The Big Sleep

1946, United States
Director: Howark Hawks
Screenplay: Leigh Brackett, William Faulkner (!), Jules Furthman
Novel: Raymond Chandler

About fifteen minutes into this movie I had the unsettling, and somewhat familiar, feeling that I’m just not smart enough to follow complex plots. After all, I’m a guy that was hopelessly confused an hour into the first Mission Impossible (the only certainty was that if you put the green half of the gum with the red half, it would explode). Fortunately an internet consultation confirmed that the Big Sleep is considered to be one of the most baffling movies in history.

Thus reassured, I watched the movie not once but twice, the second time with a pen and paper to keep track of the numerous characters and their connections. Midway through the film I concluded that, ultimately, there are plot points that really do not hang together in this complex detective story. Humphrey Bogart’s character, Phillip Marlowe, is possessed with at least two superhuman powers – his irresistibility to every woman he encounters, and an absolutely impossible gift for linking ostensibly unrelated things. Some of the questions I wrote down as I watched the movie the second time:

“How does Marlowe suspect Brody killed Geiger?”
“How does he guess who Eddie Mars is when he first meets him?”
“How does he see through Vivian and Mars’ ruse at the club?”
“How does he figure Sean Regan is in any way connected to Geiger?”

Marlowe not only figures these things out, but figures them out with an absolute authority and certainty. Sherlock Holmes has nothing on Bogie! These questions leave out the most famous and hilarious plot hole in the film, which was, according to one account, pointed out by Bogart himself on set: no one knows who killed the chauffeur, Owen Taylor. Even the novelist didn’t know.

Fortunately, the Big Sleep’s convoluted plot is easily ignored. Where the movie shines is in its incredibly witty dialogue, the sort that could only compound the Bogart character and legend. Bogart is just sublimely sarcastic in this movie, and a joy to watch. The Big Sleep also captures the legendary actor during a critical moment in his life. He was going through an unhappy marriage and struggling with feelings for his co-star and future love of his life Lauren Bacall. The chemistry between Bogart and the 20-year old Bacall in The Big Sleep is fascinating, and provides the film with a great side story about one of the 20th century’s most larger-than-life individuals.

Style: 7
The Big Sleep is rather straightforward film noir. The style in this film is almost entirely supplied by Bogart himself – his delivery, his sarcasm, his perfect street-smart demeanour. I get the impression that Bogart’s persistent and distinct character was a joy to writers, who continued to gift him with some of the greatest dialogue ever penned.

Substance: 8
The plot is hopelessly complex and ultimately based around tenuous suppositions and convenient plot twists. It doesn’t matter much, though, because Phillip Marlowe is a very fun character to watch. Bogart and Bacall’s real-life romance captures one of the all-time great actors at a critical period in his life.

Overall: 8
The Big Sleep would rate a 9 in dialogue alone. It would also probably deserve a 9 for historical significance, since it is one of the marquee examples of film noir and Bogart’s career. But I have to deduct a point for a plot that would be nigh impossible to unravel in a single viewing, and wouldn’t leave you with much satisfaction even if you did.

More on Ebert’s Great Movies

I just added a link on the sidebar that contains all of Roger Ebert’s Great Movies as well as whether I’ve seen or reviewed them. It may be a little overzealous to say I’m aiming to review every last movie on his list, but it’s the vague direction in which I’m headed. It’s going to take a matter of years to even get through the list, considering there are 292 entries and it’s being constantly expanded.

Anyway, I added this page should you want to track my progress.

Recent Gaming

Well, I’m way, waaay behind on my Roger Ebert Great Movie reviews – in the hole by 5, in fact.  What better time to do a post on video games!!  These little gems are what kept me going during my biannual personal hell, i.e. sitting for an actuarial exam (yes, these things are, in fact, endless).

