"True Grit" (2010)

Dwight Dekeyser rating:  AAA

Dear Friend,

I didn’t intend to see this movie.  The movies I wanted to see would not accommodate my schedule.  Besides, I am not a big Western fan.  We all know the plot: the black hats ride into town looking for trouble, swing open the saloon doors, do shots of whiskey, cheat at poker, make passes at the saloon girls, argue with the white hats, and die in a shoot out with the sheriff.  Sound like a movie or a T.V. show you’ve seen a hundred times?  I have enjoyed some Westerns: Westward the Women (1951), High Noon (1952), Cat Ballou (1965), and Heartland (1979).  And who could forget The Harvey Girls (1946)?  (So, it was an MGM musical starring Judy Garland!)

The macho swagger and tough talk of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, and their ilk never appealed to me.  It’s just not my style.  (I bet Ronald Coleman, George Saunders, and James Mason would have felt right at home in a pair of chaps.  It’s the all the dust they couldn’t have handled.)  In any case, my expectations were not high for this remake of the ultimate John Wayne movie, True Grit (1969).  I never saw the original for which Wayne received a Golden Globe Award and an Academy Award for best actor.  (So, he wore an eye patch.  Who cares?  It was a John Wayne movie.)

Nonetheless, I was completely won over by this movie.  It was not a perfect production by any means.  It was that I found myself completely engrossed with the story and the characters.  I found myself really caring about these three unlikely comrades as they set out on an incredible adventure in the pursuit of justice.  In this sense it was a very American story.  Yes, it was the old story line of the white hats versus the black hats.  It’s just that the hats were all checkered in different patterns.  The characters were complex and the plot was intricate.  Cooperation won-out over personal conflicts as their character and guile triumphed over incredible adversity to avenge injustice and defy death.  It was inspiring to see the extent to which each person risked their life in an effort to rescue the other.   It was an heroic story beautifully told. 

What I liked about the movie was the use of character actors, obscure performers who portrayed a particular type of person: the business man, the undertaker, the hotel keeper, the town drunk.  During the days of the Hollywood studio people made entire careers out of these roles.  Actors like Gabby Hayes, Jack Elam, Andy Devine, and Marjorie Main were essential ingredients to any Western as much as any leading gunslinger or bad ass bronco.   They added local color and comic relief to the picture and made the main characters look good in comparison.  Their eccentric personalities and peculiar appearances added an authenticity to casts lead by tightly controlled actors mumbling sparse dialogue. “Don’t say it’s a fine morning or I’ll shoot ya.” McLintock (1963).  (Thanks for the warning, Duke!)

The story centers around young Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld), who set out to hire the meanest marshal or bounty hunter to capture her father’s killer – someone with true grit.  As much as I liked the movie, I did have problems with this character.  I thought the part was too mature for a fourteen-year-old.  No teenager knows that much about business, contracts, negotiation, and criminal law as expounded upon by this crackerjack kid.  Yes, this made her an exception little girl, but I found myself having to suspend my sense of reality to entertain the plausibility of this uber-precocious young lady.  The fact that she was self-confident, determined, and canny I was ready to concede.  However, I found her business acumen and her keen legal analysis hard to believe for a fourteen-year-old girl from Arkansas, c. 1867.

Second, I thought Steinfeld’s portrayal of Mattie Ross was too stiff.  There was almost something British about her delivery.  It was like watching Anne of Green Gables (1985) with Megan Follows or even Glenda Jackson in Elizabeth R (1971).  Steinfeld’s Mattie Ross made haughty pronouncements with enunciation and intelligence as if she were in a Shakespearian production.  There was nothing country in the way she spoke.  I know she was a city girl, but we’re talking Little Rock here.  In a perfect world, I would have liked to have seen little Addie Loggins (Tatum O’Neal) from Paper Moon (1973) in the role.  (They grow up so fast, don’t they?)  I also would have liked to have cast her father Ryan O’Neal as LeBoeuf.  As much as I wanted to like Matt Damon, I was a little disappointed.  He looked the part.  (He looked like Ryan O’Neal.)  But, I found his performance a little too refined for a Texas marshal.

