Film 2012

So, here we are, another Oscar weekend, another self-imposed deadline for cutting off my Best of Films List. There are plenty of films from 2012 that I have positive expectations for, yet, never got a chance to view. As always though, I take reassurance from the fact that my rental queue grows ever longer--better to have too many choices than too few, right? Last year I posted a list of 11 films, plus two honorable mentions; this year, the list has swelled to include 15 best of's and five runners up. Were all the critics right, and this was a stronger year for cinema, or did I simply get out to the theater more often? Or both? Regardless, here they are, in no order whatsoever. (As before, country designations refer to the origins of the directors). 

1. Take This Waltz (Sarah Polley, Canada): On paper the plot of this film (the temptations of adultery) may sound awfully familar, but Polley and her actors invest it with a new found emotional force, creating a narrative that I could neither predict, nor decide how I wanted it to end. One of the most honest, moving and sexy films about relationships that I have seen in a long time.

2. The Avengers (Joss Whedon, USA): It is easy to look back now and say that this had a license to print money, but Marvel truly took a gamble on setting up these films the way they did. They have taken the time to construct an actual interconnected film universe. Not all the installments were equally successful, yet it all came together here for one terrifically fun film. Now, let's hope that Phase Two will be just, if not more, rewarding . . .

3. This Is Not a Film (Mojtaba Mirtahmasb, Jafar Panahi, Iran): Panahi has long been my favorite of the current generation of Iranian directors, his films being essential viewing for anyone trying to gain a fuller view of Iranian society beyond the stereotypes. Currently under house arrest and banned from filmmaking for political reason, he persisted with this "documentary" made inside his apartment, a moving, whimsical view of his current situation. (Still undeterred by the authorities, another clandestine film by Panahi recently debuted at the Berlin Film Festival). 

4. Frankenweenie (Tim Burton, USA): Funny, quirky, creepy, imaginative, in other words, a lovely Burton film. The animation is well crafted and devoted to detail -- Frankenweenie's movements naturally mimic those of a dog perfectly. As does Mr. Whiskers, or at least until his not-so-feline transformation . . .

5. For Ellen (So Yong Kim, Korea/USA): A simple story of a young man who despite all his past mistakes, longs to connect one last time with his young daughter before signing away all his visitation rights. Kim takes a familiar set-up, yet consistently avoids any of the cliche plot-turns you would expect from the material (i.e. no child gets lost in a mall). Anchored by a first-rate performance by Paul Dano, this character piece flew much lower under the radar than it deserved.

6. Neighboring Sounds (Kleber Mendonca Filho, Brasil): A decade ago, I was raving about the Brasilian documentary Bus 174, and how it portrayed a society completely at war with itself, from the luxury penthouses to the impoverished slums. The intervening ten years have brought to the country unexpected prosperity and previously unthinkable social mobility. Yet, as this powerful depiction of neighborhood life reminds us, not all ingrained ills can disappear overnight, nor can every crime be swept away under the rug of progress. Resentments still linger . . .

7. The Master (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA): Not a film that ever explains itself, but why should it? The acting, especially from Phoenix & Hoffman, is outstanding, while the visuals and atmosphere are captivating. Anderson has crafted a tale of drifting veterans and religious shysters of our past, yet, one wonders, how out of place would they be in our own time of war and searching?

8. Holy Motors (Leos Carax, France): An ode to the beauty of cinema, a riff on the absurdity of life, the fluidity of identity and the personas we keep shuffling. Technologies may evolve, CGI creatures replacing Lon Chaney's old box of makeup, but our emotions and the stories we tell about them stay the same. 

9.. Lincoln (Steven Spielberg, USA): Yes, it is a history lesson, but one that never drags or feels stale. Yes, Kushner has done a poor job of explaining some of his factual errors, yet, the strengths of his writing remain: his ability to script anachronistic dialogue naturally. In his hands the film is not only a celebration of what has been accomplished in the past, but, I believe, a reminder of the work for equality which remains for the present generation. Oh, and yes, Day-Lewis was that outstanding . . .

