Tuesday, January 20, 2015

"The Secret Garden" 1993 - review




A Public Dump

Yep!  That’s what this is going to be; an open and unabashed excoriation of a film that I flatly refused to finish.  This is quite a rare occurrence for me.  Even if I think that a movie really sucks, I can usually muster the grit to endure it to the end.  I've long felt that if I’m going to offer an opinion on something, especially if it's negative, then my knowledge should be as complete as possible.  However, I was not willing to make that sacrifice in this case.  I immediately sensed that something was wrong, and my unease grew exponentially.  Finally, I had to leave the room.  I think it was only fifteen or twenty minutes into the film.

This is exactly how I looked while watching it.

I had never known that very particular sense of personal outrage that is experienced when a cherished book is turned into a mess of a movie.  I had been disappointed with other films drawn from literary sources, but I was more forgiving because I understood the Herculean challenges involved in adapting certain works, “Dune” and “The Lord of the Rings” being excellent examples.  However, “The Secret Garden” is not a sprawling epic spanning multiple generations and eons of time.  It doesn’t have a massive cast of characters scurrying to and fro across alien landscapes filled with legendary battles between good and evil.  It’s about a young girl and an old garden.


As a book, “The Secret Garden” is a subtle, beautiful and inspiring reading experience.  The main character's transformation from a vile, selfish hellion into a sweet, altruistic angel is an absolute delight. However, her journey is a moderate one.  Real people are naturally slow to change,  and the story takes its time to detail the stages of her growth, and each tiny advance is allowed to take root before the next step is taken.  This lengthy process is not impossible in the more limited time frame of the movies because the story is very simple.  The question is whether or not the filmmaker cares to cultivate a more patient pace.


Unfortunately, director Agnieszka Holland fails spectacularly.  The first sign of trouble appears in the opening credits: “based on the book.”  Uh-oh!  Why would you need to alter anything?  “The Secret Garden” is not a complicated narrative.  The book doesn’t take more than a week to read.  There’s no reason to compress or abridge anything unless you don’t like the story.  If you don’t, why make the film at all?  If you do like the story, why would you do the author and the fans the disservice of thinking that you can “improve” it?  One cannot improve upon perfection, but alas, ego often thinks otherwise.


Once the credits were over, my disappointment increased rapidly.  The story begins in India, where a young English girl named Mary is surrounded by servants who attend to her every need.  However, despite all this attention, she is utterly alone.  Her parents want nothing to do with her, and this emotional neglect has devastating consequences.  In the book, several chapters are devoted to detailing Mary’s horrid existence, and this is crucial to demonstrate how Mary has become such a miserable creature.  More crucially, it encourages the reader to fervently hope for her eventual deliverance from darkness.  Her soul, long wilted by neglect, may still have a chance to bloom.


In this film version, Mary’s origin story races by breathlessly.  Her parents and all the servants die in an earthquake (?!) instead of an outbreak of cholera.  The earthquake is a very poor substitute.  It is too contemporary of a disaster and makes Mary’s survival seem a random act of chance, especially since she hides under a bed!  The cholera outbreak makes more sense given the time period, and it highlights the severity of Mary’s isolation.  If she had been loved, her increased physical contact with her family would doubtless have resulted in her infection and death.  The reason she survives is because she was forgotten.


Director Agnieszka Holland also seems to have forgotten the fact that audiences don’t need narration unless it describes something that is not taking place onscreen, yet Mary herself narrates the entire film.  Not only is this unnecessary because we see everything she talks about, but the narration has the effect of placing us in the narrator’s head and thus, on her side.  We see the world from her point of view, which begs us to ally ourselves with her.  However, we are not meant to like Mary in the beginning because she is decidedly unlikable.  Mary is a detestable, shrieking brat.  While the young actress succeeds in making Mary unpleasant, the narration makes her comes across as more misunderstood than misanthropic.


There are many other character misfires.  I love Maggie Smith, but her portrayal of Mrs. Medlock is hideous.  This character is somewhat temperamental in the book, but in the film she displays a disdain for children bordering on the violent.  This is NOT the Mrs. Medlock whom I came to know and love!  Other characters are also hastily sketched, and absent the peculiarities that made them interesting.  Some, like Dickon, are introduced far earlier than necessary, thus cluttering the landscape with faces we don't yet need to see.  Well, that's bloody well enough of that!  Here's hoping that the BBC version at my local video store is a little more faithful.  I have faith that it will, as the Brits tend to have a bit more respect for literary sources, especially their own!