That clearly was not Jeff Bridges’s problem.  His portrayal of Rooster Cogburn was truly extraordinary.  His performance put him in the same league as the greatest living actors: Robert Duvall, Robert De Niro, Mickey Rooney, Ernest Borgnine, (fill in your favorite).  His performance transcended acting in the way great actors are able – it was being.  Maybe a little rubbed off from his father the late Lloyd Bridges, the deputy marshal in High Noon.  His brother actor Beau Bridges claims Jeff is a perfectionist who likes to do a lot of takes in order to exhaust every possibility before ending a scene.  His approach appears to have worked because his performance was perfection.

Here's the trailer: http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi1984862489/

From the vault:  Paper Moon (1973), directed by Peter Bogdanovich, starring Ryan O’Neal, Tatum O’Neal, and Madeline Kahn.  It’s not a Western, but they were desperadoes during the Great Depression (as opposed to this one).  It is a great American classic.   Why is it orphans seem to have all the fun, “Are you pushing?!” 

Best of luck in your movie selections.  Your faithful friend,

Dwight Dekeyser

© 2011 Dwight Dekeyser, Esq.  All rights reserved.

"Somewhere" (2010)

Dwight Dekeyser rating:  CCC

Dear Friend,

This wasn’t a bad movie – for a student.  It was more like a pleasant drive through the Hollywood Hills with a brief sojourn to Italy to receive an award for being fabulous.   You know how hard it is to be a movie star, after awhile one becomes blasé.  The parties, the sex, the drugs, the drinking – surely there must be more to life than unlimited adulation and compensation in the land of golden dreams.  Not according to industry insider Sofia Coppola the writer and director of this uninspired commentary on contemporary Hollywood from whom, I must say, I expected more.   Instead of making any original editorial or provocative documentary, Coppola gave us a rather uninteresting look at the private life of a popular film star Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff).  You think your life is meaningless?  Try being a healthy handsome movie star, at the top of the heap with the world at your feet, according to Coppola.   

Sofia Coppola, as we all know, is the daughter of Francis Ford Coppola, niece of Talia Shire, cousin of Nicolas Cage, and the relative of a virtual film studio of industry professionals.  She appeared in her first movie as a sleeping infant in The Godfather (1972), her best performance; as an open-mouthed child extra abord the “Moshulu” in The Godfather: Part II (1974), usually edited out; and as an adult actress in The Godfather: Part III (1990), universally panned.  She also had a brief career as a teen model (hands and feet?) and on television.   Weary of the rotten tomatoes and raw eggs cast in her direction, she retired from acting and turned to directing (as you would).  Her four previous movies were Lick the Star (1998), The Virgin Suicides (1999), Lost in Translation (2003) for which she won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, and Marie Antoinette (2006).   That’s quite a resume for someone not quite forty.

Nepotism aside, this woman is Hollywood royalty, someone born to the celluloid.  Think of the stories she must have heard from the cradle!  (She was baptized in The Godfather.)  Think of the celebrities she’s met and the palaces she’s seen!  She’s got to know where all the bodies are buried.  Unfortunately, this movie was not the industry indictment or the torrid tale I so eagerly anticipated.  No, the Hollywood community may rest safely – this semi-autobiographic movie was no Answered Prayers (1987).  It appears it was all a bore.  Poor Sofia, how she must have suffered!

I suppose my disappointment comes from the expectation of seeing a movie about Hollywood.  There have been some excellent ones, A Star is Born (1937, 1954, 1976), Singing in the Rain (1952), Sunset Boulevard (1950), The Day of the Locusts (1975), Mommie Dearest (1981).  You know, a story with some depravity to it.   The closest this movie got to depravity was identical twin pole dancers performing synchronized routines at the Chateau Marmont.  We were treated to two separate scenes of this slice of Sodom.  Unfortunately, the gag was lost in the timing of these private performances – the scenes simply went too long (for my taste).  Real time is not always real interesting.

