SHORT AND SNAPPY FILM REVIEWS:
VERY LONG / DAGGERS / ASSASSINATION / SEA / MERCHANT
By Joel Johnson
My wife has an amusing penchant for putting together titles on a marquee to
create terrific titles of movies yet to be made. I’ve made a stab at this
with the film subjects of my reviews: A Very Long Engagement, The House
of Flying Daggers, The Assassination of Richard Nixon, The Sea Inside,
and William Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.
A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT
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Jean-Pierre Jeunet and coscreenwriter Guillaume Laurant’s film adaptation of
Sébastian Japrisot’s World War I novel presents both rich rewards and stiff
challenges to the audience. The book’s convoluted plot is preserved in the
movie. The central event in the film occurs when Mathilde’s (Audrey Tautou)
fiancé and four fellow French soldiers, accused of self-mutilation to avoid
further frontline service, are put unarmed into No-Man’s Land to be finished
off by the Germans. (This is similar to the biblical story of King David
ordering Bathsheba’s husband Uriah to be exposed to the enemy so he will be
killed.) The official notification of her fiancé’s death is sent to Mathilde.
But she does not accept it, feeling that she would intuitively know if he
had died. She conducts her own investigation. Mathilde will learn that
dozens of characters are involved in and affected by the incident as she, a
private investigator she hires, and some other interested parties follow its
disparate threads. While Mathilde’s 1920s investigation is conveyed in a
linear narrative, the overall story’s different perspectives are not linear,
forcing the audience to integrate different times and places significant for
the many secondary characters. It adds to the confusion that several
characters look similar—especially in uniform with mustaches. Then when seen
in a different time frame, the characters may have drastically changed
appearance. Faced with reading subtitles and pulling together the far-flung
story elements, the last thing the filmgoer may want is director Jeunet’s
trademark affinity for quirky characters and otherworldly visuals. Some
movies invite the audience into the action because the audience can so
easily relate to the film’s reality. Jeunet creates worlds that keep the
audience at arm’s length, observing the quirky not-quite-real action but
definitely not feeling that they can join in. I had read Japrisot’s novel,
but the twelve years or so since then had eroded any help that could have
provided in keeping the complicated story straight. Fatigue—only some
attributable to the strain of deciphering the complicated plot—further
undermined my understanding of the film during my first viewing of the film.
It took a second screening for a more rested me to really appreciate A
Very Long Engagement. The story has an epic—almost biblical—feel. At
heart, it is about perseverance in seeking the truth and boundless hope—not
accepting that a cause is lost just because people say it is. Mathilde is
reminiscent of the biblical references to the shepherd who never gives up on
returning the lost sheep to the flock. I saw the film the same weekend that
I saw Million Dollar Baby. The juxtaposition of Mathilde’s approach
to a seemingly impossibly grim situation starkly contrasts with Maggie
Fitzgerald’s reaction in Million Dollar Baby. Mathilde’s disability
(limp due to polio) is not allowed to slow her down even though she is not
above taking advantage of how people perceive disabled people. It also makes
a case that forgiveness succeeds where vengeance creates its own sad
denouement. The acting is first-rate by a large talented cast (including
Jodie Foster) but tends to be overshadowed by the visual artistry (including
Oscar-nominated cinematography by Bruno Delbonnel) and quirkiness.
Amelie’s Audrey Tautou is once again loved by the camera and easily
keeps the audience’s attention. After my first screening of A Very Long
Engagement, I was confused, and the confusion did not seem limited to
fatigued filmgoers like me who struggled to stay awake. After watching the
film a second time, I find it to be a great film that compellingly indicts
the folly of war and sanctifies love and hope.
HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS
I generally don’t get too excited by martial arts films, but Zhang Yimou’s
brilliant, colorful martial arts romance was a treat. The story is based on
events in Chinese history during the Tang dynasty in what would correspond
to 859 A.D. A rebel force—the House of Flying Daggers—threatens the rule of
the Tangs, even though the leader of the Flying Daggers has been killed.
Soldiers Leo (Andy Lau) and Jin (Takeshi Kineshiro), loyal to the Tang
emperor, need to arrest the rebels, who it is feared have gone underground
to continue their insurgency. They have a tip that the rebels are using a
brothel called the Peony Pavilion. The entertainment there features a
beautiful blind dancer named Mei (Zhang Ziyi), who is suspected of being the
daughter of the dead leader. She is arrested but not before she performs an
incredible dance sequence. The pixie of a dancer with the heart of a warrior
soon becomes the focal point of a love triangle. Her two admirers start on
the same side. Leo hatches a plan in which Jin will pose as a House of
Flying Daggers sympathizer and, in the guise of a rescue, help Mei escape
only to let her lead them to the House of Flying Daggers’ headquarters.
