Heat

Fastidious Crime
2/26/09 The main difference between the film Heat and other action or heist films is that Michael Mann’s film is much slower paced.
This is actually not a negative element in anyway. On the contrary, the fastidiousness on the filmmaker’s part adds to the tension in the movie. If the audience didn’t know all the details of the characters in the film’s lives, then they wouldn’t be able to understand the psychology of those characters. In other words, the audience wouldn’t be nervous for the characters well being. This is analogous to real life; we worry for the ones that we know and care about. The ingeniousness of the film comes out of the fact that Mann shows the audience, in great detail, both the lives of the LAPD police department and the group of criminals that they are going after. There’s an amazing lack of moral accusation on the part of Michael Mann, particularly for an action filmmaker, and this is because Mann likes to keep the situations in his films complex to the point of tension.
The film involves two groups: a sector of the LAPD Robbery-Homicide Division run by Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino), and a group of criminals run by Neil McCauley. These are not your typical cops and robbers. Both groups are the experts of what they do. This premise, devised by Michael Mann, is exciting because of the prospect of what would happen if the Homicide Division ran into these criminals. This is not Bonnie and Clyde; here both sides are true opponents. This ultimately makes it difficult for the audience to discern which side is going to win the fight. The film is like an elaborate boxing match; the audience decides who they want to root for. Mann does not disappoint; he builds on this basic idea by constantly introducing more and more story elements ultimately to create a basic tapestry of mid 90’s L.A., in terms of its crime and law element.
The film does not merely consist of an antagonistic fight; there’s psychology and complexity added to the equation as well. What’s startling in the film is how similar the two factions really are. What the audience sees in these two, and what ultimately
makes the action scenes in this film much more than mere action scenes, is that both Hanna and McCauley lead a very sad existence away from their “jobs”. They lead sad home lives because they love the thrill of what they do, and therefore, cannot truly get attached to their loved ones. Successfully carrying off a heist (McCauley) and capturing criminals (Hanna) is what they love. This element makes the action scenes thrilling for an audience member to witness, because for the longest time the film merely shows how miserable these characters lives really are. Therefore, the bank heist scene is cathartic for both the characters and the audience. (It’s one of the greatest moments in 90’s cinema.)
That and the scene between DeNiro and Pacino are breathtaking scenes. The heist is complex in terms of its editing and shot composition, whilst the conversation scene is very simple. It consists merely of cutting back and forth between over the shoulder shots of DeNiro and Pacino. The fact that these two acting titans are in a scene together is amazing enough. What makes the moment even better is that the movie these two appear in is rich and complex in its own right. Heat is not just an excuse to put these two in the same film. Heat would have been an interesting film without them. However, the fact that these two complement the movie in such a rich way adds wonders to Mann’s statement on the conflicted intermingling of law and crime. Both of these characters respect for one another (just as DeNiro and Pacino the actors respect one another) is an example of a conflicted relationship, because they have to ultimately hunt one another down (just as one actor has to compete with the other actor in terms of giving the better performance.) These two respect what they do more than anything else.
These two characters are very remote from the people around them, but they have to be in order to be successful at what they
do. As McCauley says to one of the men who works with him, by the name of Chris Shiherlis (Val Kilmer), “You wanna be making moves on the street, have no attachments. Allow nothing to be in your life that you can’t walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you spot the heat around the corner.” Hannah says something very similar when he states to his wife Justine (Diane Venora), in regards to his having to be detached emotionally, “I preserve it because it keeps me sharp, on the edge, where I need to be.” Yet, there is a subtle difference between those two sentences, and that’s apparent in the style in which they are delivered.
Because of his occupation, DeNiro’s character is more careful and restrained in his mannerisms, compared to Pacino’s character. (This creates a very fresh take on dialectical acting between the two titans.) This subtle difference between the two is
analogous to how Pacino’s character is moral, and DeNiro’s is not. It’s that subtle difference that creates the conflict between the two, and basically results in the premise of the movie.
That heat around the corner that DeNiro is talking about is what makes the film suspenseful. While watching the film, the audience knows in the back of their minds that these two will have a showdown. In its staid visual imagery and high concentration on the warrior’s code, Heat is very reminiscent of a Japanese Samurai film. The difference here is that these Samurai are in nicely fitted suits.
The suits are not the only components that make the film look breathtaking. There’s also the great cinematography by Dante Spinotti. He lights the DeNiro side of the story in a very different way from Pacino’s side of the story. McCauley’s nightmare, which he relates to Hannah, is that he’s drowning in his sleep. This is supposed to represent McCauley’s morality catching up to him. It’s his realization that his way of doing things is flawed. Spinotti lights DeNiro’s sections in a very crisp blue, almost as if the actor were drowning. Hannah tells McCauley that he has nightmares about sitting at a banquet table with all of the people that he could not save. This morbidity on Hannah’s part is reflected in the dark lighting that surrounds Pacino throughout the film. Both of these forms of lighting engulf the two actors/characters. It’s an aesthetic form of constriction; a metaphor for the lack of freedom that these two have because of the love for what they are talented at. This statement is really what the film is all about, and it wouldn’t be felt as acutely if it weren’t for the look of the film.
This is what makes Mann’s films so special, and what ultimately separates him from the amateurs. (The same could be said of DeNiro and Pancino’s acting. In fact, all of the acting is fascinating in the film.) It’s this kind of attention to detail that I miss from movies in this day and age.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller

The brilliance of a film like McCabe and Mrs. Miller is that it is indeed a revisionist Western, and yet it’s very undefined in terms of the point that the director Robert Altman is trying to put across to the audience. For a Western, the film is very artsy. It’s almost as if the director were saying, in a situation like the one in this film, where’s the beauty and mystery in the material? Altman infuses those qualities in not necessarily the plot (what plot?) but more in the details; in the way the actors convey their character traits through improvised dialogue and “gimmicks” like the way McCabe (Warren Beatty) mutters to himself in times of crisis. Those times of crisis are basically present throughout the whole duration of the movie, and yet there is such a calm tone present throughout; a tone of almost trippy elliptical confusion on both the characters and the audience’s part.
For a non-mainstream art film, McCabe and Mrs. Miller is about as unpretentious as a film can be. (It’s over before you know it.) Altman loves his characters that inhabit this town, and makes us the audience come to love them as well. I think this is because all the actors here are fully inhabiting shantytown characteristics. It’s great seeing Julie Christie gussied up a bit, because she becomes more ethereal in the process. (The same can be said for Warren Beatty-I think the beard helps bring out his eccentric side). I think Altman’s theory on beauty is that beauty is more defined when it is submerged and hidden. McCabe and Mrs. Miller is an art film with low-down humor. (The cinematography by Vilmos Zsigmond is so evocative, it’s almost as if Carvaggio shot the movie in the muck.)
McCabe and Mrs. Miller is highly ambiguous personal filmmaking. McCabe’s wanting to have complete control over the whorehouse is always being thwarted by business men who want to take over the property. They eventually threaten his life if he doesn’t give in. McCabe is not allowed to make he deal in the way that he deems fit, and before he knows it the ground crumbles from underneath him. (That man who is experiencing inner turmoil and muttering under his breath might as well be Robert Altman.) This is a metaphor for Robert Altman’s wanting complete artistic control over his films and being thwarted by the movie business executives financing his endeavors. The fact that this thesis is highly ambiguous is the way that it ought to be. The meanings are hidden and submerged in the work in order to not get in the way of the audience’s enjoyment of the film. Altman’s way of telling a story cinematically is analogous to how a beautiful tree is covered in rain. (One of the shots in the film.) Ironically today’s audience may be so unused to this apparent negligence that they may not respond to the film at all. I feel that this makes the work even more mysterious.
The way that the town is depicted, gives an audience member a wonderful sense of the geography of Presbyterian Church. An audience member is aware of the places that are safe and not safe to traverse in, like in any other town, only those emotions are made more drastically vivid. Every detail is wonderfully elaborated here. The whorehouse is so playful and fun that ultimately you the audience member want to take residence there. It’s a place to stay warm from the harsh cold elements outside (both literally and metaphorically.) Each character that enters Presbyterian makes the town more interesting, and one begins to know the town like the back of their hand. Every single inhabitant has their own wonderful quirkiness. Eventually, the audience feels that we are taking up residence in this town, and that’s because we can imagine what it would be like once we have left it. We can imagine what goes on away from our prying eyes. The audience get this sense because we merely overhear or see certain events and miss others. This creates expansiveness of imagination; creates curiosity and frustration and interest in this town, almost as if it were a real place. We want that to be preserved by McCabe; we are both worried for the town and also are worried for McCabe’s well being. There’s freedom in the filmmaking here, because it seems as if real humans take residence in Presbyterian. What can be suggested or merely guessed at is what makes an audience member watching these characters love them exponentially. That sense of discovery might as well have died with McCabe.
For a brief period of time, McCabe and Mrs. Miller are the movers and shakers of the town. The film’s tone is tenuous because of McCabe and Mrs. Miller’s grip that they have on Presbyterian, which is constantly dissipating. The couple’s doom is written in the wind, and the two of them want to try to forget this sad fact. All of these plangent qualities are felt in Leonard Cohen’s evocative music. The songs in this film both portend the future and make one enjoy the present.
I feel that McCabe and Mrs. Miller is one of the most romantic films ever made, and that’s because we don’t really see the intimacy between the two protagonists. Their love can only be left to our imaginations, and besides, unrequited love is the most romantic kind of love presented on the screen because it’s of a tragic nature. (All though I do think they sleep together.) The fact that we can imagine what their relationship was like is a blessing rather than a curse. The void in their relationship is the entire film; because of this McCabe and Mrs. Miller has a wonderful feeling and tone to it that can only be accurately described as Canadian provocative. In the end, the town turns their back on McCabe, and it’s great that this isn’t stated outright. In other words, it’s not made depressing in anyway, much like how the personal feeling in the work is not stated outright. Altman does not want his audience to despair, but rather to enjoy the surroundings of the film. It’s great that the audience has hope for McCabe by the end of the film, and hope in his relationship with Mrs. Miller. We do not want them to be forgotten or lost; and yet they are.