The other problem in this film of entertainment industry ennui was the lack of characters.  There were really only two main characters Johnny Marco and his eleven-year-old daughter Cleo (Elle Fanning).  The rest of the cast were either servants, employees, handlers, fans, hangers-on, star “gazers,” or anonymous females brandishing their breasts all in an attempt to curry favor with the star who was bored with it all.  Stephen Dorff convincingly played the macho male star the way most men attempt to portray themselves: stoic, blunt, rough around the edges, and above all “cool.”  Johnny Marco was not interesting in any way, most depressed people are not.  When he was not drinking and seducing women, he was playing video games with his daughter or chain smoking.   The storied Chateau Marmont where much of film took place was portrayed as a faded fraternity house.  Considering all the Hollywood history that has taken place within those walls, I am surprised the hotel was not better utilized than a common set.  (John Belushi is said to haunt bungalow #3 by the pool.) 

Elle Fanning was a delightful discovery.  This enchanting twelve year old has it all.  She can skate, swim, and dance with equal grace.  She can even act without dialogue, her eyes do all the talking.  This girl could be a big star.  She reminds me of when I first saw Mariel Hemingway in Lipstick (1976), precocious without being precious.   (She can even make Eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce and chives.)  The only thing that made me a little uncomfortable was the scenes of Cleo and her father engaging in (wholesome) activity much as a romantic couple might.  She was very mature for her age.  That being said, along with Roman Polanski and Woody Allen, I am all for wholesome entertainment.  Aren’t we all?

Here is the trailer: http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi2394490393/

From the vault: Mommie Dearest (1981), directed by Frank Perry, starring Faye Dunaway, Diana Scarwid, Steve Forrest, and Mara Hobel.  Speaking of “Hollywood royalty!  Christina, bring me the ax!”  This is probably the most quoted film in motion picture history.  It was intended to be a Tinseltown tell-all but was generally received as a black comedy.  Who knew child abuse could be so amusing?

Best of luck in your movie selections.  Your faithful friend,

Dwight Dekeyser

© 2011 Dwight Dekeyser, Esq.  All rights reserved.

"Tron: Legacy" (2010)

Dwight Dekeyser rating: DDD

Dear Friend,

Disney owes me.  I want my $13.00 dollars and 125 minutes back for a movie that should have been entitled, Tron: Marathon.  Little did I realize when I saw this 3-D picture, that I would be giving it a triple-D rating, as in Disappointing Disney Disaster.  I cannot recall being so bored watching a motion picture.  The special effects were “special” for the first fifteen minutes, about the average length of a fireworks display with the same inherent predictability and monotony.   The inertia of this action picture was oppressive.  Unfortunately, there were 110 more minutes to endure of endless explosions interspersed with occasional dialogue so deadly dull, a silent movie in the vein of the futuristic Metropolis (1927), would have been preferable.  Had silent movie star Norma Desmond appeared in this picture she might have said, “We didn’t need dialogue then, we had special effects.”

Was this film written during a writers’ strike?  You tell me.  Here is the plot.  A father disappears into a netherworld of video games.  In an attempt to find his father, the son accidentally falls into a virtual rabbit hole only to find himself a gladiator in a coliseum in a frantic Frisbee fight.   The son fights in one competition after the other until the film ends in (you’ll never guess) an explosion.  He gets the female-unit and rides off on a motorcycle into the sunlight, which she has never seen.  If you were to cast Bruce Lee in Alice in Wonderland Meets Spartacus in Space, you would have some idea as to the caliber of this picture.  This is a macho movie for macho adolescent boys.  My favorite lines (and there weren’t many): father to son, “You’re messin’ with my Zen thing.”  And, “What happened?  Bio-digital jazz Clu happened.”  Yeah, there was plenty of heavy-osity in this movie.

