Enchanted

So, I just saw Enchanted, and I have to admit it was...enchanting. Which is of course silly, predictable thing to say, entirely lacking in originality yet sweet, and as such a perfect description. The internal logic here is -at best- flawed, the performances are over the top, the bits with the henchman don't quite work and yet....I can't bring myself to hate on this movie. I might even have to give it 4 out of 5 stars when I review it, because this film made me remember what it was like to see Cinderella for the first time.

Like almost all animation films nowadays - and don't let the trailer fool you, this is animation, in almost every frame, despite the fact that there are live actors involved - this film tries to balance two audiences. There are even two audience substitutes here: McDreamy is the cynic rolling his eyes for us, but (like us) ultimately swept along, and his daughter is there for all the pre-teen girls who are sure to flock to this in numbers. And they won't be the worse for it: some jokes will go over their heads but none of them are crude, and the film even has a nice emancipatory vibe, without pushing its message on you.

You have to wonder though: do these kids even get all the references? I mean, have they ever seen a non-postmodern fairytale? Irony's all good and well, but I remember reading through a book of Grimm fairytales half my weight when I was a kid, and there's a power to those stories that Shrek and his followers can't quite equal. And while James Marsden sending himself up is a hoot (at one point, his helper asks "Sire. Do you like yourself?" and Marsden dryly answers "what's not to like?"), Susan Sarandon isn't likely to inspire quite as many nightmares as Snow White's evil Queen did.

Remember, remember...it's November

Against my better judgment, I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo again, for the fourth time, after winning in 2003, 2004, and 2005 (and taking a break in 2006). I am, very unwisely, trying the hard-boiled genre. With, obviously, a female PI. I have one corpse already, just no idea as to the killer or the motive, but I'm hoping that will come.

I'm not blogging my attempts this time, but if you want to read along, just send me an e-mail and I'll make sure you get regular updated. Keep in mind, this would be quickly written, unrevised prose from someone without notable talent.

Wish me luck!

H. 1065 words and counting.

Control - first thoughts

Is this film gorgeous or what? What else would you expect, of course, from Anton Corbijn, who surprisingly didn't act as his own DP here. I cannot find a right picture to illustrate it, but his compositions are amazingly simple, so stark, yet they work beautifully.

I almost can't believe Sam Riley is a first time actor: he's great here. I'm not even talking about the mimicry - I'm not very familiar with Joy Division and until I searched youtube fifteen minutes ago, I'd never seen Ian Curtis dance - but simply about the intensity of his portrayal, the openness, too. The tragedy of Curtis' life is that it really wasn't all that tragic, but he couldn't take it, and Riley shows us the little boy he really still was. When he was my age, he was already married, with a kid, a band to lead and a lover. All of this happened more or less impulsively. Then, when he was one year older, he had one fatal impulse.

I only have one gripe, really, and it's not even the predictable rise-and-fall structure inherent in biopics. There is one scene where Ian Curtis is -more or less- hypnotized, and Corbijn unfortunately resorts to the old method of repeating phrases he heard before in voice-over. It's such an unfortunate trick, and the scene would have been much more effective had we been able to fill in his thoughts ourselves: we've heard what's been said to him, it's even been filtered for us since this is a film, and we really don't need to be told explicitly what's in his head.

Ok. I'm off to download Joy Division songs now.

Notorious

It's interesting to watch Notorious, as I did, the day after Casablanca. The first things you notice are rather superficial: how much Claude Rains aged in the three years in between, for instance - though looking at his birth date, the surprising thing really is how he managed to look so young before. But there are more telling differences.

Most of all, Ingrid Bergman is, I'll admit it, a more interesting character here. In Casablanca, she's an ideal being: a beautiful, smart, noble woman who has to make a very difficult choice between two worthwhile men. Her doubts are played out wonderfully, and you can imagine you inspire the passion of both men, but outside of the context of Casablanca, she wouldn't be very narratively interesting. Her Alicia in Notorious, on the other hand, is amazing: self-destructive, smart, full of abandon and desperate to find someone she can love and who can love her back. Witness the scene in which she tries to make a chicken dinner: it's a total failure, but she can laugh about it, and who wouldn't rather have that than a perfectly prepared dinner with a bore? It's amazingly bold for that time, too: it's obvious that not only does she drink too much, but she sleeps around, too.

