Kingdom of Heaven

KofH posterWith America’s eyes turning toward the battle for Rifqa Bary in Florida, it seemed fitting to pull this one out of the vault. Americans are famously clueless about history, but especially so when it comes to the history of Islam and Christianity. When I was in Bar Exam preparation, the lecturer, who was your typical American WASP, aparently felt the need to vent concerning the Crusades. He said the kings and knights went off to “teach Christianity to the heathens” in the Middle East, and how they completely destroyed the “Islamic Culture” there “that had existed for thousands of years.” He then went back to legal matters, but many listening had no doubt been entrenched more deeply in very popular and very dangerous misconceptions. Circumstances prevented me from addressing him directly, but I would have liked to point out that, at the time of the Crusades, “Islamic culture” had existed for about 400 years (Christianity, for the record, had been around for about 1000), that the Crusades had nothing to do with converting anyone or teaching anyone anything, but were about reclaiming territory and securing safe pilgrimages for the already faithful, and that they had hardly been unprovoked.

Kingdom of Heaven (Ridley Scott, 2005) is one of many films about the Crusades. It does succumb to many of the same misconceptions of past films, but  represents an improvement. One review commented that the Muslims in the film were put in a surprisingly positive light. The surprise for me was that the Christians were not portrayed as completely barbaric, as tends to be the habit of Hollywood. For instance, the Kevin Coster version of Robin Hood (1992) introduced a new character in Hazeem, a Muslim who follows Robin to England from Jerusalem (Morgan Freeman). Through Hazeem, Muslims get undeserved credit for all kinds of advances in science, including gunpowder, which came from ancient China, telescopes, which were invented in Denmark in the 17th Century, and Cesarean section. Hazeem tends to be juxtaposed against Friar Tuck, a drunken, bumbling (albeit lovable) figure of Christianity. Worst of all, at one point, Robin Makes a speech, during which he declares “One man, fighting for his home, is more powerful than 10 hired soldiers!” He then looks over at Hazeem and says “The Crusades taught me that.”

And so it goes. Throughout history, from the class room to the silver screen, Christianity is portrayed as having spread out violently from Europe, destroying the peaceful, environmentally sound cultures in its path. Will the real story ever be told?

Balian (Bloom) at the Battle of Kerak, courtessy of Wikipedia.

Balian (Bloom) at the Battle of Kerak, courtessy of Wikipedia.

Kingdom of Heaven is a definite improvement. Most of the characters we get to know are on the Christian side. Most of them are admirable. The biggest surprise was that the movie portrayed Muslims, Christians and Jews as living peacefully side by side for much of the story. One knight tells the lead, Balian of Ibelin (Orlando Bloom) that his father, Grodfrey of Ibelin (Liam Neeson) kept Jerusalem as a place of prayer for all faiths, just as the Muslims did before them. (At least now both sides are equally misrepresented.) The villains of the story are Guy de Lusigan (Marton Csokas) and Reynald (Brendan Gleeson), two French knights who want to provoke a war with Syria. (Those who care to check out the DVD extras will notice the real Guy, at least, wasn’t so bad) They succeed about two thirds of the way through, which leads up to the climactic battle (which, I might add, is a great piece of film-making). We don’t see enough scenes on the Muslim side to really like or dislike them. We do see a brief shot of Saladin crying over the bodies of men slain in battle. We see a lot of shots of both sides shouting “God wills it!” as they move into battle.

In the book “Unveiling Islam,” Ergun Caner, a former Muslim,  comments that this cry (Dues Volt! in Latin) was only adopted in Europe after centuries of raids and colonization by the Arabs.  Other features of Islam seem to have rubbed off on Christians about this time. For instance, the teaching in Islam that one who dies in jihad automatically goes to paradise (Hadith 4:73, 9:93:555) seems to have been adopted by Pope Leo IV, when he promised forgiveness of sins to any who fought the Muslims.

Saladin attacks Jerusalem in a great battle scene.

Saladin attacks Jerusalem in a great battle scene.