Tron: Legacy is a sequel to the cult classic Tron (1982), written and directed by Steven Lisberger.   This review echoes many of the criticisms of that movie with its negligible plot, shallow characters, and extravagant specials effects.   However, the film did gross $33 million. (Why mess with success?  This is show business, after all.)  Tron: Legacy was directed by Joseph Kosinski and had six (count them six) writers, including Lisberger.  Perhaps if they had six film editors, this movie would not have been such a test of audience endurance.  This was clearly a case of too many cooks in the kitchen spoiling the broth or this case re-hash.  The recipe for any story is quite basic: plot, characters, and dialogue for starters.  The quality of your final product can only be as good as your ingredients.  Costumes, sets, and computer graphics can add flavor but they can never be the substance of a viable theatrical production.  In this movie the mise-en-scene completely overwhelmed whatever drama there might have been.  This is the difference between theater and art museums.

This movie was a science fiction demolition derby with a story as compelling as a professional wrestling match.  It didn’t need to be Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots (Marx, 1964).  For heavens sake, we had characters in this movie who could speak to one another.  That is the basis for a universe of ideas and situations.  There have been science fiction movies with action and meaning.   Forbidden Planet (1956) was based on Shakespeare’s The Tempest (1610-11).  In The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), the alien Klaatu’s resurrection and unlimited power was a metaphor for Christ’s.  There was an attempt in Tron: Legacy to portray Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) as “the Creator” (of the digital game) in Cecil B. DeMille majesty, but I found it superficial.  There was also an Archangel Michael versus the devil struggle theme, but frankly I didn’t care.  (It was a fight over software, anyway).  All I knew was I had to wait for both of them to explode before the theater lights would be turned on.  At the end, when I heard Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund) yell, “It’s over!”  I knew he was talking about the picture.

Here’s the trailer:  http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi4134312217/

From the vault:  The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), directed by Robert Wise; staring Patricia Neal, Michael Rennie, and Sam Jaffe.  Patricia Neal didn’t want to make this film because she was afraid it going to be a turkey.  (You try saying, “Gort!  Klaatu baranda nikto!” with a straight face.)  Even Aunt Bee is in the picture so you know it has to be scary, “Oh, Andy!”

Best of luck in your movie selections.  Your faithful friend,

Dwight Dekeyser

© 2011 Dwight Dekeyser, Esq.  All rights reserved. 

 

"Casino Jack" (2010)

Dwight Dekeyser rating:  BAB

Dear Friend:

This is a whale of a story – in more ways than one.  A “whale” is casino slang for a gambler who can afford to gamble (i.e., lose) millions of dollars in a single throw of the dice.  To reach this level of play one must have skill, guts, brains, and more luck than common sense working for you.  It also helps to be slightly insane.  This would be a good description of Jack Abramoff, the former super lobbyist and convicted felon.  “Super lobbyist” sounds so much nicer than “racketeer” or “organized crime associate” but that it what this one is commonly called.  “Casino” is a nice word too; it means “club” in Spanish.  In English it implies gambling, and as we have all been taught, gambling is a vice.  And to whom do we look to supply our vices (e.g., money, drugs, prostitutes, bootleg whiskey)?  Why, our associates in organized crime, or course – some one like Jack Abramoff, conservative Republican activist, observant Jew, and super lobbyist.  That is, if you have the millions for him to gamble (i.e., steal) to provide you with Congressional “influence.”  Sound like a license to bribe?  It is.  The Supreme Court would call it “free speech” but I am not here to espouse a polemic.  This is a movie review, after all. 

