Voice of the Tenenbaums

"Royal Tenenbaum bought the house on Archer Avenue in the Winter of his thirty-fifth year."

This week for my Unsung Heroes column I went for what is maybe my favorite detail in a movie full of brilliant details. Alec Baldwin's narration of The Royal Tenenbaums. Check it out.

Ten Seconds of Suspense

When Nathaniel from The Film Experience asked everyone to pick a favorite shot from Hitchcock's Psycho for this week's episode of his fascinating Hit Me With Your Best Shot series I knew in an instant which one it would be. So familiar am I with Psycho, so in love am I with the way the master guides us through this endlessly entertaining masterpiece that I actually get antsy with anticipation waiting for this particular shot to show up.

But rewatching the film I had second thoughts. Maybe I should pick something more significant. Like this shot:

which just about summarized the next fifty years of horror films in a fraction of a second.

Or how about this shot:

I could easily whip up a thousand words about the brilliance of Hitch's shot compositions in Pyscho and feel like I've barely scratched the surface.

But ultimately when I think about Hitchcock's films I don't think about individual shots as much as I do with other masters. With Hitch it's all about the timing, the editing. The thrill of watching one piece fall perfectly in place atop another, accumulating power as it builds. It's the context of my favorite shot which makes it my favorite shot in Psycho, which, to paraphrase Lebowski, puts it high in the running for my favorite shot of all time.

Ready?

Here it is:

"Oh, shit"

Not much to look at, is it? A mundane, functional shot. But in Hitchcock's hands it is just about the purest movie fun there is. Coming at the end of the virtuoso wordless sequence where Norman cleans up after Mother, Hitchcock has deftly segued from the heart attack of the shower sequence to the sustained dread of Norman's cover up. All the momentum builds to the sinking of all the evidence in the bog behind the motel. It slowly gurgles its way beneath the surface and then...nothing. 

Ten seconds elapse as as we sit holding our breath, watching this car stuck in the mire before it finally resumes sinking. Other writers have noted how beautifully Hitch transfers our allegiance from Marion to Norman, or what the swamp represents thematically. I will simply note that there is no beating the gasp one involuntary produces when the car fails to complete it's disappearance under the muck. It's the quiet flip side to the shriek produced by the shower sequence. 

You can follow me on Twitter at @SeriousFilm 

Line Reading Hall of Fame #3

"What is it Major Lawrence that attracts you personally to the desert?"

"It's clean."

Marlon and Tennessee

My entry in the Tennessee Williams 100th Birthday Blog-a-Thon is up over at The Film Experience. I chose to tackle the great melodramatic mess that is Marlon Brando's second film of a Tennessee Williams play, Sidney Lumet's The Fugitive Kind. 


Check it out, and while you're over there you should take a minute for some of the other entries in the series. They're well worth a read.

Movie Bleed Through

The casting of Vivien Leigh as Blanche Dubuois in Kazan's screen adaptation of A Streetcar Named Desire may constitute the greatest bleed-through in cinematic history. A bleed-through is defined as when another film or performance seeps through into a different movie lending it extra levels of depth. Think the image of perfectly handsome 80's Mickey Rourke haunting every shot of Randy the Ram's shattered visage. Or how the accumulated power of Clint Eastwood's screen persona adds to the finalé of Unforgiven when he appears as an avenging angel to cast judgment on the whole western genre.

Of course, those films, like Streetcar, work on their own terms. It is not strictly necessary to get the references. That said, it can be borderline impossible  for these cinematic ghosts to be kept at bay. Is it possible, for example, to hear Blanche carrying on about her legion of gentlemen callers during the glory days of her youth without this image coming vividly to mind:

I am far from the world's biggest Gone With the Wind fan (Despite being familiar with the film I've seen it end-to-end exactly once) yet when Stanley was puncturing Blanche's delusions of Southern elegance more than once I caught myself expecting Brando to emerge with a slurred version of Clark Gable's, "And you Miss, are no lady." 

Take the shot below, possibly my favorite shot from among the countless beautifully composed images from cinematographer Harry Stradling. I love this shot because of how helpless and small it makes Stanley appear, adding range to a character who exudes ferocious strength for the bulk of movie. I love how it visually represents Stanley's later line about his taking Stella "down off those pedestals" and her loving it. I love this shot because it is objectively beautiful with the spiral staircase moving in and out of silhouette and the shadows of the gate as atmospheric as any film noir.

