Filed under: 2000's, Cameron James, Paramount / Scotia Bank, USA, Weaver Sigourney
James Cameron – Writer, Director, Producer
2009
Sigourney Weaver, Sam Worthington, and a bunch of digital people
Also starring the general from Starship Troopers (playing the general from Starship Troopers) and that guy who was Phoebe’s boyfriend on Friends.
The reviews for this movie, at first glance, are very strong. However, it is slight of hand, a technological magic trick. The film is awful. The plot is a series of borrowed components from other films sandwiched in a giant, sad cliché.
What is basically comes down to is this (do not read if you have not seen film):
1st world industrialized men seek to relentlessly exploit perfect bio world and – here it comes – build an open pit mine directly under the ‘world tree’ that has a mystical ‘Gaia’ relationship to the chanting, singing, bow-and-arrow wielding indigenous people. Oh my goodness. But wait, you ask: where are the unicorns and the Chinese pandas? And it is true – Cameron did leave out these two essential components of a puerile bio-fantasy. There are no digital rainbows. There is however the obligatory white ‘rebel’ who becomes an aboriginal person and leads the battle against the evil colonial industrialized society. At the last minute, he drops his bow and arrow and switches back to machine guns and grenades, to make sure that the whole point of the ‘magical oneness of the Gaia planet being superior to destructive technology’ is completely undermined. It’s embarrassing to watch.
The digital effects look good. The forest scenes are beautiful , and the soft lighting effects are very nice. This is what has fooled our gullible movie-reviewing public. It’s easy to ignore the horrifically juvenile plot and concentrate on the advances in synthetic scene making. In part, this is negative praise. We’ve been inundated for so long with very poor looking CGI that good CGI is like a breathe of fresh air. However it is still just an effect. The visual appearance of The Fantastic Mr. Fox is at least as appealing, but Mr. Fox is wonderfully written, and could carry itself in any mode of representation. Avatar dies without the computer tricks. The film therefore leaves a strong visual impression, and this is its strength. It is unfortunate that it is insulting poor in so many other areas.
Avatar also tends to borrow pieces from other films (not necessarily good films or good pieces) and cobbles them together within the 3rd rate narrative. The military commander – a poorly exaggerated drill sergeant character – is lifted absolutely intact from Starship Troopers. It is the same actor, in the same roll. Starship troopers found some of it’s appeal in the fact that it was clearly intended as a sort of plastic parody of itself – it was supposed to be a bit corny. But Avatar is supposed to be a kind of mystical moral tale. This ridiculously one dimensional character shows the absolute banality of Cameron’s ‘moral’ position. Stealing a character from Starship Troopers and giving it less depth – now that is a cinematic achievement.
The robot exoskeleton that said military people use is a direct copy of the loading bay exoskeleton that Sigourney Weaver used in Aliens (which Cameron also directed). The Helicopter/airplanes are also a direct copy – I believe from the ‘thopers in Dune. One gets the impression that the hackneyed plot is well paired with a theatrical landscape that lacks an internal consistency of it’s own, and so is left to borrow components from previous films and graft them onto the Avatar plot, to help support it in it’s weakness.
It’s strange that the film allows itself to so easily far into such awful stereotypes. The Aliens are called ‘aboriginals’ instead of ‘inhabitants’ like any other star trek film would describe them. It must be because they are non-industrialized – like Africans, or Mayans, or Native North Americans prior to the white man’s invasion. It is, like all the individual characters, a one-dimensional typecast. Making them aliens just allowed Cameron to bundle up all aboriginal earth people into one giant one-with-nature stereotype, complete with a ‘tree of life’ and a mystical connective force joining all aboriginal people to their natural environment. The bad earth people have no such connection, but a few of the scientists are allowed to join the ‘good’ aboriginals’ when all the ‘bad’ earth people are sent packing. It’s a juvenile fantasy: the military men are bad and stupid, and send un-armoured infantrymen in against natives who are armed basically with poisoned arrows (great plan!). The political people are stupid and narrow-minded, interested only in profit. It makes George W Bush look like a master of international diplomacy, and 1990’s GM look like a environmentally conscious not-for-profit. The scientists give you a few moments of peace as there is some early indication that their work will provide a bridge between the Earths technocrats and the Alien Gaia life-force, but this too is obliterated as Cameron chooses the quicker, simpler-minded path of an invented mystical force of nature to compete with the already dead stereotype of the industrialized planet destroyer.
In his final scene, Cameron has our converted earth hero give up his earth body forever and actually become an aboriginal in body. Before, he was ‘good’ only in spirit. Science gave him the simulacrum of aboriginality (that is the Avatar), but the mystical lifer force makes it happen for real. The story of biological determinism is complete.
