The Swimmer

What an odd little movie The Swimmer is. Ned Merrill (Burt Lancaster) decides one sunny Connecticut late 60s day to "swim" home to his mansion on the hill by way of every pool along a route he's concocted in his neighborhood. At each stop he encounters someone from his past or present, and the story of his success and failure begins to unfold. This premise is super cool and interesting, and I'm curious to see how the John Cheever short story that it's based on handles the tale. What bogs the film down are those 60s random shots, like the super slow motion sequences, the odd closeups and blends and fades, the tricks of shooting in and out of focus shots of trees while dialogue plays over. Enough of that crap. It dates and scars the film, sadly. But towards the end this crap goes away, and we're left with beautiful dramatic moments of tension between Ned and the people he meets. The scene with him and the lonely little boy in the empty pool is heartbreaking (albeit schmaltzy) and his reunion with former love Shirley is agonizingly intense. His last foray through the public pool is humiliating, but doesn't even compare to what he runs into once he makes it home. I'd love to see a remake of this film; I picture George Clooney in the part (he has the Caesar haircut!), although who can replace Lancaster, with his aging, leathery, sunspotted flesh in that tight little pair of swim trunks. Fun to see Joan Rivers as a pool party guest, but all the other players were utterly unremarkable. The Swimmer made me want to swim, read the story, and then do a remake. Not necessarily in that order.

OH MY GOD. They ARE remaking it! But...Alec Baldwin? Sigh. There goes my big Hollywood idea.

The Upside of Anger

I think when The Upside of Anger was released theatrically I wanted little, if not nothing, to do with it. I have never been a "fan" of Kevin Costner, with the exception of his showing in Bull Durham, so I don't get particularly excited over his films. Generally they are about him: aging has-beens who mumble a lot and get by on their alleged charm. I think it was an ad campaign for the DVD release that prompted me to bump this one to the top of my Netflix list, because I realized there were four talented young actresses playing the four daughters (Erika Christensen, Evan Rachel Wood, Alicia Witt, and my beloved "Felicity" Keri Russell). When the movie ended and I started to watch the little "making of" featurette, I realized that the movie had been meant as a comedy...so that was why the drama was leaving me feeling a little incredulous. But it didn't make me laugh, that's for sure. Things felt kind of uneven in the film--not necessarily the performances, but perhaps the writing. The cinematography was so very bright and sunny, too, which didn't seem right. And with so many peripheral characters, we never get to know anyone very well. We see glimpses of people (particularly the daughters) but their stories aren't fleshed out, they aren't allowed to reveal things that would bring us to know them more--how old are they? If the mom wants them to go to college but most of them are out of high school, what do they do with themselves all day? What's the youngest one's name--seriously, is it Popeye, or is that a joke? Care to explain the joke? So the oldest one had a baby? Where's the baby? Can we see it? Is it a boy or a girl? What the...? I don't like feeling like that when I watch a movie. But I didn't hate it. I definitely would never have guessed the "twist" in the plot, and I was really into the movie at some points. But ulitmately, the "upside" for me was that when it was over I could put it in the mailbox and send it back, and know that I'll get something else in return.

Adaptation

okay, what on earth took me so long to see adaptation? was i resistant? not that i can think of. i think it must have come out when i was not going to the movies or overwhelmed with cinematic choices. but this was a stunner. reeled me in so thoroughly that i got very lost in the story, as layered and unreal and metanarrative as it ways. charlie kaufman: genius. i even had to do some digging on imdb this morning to find out about "donald kaufman"--oh, so clever! the twin brother is entirely ficticious! (and even received several award nominations; not bad for someone who exists only in a screenwriter's mind!) i was attracted and repelled by larouche (chris cooper--those teeth!), which i'm sure it what we were meant to feel, to mirror susan orlean (meryl streep)'s feelings for him. and the weaving of the book's adaptation--can it even be called weaving when it's central, yet isn't the plot?--was so well done. streep has never been sexier or more alluring, and i was utterly mesmerized by her character and her luminous performance. nicolas cage, in the dual role of the kaufman twins, was disgusting but appealing. a truly lovely, beautiful, complex, compelling film. i'm so glad i saw this, finally!

