TRUE GRIT: Another Instant Classic From The Coen Brothers

TRUE GRIT (Dirs. Joel & Ethan Coen, 2010)

Since they stumbled in the early Aughts with a couple of sub par offerings (INTOLERABLE CRUELTY, THE LADYKILLERS), Joel and Ethan Coen have been on a grand roll. The Oscar winning NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, the comedy hit BURN AFTER READING, and last year’s critically acclaimed A SERIOUS MAN were all excellent additions to their canon, but their newest film – TRUE GRIT – may be the best of the batch.

An adaptation of the 1968 novel by Charles Portis rather than a remake of the 1969 John Wayne film, TRUE GRIT is in many ways a traditional example of the Western genre. What makes it so much more is its handling of the manner of characters that appear naturalistic yet still exuberantly exaggerated – in a way that long-time followers of the Coens will appreciate royally.

The “Dude” himself, Jeff Bridges, plays U.S. Marshall Reuben J. “Rooster” Cogburn – an iconic role that is considered one of the most definitive of the Duke’s. Bridges owns it here however with a drunken swagger and a grizzled gusto.

The real protagonist of the story is the 14 year old Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) who recruits Bridges to help her hunt down her father’s murderer (Josh Brolin). For such a young whippersnapper, Steinfeld has a stern delivery confirming her determination and her sometimes harsh words to Bridges have a sting to them that is more than equal to Kim Darby’s readings in the 1969 version.

See? It’s hard not to compare this film to the original adaptation.

They follow the same plot progressions and the spirit of Western homage is certainly present, but the Coens saw the piece as funnier with less Hollywood sentiment and they deliver a film that lives up to their vision gloriously.

Matt Damon, who was long overdue for a part in a Coens production, has a juicy gruff character of his own in Texas Ranger Le Bouef. Damon is at first just along for the ride with Bridges and Steinfeld, but his jaded face-offs with the Marshall and the foes they encounter along the way have a hilarious bite to them as the tension builds.

As a Western in the classic mold with a body count, I didn’t expect TRUE GRIT to be as funny as it is – it’s for sure one of the Coen’s most laugh-filled films since THE BIG LEBOWSKI – just about every utterance of Bridge’s is comic gold and his fellow cast mates (including crusty turns by a deranged Brolin and Barry Pepper as Lucky Ned Pepper funnily enough) hold their own humor-wise as well.

Then there’s the magnificent cinematography by Coen Bros. collaborator Roger Deakins that fills the frame with striking shots of the blinding terrain in New Mexico and Texas as well as the extreme jolting actor close-ups that flicker with raw emotion.

Another Coen Bros. co-hort Carter Burwell, who has been with them since BLOOD SIMPLE (1984), provides a score composed of gospel hymns and effectively spare piano accompaniment.

TRUE GRIT is an instant classic. From the Coen Brothers’ ace direction to the cast’s top notch acting spouting out hilarious dialog line after line and then on to the wondrous look, feel, and heart of the film, I honestly can not think of a negative criticism of it. I can’t wait to see it again. If I find anything to dislike about it then – I’ll get back to you.

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YOU WILL MEET A TALL DARK STRANGER: The Film Babble Blog Review

YOU WILL MEET A TALL DARK STRANGER (Dir. Woody Allen, 2010)

Another year, another Woody Allen movie. Another one set in London, but hey! No Scarlett Johansson – so that’s saying something.

This ensemble comedy with Anthony Hopkins, Naomi Watts, and Josh Brolin as the principles reminds me of Juliette Lewis in Allen’s 1992 dramedy HUSBANDS AND WIVES telling her professor (played by Allen) her impressions of his long gestating novel:

“You make suffering so funny. All the lost souls running around.”

There’s plenty of lost souls, but suffering though isn’t so funny here – it’s not even that affecting.

To break it down – we start with Gemma Jones as the estranged wife of Hopkins visiting a fortune teller (Pauline Collins) for advice about how to move on. She’s despondent and in need of drink which could define every character on display.

Jones’ daughter, Watts, is in a frustrating marriage to Brolin who is struggling with writing a new novel. Brolin pines for a woman (Frieda Pinto from “Slumdog Millionaire”) he sees through his flat’s adjacent window.

Watts, meanwhile pines for her new boss (Antonio Banderas) at the art gallery where she just got a new job as an assistant.

In one of the most clichéd premises of a mid life crises I’ve ever seen Hopkins introduces his new fiancée (Lucy Punch) to Watts and Brolin over dinner and the extremely unnecessary narrator (Zak Orth) tells us that he’s not telling the whole truth about her.

