Letters From Iwo Jima

Clint Eastwood’s FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS, a film about the lives of the men who raised the flag on Iwo Jima, lived on the island and crawled whenever it shifted its focus from the fighting there. In LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA, Eastwood’s companion piece, the director wisely restricts the action to Iwo Jima itself, with limited flashbacks to other locales. By choosing to dedicate his efforts to making a classically structured war film, Eastwood not only bested his previous effort.  He made a classic war film.

LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA tells the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima from the perspective of the Japanese. This brilliant choice provides the opportunity to get into the minds of a group that, frankly, I’d never much considered. Who were these fanatical defenders of a lost cause? What made them tick? LETTERS gives us two proxies, General Kuribayashi and Private Saigo, to give us different perspectives on the experience, and the conceit could have killed the movie had Eastwood chosen the wrong performers. Fortunately, he chose Ken Watanabe and Kazunari Ninomiya, and both of them do extraordinarily well.

Watanabe, who first drew international attention as the only good thing about the ghastly THE LAST SAMURAI, infuses General Kuribayashi with the wisdom, courage, brilliance, and leadership ability of an absolutely first class general officer. Watanabe bears comparison to Mifune with his commanding screen presence and instant likeability, and he even manages to bring dignity to a painfully awkward scene that’s meant to illustrate the transnational brotherhood of officers, but really illustrates the screenwriter’s lack of faith in his audience’s ability to infer that lesson from other material present in the story.

Ninomiya could best be described as the Japanese Nick Cannon. He looks a bit like Cannon, he moves like Cannon, and he carries the same easy likeability as Cannon. As the hapless Private Saigo, he’s nearly the opposite of General Kuribayashi, and his character has his own window on the confusion, violence, and fear of the battle. While Kuribayashi is honor-bound in the face of defeat, Saigo seriously considers desertion. While Kuribayashi is a fearsome warrior and noble leader, Saigo can’t hit a thing and complains like a, well, like a soldier. We may want to be like Kuribayashi, but we’re probably more like Saigo, and Saigo’s performance both humanizes his condition and makes us identify with him.

This film has more going for it than just its performances, however fine those performances may be. Eastwood’s command of filmmaking ensures that we never lose sight of who is doing what to whom and where, a mightily difficult task in the world of war films. Like SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, to which this film has been compared, LETTERS makes us feel the immediacy, the randomness, the virtual inescapability of death in combat. Unlike RYAN, it also has a compelling story with believable characters and situations that help us understand what it was like to fight on Iwo Jima, regardless of uniform.

I plan to fly to Iwo Jima this week, and I was unhappy with FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS because it didn’t give me enough insight into the battle that raged there over the course of February and March, 1945. LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA did that for me, and it did it while giving me characters and situations both foreign and familiar. This movie makes Iwo Jima come alive, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Revenge of the Sith

Last night, I got trapped on the couch. My older boy is on a Star Wars kick, and I was happy to sit down for a moment and fire up REVENGE OF THE SITH for him. Five minutes in, DB gave me the baby, and I was as thoroughly confined as Alex de Large. Here follow my ravings:

So, two Sith are conspiring together in an out-of-the-way place. "We shall have our revenge!" hisses one. "Yes!" hisses the other. This scene, from THE PHANTOM MENACE, is a head scratcher. Revenge for what? Against whom? Since the turnover rate among Sith is fairly high, who exactly is "we"?

These conundra are never addressed in STAR WARS: EPISODE III - REVENGE OF THE SITH. Who the heck are the Sith, anyway? What does it mean to be a Sith Lord? I mean, is it a good deal? Does it come with a hunting lodge in Balmoral, or at least a view of Waikiki*? And for what slight do they continue to seek revenge? Is it the eye thing, or the James Whale fetish? Do they go hand in hand, so to speak?

These are only a few of the issues left outstanding by REVENGE OF THE SITH. To get hung up on them, however, is to focus on the wrong things when viewing this movie. Lucas would have us focus on Annakin's moral choices and bemoaning his slow turn to evil. Of course, those choices had already been made, that course inexorably set, in ATTACK OF THE CLONES, but never mind. On what should we focus, then? The pretty space battles, the ridiculously acrobatic lightsaber duels (There's one bit in which a dueling Obi-Wan and Annakin face away from one another and twirl their lightsabers for no apparent reason. I'm still trying to decide if they were auditioning for the Cheer or Synchronized Swimming squads.), and the neat costumes. Sadly, these elements aren't enough to make REVENGE OF THE SITH a particularly rousing or engaging picture.

Ah, well. At least she didn't use eye clamps.

*Think about it.

