Opinions

"The Social Network"

writers: Aaron Sorkin (screenplay), Ben Mezrich (book)

director: David Fincher

“The Social Network" is a nicely packaged empty shell. Here, I said it. The film upon its first viewing left me at best indifferent - surely the craftsmanship was there: scenes were wonderfully put together, each layer of the film worked by itself, the DP knew how to light a scene, the director made sure there were not empty narrative spaces, the composer felt the drive, most technicians deserved Oscar nominations for their contribution, yet all together was ... well... lame. Trite.

I felt bad since everybody on the planet went bananas over the flick. So I decided to give it a second try. My reaction was the same. My cinema screening companion at first refused to comment, then she said something to the effect that “the film cleverly puts you in the brainless state of mind similar to that which results from hanging out for a while on the net”. An intelligent remark, yet still with a negative vector, I suppose.

My biggest beef with the film was that it seemed to cheapen something that I felt was profound and truly exciting - the hero and the story of his battles. Instead of showing wide and deep dimension of the amazing technological and cultural revolution the film distilled it down to the issue of who among the players was a bigger dickhead.

Call me naive but I refuse to believe that such great thing as Facebook could be achieved by a bozo. A very gifted, even inspired computer science maverick, yet still a bozo. So I looked at some videos of the real Mark Zuckerberg. Surprise, surprise. The film critics rave about the performance of Jessie Eisenberg. I am sorry but any given beat with the real Zuckerberg brings in more zest, light, focus and drive than the entire two hours of the film. The two hours which, granted, due to the superb skills of the filmmakers, fly very quickly. Still the screen rendering of Zuckerber felt inadequate and even offensive to the spirit of the real Zuckerberg. Judging by the material on the net, the film storytellers flattened the character of the hero, flattened his motives, flattened the plot, - all in a very glossy way. (McDonald De Luxe does not make a gourmet meal.)

I felt terrible, not understanding the enthusiasm pouring from film critics I valued and liked. Being on the edge of depression I goggled for “The Social Network negative reviews” and discovered Armond White, a major New York professional film critic. He didn't like the film. He even championed (causing wide ridicule) “Transformers 2” by Michael Bay, one of my favorite directors. “You may be thinking against the tide but you are not entirely alone.” - I prepped myself. Then I discovered that Mr. White considered my hero Gaspar Noe a fraud and a fake and that he trashed “There will be blood”, to me a true masterpiece.

I was alone again.

Harry Potter and the movies

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

writers: Steve Kloves, J.K. Rowling

director: David Yates

The audience was mostly full of twenty-something girls. All eagerly awaiting the screening. The opening shot - the extreme close up of the eyes was strong but also suspicious. Something about it was too much, too fast, too eager and too cheap. “Oh boy, somebody is going to treat me as if I was an idiot”, somebody sighed next to me. As the story was unfolding there were occasional giggles and some smart-ass remarks, yet all got quiet fast. The screen took charge over the hormones, the nervousness of energy, the tiredness and wiggling of the bodies. All of us became subjected to the shiny beets dangling in front of our eyes, moving “24 frames per second” (or whatever visual trick this posh digitally equipped movie theater offered). A few times the audience even laughed at a few lame jokes.

Additional and clearly unintentional laughs the audience awarded to some particularly clumsy staging. Those laughs spoke plenty: we go to the movies to be visually hypnotize, mesmerize and spellbound by succession of sounds and images. The faster, the slicker and the more intriguing the elements the better, however once the human behavior on screen rings false - we are merciless.

I was shocked by the lifelessness of the young characters. They mostly behaved (with the exception of Ron Weasly) as if totally surprised that they are not in a proper vampire movie or something. Somehow all the charm of the first installments of the series was gone. I understand that final confrontation with the evil Lord Vordemort is a serious matter but the movie wasted plenty of time for idle sitting around anyway.