Sicko

Sicko is a depiction of how the American health care system is a shambles. Michael Moore’s film shows, especially the American middle and lower class who are the ones that suffer the most from this situation, what the health care system is like in the rest of the world. The results are shocking and against our favor. In places like France and England, and even a place like Cuba (!), going to get an operation costs nothing. There is a wide margin here between the freedoms that foreign citizens in countries other than the U.S. receive in terms of free health care, compared to the health care prices here. The form of incense that Moore as a filmmaker transposes onto the audience come from the fact that doctors can and do live very comfortably financial lives in those countries; what’s the excuse for H.M.O.’s to be jacking up the health care prices here? The answer can only be greed and heartlessness. One has to be heartless if they do not perform a life saving operation on someone, just because they receive benefits from H.M.O. companies. That gonzo journalist Michael Moore, as always, stays true to his form of filmmaking (by falsifying facts and making certain individuals, like in the case of this film doctors, appear to be fools) and yet this time the gonzo journalism theatrics seem to be justified because of the imperative importance of this particular topic. How can one not joke in amazement over the fact that many of the firefighters who helped in the relief effort of 9/11 can be better treated medically (many have breathing issues) over in Cube (where Moore takes them) than in their own homeland? It’s a sick joke, and yet its reality. That joke has an underside of deep human caring and concern over the whole American health care situation and the people being affected by it.
I already knew that our health care system was a mess. Who doesn’t; everyone is affected by the enormous amount that one has to pay in order to have an operation and everyone implicitly knows the greed of the insurance companies. What I didn’t know was what initiated this mess. I learned from this film that John Ehrlichman convinced Richard Nixon to create a care system based on the belief that hospitals should give less care to their patients in order to obtain a greater profit. However, its one thing to already know something; it’s quite something else to actually see some of the worst examples of how innocent people are being affected by the high costs in health care. This is almost like fully exploring your feelings and concerns, which are in themselves highly upsetting emotionally. I feel that the reason Moore shows you cases like the one involving a retired couple who loses their home because of the expenses that they paid for dealing with multiple heart attacks and cancer (not to mention the many deaths that result from the insurance companies heartlessness), is to make you, the audience member, strife with anger against the system, so much so that we as a society cannot not deal with the high cost of health care anymore and, thus, ultimately try to fight the system in order to abolish this problem. This is what kept my interest not only during the movie, but long afterward as well. It’s a film that stays with you, and how can it not? The problem that’s in this film is always present in our daily lives. Moore ultimately wants that problem to go away. Moore’s desperate need to ultimately vanquish this problem is what makes him a successful director; his actually deeply caring about the people being affected by this, i.e. the audience. We are not left out of the implications of this film like we were in Moore’s other movies.
The filmmaker’s relationship to those being filmed is very interesting. He, like the audience, is incredulous upon finding out how affordable it is to just plain live, not let alone survive, in Europe and other foreign countries in the U.S. His relationship to the victims is entirely different. It’s almost one of care and consideration and great calm; examples of reassurance that this system will not last forever and something will be done about the situation.
One particular scene in the film that reflects the spirit of the movie is when Moore learns that in France, everyone is allowed six months paternity leave along with paid leave if they are facing a grave illness. Even though this is a minor scene, and really has nothing to do with the health care system, it shows the caring that is generally allocated to European citizens which is something that is not felt in America. It really is a shock to the system when an American audience hears this. Why doesn’t the government care about us over here?
The socio political context of this film is one of the system being rigged. Here’s an example: ex-congressman Billy Tauzin’s saying to Congress that they must pass a senior-citizens drug bill. Once Congress does, Billy Tauzin makes millions lobbying for drug companies. What kind of example does this illicit behavior set for this country? There is a plangent quality to this film, because it simply appears that in this country the poor and middle class lose and lose only. This is felt in the people being interviwed’s behavior, in the way the film is edited, the way it is shot, the narration, ect. Yet, there is also uplift as well, which is the ultimate American spirit. Moore does not want anyone in this country, this includes the insurance bigwigs, to forget what this country was based in: care for everyone along with voicing of one’s independence. Moore wants us to change the system and to not let us forget that we can.