10. Footnote (Joseph Cedar, Israel): A portrait of bullying, and how the victim, given the opportunity, grows into a bully themselves. Cedar's insightful screenplay examines this phenomenon not only on the level of the individual (and the all too familiar refrain of "I am not my father"), but on the national level as well. A timely reminder of how we can unknowingly become what we originally feared and fled. 

11. Tabu (Miguel Gomes, Portugal): Beginning in the present day, before flashing back to the last days of colonial rule in Africa, Gomes' film is a wistful, moving look at not only a doomed love affair, but the departed (though not forgotten) way of life which was its setting. Lovely. 

12. Amour (Michael Haneke, Austria): Despite the ravages of age and illness, one couple continues to care for each other, trying their best, until the end, to provide whatever comfort, no matter how small, is within their power. Haneke and his actors capture perfectly the couple's interactions, allowing that they occasionally say the wrong thing or lose their patience, even under the best of times, only the devotion never ceases, even under the worst. At the end, Haneke leaves us with the hope, if we chose to believe it, that such bonds will never break, even onto death.

13. Silver Linings Playbook (David O. Russell, USA): What could have been another cutesy "quirky souls in love" type story, is instead a non-sentimental view of mental illness. Love does not simply solve all problems, but provides another outlet, another support along the way, as does family, once you figure out how to avoid (literally) strangling each other. A well-crafted story, well-played.  

14. Zero Dark Thirty (Kathryn Bigelow, USA): Like great art should, Bigelow and screenwriter Boal prod the viewer to ask many questions without providing many of the answers, the primary one being: Was it worth it? If torture was required to find bin Laden, was it worth it? If Maya denied herself any other pleasure from life but her work, finding herself utterly alone at the end, was it worth it? And what exactly was accomplished? Revenge? Attacks prevented? Possibly the most heart-breaking scene is after the raid, as the Seals unload all the intel gathered from bin Laden's home, and you realize that tomorrow another day will dawn and the conflict will continue unabated. Perhaps, it will never have an ending . . .

15. Argo (Ben Affleck, USA): And finally, a story about the Middle East that has a happy ending (how did Spielberg not get to this first?). Seriously, a fine piece of filmmaking, and one that does not let America off hook for events leading up to the Iranian Revolution. Affleck wisely lets the acting and directing be unobtrusive, letting the setting, the atmosphere and ultimately the story take center stage. From the opening raid of the embassy to the final flight, a gripping film.

Honorable Mention:
1. The Pirates! Band of Misfits (Peter Lord, John Newitt, England): Aardman demonstrates that they have not lost their knack for quality stories full of humor, winning characters and impressive set-pieces. Remember, though, "some of you are simply fish I put pirate hats on . . ."

2. Turin Horse (Bela Tarr, Hungary): Two people, a man and a woman, living a desolate existence (possibly) at the end of the world. Haunting. (See my earlier post, http://pacingmusings.blogspot.com/2011/10/ruminations-of-end.html, for a close examination).

3. The Dark Knight Rises(Christopher Nolan, England): A true rarity: a superhero film with a true, honest-to-goodness finale. Over three films Nolan created an arc with a real beginning, middle and end that was quite rewarding. True, the last installment did not quite reach the greatness of the previous (though that is a pretty high standard to meet), but it was still a satisfying conclusion. I wonder if this type of approach to film adaptations (creating a series of self-contained arcs) might be a way in which DC could differentiate itself from Marvel's world-building approach.

4.  Elena (Andrey Zcyagintsev, Russia): A woman begs her cold-hearted rich husband to help out her son from a previous relationship. He says no, and thus the plot starts to spin. A bleak look at contemporary society, where there are precious few opportunities for any happiness that don't involve possessing the required cash deposit . . .

5. Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Zeitlin, USA): I wanted to love this movie wholeheartedly, but something about it prevented me from being drawn into it 100% emotionally. So it goes. Still, it is a first-rate technical accomplishment with some superb acting.

Repertory Discoveries: This year's list starts with some classic 30's Hollywood comedy, moves on to late 50's drama and ends with a silent Soviet gloss on a Gogol short story. All three brilliant, in their own ways . . .
Ruggles of Red Gap; Bonjour Tristesse; The Overcoat
 
Performances: Denis Lavant, Edith Scob (Holy Motors); Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman (The Master); Michelle Williams, Luke Kirby, Seth Rogen (Take This Waltz); Paul Dano (For Ellen & Ruby Sparks); Daniel Day-Lewis, David Strathairn, Sally Field (Lincoln); Tom Hardy (The Dark Knight Rises), Tom Hiddleston, Robert Downey Jr (The Avengers); Leonardo DiCaprio (Django Unchained); Quvenzhane Wallis, Dwight Henry (Beasts of the Southern Wild); Jennifer Lawrence, Robert DeNiro (Silver Linings Playbook); Martin Freeman, Andy Serkis (The Hobbit); Jean-Louis Trintignant, Emmanuelle Riva, Isabelle Huppert (Amour) 

Best Ensemble: Take This Waltz, The Avengers, Lincoln, Neighboring Sounds, Amour

Best Cat: Dino (Cat in Paris)

Best Dog: Franekenweenie (Frankenweenie)

Best First Film: Neighboring Sounds

Best Sound Design: Neighboring Sounds

Best Period Piece Facial Hair: Lincoln (part of me will never grow tired of seeing so many muttonchops in one place . . . seriously, though: credit for making all that antiquated hair appear natural to the contemporary eye).

Best Score: Jonny Greenwood (The Master); Dan Romer, Benh Zeitlin (Beasts of the Southern Wild); Danny Elfman (Frankenweenie); Alexander Desplat (Argo & Zero Dark Thirty)

Best Use of Non-Original Music: Leonard Cohen's "Take This Waltz", The Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star" (Take This Waltz); The Ronettes' "Be My Baby"(Tabu); "The Star Spangled Banner" (The Dark Knight Rises); Philip Seymour Hoffman singing "Slow Boat to China" to Joaquin Phoenix in The Master

Hardest Working Musicians in Film: That German string quartet in The Avengers. I mean, seriously, come Hell, high water, or an attack by the Norse God of Lies and Mischief, those musicians are just going to sit there and play the gig goddammit (literally, I guess). Now, that's dedication to craft. (Or as my love pointed out, they could have just really needed that paycheck before the weekend's house party).

And You Were Doing So Well . . . : Flight & Ruby Sparks. Two strong films that mishandle the ending. In the former's case, it was a jump-the rails Hollywood cop-out (filled with snazzy ready-made Oscar clip moments), which while disappointing was not surprising. In the case of the latter, it was literally the very last scene which I felt undercut what came before it. Sigh.

Memento Mori: Studying the close-ups of Joaquin Phoenix in The Master, his face creased with lines and wondering if this is what his brother would look like today, if he had lived . . . 


Well, that pretty much covers it for the moment. Cheers

A Year in Music (Something Changed)

Instead of simply rattling off another list of my favorite albums released this year, I thought that I would provide a sampling of what's been on heavy rotation this past year, a partial soundtrack to my 2012 if you will. So here we go, in rough chronological order . . .