The heroes of Kingdom tend to be those who acknowledge God’s authority but insist on using cool-headed reason to end conflicts. There is a priest in Christian Jerusalem who comments “thanks to religion, I’ve seen the lunacy of madmen in every denomination be called the will of God. The kingdom God desires is here (pokes Balian in the head) and here (pokes him in the heart).” This evenhanded film is probably characteristic of the post 9/11 era where Americans want to believe all religions are the same. Today, the media can’t seem to fathom that Muslim parents, who’ve cared for their daughter for 17 years, might kill her for apostacy. As she repeatedly told an interviewer, “you guys don’t understand!”

There are a number of battles in history that I have often wished someone would make a movie out of – battles that represent some of Christian Europe’s victories over the Jihad. For instance, the Battle of Tours (A.D. 732), where the French stopped a Muslim army that had pillaged its way across northern Africa and Spain, thus saving western civilization. Or the naval Battle of Lepanto (1571) that broke the Turks’ stranglehold on the Mediterranean and liberated thousands of slaves. Or the valiant defense of Constantinople, which resisted the Ottoman empire (which terrorized the world for about 500 years) for centuries. And then, of course, there were a series of battles late in WWI that marked the final destruction of the Ottomans and the liberation of the Serbs (who are now vilified as oppressors of Muslims). Today, we’re watching the story of a young potential martyr unfold from our livingrooms.

On one hand it seems like a pipe dream to hope that these stories will ever get the remembrance and celebration they deserve in the present climate. Americans can’t seem to fathom a time when western culture was in danger of being overrun.  Still, Kingdom of Heaven might be a step in the right direction. Maybe the next Ridley Scott will read this column. Time will tell.

[Rating:5/5]

John Adams

It’s all about the teeth.

Aside from the brilliant acting, spectacular setpieces, and sweeping epic scale of HBO’s John Adams, it’s the teeth that stand out more than anything.  To wit: as people age, so do their teeth, and in days long gone when toothpaste and mouthwash were as common as combustion engines and power tools, the older one got, the worse his teeth looked.  But in too many historical movies, be they epics or simple homespun character tales, nary a yellowed bit of enamel is to be found.  Be it Braveheart, A Knight’s Tale, The Passion of the Christ, or even post-apocalyptic movies like Terminator Salvation and Waterworld, nothing destroys the carefully crafted immersive quality of a film like gleaming pearly whites.

In John Adams, teeth are just one of a host of details used to create the most realistic representation of a historical time period I have seen since the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice.  Teeth are dirty, stained, and deteriorate over time, and this adds a level of realism rarely seen in movies today.  Every bit of early America is meticulously recreated onscreen in this masterwork of cinematography, and each scene is held together by the strength of Paul Giamatti’s acting as he portrays one of the most important figures in American history:  our second president himself, Mr. John Adams.

John and Abigail Adams, played by Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney.

The miniseries opens with Adams being asked to, of all things, represent a group of British soldiers who had fired into a crowd of unruly colonists.  Opening with this event, as opposed to other defining moments in Adams’ life or early political career, is a stroke of brilliance as it sets the tone for the rest of the eight-hour show:  this is not the John Adams we are used to reading about in textbooks.  This, we soon find out, is the real John Adams–the one who struggled with personal doubts, continually strove to prove himself, argued with his wife and dear friend Abigail, had severe fallings-out with his children, and fought tooth and nail to hold the fragile democracy together that he was so instrumental in creating.

Throughout the course of the series we are presented with an array of events that not only shaped the course of our nation, but affected Adams on a very personal level.  In the early days of the continental congress we see Adams bicker with delegates over the very idea of proposing independence, and we begin to realize that the picture of our early days is not nearly as rosy as we may have been led to believe by our schoolbooks.  The declaration of independence, written mostly by Adams’ friend Thomas Jefferson, was not signed in a neat little ceremony with all the representatives of the colonies gathered happily together in Philadelphia.  We see the revolutionary war through the eyes of soldiers and commoners who fought hard and bled harder.  A bitterly real plague of smallpox, from which Adams’ family is not immune, cripples New England.  In the years following the revolution we see Adams muddle along as a diplomat to France and the Netherlands, striving so hard to represent his country while not becoming mired in the pleasantries and ceremonies which, in his view, only hampered real diplomacy.  We see his lonely days as Washington’s vice president, his bitter term as president, and finally his waning years at his Peacefield home in Massachusetts.