RIZE

The narrative being told in the film of RIZE, is one that deals with how exactly a community rises above restrictions like poverty and even death. It’s not so much that the groups that dance in the poor areas depicted in this film become more economically rich because of their dance skills. Rather, they become more psychologically enriched from what they do, which in a sense is emoting through dance rather than through violence. The dance communities in RIZE emote their frustrations as well as their sadness.
I feel that the filmmaker was very successful in connecting the situations that these people as a poor community encounter, with that of dancing in order to get rid of their frustrations through art. If this connecting method on the filmmaker’s part didn’t occur, then the audience wouldn’t quite understand why it is so important that this community have a need to dance; the importance is that the dance is the means by which the community stays together as a functioning unit, no matter what the circumstances are. I know see not only how a community like the ones in poorer parts of California cope, but I’ve learned for my own needs how to cope; how to energize myself so that nothing negative affects me. Really, that’s what the communities in RIZE do; everything for them is a mindset.
The filmmaker’s successes were the fact that they got such good footage; footage that someone like myself never has seen before because I don’t live in any areas were krumping and the like is done. Te dance footage is simply exhilarating; what’s amazing is that the footage remains exhilarating even after the audience learns of certain deaths in the neighborhood. Krumping prevails over anything. I was also amazed that the interview footage was so good. These dancers tell you exactly what they meant to convey by their dance moves; something that other more “professional” dancers have a very hard time of conveying. Maybe it’s so easy for these dancers to express themselves because what they are experiencing is genuine and is a very urgent need, rather than a means to simply show off and gain prestige. Also, the great interview footage may have to do with the ease with which the filmmaker’s have with these individuals. He almost seems to be one of them, and the joking that both interviewer and interviewee partake in is very refreshing to hear because poorer individuals, especially in movies are never depicted at ease in any way which is somewhat insulting.
One particular scene that depicts the movie’s spirit for me is when the man who has started these dance contests learns that his house has been broken into. At first he is overwrought with emotion; he can’t believe that someone would rob the home of a man who is not only a good man at heart, but wants to spread his cause as well. One of his friends says to him that he shouldn’t worry; this is merely one more indication that he should move on to bigger and better things with his cause. There is something so realistic about this moment; these are two human beings actually having a conversation with each other in a movie and one is so not used to this that they may be overwrought with emotion as well. It also depicts what this film is all about; overcoming one’s repressions and feats of sadness in order to live and spread your cause-make your individual mark. The clown man’s cause is actually coming back and helping him out as well, which is the ultimate sign that his cause is important. The film aesthetically is very musical. I felt as if each and every shot was edited to the great pulsating dance beat that these individuals listen to. I wanted to start to dance like them; even though I knew that I ultimately just didn’t have their talent. Some shots are very raw and beautiful much like the spirit of these people.