But as a film lover I also love the way it represents a twisted mirror of this famous image:

Is it possible Kazan or Stradling had this shot in mind when composing the image? I know that's Stella's point-of-view in the first shot, not Blanche's, but for the viewer it can register as the ultimate perversion of Blanche's fantasies of the genteel South. The dapper elegance of Clark Gable replaced by the sweaty animal brutality of Brando. 

Review: Win Win

When it comes to landing bonanza opening weekend grosses for your Summer tent pole release Will Smith is definitely the way to go, no question. On the other hand, once you get past the challenge of putting butts in seats, once you're faced with the problem of actually entertaining people, then minute for minute I'll put the screen time of Paul Giamatti against that of any international mega-star in terms of audience satisfaction.

Giamatti is one of those faces that makes audiences unreasonably happy when it turns up in a movie, and Tom McCarthy's Win Win has a cast populated entirely with such faces. Jeffrey Tambor, Margo Martindale, Bobby Cannavale, Amy Ryan. Melanie Lynskey. Even Burt Young, who I think I last saw kicking ass on The Sopranos, shows up. Beyond providing a jolt of pleasure as each one of these character actors appears, this casting serves a useful purpose. When we have a group with whom we are content to merely share time with, the story doesn't have to rush, drawing us into the life of struggling small time New Jersey lawyer Mike Flaherty without hitting us with breathless plot developments right out of the gate.

Mike is sinking fast. The sad sack wrestling team he coaches is resigned to getting thrown about like practice dummies by their opponents. A boiler is making hellish, expensive-sounding clanging noises beneath his legal practice, a practice which, as far as we can tell, has dwindled to one somewhat senile old man. It seems like no amount of stretching is going to make ends meet, and Mike doesn't have the heart to tell any of this to his wife. A few moments of uninterrupted thought is enough to plunge Mike into a gasping panic attack.

One day, in a desperate spasm of bad judgement, Mike fudges a court case involving the custody of his elderly client. Without giving away too much Mike gains access to some of the old guy's cash while dumping him into the home he was likely headed for anyway. Not quite a victimless crime, but close enough for Mike, an essentially decent man, to rationalize things to himself. At least, that is, until the old man's sullen grandson shows up on his doorstep on the run from his unstable mother, looking for a place to stay and asking questions. Having inserted himself unethically into his clients life Mike is now forced to get mixed up in his family dramas, both to cover up his misdeeds and because he and his wife are inherently caring people.

The skeleton of this plot outline could easily support a by-the-numbers triumph over adversity story with a down on his luck schlub turning his life around in the process of helping an even further down on his luck runaway. If I were to tell you that the kid in question is wrestling prodigy who can turn around the coach's team of losers you could be forgiven for hearing the gears of formula grinding away. But I'm pleased to report, in the case of Win Win, you would be wrong.

It quickly becomes clear that despite the presence of both a team of underdogs and impending legal confrontations McCarthy has no interest in dragging us through the familiar paces of either sports or legal dramas. This is not a story that is going to end with victory at the big match with all the characters jumping out of their seats cheering, nor will it end with a big courtroom speech to save the day.

As in his previous two movies, McCarthy is the fascinated by the way outsiders can collide with our lives, shaking us out of ruts, and forcing perspective upon us. The last thing Mike needs is to be responsible for another person. The kid, named Kyle and played with effective minimalism by newcomer Alex Shaffer, doesn't need one more flawed adult to make a mess of things, even if this one has better intentions than he's used to. Adroitly avoiding the easy payoffs McCarthy guides his characters to deeper more moving places than we might expect involving the ways we disappoint the ones we love, and what it means not just to be sorry but to be worthy of forgiveness.

Paul Giamatti is one of those actors like Peter Lorre or Steve Buscemi who became so beloved as a character actor that he broke permanently out of "that guy" status to become a genuine star. He does this sort of role so well that it is tempting to take for granted how good he is here. Despite similarities to his famous role in Sideways this is an original, nuanced performance, more of an adult than Miles, with none of that character's self-pity and self-destructiveness, Mike is simply a good man capable of making mistakes but also capable of recognizing that this kid is in dire need of help and that he is the person best equipped to provide it.

I've already touched on the fantastic supporting cast but let me make special mention of Amy Ryan as Giamatti's wife and Melanie Lynskey as Kyle's recovering addict mother. Both roles are opportunities for overacting, and they are opportunities that the they decline in favor of stronger, quieter choices. We sense that Amy Ryan could be ferocious in protecting this surrogate son but she mostly keeps it bottled up, wisely sensing that grandstanding is not what the situation calls for. And Lynskey, an actress who I am perpetually surprised to find is not yet a huge star, for once give us an addict without all the extraneous tics that seem to provide an irresistible temptation for other actors in such roles.

