. The scene takes its time with their back and forth before the camera pans down to show us that the farmer is indeed harboring the family beneath his floor boards. The set up and powerful payoff of this chilling opening confirm that the pulse and tone of Tarantino's best work is intact and while subtlety was never a strength of his, he is learning to exercise some patience and restraint. However, patience and restraint both stand down for most of the rest of the film.
In the second "chapter" we meet Brad Pitt and his crew of "Basterds" - a team of Jewish American soldiers intent on killing as many Nazis as possible. As Pitt puts it in his unconvincing yet still appropriately comedic Southern accent: "We're not in the taking prisoners business, we're in the killing Nazi killing business, and business is boomin'!" Along the way a few big 3-D style block letter intros to characters like Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz (Til Schweiger) thrown in (with Samuel L. Jackson narration no less) prove that you can't completely take the 70's comic book cinema leanings out of Mr. Too Cool For Film School. The Basterd crew also includes Eli Roth, B.J. Novak, and Sam Levine (Freaks And Geeks) Once we fully get that our heroes are way into collecting scalps and branding Swastika's into survivor's heads it's on to the next chapter.



It's too early to tell where INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS falls in Tarantino's canon but it's sturdier and significantly more solid than his last few films (the KILL BILL flicks and DEATH PROOF). If you go looking for historical accuracy or anything resembling reality you'll definitely come up short, but if you go expecting Tarantino's patented brand of film geek gusto infusing an alternate history graphic novel of a movie, you should do just fine.
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Thursday, January 8, 2009
Benjamin Button's Back Pages
- Bob Dylan (“My Back Pages” 1964)
THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON (Dir. David Fincher, 2008)
“I’m seven but I look much older” Benjamin Button (Brad Pitt) says in his early old age upon meeting somebody new. He is, of course, not kidding. He was born a wrinkled wizened man in his 80’s, albeit the size of a tiny baby, so his curious case is that he is aging backwards. His tale is told through the recollections via his letters and writings from the deathbed of a former lover (Cate Blanchett) to her daughter (Julia Ormond) while the hard winds and rain of Hurricane Katrina pound her hospital window. He appears through the help of seamless CGI with the face of Pitt grafted on a child’s (or little person or such) body as he is brought up by New Orleans nursing home caretakers (Taraji P. Henson and Mahershalalhashbaz Ali) after being abandoned by his ashamed wealthy father (Jason Flemying).
Adapted from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1921 short story, the tale has a
The narrative is handled so delicately that it’s as if it might break. As our hero gets younger the film seems to lose its already fragile grasp on the character. A sense of whimsy flows through that’s so light and airy that the film feels at times like it might float away. Also the digital trickery can often distract. The early scenes with Button largely crafted by CGI effect, while flawless executed, are hard to embrace because the gimmick overwhelms the emotional response. When Button appears to Daisy as a younger than he is in real life Brad Pitt by way of the marvels of modern make-up, she tells him “you look perfect” which is true but again the scene barely registers as anything but a pretty picture.
THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON is a lavish over-sized coffee table book of a movie. The accompanying text may be sorely lacking but it’s a visual feast and much to its credit it doesn’t feel like it’s just shy of 3 hours long. Being a fan of much of Fincher’s previous work (especially FIGHT CLUB and ZODIAC) I found this to be his most blatant exercise of style over substance and I’m not forgetting PANIC ROOM. From the first frame that depicts the
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Friday, September 12, 2008
BURN AFTER READING - The Film Babble Blog Review

You can’t get any more A-list than the cast of this movie. George Clooney, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton are Oscar winners, John Malkovich has been nominated more than once, and Brad Pitt is, well, Brad Pitt (yes he’s been nominated too). Mix in a couple of the most acclaimed character actors working today -Richard Jenkins (Six Feet Under, THE VISITOR) and J.K. Simmons (J. Jonah Jameson in the SPIDERMAN series, JUNO) and you've got as rich and tasty an cinematic ensemble soufflé that could be served today. Coming off the ginormous success of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (yes, more Oscars) it seems the Coe

Seems somewhat pointless to try to recount the plot but I’ll still have a go at it. Malkovich is a boozing low level CIA agent whose files and memoirs are copied onto a disc by his wife (Swinton) after he is fired and she plans to divorce him. The disc is found at the gym Hardbodies where McDormand and Pitt work who, the money-grubbing schemers that they are, plan to blackmail Malkovich with. Meanwhile Clooney (also an idiot) who is having an affair with Swinton meets McDormand on one of his many misadventures with online dating. Misadventures is the right word for all of this as we see these pathetic people go through a series of sloppily handled escapades. The disc is, of course, a MacGuffin as its contents are unimportant and, as anyone in the film who studies it confirms, worthless. The conviction of McDormand, who wants the money to have extesive

