Good Liars

Wholesome psychological thriller with great Ian McKellen and Helen Mirren but containing a few bloopers. The action is set in 2003 when the characters should be in their mid-seventies, not in the late eighties as now, but the cars in the movie are modern. A boy, future McKellen character, who grew up in Nazi Germany, i.e. without much contact with English speakers, learnt English so flawlessly, including the accent that he can credibly impersonate an Englishman after the war. The writers could have easily made English counterintelligence officer a Dutchman or a Czech. Finally, fifteen-year old boy--before the sexual revolution--without much experience, raped a girl in a house full of people. To expose him as a complete scum it would be more believable if he extorted sex for not promising to report her parents to the Gestapo and then betraying them all the same.

Catherine the Great.

A big mistake, even unprofessional behavior, was noticed by the critics in the decision of Helen Mirren to play 34-year old woman in the beginning of the movie being herself 74 years old. Furthermore, aging Katherine was portly. But it could be overlooked if the script could give her excellent acting abilities to rise to the occasion.

Some things clearly manifest ignorance. Catherine and Potemkin have a ship voyage around Crimea amidst ice floes. Soldiers bow instead of saluting. Christian Orthodox women of the court do not wear headdresses in the Church as if they are whores in a brothel. But the most grotesque is the emergence of the then non-existing state of "Germany". There were two German states among major European powers at the time: Austria or Holy Roman Empire and Kingdom of Prussia and dozens more among the second and third-rank powers. Most of the time, Austria and the Prussian Kingdom, nominally the vassal of the former, had confrontational relations and, at least, three shooting wars, which allowed Russian diplomacy some room for maneuver between them. But the gravest shortcoming is that authors poorly understood the spirit of Enlightenment and the values of Enlightened Absolutism.

Refusal to show Catherine's counterparts Joseph II of Austria who participated with her in her travel through recently annexed Malorossya (core of the future Ukraine) and Friedrich II--both partners in the division of Poland--threw Katherine out of context of her fellow enlightened despots of the period. The debauchery of her court was scandalous enough but, certainly, no match for the sexual appetites of  the French King Louis XV and his courtiers.

I assume that modern Hollywood, in place of the enforcers of the Motion Picture Production Code has a Committee on Disparaging the Russkies by the Ministry of Truth because such episodes were commissioned in the movies with or without relation to the plot, but talent shines through all committees and personal prejudice. No amount of twisting historic and geographic realities in service of a racist abuse put Mark Rylance's acting out of commission. And Tom Stoppard's writing talent made a passable movie out of pretty unfilmable Anna Karenina despite all his attempts at caricature as a loyal Czech.

Knives Out.

The best whodunnit I watched in a long time. In the beginning, Daniel Craig sometimes slides into English drawl from a Kentucky accent but this is all right. The movie even imitates Agatha Christie in the sense that his character is American version of Belgians stereotype in France for "slow". (Not my observation, but good, anyway).

Lighthouse

The duo of Dafoe and Pattinson is superb, the camera work is magnificent, monologues of a drunken captain in the spirit of Melville are well wrought. Allusions to the H. P. Lovecraft, Hitchcock's "Birds" and the Greek tragedy are well placed. And all that for what? To show two men on a desolate island to drink themselves into oblivion.

Ad Astra.

The movie heavily borrows (some will say plagiarizes) on a brilliant and unappreciated "Solar" and lacks the humor of the "Martian". The authors probably recognized that the plot was too thin for the blockbuster and added two clumsy and plot-unrelated episodes with lunar pirates and with apes taking over the Dutch spaceship. Why in these days and age they would not have humanoid robots to explore dangerous objects? I posted this still to illustrate that laser light as any electromagnetic signal travels 6-7 hours to Neptune.

                                         

Official Secrets

Not so much of a movie but a theatrical play shot on film with the excellent duo of Keira and Ralph Fiennes. Their understated, matter of fact, performance is sublime. Supporting cast is also great. While one can duly expect it of Ralph, Keira Knightly with years turned from another pretty face with an English accent of "Pirates of the Caribbean" into a formidable performer.

But the movie, similarly to much weaker and formulaic "Post" with Meryl Streep demonstrates not the real image of the British media, judiciary and even intelligence--where everybody knows that Blair Administration is an assorted collection of liars and psychopaths--but rather how they want to see themselves. In that vein, the final scene of split of Fiennes, and his antagonist, the Crown Prosecutor is mundane. Much better ending would be they giving "high fives" to each other and going fishing together.

Where'd you go, Bernadette?

Linklater forever engraved his name into the cinema history with technical innovation of a feature animation by the live actors in his "Waking Life". He is also stands apart from other American directors that his movies frequently do not tell story of violence and murder. But his overtly "sunny", polyannish outlook in the current film clouds the conclusion of Bernadette. It is always better to survive personality issues with deep pockets. Cate Blanchett is great as always.