Charlotte Gainsbourg, Stage Whisper: "When you've been stuck here on the doorstep of nothing to forsake, well, you might as well be anyone's to take . . ." Every album Gainsbourg has released has been stronger than the previous, as her voice grows more mature with each outing. Listening to this disc, I discovered that I now find her live versions of many of the tracks from IRM more powerful than the original studio takes from only two years ago. (Meanwhile, her voice is also sounding more like her mother's, especially when singing in French).
Favorite tracks: "Memoir", "AF607105"(live), "Just Like a Woman"(live)

Pulp I: One of my first challenges of 2012 was charming a potential date through a mutual obsession of Pulp. In the end, it was pretty unsuccessful, but I am not going to complain about anything that led me to put Pulp's underrated This Is Hardcore back into regular rotation.
Favorites: "The Fear", "Glory Days", "Like a Friend"

Leonard Cohen, Old Ideas: "The splinters that you carry/The cross you left behind" Cohen is a master, one of my all time favorite singers, whose influence I am sure has seeped into my own poetry both consciously and otherwise. I offer no qualified praise for his most recent album, as others have, but plainly declare it without caveat a beautiful collection of songs. His last two albums have been a return to the feel of Recent Songs, which, in my mind at least, has been quite welcome.
Favorites: "Come Healing," "Going Home", "Show Me the Place"

Belle & Sebastian I: I was hanging out in the Village waiting for a delayed date, when I decided to see what was in the used CD section of Kim's. Hmmm, Tigermilk, that one Belle & Sebastian album I never got around to buying. Bought it, put it on at home the next day and  . . . wow. How exactly did I get by all this time without this disc? Stellar. (Oh the date? Complicated. It ended up going no where, but that's truly a story for another day . . . )
Favorites: "Expectations" "She's Losing It" "Mary Jo"
   
The Doors, Strange Days: Indeed they were, Jim, indeed they were . . .
Favorites: "People Are Strange" "Moonlight Drive"

Bob Dylan, Blonde on Blonde: Still capable of revelations after all this time . . .
Favorites: "Visions of Johanna," "Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again"

The Walker Brothers, No Regrets: Some uncanny timing & all of a sudden, so much more makes sense . . .
Favorites: "Hold an Old Friend's Hand", "Burn Our Bridges"

Johnny Cash, American IV, Live at San Quentin: Several years ago (yes, I'll admit that it was when Walk the Line was released) I tried to get into the music of Mr. Johnny Cash, yet for whatever reason it did not resonate with me at the time. Yes, I liked it (as familiar as it is, can anyone deny the hook of "Ring of Fire"?), yet something was missing. Maybe I needed time to pass, my ears to mature, or circumstances to shift. Whatever it was, it only took the first few notes of each of these albums for me to stop whatever I was doing at the moment and realize what I had been missing out on all this time . . .
Favorites: "The Man Comes Around," "Give My Love to Rose," "Wreck of the Old '97" "Darlin' Companion"

Scott Walker, Classics and Collectables: Someday, someone, somehow will reissue the remaining Walker albums from the 60s/70s that have never been on CD. Until then, we'll just have to get by with the second disc of this anthology. The record executives may have calling the tunes (literally) but he sang them oh so lovely . . .
Favorites: "The Me I Never Knew," "I Have Dreamed" "This Way Mary"  

Pulp II: The difference that a few months makes: from trying to seduce some gal through the internet to standing in Radio City Music Hall with my dearest love, basking together in the fact that we were actually seeing Pulp live. Not an imaginary story, not a dream sequence. This. Actually. Happened. Wow.
Favorites: "Common People" "Razzamtazz" "I Spy" "Something Changed" "Do You Remember the First Time" & all those countless other songs that I have been obsessed with these past 15 odd years . . .

Spiritualized, Sweet Heart, Sweet Light: Following up on the strength of Songs in A&E, Mr. Pierce has put together another beauty of layered rock music. Yes, he may still subscribe to the rule of "why use just one gospel choir, when you can use two," but it works, oh so so well. If you've got some good stereo speakers, this is the time to use 'em . . .
Favorites: "So Long Pretty Thing," "Life Is a Problem"

Frank Sinatra, Songs for Swingin' Lovers: What better way to begin a Memorial Day weekend than with this classic album? Some things simply don't age (OK, "Making Whoopee" kinda does, but damnit, he still sings it like a pro . . .).
Favorites: "You Make Me Feel So Young," "Too Marvelous for Words"

