Pauline Kael talks Parkinson's, Her Career, and Everything Film

Pauline Kael seemed amazing. Having first heard of her with the knowledge of her death is as bad as finding out John Lennon was already dead first hearing the Beatles. Her deep love for movies, her unwavering, and often unpopular taste, just to talk with her about Brian De Palma, or the entertainment versus art debate would be enlightening. And there is much her and Mr. Davis talked about that is pertinent to the ongoing debate about how much entertainment and art overlap, where they do, and when one stops and the other begins. They talk about the heavy-handedness of movies today, and how lighthearted comedies and musicals are ignored. Which leads to the question, would she repeal her closing comment about the industry in decline if she saw Juno’s best picture nomination? And for that matter, why does she think the industry is not only declining, but decaying, and at the fault of Star Wars no less. Other crazy opinions include adoration for people like Mel Gibson and Brian De Palma, her dismissal of films by greats like Hitchcock, Godard, Woody Allen, and Stanley Kubrick in their later years. All her opinions are delightfully incongruent with the masses. Either way she was a champion of art, and reading her and a friend just talk is a pleasure.

Once: The European, Indie, Musical

The wails of a broken hearted street performer mixing with the clacking of vacuum cleaner wheels on cobblestone set up for an indie movie that mixes and breaks genres. Jack Carney has been trying to make this film for his whole career, having made three or four other movies about two strangers connecting and revitalizing each other in Ireland. This is his best attempt, a documentary-like musical romantic comedy that disregards tradition and embraces real life. The remarkable thing about Once is that it seems that Carney could have picked these characters off the Dublin streets, and followed them around for a few weeks with a Handicam, and this is the source of its greatest strengths and largest downfalls.
Commonality is the name of the game here as the curtain is raised on a dime-a-dozen aspiring musician, and daytime Hoover repairman who lives with his father and his grief. He meets a Czech woman who harbors similar woes and they connect almost immediately on a musical and emotional level. The story and characters are very basic, so it’s all down to music and character chemistry. Here we find success with catchy, if generic, heart-broken music mostly made memorable by the characters’ passion and connection with the tunes they croon with furrowed brows and glossy eyes. And it’s during these mournful ballads that the characters bond the deepest, and it makes these sections very touching, whether its him recounting his life story on a bus via spoofs of metal and country music, or her finally showing her wounds through a private piano composition. While these scenes serve as the linchpin of the film, scenes of pure absurdity (including an apologetic hug from a winded, thieving heroin addict) keep the tone lighthearted, and keep the film from taking itself too seriously. Interspersed between these extremes are depictions of unadulterated, European joy with family and friends, each portrait shot like a child’s first birthday party and scored by the music the two main characters performed together. These retain and highlight the healing power of friendship, even if your friend is someone you just met.
The everyday quality of the characters and their relationship is reinforced through cinematography, an unorthodox choice to have their dialogue fade into that of the crowd as they walk away down a Dublin street, and their own histories and actions are endearingly realistic and awkward. It’s a refreshing detour from the grand Hollywood, James L. Brooks love stories, but some may find themselves missing the sappy lines and grand gestures of amour, with boom boxes raised triumphantly overhead. This film takes the complete opposite route, in concept close to Breathless: The Musical, and it works well. Connections with characters and their pasts are easily forged and you find yourself caring deeply about them and their decisions even though you never even learn their names. The ending is tender, the music is catchy, it’s funny, sappy in a realistic way, and does very well in making a musical not about the music but about expression, and a romance not about love, but rather healing.

Oscar Nominees

On the Arts front page of the New York Times on January 23, there lies an article written by Brooks Barnes and David Carr concerning the approaching 80th Academy Awards, and their recently released nominees. The article mainly points out how the nominees follow a common theme of underground, dark movies. Greed, hatred, manipulation are all central themes among the frontrunners for this years Oscars. Many argue that this is a positive, reflecting on our societies general discomfort at present, but many just see it as an aspect of good American cinema, troubled people dealing with troubling issues, it’s the way it’s been for a long time. These writers were also interested in this year’s awards apathy towards big budget box office breakers that they have bolstered in the past, aside from a few nods to American Gangster, they also muse on this year’s unpredictability, which is arguable, but a serious focus and concern is the impact of the writers strike.
Having decimated the Golden Globes mere weeks before the Academy announced their nominees, the fuming train of destruction that is the Writers Guild of America looms again over our annual display of art, gossip, and really great shoes. They must be stopped! All us viewers can do is hope they come to an agreement.