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The short take is as follows:
It’s a story of biological determinism: the aboriginals are environmental and good, the white earth people destroy the environment and are bad. A bridge is attempted by the ‘good’ earth scientists, but that quickly is revealed as futile. The true solution is a magical force of nature which overcomes the evil white man. Oddly enough, it does this by reverting at the last minute to machine guns and grenades. It is helped when the aboriginals make a plea (in English) to the tree, which mystically sends all the forest animals to help in the counter-attack against the 23rd century armed fighting force. And – this is your 19th century colonial clincher – the good aboriginals defeat the bad white men when lead by a white man who has switched sides. The continuity flaw of the aboriginals allowing a representative of their known enemy to lead them against this enemy is solved by the film’s re-occurring crutch – mysticism (in this case, the seeds from the tree of life gravitate towards our hero as they fall from tree). The ‘Avatar’ itself is highest form of the ‘evil’ industrialized anti-environmental society: he looks like a member of the ‘good’ environmental pre-industrialized society, and through this comes to understand their moral and spiritual superiority. After a twenty minute moral struggle, he reverts to his spiritual pre-industrialized roots and turns against his forefathers. With the help of mystical world forces and some well placed explosives, he defeats his technocrat father and embraces his (alien) earth mother. Jean-Jacques Rousseau wins! The noble savage is victorious! Rasputin wins! Mysticism over technology! Science is given credit for good intention, even though it too is futile! The planet will save us, mankind, from the terrible evil of our enemy – ourselves!
Yes Mr. Cameron – your Academy Award awaits.
2009
Dir. Jason Reitman
St. George Clooney and Vera Farmiga
Now I don’t see a lot of first runs, but the review section in the ‘New Yorker’ magazine are so good that I feel I can rely on them to steer me away from inflicting too much pain on myself. Like I did when I said that ‘Krull’ was going to be an enjoyable film to watch (It was a Robert E. Howard story, for those who know who that is).
Up in the Air is very good. Clooney is perfect for the role, as it is low-key and direct. Vera Farmiga reminds me of a friend of mine. She is beautiful, 40ish, sharp as a whip and gets things done. She and Clooney are admirable. It is a film of three central characters who are high-performers. One assumes that the director or writer are high-performer types themselves, to know the type so well in the portrayals. It’s also an absurdly timely film – Clooney’s character travels around the country (USA) downsizing people on behalf of the firms they work for. However it would be am equally good movie at any time, regardless of this ‘temporal opportunism’.
It’s beautifully shot. There are a couple very good simple camera scenes, and with the number of airports and planes, there is ample opportunity. The soundtrack is sparse and very well done. The dialogue is far above normal, in terms of quality and pace. It really is clever, but does not suffer from the disease of people producing enormously clever statements that do not suit their character or age. It’s really well done. The people being fired give the film an added dynamic – the coolness of our engaging protagonists is offset very well by the sad warmth of the moments we see of people losing their jobs. A great script, well shot, and superbly cast.
Jacques Demy
Lola and Model Shop (the ‘sequel’)
Lola- 1961, B&W, french w/subtitles, Anouk Aimee, set in Nantes
This was Demy’s debut film. A note – the version I saw had bad subtitling, so that by the end of the film the subtitles often did not match the person speaking, it was very disconcerting by the end, however an excellent movie. 1.5H.
Model Shop- 1963, Colour, English, Set in low-rise 1960’s LA. Anouk Aimee and Gary
Lockwood, who was in 2001 A Space Odyssey. A surprise – colour and America, and pop music. 1.5H.
Viewed at Cinematheque Ontario, Aug 11/05, a double-header. Alone for the first film. I had thought Rosalind would come – she had wanted to when She, Darren and I saw Une Femme Est Une Femme on Tuesday PM and went over to ‘The Village Idiot’ for a couple glasses of wine afterwords. However I could not reach her and she did not call.
Pierre and Georg from Knox (Pierre: from Montreal, philosophy PhD studying Federalism, Georg from Frankfurt, last evening of his 2 month stay in Canada as placement from his Medical degree). Very pleased to see that Pierre and Georg both very much liked the film (Georg: Gay-org). See review below. Afterwords the three boys went and had a drink at the Idiot and than finished off Georg’s Molson Canadian and peanuts while playing cutthroat three-man elimination billiards in the basement of Knox. See photo.
(In Canada, we explained to Georg, all one needs for a good time is a six pack of Molson’s, a poorly lit basement and a pool table. We are a simple country, and this, for us, is the height of luxury).
