31 December 2008

Next time, take the express

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

(1974)
Oh, this is just silly, but at least it provided a few cheap thrills, which is more than I can say about the ostensibly brainy films I saw at the multiplex earlier in the day.

Zero points for guessing how the Martin Balsam character is going to give himself away, but points for guessing which passenger is the undercover cop and major points for foreseeing the Robert Shaw character's emergency exit plan.

Tony Scott's remake is due out in the new year, w/ Denzel in the Matthau role (he must get tired of that comparison) and Travolta, I gather, as the heist mastermind. Hard to imagine why a remake would be necessary except perhaps to adjust for the now-comical economics of a million-dollar ransom demand and being able to ask of the kidnapped riders, "What do they expect for their 35 cents?"

Bêtes noires

Year-end bring-the-bastard-down double feature

Frost/Nixon

Post
Way disappointed in this: far too melodramatic, and unnecessarily so, given the drama inherent in the material. I suspect there's more truth about Nixon in Dick.

What a year for Toby Jones, playing enabler to the two most hated presidents of my lifetime.

Valkyrie

Post
Less disappointed in this because my expectations are lower: just kinda bored. And watching von Stauffenberg's wife, children, and secretary stare worshipfully at Tom Cruise got old really fast.
Trailers
  • State of Play--Good cast led by Russell Crowe as a newspaperman, so I have to be a 4, but I saw the trailer twice and less than 24 hours later had to remind myself what it was about, which can't be a good sign.
  • My Bloody Valentine 3-D--Oh, golly, how long have we been waiting . . . ?
  • And how disappointed am I to have gotten to the end of the year without seeing a trailer for Hotel for Dogs? It opens in just 23 days!

28 December 2008

The measure of an unmade grave

The Verona project, part X

Who (how old), when, how long? Clive Francis (18) and Angela Scoular (19), 1965, 1¾hr.

What sort of R&J? A Romeo who is under the impression that he is playing Hamlet; a Juliet who is better than the production.

Seriocomic scale for first scene? In this version the scene begins after the comic lines; some blood is shed, but no fatalities.

"Wherefore": do the playmakers know what it means? Yes, though the sequence is delivered with odd cheer, almost giddiness, as if Juliet doesn't really think the Montague issue is that big a deal.

Carrion flies? No.

Body count? The full six.

What (else) is missing? This isn't an interesting production, but it is the one so far for which it would perhaps be most interesting to track line by line what is cut, what included. Since the runtime is but an hour and three-quarters, lots and lots is cut, of course, much with an axe rather than a scalpel, but then unusual things survive, such as the Nurse's repetition of her husband's declaration that Juliet, once she has grown herself some ballast, will fall on her back rather than on her face. Also, the scene in which Capulet reproaches his marriage-resistant daughter plays out at length--but the one before that, where she bandies with her mother over the "revenge" against Tybalt's murderer, is truncated--and the Nurse is excised from the scene altogether. Gone also is the scene in which Romeo tells Nurse of the wedding plans, but only after he and his friends taunt her--and then Nurse doesn't tease Juliet before giving her the news. And on and on: the Mercutio-Tybalt duel scene begins with Benvolio's "By my head, here come the Capulets," and that seems to reflect the general practice: cut the comic exchanges that don't directly advance the plot. Which strategy, of course, drains much of the life from the play, and encourages the melancholy-Veronan stance of R.

What (else) is changed? Not much changed, apart from truncations: the scene in which Romeo buys his fatal poison, e.g., ends with his first line to the apothecary. Oh, here's something interesting: III.iv, wherein Capulet promises Juliet to Paris, takes place at Tybalt's bier rather than chez Capulet.

What (else) is odd? Much, but the oddest, to me, is that the Romeo-Juliet morning-after-the-wedding-night scene takes place in vertical posture: they're standing on the balcony, never in bed. In fact, everything that suggests that sex will take place or has taken place ("Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds . . . And bring in cloudy night immediately") is missing (as is the Juliet-Nurse interview that follows those lines). Also a little odd: Romeo, after dying with a kiss, falls on Juliet's right boob--but when she wakes, she doesn't notice the weight.

End-of-the-play exposition? No, but the excision is awkward, since the Prince reads Romeo's letter and confirms that it "doth make good the friar's words," which the Friar hasn't actually spoken.

It's a pretty poor production, take it all around--I might in fact judge it even worse had I seen a version this weekend that didn't suck altogether.

Vows

Doubt

Crit

Interesting that the did-he-or-didn't-he question is almost completely unimportant to us; what matters is the mechanics of doubt and faith and certainty. Of course, for those of us whose parents entrusted us to the care of warped, repressed dictators, there's interest too in seeing how they got that way, and I think I understand a little of the mechanics of that as well. Streep and Hoffman chew their scenery admirably, Viola Davis steals her one scene, and Amy Adams seems a bit at sea (more than her character is supposed to, i.e.). And Shanley, what's the damn deal with those shots where the camera is tilted 30 degrees?