David Morse, grateful that he got to keep his real teeth for the role.

But the sheer scope of this movie would be nothing without characters big enough to fill it, and John Adams fulfills this in spades.  George Washington, played impeccably by David Morse, was a real man with real struggles and doubts, not the cherry-tree-chopping saint most of us have read about since childhood.  Benjamin Franklin, far from the kite-flying inventor we have come to know, was a diplomat through and through–loathe to take sides even in the heady days of our revolution, and indulging far too much in the pleasures afforded him as an ambassador to France.  We also see, played with exquisite realism, other figures such as Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, John Hancock, Benjamin Rush, and other founders of our nation who are as brilliant and thoughtful and scheming and conniving as any politician today.

Through it all, though, is Adams’ rock.  His anchor.  His light in times of trouble.  His wife, Abigail, who struggles through years of separation from her husband while he is overseas in France, and not only raises their children on her own but stays fiercely devoted to her husband.  Such a character requires an actress who is not only brilliant and strong, but able to display these traits without losing an ounce of her femininity–a bra-burning militant she most certainly was not.  Laura Linney rises to the challenge of portraying one of America’s foremost females with dignity and grace, and in doing so presents one of the most astounding portrayals of a historical figure I have ever seen.

Contemplating the consequences of declaring independence.

John Adams is a force, to be sure, but much of the movie consists of long scenes of protracted dialog–often about political matters or national affairs.  The jumps between time periods are also a bit startling:  one moment John Adams is being elected, and the next he is arriving at the construction site of the white house, with nothing to indicate the passage of years other than grayer hair and tattered clothes.  Much of the actual family drama is merely hinted at, and the conflict with Adams and his youngest son draws to an unfortunate conclusion without ever really being built up enough in the meantime.

Still, this miniseries will stand among the great historical epics, and the way in which it brings a sense of realism to our founding fathers is so powerful it should be mandatory viewing in any social studies classroom.  In a scene near the end, Adams is presented with a painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  Incensed, he tells the artist it is terrible, as such a picturesque scene never took place.

Spiderman 3

Spidy 3 posterSpiderman 3 is everything Spiderman 2 should have been: fast-paced, hard-hitting, and dazzling. While Spiderman 2 was a testament to just how little you can do with plot and philosophy, Spiderman 3 stands as a shining example of just how much can be accomplished with mindless entertainment.

Spiderman 2 tried to cram about 10 years worth of comic book storyline into two hours, and wound up with so many subplots that it couldn’t do any of them well. Case in point: J. Jonah Jamison’s two radical changes of heart about Spiderman, separated by about 10 seconds. Worse yet, it didn’t leave room for any action.

spiderman-sandman

The kickoff to one of six stellar action sequences in Spiderman 3.

In Spiderman 3, there’s no shortage of action. Whether Spidey (Toby Maguier) is diving through cranes, or surfing behind a runaway armored car, the thrills keep coming. The writers did a good job of advancing Peter’s fighting skill from movie to movie. This one marks the first time he’s fired web bolts and used a few other tactics.

In between scampering over rooftops and shaking off impossible blows, the characters find a little time for 90210-ish sexual tension. Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst) falls out of love with Peter, then in love with Harry Osbourne (James Franco), then he makes her… oh, who really cares? This is definitely a busy movie, but it never loses sight of the fact that it’s all about the action.

When someone turns evil, they comb their hair forward.

When you turn evil, you change your hair.

There are plenty of villains, too. Harry becomes the new Goblin (the great Willem Dafoe graces the screen once more in a hallucination). Topher Grace comes aboard as the sinister Venom, and Thomas Haden Church gives a grainy performance as the Sandman, one of those comic book characters who should probably never have come to the big screen.

