Movie Reviews
Haven't done one of these in a long time, so it feels a little weird. These may be short or long, depending on the film.
La Chinoise (1967)
It's the generation of Marx and Coca-Cola in Jean-Luc Godard's La Chinoise, as he follows a group of young radical students. The story is based on The Possessed by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - a group of students who eventually become so radicalized that they decide the only forward path is through violence. There's only one issue: these students are incredibly privileged and are guilty of gross incompetence.
In a lot of ways, Godard seemed to predict some of the mannerisms of radicalized groups, especially the violence. However, what he also predicted was how these radicals espoused equality for all and yet still expected subservience out of women. We see this most exemplified in Juliet Berto's Yvonne who is constantly doing domestic work. Whereas the men get to do whatever they want in the apartment (that, by the way, they only live in because one has an aunt that loaned it to them).
Jean-Pierre Leaud's Guillaume is an actor who doesn't seem to understand the difference between when he's putting on an act and when he isn't. One member of the group, Kirilov, seems to have more of a capacity for depression than the others and eventually commits suicide. And Henri is kicked out of the group for not being radical enough. His alleged crime? He's a pacifist.
However, the member with the most power seems to be Anne Wiazemsky's Veronique. Initially, she seems very meek and submissive. But her coldness becomes apparent all too quickly, when trying to teach her boyfriend (Guillaume) about Mao's struggle on two fronts, shows him that he can listen to music and understand her declaration of, "I don't love you anymore," at the same time. While he is struggling to keep his emotional front together, she indifferently continues with her studies.
Veronique is the only member who is willing to commit violence to further her idealistic notions. When discussing communism with philosopher Francis Jeanson, her dogmatism becomes apparent. It ends in a shooting at the wrong apartment.
What Jean-Luc Godard was always fascinated with was how his characters would present themselves to the camera. Not how he would film them on camera, but how they would react when the eye of the camera was on them. All of the characters are interviewed in La Chinoise and what is realized quickly is that even the radicalized are aware of the gaze of the public. The notion of attention, of popularity.
It is here where radicalization and pop culture intersect. In many ways, Veronique and her group view themselves as the comic images of Batman and Superman that flit through the film. The saddest part about this film, and perhaps about youth, is that they seem more interested in the public viewing them as comic vigilantes than their radical views becoming reality.
A Woman is a Woman (1961)
Try imagining a musical without any musical numbers.
I know it's hard. But that is the goal of A Woman is a Woman. In the beginning, we are given what may be a musical number, but are robbed as the music cuts out while Anna Karina sings. This is another tool of Jean-Luc Godard's - to use music in "incorrect" ways in a film or to cut sound out entirely so that the music doesn't direct your emotions. It's used constantly throughout his films, but never is it more apparent than in his contemporary version of a musical.
There is a lack of direct communication as well. Perhaps one of the most memorable moments of this film is when Anna Karina's Angela and her boyfriend, Emile (Jean-Claude Brialy), get into a fight and declare that they will not speak to each other anymore. They start grabbing books off of the shelves and covering up words so that only "Monster" or "Asshole" are seen, silently insulting each other. When Angela tries to apologize to Emile for having sex with Jean-Paul Belmondo's Alfred, she pulls out a book that has a romantic title.
What is apparent in this film is that communication between the sexes, at least in the 1960's, was difficult. Angela wants to have a baby but Emile mocks her constantly for it. When he promises her that they have to get married to have a baby, he then dashes her dreams by insinuating that he might not want to get married. He does not seem to understand just what having a child would mean to Angela. And yet, he expects her to act like a wife.
Alfred, on the other hand, is devoted to Angela and constantly tries to woo her gently away from Emile. When Emile suggests that Angela have sex with Alfred to conceive a child, Alfred doesn't seem too bothered by the notion. Neither men seem to be fulfilling Angela's desires though.
While it may seem wrong to have Angela stay with the petulant Emile who she is constantly arguing with, it's also a bit of a critique on musicals. If Alfred seems too good to be true, it's because he is. He doesn't exist in reality. It's the Emile aspect of a relationship that is real. A push and pull of loving one another and then arguing.
One could say then that A Woman is a Woman is a deconstruction of a musical.
Knives Out (2019) (And, by extension, Murder on the Orient Express (1974))
What is propelling Knives Out is an excellent cast. I don't think this film would work nearly as well if the actors involved weren't so good at spoofing your usual cast of who-dun-it stories. Toni Colette, in particular, nearly steals the film at moments. Chris Evans is excellent at portraying a character who is so obviously guilty of the crime . . . or is he?! And there's a great play between Daniel Craig's eccentric Benoit Blanc with his Louisiana drawl (one of the funniest lines spoken in this film is from Chris Evans: "What is this, CSI: KFC?"), Lakeith Stanfield's by-the-books Detective Elliot, and the local fanboy, Trooper Wagner. It almost felt a little Twin Peaks to me.