2010 was a BIG year for our Jack, if you believe “there is no such thing as bad publicity,” to quote Brendan Behan.  Talk about a hot property – he had not one but two films released about him: a documentary I have not seen called Casino Jack and the United States of Money (2010), directed by Alex Gibney, and Casino Jack, directed by the late George Hickenlooper, staring Kevin Spacey, Barry Pepper, and Jon Lovitz.  He went from being a felon to a legend before his work release was over.  Now, Abramoff is more than a shamed shellfish – he is Moby Dick (1851) and The Great Gatsby (1925)!  He is the Bugsy Seigal who lived to count his chips.  (They share the same birthday, February 28!)  Even Meyer Lansky would have been impressed  -- he may have conquered Havana (until Fidel), but Abramoff took Washington.   To top it off, as of December he no longer resides at a halfway house in Baltimore and quit working at Tov Pizza, a Kosher pizzeria in the city.  The owner Ron Rosenbluth is a mench who has a history of giving employment to others “caught up in the legal system” to give them a “second chance” and to get people “on their feet again.”  (Abramoff was his first super lobbyist, bless his heart.) 

This is a movie with a lot of story to tell.  It could easily have been turned into a serial (and probably will) there are so many angles and subplots.  The filmmakers did a good job of supplying the cogent facts, events, and characters without sacrificing the history or overwhelming the viewer with too much information.  A quick internet search on Abramoff would be an advisable preparation for a more complete background on the subject.  While a little refresher course on the scandal is not required, it could reinforce the scenes as they transpire in rapid succession.  These were people on the go and, boy, did they get there.  Abramoff and his cohort Michael Scanlon were men in a hurry who dreamt big.  Abramoff’s father worked for Arnold Palmer Enterprises (lots of golf in this picture) and became president of the Franchises Unit of the Diners Club, which was owned by Alfred Bloomingdale, a member of Ronald Reagan’s “kitchen cabinet.”  Jack went to Beverly Hills High (didn’t we all?) and later became Chairman of the College Republican National Committee while attending Brandeis University.  Scanlon was an aide to Majority Leader Tom DeLay.  Want to be a super lobbyist?  Have super contacts.  (I am reminded of Mrs. Hurst’s appraisal of the Bennet family in Pride and Prejudice 1813, “such low connections.”)

Well, there was no pride but plenty of prejudice in this movie.  Atlantic City-born Abramoff had gambling in his blood and convinced a Native American tribe they needed his influence in Congress to prevent federal taxation of casinos located on Indian reservations.  He succeeded for a signing fee of a cool million and a little help from his friend Tom DeLay.  He continued to bill the tribe for work not done for several more million until it was financially ruined.  He had no trouble accepting 6.7 million from the government of the Commonwealth of the Mariana Islands to exempt them from U.S. labor and minimum wage laws.  The only minority he appeared to have helped were the Israelis for whom he illegally supplied night-vision glasses from Russia.   

Cannily, Abramoff was able to forge alliances with such Christian conservative operators as Ralph Reed under the guise of being “men of God” who appeared to believe that “capitalism” (i.e., bribes, lies, theft, and corruption of public officials) was the surest route to heaven and reelection.  Their sanctimonious Bible study, prayers groups, sermonizing, and demonization of others gave them all the divine inspiration they needed to justify their criminal behavior at the expense of the American public.  Surely, no one would question the work of the Lord.  Abramoff was fond of quoting movies, in particular The Godfather: Part II (1974).  He would imitate a deadpan Michael Corleone in a meeting with a senator in his home office in Reno.  When the senator demanded a cut of the Las Vegas casino profits, Corleone responded, “Senator, you can have my answer now, if you like.  My offer is this: nothing.”  A more enlightened Abramoff might have quoted an earlier line from the same scene, “Senator, we are all part of the same hypocrisy.”

Here’s the trailer:  http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi402888985/

From the vault:  The Godfather: Part II (1974), directed by Francis Ford Coppola; staring Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro, Robert Duvall, and Diane Keaton.  I just love the scenes of pre-Castro Havana and then the Revolution!  In a conversation with Lee Strasberg, Meyer Lansky once told him that Strasberg, “could have made him (Hyman Roth) a little nicer.”  In this context, Abramoff comes off quite “nice.”

Best of luck in your movie selections.  Your faithful friend,

Dwight Dekeyser

© 2011 Dwight Dekeyser, Esq.  All rights reserved.