After the screening the audience was borderline disappointed. “I wasn’t floored”, “It was OK, but I can’t wait for the second part”, “The book was better” - were mostly the comments I overheard. Afterwards I spoke to a ten year old, a huge fan of Harry Potter. When I said “but the film was so sad, wasn’t it”, his face for a second clouded - for this short moment he allowed the reality of the film to surface, but then it quickly passed. I suspect that for him the fun of the film was not in its execution but in the subject matter, in the young character of Harry Potter, in the wonderful initial world created by J.K. Rowling. Besides, what's the film's reality? Perhaps our yearnings that we bring into a movie theater are way more important than the skills with which stories flicker on the screen.

In "Deathly Hallows 1" shrewd marketing and our collective eagerness to carry on with magic, innocence and charm triumphed over quality. We can pretty sure envision the second part. It will be laud, fast, furious and victorious. In the human department it most likely is going to be so-so. (There is no reason to change anything or anybody since the formula brings in buckets of cash anyway.) And guess what? We are all going to be there. Glued to flickering images. With sweaty hands and glittering eyes. Gasping at the shinny screen.

Do we love Harry Potter series despite its steady turn to morose and grim, or because of it? Let’s hope the turn does not announce some upcoming collective shadow.

Technology and the human nature

"The game of death". Produced and written by Christophe Nick

Directed by Thomas Bornot, Gilles Amado, Alain-Michel Blanc

"The Singularity is near". Director: Anthony Waller

Interviews Directed by Toshi Hoo

Co-Directed and written by Ray Kurzweil

Watching movies back to back sometimes sharpens their otherwise single perception. Such was a case when after a shocking “The Game of Death” I saw “The Singularity is near”.

“The Game of Death” repeats a famed Stanley Milgram’s 1961 experiment. Milgram found out that 62% of his participants, mindlessly and heartlessly obeying authority, were inflicting cruelty to other humans. 60 years later, in a TV reality show medium, the percentage of the willing executioners rose to 81%. Watching this documentary made me sick in my stomach. It did not happen however because, as a The Huffington Post reviewer claimed, the doc was a gratuitous exploitation of the worst in television while pretending to critque it. It was not. Rather it was nauseating because it honestly, brutally and skillfully revealed a sad truth of our nature.

Locating itself on the other end of the spectrum, “The Singularity” addresses wonders of the upcoming merger of high-tech with human biology and the universe. In a few decades nanorobots will clean up our bodies and allow our minds to retain wast encyclopedic knowledge. Rocks and matter will turn into computing fields for more tech power. Wonderful. The only question is: will it make us better as human beings? Raymond Kurzweil, at least in his film, seems to be little concerned with the fact that we are failing as species, creating oceans of moral and social catastrophes and are completely unprepared for gifts that the splendid technological and biological revolution offers.

I have reservations not only with philosophical and sociological shortcomings of the way the future opportunities are presented in the film, but also with the crafting of the message. The narration is high on technological vision, which while clearly monumental, important and stimulating, is nevertheless presented in a too fast, too shallow and strangely outdated fashion. Granted, the heralded upcoming glory of nanotechnology, exponential technological growth and AI explosion is truly fantastic. Yet the film shows it in a cartoonish way, racing and obsessing over technological wonders with little or no concern with their humanistic implications or lack of them.

Red light goes up when front credits state that that Raymond "Ray" Kurzweil is a “co-director”. In addition one learns that the interviews were directed by a yet another person. Unfortunately what follows does not dispel concerns. The exchanges between Kurzweil and the experts look like created in the editing room with both interlocutors shot in different time and space. The film feels like a giant ego trip and a promotional vehicle for the otherwise brilliant and extremely accomplished guy. Overdoing his mundanely shot close ups and the abundance of the “me” factor don’t help the elegance and the impact of the message.

Somebody could say that it’s not fair to compare the conformists and cowards portrayed in “The Game of death” with some evolved individuals, including Mr. Kurzweil, who are trailblazing the glorious future for our planet. Yet until we learn compassion and cooperation the upcoming wonders of technology will only make most of us miserable.