All of which makes it so unpalatable that by the end of it, to be redeemed by reducing her to a powerless damsel in distress who has to be rescued by a man who's consistently humiliated her throughout. Oh, I'll admit, I got stomach pangs watching that last scene, because Grant and Bergman do have amazing chemistry, but I cannot see a single reason for her loving him so much aside from her own self-loathing. He's pristine, he's a patriotic good guy who would never admit to a mistake, and well, no match for Bogie's Rick, in my opinion.

Is it bad that I found myself sympathizing with Rains? Really, there is so little attention paid to the nefarious nazi plot (a phrase I used before, but I like alliteration, so hey) that it's hard to not see Rains simply as a poor sap fooled by a beautiful woman who betrays him. True to Hitchcock fashion, he's a mamma's boy, but he defies his - very scary - mother to marry Alicia, and what does he get for it?

Oh well. I did love the movie, despite my ranting. It's Hitchcock doing what he does best. And if you're interested in more Hitchcock, Joe Valdez has devoted the whole month of October to his films, so go check it out.

Top 50 - #1 - Casablanca

Well, I really can't put it off any more, not after watching this wonderful, wonderful film for what was probably the 6th or 7th time yesterday. See, there was a house dinner. And one of my house mates has a Casablanca poster in his room, but had never seen the film. I'd been pestering him to watch it for a long time, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. "But it's black and white!" he protested. "I'll fall asleep!".

I bristled. So did another one of my house mates -one who had been mildly OK with watching the film - but not for the same reason. "Wait, it's BLACK AND WHITE? No, no way, it'll be boring." Luckily, I can be pretty persuasive, and I managed to coerce them into watching 30 minutes of the film. If they found it too boring then, the deal was, we'd switch it off and pick a color film to watch. Needless to say, we watched until the moment Louis and Rick walk off in the fog.

I know, lists of this kind, those made by the more discerning film buffs at least, are usually dominated by another black and white film, one that doesn't even appear on the list: I am talking, of course, of Citizen Kane. Thing is, while I greatly admire Citizen Kane, while I can see why it is revered and still innovative after all these years, I can't muster up any love for it. It's just too cold and analytic an exercise, with no room for real emotion, for any lovely flaws.

Casablanca does have flaws. When Ilsa says "was that cannon fire, or is that my heart pounding?" it's corny, too corny in this instance, and "The Germans wore gray. You were blue" is also stretching it a little, but the film's willing corniness works, it wins you over. And I mean, who can remember any quotes from Citizen Kane besides "Rosebud"? Contrast this with this film, which gave us "Here's looking at you, kid", "Play it once, Sam, for old times sake" "If she can stand it I can! Play it!", "I stick my neck out for nobody", "We'll always have Paris", "I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!" "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship", "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine" and so many more.

Ah, but you say, Citizen Kane is all about cinematography! To which I reply, Citizen Kane is all about showing off. Yes, the camera in Casablanca moved in much more conventional ways, but it is above all effective. Take the shot which introduces us to Rick: first the check, the hand signing it "OK Rick", then taking the cigarette and in one smooth movement showing us the face of our hero.

Ah, Rick. Yes, Ingrid Bergman is glowing here, more beautiful than ever, but to me this movie belongs to Bogart. His Rick is so wounded, but he doesn't want to be pitied, doesn't want to be weak, and it's through his bitterness that it shows. The way he delivers lines like "Or aren't you the one that tells", with a sneer: it's mean, it's lashing out, but it's also profoundly touching, more so than any doe-eyes could ever have been. He doesn't "emote" in the way male actors sometimes try now, but his emotions are obvious.

Well, I don't pretend to be able to add something to all that has already been said about this film, let alone something insightful. I just love this film. And I don't think I can share that any better than by leaving you with some more wonderful exchanges:

Captain Renault: Carl, see that Major Strasser gets a good table, one close to the ladies.
Carl: I have already given him the best, knowing he is German and would take it anyway.

