I’m not going to offer any argument in the debate over Roman Polanski, who was arrested in Zurich Saturday for a crime that’s older than I am (by 10 days). I’m just going to let this be a straight roundup of blog commentary related to the case, particularly to the divisiveness of support and anger sparked by the arrest and threat of extradition. It was enough that everyone had an opinion on the web yesterday concerning the topic, now it’s time for everyone to lash out against those who disagree with them, especially against the many film industry heavies who’ve signed a petition (and others rallied by the journal La Règle du jeu) asking for Polanski’s release.
Feel free to comment with your own arguments below, but only if you’ve seen the documentary Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired. See the film even if you don’t wish to share your opinion, though, especially since there’s now a very good possibility we’ll be getting at least one sequel to the doc in the future.
Check out the film blog responses to the Polanski “culture war”* after the jump:
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Why are so many people interested in Quentin Tarantino’s favorite movies? Maybe because he’s been so influential or maybe because he’s had so many influences? I’m not sure, but a big topic on the film blogs today is a top 20 list QT came up with for Sky Movies. It’s not his favorite films of all time, however. It’s just his faves since 1992, the year he broke big with his directorial debut, Reservoir Dogs.
The list is filled with a lot of obvious choices, including new Asian cinema classics like The Host, JSA, Audition and his very, very favorite of the past 17 years (the rest of the list is alphabetical), Battle Royale. Surprisingly Oldboy is nowhere to be found despite the fact that QT is responsible for the film’s surprising win at Cannes five years ago. He picked two by Bong Joon-ho, why not two by Park Chan-wook? Is it because that would be too much like self-praise?
The biggest shocker appears to be his inclusion of Woody Allen’s Anything Else, and that’s the main reason people are talking about the list today. I was more stunned, though, by QT’s claim that Supercop has the best stunts of any film ever, including those starring Buster Keaton. I guess I’ll have to see that one again.
Anyway, since QT is known for his borrowing from his influences, I’m excited to see when his movies start pilfering from the likes of Dogville and Shaun of the Dead, both of which would be in my top 20 of 1992-2009, as well.
Check out what other film blogs are saying about the list after the jump:
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Whatever Works, though intentionally foolish and cartoonish where Vicky Cristina Barcelona is dry and pointed, is so in the same mode as a late-Woody Allen inquiry into the ways we learn (and forget) lessons about love that it almost can’t merit its own review. It’s another film unfairly criticized for its so-called naivete, one which has to be wide-eyed in order reflect Allen’s persistent befuddlement over the mysteries of desire. Whatever Works comes around to an uncynical acceptance of the heart wanting what it wants, with every partner swapped and every pagan pair blessed, a nice clean ending that could be confused with cliche. But as Larry David says on screen, “Sometimes a cliche is the best way to say it.” With Whatever Works shaping up to be ‘Allen’s second consecutive summer hit, it seems like as good a time as any to revisit a post I wrote last year, inspired by negative reviews for the eventually Oscar-winning Vicky.
To be fair: Vicky Cristina Barcelona may not need my defense. Since its debut at Cannes, it has garnered some of the most positive reviews of Woody Allen’s late career. But it’s always with that caveat: it’s the best he’s done for us lately. At this point, it seems like the critical class is expected to disclaim their vitriol or praise, no matter what Allen actually puts on the screen, or which way it swings. Is it good? Well, it’s not as good as Annie Hall, but it’s not bad. Is it bad? Well, it’s not as bad as Anything Else, but it’s not good. As you might have guessed, I think Woody Allen has produced some work over the past 15 years (since the Soon-Yi “scandal”, which more or less dovetailed with the consensus opinion that his “best years” were long behind him) that is worthy of more serious consideration. But even if I didn’t think the movies deserved it, the sheer laziness that the movies seem to inspire in critics would almost give me enough incentive to passionately defend them.
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In Woody Allen’s Whatever Works, Larry David plays what most people refer to as “the Woody Role.” This means that he’s filling in for Allen, who for whatever reason is showing up less and less in his films these days. But the Woody Role isn’t merely about a substitute actor starring in place of Allen, it’s often also about that performer channeling the Woody character, that neurotic persona that too many viewers believe is Allen’s true self (as if he’s simply playing himself onscreen in what are also believed to be generally autobiographical works).
David’s performance as “Boris Yelnikoff” in Whatever is not completely Woodyesque, but only because David has his own familiar neurotic onscreen persona that is very separate from — though sometimes complimentary to — Allen’s. And yet he does still come across as a Woody proxy due to the fact that he’s speaking (ranting) dialogue written by Allen rather than improvised (as in Curb Your Enthusiasm).
A number of other actors have served as Woody surrogates, some better and some worse, including a few unofficial proxies in films/series not written or directed by Allen. We list them in order from bad to best after the jump.
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For only $2.3 million, you can own a house featured in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. It’s not the title character’s residence, though; it’s the home of “Cameron Frye.” You’ll recall this as the setting of the film’s ending, where Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari is accidentally hurled through the garage window and into a forest ravine.