Win Win is not without its flaws. Although we get a feel for Kyle's backstory - it says a lot that he shows up sporting a black eye after staying with his Mom's "boyfriend" while she was in treatment - the relationship between the boy and his mother still could have used some fleshing out. On top of which the ending forces the messiness of life into much too tidy a package.

But these problems don't amount to much against the movie's strengths. They are after-the-fact issues, things I mention because it is my job to figure out why exactly I'm holding back from declaring the movie an unqualified triumph. Watching the film I doubt you will be much bothered by them. On the contrary, if you feel anything during the viewing of Win Win I suspect it will be gratitude that filmmakers like McCarthy are still out there telling human stories with as much care as this.

Verdict: A movie as well-crafted heartfelt as Win Win is easy to root for. It was such a pleasure to sit through, in fact, that I have to watch not to get carried away. So I'll repeat that Win Win is not a masterpiece, although at the rate McCarthy is going I wouldn't be surprised if he has one of those to his credit before too long. 7 out of 10. 

Cutesy Crowne

Despite the fact that is was written by Nia Vardolas who has been on an ungodly losing streak, I still pressed play on the Larry Crowne trailer with some optimism, hoping against hope to get excited about a Hanks project again.

Hanks needs to find more projects like Charlie Wilson's War, his lone recent bright spot amid all the Dan Brown shlock and motion capture animation. Maybe Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is that film. It's sure not Larry Crowne which, if this preview is to be believed, is giving off serious dud vibes.

I can't pinpoint exactly when I gave up hope on this one. Oh, wait. I can. It was the close up of Hanks shaking his tighty-whitey clad ass into the camera.

I may be responding so negatively to Crowne because it brings to mind Hanks's cutesy-poo cloying performance in The Terminal, probably my least favorite thing he's ever done. Hanks is appealing when he's verbal and sharp - even Gump was as clever as his abilities allowed.  I have little interest in seeing Hanks bounding around like a puppy dog, encouraging the audience to "Awwww" at his every move.

None More Black

Here it is, direct from Hell, the new edition of Unsung Heroes at The Film Experience. This week: a tribute to This is Spinal Tap

In all honesty, I feel like at some point this post abandoned thoughtful critical analysis and just became a sloppy love letter to Tap. Oh well. Not every post can be the Truffaut/Hitchcock interviews. Still, if you're like me, and are unreasonably in love with Rob Reiner's landmark comedy, check out the new episode.

I've Done It

"The secret impresses no one. The trick you use it for is everything"  

- Alfred Borden in The Prestige

Christopher Nolan may bend over backward and turn his films inside out trying to get at the heart of his narrative labyrinths, but my favorite thing about him is that he knows to stop just shy of complete explanation. Oh, he'll explain a lot. He's not going to send us out into the parking lot completely bewildered - Nolan is not David Lynch, after all. But he knows that the real power is in the mystery, not in the resolution.

The spinning totem at the end of Inception is the most obvious example, but take another look at the above shot which appears in a flurry of moments before the end of Memento. We've just received the truth of Leonard's situation in one large outpouring from Teddy. But just as we think we've got everything squared away this shot throws one last wrench in the gears. There is simply no reconciling it.

It must take place after the events of the movie because that spot on his chest has been blank the whole time. But what is Leonard's wife doing there if Teddy was telling the truth about Sammy Jenkis? And if this is a flashback and he simply had the tattoo removed (an explanation I consider stretching it) then why does he have the familiar JOHN G RAPED AND KILLED MY WIFE tattoo if she is still alive?

I've always took the shot to be an expression of Leonard's memory getting jumbled midway through the process of reshuffling itself into an order more to his liking. Given that explanation not everything has to fit. But once you've pulled on the thread of certainty everything starts to unravel. How reliable was Teddy's explanation, really? He undoubtedly told a lot of truth and he had the polaroid to back him up, but 100% true? Doesn't seem likely, does it?

Take the audience right up to the edge of understanding but stop short. Give them something that lingers in the imagination. That's the way to do it.

First Impressions: A History of Violence

**Spoilers if for some reason you have yet to see A History of Violence**

Continuing with the second installment of First Impressions, Serious Film's look at the introductions of great film characters. 

Not every character entrance has to be as dramatic as Harry Lime in The Third Man or as unforgettable as Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. Take the quietly ingenious way Cronenberg introduces Tom Stall in A History of Violence.