___________

Captain Renault: Rick, there are many exit visas sold in this café, but we know that you've never sold one. That is the reason we permit you to remain open.
Rick: Oh? I thought it was because I let you win at roulette.
Captain Renault: That is another reason.

_____________


Ilsa: Don't, Rick! I can understand how you feel.
Rick: [scoffs] You understand how I feel. How long was it we had, honey?
Ilsa: [on the verge of tears] I didn't count the days.
Rick: Well, I did. Every one of 'em. Mostly I remember the last one. The wild finish. A guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out.

_____________


Major Strasser: You give him credit for too much cleverness. My impression was that he's just another blundering American.
Captain Renault: We musn't underestimate American blundering. I was with them when they blundered into Berlin in 1918.

_____________

Rick: And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart.
Captain Renault: That is my least vulnerable spot.

_____________

Major Strasser: Are you one of those people who cannot imagine the Germans in their beloved Paris?
Rick: It's not particularly my beloved Paris.
Heinz: Can you imagine us in London?
Rick: When you get there, ask me!
Captain Renault: Hmmh! Diplomatist!
Major Strasser: How about New York?
Rick: Well there are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn't advise you to try to invade.

_____________

Captain Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?
Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Captain Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.
Rick: I was misinformed.

_____________

Major Strasser: What is your nationality?
Rick: I'm a drunkard.
Captain Renault: That makes Rick a citizen of the world.

_____________

D.O.A

Oh, but did I love this film. If I ever do a top 10 noirs, this is sure to be on it. The story's based on a gimmick, really: a man investigating his own murder, but it works, from the wonderful opening following a man staggering towards the police station and into the homicide division to the convoluted resolution. I also loved the sub-story about how only impending death can cure this man of his fear of commitment: in a way, his misfortune could be seen as a punishment for his lecherous behavior at the beginning, complete with lovely sound effects. The girl's a bit of a nag in person but wonderfully funny and playful on the phone, and despite the goofiness of the whole "luminous toxin" business (and its convenient timing) the ending manages to move.
_______________________________________

Dr. MacDonald: Of course, I'll have to notify the police. This is a case for Homicide.
Frank Bigelow: Homicide!
Dr. MacDonald: I don't think you fully understand, Bigelow. You've been murdered.

Impact - 1949

I once argued that if it has a happy ending, it ain't a film noir, but this film has made me reconsider. It's noir alright, with the pretty, glamorous wife plotting to kill her husband with her lover, and a truly great scene leading up to said murder attempt. In the Idaho part of the movie, the lighting is probably too cheerful, the people too decent and the eventual outcome too sunny, but Ella Raines is so cute you forgive that right away. Brian Donlevy is also great, convincing both as the energetic loving husband at the beginning and as the angry, desperate man he becomes. This isn't great noir, but it is mighty enjoyable, and it fully earns its happy conclusion.

Michael Clayton - quick thoughts

Ok, instead of telling screenwriters and directors about "show and tell", how about following that doctrine and just showing them Michael Clayton? Class-action suit films are generally not my thing, but there isn't a crying mom or dying kid in sight here, just professional people trying to do their jobs, and a screenwriter-turned-director showing everyone how it's done.

SPOILER WARNING

There's this wonderful moment where Michael Clayton is looking through his colleagues apartment. He opens the fridge, sees a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The shot is clear, but not overemphasized. We don't get a shot of a "Eureka" look on Clooney's face. But we understand that seeing this means the guy didn't kill himself, and we know that Clayton is smart enough to get that, too.

If there's one criticism to be made it's that for a thriller, it isn't particularly thrilling. It is never boring, however, and there is a kind of horror to seeing Tom Wilkinson's character killed, not because there's so much violence or blood or gore involved, but because of the cold professionalism of the killers: it seems that to them, there isn't much difference between installing microphones in someone's apartment, placing a bomb in a car or killing someone, checking - twice, for good measure- to make sure his pulse is gone.

The film ends with Clooney in a cab, while the credits show. He's not a great actor, probably. But he knows how to portray a character without acting too much, or making his feelings too explicit. And Tony Gilroy, the director, knows how to leave out enough, but never too much: he doesn't condescend to his audience, but he's never too clever, either. I can't wait to see what he does next.