“The Singularity” has narrative fun (pedestrian as far as the latest animation goes) following the case of a sexy AI female Ramona who, a few dozen years into the future, court battles for the recognition of her individual rights as a being equal to humans. (Allan Dershowitz makes a wonderful allay in her quest). It’s all fine and dandy. But how about setting the clock back to 2010 and trying to get 1/3 of humans deprived of proper education, food and shelter to become possessors of full human rights as well.

In a footnote: as a huge fan of Tony Robbins I protest against flat and borderline ridiculous use of his persona in this film.

Crisp, gripping and gloomy.

"The Ghost Writer" written by Robert Harris and Roman Polanski,
directed by Polanski

So does “The Ghost Writer” follow "Chinatown"?

Clearly the narrative technique has changed. The “camera talk” does not celebrate the events as much as it did when describing the ordeal of J.J. Gittes. The staging moves faster, is more compressed and more ... well nonchalant. This seemingly more casual approach again delivers the Chinatown truth about evil of the world. This time in an updated 21 Century way, mixing sophistication with in your face signals. The strong ones for example build the opening scene when the empty car on the prom is repeatedly “marked” by visual clues.

Polanski and Harris adapting the novel punch up the emotions every step of the way. The decision to move an empty car on the prom scene up front shows the problem instead of talking about it, which in the novel happens later. The ending of the film is a visual representation of the potentiality existing in the novel’s last paragraph. The entire final sequence of the film adds up to the character of the Ghost making him much more interesting. In short, the master storyteller when translating a novel into the screen makes the story and the hero stronger.

Is Polanski concerned with the things that jumped at me during the read? The verbalized reflections on the difference between the reality and its media representation achieved in the novel through the helicopter scene do not interest him at all. Yet, the bitter commentary about the difference between the reality and its media presence is telegraphed beautifully a scene later when Lang delivers a statement to the crowd of journalists. This short public persona of Lang when compared with his private presence speaks volumes about political truth. That’s clearly the way to address a serious “socio-psychological” issue if one has secured services of Pierce Brosnan.

Others do great work as well. Somebody wrote that in this flick Polanski and McGregor channel Kafka. Seems like a very perceptive comment.

Yes, a grumpy gardener from the "Chinatown" and the Harris novel has made it into the film. This time he appears with a new twist on his absurd work. With the exception of the final shot Polanski does not quote “Chinatown” directly. Instead he and Pawel Edelman spice up their visuals with comments on futility, madness and hopelessness that reign on this crazy planet of ours.

Because their work is so delicious I do not care that the novel-lifted plot is actually an outrageous (and I hope rather silly) Google advertisement. I guess within the “film noir” genre it has to be presented with a straight face, even though Harris himself calls his novel “satirical”. “The Ghost Writer” is still a great movie entertainment.

The filmmakers’ hell

"Drag Me to Hell", written by Sam and Ivan Raimi,
directed by Sam Raimi

In the filmmaker’s hell there are many rooms of various sizes, intensities and status. I have certainly assured myself a modest place in one of the least noticeable of them, but that’s not the subject of this entry.

This entry is concerned with Sam Raimi. I am afraid that with his “Drag me to hell” he might be possibly going there himself. That he would - very deservingly so - be treated there as a major celebrity would be to him a small consolation, I guess.

I suspect all filmmakers, after the screenings of their own lives run last frames, want to reside in some privileged sector of the afterlife, far removed from the unpleasantness of hell and the unbearable boredom of heaven (at least in its biblical version.) What would such “Filmmakers’ Hell” be is another story. Yes, this is a play on my “A Philosopher's Paradise,” which although liked by many (of the very few who actually saw it I must disclose in order not to end up in the wrong circle of hell), is one of the reasons I am definitely going to the filmmakers’ hell.

So why do I think Mr. Raimi might be heading the wrong way? Here are his possible sins:

A delicious Alison Lohman is 95% of the time on the screen and she is never seen naked. Not even a modest bathtub relaxing scene. Not a single change of blood soaked clothes, not a shower scene. That's a major transgression which by itself should assure any director of such a flick eternal hellfire.