American Graffiti

american graffiti is another movie that i have had on my "must see" list for an eternity now, and finally i got to watch it. this seemed, for a point in my life, to be a major touchstone kind of film, perhaps for my parents' generation of young adults in the early 70s looking back on their teen years in the early to mid 60s. i loved the music, and i loved the seemingly dihttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifsparate storylines (apparently lucas took a lot of studio guff for that concept, which is laughable by today's standards, since convergent plotlines are not news). i also loved that it took place all in one night, and that the exhaustion is so palpable. the cast is phenomenal, including harrison ford (in his first major role), richard dreyfuss (again, first major role) and particularly mackenzie phillips (also in her first major role, at age 12). it was a fun film, didn't ask much of its audience except that we, literally, go along on one of the many rides the film offers. i don't, however, plan on seeing its sequel. and it doesn't endear me to the mel's diner eateries here in los angeles whatsoever.

All That Jazz

"it's showtime, folks!" what a great line for the very troubled joe gideon (roy scheider), a thinly fictionalized characterization of director and writer bob fosse in 1979's all that jazz. i put this one on the list, i think, because it was mentioned in easy riders, raging bulls, but also because i had not seen it since the early 90s, and knew for sure that what i had seen had surely been over my head. and i was pretty much right--i must have understood the story, but perhaps had not been able to appreciate it as much. still, it's an odd film, very surrealistic, very edgy, very out there, even by 70s standards. the dance routines are excellent, and i adore ann reinking, and am particularly enchanted by erzsebet foldi, who seems to have virtually disappeared since then, only to pop up a couple of times in abt shows in the 80s. (where is she, please?) it was great to see this again, after so many years.

8 Women

oh, the french are a crazy lot, aren't they? i had no idea what i was getting into when i put 8 women in my netflix queue! i was lured by the brilliant cast (catherine deneuve, emmanuelle beart, ludivine sagnier, isabelle huppert, and virginie ledoyen) and feeling tres francais, so i popped it in. it's a lavish uppercrust with underbelly whodunit musical, all photographed in highly emphasized technicolor hues. i thought that it would, at most moments, play extremely well as a big splashy broadway show. the trouble with that notion, however, is that each character sings one little songlette a piece, which would have to be adjusted for the power ballads and group numbers that are the big deal in musicals. so really, i wished they'd taken the musical aspect and done one of two things: amped it up more, or, done away with it altogether. most of the songs and singers appeared as completely awkward and uncomfortable, with the phrasing, lyrics, tunes, and motions of the songs. the performances were right on, the plot thoroughly engaging, and the storyline full of twists (although some predictable, except the ending, which i came close to guessing, but not entirely).

Easy Riders, Raging Bulls

easy riders, raging bulls is a 2003 documentary based on the bestselling book of the same name (which, incidentally, i remember being released when i worked in books). i was extremely interested in seeing the evolution of american cinema in the 70s, and how its roots are actually in the french new wave. i became intrigued with the start of the careers of such powerhouses as george lucas, francis ford coppola, martin scorcese, and steven spielberg, and also found it amazing how so many of these film geek buddies found friendship and success at the same approximate time, via similar challenges and struggles with the hollywood system. i felt inspired after watching this to see more ofhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif the films this documentary metions, although ironically, i still can't bring myself to have any desire to watch either films from the title! i found this to be extremely enjoyable and enlightening, particularly to anyone with even a passing interest in the history of film.

