Curious, Bittersweet Button

David Fincher, the director of such dark and disturbing fare as Seven, Fight Club, and Zodiac has taken an unexpected and beautifully structured turn in his new film The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. By now, most are aware of the plot and special effects miracles that power much of this fantastic tale, but they may not be ready for a film of such tender feelings and bittersweet meetings and partings. When a New Orleans mother dies in childbirth, her husband, recoiling at their newborn, takes the infant to an old folks home where the gentle young matron raises him. The child has been born as wizened old man and as the years go by, he becomes younger. Since he is in a place where mortality is omnipresent, he learns the value of love and loss. Eventually he goes to sea, stays in Russia where he has an impassioned affair with an English diplomat's wife, fights in World War II, and returns to New Orleans, a strapping milddeaged Brad Pitt. It is here in the middle of the film that he and his childhood friend Daisy reunite and eventually fulfill the love they have kept suppressed over the years. Daisy, the least developed of the film's characters, is played by Kate Blanchett, who somehow seems too alive, too "emotive" for this dreamlike film. Nevertheless, Pitt, now close to his own age of 44, gives these scenes a pathos rarely seen in his previous films. There is none of the snarkiness or cool detachment of films like Fight Club. Instead, there is a constant longing and sadness in those big blue eyes.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is filmed in beautiful shades of sepia, blue-gray, and occasionally bursts of old style movie color. Only rarely does Fincher allow symbolism to get in the way of the pervading melancholy that lifts this film from the ordinary picaresque adventure. Unlike Forrest Gump, written by the same screenwriter, this film does not push comedy and gushy sentimentality. Instead, like Pitt's measured and subtle performance, Benjamin Button maintains a balance of masterful storytelling with an ambience of sadness for people and places loved and lost, such as old New Orleans. How interesting it must have been for Pitt to watch his life in reverse at the very time that his golden boy image is giving way to a maturing adult.

It's December Already?!

I am still basking in the glory of Obama's stunning victory. Like many Americans, my wife and I, as well as my daughters and their children, hit the road for the ticket and were happily rewarded as was America. Betsy and I canvassed a neighborhood here in Rome to see if folks needed rides. We also went to a telephone party where we talked to volunteers in Colorado. They couldn't believe Georgians were calling them. Our three grandchildren--8, 6, and 1--hit the streets in Pittsburgh, PA both before and after the primaries. In the spirit of unity, the Clinton folks campaigned just as hard for Obama as they had for Hilary.
And on election day we got a call around 6 p.m from a girl in northwest Rome. It seems she had registered on the other far side of town, so we hustled out past Mt. Berry and found her with her four small children, including one 3 year old who was autistic. As we raced to beat the 7 o'clock poll closing, she told us that she was voting for Obama because he understood poor people like her. This was one of those moments that will stay with us. No, Obama didn't win Georgia, but he won her heart and many more like hers. We know that know human being can live up to the expectations heaped on the president-elect's back, but we hope he knows that we are with him for the long haul.

Mr. Smith, Mr. Obama, and Mr. McCain

Frank Capra's classic 1939 civics lesson Mr. Smith Goes to Washington seems as relevant today as it did just before World War II. Jefferson Smith, a naive boy scout leader from an unnamed mid-western state, is appointed to the U.S. Senate to be a tool of a corrupt political machine. Jeff's patriotic illusions are shot down by the press, the senate, his secretary, and even his mentor, the Silver Knight, Senator Paine. Once his secretary sees the light (read, falls in love with Smith), he smights the machine and cleans up Washington. Even in 1939 this was a fantasy. Today it is an absurd notion.
Parallets between Jimmy Stewart's "golly-gee" idealist Jeff Smith and Barack Obama, an attractive, smiling, intellectual but practical idealist are easy to sniff out, but Obama is no Jeff Smith. He's a shrewd politician who also happens to have ideas and ideals that may help our country in its time of crisis. Comparing Senator Paine to John McCain also seems too facile, but it is irresistable. Paine is a respected member of the old guard Senate who is being touted for the national ticket. Yet under his smooth veneer there is a man manipulated by forces he cannot control. He has lost his way and sold out to bigger interests. John McCain is a self-called maverick who has fought the Bush administration on some issues and condemned the extreme Christian right, but one would never know it now. In the fantasy of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, justice, tolerance, and freedom win out. How these values play out in 2008 will depend on whether voters want to believe in Smith's ideals or continue our current decline.