Belle & Sebastian II(Push Barman to Open New Wounds): As I said, some things never grow old, this two disc collection of gems being among them. 
Favorites: "String Bean Jean," "Belle & Sebastian", "This Is Just a Modern Rock Song," "Jonathan David" "Marx & Engels"

J.S. Bach, Brandenburg Concertos: Eight discs of a Baroque master's music to soak up, which may take awhile (several months later, I'm still absorbing it all) but well worth it . . .  
Favorites: Concerto #5

Bob Dylan, Tempest: Another stellar late career album from Mr. Zimmerman. Plus, who would have guessed 50 some years ago that not only would he eventually record a 14 minute long piece about the sinking of the Titanic with a gloss, but it would be among the most moving songs of his career?
Favorites: "Tempest" "Soon after Midnight"

Bill Fay, Life Is People: "Souls arriving constantly/From the shores of eternity/Birds and bees and butterflies/Parade before my eyes." A collection of meditations on the universe and our place in it, our search for love, grace & peace, all conveyed through lush arrangements and with Fay's typical humility. No less than his "Time of the Last Persecution" (written 40 years ago in response to the killings at Kent State), music for the days we live in . . .
Favorites: "The Healing Day", "Never Ending Happening"

Wolfgang Mozart, Don Giovanni: The opera I spent the most time with this year, including a revisiting of the current production at the Met. It also inspired a one-act play which I might return to for further tweaking in the new year, or I may abandon, or, well, we'll see . . .
Favorites: "Madamina, Il Catalogo E' Questo" 

Dave Brubeck Quartet, Live at Oberlin: Even before Mr. Brubeck's recent passing, this was one of my more highly played jazz albums. It's a perennial favorite, which now has added poignancy to it . . .
Favorites: "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)"

Luke Haines, The Oliver Twist Manifesto: Sly, poppy, philosophical, irreverent, brilliant . . .
Favorites: "Oliver Twist", "Christ"

Meanwhile, there's a stack of year end acquisitions that I need to catch up on -- what? Oh, and there's a new Thao and the Get Down Stay Down out in a month? Better get listening . . .

Cheers all, and best wishes for 2013.

 

Verses after a Storm

I woke on Tuesday with a poem in my head. It was the morning after Hurricane Sandy made landfall, and I was relieved to discover that I had been spared the worst of the storm. The power was on, water was flowing, and both my partner and I were safe in our home. I know that many others were much less fortunate, and that, as I write this, too many are still lacking basic necessities. For them, returning to normal shall take longer. I am thankful for my good luck, and offer these verses from my perspective:

The Sensation of Subtle Sounds

I awake to a variety of subtle sounds:

A hammer tapping,

Tires gliding over damp streets,

While footfalls trod upon the sidewalk,

And from some nearby, though uncertain location,

Soft organ music surfaces.

Eventually, the more obtrusive voice of a leaf blower joins the mix

Along the front walk,

Another sign of moving on,

A partial return, at least, to a routine of daily life.

But most reassuring

(As it has been throughout the storm)

Is the sensation of your warm body

Wrapped tightly in my loving embrace . . . 

*      *     *

Best wishes to all . .  .

photo by creighton blinn, all rights reserved

 