Reluctantly, Jin takes on the dangerous assignment, with Leo shadowing them
from a distance. Jin’s reticence to undertake the undercover role works to
make him seem less eager to infiltrate the House of Flying Daggers. Through
a series of fabulous adventures—including a visually magnificent sequence of
soldiers diving down trees and, of course, a number of spectacular flying
daggers—Jin wins Mei’s trust. Leo’s plan seems to be a runaway success, but
all is not what it seems. Zhang Yimou’s visual eye is as impressive as ever,
with amazingly beautiful cinematography, breathtaking colors, and
astonishing choreography. While the film doesn’t stint on the action, at
heart it is a melodramatic potboiler. Cast and crew milk every bit of
entertainment value out of their 111 minute film and have the good sense to
wrap it all up at the very moment when it starts to seem too long.
THE ASSASSINATION OF RICHARD NIXON
A year after his Academy Award-winning Best Actor performance in Mystic
River, Sean Penn delivers an arguably better performance in the
little-seen gem The Assassination of Richard Nixon. Even those of you
who loudly pooh-poohed the value of learning history are probably thinking,
“What assassination of Richard Nixon? Nixon wasn’t assassinated. He resigned
because of an impending impeachment due to the Watergate scandal. It was his
successor Jerry Ford who kept having people try to kill him.” However, there
was a plot to assassinate President Nixon by crashing an airliner into the
White House. The scheme unraveled well before the President or any National
Landmarks were in serious jeopardy. If you aren’t fully versed in the
details of this assassination attempt, you are not alone. The recent 9/11
Commission hearings made it clear that few in our government conceived of an
airliner being used as such a destructive and deadly weapon. The author of
this grand scheme might be described as a mastermind, but that is not the
impression you will have after seeing Sean Penn’s portrayal of Sam Bicke—a
character based on the real would-be assassin. Penn delivers a mesmerizing
performance that made me fully appreciate and sympathize with Sam Bicke’s
basic decency and yet fully understand how ill- suited he was to the world
in which he lived. Penn’s Bicke makes a series of wrong-headed
life-decisions about his marriage, his children, his family, his work, and
business opportunities, culminating with his quixotic attempt to eliminate
President Nixon. You will understand why the decisions Bicke makes will not
result in what he ultimately wants and also know that each decision is an
inextricable result of the worldview of Penn’s character. The capacity to
make this horribly flawed character sympathetic is the hallmark of great
acting. However, it also illustrates the ethos of the time. The baby boomer
youth of America was encountering the disconnect between the mythology of
American fairness, decency, and opportunity and the harsh American realities
of the Vietnam War, racial oppression, and greed. The reality of America
failing to live up to its ideals was exposed. The young are always most
disturbed by the appearance of moral failure. America’s disenchanted youth
of this period have grown up to become part of the establishment they may
have then openly reviled. Bicke was a man on the cusp of middle age, and yet
his view of the moral universe continued to closely resemble a teen’s. There
are issues to think about as we experience a cultural echo of the time
depicted in the film, but this is a tragic personal story. It is painful and
unnerving to see the story of this ordinary man unfold, knowing that each
step moves closer to disaster. The filmmakers have done a creditable job in
recreating the early 1970s and, not only that, but the early 1970s as it was
lived by ordinary people. This is an impressive directorial debut for
screenwriter Nils Mueller, who had previously written Tadpole. Fine
supporting work is provided by Don Cheadle, Naomi Watts, Jack Thompson, and
Michael Wincott, but Penn is the undeniable star. If you don’t need a film
experience to soothe and delight, try this little film that shows us a
particular time and yet can reveal how decency can undo itself in any time.
THE SEA INSIDE
1/2
Alejandro Amenábar’s Foreign film Oscar-winner The Sea Inside
features a fantastic acting performance by Javier Bardem. A Best Actor Oscar
nominee for Before Night Falls (2000), Bardem delivers another
Oscar-worthy performance. He plays real-life character Ramón Sampedro who,
after becoming a quadriplegic in his twenties, waged a decades-long battle
to win the legal right-to-die. This is a heart-wrenching story about life
and death, euthanasia, quality of life, death with and without dignity,
caretaking, maintaining hope, and letting go. I may have left out a pithy
phrase to describe some stage on life’s journey that The Sea Inside
explores, but basically it examines just about every facet of relationships
at the boundary of life and death. Bardem appears as his young virile self
in flashbacks to the young, vigorous sailor Ramón Sampedro prior to the
diving accident that injured his spinal cord. He then appears as the
fiftyish paralyzed Sampedro, who has become a seemingly shrunken lump of
humanity atrophied through the years of disuse. Much of the film centers on
his relationships with two different women. Julia (Belén Rueda) is a lawyer
who promises to represent him in his legal effort to end his life. Rosa
(Lola Dueñas) is a woman who has found his view of life inspiring and wants
to convince him that his gifts offer so much to live for. Sampedro is a
paradox in that he is both able to graphically illustrate the wealth of
function and experience that he has devastatingly lost because of his injury
and to articulate ideas and feelings about life that are moving and wise.