Hollywoodland

Jim Beaver wrote this review of HOLLYWOODLAND for the IMDB. I liked it so much I asked his permission to reprint it here, and he graciously agreed.
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As someone who has spent a number of years preparing the definitive biography of actor George Reeves, I approached this film with great trepidation. I had previously turned down several offers for the film rights to my own book because I felt it unlikely that those projects would result in a film truthful to the essence of the man I had come to know so well. All I can say is that the makers of "Hollywoodland" came as close as is humanly possible in the real world of movie-making to achieving exactly what I would have hoped for -- an examination of George Reeves's life and death that is true to the times he lived in,
true to the kind of man I found him to be, and as true as possible to the most likely scenarios that have been projected to explain his death. While this is not a biography nor a documentary, and while adhering to each and every fact of Reeves's life would have resulted in a film exactly as long as his life, the artists here have done a powerful and affecting job of telling Reeves's story, and have framed it in a fictional setting that illuminates rather than obscures the truth. In any event, in any life, there is what happened and then there is the truth, and the two may not always equally serve our understanding of the event or life in question. It is true that "Hollywoodland" takes occasional liberties with specific facts, in no less way than Shakespeare took liberties with the real life facts of Hamlet or Julius Caesar. But as Alfred Hitchcock said, drama is life with the dull bits left out. What matters is not whether a costume is the right shade of blue or whether there's really a gas station at the intersection of Sunset and Benedict Canyon. What matters is whether the essence of a true story has been faithfully told. And "Hollywoodland" does a superb job of portraying that essence, who George Reeves was, what his world was like, and what impact he had on those who knew him and those who only knew of him. Allen Coulter, the director, has done a splendid job capturing the era and has paid enormous attention both to period detail and to the details of the lives of the real-life characters. Only Reeves's fans (and not even many of them) will notice the pinkie ring on Ben Affleck's finger or the widow's peak in his hairline or the exotic Alvis auto he owns, yet these are all completely authentic to the actual Reeves. More importantly, Coulter has done an exemplary job of making Reeves into a human being, one whose dreams we ache for almost as much as he does in the story.

Adrien Brody, as the fictional detective whose story provides the audience a window into Reeves's life, is solid and manages to bring a little charisma to the comparative low-life he plays. Diane Lane is superb as Reeves's lover, the sexually hungry but aging Toni Mannix. And Ben Affleck does certainly his best dramatic work ever as George Reeves. In makeup, and with his own matching cleft chin, Affleck sometimes looks astonishing like the real Reeves. But more importantly, he captures the haunted quality of the actor on a treadmill to oblivion, as well as the immense charm for which the real Reeves is widely remembered in Hollywood. Although the script does not give any of the actors the kind of deeply meaty scenes that win Oscars, some of the hardest work to do is for an actor to excel in scenes that don't require fireworks. Affleck in particular does so in this film, and I think it does him credit. He is reported to have researched the role intensely, and it shows. The performances of Larry Cedar, Bob Hoskins, and Lois Smith also stand out especially distinctively.

The cinematography is stunning, with the frequent flashbacks clearly distinguishable from the "present day" scenes without the distinction being glaring or even obvious. And the musical score is elegant and very evocative of the time.

It is perhaps inevitable that die-hard Superman fans, for whom George Reeves is not so much a human being as he is a sort of superhero himself, will find things to carp and cavil about in this film. As a researcher with over thirty years of in-depth study of Reeves's life, I can split hairs over details pretty easily myself. And I suspect, too, that some of the complaints will be about the depiction of things that are actually true, but which don't show Reeves in a worshipful light. All I can say is that I have spent my adult life studying, admiring, and trying to understand the man whose story this film tells, and I think George Reeves would be touched and proud of the care these filmmakers have taken. I highly recommend "Hollywoodland."

Attack of the Clones

After the cheese grater to the eyes that was THE PHANTOM MENACE, George Lucas had no where to go but up with Episode II in the STAR WARS prequel trilogy, ATTACK OF THE CLONES. While ATTACK has serious flaws, it's more fun than PHANTOM, has niftier battles, and features Natalie Portman's midriff. In fact, I'd say it's my second-favorite STAR WARS movie, though that praise grows fainter as I grow older.

But this is a prequel movie, so let's dispense with the rest of the praise and turn, instead to the fun part: picking out all the obvious flaws in the film! Let's get started:

1. Amidala is fatally compromised when she chooses to cover up Annakin's slaughter of the Sand People.

2. Annakin's character arc is essentially completed when he (a) slaughters the Sand People and (b) refuses to take responsibility for his actions.

3. Annakin's whole deal is that he really wants to be a doctor. The guy's a super-genius who is able to design and build high-performance racing craft and advanced androids in his childhood workshop: surely, he could pass the MCATs. Besides, a Jedi doctor would be a handy asset to have around. How hard of a sell could this be?

4. Yoda is full of shit. He can't make a decision; he can't sense that the Force is strong with the villain (for that matter, he can't put together that bad guys always wear black, and there are only two black-clad guys in the neighborhood); he can't do much more than sit around and frown. Further, he fakes an injury pretty much all the time, just so he can surprise his opponents with his startling ability to turn into a superball at will.