Governors and Community Organizers

Perhaps the lowest ebb at the GOP convention this year was Rudy Guiliani's condescending remarks comparing Sarah Palin's experience with that of Barack Obama. The former New York governor could not have been or elected nor could he have maintained control without community organizers, but perhaps his ego has forgotten that. Guiliani snidely remarked that Palin was a governor of a state while Obama was merely a "community organizer." He paused and waited for the audience to chime in with laughter and applause. He continued to ramrod his absurd comparison until he made certain that it would become a campaign touchstone. But most thinking people are not going to fall for such tactics. One has only to consider the source: a Democrat in GOP clothing who somehow deluded himself into thinking the conservative base would nominate and elect a pro-choice, anti-gun, gay favoring liberal. Of the three stooges at the convention, Guiliani outranks even Fred Thompson and Joe Lieberman.

Barack Obama's community organizing is typical of millions of Americans who care about their fellow citizens whether they are growing victory gardens that bring different social classes together, registering people to vote, teaching reading to illiterates or immigrants, or working for a closer community. After all, think of some of the great community organizers of the past--Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Jesus Christ. They didn't just govern. They made a difference.

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is the Cannes Film Festival winner from director Cristin Mungiu. It recreates the bleak period of suspicion and black markets in Romania just before the fall of its dictator Ceaucescu. With this background, the director chooses cinema verite to tell his story. There are no fancy cuts or even cross-cuts between the principal actors. The lighting is restrained at times or overlit at others. Most of the shots are medium shots of two people talking. Sounds grim, huh? That's just what the director wanted. This is the uncomplicated story of two roommates at college who seek out an abortionist. The more naive of the two has allowed her pregnancy to go on much too long (see title), and they are forced to use an unscrupulous pig of a man for the operation. Since this is against the law, the film builds suspense with the questions of whether or not they will be discovered and whether or not the operation will succeed. The director cleverly pits these two women against a number of men besides the abortionist. There is the roommate's boy friend who treats her roughly and calls it caring. There are the hotel employees who snicker at the women. The abortion itself is shown in detail, and the graphic shot of the fetus on the bathroom floor will linger in the viewer's memory. 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days is not for the squeamish, but it is a strong statement about dictatorships, both national and personal.

Dark and Light

Opening on the same day, Mama Mia! and The Dark Knight present two extreme attitudes about life and love in the modern world. Both are entertaining and both are drastically removed from reality. Christopher Nolan's uber-violent, humorless adventure grabs the viewer by the throat and doesn't let go for a full two hours and thirty minutes. Fueled by a ghoulish and artful performance by the late Heath Ledger as the Joker, the second of Nolan's Batman films is set in a modern Gotham that is obviously Chicago. Gleaming with modern pride, the city is rotting from within. Despite the efforts of the caped crusader and honest law officers, the city has fallen into the hands of the Joker. Some reviewers have called this epic the best of all the Batman movies, but they forget several qualities necessary for such praise, humor and the creation of an imaginary world that will enthrall viewers. The Dark Knight has little of either. Think back to Tim Burton's trippy Batman, in which Gotham City was freakish amusement park with Jack Nicholson's Joker conducting the mayhem. The incredible art deco sets matched with the decaying monuments of buildings provided a perfect setting for darkness and fun. The grand finale, with its allusions to Hunchback of Notre Dame and Phantom of the Opera, takes place in a crumbling Gothic cathedral that resembles Gaudi's Barcelona cathedral in its last stages. Burton and composer Danny Elfman create a world of dark beauty and funky fun while the composers for The Dark Knight provide too much bombast, sometimes so loud we can't hear the dialogue. Credit Nolan with great action sequences and a great cast, but his take on Batman lacks humor, music, and hope.

On the other extreme there is the new film version of Mama Mia! which offers a large cast of talented actors the chance to run amok on a dazzlingly beautiful Greek island. Almost anyone who breathes knows the music of the Swedish pop group ABBA, whether they want to or not. The infectious, sometimes infecting beat lifts the banal lyrics to almost operatic heights. Consider Meryl Streep as she belts out "The Winner Takes It All," to a non-plussed and almost non-singing Pierce Brosnan. The film version of the amazingly popular musical which is still running on Broadway and all over the world seems less clunky than the play. New dialogue and character dialogue give the slight story a humorous boost, and the cast has a ball with all the silliness. Streep, who may be a bit mature for a former free spirit and leader of a girls' Bangles-like group, gives her role the energy, joy, and even the sadness it needs while Christine Baranski almost steals the film as a randy divorcee. When the group belts out "Dancing Queen" in their full glitter and boots regalia, only a thug from The Dark Knight could resist. The film also puts a new spin on the ancient Greek chorus, employing all the locals to comment on and participate in Streep's romantic dilemmas. Like Streep, they race around the island, dive into the sea, and dance the film away. You should too.