While any memorable location from a favorite movie would be a treat to own, Cameron’s house from Ferris Bueller is desirable for the opportunity to relive that famous scene — perhaps with a less-valuable vehicle. In fact, we think the person who buys this home should turn it into a museum, a la the house from A Christmas Story, and offer visitors the chance to crash a disposable car into the ravine for whatever it would cost to maintain such an attraction.
The listing for this Highland Park, Illinois, property has inspired us to come up with ten more movie homes we wish we could own, whether as a dwelling or a plaything. What favorite film location would you want to live in?
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A few weeks ago, Summit Entertainment released the first seven minutes of The Brothers Bloom online. Normally, this kind of marketing strategy is useful, particularly if the movie isn’t well known. However, it helps for such a movie to have a terrific opening, which grabs the viewer in and makes him/her need to see what happens after that teased beginning. The Brothers Bloom, unfortunately, has an unbearable start, enough that I couldn’t even get through the entire seven minutes. I turned the streaming video off at the 4:24 mark.
The primary cause of my annoyance was the voice-over narration, provided by actor/magician Ricky Jay, a man whose speech is easily recognizable, only not for good reason. His lisped reading, sounding like a poor man’s Wallace Shawn, ruined the movie for me immediately. And I decided within those few moments that I wouldn’t bother to go see The Brother’s Bloom in its entirety.
I later learned that Jay’s narration is only in the film for that seven-minute prologue that opens the film, so I am willing to give it another shot, with hope that it gets better. Due to my initial irritation, though, I’ve decided to share a list of ten other movies ruined by their voice-over narration.
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“Who’s that? Who’s talking to me?” Moscowitz said, still dazed by the mystical slam-bang postmortem that had transmogrified him into a crustacean.“It’s me, Moe Silverman,” the other lobster said.
“O.M.G.!” Moscowitz piped, recognizing the voice of an old gin-rummy colleague. “What’s going on?”
“We’re reborn,” Moe explained. “As a couple of two-pounders.”
“Lobsters? This is how I wind up after leading a just life? In a tank on Third Avenue?”
“The Lord works in strange ways,” Moe Silverman explained.
A segment from a new story by Woody Allen in The New Yorker, in which two of Bernie Madoff’s victims die, find themselves reincarnated as the swindler’s potential dinner, and plot to get revenge. It’s short and cute and I totally blogged it for the sly drop of Gossip Girl vernacular alone. O.M.G., indeed.
Two more days until we find out who wins this year’s Academy Awards! Okay, so the exclamation point is more than forced. It’s been quite awhile since we’ve had even an ounce of excitement about the Oscars. But we mustn’t let predictability get us down. Sure, even the still-uncertain races (Penn vs. Rourke; Winslet vs. Streep; Man on Wire vs. Trouble the Water) are anything but interesting, because the everyman of 2009 couldn’t care less about who gave the year’s better performance and would probably be fine shrugging his shoulders at the TV screen in the event of a tie (or, better yet, irresolution). However, there’s one thing people keep forgetting about the Academy: they’re full of surprises.
So, rather than just go with the easy, “predictable” predictions, we attempted to guess who and what will Crash the Oscars this year with a surprise victory — preferably the kind that adds an “ing” to “upset.” And once again, we’d like to extend the forecasting fun to you. What surprises do you expect and/or hope for? Or, if you’re down with the boring route, what “certain” winners do you truly believe in? And why? The most accurate comments will be reprinted in our final Oscar column on Monday.
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Set in alternate-universe present day versions of frozen-over Russia and the Manhattan theatrical intelligensia (the latter resembling something Charlie Kaufman might have come up with, minus the self-deprecating suspicion of success that leads him to mock the careerist stars of Needleman in a Haystack), Sophie Barthes‘ very strong first feature Cold Souls stars Paul Giamatti as an actor named Paul Giamatti, a movie star struggling to get into the character of Uncle Vanya on the stage. His agent points him to an article in the New Yorker about an extraction and cold storage facility for souls on Roosevelt Island. At the end of his rope, Paul goes through the procedure, but find that soulless, his performance is even worse — imagine Vanya as interpreted by a handsy William Shatner. It’s when Giamatti attempts to get back his original soul (shaped, in one of the film’s best running jokes, like a chick pea) that he discovers that the pristine New York clinic where he had the procedure is a front for a roiling Russian soul black market, and with the help of an attractive female soul mule (Dina Korzun), embarks on a journey to St. Petersberg.
In an interview at the Sundance Film Festival last week, Barthes discussed reading Jung, dreaming about Woody Allen, and why she hopes Putin doesn’t read film blogs.
So why would Paul Giamatti’s soul look like a chickpea?