If I were a cat or a goat appearing in this flick I would definitely sue. Not a single close up for any of them. A total lack of any character building there. (The argument that humans don't get that much either does not stand, animals in a horror flick are privileged). Here, the cat is too shyly dealt with, the goat's cool single action is thrown away. Only a fly gets some attention and perhaps some “personality development.” (Still not enough for me)

The loudness and the overall bravado of the film successfully hide its shortcomings. For example production design wise the office scenes (the bank and the boyfriend's campus office) are surprisingly devoid of verve. The absolutely captivating historical prologue sets such high expectations that the bank office scene that follows is a let down. Granted, to squeeze something interesting out of such a dull space is almost impossible, but that's Raimi directing. He is a great director, when he wants to be. The next scene in the parking garage proves it.

The script's flatness and predictability could be excused by the “B picture” ambition of the film, yet with such high directorial talent engaged this should have not happened.

Genova - moving forward

“Genova” directed by Michael Winterbottom,
written by Winterbottom and Laurence Coriat

Contrary to my “Metropolis” complains about the lack of narrative progress the field evolves and it happens fast.

For example “Genova” starring Colin Firth and great Catherine Keener, the film about "moving forward", which also moves forward the narrative craft. To me "Genova" effectively reworks “Three colors: Blue.” Strange that nobody mentions it. I hope I am not going nuts! Of course I do not know if Winterbottom consciously enters into the dialog with Kieślowski. Yet, even if directing this film is more instinctual and less cerebral, we the viewers are entitled to argue and point out such (possible) connections.

The first scene is the most obvious. A car crash in both films opens the story. In “Genova” the grieving wife from “Blue” is replaced by the grieving dad and two daughters. In what follows, thematic, sequential, psychological parallels to the Kieślowski masterpiece abound.

Stylistically both films are hugely different, which is as intriguing as it is encouraging. That’s why many directorial aspects of “Genova” (and “Blue”) are worth studying.

I will add “Genova” to the list of analyzed films during my upcoming seminars (“Blue” is already there.) You need to be a SWPS student to attend. Unless I return to offering independent workshops, which may happen. So stay tuned!

Metropolis

"Metropolis", 1927 directed by Fritz Lang,
written by Lang and Thea von Harbou

...

You cheats! You untalented and lazy bastards,

who elbowed your dull selves onto the silver screen

after 1927, the year “Metropolis” appeared,

you were not original whatsoever.

Nor did you offered anything significant or inspiring.

Instead were just rehashing the Lang's vision.

All those “milestone achievements” in film-making

in reality were just stolen. From Fritz.

Is it possible that most of the film history

has been hijacked by mediocrity?

That the warning tale of the tragic connection

between technology and the masses

fell upon deaf ears for almost a century?

That what appeared to be a sentimental message

of “reason and hand needing a heart to connect”

was in fact a true warning of the utmost importance?

Completely disregarded.

All the years following “Metropolis”

whether in film or politics

or in self awareness of the masses

proved the film’s call to be true.

Yet nobody has listened.

So we continue this terrifying “progress”

backward. Straight to our own doom.

Look around:

There is nothing to make a connection

between ideas and technology.

There are only dumb and easy swayed crowds.

Only bland and shallow stories.

Originating from bland and shallow minds.

Delivered to bland and shallow viewers.

Consumed by them in obnoxious and mindless stupor.

All heartless.

No change in sight.

Metropolis.

The melted screen

“Po-lin, Silvers of Memory”, by Jolanta Dylewska

This documentary (Po-lin in Hebrew - “You will rest here”, “A place of safe refuge”, “Poland”) consists mostly of home movies taken during the 30s by American Jews visiting their home villages and towns in Poland. Something happened during its screening:

The melted screen

The screen has melted

the borders between the past and the now have disappeared

and the space have became one.