Just before his entrance we see the younger half of a duo of murderers casually walking through the scene of their latest double homicide. 

The faint sound of whimpering reveals an unknown witness: a five year old girl. The killer silences her with a finger to his lips, calmly point his gun, and with the sound of a gunshot we cut -

 -not to his defenseless victim but to another little girl entirely. Little Sarah Stall, who has just woke up screaming from a nightmare.

The sound of his daughter's terror has roused Tom Stall from his slumber, which is appropriate since the violence of those men - edited to be linked with his daughter's screams - is soon to wake Tom from the dream he's been living for the past seventeen years.

"Sarah, honey, what's wrong?

"Daddy, there were monsters."

"No, honey. There's no such thing as monsters."

Ah, but there are such things as monsters. We've seen two of them in the previous seen. Naturally on first viewing we take this exchange as a reference to the brutal crime we just witnessed. Only later do we realize that a monster is right there in the bed with Sarah.

If Tom Stall's family knew the violent acts he's committed in his past, if they had any idea what he's capable of, then they would be horrified to learn that a violent maniac is right at the heart of this portrait of perfect family harmony. Tom thinks he's slain the monster. But he is to discover it was only sleeping.

Of course that's only the first of two introductions Viggo Mortensen gets in this movie. The second and far more memorable of the two takes place roughly 2/3 of the way through the film. In an amazing piece of acting from Viggo Mortensen he wordlessly erases all ambiguity from the film's central mystery with one icy stare.

Meet Joey Cusack.

Kill This Character

Of all the worn out clichés, gimmicks, and plot contrivances, if I could remove one from movie screens of the world, banish it to the surface of the moon never to be heard from again, it would be the girlfriend/boyfriend/fiancé who turns up for the sole purpose of being shallow and hateful and abusive with every breath they take, all in order to prompt the audience to shout, "You shouldn't be with him/her!" the same way they shout for horror movie characters not to open that door.

I'm begging. Please. No more.

Bradley Cooper in The Wedding Crashers

Nothing sinks a movie faster than an appearance by this character. We're supposed to like and root for the lead characters, but how can we when they clearly have the perceptive qualities of a brick, having stumbled into relationships with the likes of, say, Sarah Silverman in School of Rock, a character who lack the gentle tenderness of Alec Baldwin in Glengarry Glen Ross.

Equally Loving.

Not only do they suck the suspense out of the story since the monster companion is obviously there for a cheap cheer moment when they are shunted aside, but the bigger problem is that they instantly destroy the movie's reality. It is never shown how the protagonist got together with this person, and for good reason, since there is no way to explain any decent person with an IQ above 50 getting into a realtionship with such hateful caricatures in the first place. Waitress is a sweet little love story unless her abusive husband is on screen, a character portrayed as so dim and loathsome that he barely walks upright. You keep waiting for him to club Keri Russell over the head and drag her home by the hair. How exactly did those two end up together?

Jeremy Sisto and Keri Russell in Waitress

Is there no other way to get us to root for two people to find each other? If not, why stop there? Why not have the leading lady be in a relationship with a Nazi? or a cannibal? Then we'll really root for the protagonist to come to her senses and move on.

To be fair, if she's in love with Benjamin Braddock her judgment is already questionable.

Of course the other way for lazy romances to deal with the pesky problem of romantic entanglements is to simply have the other suitor disappear right before the movie's climax. Now you see Bill Pullman. Now you don't. This is only slightly better since these characters seem nice enough before they evaporate, but it still tends to involve logic like, "Oh, you say you've reunited with the person who you decided was your soulmate ten years ago when you both reached for the same copy of Anna Karenina but whom you haven't seen since. Well, we've been dating for five years, and are only days away from a wedding that has already cost tens of thousands of dollars, but never mind all that. If you'll just tell me where you two lovebirds are going to have your gift registry I'll just slink off screen and die. Ta!"

"Wasn't I engaged, like, five minutes ago?"

Romantic movies are in terrible shape these days, romantic comedies in particular, and it's because of lazy writing like this. Love isn't neatly divided into Mr. Perfects and Romantic Hitlers. People treasure and return to films like Eternal Sunshine, Annie Hall, and 500 Days of Summer because they reflect romance as it is: Messy with lots of loose ends and hurt feelings.

The Sounds of Montmarte

The new season of Unsung Heroes starts today at The Film Experience. Up first: The Fabulous Music of Amelie Poulain.