Married To It

thankfully married to it is the last installment in my recent cybill shepherd mini-tribute run, although this was an ensemble piece, in all fairness. and i love the ensemble: stockard channing, robert sean leonard, ron silver, cybill, and so on, but i'm not sold on this sort of heavy handed tries too hard early 90s examination of fraying modern realtionships--three couples' lives that intertwine accidentally but to mutual benefit. it was a frustrating journey (particularly seeing channing so disheveled) full of cliche and oddly delivered lines (could mary stuart masterson be any more annoying?), but i did choke out a tear or two at the highly sentimental (and implausible) ending of a school pageant hommage to hippiedom. over all: a schlocky trip through drippy-dom.

Daisy Miller

there really isn't all that much to say about this predominantly unsuccessful early 1970's adaptation of the henry james short story. it wasn't wholly painful, but somewhat tedious. bogdanovich seemed to cast virtually every member of his las picture show ensemble, which just lent it the feeling that the townspeople of that film were all starring in a community theatre costume drama. i think i'd be better off reading the book. a bad review of this one certainly isn't news.

Chances Are

chances are is kind of sappy, a little slow, totally unbelievable, oddly sexy, sweet, and kind of pleasantly enjoyable. i also can't believe i'd never seen this before! it seems so perfect for tbs on a sunday afternoon-how did i miss this one all these years? robert downey jr. is totally hot, and his wonderful comic talent made the film all the more engaging. personally i can take or leave mary stuart masterson--and the horrible bowl haircut she's sporting is kind of revolting. ryan o'neal is just plain smarmy, and cybill shepherd is so lovely. i was surprised at how kind of sexy things got, particularly between corinne (shepherd) and alex (downey), but then kept reminding myself that there was no way in h-e-double hockey sticks that in a late 80s romantic comedy would those two characters ever be allowed to go all the way, so it was kind of a tease. everything got tidied up at the end, which was entirely to be expected, but the best part of all was that it turns out the 'love theme' is cher and peter cetera singing "after all" which rocks my face out in all its 1989 pop ballad glory. i immediately went and downloaded the song and can now recreate all its wonderousness on my ipod while i'm stuck in traffic.

Swimming Pool

so going in to watching this one all i knew was that it was sexy, mysterious, and somehow affiliated with the french. going out i feel just about the same way, because swimming pool was good--great even--but also a total head scratcher. what did it all mean?

charlotte rampling was great as a tense, wistful, been-there-so-now-what mystery writer who goes to france to use her boss and editor's manse as escape therapy and theoretical inspiration for her next tome. lo and behold his oversexed daughter julie (ludivine sagnier) shows up and throws her way, way, way off course and deep into a world of sex, intrigue and old love. well, sort of. that's kind of hyper-dramatized. actually, julie is sort of troubled, and both women are sort of lost souls longing for some love and affirmation, and their bond is tentative, only because neither rightfully trusts the other. i love their dynamic, and the way that sarah (rampling) gets julie to open up, and vice versa. and i love how sarah invents a story, and how it seems she really stuns her boss with the finish product.

of course, i don't get the ending. julie? julia?

was it all a dream, was it all fiction? i really enjoyed it, regardless.

Taxi Driver

"you talkin' to me?" yeah, yeah. everyone knows that line. but up until today, i had never seen the movie. figured it was about damn time. the best thing about netflix is that you can keep all the want-to-sees in a nice, tidy list. and this was a want-to-see. so i saw it.

what a creepy movie! i actually got the most creeped out right in the last few minutes, when travis bickle (robert deniro) picks up betsy (cybill shepherd) for the last time; for some reason the fact that he was back out crawling the streets was the most unsettling to me, and made me feel all creepy-crawly and antsy. i was expecting it to be so much more bloody and violent, so that when it wound up being just sort of brooding and edgy and sensual saxophone notes i was a little confused, but in a good way. i think what had kept me from seeing it in the past was that i thought it was mostly violence.