You wake up and for a while

do not know what’s more real:

the events in this very moment

or those that have been so real just seconds ago,

and are still lingering in your mind,

afterimages of the soul, hints of the real, keys to the mystery

disappearing with your every conscious blink,

every move, every breath.

Who are you?

the dreamer or the dreamed?

The remembered or the rememberer?

An image on the screen of your mind

or your mind that watches it?

Do you live now

or perhaps in a shtetl

somewhere in Poland of 1932

and have been catapulted into the future

by a wise rabbi

or some strange person with

an even stranger machine

(cinematograph it is called)

to skip the horrors,

to see that the healing

can be achieved after all,

that dead and living

can coexist in the present?

United and peaceful.

Afterwards you

(returned to the now or just visiting from the past)

find yourself sitting still,

enveloped in wonder.

Rested and safe?

In Po-lin?

“Elegy” - another kind of fear?

“Elegy” from a Philip Roth novel,
with Penelope Cruz, Ben Kingsley,
directed by Isabel Coixet.

Plot spoiler - subjective comments - literary cognoscenti stay out!

When thinking about this movie I am torn between its public reception, the critical reaction and my own experience.

For months I kept hearing about the film. Either directly from mostly women who had seen it already or overhearing other women talking among themselves with excitement about the “age difference affair.” Apparently an older guy (played by a famous actor) sleeping on screen with a much younger woman (played by a sexy movie star) struck a nerve. Then I went to see the flick. Walking away I eavesdropped and sure enough most of the comments related again to “the age thing.”

Than I read reviews. The majority of them complain about sanitizing the primal, raw sex Philip Roth novella “The Dying Animal”. All analyze the performance of the two protagonists. (Either raving or critiquing their performances mostly by comparing it to their previous achievements) All of that wisely, insightfully and convincingly presented, yet none of the above provided an explanation why this movie simply floored me.

Not having read the Roth's novella and not crazy about the stars (except Dennis Hopper who steals the show with the liveliest moment when he is ... dying) I just followed the story. It is a simple one. An affair is born and after a year comes to the end when the guy refuses to finally meet her family. Hurt, she leaves. The hero suffers. Then his best friend “departs”. The girl appears only to announce that she’s got breast cancer and that he was “the one.” Handkerchief please.

The question is why didn’t David Kepesh, the hero, go to the party given by his wonderful lover and in doing so didn’t announce himself socially to her circle is the crucial one. Most, including Ben Kinglsey, talk about the fear of commitment. The actor says that he had boiled down his role to a few sentences: “‘Once upon a time there was a man who couldn’t commit. He committed, and the thing he committed to died.’ Kignsely says he has carried this idea thorough the film.

I am suspicious of such interpretation. The Kingsley character seems cynical and manipulative enough to endure no matter how awkward an afternoon to keep an exciting affair going.

What if Kepesh doesn’t go to the party because he’s frozen by another kind of fear? Not the fear or commitment but the fear of death. What if the film is not a “soap opera” type of a story about the age difference in bed, but rather a howl of “a dying animal”? What if the most important element in this film (like in most) is its proper sequencing of strong events?

It is indeed a rare skill to time events properly. When done with enough power it can’t be overshadowed much even by possible inadequacies of film makers. Banal, you will say. Yes, just like death I will respond.

Those who truly know the answer to the deceptively simply question "what makes a sequence of events powerful?" live in Malibu. OK, in NYC. OK anywhere but well because their skill is so precious. So my hat goes down to Nicholas Meyer - the script writer and primarily to he who came up with the story - Philip Roth - “The Dying Animal” novella author.

Obsession destroys - von Sternberg's style.

Emil Jannings and Marlene Dietrich in “Blue Angel”

How could I have missed this one in film school! “Blue Angel” is the first major German sound film and already a great one. Made in 1929, it still is fresh and powerful on a large screen. It is a solid storytelling, based on a novel by Heinrich Mann, directed by Joseph von Sternberg.

