Directed by James Mangold
Written by Halstead Welles, Michael Brandt & Derek Haas
Seen on DVD
*** 1/2
Although the perpetual Hollywood craze for rehashing past favourites annoys me, for some reason I couldn’t pass this one up. It may have been the cast: the leading men have each had their share of temper-related tabloid scandals, but they are known for explosive performances on-screen as well as off. Discovering the filmmakers put up their own financing, because studio-land was of the opinion the western had flatlined, made me curious: why was this story so worth re-telling?
The Western is a distinctly American genre, tying in to the legend of the Wild West, the birth of nationhood and the beginning of the American Dream. 3:10 to Yuma is a brilliant exploration of the myth, juxtaposed with a well-rendered depiction of life at the time. Sure, it was an age of larger-than-life heroes and outlaws in a strange, vast landscape – but it was also an era of back-breaking work for the tiny, isolated groups of settlers strung out across the countryside, quite literally trying to scratch a living.
Quiet, crippled rancher Dan Evans, ridden roughshod by the local tycoon, is a man so defeated his eldest son despises him. Yet somehow he remains standing; keeps fighting for his farm, his wife and his sons. Christian Bale fully inhabits the character, portraying Dan as a man of integrity in the face of severe degradation.
In contrast, outlaw Ben Wade bends to no-one. Russell Crowe makes a delightfully charming cold-blooded killer. Nothing worries him, not even the deaths of his own men – and he seems in control of every situation, even after he’s caught red-handed.
When Dan steps forward to help escort the criminal to justice, he’s hoping to earn enough to pay off some debt – but instead, he’s quite literally travelling into Contention. It’s the town where the titular train departs for Yuma prison, but also the signposted opportunity for Dan to prove himself and finally become the central figure in his own legend.
Fittingly, it’s a tough ride getting there. Fighting off Indians, a posse of railroad staff with a vendetta, Wade’s gang, mobs of crazed townsfolk, and Wade himself, Dan’s journey is both physical test and battle of wills with a master manipulator.
As demanded by the genre, a variety of colourful characters back up the drama. All bases are covered: an annoying goon, loveable sidekick and an uptight money-man stand out, as does Peter Fonda, key among them as the grizzled guard determined to bring Wade to justice. Ben Foster terrifies as Charlie Prince, Wade’s ferocious, fiercely loyal right-hand man.
The rollickingly good score promises plenty of action, but drips with tension where needed. Shot on location, the film is beautiful, but director Mangold has astutely concentrated on the performances rather than allowing the stunning terrain to take over. The result is a fast-paced, intense story which the landscape affects but doesn’t control.
With no character morally sound enough to really be called a white-hat, the film inspires lively debate about intentions, morals, and man’s interpretation of religion. Much has been made of the ending, which differs greatly from the original film, but which I thought provocatively clever – the catch being that no matter what Dan does, he can’t win. Just getting Wade on the train isn’t justice, even if he can get him there, and they both know it.
Unfortunately for a film based on smarts and thought-provoking questions, it falls down logically. A elderly man with a severe abdominal wound, operated on with unsterilised, barbaric equipment and no anaesthesia, cannot believably be galloping across the country hours later, no matter how gruffly he asserts “ain’t the first time I’ve been shot.” I’m likewise unable to buy that a crack shot on a determined rescue mission can’t hit an exhausted one-legged man running ahead of him, or that the thirty-odd other desperate shooters will also miss. Such lapses might be part and parcel of a generic cowboy tale, but here it’s a let down, souring an otherwise extraordinarily good modern western.
Hooked on tales of the Wild West? The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is a brilliant examination of the arrival of law and order, amidst nostalgia for the heroic myth. A masterpiece from John Ford, prolific in the genre and one of the greatest American directors to boot.
Sunday 25 April 2010
Wednesday 21 April 2010
The Godfather (1972)
Directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Written by Mario Puzo & Francis Ford Coppola
Seen on DVD
*** 1/2
There are movies in film-buff canon so important that you just can’t be taken seriously if you’ve not seen them. Near the top of every cinephile’s best-of-American list is the one with the horse’s head, and an offer you can’t refuse – parodied, referenced and reverenced in all forms of media, by common consensus, The Godfather is THE mobster movie.
How I made it to the thirtieth year of my life without ever having seen it is rather a mystery, and after twenty nine years of build up I put the DVD in with some trepidation.
It's an epic, a classic.
But I didn’t really rate it.
Don’t get me wrong – the film is an Oscar winner, and deservedly so. The heavy score was gorgeous. The cinematographer achieved a perfectly mixed romantic noir look, setting the tone for a grand tale grounded in gangland intrigue: the descent (or rise, depending on how you look at it) of Michael Corleone, the straight-laced young war hero from one of the New York Mafia’s five families.
Michael is the “good” son, not meant for the family business, and purposefully kept on the outer - but each choice he makes takes him further in, his calm, quiet character slowly picking up the reigns and steering the family fortunes. The young Al Pacino, now film legend in his own right, became a star in this role. He’s magnetic, drawing the eye in every scene.
Marlon Brando received accolades as the stone-faced Don, building a complete character and flawlessly modulating his performance from robust ruler to invalid no longer fit to lead. The often-lampooned voice he created was beautifully kept up, and cleverly adapted to thin tones of ill-health, yet at times he still struck me as a posing caricature.
Several scenes were so well constructed they still haunt me. The almost dreamlike hit on Paulie, amid golden fields of waving grass, the Statue of Liberty just visible in the background. And the nightmarish hospital visit, Michael wandering alone through the empty corridors, tension rising as he realises all his father’s men are gone and the Don is alone and unguarded.