The crime is pretty easy to figure out immediately. But that's not the point of this film. The point of Knives Out is to play as an homage and a spoof of classic murder mysteries of yore. And it's loads of fun to watch. That being said, there is a critique of class going on in this film. I've found that many films that were made in 2019 were critiques of class, perhaps my favoring being Ready or Not.
So of course, immediately after watching this film, I had to watch l'original. The Murder of the Orient Express. Of the 1974 variant. You want to talk about an amazing cast, man. I am in love with Vanessa Redgrave's cheekiness.
I would prefer not to spoil the ending, as it's a really good one. But it gave me a better understanding of Knives Out. I would definitely recommend both. Better yet, make it a double feature night!
Onward (2020)
Onward is . . . okay. It's essentially Zootopia, except with an urban-fantasy setting and without the story on prejudice. I feel like the makers of the film couldn't decide what they wanted: to make a fully crafted world or to make a really emotional story. Because they couldn't decide, both feel a little . . . lack-luster. That being said, there are some great elements here.
There are some wonderful visual jokes with this melding of urban and fantasy. The best part of this entire film is the motorcycle gang of pixies. They are some rude jerks and reminded me of that scene from Labyrinth when Sarah grabs a fairy. I enjoyed the centaur cop as well. My favorite character was Corey the manticore, who works as a general manager of a "tavern" and is extremely shy about her more fearful attributes.
I think the story had some really excellent moments in it as well, but there was so much time spent with world creation that there wasn't enough time to build emotion. Brothers Ian and Barley have the chance to see their father again through a spark of magic. However, the spell is screwed up and only half of their father is there with them (a blatant metaphor).
What is truly special about this film is the message: that you don't need a father to have been parented well. But very little time is spent on this. Nor are we ever given view into Barley's childhood fear of having to say goodbye to a father hooked up on medical devices. This is something I have personal experience with that probably would have affected me deeply if it had been more integrated into the film.
But you win some, you lose some with Pixar. I loved Toy Story 4, so there was bound to be one that let me down, even if it was just a little.
Tangled (2010)
I enjoyed Tangled exponentially more than Frozen. Which is funny, because Frozen was billed as a feminist film about women who didn't need men (they actually did) and had a strong sisterly bond (that was never explored). I think it's because Tangled was never billed as something "feminist" that allowed me to enjoy it. Because while the male lead is a vehicle to leading this Rapunzel outside, every single step she takes is of her own volition.
Tangled is also explicitly about emotional abuse, which is something I have vast experience with. So perhaps that allowed me to identify a little more with Rapunzel than Elsa or Anna. "Mother Knows Best" is such an excellent villain song because it is essentially passive-aggressive emotional abuse. Mother Gothel tells her daughter, Rapunzel, that she can't possibly go outside because she's not bright enough, not talented enough, not strong enough, and starting to "get kind of chubby."
When Rapunzel does finally leave her home, she expresses emotions that felt authentic. One moment, she's rolling through the grass, finally being able to feel it under her feet. The next, she's bawling and calling herself a horrible daughter. Then, flying happily around a tree. Then, back to bawling. Guilt is a really powerful emotion. When I started cutting people out of my life who had been abusive to me, I felt immense guilt about it. But ultimately, what's more important, is rebuilding a relationship with yourself. I was so identified with the words of someone else that it took me a long time to get to know who I was again. So I'm glad to see those emotions, expressed in a children's film.
Rapunzel is itemized in Tangled. Mother Gothel sees her not as a daughter, but as a way to extend her life. The two criminals view her as something to sell. It's only Eugene who views her as a person, someone who is not considered as important in society. Eugene is an orphan who grows up to become a thief, basing his image on a swashbuckling fictional hero. His identity as a thief though is one of his own creation.
And I think this is interesting in Tangled, that there are so many illusions in the film. No one is really what they seem. Eugene isn't really a thief, the ruffians aren't really ruffians, Mother Gothel isn't really a mother, and Rapunzel isn't devoid of talent or brains or strength.
I was a little shocked that I enjoyed Tangled so much, but everything works in it. The anachronistic jokes are fun, the humor between Rapunzel and Eugene's growing relationship is amusing, and Maximus is perhaps one of the best animated animals in all of Disney history.