Church’s acting is not exactly stellar, but then, he doesn’t have much of a character to work with. He’s an escaped convict who stumbles into a particle research zone, where he is somehow atomized without being killed. This enables him to turn into sand, and seems to make him invincible, although, he still winces and grimaces an awful lot when he fights Spiderman. The police suspect him of Uncle Ben’s killing, and that moment is revisited several times in the movie. After slugging it out at the final battle, he apologizes to Peter, after which Peter acknowledges having done terrible things himself and forgives him. Sandman then blows away as a cloud of sand, leaving us with no indication that he intends to give up his life of crime, and the question of why the ridiculous villain gets to survive for another movie, while Spiderman’s evil twin dies.

Oh, well. My friends and I talked for hours after this film debuted, and every

Perhaps no villain is more intimidating than the evil in one's self.

Perhaps no villain is more intimidating than the evil in one's self.

change we proposed raised problems of its own. Venom should have had a bigger role, but the film was too full as it was. Sandman could have been left out, but that would have ruined the two-on-two at the end. Sandman could have been pure evil instead of a sympathetic villain, but that takes a crucial moment out of Peter’s journey with the black costume. Heck, it was fine as it was.

A fourth movie is reportedly in the works. There is no mention of the Sandman returning, thank goodness. The two most popular picks seem to be the Lizard and Carnage, although if the filmmakers can get the rights to the Kingpin from Fox, that wouldn’t be a bad move. Note to Marvel Studios: I’m all for more web-slinging action, but for gosh sakes, keep the soap opera stuff out of it.

[Rating:2.5/5]

A Prairie Home Companion

Some movies I just don’t get.

I see the trailers, browse the ads, check out the internet scuttlebutt, and by the time I finally get around to seeing some of these movies, I’m left speechless, wondering what in the world the big deal was.

A Prairie Home Companion is one of these.

I lived in Minnesota for five years (ten if you count the first five years of my life too, which I do, but not when considering pop culture awareness) and grew to develop a fondness for Minnesota culture:  their love for the outdoors, their friendliness, their practicality, and their sense of Norwegian history.  However, for whatever reason, I never listened to a full episode of Garrison Keillor’s weekly radio show A Prairie Home Companion.  Through the snippets I have heard over the years, it seems to be a variety show centered on Minnesota culture, with frequent references to a fictional Lake Woebegon and heaping with nostalgia for a time when people actually sat in their living rooms and listened to radio shows like this one.

What Robert Altman’s film does, to varying degrees of success, is fully capture the essence of Keillor’s bittersweet radio show while also exploring what it means to have an ending to various things:  youth, friendships, relationships, radio shows, even life itself.  And to that end, I get it.  I understand that through Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin’s characters tearfully singing what will be their final song on air, we are reminded ourselves of times when we have been forced to say goodbye.  I get that John C. Reilly and Woody Harrelson sing dirty songs about life on the cowboy trail we are meant to think back on better days and things long gone.  And I also get that Keillor’s pragmatism throughout the movie (which takes place virtually in real time during the course of an episode of the radio show) is a lesson for all of us:  things change, and we might as well move on and not dwell on the past.  We should remember the past, but not, as Keillor says, “be told to remember it.”

And all these lessons are well and good.  But as a movie, as a piece of celluloid entertainment, it just doesn’t work.  Watching people sing songs for an hour and a half, with very little actual plot holding it all together (Kevin Kline’s bumbling inspector, Guy Noir, supposedly sent to investigate the corporate deal that is bringing an end to the show, provides the barest of narrative threads for us to follow) is a tough thing to do.  Several times I turned to my wife with a puzzled look on my face and said “This is one weird movie.”

And so it is.  While the messages are nice, the presentation needs work.  But then, perhaps Altman, a celebrated director in what turned out to be the final movie of his career, was simply looking back on life through his camera lens and letting the very talented actors in this movie show us what it means to have endings brought upon us.  Perhaps the best part of the whole movie was the very end, when Lola Johnson, played surprisingly well by Lindsay Lohan, joins the cast of the radio show at Mickey’s Diner several years after their show has ended, and offers some forthright and rather unsolicited financial advice to her mother.  We see in her mother’s confusion that life has moved on, and some things were meant to end.  Perhaps Altman knew this too.