Dead Man - Close-up Blog-a-thon

I wasn't planning on participating in this blog-a-thon. Nothing immediately came to mind, and in general, I pay more attention to wide shots than close-ups: I love composition above all. However, I was watching Dead Man last night and this series of close-ups was too good NOT to blog about.






And then, the aftermath: notice especially where she is shot.

Don't forget to check out the other great entries!

Quick Thoughts - Trapped (1949)

Ah, but how you can see the production code at work here. The sympathy of the film is clearly with its charming protagonist, played by Llloyd Bridges, an his smart, sexy girlfriend Meg/Laurie, but of course in the end criminals are never allowed to win. There are two great fights here, clumsy and nasty and just two bodies rolling on the floor trying to hurt each others - none of the effectiveness here of Bourne or Viggo, they don't really know how to fight, just that they want to get out looking better than the other guy.

I'm not sure I liked the documentary voice-over, quite similar in fact to the one in He Walked By Night, and the end chase sequence is not all that captivating since it doesn't involve the main character, but all in all, this is a nice little noir.


Image source

Top 50 - #2 - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I have a conflicted relationship with romance, and romantic movies in particular. Thing is, I'm kind of a cynic about "Love" with a capital, yet at heart I really am hopelessly romantic. I just don't put any stock in the formulaic, by the book kind of romance movies usually serve up. I don't buy two beautiful people being meant for one another just 'cause, I don't buy big romantic gestures, and that's not even mentioning the sneaky sexism often present, with many movies operating under the assumption that the main goal in a woman's life is to find "the one".

My sister suggested, yesterday, that I draw out my studies because it's in college that you have the highest probability of meeting this mysterious "one", and I don't even think she was kidding. I laughed at her, of course, and it's true: I don't make any life decisions based on how they will affect my probability of finding a mate. I don't believe there is one person out there for me who's perfect. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't long to make a connection with someone, somehow, if only for a little while.

All this is a much too long and personal detour to bring me to a simple point: I believe that aside from being a perfectly crafted and written masterpiece, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is one of the most honestly romantic movies ever made. Not romantic like my #1. Not romantic in the sense that it makes you believe, for just a moment, in the magic Hollywood is so good at selling. But romantic in the sense that it doesn't let realism get in the way of hope.

Carrey's Joel and Winslet's Clementine aren't "meant to be", not even particularly well-matched in certain respects. They know, at the end, that they have many fights and difficulties ahead, that their relationship will be flawed. And it's knowing that, that they say "okay" to going through all of it again.

Charlie Kaufman is a brilliant screenwriter, I don't think there's anyone who'd deny it. I'd love to spend 15 minutes in his head, if not more. And I don't think he's heartless, either, his insecurities are much too close to the surface for that. His brain does however get in the way of his heart a lot of the time, leaving his films interesting, but a little cold, mental exercises that lead you to analyze them right away instead of getting lost in them. In this film, however, there's a perfect balance of the genius crazy idea and the feelings involved, and after the Science of Sleep I am inclined to give Gondry much of the credit for that. His imagery fills his film with wonder, but because he does most of his effects in camera the film never loses its footing in the real world. He managed to make this the best Kaufman movie to date, and that's no mean feat.



Next up: well, no hints this time, since any hint would give it away. Any guesses?

Eastern Promises (Cronenberg, 2007)

It's impossible to say anything remotely meaningful or interesting about this movie without mentioning the (in)famous "bathhouse scene", so I won't even try. It is amazing. It's intense, it hurts, it's repulsive, yet you can't look away. It shows both how incredibly easy to harm a human body is, how tenuous human life, and at the same time in Viggo's sinewy body it shows how lean, mean, and resilient it can be at the same time. Malleable, too: all the tattoos make his body seem something manufactured, perfected, a symbol more than anything living, breathing, feeling pain.

Also, yes, he's nekkid.