Bionic Commando Rearmed:  I’m a big fan of the original Bionic Commando for the NES (1988, baby), and it’s clear that the creators of this excellent remake are as well.  All the levels have been faithfully recreated, and there are lots of humorous references to the game’s infamous Engrish.  More importantly, they took a good, long look at what didn’t work in original and made organic improvements that are in the same spirit as the Capcom classic.  To whit:

- The weapons have been revamped.  The Rocket Launcher was significantly nerfed (good call), the useless “3-way” was replaced with the much niftier Vector Cannon, and Joe’s Machine Gun got a face lift.  All the weapons now have special upgrades and can be switched to at any time, thus eliminating one of the more annoying aspects of the original.  Oh, and that goes for the various communicators as well.

- They added several secrets to each level, as well as an encyclopedia of sorts for which you collect entries as you encounter stuff.  There are two new mini-levels replacing the secret passageways of the original, and they’re pretty tough.  Several “challenge rooms” were also added to further test your swinging skills.

- The boss battles have been massively redesigned, generally for the better.  I say generally because I found myself missing the classic boss battles a little.  They were definitely a part of BC’s charm.  But from a purely gameplay standpoint, this is definitely an improvement, and some of the battles take particularly clever advantage of the bionic arm mechanic.  Oh, and the Albatross is now its own level!

- They improved the graphics and remixed the soundtrack.  I liked the graphics upgrades, but missed the less techno-y tunes of the original.  That Area 2 music was just the best.

Overall it’s a really thoughtful remake.  My biggest single complaint is that they left the overhead stages in, which continue to be a huge hassle as you navigate the map.  This is sort of like making a Star Wars Special Edition and changing everything EXCEPT the blatant mistake of not coloring the lightsabers in certain shots.  You know what scenes I’m talking about.  “Ben!?!?!!  NOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Mega Man 9:  It’s pretty amazing that Capcom made this game.  Mega Man 9 is a fully-formed, brand new NES-style Mega Man game, complete with 8-bit graphics.  It follows the gameplay mechanics of the best entry in the series, Mega Man 2 – and that means no slide, although you do get Rush instead of the various adapters.

I’ve played all the original Mega Man games without regret, to the extent that you can play video games without regretting doing more productive things, and if you’ve liked all the previous Mega Mans you’ll like 9 as well.  Mega Man is kinda like the Rocky of the video game world, or Friday the 13th - they just keep on comin’.  With Mega Man, though, the core concept is really that good, and I think the endless sequels are pretty well justified.

Mega Man 9 is a bit of a rally for the franchise in some departments.  The Robot Masters were taking a serious turn for the lame towards the end of the NES run, and that has been somewhat rectified here, including the first female Robot Master (Splash Woman).  The music is actually quite good, as well…not quite MM2 standards, but definitely more enjoyable than anything in 5 and 6.  The level design is thoughtful, although murderously difficult at points (Tornado Man’s stage is just ridiculous).  A slight drawback to this game is that it’s shorter than the Mega Mans past 3 – there’s only the first 8 stages and 4 stages after that.  I’m not going to tell you where those final 4 stages take place, but I bet you can make a good guess.

Symphony of the Night:  My latest foray into classic gaming, I’m really only a half hour into the game at this point.  But it is totally awesome, justifying its frequent appearances on top game lists.  Basically this game is Super Metroid in Castlevania, and that’s enough to make me a very content person right now.

Belle de Jour

1967, France
Director: Luis Buñuel
Screenplay: Buñuel, Jean-Claude Carrière
Story: Joseph Kessel (novel)
Notes: The title translates as “daylilly,” and is a play on “belle de nuit,” or prostitute.

Belle de Jour is a bizarre and beautiful movie. It follows a young housewife named Séverine Serizy as she comes to grips with her sexual identity. She is compelled beyond the forces of reason into becoming a high-class prostitute during the day, before returning to an unknowing husband at night. Yet plot is almost secondary to the film’s skillful conjuring of mood, emotion, and presence. It is a study on sexuality, its mystery and power, that is simultaneously highly creative and thoroughly engaging.