“We don’t really know what anyone is after” J.K. Simmons as Malkovich’s former superior says in an indifferent ‘whatever’ manner at one point and I bet many critics will say the same about BURN AFTER READING. After the powerfully astute NO COUNTRY... this may seem merely a funny throw-away. A high class but trivial piece that treads water between more ambitious efforts I’m sure some will remark but I believe there is a lot more going for it than that. Sure, it would be easy to conclude that this is a silly statement on our current technology driven paranoia and that everybody is stupid, glib, and completely out for themselves but I think that would be dumbing it down considerably. With their patented low angles, wide interior shots, and the overall free for all spirit that they appear to instill in all the films participants, the offbeat world we are presented could only be Coen created - this is a view of their private sector, to use some Washington D.C. jargon. Like many Coen Brothers movies this will take repeat viewings to fully appreciate and to formulate more of a take on where it stands in their canon. Right now I can only say that BURN AFTER READING is consistently hilarious with a host of A-listers at the top of their game and I’m looking forward to seeing it again. It’s an enjoyable and extremely silly sector that I’m glad they don't keep so private.
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Friday, February 8, 2008
2007 Spills Over And Over And Over...
THE SAVAGES (Dir. Tamara Jenkins, 2007)

In a movie full of great natural-feeling moments, Gbenga Akinnagbe as a caretaker steals some vital screen time and as Hoffman and Linney's respective lovers Cara Seymour and Peter Friedman fill out the great but spare cast. Tamara Jenkin's first film - the underrated late 90's SLUMS OF BEVERLY HILLS, as much as I hate using the phrase, showed promise but surprisingly not as much as this film delivers. "Maybe dad didn't abandon us. Maybe he just forgot who we were" Linney says at one point and you can feel every syllable - not a single one of them phony or feeling like they exist only in a "movie" world. Hoffman and Linney are both top notch actors and they never falter here (this could be very well adapted to a great 2 person play); both deserve nominations (this should have been what Hoffman got a Oscar nomination for - not CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR). Jenkins, who also wrote the screenplay, has a smooth assured directorial style and that's impressive with such rocky neurotic material. If I had seen it sooner THE SAVAGES may have made my top ten of 2007 but now I don't want to knock anything off. Still it's in my ongoing spillover and one I urge you to seek out. This is one of those slices of life that really cuts.
THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY (Dir. Julien Schnabel, 2007)

A few weeks back at the DGA Awards actress Sean Young (BLADE RUNNER, NO WAY OUT) heckled director Julien Schnabel when he took the stage because she thought he was taking too long to get to his remarks regarding his best director nomination for this film. “Come on - get to it!” she yelled, “have another cocktail!” he replied before walking off. Nobody could rightly yell at the screen for this movie to “get to it” because it immediately gets there with its premise, with its visuals, and with its remarkable sense of purpose. The premise: Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathieu Amalricis) is paralysed after a stroke and can only communicate by blinking one eyelid. In this locked-in syndrome he is surrounded by women - his wife (Emmanuelle Seigner), his therapist (Marie-Josee Croze) who devised the one-eye communication method, his mistress (Agatha de la Fontaine), and a few pretty nurses (incuding Schnabel’s wife Olatz Lopez Garmendia) so he at least is never at a loss for beauty. We are never at a loss for beauty either - even though the first 10 minutes or so are a bit disorienting (images are seen through Bauby’s blinks) once one gets accustomed to the style the film is as engaging and colorful as one could desire.
It is funny that to fully appreciate and understand the title one has to see the film (or read the book), in other words it would be a spoiler to tell you what the title means so I won’t go there. There are many flashbacks, which are seemlessly stitched into the film's fabric, so we see Bauby in better days. We get insight into his character, or lack of character when you consider the mistress, and get a great extended cameo by the legendary Max von Sydow as his stern cranky father. I got lost in this movie in its last third in the best possible manner - swept up in the notions of splendor one can only fully visualize from a state of confinement. Reportedly Johnny Depp was originally going to portray Bauby. I’m so glad that didn't happen (he had PIRATES commitments apparently) for Depp's ginormous star presence would have surely distracted from the real show. THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY is another candidate for 2007 spillover and a gorgeous experience that one doesn't need “another cocktail” to get to.
And now some new release DVDS:
THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (Dir. Andrew Dominik, 2007)