Inglourious Basterds

I B Teaser 1-Sht.Few cinematic visionaries have an eye and an ear quite like Quentin Tarantino.  The man is a brand of his own.  When you sit down for one of his movies, you know that the experience of it will be quite different from any other piece of filmmaking not of his craft.  Tarantino is a storyteller through and through, possibly a little self-indulgent in his work and overly animated in his regard for gratuitous violence, but he has a talent for originality from concept to execution.  “Inglourious Basterds” surpasses all of his recent works.

I won’t pretend to know anything about the previous incarnation of “Inglorious Bastards,” but I will say I doubt there can be much comparison based on Tarantino’s signature style and knack for meaty ongoing dialogue.  Much of “Basterds” is just that: a lot of style and talky-talky.  But, like all Tarantino works, the dialogue is so interesting, well-thought-out, and well-delivered that it really absorbs the audience.  Many scenes in the film are built around conversation and the tension often skyrockets.  The actual plot (or plots) of the film seem to exist as an afterthought when the written page onscreen has us so wrapped up.

hanslanda

Christoph Waltz as Col. Landa

I will admit I underestimated the storyline for this film.  I assumed (based on the marketing) that Brad Pitt’s character, Lt. Aldo Raine, and his group of soldiers would spend 2 1/2 hours trekking through WWII Germany hunting, mutilating, torturing, and beating Nazis to bloody pulps.   Well there is some of that, yes, and some of it is very gratuitous and very violent.  Ultimately, that’s not the meat of the story.  Like all Tarantino movies, he constructs these sub-plots that intersect into one final meeting for the characters.  And that is the case here as well.  The movie opens with with a group of Nazi soldiers searching for Jews in hiding.  The Nazi leader, Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), drills a dairy farmer for suspected harboring of a missing Jewish family, which the farmer has secretly been doing.  Upon the family’s discovery, Col. Landa orders them to be executed.  One of the younger girls of the family manages to escape and carries the horror of that day with her, until four years later she has an opportunity to avenge her family, which plays into the other developments of the story.  This particular scene reaches an unbelievable amount of tension and is, truthfully, beyond spectacular.  Heartbreaking, yes, but unbelievably effective.  Besides Tarantino’s expert penmanship, due credit belongs to Christoph Waltz’s slithering, brilliant performance–one that will guarantee him an Oscar nomination come year’s end.  Every time he’s onscreen, there is an unsettling sensation running through your veins, and he has many scenes to steal the show.

inglorious picThe Basterds’ chapter comes in after that setup.  As promised by all the commercials and trailers, Brad Pitt’s (who is hugely funny here) slurring southern Leuitenant calls upon him eight soldiers–experts in Nazi killin’.  Among the most recognizable faces are B.J. Novak from ‘The Office’, and Eli Roth (director of Cabin Fever and Hostel).  Roth is the only ‘actor’ in the film that doesn’t quite fit the bill.  It feels very much like an extended cameo by a filmmaker, and it never quite works for the overall look and feel of the movie.  It’s not that he hinders the movie per se, but his presence and performance fail to mesh with everything else.  And that’s hard to do in a film where Tarantino lets anything fly as he totally rewrites history in scene after scene, amounting to sheer brilliance for the most part.

“Inglourious Basterds” is not just violent, or bloody, but it’s also quite humorous, as Tarantino turns Hitler into a cry-baby cartoon, and then saddles every character with outrageous, gut-busting dialogue.  Listen to Brad Pitt pronounce “Bonjour-no” trying to masquerade through a Nazi gathering as an Italian.  Many viewers will walk away offended by the treatment of WWII and the Holocaust as presented here, but this movie is all about fantasy.  This is an alternate-reality revenge-flick put upon the Nazi regime.  Think a successful version of “Valkyrie” meets “Pulp Fiction” meets “Man on Fire.”  The tone of “Basterds” almost works perfectly, but Tarantino does let his scenes run on for some extended length, which make for a very long movie.   Almost every frame actually does work, but as usual for its writer-director, this movie takes its sweet old time.