Unfortunately, despite a few wonderful Cronenberg touches as described above, I'm not sure this film ultimately adds up to more than just a solid genre film. It's a bit unfair, of course: coming from an unknown I might have hailed this as a very promising debut, but coming from Cronenberg, especially just after A History of Violence, how could my expectations not be unfairly high? That movie was much simpler on the surface, but it could be read in so many ways that it got better the more you thought about it. This one? Well, there's a lot to it, and definitely a lot to say, but I'm not sure it'll yield much more on second viewing.

Oh, but there are so many nice touches here. A lot of directors don't quite know what to do with Vincent Cassel: he's ugly, really, with his extreme features, but he's magnetic on screen, and there's a strange vulnerability lurking under the surface. This latter quality especially comes through in the character of Kirill, who's psychotic, sadistic, certainly, but ultimately just a boy who knows he'll never be able to satisfy his dad's expectations.

And Viggo? Of course he's great. I often feel like resisting his self-seriousness, but his obsessive researching pays off. In just a simple sentence, "I'm the driver", he can reveal so much. The Shamus, who luckily keeps archives now, wrote memorably about him, and he makes a good point: you can see him think, but you're never told exactly what he's thinking. He's opaque, but not a cypher: he's someone who's learned not to show too much.

The screenwriter, Steve Knight, also wrote Dirty Pretty Things, a film I love, but the script is not as good as the main character, due to a third act twist in particular, that should have either been left out or explored in a little more detail. He gets the subculture right, and the desire to belong there, but he is at heart too enamored with genre plot devices. In the case of Dirty Pretty Things I think it works, breaking through all the building tension with a neat thriller resolution, but here it seems out of place. There's a kiss, too, that could easily have been left out altogether, and in my opinion should have been. Luckily, Cronenberg ends with an amazing shot, where Viggo Mortensen shows that just sitting at a table staring into the distance is acting, too.

The Searchers

What a weird Western this is...Tonally, most of all: while the topic is dead-serious and the "hero" not really much of a hero at all, there are many moments of odd, jarring comic relief. Wayne plays an odd character here, one who knows much about the Comanch, speaks their language, but hates them, even wants to kill his niece for just having been close to them. He's a bit of a madman, really, especially when he starts shooting.

Nowadays, this would of course mean a psychologically motivated flashback to the incident in his past that caused this, but here it's all left to our imagination, which is unsatisfying but all the more intriguing. Unfortunately, Wayne doesn't show us many shadings, never allows us to think he's thinking something more, and the conflict in his personality can only be seen in his actions. It's a good thing Martin is there to act as an audience substitute (and to walk around shirtless a lot).

It took me a while to get into the movie, but once it grabbed me I liked it quite a bit. I'm still more in favor of the more self-conscious, reflexive kind of westerns, spaghetti westerns in particular, but this film has made me eager to watch more older ones, and find out what those were reflecting upon. Any recommendations?

Oh, and you should all be reading this. Including comments. And follow-ups.

Top 50 - # 3 - The Man Who Wasn't There

Finally then! Craig was right again.


One of the best cinematic experiences I've ever had was watching The Man Who Wasn't There on the big screen, 4 years after it came out, and after two or three viewings on DVD. Roger Deakins' own print was being shown, and the man himself was in attendance. I've never seen black and white more glorious, more crisp but at the same time also oddly warm, and this screening is when my love for this film turned to adoration.

Deakins also did a Q&A afterwards. I didn't really understand half of the Q's and three quarters or the A's due to all the technical lingo, but I sat there fascinated anyway because he spoke with such enthusiasm about his craft. He was impressively modest. It wasn't any sort of false humility: he knows he's good at what he does. He clearly sees what he does as a craft though, something you need some talent for but mostly a lot of experience, and there was not an ounce of pretentiousness to detect. I really think he's on the best cinematographers working today, and it's ridiculous that he has yet to win an Oscar (he was nominated 5 times, but never got to take home that statuette).

There's much more, of course, than just the cinematography. One of its greatest assets is Billy Bob Thornton as Ed Crane, the barber who rarely speaks except in his voice-over. He's the ultimate noir protagonist: essentially good, well, not evil, but cursed by his one flaw, which ironically enough is ambition.