At the end of Casablanca, Rick assures Ilsa, "We'll always have Paris." What is it about the City of Lights that causes so many Americans to call it their favorite city? I first saw Paris the summer of my college graduation in 1961. I was alone , but the charm of the Left Bank, the museums, Notre Dame, and all the rest swept my gloom away. I was determined to return.

Finally in 1985, I came back with my wife, another Francophile, and our three daughters. We rented an apartment and spent a month living the Parisian life, or at least our version. Each day, we would walk down to the market and get French bread for breakfast. After that, we would stuff our bag with sandwiches and head out for our highlight of the day. Whether it was a glass factory, the Goblein tapestry museum, an intimate museum such as the Musee Moureau, or an afternoon at the Tulieries Gardens, we never got tired because we had the time to relax. At lunch we would eat our picnic lunch and in the afternoon we would head back to our apartment via the same street--the one with the ice cream shop with every imaginable flavor. The proprietors came to know our favorites, especially that of our youngest daughter Kristin, chocolat. So for a magical month of July we bought a good bottle of vin rouge for 10 francs or a dollar, delicious cheeses and pastries, and daily ice cream. Instead of one trip to the Louvre, there were many. And, for the most part, nobody got tired.

Only two years later, I returned to Paris on a NEA grant for the Humanities to study Gothic art and architecture for 6 weeks. Our program was sponsored by Cornell. Each week we had lectures on the history, style, and importance of the Gothic movement, and then we hit the streets finding many superior examples close to my apartment on St. Germain, including the old St. Germain church itself, Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, and many more. Every Wednesday we would head out to Chartres Cathedral, where Malcom Miller, the noted Chartres expert would concentrate on several aspects that most tourists never see. The most thrilling were walking among the rafters beneath the nave roof, where one mistake could send you topling down towards lower ceiling, and walking outside along the nave towards the towers as well as climbing up inside the towers. In my down time I ran in the Tulieries or sunned and read in the Luxembourg Gardens. All were in walking distance from my 6th floor apartment. I have never been in as good shape as I was that summer, especially since there was no elevator to get to my room. I did make some interesting friends in the study group and we often went out to eat or see a concert, but I was relieved when Betsy came for a week and when my parents and my sister came as well later. That six weeks in Paris was the most intense and delightful time since the earlier 4 weeks in 1985.

In 1989 my wife, youngest daughter, and I joined a group of Darlington students and parents for a tour of Paris and the Loire Valley, among other sites. It was not our most endearing trip. At the very end, some of the students got smashed and the teacher/escorts were held responsible, even though some of the offenders' parents were there. Needless to say, bad feelings ensued. It would take several years before we took a student tour again.

Now it is 2008, much too long a time span to be away from Paris. On this trip, my wife and I joined our oldest daughter Cat, her husband Chris, and our two grandsons Jay, 8, and Graham, 6, for 3 days in Paris and 7 in and around the Pyrenees. More on this trip next time.

Two recent DVD releases deserve the attention of any serious movie buff. They are both films that deal with darkness of the soul, but one is depressing while the other is highly entertaining. Let's start with THE ORPHANAGE, a follow-up to the brilliant PAN'S LABYRINTH from last year. This time the Spanish director is the producer, but his style and interests are evident everywhere from the riveting tracking shots through the old mansion where the action takes place to the lead actress's painfully empathetic performance as a mother seeking a lost child. Did I say this was entertaining? You bet! The film owes much of its impact to Hitchcock mysteries but particularly to films like THE INNOCENTS(with a beautifully etched performance by Deborah Kerr), an early 1960's version of Henry James' THE TURN OF THE SCREW. Both films explore the neuroses, desires, and maternal instincts of women on the edge.

The second film is IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH, another of the numerous Iraq-based films that has failed to find an audience in the U.S. The disconnect between what is happening in that god-forsaken country and how we live here is laid bare in this strong drama about a father attempting to discover the truth about his son's death on a military base. Tommy Lee Jones delivers one of his most searing and understated performances. He is ably supported by Susan Sarandon as his wife and a number of young actors, some of whom are Iraq veterans, as members of his son's squad. IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH questions not only why we are in Iraq but what this war has done to our young men and women physically, morally, and psychologically. When will we wake up as a nation? That's what this film wants to know!

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Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy summer!