Once upon a time... in Hollywood

Solid performance by Leonardo Di Caprio and brilliant--by Brad Pitt glosses over weariness and unsure gait of Quentin Tarantino. Rick Dalton must be his alter ego--washed up auteur compelled to repeat wonderful but aging tricks indefinitely. Whether the choice of his real life wife as a new wife of his protagonist is a Freudian slip or a conscious choice is not material. Australian bimbo in the role of British bimbo is amusing. But again, Scarlett and Keira appeared as another pretty faces and slowly but surely learned how to act.

At Eternity's Gate

If we equalize scripts with novels, Julian Schnabel is similar to Cocteau--who also dabbled as a painter--but his most lasting contribution turned out to be the movies. While Shanbel's paintings were commercial exploitation of the Post-Pop Art scene, allowing him to buy New York properties and date models, his "Diving Bell and the Butterfly" announced the arrival of a major new director. Willem Dafoe masterly plays Van Gogh but if we ignore color palette of the movie painstakingly reconstructing color palette of his masterpieces, otherwise it is flat and listless.

The movie bears some resemblance to the brilliant Polish-Canadian animation "Love, Vincent" featuring Van Gogh in the last weeks of his life whose inimitable pattern is woven by his letters to the beloved brother Teo. So I guess, Schnabel is again out of his creative ideas.

Midsommar.

Swedish, Norwegian and Finnish tourism boards must sue Ari Aster because of this arthouse monstrosity, which connects "120 days of Sodom" by Pasolini and "Wicker Man" by the way of the "Heart of Darkness". Even if there was little reason to visit Scandinavia before--snooty people (except for Finns who are not really Scandinavians), bad weather and culture mostly represented by the neo-Nazi biker gangs--there will be even less now. At least, Pasolini's masterpiece, or so I heard--I could not watch both movies--is exculpated by his crafty wordplay between "Salo" in the De Sade's title and the fascist Republic of Salo in the final months of Nazi occupation of Italy, when all evil glossed over by the Mussolini's reign exploded in earnest. The Wicker Man reportedly adds dark English humor to the mixture of cruel and absurd, but this movie is absolutely serious.

Saying that, the movie is not bad but Aster's humorless playing on a single chord of uncanny and disturbing--made me uncomfortable more than widely advertised but modestly presented gore and cruelty. 

The dead don't die by Jim Jarmusch

Proper name of this movie should be "F**k ya all". In course of Jarmusch  director's career, his misanthropy slowly consumed all other emotions until none remained. Obviously, the cult status of Jarmusch assured participation of big stars like John Waits, Iggy Pop and Selena Gomez in totally non-expressive roles, the last just flashing her nice ass to the camera several times. There are several freely hanging plotlines: the facility for wayward children with strangely tender and literate-talking inhabitants, the return of Tilda Swinton to heavens, unless it is a belated tribute to the ending of underrated 80s cult movie "Repo Man" and other episodes, which probably mean something to the auteur but which were never adequately explained.

Late Night.

Not so much of a movie but a filmed two-person play starring inimitable Emma Thompson and its writer Mindy Kaling in a credible performance in supporting role.

They Shall Not Grow Old by Peter Jackson

      The critic of Cineaste condemned the movie because, in his "liberal intellectual" worldview, he did not demonstrate graphically enough how soldiers were hurt by the horrors of war. In fact, Peter Jackson showed and broadcast just enough horrors not to make his narrative into a caricature. Moreover, the movie did not shun a more mundane features of the trench warfare: fleas, lice and rats, which were, by recollections of the veterans much more pervasive than enemy bullets.

       The critic cannot digest a realistic reproduction of war impressions by its participants: nationalistic fervor, total demoralization of a few, especially by the end of the conflict, and conversion of the most into mindless killing mechanisms and, yes, the fact that some people enjoy killing others, even or especially if it is connected with mortal risk for themselves. Not to speak of Ernst Junger, the author of the "Rain of Steel" and a great inspiration to a modest corporal by the name of Adolf Hitler, but Otto Dix, one of the most genial and outspoken portraitists of the war brutality, depicted himself as Mars, god of war and several times returned to his machine gun nest--the deadliest of the WWI military professions, except, may be the poison gas operator--when he could escape that by the war wounds.

       Peter Jackson movie might not be overarching depiction of the Great War, nor it was intended to be--but to accuse it for polishing the contemporary reality of industrialized warfare is arrogant and insincere.

Non-Fiction

The movie reminded me 50-year old Andrzei Wajda's "Everything for sale" where characters ponder the encroachment of cinema on theater and TV on cinema (in Communist Poland) in a tragicomic situation. Of course, "Non-Fiction" is a comedy with nobody dying and everybody enjoying healthy doze of sex, which replaced alcohol of "Sideways", with which is also shares some affinities. Now the characters discuss in a nonchalant and cynical manner the fate of publishing business in the era of the internet and social networks. But behind their cynical masks there is genuine fear but also concern about the fate of high culture. The only remotely sympathetic character is the protagonist's much suffering policy wonk wife. However, sex- and fame-obsessed author of semi-autobiographical chick lit Leonard Spiegel is hardly a good spokesman for high culture even when he quotes Nietzsche and Sartre (seemingly an obligation in France where even a bisexual ditz quotes somebody to her publisher boss in bed). Movie even adds a postmodernist element in the form of the character of Juliet Binoche--washed out TV actress in the French imitations of NYPD--to text to real Juliet Binoche, the movie star. Olivier Assayas is a famed director but this is not his best scoop.

