The Hustler/ The Color of Money

November 21, 2008

The Hustler (1961) *****

Directed by Robert Rossen

The Color of Money (1986) ***

Directed by Martin Scorsese

As I continue to watch Paul Newman act in film after film, I’m more and more becoming a huge fan. In both The Hustler and The Color of Money, Newman is so damn good, and he’s got unrivaled presence on screen. The Hustler is brilliant; The Color of Money isn’t. Yet, Newman is equally good in both films. Most view his only Oscar win as Best Actor in The Color of Money as a lifetime achievement award. General consensus is that his performance in The Color of Money isn’t among his best. I disagree—I think it’s right up there with his best work in films like Hud, Cool Hand Luke and The Hustler. By far, Newman’s performance is the best aspect of The Color of Money. The Academy got this one right, though this shouldn’t have been his first acting Oscar. I think everyone agrees with that.

In both films, Newman plays pool hustler Eddie Felson. In The Hustler, he starts out young and cocky. Sure, he’s got more talent than anyone else who plays the game, but he doesn’t know the code that goes along with being a champ. The opening scene involves Eddie conning some small town players out of their money on his way to play Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason), who is considered the greatest. At first, Eddie wins big against Minnesota Fats, but as night turns into day and back into night again, Eddie doesn’t know when to quit and loses all of his winnings and then some. By the end of this brilliantly tense matchup, Eddie is nothing but a stumbling drunken fool and he knows it.

He is now forced to live out of a locker at a train station where one night, he meets a lonely alcoholic named Sarah Packard, played wonderfully by Piper Laurie. The two fall in love and move in together, though each’s profound issues make their relationship quite difficult. Things go okay since they’ve got each other, and pretty much nothing else. Eventually, Eddie is given the opportunity to reestablish himself as a great pool player with the help of a heartless manager named Bert Gordon, played menacingly by George C. Scott. As Eddie gains success, Sarah begins to lose the one thing important to her. The film’s ending is profoundly tragic.

I certaintly can’t call myself an expert on its history, but I wouldn’t be surprised if The Hustler can be credited with beginning the genre of the modern biopic which includes films like Raging Bull and Ghandhi. Granted, Eddie Felson is a fictional character, but it shares quite a bit with these two great films. There’s no single narrative story which forwards the film’s plot. Instead, a person’s life is shown chronologically, advancing from conflict to conflict and ending with an ultimate judgement regarding everything that preceeds.

First, we have this great twenty-four hour pool match, and then we witness the sad relationship between Eddie and Sarah. Next, Eddie journeys back to success, and finally, the film ends with profound tragedy. Screenplay writers Sidney Carroll and Robert Rossen aren’t afraid to force the viewer to adapt to shifts in tone and momentum with each new conflict.

Rossen’s direction must be applauded for many reasons. Most of all, I thought it was smart that he didn’t spend too much time focusing on the billiards games themselves. Clearly, Eddie and Minnesota are supposed to be the best in the world at pool, and obviously Newman and Gleason don’t have the skill their characters do. Therefore, the only pool we see are sporadic single shots or short edited sequences. Oh how I wish Scorsese followed Rossen’s lead regarding how to best showcase this sport.

The Color of Money has been described as a sequel to The Hustler. That’s not really accurate. Eddie’s an old man now who hasn’t played pool in a long time, so it’s not like the story continues anywhere near when the last one ended. In this film, Eddie takes on the role of coaching an exceptionally talented young pool player named Vincent Lauria, played by Tom Cruise. Vincent is talented, that’s for sure, but he’s extremely arrogant as well, not knowing the code that comes along with being a champ. Sound familiar? Anyway, it’s now Eddie’s turn to impart the wisdom he received from his own tragic life experiences.

Herein lies the best aspect of The Color of Money. Without explicitly referring to events in The Hustler, there’s a richness to Eddie’s character and Newman’s performance because we know the baggage Eddie carries around with him. Richard Price’s screenplay strikes the perfect balance in this regard.

After learning everything he needs to from Eddie, Vincent goes out on his own which leaves Eddie to fend for himself. Eddie is once again forced to play pool in a tournament, and the person he’s required to beat in the film’s final challenge is none other than Vincent himself. The ending goes in an unexpected direction, which overall works quite well.

That being said, The Color of Money is a good film at best, and compared to The Hustler, it’s extremely disappointing. The first problem lies with Tom Cruise’s performance--he’s simply trying too hard. Cruise certaintly has charisma which I suppose makes him the right choice for the part; however, in trying to match Newman’s talent which I believe was Cruise’s motivation, he falls flat. Cruise’s idea of great acting involves pumping up the adrenaline and accentuating his mannerisms. Sadly, it all comes off as bad acting precisely because it is bad acting. Not once did Cruise make an acting choice in The Color of Money which surprised me, and a few times, he made what I believe to be the wrong choice. For example, he stops smiling during a scene when Eddie non-chalantly points out the fact that Victor has some vulnerabilities as a pool player. Real life would have demanded that Victor laugh this off. Sure, he can be offended, but it wouldn’t have been as dramatic or obvious as Cruise made it out to be.