The film could as well be titled “The Last Days Of The James Gang” for over its 2 hour and 40 minute running time the other members (including Sam Rockwell, Jeremy Renner, and Paul Schneider) get a lot of screen time and their all fates intertwine with those of the two title characters. There is a large chunk of the film that Affleck is absent from as we learn family backgrounds and the score on deadly set-ups past and future. Pitt, understated with a persona drenched clean of razzle dazzle, is the best I've ever seen him - not a second of actorly digression. Casey Affleck once again makes the case that he's the Affleck brother that should be in front of the camera as his Ford progressively seethes from within - outwardly idolizing yet quietly despising the aloof but intense James.
As I said before this was nominated for Best Achievement in Cinematography and it definitely deserves to win. Roger Deakins' (also nominated for NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN) work here is explemporary - every single shot is beautiful whether they are of open terrains, spare wooden house sets, or the snow covered woods where a body could be dumped and not found for many seasons. Affleck also deserves his nomination but I doubt he'll get the gold (I'll refrain from Oscar predictions just yet) - overall the entire cast is well chosen with Sam Shepherd as James' brother Frank James, Mary-Louise Parker (who barely has any lines but a great screaming and sobbing scene) as James's wife, and the previously mentioned Rockwell in a manically precise part as Robert Ford's brother Charlie - see how 'in the family' this all is? In my review of 3:10 TO YUMA last September about the fate of the modern western I said that "it’s a genre that will never die". Great sprawling masterworks like Dominik's THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD make me re-affirm that statement.
THE KING OF KONG: A FISTFUL OF QUARTERS (Dir. Seth Gordon, 2007)
“Out of the entire global classic gaming hobby, there's one significant rivalry that's equivalent to the big rivalries in history: Yankees/Red Sox, Maris/Mantle, Heckle and Jeckle...all the big rivalries in history you know? This is up there on that level.” - Walter Day (founder of Twin Galaxies, an international organization that tracks high-score statistics for the worldwide electronic video gaming hobby - thanks again Wikipedia!).
One thing is certain if you watch this film you will come to know 2 names very well: Billy Mitchell and Steve Wiebe (pictured above). Billy Mitchell (pictured on the left below) who has been called the "greatest arcade-video-game player of all time" and is documented in the Guinness Book of World Records for his high score on the old school 80's classic Donkey Kong. Wiebe is his competitor - a failed baseballer, grunge musician, laid-off from Boeing surbananite who took to his personal in the garage Donkey Kong machine as a time killer when out of work and just happened to beat Mitchell's score. After many of Mitchell's minions doubt the validity of Wiebe's score self appointed records keeper turned gamer referee Walter Day invites him to prove his skills "live" - that is, at a public venue (one of the last standing arcades - Funspot in Laconia, New Hampshire). This is where the tensions rise - Mitchell sends a videotape that shows a game that tops Wiebe's score. Mitchell is a no-show for a "live" showdown but is constantly monitoring his competition from his phone while Wiebe lives up the the challenge and continues to play on the spot. More such devious developments occur as we wonder if a real confrontation is in the cards.
For somebody who isn't a gamer and had no idea of this outdated videogame subculture I was really riveted by this production. It's the best kind of documentary - one that invites you in to a world that you've never known, introduces you to folks you end up really caring about, and leaves you with the passion and pathos of every day life from an angle that feels fresh as well as very funny. Maybe this film too simplistically casts Billy Mitchell as the conniving villain and Steve Wiebe as the innocent underdog hero but then again sometimes you've got to call 'em like you see 'em. The DVD is essential because the bonus material is not of the disposable variety - there are many vital extras including Q & A sessions from film screenings, a lot of crucial cut footage, and most importantly - updates on where the players competition stands now. As one of the bonus features is called (in a STAR WARS scroll) "The Saga Continues" - the story is going on to this day with Mitchell and Wiebe still battling it out down to the Donkey Kong "Kill screen". One of the few documentaries ever where a sequel follow-up wouldn't just be justified; it would be greatly appreciated.
Post Note #1: I wrote this review before I found out that a follow-up will occur but it's not a sequel - a scripted dramatized movie adaptation is in the works I read on the internets. Hmmm.
Post Note #2: This hilarious recent Onion AV Club interview with Billy Mitchell is a sequel/rebuttal in itself.
THE BRAVE ONE (Dir. Neil Jordan, 2007)

It’s hard for me not to think of TAXI DRIVER – the Scorsese/De Niro 70’s classic that happened to have a 13 year old Foster as a prostitute (a role that got her a Best Supporting Actress Nomination - she didn't win but won later for Best Actress for THE ACCUSED). In THE BRAVE ONE Foster stalks the same mean streets that Travis Bickle did and she obviously would relate to the sentiment when he lamented: "Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets." Neil Jordan's (MONA LISA, THE CRYING GAME, THE BUTCHER BOY) direction is fluidly fine and it is a gutsy move for Foster to take on this female variation on DEATHWISH. Her fierce frightened performance provides plenty of grip but the play-out here is predictable and so is the ending. The combination of Fosters and Jordan's panache does help this rise above standard thriller status – it just doesn’t rise far enough up to ring that cinematic circus bell.
By the way:

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