i'd seen bits of taxi driver before, albeit without sound. at the original "beauty bar" in new york's east village they sometimes project movies on the wall, and the night i was there in april 2004, it was taxi driver. i tried not to pay attention, though, because i knew that one day i'd want to see it in full, and i hate seeing too many snippets and segments of things out of context and from the middle, not the start. so i put it out of my mind until today, when i pressed play on the ol' dvd player.

i really liked deniro's performance, and was thoroughly grossed out with harvey keitel's character matt. i particularly liked jodie foster as the hooker, iris. it was amazing to see how she looked so cool and with-it and mature when she was all dolled up in the nighttime, working, and then to see her so childish and plain when she goes to eat with travis. all her goofy sunglasses and the way she gobs jam and sugar on her toast were just perfect little bits of work that gave insight into her character.

i enjoyed the direction as well--the slow tight shots of the details, like the alka-seltzer bubbling, or the rain on the cab were fantastic. i also like the use of mirrors and perspective, like the rearview mirror of the cab, or when travis is in the shooting range and the frame is just a tiny square of him in the midst of black. target practice. eerie stuff.

i also love new york, the scuzzy side of things, and seeing times square in all its hideous triple x glory. i'm also really beginning to formulate a respect for cinema of the 70s, because it seems like a time when film was becoming something different, and directors were coming into the field with such distinct styles, voices, motion. its the era of coppola, scorsese, allen, etc. before hollywood went so far away from art in the 80s and into big budget buffoonery style comedies and hyperbolic action flicks. of course, it's hard to top annie hall. but i give taxi driver a thumbs up.

Texasville

i thought maybe because i enjoyed the last picture show so much (so very, very much, actually) that i'd get really into texasville, its 1990 sequel. i watched all of it, but now i kind of hate all the characters, because they proved to be massive losers. i suppose that's how life is sometimes--you are full of vigor, sparkle, ambition, cunning, drive as a teenager, and then you get older. then you get old. it's not pretty.

i think what i disliked so much was the lives that mcmurtry and bogdanovich mapped out for these folks. how on earth does ruth popper (cloris leachman) become this sort of hip, jogging, sage-minded bookkeeper for duane jackson's failing oil company? why is jacy farrow (cybill shepherd) so boring, yet pseudo-successful? who are all these drunks?

i was glad when about two thirds of the way through duane (jeff bridges) comments on how everyone seems to have gone crazy. this was exactly what i was wondering: is this how life is normally in anarene, texas, or has everyone just gone crazy? and by crazy i mean women leaving their husbands and getting pregnant by duane's son dickie, then falling in love with each others' estranged husbands, or sometimes tumbling around with duane, who goes home to a three ring circus led by his wife karla (annie potts) and their troubled children--slutty nellie (and her kids? those two are hers? what the...?), stud dickie, and the twins. oh, the twins.

and of course, just because someone needs to take some kind of moral high ground, jacy's there to embrace the kids, remind duane to love his wife (of course she won't go near sonny (timothy bottoms) with a ten foot pole, but wasn't he her last lover in town thirty years ago? why don't they interact until the end? is that even interaction?) and to pointedly not sleep with duane. oh hell. i wish she'd have just gone to bed with him. it would have been the one interesting thing in the movie.

it was sad beyond words to see the shell of the old picture show, and sadder still to see sonny sitting up in the balcony, thinking he's watching a movie. is that what small town life is like? no wonder jacy ran off in 1952 and didn't come back until 1984. centennial rodeo or not, i wouldn't come back for all the money in the world (which apparently, no one has there anyhow). while last picture show was a stark, sad, stirring, sexy movie, texasville was sadder still--badly scripted, well-acted (actors rising well above the material, although, poor, poor eileen brennan. i'd have said no, honey), dreary, awkward, and sparkless.

i wish they'd have left a great thing alone. films like the last picture show are not a franchise, and aren't meant to have sequels. magic cannot be recaptured; or, if it can be, it at least ought to be with far, far, far better material.