More later (?).
La Chinoise (1967)
It's the generation of Marx and Coca-Cola in Jean-Luc Godard's La Chinoise, as he follows a group of young radical students. The story is based on The Possessed by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - a group of students who eventually become so radicalized that they decide the only forward path is through violence. There's only one issue: these students are incredibly privileged and are guilty of gross incompetence.
In a lot of ways, Godard seemed to predict some of the mannerisms of radicalized groups, especially the violence. However, what he also predicted was how these radicals espoused equality for all and yet still expected subservience out of women. We see this most exemplified in Juliet Berto's Yvonne who is constantly doing domestic work. Whereas the men get to do whatever they want in the apartment (that, by the way, they only live in because one has an aunt that loaned it to them).
Jean-Pierre Leaud's Guillaume is an actor who doesn't seem to understand the difference between when he's putting on an act and when he isn't. One member of the group, Kirilov, seems to have more of a capacity for depression than the others and eventually commits suicide. And Henri is kicked out of the group for not being radical enough. His alleged crime? He's a pacifist.
However, the member with the most power seems to be Anne Wiazemsky's Veronique. Initially, she seems very meek and submissive. But her coldness becomes apparent all too quickly, when trying to teach her boyfriend (Guillaume) about Mao's struggle on two fronts, shows him that he can listen to music and understand her declaration of, "I don't love you anymore," at the same time. While he is struggling to keep his emotional front together, she indifferently continues with her studies.
Veronique is the only member who is willing to commit violence to further her idealistic notions. When discussing communism with philosopher Francis Jeanson, her dogmatism becomes apparent. It ends in a shooting at the wrong apartment.
What Jean-Luc Godard was always fascinated with was how his characters would present themselves to the camera. Not how he would film them on camera, but how they would react when the eye of the camera was on them. All of the characters are interviewed in La Chinoise and what is realized quickly is that even the radicalized are aware of the gaze of the public. The notion of attention, of popularity.
It is here where radicalization and pop culture intersect. In many ways, Veronique and her group view themselves as the comic images of Batman and Superman that flit through the film. The saddest part about this film, and perhaps about youth, is that they seem more interested in the public viewing them as comic vigilantes than their radical views becoming reality.
A Woman is a Woman (1961)
Try imagining a musical without any musical numbers.
I know it's hard. But that is the goal of A Woman is a Woman. In the beginning, we are given what may be a musical number, but are robbed as the music cuts out while Anna Karina sings. This is another tool of Jean-Luc Godard's - to use music in "incorrect" ways in a film or to cut sound out entirely so that the music doesn't direct your emotions. It's used constantly throughout his films, but never is it more apparent than in his contemporary version of a musical.
There is a lack of direct communication as well. Perhaps one of the most memorable moments of this film is when Anna Karina's Angela and her boyfriend, Emile (Jean-Claude Brialy), get into a fight and declare that they will not speak to each other anymore. They start grabbing books off of the shelves and covering up words so that only "Monster" or "Asshole" are seen, silently insulting each other. When Angela tries to apologize to Emile for having sex with Jean-Paul Belmondo's Alfred, she pulls out a book that has a romantic title.
What is apparent in this film is that communication between the sexes, at least in the 1960's, was difficult. Angela wants to have a baby but Emile mocks her constantly for it. When he promises her that they have to get married to have a baby, he then dashes her dreams by insinuating that he might not want to get married. He does not seem to understand just what having a child would mean to Angela. And yet, he expects her to act like a wife.
Alfred, on the other hand, is devoted to Angela and constantly tries to woo her gently away from Emile. When Emile suggests that Angela have sex with Alfred to conceive a child, Alfred doesn't seem too bothered by the notion. Neither men seem to be fulfilling Angela's desires though.
While it may seem wrong to have Angela stay with the petulant Emile who she is constantly arguing with, it's also a bit of a critique on musicals. If Alfred seems too good to be true, it's because he is. He doesn't exist in reality. It's the Emile aspect of a relationship that is real. A push and pull of loving one another and then arguing.
One could say then that A Woman is a Woman is a deconstruction of a musical.
Knives Out (2019) (And, by extension, Murder on the Orient Express (1974))
What is propelling Knives Out is an excellent cast. I don't think this film would work nearly as well if the actors involved weren't so good at spoofing your usual cast of who-dun-it stories. Toni Colette, in particular, nearly steals the film at moments. Chris Evans is excellent at portraying a character who is so obviously guilty of the crime . . . or is he?! And there's a great play between Daniel Craig's eccentric Benoit Blanc with his Louisiana drawl (one of the funniest lines spoken in this film is from Chris Evans: "What is this, CSI: KFC?"), Lakeith Stanfield's by-the-books Detective Elliot, and the local fanboy, Trooper Wagner. It almost felt a little Twin Peaks to me.