Integral to Belle de Jour’s tone is its ability to weave fantasy with reality. There are several dream sequences interspersed through the film, and on at least one occasion I found it difficult to determine what was real and what was imagined. Buñuel uses non-diegetic sound to heighten this effect, lapping the strange associations of the main character against the shore of reality. The meow of a cat, the tinkle of a bell – they signify something to her, and therefore to the audience, but she is as helpless to decipher them as we are. They are ultimately mere components of her hyperactive imagination, and as unassailable as they are fascinating.

The blurring of fantasy and reality is furthered by a parade of characters, all with peculiar desires of their own. In the movie’s best-known scene, a large Asian businessman visits Séverine’s brothel, propositioning one of the other girls with a mysterious lacquered box. There is a strange sort of buzzing sound in the background as he opens it. The girl peers inside, and draws away with a look of repulsion. Séverine, too, has her doubts when the businessman proffers it to her; but a later cut suggests that she had no qualms with the businessman, and perhaps the box and its contents. What could possibly be in the box? There is no logical interpretation, but it’s a creative bit of symbolism that piques the imagination.

Séverine herself is one of the most interesting characters I’ve seen on film. She has very little personality, and acts almost entirely under the influence of her passions. At times she seems possessed by them. In a sense, we understand the logic of this; Buñuel didn’t need to flesh out her character, because she is a vehicle for the film’s encounters and ideas. But there is enough there to make us wonder about her, what makes her tick. In the movie’s final act, note not just her actions, but her emotional state – I feel like this tells more about her than anything else we see.

Style: 9
Here is a movie with style in spades, from excellent directing (watch how carefully the camera tracks from face to face, or follows a nervous Séverine’s hand) to the effective use of sound and symbolism. Catherine Deneuve is perfect in the lead role, striking a unique blend of distance and passion. Note that the film manages its tone with no explicit shots – by itself, a remarkable feat.

Substance: 9
Belle de Jour is a rare movie that demands not only repeat viewings, but interpretation and analysis. It is a study on human emotion and desire, on morality and psychology, on fantasy and reality. On top of that, it’s emotionally engrossing. Its existentialist tone reminds me of Kubrick’s 2001, or Hitchcock’s Vertigo. These are films that suck the reality out of you, and leave you wondering “what exactly did I just see?”  It never fails to amaze me, when a movie can have that sort of effect on you.

Overall: 9
It seems natural that in perusing a great movies list I eventually come upon a truly great movie. Belle de Jour is my favorite find from Ebert’s list to date (excepting Days of Heaven – review pending). I would heartily recommend it to all walks of film fans.

W.

2008, United States
Director: Oliver Stone
Writer: Stanley Weiser

A few analogies sprang to mind while watching W., but my favorite is one offered by history. I’m thinking of Marcus Aurelius, the last of Rome’s philosopher kings, by all accounts a learned and just ruler. Aurelius is remembered for breaking a century-old tradition and selecting his son as his successor, rather than the most capable person he knew. Emperor Commodus proved to be unstable and incapable; he alienated the Senate, failed to annex the all-but-conquered lands that would someday be responsible for Rome’s fall, and his reign marks the beginning of the Empire’s end. Looking back through history, should we forgive Aurelius for blindly placing his family before his country? Could he have possibly known his moment of fatherly weakness would be so debilitating?

Watching W, I am brought to the same question. In the film, George Bush Sr. is portrayed in a mostly positive light, except in one important aspect: he falls well short of the discipline needed to rein in his, er, free spirited son. Given countless reprieves and opportunities by his preoccupied father, “Dubya” is finally able to demonstrate his ineptitude to all upon election to the most important office in the world. This is the central thesis of the film, and while there is doubtless much supposition that went into forming the Bush Sr. character, in particular, the story is convincingly constructed – and quite compelling.