I can’t complain too much.  This is the work of a filmmaking pioneer, like it or not.  Quentin Tarantino’s short resume has revolutionized cinema to some extent.  “Inglourious Basterds” is a welcome return to greatness we haven’t seen since 1994’s Pulp Fiction, and one of the few great films we’ve been granted this summer.  As a whole, this movie is a bit hit-and-miss, but mostly an awesome, violent, bloody, hilarious, history-rewriting event that should not be missed.

[Rating:4/5]

-MJV & the Movies

The Hunt for Red October

Midway through The Hunt for Red October a few nights ago, my wife turned to me and said “Why don’t they make movies like this anymore?”  I asked her what she meant, and she said “You know, movies with just a really good plot.”  As we spent a good chunk of our evening watching Jack Donaghy track down a renegade Henry Jones, I realized more and more the truth of her question.  Red October is an excellent film partly for what it is (a solid plot filled with political intrigue and suspenseful Soviet/American showdowns, played by a veritable Who’s Who of famous 1990’s-era leading male actors) but also for what it is not:  an exercise in special-effects showmanship and envelope-pushing visual wizardry.  It is the story of a man determined to do what he knows to be right, and a man who, by the courage of his convictions alone, does whatever it takes to help.

John McTiernan is a veteran of action movie directing, and he puts his chops to good use here, even though much of the action takes place in confined spaces aboard submarines.  Having cut his teeth on the excellent Predator (one of MJV’s favorite movies of all time) and defined an entire hero archetype with Jon McLane in the original Die Hard, he once again shows his talent for creating scenes that ratchet up suspense and tension, though this time he does it through characters and dialog alone:  a key scene in which Captain Ramius, played to the hilt by the outstanding Sir Sean Connery, orders his men to continue down a deep ocean trench even though all their sea charts point to imminent doom if they don’t turn aside is just as powerful as any minigun or broken-glass moment in other McTiernan films.  The rest of the cast is stellar as well, including Alec Baldwin, Sam Neill (working hard to perfect his Event Horizon “I am home” look), Scott Glenn, Stellan SkarsgÃ¥rd, James Earl Jones, and even Fred Thompson and Tim Curry (not to mention longtime McTiernan collaborator Jeffrey Jones) for good measure.

Another aspect of this film I admire is its restraint in terms of plot:  the Russians have built their largest, most powerful submarine yet, and it can run nearly silent.  However, instead of plotting the utter destruction of the United States, Ramius is ordered to conduct routine naval maneuvers in order to show the USA how powerful the Russian navy truly is.  There’s no doomsday scenario here–the Russians are not out to destroy the whole of North America.  They take a far more measured approach, which heightens the realism of the movie and makes the conflict all the more palpable.  Ramius of course has other plans, but again they are not what we would expect:  instead of ignoring orders and going ahead with the destruction of his enemies, he plans to defect and essentially give the entire submarine to the United States.  His enemies become the entire Russian navy, who wants to stop him from defecting, as well as several key players in the US Military who don’t believe such a brilliant Russian patriot would actually give himself (and his submarine) up so easily.

Jack Ryan, the longstanding Tom Clancy hero played here by Aled Baldwin, is the only one who knows what Ramius is really up to.  Here again Red October avoids cliché, and instead of having the entire movie come down to a matter of one powerful commander refusing to believe Ryan (as is the case in so many movies like this), his concerns are mostly heeded throughout the movie, and moments of tension are scattered throughout instead of having everything lead up to one moment at the end, which the audience would surely know the outcome of anyway.