Ambition? You wouldn't say it from the way he flatly says "Me? I don't talk much. I just cut the hair", but there is a spark there. He doesn't want much, but he does want a little bit more. Just a bit of independence, a bit more than just cutting the hair. An escape: something undetermined, unplanned.There are too many great moments to mention. Ed shaving his wife's legs, carefully, then his legs getting shaved later on. The murder scene. The Riedenschneider speech, and the shadows of the bars. The UFO's. But the two that resonate most with me have to do with Birdie, played by Scarlett Johanssen before she got all glamorous. The first is when Ed's brought her to a fancy piano teacher. He asks him "How did she do?" and the piano teacher answers:

"She seemed like a very nice girl. She plays, monsieur, like a very nice girl. Stinks. Nice girl. However: stinks."

It's a crushing moment, and Thornton underplays it beautifully. Later, in the car, Birdie calls him an enthusiast, and it's an assessment both ridiculous and strangely accurate. He is an enthusiast, even if he never betrays any emotion more acute than slight surprise, he is someone who likes things in a quiet, but unwavering way.

Or maybe I'm just reading things into him, because above all else, Thornton's Ed is a blank slate, someone everyone projects their own idea upon, like you can see images in clouds, or in the billowing smoke that comes from Ed's permanent cigarette. To his wife he's the reliable dud she married. To her brother he's a pillar of strength and a listening ear. To her lover he's harmless, an innocent. To Birdie he's a strange sort of sugar daddy, to the wonderfully named Creighton Tolliver he's a mark. Most memorably, to Riedenschneider, he's nothing less than "the modern man".

"What kind of man are you?" Big Dave asks, repeatedly. What kind of man is he? The kind you can make an endlessly fascinating film about.




Next up... a movie which ends memorably, with both main characters saying..."Okay"

I know I generally don't discuss private stuff, but I just had to share. See, I just moved in, well, am in the process, anyway: ikea was raided, many things assembled (then taken apart and assembled again because one little thing was wrong, obviously), and while most of my boxes are still packed, I know my priorities, as you can see below:

This will also (hopefully) mean posting frequency should be back up soon. And: I found the copy of Hable Con Ella that I thought I'd lost, so I now have two, and I'm thinking...contest?

Hotel Chevalier

I'm never quite sure what to think about Wes Anderson. Oh, he's brilliant, especially visually, there's no debating that; unfortunately, he knows it a little too well. Still, when iTunes was being infuriatingly local last night and I was unable to download Hotel Chevalier due to being outside the US, it ruined my evening.

I managed to get a version. Low quality, and I believe the beginning has been chopped off (please tell me, my version starts with Jason Schwartzman opening the door of his room), but I was very happy with it nonetheless.

It's a strange little movie. It's unmistakably Anderson, from the way it's shot to the small details in the set decoration, and even in the way the two characters talk. It never quite takes off, but I was left wanting more, and that can't be a bad sign, can it? Unusually enough for Anderson, it doesn't feel like the characters' whole world is contained on screen, like all they ever were and will be is here, it feels like they are fully realized characters with interesting stories beyond the screen. They breathe. And that's a welcome change.

I'm looking forward to The Darjeeling Limited. The three brothers setup makes me hope it will be more Royal Tenenbaums than Life Aquatic. And to keep me entertained in the meantime, I just ordered Bottle Rocket, which I found clumsily charming the first time around.

Top 50 - #4 - Donnie Darko

This is a movie I really can't be objective about. Oh, of course, we can never judge a movie truly objectively - it's about taste, after all. All kinds of things factor in: what mood you were in when you watched the film, which films you'd seen before, your own life, even. Still, I'm usually able to take a step back and see a movie for what it is, even often understand why people would have a different opinion of it.

Not Donnie Darko though. You have to understand: this was my absolute favorite movie from ages 17 to 19. I must've forced more than a dozen people to watch it with me, and I don't think there's any movie I've seen more often. It's almost as if this movie's in my veins, even now that I'm no longer a true believer or fanatic. And I have absolutely no idea what I would think if I was able to watch it today for the first time.