Sunday, January 18, 2015

"Casablanca"



The exhaustion of dog paddling through the shiny sewage of most modern American films often makes you wonder why you should keep going.  Then you return to a classic like “Casablanca” and everything comes rushing back.  You realize all over again why you first fell in love with the movies.  It is quite a surprise then to discover that “Casablanca” was just one of many films on the Warner Brothers docket.  It was not consciously constructed for greatness, but through a haphazard fusion of factors and chance, “Casablanca” went on to become a Hollywood hallmark, winning several Oscars including Best Picture.  Though the story is very firmly rooted in a specific point in history, the film has lasted because the emotional struggles of the characters are timeless.


Adapted from an unproduced stage play called “Everybody Comes To Rick's”, the script went through many revisions, especially during shooting.  A lot of myth and rumor has since swirled around the history of the troubled production, most being totally unfounded.  Although Humphrey Bogart was not the first choice for the lead, Ronald Reagan was never seriously considered.  It's true that Anne Sheridan was momentarily slotted for the role that Ingrid Bergman would become best know for, but it is hard to imagine an American successfully playing such a European character.


Casablanca” gave Humphrey Bogart the attractive opportunity to add some softness and dimension to his tough guy persona.  On the surface Rick appears to be a man’s man, but his steely exterior shields a badly broken heart.  Convinced that Ingrid Bergman’s Ilsa loved him and left him, Rick drowns his sorrows in liquor and loose women.  Bitter and resigned as he seems, when Ilsa suddenly reappears, Rick cannot deny the part of himself that still loves her more deeply than he may have realized.  When the cracks in his armor begin to show, we are glad because it means that Rick still has a chance to come to peace with his long nursed pain.


Ingrid Bergman’s performance is luminous.  As Ilsa, Ingrid radiates both innocence and mature sexuality with equal power and allure, and the combination is beautifully devastating.  She appears at first to be the good girl next door, but later scenes suggest that underneath that prim façade lurks a boudoir tigress.  It is easy to see why Rick has been so wound up over Ilsa for all these years, and even though Ilsa tries to use her wiles against Rick to get the letters of transit, there is nothing malicious about her intentions.  Perhaps it is because we know Rick is too smart to really fall for it, and he loves Ilsa too much to blame her for trying.


The specifics of the plot do not matter much, as it is the words and actions of the entire cast that make “Casablanca” so memorable.  Even the smallest roles shine due to the veteran character actors who make even the briefest of appearances moments to be savored.  Casablanca” is a terrific example of a final product far greater than the sum of its individual parts.  Repeated viewings only enhance the pleasure of the experience as we anticipate our favorite scenes.  Revisiting “Casablanca” is like spending time with family, and it is a beautiful friendship that only gets better as time goes by.


Thursday, January 8, 2015

5 Underrated Movies




The Last Mimzy

I remember seeing the poster for this movie on the side of a bus stop and wondering: “What the heck is a Mimzy?”  So when it came out on DVD at the video store I worked at, I watched it with no small amount of curiousity.  If you haven’t read the book and don’t know what a Mimzy is either, don't worry.  The beauty of the story, the charming characters and the tantalizing mystery will captivate you regardless.  “The Last Mimzy” is a precious rarity in children’s films; a wondrous sci-fi/fantasy story firmly rooted in reality.  Though it begins in the familiar mundanity of suburbia, it slowly and subtly builds to involve the fate of the human race.


Two siblings, Noah and Emma, find a mysterious box in the surf near their Seattle home.  Once opened, the box reveals an odd assortment of seemingly plain objects; a half dozen rocks, a shard of green crystal, a blue globule, and a stuffed bunny rabbit.  Emma takes the bunny and both she and Noah puzzle over the rest.  As they discover that these objects contain great powers, the children also begin to display powers of their own.  Noah suddenly develops genius-level scholastic skills, and Emma talks to Mimzy telepathically.  Thankfully, these powers develop slowly, so that we stay grounded with the characters.


At its heart, “The Last Mimzy” is an excellent family drama, in large part because the children act like real children.  Noah and Emma are neither shrill, ignorant brats nor are they snotty, mini-adult know-it-alls.  Their parents are also surprisingly well-rounded and decent people, both of whom care for their kids instead of viewing them as annoyances.  When Noah accidentally fuses two of the strange objects together, the power surge knocks out Seattle's entire electrical grid.  Homeland Security is watching, and the whole family is whisked away to a secure facility where the mysterious objects are studied by scientists.  However, the children must escape back home as time is running out on their crucial mission.


I’ve been intentionally vague about certain details because I could not bear to spoil the many wonderful surprises that are revealed.  What is even more thrilling is the message that this film brings: hope.  The ending is a blissful, exultant and restorative affirmation of the potential for good in all of us and what we can achieve if we can finally work together for the common good of all life on Earth.  It’s easy to be cynical, but the more challenging path of altruism is one we should all aspire to tread because of the countless generations to come which will benefit.