The crime is pretty easy to figure out immediately. But that's not the point of this film. The point of Knives Out is to play as an homage and a spoof of classic murder mysteries of yore. And it's loads of fun to watch. That being said, there is a critique of class going on in this film. I've found that many films that were made in 2019 were critiques of class, perhaps my favoring being Ready or Not.
So of course, immediately after watching this film, I had to watch l'original. The Murder of the Orient Express. Of the 1974 variant. You want to talk about an amazing cast, man. I am in love with Vanessa Redgrave's cheekiness.
I would prefer not to spoil the ending, as it's a really good one. But it gave me a better understanding of Knives Out. I would definitely recommend both. Better yet, make it a double feature night!
Onward (2020)
Onward is . . . okay. It's essentially Zootopia, except with an urban-fantasy setting and without the story on prejudice. I feel like the makers of the film couldn't decide what they wanted: to make a fully crafted world or to make a really emotional story. Because they couldn't decide, both feel a little . . . lack-luster. That being said, there are some great elements here.
There are some wonderful visual jokes with this melding of urban and fantasy. The best part of this entire film is the motorcycle gang of pixies. They are some rude jerks and reminded me of that scene from Labyrinth when Sarah grabs a fairy. I enjoyed the centaur cop as well. My favorite character was Corey the manticore, who works as a general manager of a "tavern" and is extremely shy about her more fearful attributes.
I think the story had some really excellent moments in it as well, but there was so much time spent with world creation that there wasn't enough time to build emotion. Brothers Ian and Barley have the chance to see their father again through a spark of magic. However, the spell is screwed up and only half of their father is there with them (a blatant metaphor).
What is truly special about this film is the message: that you don't need a father to have been parented well. But very little time is spent on this. Nor are we ever given view into Barley's childhood fear of having to say goodbye to a father hooked up on medical devices. This is something I have personal experience with that probably would have affected me deeply if it had been more integrated into the film.
But you win some, you lose some with Pixar. I loved Toy Story 4, so there was bound to be one that let me down, even if it was just a little.
Tangled (2010)
I enjoyed Tangled exponentially more than Frozen. Which is funny, because Frozen was billed as a feminist film about women who didn't need men (they actually did) and had a strong sisterly bond (that was never explored). I think it's because Tangled was never billed as something "feminist" that allowed me to enjoy it. Because while the male lead is a vehicle to leading this Rapunzel outside, every single step she takes is of her own volition.
Tangled is also explicitly about emotional abuse, which is something I have vast experience with. So perhaps that allowed me to identify a little more with Rapunzel than Elsa or Anna. "Mother Knows Best" is such an excellent villain song because it is essentially passive-aggressive emotional abuse. Mother Gothel tells her daughter, Rapunzel, that she can't possibly go outside because she's not bright enough, not talented enough, not strong enough, and starting to "get kind of chubby."
When Rapunzel does finally leave her home, she expresses emotions that felt authentic. One moment, she's rolling through the grass, finally being able to feel it under her feet. The next, she's bawling and calling herself a horrible daughter. Then, flying happily around a tree. Then, back to bawling. Guilt is a really powerful emotion. When I started cutting people out of my life who had been abusive to me, I felt immense guilt about it. But ultimately, what's more important, is rebuilding a relationship with yourself. I was so identified with the words of someone else that it took me a long time to get to know who I was again. So I'm glad to see those emotions, expressed in a children's film.
Rapunzel is itemized in Tangled. Mother Gothel sees her not as a daughter, but as a way to extend her life. The two criminals view her as something to sell. It's only Eugene who views her as a person, someone who is not considered as important in society. Eugene is an orphan who grows up to become a thief, basing his image on a swashbuckling fictional hero. His identity as a thief though is one of his own creation.
And I think this is interesting in Tangled, that there are so many illusions in the film. No one is really what they seem. Eugene isn't really a thief, the ruffians aren't really ruffians, Mother Gothel isn't really a mother, and Rapunzel isn't devoid of talent or brains or strength.
I was a little shocked that I enjoyed Tangled so much, but everything works in it. The anachronistic jokes are fun, the humor between Rapunzel and Eugene's growing relationship is amusing, and Maximus is perhaps one of the best animated animals in all of Disney history.
More later (?).