The casting is nothing short of superb, headlined with Josh Brolin’s Oscar-worthy performance. It is a little weird at first to see all these current public figures in a movie, as if you’re violating their privacy somehow; when John McCain flashed momentarily on the screen people around me laughed, as if it was funny because they “knew” him. But the “behind closed doors” element is a big part of what makes the film so fascinating. W’s life is the door that is thrown open the widest, and the film flows around his personal history. There are many funny parts, but mostly it takes on a frank and even sympathetic tone with regards to the main character. W. the story of a guy that mostly means well, but is damned from birth with a lethal combination of high expectations and insufficient grey matter. In the end, the “villains” of this film are Cheney, Karl Rove, and to some extent George Bush Sr., who precipitate Bush’s failings.

I love some of the stylistic decisions Stone makes in this film. For one, there is no hard and fast continuity, except for the vaguely emerging narrative of a failed presidency. The chronology is also tied together by recurring images, most notably Bush’s love of baseball. Food also plays an amusing and recurring role – Bush is often talking with his mouth full, and look for a priceless moment with Donald Rumsfield and a slice of pie.

Style: 8
A very stylishly executed biography with a cast that is spot on. Despite jumping back and forth through time the film hangs together splendidly, in part thanks to effective images and themes. A diverse set of locations, from Bush’s Texas ranch to various rooms around the White House, add to the already fine sense of realism.

Substance: 8
I think most people expect this film to be a scathing anti-Bush piece, but W. is surprisingly deep and reflective. Some pro-Bush people (aren’t they extinct yet?) might complain that it’s unfair, but I think W. does a good job of celebrating the man’s virtues to the extent possible. The narrative of his life turns out to be a pretty good one, and most of the individual scenes are compelling all on their own; in particular, the meeting in which he and his cabinet decide to invade Iraq is superb entertainment.

Overall: 8
W. is not quite the comedy I expected. Though it is funny, it is mostly a fair and serious look at the man we currently have heading up our government. Remarkably, parts of it are even touching (witness the scene where Bush Sr. loses his reelection bid). When a film runs the gamut of emotion like that, in a smart and compelling way, I almost want Dubya back in office so we can get sequels. That, of course, supposes Hollywood would still exist after the country’s been reduced to barbarism.

Beat The Devil

Just a couple housekeeping reviews before my review of “W” later this weekend!

1953, England
Director: John Huston
Screenplay: Huston, Truman Capote
Story: James Helvick (novel)

Beat The Devil is a John Huston-Humphrey Bogart collaboration that defies all genres. Its tone is somewhat humorous, as established by the first exchange of dialogue (in which a woman voices her distrust of passing men because they didn’t bother to check out her legs). Though there are a couple good laughs, they are buried by a meandering, extremely weak plot that takes us places and shows us events without accomplishing anything interesting. There’s sort of a nihilistic flavor here, with the end in particular making light of the characters’ dalliances.

Ultimately, it’s a film that fails to find itself. For one, too much screen time is given to the childish Gwendolen Chelm (Jennifer Jones), who is a microcosm of the film’s nonsensical bent. She asks the sort of pointed questions you might expect from a six-year-old, and tries to cheat on her husband without the slightest hint of weighing the consequences. Her irreverence is quickly tiring, and I started to wonder why Bogart’s typically cynical character would put up with her. Bogart, for his part, never seems to quite belong. For a guy who admits he’s obsessed with money, he does not go to great lengths to secure it, and his motivations are indecipherable. It’s consistent with Bogart’s actual approach to the film, which was complete apathy (he later said of the movie that “only phonies like it.”)

The problem, indeed, is that no one really seems to care about much of anything. There’s uranium in Africa, somewhere, but except perhaps for Robert Morley’s character, no one is particularly determined to claim it. There’s a hundred different digressions in the course of the story…a car falls off a cliff, a fight takes place in a bar, a ship runs aground. That might sound funny, but really it’s just plodding and random (though the car is good). The best saving grace to Beat The Devil is the rare gem or two of dialogue, including a famous piece on the nature of time.