Lola –
The attractive and almost frail Aimee is in Nantes, I think, although one might think it was Paris. She is in a Cabaret, chased by a straightforward and disarming sailor. He likes her very much, and must be leaving for America, so they are having a ‘romance’ while the other sailors visit the cabaret to dance with the leggy women ‘on demand’ (it is not a whorehouse). Lola has a young boy, blond hair, and 7 years ago her man left, without marriage. And yet – faithful Lola waits for his return expectantly, with a stringent yearning. Her childhood friend is a sort of cynical intellectual who gets fired for not caring about his work, for not liking his city or his time: he is an interesting disillusioned young man. Lola – her stage name, she is Celine, I think – and he are charmed to see one another again. He wants to take her away with him. But at the last moment, who shows up? and so she drives off, seeing her childhood friend on the street, walking, not knowing that he will not see her and that his suddenly declaration of love, out of nowhere, will be just as suddenly unrequited.
A very nice little film, with a sort of sedate enigmatic quality to Lola especially, but to the other characters as well. It is like the ‘gap’ in life is being filed, the spot between what we know and what we feel, and what we don’t know and what we don’t know we are feeling. Something like that, in any case. These characters do not ‘know’ what they want, as a business manager does: however they have a longing, and they go directly after whatever it is when it presents itself before them in circumstance.
A lovely musical score and footage.
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Model Shop.
1969
Pierre, Georg and I all admired the driving sequences as we follow the American around, for the whole movie. It’s like we see everything he does, and the music kicks in while he drives his little convertible MG through old LA. The pop music, by some band called ‘Spirit’ (featured as friends in the film) is rested from with classical sections, a great relief from the turgid swirl of 1960.
And Lo! There is Lola, from Paris, her son left behind her, and it has been, I believe, another 7 years. The young man is about 24, an architect, who has just quit his job as he cannot be bothered to wok on ‘plumbing’ when he wants to make something real, something definitive.
Dir Delmer Daves, 1947, B&W, USA
Bogart and Bacall
Viewed at Cinmatheque June 2004
Tremendous plot, very clever camera work. Figure, whose face we are not allowed to see (using in some cases some ‘first person’ camera work, seeing through the man’s eyes), escapes from prison and is picked up mysteriously by the beautiful and stern L. Bacall.
She has been watching his case, and has a personal interest – he is an accussed murderer. He gets, on a tip from a taxi cab driver, an ‘underground’ plastic surgeury facelift – and low and behold, when the bandages come off, it is Bogart. The final scene is ridiculously and artlessly sentimental; however a supurbe and in several ways innovative film. Five Stars.
Henri-Georges Clouzot, France 1953, BW subtitles
Grande Prix from Cannes, 1953. Best Film from British Film Group, 1954.
Viewed at Nathan/Justus’ house, March 2004. Rented as a guess.
A Latin America suspense masterpiece. 4 men stranded in a dead end town loaf all day on the porch of a local tavern. An accident occurs at the oil wells, and they need a delivery of tonnes of nitroglycerin. It can only be delivered, over three hundred miles, by two old trucks with antique suspension…our four disposed suddenly become would be heros, or would-be dead men.
Clouzot’s suspense is very very good. The slowness of the trucks, and visual build-up in the streets of the small town, and the harrowing scenes on the journey so full of risk. If this movie does not thrill one, if it does not deserve five stars, if it does not plumb the depths of these desperate men and turn them into9 magnificent possibilities – than what will?
*****
Chaplin
1940
2 Hours
Not bad, funny, with sound. The moralizing speech at the end shows the quixotic frailty of Chaplin himself; an odd, beautifully simple-minded idealist; one in great erst.
four stars, but no more.
Chaplin
1947
2 Hours
I just erased, in error, a very through review, and do not have the wakefulness to repeat it. A magnificent film, a critical and commercial failure that Chaplin described as “the cleverest and most brilliant of my career”.
Verdoux loses his position as a bank clerk to the depression: a position he has held for 30 years. He becomes a ‘blue bears’, a serial killer, seducing middle aged women and making the disappear when he is able to obtain their assets. This all to support, in middle class comfort, a young son and disabled wife.
The marvelous horror of it comes when the final market crash ruins hinm completely, despite his disparate methods of seduction and murder. The film than jumps to him as older, and worn out, and he describes how his wife and so did not survive the market crash. One suspects that, having used the most desperate measures to obtain the ignorant tranquil happiness of his family, he himself killed them to spare them the impossible but inevitable downturn that would have followed. Thus we see, like a great tower, the pride, even in his middle class standing, of this middle class hero and villain.
Filed under: 1970's, Audran, Stephane, Chabrol, Cinematheque, French, Huppert, Uncategorized
Violette
Claude Chabrol 1978
Isabelle Huppert and Stepahne Audren
Audran is the mother; Huppert is Violette – the notorious Violette – the daughter.
Her mother wishes her to be prim and sophisticated, and has ambitions for her. “You wish you’d married a train engineer, instead of a car man” says her husband, affectionately. Violette has affairs, sneaks out of her racy street clothes in the bathroom half way up the stairs to the apartment, and devotes herself slavishly to worthless me who bleed her dry for money. She is infinitely needy, but iron in her will for – something, at the same time.