Despite how well he has seemingly adapted and the gifts he can provide to
others, he wants to die. The film splits time between the interactions he
has with family, friends, and admirers and then the interior life where he
imagines exploring the real world that physically he can no longer do. While
the film covers similar territory as Million Dollar Baby, Amenábar’s
film gives it a more detailed airing. We hear the anguish in the voices of
Sampedro’s family when, despite the obviously heavy caretaking demands, they
learn of his plans to end his own life. We see other characters lose
faculties as their lives take other paths to the end. We hear arguments pro
and con. The film has a wealth of experiences, ideas, and feelings to
discuss. There’s considerable subtitle reading for the filmgoer to wade
through. What the film lacks is much action. This is the type of film that
many people simply would avoid like the plague—a bittersweet,
thought-provoking exploration of life and death without a single gunfight or
an explosion. However, if you are game for the subject matter, this is an
opportunity to see a great actor at work and a tremendous movie.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
The Merchant of Venice, one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, is a
peculiar mix of light-hearted romance featuring the central love story of
Bassanio (Joseph Fiennes) and Portia (Lynn Collins) as well as the drama of
Shylock (Al Pacino) trying to collect the notorious “pound of flesh” from
the merchant Antonio (Jeremy Irons). A ubiquitous anti-Semitism undergirds
the world of the play. Even in the live-and-let-live Venice of 1596, there
are restrictive laws confining Jews to ghettos and restricting what Jews
could do for a living. In an anti-Semitic milieu, violence was frequently
directed at Jews. Since the Holocaust, we find discomforting a play based on
the friction and power imbalance between Christians and Jews. Michael
Radford, screenwriter and director, has pared down the Bard’s text, setting
the play in a realistic late sixteenth-century Venice. The result is a
sumptuous looking film with spot-on palazzos, courts, ghettos, and
Elizabethan-era costumes. Though I doubted whether women of negotiable
virtue would openly appear in public wearing fashions designed to frame
their bare breasts, my wife has assured me that this is historically
accurate. (I never saw such costumes on Masterpiece Theatre.)
Anyway, the action of the film flows from Bassanio, an attractive noble
chronically in debt, who needs a hefty cash infusion to make himself a
credible suitor of the beautiful and wealthy Portia. Bassanio asks his
friend Antonio for help in getting the money he needs. The relationship
between the two men is clearly very close and, in Radford’s version, coyly
suggests, without confirming, a sexual intimacy. Antonio, however, has no
ready cash to provide but does have the prospect of revenue forthcoming from
the cargoes of his four ships. He decides to use his future earnings as
collateral for a loan—for a sum of 3000 ducats. The chosen lender is
Shylock. The irony of Antonio, a man who has spat upon Shylock and who is
reluctant to even be seen with him (Bassanio is sent to arrange the loan),
seeking from him a substantial loan, is not lost on Shylock. He decides that
the bond for the money should allow him to receive satisfaction in the event
of default from a pound of flesh being cut off nearest Antonio’s heart.
Antonio, either blinded by his devotion to his friend or by overconfidence
in his prospects, agrees to Shylock’s terms. When Bassanio and his entourage
leave for Portia’s lovely island palazzo, his courtier Lorenzo (Charlie Cox)
elopes with Shylock’s daughter Jessica (Zuleikha Robinson). Her betrayal by
becoming a Christian and by plundering his wealth further unsettles Shylock.
Yet the story first concentrates on the devilish courtship ritual devised by
Portia’s late father for the successful suitor to select the correct casket
(box) containing Portia’s portrait. When the news trickles in that each of
Antonio’s ships has met a disturbing fate, Antonio is not able to pay off
the loan. Bassanio obtains from Portia double the amount due—6000 ducats—and
rushes to Venice to pay the debt. Portia and her lady-in-waiting Nerissa
(Heather Goldenhersh) decide to follow their men to Venice. Pacino’s
Shylock, unhinged by pent-up anger at his persecution as a Jew, including
its manifestation in his family’s disintegration, is totally fixated on the
execution of his bond. Initially inclined to plead for mercy, Antonio
recognizes the implacable hardness of Shylock’s heart and seems willing to
give Shylock the deadly “pound of flesh” that he demands. In a sense, it
seems that Irons’s Antonio has withdrawn into himself having nothing left to
live for. Portia is the play’s heroine, and Lynn Collins seems to be
effectively channeling Gwyneth Paltrow for the role. While she demonstrates
a fairly close physical resemblance to Gwyneth, her voice sounds even more
strikingly like Gwyneth’s. The film’s star is Al Pacino who registers the
pain, longing, and anger necessary to make Shylock a poignant tragic figure.
While some renditions have made Shylock a buffoonish figure, Pacino clearly
makes the audience reticent to gloat at Shylock’s comeuppance. Most of the
film works, but some scenes seem unwieldy, making the film feel less than
fully integrated. However, overall it is an entertaining and involving film
version of middle-drawer Shakespeare.