Trailers

27 December 2008

West-of-Florida story

The Verona project, part IX, Beneath the 12-Mile Reef

Who (how old), when, how long? Robert Wagner (22) and Terry Moore (23), 1953, 1¾hr.

What sort of R&J? Spongediving, and thoroughly unappealing (and in Wagner's case, about as convincingly Greek as Kirk Douglas a couple of years later in Ulysses).

Seriocomic scale for first scene? No equivalent scene; it's 17 minutes before the conflict is established between Greeks and "Conchs" (i.e., gen-u-wine Americans), another few minutes before the first confrontation, which is not at all comic but not at all threatening.

"Wherefore": do the filmmakers know what it means? Not applicable.

Carrion flies? N.A.

Body count? One: Mike Petraikis (Gilbert Roland), father of Tony (the Romeo character, Wagner), dies from a serious case of the bends only indirectly attributable to the conflict.

What (else) is missing? Pretty much everything.

What (else) is changed? Pretty much everything, for the drabber.

What (else) is odd? Have you ever seen an octopus in an aquarium? No, you haven't, right? Because they're always hiding, right? Because they're scared shitless of us, right? So what inspires one to attack Tony here?

End-of-the-play exposition? Rather, end-of-the-play reconciliation of everyone w/ everyone else. Oh, golly, it's heartwarming.

There's precisely one thing interesting about this film: in 1953, four years before West Side Story opens on Broadway, we have at least the bare bones of the R&J story played as a turf war between "Americans" and immigrants--and the Romeo character is named Tony (actually Adonis here, Anton in the Laurents/Bernstein/Sondheim version). Oh, and there's a scene here where everyone makes nice when the cops come that is revived in the later incarnation.

Mortification

Ha-Sodot (The secrets)

Crit
Starting with a funeral and ending with a wedding, this only occasionally goes where you expect it to, and then not by the expected path. The one consistent theme is the role of woman in Orthodox Israeli society, but along the way we also visit love and tears, selfishness and denial, guilt and atonement, kabbala and klezmer. Some scenes seem familiar--the secret mystical ritual from the teen spook film, the fumbling embrace from the lesbian awakening film, the fiancé pontification from every New Comic plot ever--but in context they're all fresh, since all are in service of the central question: what can life in this world hold for a young woman who knows she's smarter than every man around, with the progressively less persuasive exception of her father (and who has in any case seen the consequences for her mother even of her well-meaning father's smothering love)?

Thankfully, the film makes no attempt at definitive answers to any of its questions (well, aside from the fiancé's being irredeemably assholish and well dismissed).

26 December 2008

Some want of wit

The Verona project, part VIII

Who (how old), when, how long? Alex Hyde-White (22) and Blanche Baker (25), 1982, 2¾hr.

What sort of R&J? Bland, bland, bland; Baker performs like an unpromising high school student. She delivers exactly one line--Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?--with conviction. The rest might as well be silence--much would be better thus.

Seriocomic scale for first scene? 5, I suppose: it's not silly at all, but neither is it deadly.

"Wherefore": do the playmakers know what it means? Yes, I'll grant that Baker's wooden reading of the sequence makes it clear that she knows that the "wherefore" leads to the "Deny thy father."

Carrion flies? Yep; but Hyde-White renders the bizarre bit uninteresting.

Body count? This is interesting, for in a nearly complete production, somehow Lady Montague is spared. The other 5 all die, though.

What (else) is missing? Until late in the fourth act, I was under the impression that the production was virtually if not literally complete. But from that point on, there's a lot of truncation: almost all of the musicians' scene sequence that ends the act, e.g., and much of the dialogue (and the presence of Paris's page) from V.iii, the play's final scene.

What (else) is changed? The end of V.i, wherein Romeo visits the apothecary, is presented as a visual flash-forward while he recites the lines describing his earlier impressions of the man (who thus gets to speak no lines, but just hands off the vial).

What (else) is odd? I guess the oddest (and most ominous) thing is that the biggest name in the cast belongs to the woman who plays the Nurse, and that name is . . . Esther Rolle. Her performance is scarcely dy-no-mite. Oh, another odd thing: Romeo's poison is so fast-acting that although he can say "Thus with a kiss I die," he can't actually get his mouth near J's face before expiring.

End-of-the-play exposition? In perhaps the smartest decision in the production, the Prince cuts off Friar "I will be brief" Laurence's long-winded account and leaps straight into his final scolding of Montague and Capulet.

This is about as close to a complete waste of time as Shakespeare gets.