Very good, like a still life on moving film. The two women are great, and the husband is a very nice backdrop. Their tiny apartment, which is nevertheless well furnished, embeds you in the frenzied psychological state of, in any case, two of the inhabitants. Violette wants more, but she does not know what it is she wants, she wants it too soon, and most of all, it is not a want a need, but a compulsive, dangerous, immediate need.
Chabrol as always, pulls no punches, and his knowledge of the hidden operations of the human mind is alarming because he makes no mistake, and makes it all natural, even when the results are so unexplained and disagreeable.
Chabrol, Claude (master of suspense)
Merci Pour le Chocolat
(Nightcap)
2000, France/Switzerland, colour w/ subtitles
Isabelle Huppert, Jacques Dutronc
Cinematheque, Nov 07th 2005, late film, by myself. Sent out a invite at last minute to Adrienne, Nathan and Guilia, but none showed.
A great film – Chabrol loses nothing, but perhaps has become – more subtle?
This review gives away the whole plot.
The heiress of a Swiss chocolate company remarried her ex husband, a piano teacher, now established in his fame. She id Mika Muller.
It is crossing of two families – a beautiful young girl, who looks like Liv Taylor, is a piano player who was, for a moment, mistakenly switched in the hospital for the Pianist’s son, when the child was being presented to the father. (The Pianist’s son by a former wife, now deceased from a car accident, and Mika’s prior close friend). There is something mysterious here, it causes tension, which is explained through he revelation that the daughter is born from artificial insemination – her father was sterile (not impotent). Thus when blood tests were used to ensure that the children were switched back correctly the mother had obscured the tests, as it was kept from the daughter that the man who raised her was not her biological father.
In any case the crux comes in that this sharp eyed girl, staying at the house for a few days to study with the pianist, sees the wife, Mika, spill the evening liquid chocolate on purpose. Something is afoot! Perhaps – a young girl’s imagination? Or perhaps more.
The girl’s boyfriend works for her mother- a forensic scientist. The spilled chocolate is on her sweater, and is analyzed, and contains – a drug! And the Pianist can only sleep when he takes a drug. And the girl is staying at the house – the same house that the Pianist’s first wife was staying at, the night she dies, as they were friends and always stayed there when the Pianist and his wife were in Switzerland. And that night the wife had to drive out for the sleeping pills, and first had her customary drink of cognac, and than crashed, and died. Her system was full of alcohol and the sleeping drug – which she never ever took! The mystery has never been settled.
But the Pianist feels something afoot. It is all too the same, too disturbing. The beautiful young girl is like his dead wife, staying as well at the house, going out to purchase the drug late, like his dead wife – because Mika ‘forgot’. And Mike also – poured the coffee (the maid, it seems, suddenly to her fortune had the night off”.
“You are washing the cups!” says the Pianist.
“Why are you washing the cups?” – “What have you done!”
“What do you mean. I am washing the cups because…”
“You washed the cups that night too!”
And it is all true. It is reconstructed. And the young girl is getting sleepy at the wheel, and crashes the car, with the son beside her. But they are OK. The Pianist gets the call. “Are they dead?” asks Mika. “No”, he says, “you were unlucky this time.” He is not angry, but now he knows all, and Mika admits it. “I am nothing” she says – not artist, not drivin. “But you have helped me so much” the Pianist says – a humane and thoughtful man. “Yes, always others. I say ‘I love you’ but I do not love. Everything for me is so calculated.”
So we have our brilliant and subtle psychological model. She is obsessed with the possession of her husband. The attraction of her friend, his wife, was unbearable, as is the connection to the young girl. She is fond of his son, who is likewise directionless. She destroys the wife, and it seems is keeping the son drugged regularly. Perhaps she preserves his lack of ambition in this way. They must be like her, or belong to her.
But – and here is the interesting part – she is not really evil as some would think of it. She is pathetically evil, tragic and flawed. She is calculating but not in intention — only in action! Quite a model, quite a film.
Filed under: 1950's, Bresson, Robert, Cinematheque, French, Uncategorized
Robert Bresson
France 1959 BW
Disappointing film. Loosely and poorly based on Crime and Punishment. Plot bad – filmmaking worse.
Horrible trait of presenting the characters on screen and than narrating all their actions and thoughts, rather than allowing the scenes to present themselves (in the first person). Thus he stands: thoughts are narrated. He walks: the narrator describes where he is going. He goes to the racetrack: the film contains not a single shot of a racing horse.
Fortunately the film forgets Dostoevsky at some points, forgets to be clever, and produces some rather effective and exciting scenes of various pick-pocketing methods, in particular in very clever sequences with three pickpockets working together. These scenes are what must account for the status and description of this as a remarkable film. I have seen worse – I have seen far better.