Writer's Strike Comments

The writers strike is an ongoing bane of many peoples existence, a relaxing week night of Jon Stewart, or a bad sitcom, or chugging beer and screaming at Jack Bauer to ‘Kill ‘EM!’ has been reduced to beer chugging and screaming at passers by to ‘Kill ‘em!’ This lack of entertainment chipping away at our sanity can be attributed to a group of underpaid, angry writers that have been refusing to glue us to our screens since November. The writers guild and all its members feel that they are not getting adequate recognition for their work that is posted online, from which the studios reap all the benefits. It sounds very simple.
Hollywood has a long history of monopolizing and making lots of money from the sweat of creative people. So its not a surprise that a few are again fighting back. And to someone that watches Entourage and feels like they have some sort of idea of the shallowness of the industry, it seems that it is a simple case of the man keeping down the little guys. However, its been going on for awhile now, the studios are losing vast quantities of money, and the people at the bottom are unsure of job security, so it must be more than that. If not, someone make the studios sign something because my neighbors are getting angry.

Steinem Takes the MAN out of GovernMANt

Gloria Steinem is doubtless one of the most talented writers out there, and that can probably be attributed to sheer persuasiveness. Readers of this article will likely find themselves swayed from distrustful or intimidated by Sen. Clinton, to at least seeing her in a new light. She talks about the psychology of the male dislike of powerful women, she highlights Sen. Clinton’s credentials as a reason for popular support instead of just sex, and all while paralleling her with Sen. Obama.
Steinem says that “[if he] was named Achola Obama instead of Barack Obama, her goose would have been cooked long ago.” Here she highlights, with attitude, the double standard inherent in our peeing contest of our political culture. She notes that the voters attitude should be changed from the cowboy loving, ‘which guy would ya wanna have a beer with,’ state that its in, into a more reasonable race focused on credentials. Which is not an uncommon argument, but which does prompt certain questions, including what is her stance on Bill Richardson and his impressive resume, and reasons for which he is not included in this article. Also, the easy argument remains unanswered in her article, namely what if men and women are inherently different?

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

A big screen adaptation of Steven Sondheim’s popular musical, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, couldn’t be put in more capable hands than those of Tim Burton, the Hollywood master of dark, gory, and funny. Burton and his regular Johnny Depp brought together a well-written piece with enticing characters, catchy songs, innocence retained, innocence lost, love, lust, and a whole lot of blood.
Sweeny Todd, once Benjamin Barker, abused by fate and the covetous nature of Judge Turpin, the power hungry aristocrat who deems it necessary to throw Barker behind bars on a false charge so that he may win over Barker’s wife. Fifteen years later, Barker’s dead, and Sweeny’s in town, and he’s coming for the Judge, and his sidekick… and the majority of London. Todd returns to a gray, dreary eighteenth century London, in which his wife has killed herself after Turpin forced himself upon her, his daughter is now in the Judge’s custody, and his only valued possessions are in his old barber shop which is now above Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop, maker of the “Worst pies in London.” These two are bonded by one’s need for revenge, the other’s need for business boost, and their shared general dislike of humanity. The two then proceed to hack through the throats of Londonites to their bittersweet ends. The story is set well with the colorless London backdrop, not dissimilar to that of any other story set in 18th century London, and unfolds at a good pace, incorporates a pleasing, if obvious, twist, and it ends how it should. Fans of the stage production should be pleased, however the superiority of either is a subject of contention.
Characters are brought to life competently at worst, and magnificently at best. The cast is mostly made up of familiar names, and a few newcomers including Ed Sanders who proves exceptional in his role as Toby, the mistreated, but innocent London boy who works for Sweeney Todd. Alan Rickman is staunchly dislikeable as the child-hanging antagonist, and Timothy Spall is delightfully slimy as Rickman’s cohort. Helena Bonham Carter is excellent as usual, and Sacha Baron Cohen’s song in a fake Italian accent might be worth the eight bucks alone. Speaking of which, all of the actors are vocally adept, even though one might not expect it (Rickman’s voice is interesting, but not unpleasant), and a couple of professionals were wheeled in, who are indeed… professional. It is worth noting that there is no choreography to speak of besides Carter and Depp dancing in malicious glee, listing the types of human that will be on the menu in Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop, and wielding a rolling pin and a cleaver respectively, emphasizing their entrepreneurial intentions. Everything is generally over the top and satisfying.
Sweeney Todd is a film to behold.