Bill Cunningham New York

Brilliant writer and great guy Les Phillips turned me on to Bill Cunningham New York, a film I otherwise wouldn't have seen, with this review.  I loved it, and I think you deserve a chance to have him talk you into seeing, it too.  With Les's permission, here's his review.

BILL CUNNINGHAM NEW YORK (2011, directed by Richard Press).  The legendary photographer and dancer Editta Sherman, well into her nineties but quite frisky and saucy, looks straight at the camera:  "You want me to say something about Bill?"  There are many things to say about Bill, who is one of the most celebrated fashion photographers in the world.  Bill Cunningham goes to all the New York fashion shows and takes pictures; he goes to all the most important charity events in New York and takes pictures; but, very especially, he takes pictures of random women on the street.  I should not say "random" women; Bill prowls Manhattan looking for well dressed women, fashionable women in all modes of fashion, sometimes leaping off his bicycle and into a broken run, through Fifth Avenue traffic, to capture that perfect woman in her perfect clothes. 

Bill Cunningham is 82 years old, and his photographs have appeared in THE NEW YORK TIMES forever and ever.  He is trim and energetic, and he has the face of a slightly mischievous 12-year-old -- full of joy verging on ecstasy, pure delight at his work, which he does all day and all evening. all the time.  For years he has traveled to Paris to photograph the new collections.  He says that he goes to Paris "to re-educate the eye." Bill is a Chevalier de l'ordre des Arts et des Lettres!  He was the only member of the working press invited to Brooke Astor's 100th birthday party.  We see Anna Wintour, the real one, describing him as one of the most important people in the entire fashion industry.  Certainly he must be the least pretentious person in the fashion industry.  Until recently, he lived in a one-room studio over Carnegie Hall, no kitchen, no room to turn around, bathroom in the hallway.  ("What would I do with a bathroom or a kitchen?  I've never eaten in in my whole life!  More rooms to clean!").  His residence is crammed with filing cabinets and more filing cabinets; they contain the negatives of every photograph he has ever taken.  Cunningham has no wardrobe of his own to speak of, and no time for restaurant meals, in New York or Paris either; that would be time not spent working.  He loves stylish and beautiful people because they are stylish and beautiful, but is entirely unimpressed with celebrity itself; he passed up opportunities to photograph Marilyn Monroe and Joan Crawford because "they were not stylish."  He loves the philanthropist Mercedes Bass because he thinks she's kind, and because "in that dress, she looks like a John Singer Sargent portrait."  So Bill photographs her, and, indeed, when he's done, she sure does look like a John Singer Sargent portrait. 

Back to Editta Sherman, who lived down the hall from Cunningham for 40 years, in her own Carnegie Hall studio.  "Some people say I'm a legend," says Sherman.  "Other people say I'm a fixture.  I'm both!"  She talks about Warhol and Leonard Bernstein and the many other famous people she's photographed and worked with.  She worries about Bill.  What does she know about Bill Cunningham's personal life?  "Nothing!"   Bill himself reveals only that he's had no romantic relationships because he's been busy working, and casually brushes away questions about his sexuality.  When asked about his religious beliefs, he becomes uncommonly silent and closed, looks at the table, and mutters something about how Catholicism has always been of deep importance. Bill Cunningham goes to Mass every Sunday morning. 

Bill Cunningham's bicycle is a Schwinn Classic.  It's his 29th Schwinn Classic bicycle; the other 28 were stolen.  He dropped out of Harvard.  He used to design shoes.  He runs through city traffic like a war photographer.  Bill may have met more fabulously rich people than anyone living; he says that "money is the cheapest thing, the least important thing; freedom is what's expensive."  Go see this marvelous film.

Blackthorn

Blackthorn requires that the viewer have at last a passing acquaintance with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  In the 1969 film, Robert Redford and Paul Newman play the titular Butch and Sundance, fun-loving outlaws whose adventures seemingly come to an end when they choose to leap into a river chasm rather than face certain capture and probable death at the hands of Bolivian federales. 

Blackthorn supposes they survived the jump, and it catches up with Cassidy much later in life.  He owns a small ranch high in the Andes and he keeps more-or-less to himself.  Change comes in the form of a letter telling him a lost love is dead, and their adult son lives on in San Francisco.  Butch resolves to cash out the ranch, travel to California and meet his son.  He resolves to reenter the world, albeit under his assumed name: James Blackthorn.

And we're off, but we're off on a different kind of adventure.  While Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is a young man's adventure of fun and hope, Blackthorn is an old man's journey: one of hard choices, regrets, and character.  Blackthorn is elegaic, very much a western of the Old West, and beautiful.