Jesus Camp

The documentary Jesus Camp is a depiction of the Evangelical Christian religion, and the disturbing fundamental aspect of that ideology and how it impacts children raised in an Evangelical household. The film shows how children who have Evangelical parents are not really allowed to express their own opinion, and are not even really taught reality. They do not attend school, but rather are home schooled in order so that they do not learn anything that counters the Evangelical beliefs. It’s highly disturbing how these children are given such a distorted view of religion. This religion speaks of how anyone who doesn’t believe in the Evangelical faith is a sinner and will be forever damned. The audience feels sympathy for these children who attend these camps, because the audience is well aware that this belief system is indoctrinated so much so into these children’s subconscious that they will subsequently have messed up adult lives; much like how the preachers of Evangelical Christianity are disturbed in personality. The film was obviously made for people who are not aware of what a disturbing phenomenon this really is; made for people who are not aware how these people are politicians (especially the modern Republican party’s) stool pigeons for votership. I wasn’t even aware at how this virus, as it were, is spreading; ¼ of Americans are Evangelical Christians, which is very disturbing and which is more of a reason for the importance of this documentary being made in the first place.
The filmmaker was extremely successful in keeping my interest. The rabid nature of the participants of this religion are almost out of a Horror movie; there doesn’t even need to be any narration to enliven the film in anyway. The footage speaks for itself; the corrupt nature of what’s going on here is so easily apparent. Kids around the age group of the ones attending the camp’s critical factors are so easily bypassed at a young age, and the corrupt Evangelical leaders and preachers know this. One is supposed to find religion for themselves, and not the other way around. I know realize after seeing this film, why this religion is spreading so rapidly; many Evangelicals simply don’t have a choice-they are not given a proper education and are basically deprived individuals. It’s shocking to consider that ¼ of all Americans are stuck in this predicament of being ensnared in a cult. The filmmaker was successful in capturing all of this because of the amount of empathy that the audience has for some of these children; they are naturally bright individuals and yet all of that is gone to waste. (Many want to use their talents to become preachers.) There were no challenges on the film makers part in depicting what they wanted to depict; the obviousness of the situation sadly is only apparent to anyone outside of this religion’s participants. Because of this, not only the filmmaker’s but the whole outside world seems withdrawn and separated from these people. The filmmaker’s merely document the footage and get out as fast as they can.
One particular scene that reflects this film’s spirit for me is when the preachers in the camp perform the ritual as it were of taping all of the kid’s mouths. These kids are not allowed to speak for themselves in anyway, and this fact (like the scene) is highly disturbing. A depiction of this is the home schooling scene, where its obvious that the children’s childhoods are obviously rigged and set up for one out come and one out come only; they have to be obedient servers of the Evangelical religion. (It’s shocking how even all of the children’s pop cultural references-even the drawings that they draw and the songs that they sing-all pertain to Christ. Evangelical’s excuse for this lack of freedom-the excuse that they always give-is that they don’t want pop culture, i.e., the normal way to grow up, to easily corrupt the children in a sinful manner.) There are very many close ups of the children. These are present in the film in order to emphasize the caring nature that we should have towards these individuals who are trapped; we the audience can subtly read their need to escape-their unhappiness-in their facial expressions. They all look like hypnotized zombies. The sounds that emanate these children when they prey are terrifying gobbledygook; they are not uttered in a wholly manner but more in a Satanic fashion. Everything about this religion, and the ways it is depicted aesthetically by the filmmakers, reeks of trouble.