Punch is a ditzy call girl who Hopkins woos into matrimony with promises of minks and money you see and so, of course, it’s a doomed relationship.

Meanwhile Brolin, jealous of a friend’s manuscript, goes to the dark side after finding out that his friend is dead after an automobile accident. He steals the book and his publisher loves it, but the catch is that is that his friend isn’t dead – he’s in a coma and doctors say there’s a chance he could recover at any time.

Brolin courts Pinto causing her to call off her engagement while Watts finds out her boss is seeing somebody else on the side from his wife and Hopkins is cuck-holded by Punch who also runs up quite a tab on his dime.

Jones, with the help of Collins, seeks spiritual comfort as well as companionship, but might find both in the form of, no, not a tall dark stranger, a short fat one portrayed by Roger Ashton-Griffiths who owns an occult bookshop and pines for his deceased wife.

The same tired themes of spirituality verses common sense are trotted out – it’s a treatise on whatever works to get one through life – like say in Allen’s last film “Whatever Works” – and the emptiness that the characters try to overcome weighs down the film in a wretched way.

Still, Brolin’s dilemma is compelling stuff even if it doesn’t come to a satisfying resolution (or any resolution really).

YOU WILL MEET A TALL DARK STRANGER is a close to middling film with one juicy story thread (Brolin’s literary nightmare) amid warmed over Woody Allen thematic material that he has done to death.

Somebody not so fluent with the Woodman’s work may get more out of it, but would such a person really be interested in seeing it?

Brolin’s scenerio made me think that’s there’s still enough there for Allen to keep making movies, but maybe not so often as a film a year like his current record.

That’s not gonna happen however. Allen has another project already in the works (MIDNIGHT IN PARIS) so maybe I should be thankful at this late date that at least some shred of quality still remains.

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MILK – The Film Babble Blog Review

MILK (Dir. Gus Van Sant, 2008)

The purpose and passion contained in this portrait of the first openly gay politician has gathered such critical and box office buzz that the oft repeated thesis that the vote on Proposition 8 may have turned out differently had MILK been released before the election is far from mere hype. In Gus Vant Sant’s best film since MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO, Sean Penn completely and compellingly absorbs the plucky persona of an ambitious and enthusiastic San Franciscan business man who after a few failed attempts was voted a city supervisor. With the support of the homosexual community and many sympathetic liberals Harvey Milk fought a fierce battle to defeat Proposition 6 which, if passed, would have discriminated against California public schools hiring gay employees.

The film is framed by a neat natural feeling narration in which Milk records an audiotape relating the story of his political career and a few devastating personal relationships on the side. Much real life footage is used including footage from news reports of the era and photographs that make up an opening montage showing police harassment of gay bar patrons. We are introduced to Milk as he introduces himself to an easy going hippy played by James Franco who quickly becomes his lover. They move from New York to California together and the enterprising Milk opens a camera store in a pre-dominantly gay neighborhood. Gay activism helps Milk’s mojo but turns off his companion at the same time he forms heavy alliances including student and later S.F. AIDS Foundation founder Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch with a frizzy fro oddly making him look like a skinny Jack Black).

There is not a wasted moment in MILK as the momentum flows evenly through to our protagonist’s later days. Josh Brolin, obviously now approaching the A-list after lauded turns in NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN and W., has an effective restless role as Dan White – a fellow Supervisor who assassinates Milk and Mayor George Moscone (Victor Garber). This last bit is no Spoiler mind you, the film gives us this info up front and I doubt anybody reading this will be unaware of Milk’s fate. With its use of much archival footage seemlessly blended in and touching display of campaign comaraderie it’s a nice companion piece to Rob Epstein’s 1984 documentary THE TIMES OF HARVEY MILK.

I predict that MILK will dominate the upcoming awards season and deservedly so; very few supposed “event” movies, especially of the historic biopic ilk live up to their billing but nothing here falls short – the acting, the screenplay by Dustin Lance Black, the focused film-making, and the choice of era music – even the overused Sly and the Family Stone song “Everyday People” feels right. The best performance of Sean Penn’s career in the most accomplished and powerful project that Gus Van Sant has ever delivered is so much more than must see cinema. It’s such a supremely entertaining and essential endeavor that it should be classified a mandatory movie.

