End Of The Week Shorts #79
How beautiful that it is that a story--told perfectly--from a land before time is a story of the ever-present moment, of an unending, cyclical movement between abjection and hope traversed through courage and unity. And what a brilliant story to be raised on, to visit again today.
Told with a rare degree of pictorial harmony, characters that exude personality, drama that balances symbolic action, pathos, tragedy and heroism and a poignantly intense sense of adventure, The Land Before Time is a masterpiece in the realm of the family film. So simple, so touching, this is almost impossible to fault. If anything, this should be a film that endures for many decades more.
I got about halfway through before abandoning Sausage Party, so this review shouldn't count for much, but the sexual humour is incredibly childish whilst the animation is ok, the voice performances mediocre and the script wobbly. Seth Rogan and co seem to be in a similar realm to Adam Sandler and his Happy Maddison group in that both make comedic films with the same group of people that formulate their own genre whose comedy is often self -reflexive. This so often means that the film - whether it be This Is The End, Grown Ups, That's My Boy or this - seems to have been more fun to have made for the creators than it is for the audiences to watch. Furthermore, this leaves most jokes feeling like inside ones that audiences are somewhat awkwardly let in on. The end product is a little like looking in on skits that young teenagers made whilst having a laugh.
A quaint short film about a writer's block, Boles essentially deals with a writer who lacks inspiration, who has no reason to write anything. He seems to find this when a prostitute who lives in the same building as him (whom he also sometimes spies on) asks him to write a letter to her finance for her. He struggles at first, seemingly wrestling with his own perception of the woman, but moving past his projections, moving into the complexity of a real person and confronting her humanity, the writer finds a way to write again. In completing the letter, however, he comes to realise that the prostitute never was - which emphasises the necessity for a psychological reading of the story, one with links maybe to some kind of archetypal distortion or possession.
Short and visually rewarding, this is a story told rather well and with simple means. Worth finding and viewing.
I have seen Top Gun more times than I can count, and I can't say that it has got better as I've aged.
The characters have become far more shallow in my perception and, to this day, despite seeing this at least 20 times, I still don't really understand the plot as it unfolds. Maybe that is just my attention failing me. That said, I can appreciate the cinematography, especially in the opening and scenes like it; the exploitation of a rising/setting sun, of cloud, smog, fire-breathing engines and more conjures such sumptuous imagery, the atmosphere of so many shots thick and almost palpable. And the aerial combat scenes--emphasis on sound design and direction--brilliant. I have no idea how these were put on to film as well as they have been; the illusion of continuity is not perfect, but it has its effect. On the whole, however, this just feels silly and empty and so I can't say I particularly enjoyed it too much this time around.
What a joy it is to re-watch The Birth of a Nation.
I cannot say that Griffith's so-called masterpiece impresses me much; I'm far more impressed by his earlier chase films, such as The Lonedale Operator, and his later melodramas, such as True Heart Susie. The Birth of a Nation sits in between these two periods in Griffith's career quite awkwardly. The Lonedal Operator shows a sophisticated sense of time and cross-cutting (Birth improves upon this, it must be said, but not very much). True Heart Susie shows Griffith utilising his sentimental approach to narrative to a far less insidious, more character-based and, arguably, more photogénic, manner - Birth is pretty much devoid of the latter two elements. Without a focus on character and without a narrative of much substance (ethical or otherwise) Birth feels to me to be an achievement in scale significantly less impressive and groundbreaking than both Pastrone's Cabiria and Griffith's own Intolerance. I can then only question the legitimacy of Birth's place in film history.
What makes a movie a classic? When it comes to Casablanca, I can only empathise with Ingrid Bergman and say... I don't really know.
The cinematography is excellent, the script isn't bad, the performances are ok, the characters are fine--objectively, this isn't particularly great. In describing the phenomena of Casablanca's fame, an Italian critic has said that "Two clichés make us laugh. A hundred clichés move us". The rather cynical and disinterested part of me wants only to agree with this assessment. Casablanca never meant much to me; I can only care for it as an Ingrid Bergman picture, but, her character, whilst the harbinger of the most complex drama, is left to the side and ignored so that Bogart can sulk because the screenwriter is withholding exposition. The sentimentality, the romance, the politics, the apathy, the stoicism... not for me.
Every time I watch a new stand-up special, I feel like I am losing my sense of humour. Maybe I'm too familiar with the stand-up comedy of these days, maybe there's too much of it out there, maybe joy has escaped me, maybe there's not much good comedy being staged. All I know is that, whilst I was amused, I didn't laugh - and it's been quite a while since I have.
Coraline has a brilliantly multi-layered narrative with a plethora of psychoanalytical elements about a coming of age; a girl moving into puberty, becoming aware of boys, yet having childish naivety call her back towards an opened-armed mother - one that is not anymore. There is then a sadness in this film - a remorseful look back upon one's tangible childhood that has just passed them by and will never be seen again - that is overlaid with horror and comedy. I would be fascinated to see this movie try to empathise with Coraline on this more remorseful, naively melancholic front instead of only engaging her with heroic expectations. That said, whilst more may have been explored with this film, what has found its way to screen is purely ingenious. Much has to do with Neil Gaiman's original story, but its condensation and visualisation is astounding. A joy to re-watch and a film that always ends before I'd like it to.
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Top Gun - Contrivance: Manipulative Soundtracks & Literal Melodrama
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Approaching Epstein - Photogénie & Lyrosophie
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