the Dark Knight updated

Here's a quote from Manny Farber:"Continuation involves constant attempts to stretch out the moment--as in L'Amour Fou--expanding its parameters step by step. In the Rivette, it involves moving back from a romantic discussion between two neurotics to see the space they occupy, then to perceive the space as a stage, then their discussion as a rehearsal, and so on; Altman does it with more and more layers of voices on the soundtrack.Continuation is about entry. It's anti-conclusive, it stresses involvement, and it grows out of the termite notion. You keep moving forward and extending the time element as you go"

This is what Christopher Nolan does with the Dark Knight. The film almost has an epic length, and newer and newer details are constantly introduced, consistently changing the audience’s perception of the characters that they are watching. Basically, this approach is rebellious against the whole notion of adequate movement of time and space in film; particularly a superhero genre film such as this one. So what? And yet, so many of my favorite critics writing today disparage of this idea. (They guise this in their description of the film being anarchic. Is this classy subtle film, which merely suggests anarchy as a possible outcome for Gotham's future, really that negative in spirit? For God's sake, the film encourages helping one another out, even at the risk of your own life. These critics are merely priggish in regards to even the slightest mention of anarchy, almost as if the concept didn't even exist.) It makes sense that the filmmakers of the Dark Knight want to rebel against the common way to make a superhero film. Batman is the ultimate superhero rebel; he's the badass of DC comics. My argument with the critics who don't like the film, has to do with their finding the movie too long, and too realistic; as if realism was not allowed to be an aspect of the superhero genre. Gotham is a troubled contingent society, and this wouldn't be felt in any sophisticated way unless the film were long in length. It also allows the film to have something called tension; ah, I was missing that for awhile! (An unsophisticated way of depicting a city in danger would be showing characters in desperate need of help in only a few scant scenes). I loved the movie because it was shot in Chicago, instead of a "great" fake looking Gotham set, which is programmatic. I couldn't leave my seat, even though I had to go to the bathroom the whole time. The deft use of space in this film ends up making the Dark Knight a conception piece: An ever-enveloping extended work that's progress is interrupted by a menace.

I was terrified of Heath Ledger; it was as if Laurence Olivier were playing the part. Our generation's James Dean was a much greater actor than James Dean ever was. It's a very inventive performance, with the most perfect vocal interpretation of the Joker you will ever hear. Ledger gave the film an Underground B movie sensibility, which so fits a high budget extravaganza such as this. I felt as if he were some insane kid who one day dropped everything he was doing, and decided to have some irresponsible fun with Gotham City. (This movie is not for kids—maybe that’s why it was such a good film.) This kid’s nerves are fried; it’s actually kind of funny. At some moments this crazed person is amazed himself that he is getting away with this; bringing Gotham to its knees overnight and having Batman in his grasp. At one point in the film, the Joker enters terrain very similar to a John Waters picture (although much more aesthetically pleasing), or something directed by Samuel Fuller out of the 1950's--you know what I mean? It’s enthralling to watch and is also a first for a superhero movie. It also may be the last time we see anything like this again--this anarchic blissfulness in a cop out genre. The termite approach can only exist (in this time period) in a continuous movie.

Christopher Nolan: "Taking on a sequel is actually quite liberating. Normally, however you're arranging the material, you have to show certain movements in the narrative in the first third to get to a particular point. With a sequel you don't have to do any of that. You can just jump straight in." Nolan takes that tone for the whole film. That tone applies to even the other characters that we as an audience never had the pleasure to meet; characters who hadn't appeared in the first film. He keeps everyone a mystery, and that's intellectually stimulating--a first for a superhero film. Superhero characters are so psychologically interesting anyway--no one should rob any of them (and in the Dark Knight that means any of them)--of their riches. Nolan is trying to make a work of art here--and he's not going to let anything, including franchise normative film making conventions, get in his way.