One more noteworthy element of Red October is the special effects:  no cutting-edge CGI here (remember, this movie came out one year after The Abyss), just models, clever lighting and smoke effects, and some excellent practical effects.  The submarines plod along slowly underwater, visibility is limited to a few murky projections on the ocean floor and lots of particles floating past, and only the occasional torpedo belies any hint of bluescreen.  There’s a tangible quality about models that, when done right, makes then infinitely more engaging than their CGI counterparts.  The real stars here are not the subs, and had this movie been done today we would have been forced to endure bombastic and unrealistic scenes of submarines careening all over the ocean in some sort of twisted aquatic ballet.  As it stands, though, the effects take a backseat to the actors, conflict, and (gasp!) plot.  And that’s how it should be.

Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room

I’ve written before about the distinction that must be drawn between a documentary and a piece of entertainment, and how some purported documentaries fall much more in the category of the latter than the former.  A good documentary should investigate, educate, explore, expose, and along the way, entertain.  But it should not put entertainment above education, and while Enron is a good documentary, it too often strays from the path and becomes enmeshed in attempts to charm the audience rather than present hard solid facts.

Not that facts aren’t presented here–plenty of them, to be sure, make up vital portions of the movie.  There are interviews throughout the movie with several individuals who worked at Enron as well as Bethany McLean, the reporter who broke the story of Enron’s scandals in 2001 (as well as co-author of the book on which this movie is based), corporate whistleblower Sherron Watkins, and even Gray Davis, the former governor of California.  Snippets of congressional hearings, particularly those involving Jeff Skilling, the president of Enron, are revealing and sometimes tough to sit through, as we watch him dance around the truth and even outright lie to his inquisitors about what happened at Enron and the key role he played in the downfall of the company.

Aside from the interviews, Alex Gibney, the director, does a pretty good job of using archive footage, newspaper and magazine articles, and other sources to document the rise and fall of one of the country’s largest and most powerful energy companies.  More importantly, I have a much better sense of what happened during the downfall of the company, and why it happened.

Where the movie falls apart, though, is in its presentation of all the material.  Whereas master documentarian Ken Burns takes a slow, careful look at his subjects, lets interviews clips go as long as they need to, and allows the material itself to carry the viewer through an (often very long) film, Gibney has a very MTV-style approach that just doesn’t quite work as well.  Interviews and archive footage are often inter-spliced with TV clips, rock music, and created bits that strive to capture the short attentions span of a generation weaned on Michael Bay-style editing.  One segment, in discussing the excesses of Enron corporate trips, uses clips of dirt bikers performing X-games stunts in the desert while the narrator describes how Enron execs would sometimes go ride motocross to help build teamwork and leadership.  I’m no dirt biker, but I’m pretty sure Ken Lay and Andrew Fastow wouldn’t launch themselves 20 feet into the air while doing backflips.  Time and time again Gibney uses this type of editing as he explores the depth of the Enron bankruptcy rabbit hole (particularly in an entirely gratuitous segment discussing the after-hours trysts of executive Lou Pai) and I found it to be distracting and unnecessary.

The story of Enron’s collapse is wholly interesting and engaging by itself, and had this movie stuck to just the facts, ma’am, I would be able to highly recommend it.  As it stands, though, I would say go give it a watch, but maybe read the book instead.

Alien

alien_posterFew horror vehicles remain as important and seminal as Ridley Scott’s groundbreaking incarnation of the first ‘Alien’ picture.  The film came together during a time when science-fiction in film had just been regaining some traction with the enormous success of ‘Star Wars’; a time where the ‘slasher’ picture unknowingly birthed its invincible genre with John Carpenter’s ‘Halloween.’

Based on a B-movie screenplay by Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett during 20th Century Fox’s race to discover the next big space opera, ‘Alien’ received the greenlight despite its glaring departure from the world and joyous ambiance of that George Lucas phenomenon. The film opens similarly to ‘Star Wars’ during an unspecified future with a giant spaceship towering its way across the screen.  The ship withholds twenty-million tons of mineral ore being brought back to earth when the crew’s voyage becomes interrupted by the interception of a signal from an unknown planet. The crew made up of seven engineers, led by Dallas (Tom Skerritt), is ordered by their governing company to investigate.  Whether the signal is an SOS call or a warning remains unclear until they reach this planet and find a stranded alien spacecraft.  Three members of the team, including Dallas, and two others (Kane, Parker) enter the craft to the discovery of a giant fossilized space pilot and a plethora of voluminous eggs.  Ultimately, the curiosity of the crew members turns to terror as ‘Alien’ unleashes a deadly monster, hidden in the shadows and vents of the humans’ spaceship.