I can't quite put my finger on what made this movie so perfect for me at that time. Part of it is definitely that Jake Gyllenhaal plays the ultimate misunderstood teen, both aloof, feeling infinitely more intelligent and interesting than his peers and at the same time much more vulnerable and sensitive than he wants to be, or will admit to being. Another big part is that - in the original version at least - this is a film that dares to trust its audience, to not explain too much, and at the time this made me feel majorly intelligent myself, of course.

I still think the movie stands up: there's a lot of first-timer show-offy camera moves, but they work, the tracking shot through the school especially. The dialogue is great. The plot is still fascinating after twenty times. And since I've managed to avoid listening to the director's commentary, the movie is for me still very much open to interpretation, and wonderfully ambiguous.

If I sound a little defensive, it's because I no longer think my adoration of this movie is justified. I do still think it's a movie that will stand the test of time, and will be loved by many troubled teens to come, and it's certainly not just for nostalgia's sake that it ranks this high.

Gretchen: My mom had to get a restraining order against my stepdad. He has emotional problems.
Donnie: Oh, I have those too! What kind of emotional problems does your dad have?

and let's not forget:

Gretchen: You're weird.
Donnie: Sorry.
Gretchen: No, that was a compliment.


Next up: a black and white movie from this decade about "the modern man", with bonus aliens and blackmail.

Quick thoughts - Shrek the Third

The Shrek sequels are surprisingly inoffensive. Yes, they lack the freshness of the original, but whereas with the bloated, convoluted Pirates sequels this bothered me to no end, the Shrek movies keep it simple and short, without any more ambition than entertaining, and in that ambition they succeed, despite a falling lpm ratio. The Shrek-based humor is quite repetitive at this point in particular, but there are lovely little visual jokes - the trees using their branches as a parachute, for instance. Also, the celebrity voices are well-cast, I especially liked that after already using John Cleese in the second movie, they now also added fellow Monty Python alum Eric Idle as a somewhat loony Merlin. The subplot about villains taking back their stories could have been more interesting and fleshed out, but it feels petty to complain about a movie that knows to stay simple, short, and light.

Of course I prefer originality, daring, and so on. But for an evening like yesterday, when I was spending the evening with a friend I hadn't spent time with in a while, there could not have been a more appropriate movie.

Top 50 - #5 - Jules et Jim

Whenever I hear someone extolling the greatness of Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amelie Poulian, aka. Amelie, I feel like just sitting them down in front of my TV and pushing Jules et Jim into the DVD-player. Jeunet doesn't deny his influence, of course - Amelie is seen watching a scene from Jules et Jim at one point, and he does use some of the elements, including a voice-over eerily similar in tone, to great effect. He's even able to add some things, most notably in his use of color. Ultimately though, there is one thing that makes Jules et Jim many times more fascinating that Amelie, and by far the greater film, and that is Catherine.

I don't think any woman like her has ever been put on screen: willful, strong, yet ever changing and impossible to get a grasp on. She is truly - as much as that expression is a cliche - a force of life: someone whose passion is for living and for living grandly, wildly, freely. She can stand in for every woman, but at the same time I don't know anyone even remotely like her.

Nobody could have played her as well as Jeanne Moreau, of course. She's infuriating, but you can understand why Jules and Jim can't let her go, why she exerts a fascination on them even before they meet, and why they go along with her plans, her desires. Why they try so hard to make her happy, even knowing that it's an impossible task. Why they strive to understand this strange woman, who jumps into the Seine out of protest, dresses up as a man at will, and laughs that wonderful, triumphant, and slightly intimidating laugh.

The tragedy, of course, is that just like Jules and Jim can never be free of Catherine, she can never be free, because she can never be satisfied. She simply wants too much: the home life with Jules, the love life with Jim, the sex life with Albert, even, and independence despite all this. Yet she never, ever stops trying, and even at the end, where it could be said she gives up, you can also see it as her trying out a whole new form of freedom.

There's more to the film, of course. It's gorgeous to look at, the music is amazing, and the tempo, the pace, is unlike any other film I know. It's a tragic film, in a way, but it never makes me said, just melancholic, wistful and feeling like throwing my life upside down. Feeling like simply living more.