This film felt as if it were directed by Nicolas Roeg, and I was amazed that it was so good. (It’s similarly edited and also retains that Roegish Gothic feel.) It's the only Batman story I have ever seen or read that made me realize that Batman is not merely a crime fighting detective--that's him on his flawed days. Batman, and this is why we love him so, is a symbol that will do whatever he can to make the city he guards a hopeful place; whatever the cost. And that he does indeed have limits. That’s the inherent tension in this movie; he’s both human and non-human, and the Joker realizes this weakness and tries to exploit it. It’s hilarious that Batman influenced the creation of this monster, and the Joker knows this as well. So does the flawed plangent Batman. That's termite art. It's ever enveloping--ever extending; unresolved. This terrifyingly philosophic movie (Seeing the space these two--Batman and the Joker--occupy is very interesting visually. Imagine one character looking like a punk Francis Bacon image trying to psychologically unhinge someone who looks and acts like a black anvil) gives hope to every filmgoer that there are reasons to see a big budget movie. This would not have happened unless the filmmakers were of a rebellious nature. They are rebelling against all the detritus of movies out there, and against the studios that are causing the mess, and at the same they are using the studios money. Who would poo poo that form of revenge? This film fills in the gaps of the first Tim Burton Batman, and does it feel so good.
Postscript:
For once, we actually have real sentiment and emotion at this award show. Usually, the Oscars is an award show replete with fake tears; tears that represent actors, in particular, congratulating themselves rather than their fellow peers. (In many instances for awards that they didn't deserve.) Here is the exception; the moment when everyone there and everywhere else felt emotional towards someone else. Wasn't that the point of Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker (and the point of that film)? Ledger's simply wanting to join his fellow peers in being nominated resulted in something much greater. His acting career represented the notion of prospering a dying industry, and tonight I finally realized he succeeded. The rest of the show was superfluous.