The onslaught of summer movie blockbusters is meant to stun us, knock us to the ground, and grind our critical responses to pulp. And sometimes that happens. Consider the latest three powerhouse features, eliminating the flashy and empty SPEED RACER. First out of the block was the refreshingly bracing IRON MAN, another comic book pumped up for the screen. Though it has its young male requirements of explosions, gadgetry, and speed, this tale also features a new type of hero--a spoiled, brilliant billionaire inventor who finds his soul when he is captured by terrorists in a country whose name ends in "stan." Realizing that he is responsible for much of the world's destruction, our hero creates an incredible iron suit with every gadget possible, and some of the most entertaining scenes show his awkward attempts to make his new suit take off. Robert Downey, Jr., an actor of great ability and tons of personal baggage, is the perfect choice for our inventor. His cynicsm and lack of commitment are a perfect balance for all the heroics he must perform as Iron Man. Gwynneth Paltrow as his trusty and loving assistant and Jeff Bridges as his smarmy and untrustworthy second in command play their parts with no tongue in cheek, making them even more fun.

PRINCE CASPIAN, the second of the Narnia films, is far more serious and action-packed than the first installment. The Pivensey children are still charming in their clipped, no-nonsense English way, but the choice for Prince Caspian is a toss-up. He is fine for the teen girls, but in the novel he is 13. Here he is at least 20, so he seems out of sync with the kids on screen, especially when he attempts his serious lines with any emotion. One moment reminds us why the first episode was more fun: the return of the Ice Queen, played again by Oscar winner Tilda Swinton. Sheathed in icy white make-up and encased in a sculptured ice tomb, Swinton provides the movie with its most delicious moment. We almost hope the Prince will take her offer. Instead we have to sit through endless battles (at least they are bloodless) before order is restored to Narnia.

INDIANA JONES AND THE SEARCH FOR THE CRYSTAL SKULL comes 19 years after the third installment of the popular series. Some critics have carped over its lack of inventiveness, but I found it thoroughly entertaining. Why? Because Spielberg has brought two wonderful women to the show, and they practically steal it. Karen Allen, whose spunky, hard-drinking
Marion in the original RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, again provides a romantic foil for Jones, while taking much of the heroics. As the villainous Communist leader, Kate Blanchett, sporting a severe black page boy wig, opts for the kind of villain seen in 1930's serials like FLASH GORDON, all steel and party line. The action includes a fencing match between Blanchett and Jones' sidekick Shia LeBouef astride two speeding jeeps in the jungle and a motorcycle chase through the Yale campus. The ending may be a bit hokey, but with our interest in THE X-FILES (spoiler alert) it works, as does most of the film.

Tell it like it is and LOSE.

The latest flak in the Clinton-Obama race to defeat comes with Obama's unjudged remarks about Pennsylvania voters (and in extension, all working class voters). He suggested this weekend that these blue collar voters are "bitter" because jobs are gone, factories closed, and times are hard. In that bitterness they have retreated to religion, guns, and anti-immigration. Of course, he forgot to mention gay marriage, among other working class fears. Now, have I dropped enough verbal land mines for you? When you use terms like "elite," "working class," and "blue collar," you don't stand a chance. Some will damn you for "elitism." Some will charge you with insensitivity to those who should be equal. Here's the corker, gang. Barack Obama has said what happens to be true in many cases. No one can speak for everyone in a group, but what Obama says has so much truth that it hurts. And it hurts his political chances. We know that some people entrench themselves in religion, the past, their right to wave guns, and their fear of anything different. Obama has suggested that with his comments. But his political correctness could be his undoing in the long run.

I Promise not to drink when I bring my gun to Denny's

As much as I love the state of Georgia, sometimes it becomes almost impossible. Our state legislature closed its latest comedy club or session with a new law that enables one to pack heat in a public restaurant or stadium. Now let's see, I'm a rabid Braves fan and I think the ump has gone to far for the last time. Or I am really scorched by this loudmouth in the booth behind me who keeps extolling Bush's leadership abilities. Instead of shamefully sneaking away, I can just pull my automatic and put an end to the problem. Justifiable homicide? You tell me. There is one caveat with this liberating law, and that is that you must promise NOT TO DRINK in a public place while packing heat. So I'm going to the Road House in the north Georgia hills, and I ain't packin' heat?! C'mon, dude.

Spring and the Future

Is April the cruelest month, as the poet said? I doubt it when I look at the dogwoods, cherry trees, weeping cherries, daffodils, sweet williams and budding roses. Yes, despite Georgia's drought, much of nature is coming back and making us grateful for spring's rebirth. As I sit here swooning to the Love/Death music from Tristan and Isolde, I am almost able to forget the miserable way our beloved Democrat party is shooting itself in the foot once again. With so many able candidates and a lame GOP candidate, is it possible or even probable that we will lose again? Actually, I don't think so. But let us hope that Hilary, Obama, and the secret forces that run these things can get this mess behind us so we can unite and win back this country from the neo-cons, the right-wing nuts, the hawks, the contractors, the fundamental "Christianists" and all the other kooks that are tearing us apart. Yes, Spring is a time of rebirth and hope, but it also a time for work!