Glasses Ever Darkly

Religious skeptics have a long history of reexamining religious phenomenons through an ever changing lens of science. Some of these thinkers attempt to construct a middle path between the two perspectives, demonstrating how science is simply a natural outflowing of Divine Providence. Others use a more antagonistic method, employing science as a conflicting explanation for what was once believed to be miraculous or supernatural. One such example of this latter approach is the 1922 film Haxan:Witchcraft through the Ages. Made by the underrated Danish director Benjamin Christensen, this silent movies explores the history of witchcraft in Europe. While the film begins with a series of images tracing the iconography of the Devil to pre-Christian times, it soon settles into the Medieval period. What follows are a series of reenactments depicting the staples of witchcraft folklore: the local village witch, the Black Mass, black cats, demonically possessed nuns, etc. These visually stunning sequences seek to recreate a world where any tiny physical detail could be viewed as some potent for deep distress, and superstitions could be fatal, especially during a visit from itinerant witch-hunters. Christensen clearly holds to the view of Medieval Europe as The Dark Ages devoid of any science or reason (there is even a short segment demonstrating the cruel fate of medical students brazen enough to study cadavers). This attitude towards religion is reinforced in the final section of the film. Here Christensen revisits the extraordinary occurrences of earlier centuries, and explains them away by using the, then current, prism of Psychoanalysis. In such a manner, the possessed nun who disfigures images of her Lord Jesus is compared to a high class society shoplifter. Both commit their crimes unconsciously, in an attempt to strike out against an environment within which they feel powerless. They are simply sleepwalking through a life that they do not understand. Such individuals should not be feared or condemned, but pitied. Circumstances have made them who they are, and sympathetic treatment will help. Prejudice will only make the situation worse, until you have not one distressed nun, who has slid into disillusion, but an entire convent which has lost its reason.

As I stated above, perspectives shift over time, so that 90 years later, Christensen's linking of witchcraft and hysteria may seem more simplistic than profound. After all, in the intervening years we have witnessed many types of "illnesses" swept under the catch-all rug of  "hysteria." In fact, many contemporary thinkers, including some within psychology, would smirk at the thought of Psychoanalysis being labeled a "science" instead of merely another philosophy, another set of theoretical beliefs. Probing for a deeper understanding often leads to a more complicated portrait, which, in turn, leads me to Beyond the Hills.

Beyond the Hills, which I viewed last weekend at the New York Film Festival, is the most recent movie by the Romanian director Christian Mungiu. It centers on the relationship between two young women who bonded deeply while living in an orphanage. (The film implies that their relationship may have included lesbian elements, but leaves the matter up to the viewer's interpretation). At the beginning of the film Alina is returning to Romania after living abroad in Germany for three years; the reason for her return is to visit her former companion, Voichita, who is now a nun in a local monastery. Alina has been troubled lately, and wants her old friend to accompany her back to Germany. Voichita is willing, but the priest in charge refuses to grant her leave. As the tension between the two women grows, so does Alina's mental distress, which quickly comes to include violent outbursts and attacks against the priest and other nuns. Mungiu never offers a clinical diagnosis of Alina's condition, yet it would appear to be some sort of bipolar disorder or even schizophrenia. (Once again, the reality of mental illness is much uglier than in the rose-tinted world of Ron Howard). The priest and nuns wish to help Alina, but have been given precious little guidance from the doctors which examine Alina after a suicide attempt and violent attack on the community. Left to fend for themselves, they ultimately resort to their own frame of reference: the young woman must be possessed by the devil. In such a way, Mungiu, like Christensen, presents how supernatural lore of old might have quite concrete roots in today's accepted science. Unlike the earlier director, however, Mungiu, does not scapegoat believers for their faith. When tragedy arrives, the priest is the only person anywhere in the film to take responsibility for what has occurred. He may have been wrong to do what he did, but at least his compassion moved him to try something, which is much more than can be said for any secular authority (civil service or medical) who had an opportunities to intervene in Alina's life. At the Q&A after the screening, Mungiu explained that he wished to examine the consequences of indifference, and make us think twice about those troubled souls who we ignore every day with a shrug of our shoulders. In such a way, Mungiu is working in the same tradition as Christensen, whose film is also a plea for sympathy towards those whose thoughts and actions are not easily understood. (Finally, it should be noted that both directors' took their inspiration from recorded incidents; in the case of Beyond the Hills, it was events which occurred less than a decade ago).