Fifty Words is Not Enough

The subject of a couple breaking up is a difficult topic for any art form to handle, much less the theatre, where all subject matter is compressed onto one stage. The whole workings of a relationship, including its tribulations and successes, has to be implicitly understood through limiting means. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the topic of marital strife cannot be done on the stage. I merely mean to imply that it’s a much harder task for a playwright and theatre actors and director to handle than say if the topic were shown in a movie. If one were to compare Michael Weller’s Fifty Words to a film like Alan Parker and Bo Goldman’s Shoot the Moon, then one can very well see the problems implicit in a stage setting when the topic of divorce is being discussed.
Fifty Words, which deals with only the couple and not their child (he’s merely a concept), is a far different work than Shoot the Moon. Yet, both works deal with the same topic. Ultimately, it comes down to which work has more artistic merit because their topics are so similar, and yet their handling of this topic is so vastly different. In Shoot the Moon, George (Albert Finney) and Faith’s (Diane Keaton) divorce is handled very beautifully because the audience sees how this relationship is under strain, because we have instances when we can see how their relationship affects other people, including their children. We have a real sense of the inherent tragedy of this couple and how this relationship can’t last, even though they deeply love each other; it’s simply a too chaotic and harmful form of love but its love alright. I feel that film is the most realistic example of a depiction of the strife inherent in a relationship than probably anything else before or after it. (More on the reasons for that later). The complexity in Fifty Words is much more limiting, because of the structure imposed by the playwright Michael Weller.
The inherent flaw in the play is the fact that it takes place within a day (or the evening and then the morning.) A relationship is a complex thing to depict, and I do feel that the audience has to, in the end, in some strange way understand the couple in front of them. How else are they supposed to have any empathy and emotional understanding of their situation? Fifty Words is simply one gigantic argument, while Shoot the Moon is the slow disintegration of a relationship. In Fifty Words, the audience has to see the strain that their relationship has had on them over the years. One night and a day does not give you that. Shoot the Moon is therefore a more complex work that constantly surprises like any relationship. I was not surprised in anyway by Fifty Words and I was not moved either. I felt as if I was being assaulted by the actors playing Jan (Elizabeth Marvel) and Adam (Norbert Leo Butz). This is not meant to be a negative appraisal of their performances (Although I did feel that Marvel overdid her anger scenes. If you compare her to Diane Keaton, than she is sunk. Her anger is inadequate to the situation.) Rather, I am criticizing the limiting structure of the argument. Everything is condensed so that there is anger and reconciliation and then anger again, like in any relationship. That means that the audience has to be trapped in this debacle, rather than having a reprieve in which to think about what we just saw. (The reprieve’s in the play come in the form of verbal silences.) It’s the contemplating about what just happened that makes one understand the sadness that is connected with the trials and tribulations of a relationship. We have to see this couple away from one another, like in Shoot the Moon, in order to see how lonely they are without one another. That inherent need is what makes a relationship that is not meant to work out a tragic one. We don’t see that inherent need in Fifty Words; the whole play is verbal abuse and consequently the audience feels intimidated by this couple. They are supposed to be intimidated by each other.
It’s interesting how similar both works are to one another. Yet their implications are entirely different. Yes, in both works there is the scene where the wife realizes that her husband is cheating on her, and starts throwing objects like plates. However, in Shoot the Moon, we the audience are initially confused by this form of violence. We are always confused by George’s actions, and then understand them after the fact. I feel that George realizes this too; this reconciliation is always too late and that’s a metaphor for troubled relationships. I didn’t feel that in Fifty Words. I saw the plates being thrown a mile away, and that’s where my dislike for these characters began. Their arguments are too much justified; these two understand each other like the back of their hand and can’t wait to assault one another. That in itself is an insulting form of characterization. The yelling and reconciliation scenes should be more petty and inane; the arguments should be over stupid little objects that have no significance, like in real life. We should initially back away from them, and then by play’s end want them to stay together. We can’t feel that way if we feel as if we are being verbally assaulted as well. Grace leads to more pain because grace doesn’t last. Scenes should reverberate, like in real life.
The house should be a representation of the couple’s marriage, because verbal abuse is initially so hard to understand. The house in Shoot the Moon is George and Faith’s relationship. Faith has a tennis court built, which is a representation of her moving on. George hates that tennis court, because it’s a representation of how he’s losing his house, his family, and his identity. That tennis court is built by Faith’s new man. We don’t get any of that complexity in Fifty Words; all of the themes in the relationship are forced upon us by an argument. The house in Shoot the Moon is the only way for the audience to understand these two people yelling at each other. It’s an example of the stakes that always eventually appear in a relationship and in a break up. Who’s going to take care of the house? Who’s going to take care of the family? (Why this play doesn’t show how this relationship affects their child is anybody’s guess.) There’s no contrast between the scenic beauty and the painfulness in the relationship, like there is in Shoot the Moon. I know that what I am saying is a little unfair, considering that the play form can’t possible contain these considerations (the stage format is too limiting) but I also feel that this is the type of play that makes one aware of the limitations of the stage format.
We as an audience are also aware of the showboating in the writing. These actors talk to each other theatrically, opposed to how people talk in real life. That line of Jan’s, where she says, “Give me back my power,” is an example of what I am talking about. The audience should understand what’s underneath the words. A couple that is experiencing problems in their relationship, experience them because they can’t outright articulate their feelings toward one another. The way things are articulated in Fifty Words makes what the work means obvious, opposed to this conversation in Shoot the Moon:
Faith: Just now for an instant there—I don’t know—you made me laugh George—you were kind.
George: You’re right, I’m not kind anymore.
Faith: Me neither.
George: You’re kind to strangers.
Faith: Strangers are easy.
My ultimate main problem with Fifty Words is that we don’t see how this couple interacts with other people. We should see that they can’t put up a front, which is the final example of disintegration. This is what ultimately makes the couple tragic and romantic. If Fifty Words were a movie, than it would be cut very rapidly like a Borne film. There would be camera angles emphasizing the actor’s ferocious anger towards one another. The problem with the play is the fact that there are no family members getting in the way of their lunges toward one another. This, ironically enough, makes the situation less depressing and more contrived. You have to feel other people’s pain as well, in order to feel your own. In Fifty Words, the audience daydreams because all we are doing is looking at this couple, and the actors yell at us to wake us up. When a divorce happens, nothing is the same afterwards. A line has been crossed, which is what leads to violence. One partner has a need to tear themselves back into the relationship, when family is involved (that would be George). Because there is no family present in Fifty Words, the audience doesn’t understand the violence. Why was it the playwright and the director’s (Austin Pendleton) choice not to show the son in this play? He would have made the audience torn up about the situation. The least the playwright could have done would have been to show that there’s calm before the storm in a troubled relationship (this leads to tension, which is a quality that this play desperately tries to get at). In Fifty Words, all that’s given to us is tempestuous storm, and what’s ultimately lost is despair.