Odds and Ends, mostly odds

I have been watching a recording of the Met's recent version of Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel. The singing, particularly the two female leads, is magnificent as is the orchestra. However, the set and overall design is creative mess. For some odd reason, the designer or director decided to modernize the German fairy tale. It's now in English, which works well, but it's also contemporary. When the witch mixes up batter, she uses a mix master. Now the witch is an obvious drag queen, complete with hairy arms and fake bosoms. Try as they might, the Met cannot pull this one off. The walking trees and giant-headed chefs seem arbitrary, and the scene at the witch's kitchen is downright ghoulish like a meat pie from Sweeney Todd.

Another odd note is 10,000 Years B.C. Since it has no connection to pre-history or any period, we tend to forgive its goofiness. Our pre-historic hero and heroine are squeaky clean with teeth out of Crest commercial. There's some kind of giant chicken who reminds us of old films with such creatures. At the end we are robbing Apocalypto and Conan the Barbarian with a giant sacrificial pyramid, slaves with lime on their faces, and effete priests, all succumbing to our hero's leadership skills. Despite all this silliness, this is a fun, fast-moving adventure that never quits.

There will be tedium.

It's a dark, gloomy, rainy afternoon in Georgia, and my thoughts turn to the gloomy state of movies I have seen recently. Perhaps the gloomiest is the highly overrated THERE WILL BE BLOOD, which moves at a leaden pace and tries to mix two combustible substances, oil and religion. Paul Anderson's take on American capitalism synchs easily with other movie critiques such as Oliver Stone's WALL STREET and his own much more interesting MAGNOLIA. Anderson seems to think that a movie with almost no dialogue for the first 20 minutes, a movie with no women to speak of, and a movie that holds the camera on an overlit wide-angle shot of star Daniel Day-Lewis makes great drama. The pay-off is minimal, especially since Day-Lewis's character is saddled with a silent (before and after his accident) son and a strangely uncharismatic preacher. Both these conflicts finally come to a boil in the last 20 minuntes of the film, but by that time, we, like the three combatants, are exhausted. Day-Lewis, an actor of towering talent, reminds me of Laurence Olivier, who could charm and bluster his way through roles or create memorable characters. In this case, Day-Lewis is the former.

Ken Doll drops the ball and other cultural oddities.

After squandering over $35 million of his own hard-earned bucks, Mitt Romney has had to face a shocking reality. Good looks and money can't buy you love. The slick, plastic optimist simply did not connect with Republicans in these difficult times, while the straight, non-flipping and war-seasoned McCain has won the hearts of moderates and some independents. And what to make of the born agains and gay bashers. They seem to be in a perpetual disarray with no George Bush to assuage their fears. Hopefully all of these events will speed a Democratic victory in November. Whether Hillary or Obama or both, the current regime will be gone. But will their legacy completely destroy any hopes of recovery? Let us hope not.

Have you noticed that three of the best films from 2007 have psychopaths as main or important characters? And we are not talking about SAW III. Sweeney Todd is hell-bent on revenge, Daniel in THERE MUST BE BLOOD is hell-bent on being the number one oil baron, and the Javier Barden killer in NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN is simply hell-bent on anything that moves. The latter seems a more realistic incarnation of the Mad Dog From Hell in the Coen Brothers' classic RAISING ARIZONA. But these days the farcial highjinks of their earlier films are gone. People aren't laughing at many or any movies now.

Heath Ledger and the Sensitive Actor

The death of Aussie actor Heath Ledger has a familiar and sad ring to it. Ledger has established himself as an actor of depth and range. One has only to compare his roles in BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN and CASANOVA as proof. As the reluctant gay cowboy in Ang Lee's heartbreakingly honest film, Ledger gave his finest and most wrenching performance. As Casanova, Ledger underplayed the famous roue and gave the character a winning sympathy the real Casanova probably doesn't deserve.
One thinks of other troubled but promising young actors--River Phoenix, Sal Mineo, and, especially Montgomery Clift. Clift gave a series of brilliant performances that seemed wrenched from his tortured personal life: FROM HERE TO ETERNITY, RED RIVER, and A PLACE IN THE SUN. Though Clift lived longer than Ledger and the others, he basically died when he crashed his car during the filming of RAINTREE COUNTY. He was never the same again.
No matter what the circumstances of their deaths, these young actors lived in a time when sensitivity and self-expression are more and more difficult.