Get Low

Get Low: it looks great, it sounds great, and you aren’t going to find better actors than Robert Duvall, Sissy Spacek, and Bill Murray.  Yes, the story’s thin, but you can’t always have it all.

In Get Low, Duvall plays an old hermit who lives in the woods.  He’s the man people fear, the one the kids whisper about around the campfire.  He’s tired of being whispered about, and hires funeral director Bill Murray to hold his funeral while he’s still alive.  He wants to give the townspeople a chance to tell their stories right out loud.  Could this be because Sissy Spacek, a presumed old flame, has returned to town after a long absence?

It’s no spoiler to say that Duvall’s character is more than meets the eye.  We wouldn’t have much of a film, otherwise.  As the drama unspooled, however, I found myself caring more about the actor than the character.  I felt like I was watching a great performer at work, and I dove into the film from that perspective.  In the film’s climax, Duvall gives us both barrels: I still recall this thing he does with voice and hands, and I challenge you not to be blown away.

This isn’t a great film, but it’s worth your time if you’re fond of these actors.  I am, and I walked away happy.

The Shining

There’s so much to love about The Shining that I don’t know where to begin.  This is the scariest ghost story ever put to film.  Its twin girls have become legendary.  “Here’s Johnny” brings Jack Nicholson, not Johnny Carson, to mind.  We remember Scatman Crothers not as a musician, but as a chef.

But there is one thing, one thing about which I hadn’t given much thought to prior to my last screening.  Musically, The Shining is extraordinary.  Yes, we all remember “Symphonie Fantastique” and the opening credits.  But think back to Jack and Danny in the bedroom, when Danny asks his father if he’d ever hurt him.  The music is another voice in the room, not just underlining the dialogue but mimicking, feeding off, building it into something more than two guys talking.  Or think about Wendy and the manuscript and the scampering strings like rats running up and down your spine.

So I wonder: is there a musical commentary track to The Shining out there somewhere?  I’d love to hear Gordon Stainforth, who edited preexisting music to replace the unsuccessful original score, walk me through his choices scene by scene, beat by beat.  His work is masterful, and I’d love to learn more about it.

Now that I think about it, I’m going to do a deep dive on The Shining.  I’m going to read what I can and watch whatever commentaries are out there and sink my teeth into this one.

It’s worth it, because The Shining isn’t just one of the best horror films ever made.  It’s the best, and it’s worth the effort.

Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go is basically Parts: The Clonus Horror, but for chicks.  Is has the same premise as Parts, but it goes for melancholy romance instead of horror thriller.

It would have been better as a horror thriller.

Never Let Me Go, which is about three clones and their love triangle, is supposed to make us cry as they try to find happiness in the face of mortality.  It made me think about how much better it would have been if they’d set out to confront an unnaturally long-lived Peter Graves.  This is a drab, depressing, ultimately dull film, and I wish I had a clone so it could have sat through it instead of me.

Bummer.

The Fighter

Recently, I looked through a buddy’s photos from Afghanistan.  Mark Wahlberg had come to his base to premiere The Fighter, and one of the photos showed the movie star carrying all his own gear out of the back of the C-130 on which he’d flown in.  Wahlberg, apparently, was a great guy: eating with the junior Marines, making time for a word and a photo with all who asked, and generally making his momma proud.

I’m sure Wahlberg went all the way to Afghanistan because it was the right thing to do.  It also worked as a promotional strategy, because I rented The Fighter the day I saw those photos.

It’s a hell of a good movie, but it’s hard to watch.  Wahlberg plays Mickey, a small time boxer in a family devoted to small time boxing.  His older brother Dicky (Christian Bale, phenomenal here) may have knocked down Sugar Ray Leonard once upon a time, but now he’s a pathetic crackhead.  His mother (Melissa Leo, unrecognizable after Frozen River) seems intent on managing him into oblivion.  The rest of the circus that comprises his family doesn’t seem much better.  Then Wahlberg meets Amy Adams (Enchanted, Charlie Wilson’s War), a local bartender and very tough broad who shows him another way.

I know what you’re thinking: “Why would I see this movie?  If I want to spend time with a dysfunctional family, I’ll go home for Christmas.”  See it for the performances.  See it for Mickey, a fighter who must learn to stop worrying about making everybody happy.  See it for Dickey, an ex-fighter who may never learn that it’s impossible to be a cool guy who also smokes a little crack on the side.  See it for their mother, who believes she’s the proud matriarch of a noble clan when, in fact, she’s a 70-year-long train wreck that’s about 2/3 of the way through.

The Fighter works, and it works because of these great performers.  Seeing this movie is like seeing a master class in the art of acting, and I enjoyed it for that alone.  All that, and Mark Wahlberg’s a good guy.  What more do you need?