Having no prior knowledge of the film or series that it spawned works significantly to understanding the unpredictability of the advancing story, its impact upon its release in 1979, and its current status as a pioneer of the horror genre.  ‘Alien’ works as a rare breed, a film that takes all the time it needs to reveal its heading and its monster.  The pacing and editing are perfectly matched at building inescapable dread. The confinement of the mining ship traps the audience in its darkness.  The quiet, hovering score of Jerry Goldsmith strays from forcing the audience into the mood and tension of a scene, and rather allows the unknown and unseen to become far more effective at tantalizing the nerves.  The film also strays from the conventional in making its cast an ensemble without a dominating star or presence. The audience knows these people will be picked off in some order,  and there are survivors, but the writers intentionally left out first names in the script to allow for male or female characters.  All of them are equally endangered.

The alien creature itself remains an interesting and ambiguous design.  The eggs harvested on the alien craft birth, surprisingly, not the monster itself–but a parasite that attaches itself to the face of a living host and implants an embryo through the throat and into the chest of its victim.  Through the victim births the monster.  What an original and horrific concept.  Director Ridley Scott toys with the alien’s sexual nature: its underlying act of ultimately raping its prey to spawn its existence, and the physical design of the creature itself in shape and form.  The creature is constantly changing as well.  The parasite, following its host’s impregnation, leaves the victim and dies shortly after.  The actual monster itself begins life in a small phallic shape, but increases in mass very quickly.  The audience doesn’t see the process of this transformation, but the alien, while never fully explained, seems to have a short life-span.  Each time it takes the screen, it is bigger than its last appearance.  That notion adds more terror.  While the audience has witnessed the creature, their uncertainty continues to linger regarding what they might witness around the next corner.

alien2Even if the right elements are in place for a technically accomplished horror film, a usual downfall rests on its casting.  Not the case here.  Sigourney Weaver plays Ripley, an intelligent, by-the-book  young pilot.  She thinks before she acts, plays by the rules, and rarely investigates uncertainties. Tom Skerritt plays the captain of the ship as an experienced officer that knows the ropes and simply wants to get the job done to move on and return home.  He cares for his crew and often dismisses standard operating procedure in conjunction with instinct.  The cast rounds out with Veronica Cartwright, Yaphet Kotto, John Hurt and Harry Dean Stanton as the other officers, along with Ian Holm as Ash, a mysterious science officer somewhat reminding of Star Trek’s Spock character.  This cast actually proves to be very effective, carrying both the inner-terror and inquiry required to make the audience care and believe in this nightmare.

Of course ‘Alien’ is probably best remembered among all these accolades for one rattling scene that has become legendary for its time.  And without saying more for the few left uninitiated, it is still mostly a remarkable scene for the slim exception that the puppetry has not exactly held its weight in longevity for today’s audiences.  The performances and surprise of the scene have made it stand the test of time.

I will add that the version I recently viewed was the 2003 re-release cut titled “Director’s Cut” with a disclaimer by Ridley Scott that this is simply an alternate cut for the wishes of his fans, and not his preferred version.  His newly edited version slightly trims a handful of scenes and adds in a few others–with only one remaining all that significant and possibly controversial.  I enjoyed this cut immensely for this particular cut sequence toward the film’s climax, a scene that would further continuity with James Cameron’s follow-up ‘Aliens.’

‘Alien’ has spawned three varying sequels and two dopey spin-offs.  Ignoring the other works and taking Ridley Scott’s film on its own merits, it is a true cinematic classic that takes B-movie monster material and makes an involving and very realistically human film out of the science-fiction.  The film has seen its share of imitators, but none have matched the intelligence and elegance of this exceptional startler.

[Rating:4.5/5]

-MJV & the Movies