As a pivotal scene for the central character, this was beautiful - the strong feeling of impending doom, and Michael’s first panicked response giving way to quiet command of the situation, the first real indication that he’s a dangerous man. The relief tendered when he has successfully moved his father is immediately punctured with his oath: he’s in, despite his own intentions and even the efforts of the Family.
Michael’s development over the film was mesmerising. From naive young man, lauded by conventional society and repelled by his family’s business, he has become a cold, calculating killer, baptised as leader during the horrific intercut of family christening and hits on his enemies. The last scene, in which he is able to lie to Kay with a straight face, then with equal lack of emotion accept the fealty of his father’s men, is chilling.
But the film was over-long, and I found it over-complicated. Perhaps because I got some characters mixed up with each other, which meant I couldn’t keep the story straight. Or perhaps because of the sudden jumps in time, especially towards the end, with no indication that it had happened until confronted with a line like “I’ve been back a year. Longer than that, I think,” or the sudden, out-of-the-blue existence of a three year old child.
I also fell into a few plot-holes. To a certain extent, when watching a film, you have to accept that some things are going to happen which you may not understand, but which are an essential part of moving the story or characters on. Several times during the Godfather I found myself unable to allow these moments, and was yanked out of the story, completely unable to believe that a decision or action taken was vital, and thinking less of the characters and the film because of it.
At this stage, it’s not a film I’ll be adding to my collection. I do feel a slight sense of loss about that – expectations certainly not exceeded – but the mythos has caught me. I am already contemplating the possibility of a re-watch helping me understand the story better…
But first I am looking forward to continuing the story, and following Michael’s fortunes with the only sequel to a AMPAS Best Picture winner also to have received the Oscar. There’s got to be something in that!
Love the epic, romanticised period view of the American mafia in The Godfather? Try watching Gomorrah for a so-real-you-might-faint view. Set in the seedy underbelly of modern day Naples, the Italian mob’s reach and control is mind-boggling, messy and utterly terrifying.
Written by Mario Puzo & Francis Ford Coppola
Seen on DVD
*** 1/2
There are movies in film-buff canon so important that you just can’t be taken seriously if you’ve not seen them. Near the top of every cinephile’s best-of-American list is the one with the horse’s head, and an offer you can’t refuse – parodied, referenced and reverenced in all forms of media, by common consensus, The Godfather is THE mobster movie.
How I made it to the thirtieth year of my life without ever having seen it is rather a mystery, and after twenty nine years of build up I put the DVD in with some trepidation.
It's an epic, a classic.
But I didn’t really rate it.
Don’t get me wrong – the film is an Oscar winner, and deservedly so. The heavy score was gorgeous. The cinematographer achieved a perfectly mixed romantic noir look, setting the tone for a grand tale grounded in gangland intrigue: the descent (or rise, depending on how you look at it) of Michael Corleone, the straight-laced young war hero from one of the New York Mafia’s five families.
Michael is the “good” son, not meant for the family business, and purposefully kept on the outer - but each choice he makes takes him further in, his calm, quiet character slowly picking up the reigns and steering the family fortunes. The young Al Pacino, now film legend in his own right, became a star in this role. He’s magnetic, drawing the eye in every scene.
Marlon Brando received accolades as the stone-faced Don, building a complete character and flawlessly modulating his performance from robust ruler to invalid no longer fit to lead. The often-lampooned voice he created was beautifully kept up, and cleverly adapted to thin tones of ill-health, yet at times he still struck me as a posing caricature.
Several scenes were so well constructed they still haunt me. The almost dreamlike hit on Paulie, amid golden fields of waving grass, the Statue of Liberty just visible in the background. And the nightmarish hospital visit, Michael wandering alone through the empty corridors, tension rising as he realises all his father’s men are gone and the Don is alone and unguarded.
As a pivotal scene for the central character, this was beautiful - the strong feeling of impending doom, and Michael’s first panicked response giving way to quiet command of the situation, the first real indication that he’s a dangerous man. The relief tendered when he has successfully moved his father is immediately punctured with his oath: he’s in, despite his own intentions and even the efforts of the Family.
Michael’s development over the film was mesmerising. From naive young man, lauded by conventional society and repelled by his family’s business, he has become a cold, calculating killer, baptised as leader during the horrific intercut of family christening and hits on his enemies. The last scene, in which he is able to lie to Kay with a straight face, then with equal lack of emotion accept the fealty of his father’s men, is chilling.
But the film was over-long, and I found it over-complicated. Perhaps because I got some characters mixed up with each other, which meant I couldn’t keep the story straight. Or perhaps because of the sudden jumps in time, especially towards the end, with no indication that it had happened until confronted with a line like “I’ve been back a year. Longer than that, I think,” or the sudden, out-of-the-blue existence of a three year old child.
I also fell into a few plot-holes. To a certain extent, when watching a film, you have to accept that some things are going to happen which you may not understand, but which are an essential part of moving the story or characters on. Several times during the Godfather I found myself unable to allow these moments, and was yanked out of the story, completely unable to believe that a decision or action taken was vital, and thinking less of the characters and the film because of it.
At this stage, it’s not a film I’ll be adding to my collection. I do feel a slight sense of loss about that – expectations certainly not exceeded – but the mythos has caught me. I am already contemplating the possibility of a re-watch helping me understand the story better…
But first I am looking forward to continuing the story, and following Michael’s fortunes with the only sequel to a AMPAS Best Picture winner also to have received the Oscar. There’s got to be something in that!
Love the epic, romanticised period view of the American mafia in The Godfather? Try watching Gomorrah for a so-real-you-might-faint view. Set in the seedy underbelly of modern day Naples, the Italian mob’s reach and control is mind-boggling, messy and utterly terrifying.
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