Sam Shepard plays the title character as a tough and principled survivor, and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Jaimie Lannister in HBO's "Game of Thrones") plays him in flashback.  Combined, the two performances give us a man with one foot in the present and one very firmly in the past, perhaps in a way that only a man who has run from himself can be.  Best of all, they do this in lovely continuity with the story and characters as we know them from the previous film.

The picture itself is beautiful, showcasing Bolivia's varied and rugged scenery and playing to a meditative score by Lucio Godoy, and the effect is mixed, both a classic Western adventure and a contemplation of a life nearing its twilight.  It's an effective combination, and I found myself caught up in the moment and considering the film for hours after I hit the eject button.  Blackthorn is a fine film.

Searching for Bobby Fischer

Joe Mantegna.  Joan Allen.  Ben Kingsley.  Lawrence Fishburne.  David Paymer.  William H. Macy.  Laura Linney.  Anthony Heald.  Dan Hedaya.  Austin Pendleton.  Tony Shalhoub.  Even if you don’t know anything else about it, this cast should be enough to get you to queue up Searching for Bobby Fischer.

Setting the cast aside for the moment, Searching for Bobby Fischer is a wonderful film, and one I revisit every few years.  In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t written about it before.  Bobby Fischer, as you may recall, was the greatest chess prodigy of his time.  He was (and is) also a deeply maladjusted man who went on to lead what appears to be a very unhappy life.  Josh Waitzkin, who is real, was a chess prodigy whose family spared him that fate.  This is their story, based on the book by his sportswriter father, Fred.

It’s a story about Josh, and the pull he feels among the various adults who try to mold him, to teach him, to love him, to push him.  More importantly at this stage in my life path, it’s about parenthood and helping your child grow into himself without forcing him to grow into you.  Fred (Mantegna, in the role that made me a lifetime fan), you see, is awestruck by his son’s talent.  He tells a teacher (Laura Linney, just starting out), “He’s better at this than I have ever been at anything in my life.  He’s better at this than you’ll ever be, at anything.”  Joan Allen, as Bonnie Waitzkin, fears for what her husband and the men he trusts might unwittingly do to her son.  And Josh (the fine Max Pomeranc, who has not gone on to pursue a career in acting) just wants to have fun, play chess, be a kid, and please his parents.

The film cuts to the secret heart of parenting, which is that nobody actually knows what they’re doing.  All we have are our own experiences of childhood, maybe some books we’ve read, and our instincts.  We as parents have our passions and our ambitions.  We can get carried away.  Sometimes, we can’t find the line between our children’s best interests and our own.  Fred blows right through it, and Bonnie, as a good partner must, reels him back.

The film works as a life lesson, but it also works as a simple narrative.  Josh seems real, as do the people in his life.  Josh's chess education and matches feel important and thrilling, even for those of us without a deep appreciation of the game.  The conflicts build from the characters, as opposed to being inflicted on them because good screenplays are supposed to have conflict. This is a compelling film, one that has me laughing, crying, and thrilling, as appropriate,on queue.

But back to the "life lesson" stuff: Searching for Bobby Fischer offers real wisdom, and it has taught me different lessons as I've moved along my life path.  I love this movie, and I look ford to discovering what it has to teach me when I'm a grandfather.

Goon

Goon is a funny, violent, vulgar, sweet, formulaic, and endearing film about a guy who finds his calling in punching other people in the mouth.

Seann William Scott plays Doug Glatt, not the sharpest arrow in the family quiver.  Dad's a doctor, Brother's a doctor, and Mother is disappointed in him.  He's athletic, he knows how to throw a punch, and he works as a bouncer.  It's honest work, sure, but nothing to brag about down at the synagogue.  Glatt is a fundamentally nice and decent guy, and there's no fulfillment in strong arming weaklings.

Everything changes when he attends a minor-league hockey game with his best friend (Jay Baruchel, the voice of Hiccup in the surprisingly good How to Train Your Dragon.  He wrote and directed this movie.) and finds himself standing up for his buddy when a heckled player climbs into the stands to throw a few punches.   Glatt knocks the guy out, attracts the attention of the home team's coach, and he's on his way.  Finally, he has the chance to be part of something, to work in an organization that values his talents, and to beat up worthy opponents.

From there, the film follows the structure of your basic sports story, complete with an on-ice showdown with the league’s reigning master enforcer (Liev Schreiber, proving yet again that a great actor in a small role can raise the game of an entire film.).  But that’s just the structure.  The joy in this film comes from the wickedly funny writing, the spot on delivery, and the real affection it shares for the damaged people of and around minor-league hockey.

I laughed all the way through Goon, and I was delighted to learn that there’s an actual Doug Glatt out there, busting heads as an officer with his local police department and, hopefully, banking his royalties from this film.  Goon was released to little fanfare, but it’s a winner.  Queue it up.