Sternberg was quite a character - always moving, never repeating himself, audacious, confrontational type. He did his own cinematography and editing. He added “von” (together with mustache, stern walking and intimidating speech pattern) to strengthen his image. Lars Trier repeated the “von” maneuver. It worked! (From now on, you know how to address me, don’t you?)

“Blue Angel” is perhaps about a furious power of obsession/love. Love as the force for itself and by itself with disregard to the outside world. Interestingly, von Sterberg in a different, political context said - “reality failed to interest me," and “I do not care about a story, all I care is about how it is photographed and presented.” We could reword “presented” as “performed by a storyteller.” Lola Lola, played by Dietrich, is also driven by the need to perform. The story and the storyteller say that true passions, obsessions, desires are oblivious to anything external. Be it love or art or a need to tell a story - the desire is always the goal for itself. In case of a story with emphasis on “to tell” not on a “story.” What happens to those driven by “a story” and not by “to tell”? I suspect they don’t make it. “How” is more important than “what.” That could be a Joseph von Sternberg’s directing lesson.

The film is also a book case scenario for a technique to show a psychological process. “Blue Angel” creates a field for the main character's psychology by selecting a dramatically different start and end points of his journey. Everything in between the point of departure (normal, safe life) and arrival (death due to obsession), is filled with stages in a journey to self-defeat. The narrative does not dwell on how the character changed from one stage to another. There is not much “psychological transitions” there. Von Sternberg shows subsequent stages “in jumps.” Thanks to that, our imagination is active.

Von Sternberg directs by paying attention, giving scenes time to develop, always being mindful of context. For example the Blue Angel back stage sequences are told with a wonderful devise - every time the door opens - the outside music and noise burst in. It creates a hypnotic and humorous rhythm.

The pacing looks surprisingly contemporary. A hefty dose of humor in the first part only sets up drama in the second. Aside from a bit of overacting from the professor (a leftover from a very recent silent films) no false notes are on the screen. And of course Dietrich is already almost a Goddess. Clean, steady compositions, sometimes baroque, often expressionistic focus the attention of the viewer.

An early quote “To be or not to be” - sets up the second theme: can we be different than who we already are? Does the film warn against leaving your post? Life is brutal. Everybody is out for themselves. People do not connect. Even if they do, as Lola have done with the professor (out of pity? calculation? fun?), they revert to their own obsessions. Everybody follows their own bliss. The strong ones manage it well. The weak ones are doomed. Hence the story of professor Immanuel. Is the name significant? When Germans make a story about an intellectual and name him Immanuel, can they not think of a certain philosopher?

Because of some emotional and visual commonalities, I suspect Bergman and Kurosawa studied this film carefully.

Metaphysics taco short of a combination plate.

Antichrist, by Lars von Trier

Aside the appreciation of the technical skills (I wish I had von Trier’s command of the craft) I didn’t like the film. For the first part it kept me cold and bored, during its second part I was sucked into it, but ultimately confusion won over.

I had a feeling that the narrator was saying “I am so freaking talented” (he is) that even without making much sense I can play with you and you’ll eat it up. Some folks apparently do.

The “nature’s evil nature” is an interesting concept, worthy of either a serious screen treatment or an ass-kicking entertainment. This film delivers neither. Theological pretentious abound. Visual references to Tarkowsky are promising but stay just that - some potential directions never explored, instead pushed over by hysterics. There were laughs in the movie theater, and I doubt they were intended. I have to admit that the way the film articulates one of its main thoughts - “Chaos rules” - is really funny. Yet, it seems to try to be a dark turning point and not a comic relief.

Tarkowsky was serious and treated his viewers with respect. Trier giggles, switches styles, drops ideas, races madly where the Great Russian would take his time and explore. I realize that comparing those two is not right (even though von Triers invites it by dedicating the film to Tarkowsky). “The mirror” and “Stalker” are uncompromising mediations, while “Antichrist” feels like a quick job to make money. Such talent like Trier's is clearly capable to enter a serious dialogue with Tarkowsky and still make a popular film. Pity he just got high on “look Ma, I’m directing” part.