Those are just off the top of my head - feel free to add some of your own. Nevertheless, ATTACK OF THE CLONES benefits from a propulsive energy lacked by its predecessor. That doesn't make this a great movie - hell, it doesn't even make it a particularly good movie - but it does make it a fun pulpfest. I'll take it.

Dreamgirls

Bill Condon's DREAMGIRLS had me smiling and tapping my foot almost from the opening credits. Here's a musical with infectious songs, interesting characters, and productioon values like you wouldn't believe. It looks great, it sounds great, and it feels great - what more could you ask for?

Here's the deal: DREAMGIRLS runs like a musical biopic about Barry Gordy, Diana Ross, and The Supremes. The film is enough like real life to add versimilitude, but it's different enough to (a) avoid litigation and (b) pump things up a little. And pump things up, it does. It uses its numbers to do so and, if they work for you, you're going to love this movie. Jennifer Hudson is revelatory, Beyonce Knowles is predictably fabulous, and Eddie Murphy managed to do something I didn't think possible - he broke my heart. If only Jamie Foxx had had a number of his own: his career-defining performance in RAY, it seems like a waste not to use him here.

You know what? I loved this movie. I loved the performances, the framing, the set design, the story, and the music. This, not CHICAGO, should be the template for the filmed musical. Now, if only I could get this theme song out of my mind.

The Phantom Menace

Back in 1999, I walked in to STAR WARS: EPISODE 4: THE PHANTOM MENACE with diminished, yet still living, expectations. I'd disliked the Special Editions of the original trilogy, but I thought that Lucas's vision might work better in an original film than it did in the reworks. I was wrong, and I loathed THE PHANTOM MENACE. Was that an honest evaluation, however, or was that the disappointment talking?

Well, I saw the PHANTOM MENACE again this weekend, and I think I can give the picture a fairer shake today.

It's one of the worst major motion pictures ever made.

So many things about this movie are wrong, it's hard to know where to begin. So, how about at the beginning? The opening crawl starts with, "Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic. The taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems is in dispute." That may be a great kickoff for an episode of "The McLaughlin Group," but nothing about it says Adventure. Soon, we're in a road movie. Characters fly, walk, swim, scoot, and otherwise go here and there, and the whole proceedings have the immediacy of an f/x real from a picture still a year out from its release date.

Then, we get to Tattooine and things get really bad. Young Jake Lloyd, who plays Darth Child, is not up to the task. He's horribly bad, elementary-school-recital bad, and he makes his character wholly uninteresting. Not that he had much to work with: how does a movie get an audience to invest in a character that its members hope will wind up a greasy stain on a canyon wall?

And so it goes, until THE PHANTOM MENACE climaxes with a lukewarm rehash of STAR WARS's destruction of the death star that could only satisfy someone who's first SW film this is. It's ghastly, it's creatively bankrupt, and it isn't even entertaining.

But wait, there's more: that's not even the big finish. There's a coup de grace when some retainer in a silly costume delivers the payoff line to the big villain: "So much for your trade franchise, Viceroy!" We began with "The McLaughlin Group" and we end with "Wall Street Week." It's fitting.

When I settled down for THE PHANTOM MENACE, I thought my opinion had nowhwere to go but up. Boy, was I wrong. I used to dislike this movie. Now, I loathe it. What an utter waste of time and talent.

Son of Godzilla

I once wrote that I'm a sucker for father-son stories. "No matter how lame, no matter how schmaltzy," I wrote, "toss in some father/son bonding and you've got me."

I take it back.

"Son of Godzilla" is so brain-rendingly, time-stoppingly bad that all the father-son-giant-lizard bonding in the world can't redeem it. Here's the setup: there's this egg on this island populated by giant praying mantises and a Japanese research team. The mantises crack the egg and out pops baby Godzilla, the cutest little monster an androgynous giant city-stomper could hope for. Dad's a bit protective, of course, which leads to some issues with the mantises, a giant spider, and the unfortunate humans who keep getting underfoot. The effects are horrible, the story is ghastly, and the movie's so earnestly bad that it can't even redeem itself on camp value.

Give "Son of Godzilla" a pass. Trust me on this one.

War of the Worlds

Logic and science quibbles aside, WAR OF THE WORLDS is simply an unsatisfying movie. It's spectacular, yes, and I appreciate its decision to make its centerpiece the human drama of a family coming together. Problem is, I didn't have any investment in that drama. Tom Cruise gave me no reason to root for him instead of the guy next to him; Dakota Fanning is a disturbing little childbot; and the guy who plays the son needs a good swift kick in the ass.

I couldn't help but compare this movie to SIGNS, a picture with a similar premise and much less spectacle. SIGNS, I think, was much more effective in its portrayal of a family under pressure, and I was right there with Mel Gibson every step of the way.

Chances are, I'll never sit down for another screening of WAR OF THE WORLDS. I would, however, be happy to spend some more time with the people from SIGNS.