Taken together, these two films demonstrate a shared interest in understanding the human experience in order to gain a deeper compassion for those in need of assistance. The fact that one film may be more nuanced than the other simply shows how that search for understanding is a perpetual process of growth. After all, who can predict how thinkers a century from will consider our most profound thoughts on human behavior? We cannot. We can only continue searching for a deeper answer, acknowledging that our comprehension shall never be complete, that the glass will always remain somewhat darkly . . .

Cheers

Returning with a Poem

Sorry that I have been away for awhile, but, there has been much going on in my life. I am happy to report, though, that these developments have been quite positive & I am in good spirits. It also pleases me to say that I have been keeping at my writing, composing new pieces and performing them around the city. Today, I would like to share with you a poem which was inspired by music. For a few years now, I have been a fan of the Portuguese tradition of fado. Introduced to this music by one of my oldest friends, I quickly fell in love with its sounds and melodies. Last December BAM hosted a weekend of fado concerts, which I eagerly devoured. The vast majority of the acts were quite strong and the audience very receptive. The first night I was so swept up in the music that, after leaving the main stage, I was compelled to check out the cafe for even more fado. After the show ended, I stopped in a nearby bar for a drink, and wrote a poem. As a final note, I should add that the word fado is usually translated as "fate."

 

Fado

Fado is a mournful music

Made up of somber rhythms

And solemn tones

Comprising a lament,

As well as an acceptance,

For what once was

But now has been lost.

Yet, its songs may not always be funereal;

At times they might contain the sounds of celebration

Set to a more lively tempo

Offering up defiance

In the face of circumstances

Which try to confine our movements.

We strain, instead, to be their master

By proclaiming our fado

In a voice of our own choosing.

 
For those interested in sampling the diversity of fado, I would recommend Carlos Saura's film Fados. Not a talking heads history, but instead a series of performances which run from traditional to contemporary, all of which are strikingly staged. (That Saura is well known for his ability to capture dance on film is readily apparent). Here are two excerpts, both featuring Mariza, one of the most well regarded living fado singers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4jNIi7QYPM&feature=BFa&list=PL240757B2F57FE380
&
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0_rHpY3wf8&feature=BFa&list=PL240757B2F57FE380


Cheers. 

Violent Entertainments & Hungry Games

Yesterday I finished reading Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games, which I thought was quite good. Collins has crafted strong, intriguing characters, and placed them in a believable fictional world. As I have two more volumes of the series to go, I shall keep my speculation on further developments to myself for the moment, though I shall say that I am eager to see what happens next. Also, I hope to keep this post free from spoilers.

So, instead of plot mechanics, I would like to touch upon theme this afternoon. For those unfamiliar with the narrative, it revolves around a future society in what was once termed "North America." In the aftermath of a crushed social revolution, the elite have instituted an annual competition (the titular Games) in which 24 youngsters between the ages of twelve and eighteen are tossed into the wilderness and manipulated into killing each other. The last remaining survivor wins. This contest is broadcast live throughout the nation for the great pleasure of well-off city folk and to the poorer classes as a reminder of their utter subservience. For the benefit of both audiences, the more bloody and harrowing the competition, the better.

One of the reasons this book works is that Collins gets the tone right. It is, after all, a fine line to write a critique of violence as entertainment without your story becoming entertaining violence itself. Collins' keeps her story dark, never portraying her main characters reveling in any of their kills. When death happens it is quick and usually gruesome. This is not violence that has been sanitized for your protection. What is extra chilling is imagining all the citizens of the nation's posh Capital sitting around their living rooms, munching on snacks (popcorn anyone?), laughing and simply having a jolly good time watching all the maiming. Roman gladiators are clearly one reference, as are more contemporary sports and pastimes -- even someone who has viewed as little reality television as myself can pick up on the tropes riffed on by the packaged presentation of the Games to the populace. It would seem once again that from the Coliseum to today to the future there is precious little alteration in human nature.