Game of Thrones. The final hour.

Disappointing final year of the Game of Thrones was slightly exculpated by the unexpected final. One even wonders whether the final, explained but poorly supported by cinematic means, killing of the Dragon Queen by her lover was the deliberate ploy by Benioff to detract the accusations of complete predictability of the narrative after Season 5. The verdict that "the first victim of the eighth season was the lighting crew" still stands.

      It so happens that people aspire to be something, which they are not. Benioff, a great producer--he would not be able to assemble and control this gigantic enterprise otherwise--wrestled creative control from Martin to achieve what? Girls power stories and shutdown of the main storylines to wrap up the story by the Season 8? But he is not alone: Schumann, the great composer aspired to be a piano virtuoso who he was not. Paganini, a virtuoso, aspired to compete with Shopin and Liszt, great artists but also great composers in their own right. Spielberg, the greatest movie entertainer since Charlie Chaplin, wants to make serious movies, which are not his cup of tea.

      The main attraction of the Game of Thrones lied in its realistic, i.e. slow tempo, victories and defeats unrelated to a moral "good vs. bad" message, beautiful dialogues and the development of characters on the background of two-and-a-half unrelated but unremitting stories: inevitable coming of the Long Winter, unstoppable march of a new, proselytizing and barbaric monotheistic religion of fire and mysterious cult of god with many faces. This was a nice parallel to the actual later years of the Roman Empire, progressing on the background of the establishment of Christianity, great migrations from Asia into Europe, possibly enabled by the climate change, and religious heterodoxy and confusion during this time.

Previous Game of Thrones reviews

Croup

Loin

Coen brothers. Ballad of Buster Scruggs.

After the series of flops--though one must admit that these are flops only for Coen brothers--they attempted a redemption. The movie is very uneven: the titular segment is such a garish collection of commonplaces of the westerns that whether it is ironic or serious is hard to understand.

By the end it gets much better. Beginning with the scabrous, enigmatic character of Liam Neeson, the movie acquires its wings lost in the first segment. John Waits' segment is plain--but many people could say of John Waits what I already said of Charlize Theron--anything deeper than their counting on screen makes their fans drool. Two last segments are wonderful.

Cuaron, Roma.

Perfect, but boring movie. Yalitza Aparicio in the principal role is great. Yet, despite all critics' prognoses for it bagging the Big Oscar, it was given to inept, but politically correct "Greenbook."

Note: Obviously, Cuaron was traumatized by his father walking out from his family with a much younger mistress but himself repeated this exploit at least twice.

The Kid Who Would Be King

Horribly inept movie with primitive dialog and illogical plot turns, which got 86% approval on rottentomatoes because of what? Serkis Jr. as a main character? Patrick Stewart in a colorless supporting role? Usually, only political correctness fare gets this high rate because otherwise critics are accused of racism or misogyny.

Death of Stalin

Primitive romp, yet closely following Khruschev's memoirs. Bold shaven Steve Buscemi is believable as Khrushev despite great disparity in heights but the further the narrative is from the main character, the more it is slides into a bad caricature.

Green Book

A movie with a beautiful premise of role reversals (white man as a servant of a black master). But it is a single-note tune, which is a accidental pun because the movie is about musicians. But Viggo as a working-class Italian is wonderful. Mahershala Ali was given, figuratively, only a single note to play with but he plays it well. Remarkable is the inclusion of Nick Vallelonga, son of the principal character, both as a screenwriter and as a cameo. This is life intruding art in its most tangled form.

Vice

The movie is not bad but it fails to show the evolution of the inscrutable psychopath within the rarest of the rare--the family of psychopaths--Lynne, Dick and Liz. In particular, nothing is told about his family and influences before his marriage to Lynne. This cannot be surprising--after all there is no rational explanation of the behavior of psychopaths other than some people enjoy hurting other people. Low IQ psychopaths become serial killers and hurt dozens; high IQs go to the media, Wall Street, the CIA and the State Department and, in the case of some, to the Presidency and hurt millions.

However, Cheney in the Dreyfus cameo in W is really shown as a pure evil without any explanation or comment. Paolo Sorrentino in Il Divo is superb in showing another inscrutable, Giulio Andreotti in minute details such as him attentively reading obscene graffiti on himself on the Roman wall or discussing household finances with his wife after the day of plotting corruption, treason and murder. But Sorrentino is the greatest director after the death of Italy's generation of the greatest (Fellini, Rosselini, Antonioni, De Sica, Visconti and Zavattini). Christian Bale is a fine actor but he was not given enough substance to work with.