Grandma’s Boy

Ok, now we’re going to totally switch gears!  I’ve not cared much for the vast majority of Adam Sandler’s career.  The humor of the boorish man-child is lost on me.  I rarely find immaturity to be very funny and the celebration of such willful mental stagnation is repulsive.  So it’s fair to say that I had zero expectations for “Grandma’s Boy” knowing that it was made by Sandler’s production company.  The title certainly doesn’t inspire thoughts of witty wordplay or appealing characters.  However, after I was done laughing my ass off from beginning to end, my surprise gave way to wonder and finally awe.


Yes, I was awed by an Adam Sandler movie!  Technically, he had nothing to do with the making of the film as he was only on the set the first day.  But, his money made it possible, and for that I’m very grateful.  The film begins in typical Sandler style: two grown men behaving like teenagers, doing bong hits and playing video games.  However, as the scene plays out, you begin to notice that the dialogue is really good, WAY better than what you’d expect for this kind of movie.  Almost every line is quotable and funny as hell.  Allen Covert (who also co-wrote the screenplay) stars as Alex, a veteran game tester for Brainasium.  He’s so good at his job that he’s begun writing his own game on the side, and this secret project is what moves the tiny bit of plot.


The vast majority of the film is astutely given over to examining the quirks and peccadilloes of a rogue’s gallery of misfits that one might imagine make up the staff of many video game companies.  J.P., the boy wunderkind game designer and genius, is such a social maladroit that he cannot even make friends among his fellow freaks.  His extreme awkwardness is only magnified by the appearance of Samantha, a new Project Manager played by the brainy and beautiful Linda Cardellini.  J.P. and Alex vie for Samantha’s attention, but J.P. has been isolated too long.  He hasn’t got a chance.  J.P.’s insecurities and jealousy compel him to steal Alex's game and claim it as his own.


The writing makes the film work, which is a damn good thing because the movie is SUPER dumb.  However, it knows what it is and doesn't try to be more.  The supporting cast is great, and features many familiar faces at the beginning of their comedy careers, but even such talent cannot win the day without the words.  The countless acerbic zingers that whiz by like arrows on a battlefield are perfect examples of how even low-brow comedies must be built on a smart foundation if they aren’t going to fall apart after ten minutes.  “Grandma’s Boy” is by turns moronic, filthy, adorable and Zen.  "Let’s swim with the dolphins, Mr. Cheezle!"


Gattaca

Andrew Niccol’s later career contained more misses than hits, but the first film he wrote and directed is one of the best examples of social science fiction that I’ve ever seen.  Set in the “not too distant future”, eugenics technology now allows humans to ensure that their children are as genetically perfect as possible before they are even born.  This biological purity quickly becomes the new yardstick, and society is divided into the “Valid” and “Invalid.”  Your family name, your race or your education cease to be pertinent factors in your destiny.  Your DNA signature becomes the key to opening the doors that you desire.  Your blood is tested constantly, and those whose helix's are not filtered fall to the bottom of the social ladder, consigned forever to clean glass through which they will never see the world.


Ethan Hawke plays Vincent, an “Invalid” who has dreamed of spaceflight from infancy.  Yet his parents trusted in God to make their son instead of the local geneticist, and so Vincent is doomed to only glimpse the stars from the ground.  However, life is not as easy at it seems for all "Valids."  Great genes are not a guarantee of success.  Such ephemeral human qualities as ambition are still beyond replication, and even the most consciously constructed genius can still fall short.  When they do, their genetic identity can be sold on a thriving black market, and Vincent uses this to his advantage in the hopes of finally breaking his Earthly bonds.


“Gattaca” comprises several genres aside from science fiction.  It is a romance, a detective story, and a tragic fraternal tale of two brothers torn asunder.  Through his black market connections and a painful amount of surgical subterfuge, Vincent is able to gain entry to Gattaca, the premier spaceflight training facility.  However, a sudden murder begins an investigation that threatens to reveal his deceit.  Vincent’s "Valid" brother, Anton, whom he has not seen in years, is part of the team working to solve the murder.  Yet, when Anton discovers that Vincent is an employee of Gattaca, instead of turning him in, Anton tries to convince Vincent to leave voluntarily because he doesn't belong.  Even Vincent's own brother doesn't believe that he has what it takes.


Gattaca’s tagline, “There is no gene for the human spirit”, beautifully evokes the contrast between those who accept their limitations and those who strive to overcome them.  Anton may have been engineered to succeed, but instead of pursuing achievement he has become seduced by the idea of exclusion.  Vincent was hurled into the world faults and all, but is relentless in his drive to exceed his predefined bounds.  A childhood game of chicken between the brothers becomes the final test of Vincent’s unswerving dedication, and “Gattaca” presents the soul-stirring argument that what you are made of is not all that you are.  What you dream and hope and believe is also an integral, if not more important part of what it means to be human.