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In 2008 we began the year in entertainment by bidding a premature goodbye to hottie Heath Ledger, his death casting a shadow on summer blockbuster The Dark Knight; and ended it by delivering a fond farewell to “The Dark Angel,” the Marilyn Monroe of the fetish world, “Queen of Pin-Up” Bettie Page. In between we lost numerous other screen sizzlers: Charlton Heston, Paul Newman, Suzanne Pleshette, even Vampira! But since the New Year is a time to look forward as well as pay tribute to the sexy stars we leave behind, I’ve compiled my wish list for a very steamy 2009.
1. Woody & Bond Make a Porno
In 2009 Woody Allen must continue his 2008 sexy success with Vicky Cristina Barcelona by directing a porn flick. Preferably starring Daniel Craig.
Yup, 2008 was the year Woody Allen figured out that casting hot tamales like Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz can do wonders for your onscreen sex life. So now that the Woodman’s discovered the cinema equivalent of Viagra, it’s time for him to take the next step: toss that neurotic crutch into the Hudson (or Thames or Seine) and finally shoot his long-awaited, hardcore remake of Bergman’s The Passion of Anna.
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The nominations for the 2008 Independent Spirit Awards are out, and there are a lot of causes for excitement. IndieWIRE has the full list; here are a few of the many reasons to celebrate:
- Silent Light, which still hasn’t officially been released in the US (although a run at NY’s Film Forum is pending), was nominated for best Foreign Film, alongside Cannes winners Hunger, Gomorrah and The Class, and the upcoming IFC release The Secret of the Grain.
- Three big nominations for Medicine for Melancholy: director Barry Jenkins and producer Justin Barber were nominated for Best First Feature, Jenkins was named alongside Nina Paley and Lynn Shelton as contenders for the Acura Someone to Watch Award, and James Laxton earned a nomination for Melancholy’s distinctive cinematography.
- Sean Baker competes against himself for the John Cassavetes Award for the best feature made for under $500,000; Prince of Broadway and Take Out were nominated alongside The Signal, Turn the River, and In Search of a Midnight Kiss.
- SpoutBlog favorites The Order of Myths, Encounters at the End of the World, The Betrayal and Man on WireUp the Yangtze join in the Best Documentary category; Myths director Margaret Brown was also nominated for the Lacost Truer Than Fiction prize, which goes to an upcoming nonfiction filmmaker.
- On the bigger film front, Rachel Getting Married, The Wrestler and Vicky Cristina Barcelona were amongst the most nominated films; Woody Allen will compete in the Screenplay category against fellow Oscar winner Charlie Kaufman.
The full list of nominees can be found here. The Spirits will be handed out, as per tradition, the night before the Oscars in Santa Monica.
Queen of Bad Sex Catherine Breillat could learn a thing or two from Woody Allen. Not only is his latest celluloid psychotherapy session Vicky Cristina Barcelona a phenomenal work of intellectual porn, but it also happens to contain one of the sexiest, most hysterical and poignant portrayals of polyamory to come along in a long, long time. Allen actually gets that those of us who choose to live outside of hetero monogamy are not voracious sex addicts lacking in morality – on the contrary, we simply abide by a different set of desires and ethics than that of the mainstream.
Watching the sexual roundelay involving Diane Keaton/Mia Farrow substitute muse Scarlett Johansson and Allen stand-in Rebecca Hall as the American tourists Cristina and Vicky, who become sucked into the fiery passionate and oftentimes downright dangerous world of Barcelona artists Juan Antonio and his ex-wife Maria Elena, played by Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz (for my money the two sexiest European stars to grace the screen since Mastroianni and Sophia Loren), I realized it was the first time I’d ever wanted to jerk off to a Woody Allen film. This is the master of neuroses on Viagra. Spain seems to have reinvigorated Allen, and it’s a joyous thrill to behold. Simply put, the director’s upped the endorphin factor, leaving me hot and bothered and hysterically laughing all at the same time.
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Not to make a career out of Woody Allen apologia, but I thought it was interesting to see critics slam Vicky Cristina Barcelona for what they perceive as Woody Allen’s misogyny when, for the first time as far as I can tell, he’s cast a woman in the typical Woody Allen role, which you’d think would be a step-up from the typical Woody Allen woman-as-love-interest paradigm.
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Thanks to Matt Prigge, I’ve spent the past 26 minutes watching Meetin’ WA, a 26-minute film about Woody Allen, shot in New York by Jean-Luc Godard. A good portion of the short is dedicated to a fairly formal, almost junket-style interview, with Godard asking the questions, sometimes with the help of a translator, and mostly concerning Woody’s then-new release, Hannah and Her Sisters. Godard then inserts his typically pointed commentary via almost non-sequitor intertitles and film stills. It was particularly interesting for me to see this so soon after hearing the full story of why Godard didn’t direct Little Murders, the ultimate subversive New York movie, for Eliott Gould. Fifteen years later, he’s revisiting the city and having an interesting but rather bloodless conversation with the man who is, at that point, the preeminent New York auteur, and he seems mostly concerned with Allen’s thoughts on television. A stretch? Yeah, probably.
I’ll have some thoughts on Woody Allen’s recent work, including the about-to-premiere Vicky Cristina Barcelona, tomorrow