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Dubya Gets Stoned! W. – The Film Babble Blog Review

W. (Dir. Oliver Stone, 2008)

<!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} — <!– /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} —“If NIXON was a symphony, this is more like a chamber piece and not as dark in tone”.
– Oliver Stone (Daily Variety 1/20/08)

Since his paranoid thriller epic masterpiece JFK (1991), Oliver Stone has developed a reputation for throwing people off what his suspected tack will be for hitting his targets. Most thought NIXON (1995) would be a savage dressing down of the fraudulent former president but what emerged was a grand (and at at times surreal) sympathetic portrait of a man stalking the corridors of power tormented by demons. There were no 9/11 truth movement conspiracy theories or any political agendas in WORLD TRADE CENTER (2006), it was simply the story of a couple of firefighters struggling to survive while buried in Ground Zero rubble. Now Stone gives us W. (pronounced “Dubya” as some in the press have dubbed him), the first ever feature length drama focusing on a President while he’s still in office. While it does contain plenty of grist for the Bush hater’s mill, it is actually an empathetic study balancing swift satire with earnest melodrama.

W. skips back and forth timeline-wise from Bush’s ANIMAL HOUSE-esque frat days to the Oval office Iraq war strategy sessions up to his re-election in 2004. Josh Brolin embodies our 43rd president with a swagger and ever present determination; sometimes overly arrogant, sometimes an impulsive hothead who can’t seem to relax even when lounging watching Sportscenter drinking a non-alcoholic beer and munching on miniature pretzels (if you know your history, you know what happens with those pretzels). This is a man with major Daddy issues as seen in the recreations of his early days, who disappoints his father (James Cromwell as George Bush Sr.) right and left with his constant career failures and constant drinking. “I’ll never get out of Poppy’s shadow!” he exclaims as he attempts to get a grasp on his destiny.

As “the decider” he surrounds himself with some of his Papa’s former staff including Dick Cheney (a strangely subdued Richard Dreyfuss) and Colin Powell (a stoical Jeffrey Wright) who come off as the devil fighting with the angel on Bush’s shoulders in meeting after meeting. Bush’s reasons for the war in Iraq are angrily off the cuff: “I don’t like mud suckers who gas their own people!” and “I don’t like assholes who try to kill my father!” Despite Powell’s voice of reason deterrents Bush goes to the Cheney darkside believing that he is serving a higher power than his father and never letting consensus criticism get in his way.

Extensively researched and layered with obviously labored over exposition, Stanley Weiser’s screenplay mostly speculates about what goes on behind closed doors more than the already documented public record. 9/11 is thankfully not dramatized or even visually referenced, likewise Katrina and the extraordinary events of the 2000 election (see RECOUNT for that), though there are a number of restaging of W.’s greatest hits. The “Mission Accomplished” aircraft carrier episode and various press conference and interview examples of embarrassing statements (“Is our children learning” for one) are given Stone’s patented cinematic treatment albeit with a more restrained and less flashy presentation than in his previous work. Don’t worry though, Stone staples like “glow lighting” on actors in dark interiors, seamless blending of real footage into the movie mix, and a quality ensemble cast (including Scott Glenn, Bruce McGill, Toby Jones and Stacy Keach) are all on vivid display.

Unfortunately a long time complaint about Stone’s work bears true as the women characters are underwritten and cliché driven. Elizabeth Banks as Laura Bush mostly sits on the sidelines looking pretty offering trite support to her man while Thandie Newton’s snippy take on Condoleezza Rice barely registers in the many boy’s club discussions. Of the ladies only Ellen Burstyn has some good blustery moments as Barbara Bush but she too has a very limited point of view. Brolin though is the show as he carries the entire movie with his performance. With his concentrated vocal inflections and intense brow furthering he pulls off a Bush that is not a caricature but a believable guy which is quite a feat in the world of non-stop Daily Show jabs and SNL impressions of what many consider the worst President ever. James Cromwell, who never attempts to imitate Bush Sr.’s voice, should be recognized come awards season for his measured and sternly nuanced work here – his presence is the finest and most effective in this film.

W. gives a wide personal perspective to a man who many feel doesn’t deserve one. It will play as a broad comedy to some audiences with folks mining the material for mirth but the poignant sadness of a powerful world figure standing in an empty stadium imagining cheering crowds and a possible grab for baseball star greatness will linger longer than the laughs. Oliver Stone’s “chamber piece” as he calls it, isn’t a typical biopic but a dramatic thesis that goes out of its way to avoid cheap shots supremely aware that its choir has already been inundated with them. W., while no masterpiece, is a great gutsy and ambitious movie about a not-so great gutsy and ambitious man. It succeeds on helping us relate with, not hate on George W. Bush even if you, like me, can’t wait to see him leave office.

More later…