The Emperor’s New Groove

Tom Jones is the reason I am writing this review.  If he hadn’t sung the title song for this little-discussed Disney entry, I would not have had the distinct pleasure of laughing myself silly at one of the smarter, hipper Mouse House movies in the entire canon.  “The Emperor’s New Groove” was not an internal production, and I think that this is why the script feels so fresh, zany and exciting.  While celebrity voices in animation are often distracting because they're too distinct, John Goodman and David Spade are excellent choices for the main characters, Pasha and Kuzco.  Eartha Kitt brings a saucy, husky glower to the villainess Yzma, while Patrick Warburton almost steals the entire movie as Yzma’s brainless but lovable henchman, Kronk.


David Spade voices Kuzco, a spoiled rotten stripling of an Emperor determined to build a summer vacation palace on a hillside already occupied by Pasha and his family.  Spade's sneering adolescent narcissism perfectly mirrors Kuzco's vanity, while Pasha is the epitome of the earthy rustic farmer, and is given more veracity by the sonorous rumblings of John Goodman.  Pasha is incredulous that Kuzco doesn’t care about displacing his family and village, and Kuzco doesn’t care to explain.  He’s the Emperor, buh-bye!


However, Yzma also cannot stand the brat prince, and with Kronk’s bumbling assistance, Yzma plots to kill Kuzco and take his throne for herself.  Of course, plans go awry, and instead of killing Kuzco, Yzma’s magic potion turns him into a llama! Kuzco and Pasha find themselves stranded deep in the jungle, and their journey back to the palace forces Kuzco to begin thinking about things other than his own selfish needs.


“The Emperor’s New Groove” is a delight from start to finish, due in large part to the presence of a very elusive essence: comic atmosphere.  While most children’s films suffer from a frantic pace that often feels forced, this film is clearly influenced by the barely contained exuberance of Looney Tunes.  Creative joy bursts from nearly every frame, and the sense of frivolity is infectious.


The characters play brilliantly against each other, and the visual design is simple yet very striking.  There is also a lot for adults to appreciate, especially references to such films as “Starship Troopers” and the original version of “The Fly!”  The stellar scene involving the squirrel with the balloon animals had me rolling on the floor, breathless with laughter because I recognized that someone in the animation department was fan of Steve Martin in his stand up years!


Equilibrium

When this film came out on DVD, it looked to me like an overt and clumsy attempt to ride on the coattails of “The Matrix.”  Yet after I saw it, I earnestly wished that Christian Bale had been cast as Neo, because his performance in this film had all of the sombre gravitas that Keanu Reeves just cannot seem to conjure.  Of course, we didn’t know yet that the following Matrix films would be crushed under the weight of their own arrogance, so it’s better this way.  While “Equilibrium” has just as many plot holes as the Matrix trilogy, it is so entertaining that it doesn't matter.


After World War III devastates the Earth, humankind decides to outlaw emotion as a way of preventing further conflict.  Almost everyone voluntarily tranquilizes themselves, and specially trained enforcers called Grammaton Clerics who employ the martial art of gun kata strive to eliminate the few remaining factions that still wish to feel.  All art; books, music, and painting are being systematically destroyed.  Christian Bale plays John Preston, one of the best Clerics, who even allowed his own wife to be convicted and put to death for “sense offense.”  However, emotions have a way of hibernating, and even Preston is unaware of what sleeps beneath his conscious state.


The story begins when John Preston’s partner in enforcement, Cleric Errol Partridge, keeps a book of poems after a raid, and Preston is forced to execute Errol for reading the poems instead of turning in the book.  This ignites a chain of events that leads Preston to rediscover his emotional soul.  He tries to continue with his Cleric duties, but Preston's heart, starved for emotion, cannot be assuaged.  He begins skipping his daily dose.  Preston’s new Cleric partner, Brandt, played by the suave and wily Taye Diggs, watches Preston like a hawk, waiting for the cracks to show.  When Preston is recruited to infiltrate the Underground resistance as a sympathizer, he risks revealing too much of his internal struggle.


What makes “Equilibrium” so engrossing is that this very strong emotional undercurrent builds slowly to a final paroxysm of kinetic release within some of the better choreographed and staged action scenes I’ve seen in an American film.  Each fight has a distinct feel and is shot so that you can easily follow what’s happening.  This was a great relief to me, as most modern shoot-em-ups have become so incomprehensible that you just stop caring.  “Equilibrium” does not make that mistake.  The action is superlative, and is further enhanced by how much we care about John Preston’s desire to finally allow his heart to beat again.