Which leads me to the fact that somehow this story has been turned into a "major motion picture." I do not believe that there exists an "unfilmable" book, though some offer more challenges than others. What Collins merely described in her novel must now be rendered into moving images. In the process, the filmmakers have to find a way not only to maintain the balanced edge of Collins' narrative in their screenplay, but also transfer that tone to the screen. In other words, for this movie to work, in my mind, it should disgust the viewer. The violence should make your stomach turn, sicken you. Like the novel, there should be no catharsis in the kill, even if it saves a beloved character's life. This is not the type of story to elicit an audience reaction of "oh man, did you see how the spear just pierced her throat like that? Awesome!" If it is, well then, what's the difference between you and the citizens of the Capital placing bets on these young kids and hoping that this year's bloodbath will be even more thrilling than the previous?

This is not to say that violence cannot be entertaining (I read superhero comics, OK?), but that I feel it is the wrong tone for this particular story and the message its author wishes to convey. It is also true that intentions and reception are two different things (i.e. those viewers who somehow thought that A Clockwork Orange was a fun film worth imitating).

While reading the book, my mind was brought back to Peter Watkins' film Punishment Park. Made in the early 1970s, the British director imagines an America where political dissidents (read leftists & hippies) are arrested for sedition. They are given the option of prolonged prison sentences or a short stay in "Punishment Park." The park, as it turns out, is a dessert that they must cross (without supplies) in order to win their freedom. Only, it slowly dawns on the viewer that the whole thing is a set up, as National Guard troopers start killing them off one by one. It is a highly brutal and disturbing movie, yet also the closest example I could think of what I believe a Hunger Games film should resemble.

Not that Hollywood would let anyone like Peter Watkins near a property with as much profit potential as this one. Nope, instead we get Gary Ross. Gary Ross? The guy who made Pleasantville, a film that copped-out at any & every opportunity at nuance? A film that refused to truly challenge the audience or ask of it any question for which the filmmakers did not have a ready-made pat answer? A movie that avoided addressing any real issue of how actions have their consequences, both good and bad? This is the director to whom they've entrusted the book? Sorry, I'll pass. (At least they didn't find some way to cast Tobey Maguire in this one. Come on, you know that he auditioned for Thresh . . . :)).

As I said at the beginning, I have only just finished book one of the trilogy, and apologize if anything I have written is contradicted by the following two volumes. (Though, if they are, please be kind and do not respond to this post in such a way that spoils them for me. Thanks). I feel as though I have a sense where Collins is headed and that "the center shall not hold." Oh wait, I said that I would avoid second-guessing the author at this stage . . .

Cheers

Postscript, 3-22-12: So, I was on the subway yesterday, reading Catching Fire as part on my morning commute, when it suddenly occurred to me who should have been handed the job of adapting The Hunger Games: Alfonso Cuaron. The man has experience adapting children's/young adult literature (A Little Princess, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban). The latter film also demonstrated that he can deliver profits on a big-budget fanchise Event -- gotta keep the accountants happy, you know?  At the same time, he has shown an ability to see into the more complicated aspects of young psyches (Y Tu Mama Tambien). Most importantly, there is Children of Men. One of the reasons I have always admired this film is the starkness of Cuaron's presentation of violence; it is sudden, often short, and always harrowing. In other words, just how I would imagine that The Hunger Games should be faithfully handled on screen, especially now that I have a glimpse of where the second book is going (only a little over a hundred pages into it so far). True, Cuaron has had his misses (though, if the only good thing that came out of his Great Expectations is Pulp's song "Like a Friend", well, then that whole movie might have worth it anyhow). Still, maybe, if I cross my fingers long enough The Powers that Be will give Senor Cuaron a chance at Catching Fire. One can hope at any rate . . .

I have yet to read any of the advanced reviews of the Hunger Games film, so it is always possible that my pessimism shall be proven wrong. We'll find out soon enough . . .

Cheers.