Style: 4
Beat The Devil had poor production values, and indeed feels rather rushed; Bogart, for example, might have needed a few more takes in some scenes. Though the imagery and presentation is largely unremarkable I did enjoy the diverse phenotypes of the four antagonists.

Substance: 5
What do you do with a movie that has a few very clever lines and funny moments but buries them in a mess of unmotivated characters and pointless plot developments? If you’re me, you argue they all roughly cancel out and slap an average score on it.

Overall: 5
Beat The Devil has something of a polarizing effect on film fans, so I’m going to split the difference here. I love some of the lines, but not enough to justify such a listless plot (the scenes in the boat are particularly overlong). If you’re a diehard Bogart or Huston fan it might be worth a look…though seeing as it’s public domain, don’t pay a whole lot.

Iron Man Appeals on a Primal Level

I just watched my brand new (okay, okay, totally eBayed) 2-disc Ultimate Edition Iron Man blu-ray. I still think this movie kicks ass, although now I’m starting to form a theory as to why it appeals to me so much. Sure, it’s got lots of comedy and fantastic special effects, but there’s something to the Iron Man idea that sets him apart from other superheroes.

Take, for example, Superman. Superman certainly appeals on a primal level. Ever have dreams you can fly? I’m sure you have, and I’m sure you would agree they’re utterly euphoric. Who wouldn’t want to be Superman? Who can’t help but cheer watching him blast off into the sky, or lift helicopters or whatever with his bare hands? Of course, the Superman personae is more nuanced than that. Superman is perfect through and through. As Superman, you’d go around not only flying but also representing, you know, truth, justice, and the “way” of the World’s Greatest Country, the United States of America. You’d laugh as bullets bounced off your chest, and then politely escort the criminals off to jail for their fair trials (since that’s clearly what America is all about). There’s something primal about being Superman, but it’s sort of a package deal, of both powers and morals. That’s would it would mean to be Superman.

Batman, or Spiderman, perhaps? I group them together as the “rooftop” heroes. Who wouldn’t want to leap from rooftops, swinging through the night with grappling hooks or strands of silk? Of course, their personalities are like night and day. Batman is the world’s greatest detective, somewhat grim and removed from society, despite the excesses of his high society alter-ego. Spiderman is the wise-crackingest of superheroes, prone to hanging upside down and mouthing off to villains as much as landing a punch. Each is fun in their own way, but as with Superman, there’s a certain sort of perfection, of unattainability, to them. Batman is the perfect person, mind, body, and soul, while Spiderman relies on a happy accident for his superhuman powers.

Which brings us to Iron Man. While all the above superheroes appeal in a primal way, I feel like Iron Man appeals to those who love superhero movies in the most primal way of all. That’s because Iron Man is really nothing more than a dork in a suit. Okay, okay, I know Tony Stark can smelt iron or whatever, but unlike Batman, his physical strength is not a key asset. Tony Stark is at heart an engineer, who has this wild idea to make an indestructible suit capable of flight and can fire blasts of energy from palm thingies. His ultimate power derives from his intellect, which directly translates to his suit and his vigilante alter-ego.

This distinction makes the idea of Iron Man more accessible and – dare I say it – realistic. In Batman Begins, we sort of get an idea of why Bruce Wayne decides to become the Batman, but ultimately the film cannot explain what is a fiction of the purest form. How can you possibly justify a multibillionare, even one who has experienced deep tragedy, deciding to dress up like a bat and fight crime? The idea is ludicrous, even if it is part of the character’s primal appeal. But watching Robert Downey Jr. go through the origin of Iron Man convinced me of the character and his decisions. Tony Stark is a genius, but he is a much farther cry from perfection than Bruce Wayne. He gives the audience that much more to hang on to, an aspect I think is absolutely critical in making Iron Man such an effective superhero movie.

And, yeah, maybe as I watch him land with a thud in the middle of a war zone, repulsor rays at the ready and raising a visage designed to do business – maybe I’m thinking a little bit more than usual how kick-ass that would really be.