The other huge weakness in The Color of Money lies in Scorsese’s direction. He overdirects from beginning to end, with too many frenetic sequences of pool shots which come off false, manufactured, staged and arrogant. These sequences don’t show true billiard playing; instead, they're simply pretentious trick shots. Scorsese turns a competitive sport into amusement part entertainment. Maybe the idea is that rapid editing makes a sport that much more exciting. Unfortunately, with pool, rapid editing betrays the fact that these are actors who can’t play this sport at the level their characters need to, which I mentioned above. I understand that it’s impossible to shoot long sequences with unbroken takes. Instead, stand-ins are necessary, and Scorsese unwisely tries to compensate for this with quick editing tricks.

The Color of Money isn’t a bad film. It simply doesn’t work when viewed next to Newman’s greatest films, Scorsese’s greatest films and especially The Hustler, which is an absolute triumph. Final word, though, is that Newman is truly spectacular in both.

(Label Notes: The Hustler was nominated for Best Picture and is one of Roger Ebert's Great Movies)

Adaptation

November 21, 2008

Adaptation (2002) *****

Directed by Spike Jonze

I often begin my reviews with a process story, which means that I tell about my thoughts and experiences before, during and/or after watching a film. To put it another way, I begin by pointing out something that took place as I was processing the movie for a review. Adaptation starts out as a process story about Being John Malkovich writer Charlie Kaufman adapting a book into a screenplay. I’m not exactly sure if the beginning of this film mirrors real life, parodies it or if this is all pure fiction. Either way, it feels quite authentic—at first.

After Monty Python and the Holy Grail and About a Boy, Being John Malkovich is my favorite comedy of all time. Seeing this film when I was in high school was such a joy. It’s one of the few films from the last fifty years that can accurately be described as a true original in just about every way possible. Being John Malkovich is so out there that I can only imagine the pressure Kaufman must have been under to equal his success. Adaptation is a movie about this pressure and what would happen if Kaufman were to buckle under it.

It’s hard to talk about this movie’s plot because I don’t want to ruin this film for anyone that hasn’t seen it. All I will say is that Charlie and his brother (hmmm…) Donald, both of whom are credited for writing this film’s screenplay (hmmm…), are each working on separate screenplays within the film—Charlie’s is the adaptation mentioned above and Donald’s is a clichéd serial killer picture. Charlie’s successful because of Being John Malkovich, but he’s profoundly insecure, while Donald is self-assured and arrogant, thinking that a screenwriting seminar led by a hack named Robert McKee (Brian Cox) is all he needs to write a winning screenplay.

You’d think that each brother would be jealous of the other. Well, this is not the case. Charlie is certaintly envious of the way Donald carries himself, but Donald doesn’t seem to respect Charlie’s unique voice. Meanwhile, Meryl Streep plays Susan Orlean (a real person), the author of the book Charlie is adapting called The Orchid Thief (an actual book), who is nervous about having her book made into a film. In random flashback sequences, we see the process she goes through in order to write her book, which includes a series of meetings with a classless flower expert named John Laroche, played brilliantly by Chris Cooper who won an Oscar for this performance.

By the way, Charlie and Donald are identical twins, and both are played by Nicholas Cage. Eventually, the entire narrative of the film takes a profound, sudden turn in the middle of the film when Charlie asks for Donald’s assistance with his own adaptation. The last hour of this movie is so wonderfully trashy, corny and overblown—in other words, it’s absolutely perfect and so very appropriate.

There’s a gimmick in Adaptation that is profoundly risky, but it’s executed with such a smooth and organic transition that I’m awe-struck whenever I think about it. This movie is perfectly cast, and these actors look like they are having the time of their lives in this quirky, off the wall comedy/drama/thriller. Nicholas Cage is so damn good as the Kaufmans which makes me that much more frustrated by the fact that he seemingly can’t say no to any script that’s put in front of his face. Cage has been in some of the worst reviewed trash of the past decade including National Treasure, Next, Bangkok Dangerous (which would be my stage name if I was a pop singer) and The Wicker Man. It’s all too rare that he makes a film worthy of his talent like Leaving Las Vegas or The Weather Man (a film which I hated but at least it was trying to be something worth watching). There are moments in Adaptation where Cage has to act opposite himself, and considering that special effects were involved and that he had to do these scenes alone, he absolutely deserves all the praise he was given for his performance which included an Oscar nomination.

The whimsy in Adaptation is plentiful, but yet it’s surprisingly not aggressive. Further, Charlie’s self-pity is felt clearly without coming off as cloying, and the predictable facets during Adaptation’s final act are presented with an unexpected joy and intelligence. It’s for these and many other reasons that Adaptation is a masterpiece. Kaufman is one of the true geniuses working today in film. He’s certaintly out there, but his creativity has kept me surprised and satisfied unlike some other oddballs such as Michel Gondry and Gus Van Sant. These two at times have painted themselves into a corner. Gondry’s screenplays and direction have become unfocused since he made the brilliant Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Van Sant sometimes loses his voice altogether in such Hollywood mainstream films like Good Will Hunting and Psycho. I’ve yet to see Kaufman’s latest, Synecdoche, New York, which is his directorial debut, but as of now, in my opinion, Kaufman is still batting a thousand.

I’ll end my review with another process story. As I’ve said, Adaptation employs a brilliant narrative structure with a monster of a gimmick that is incorporated so seamlessly. The danger lies in the fact that the quality of this film has the potential to go over some viewers' heads upon first viewing, which may lead some to refuse to see it again, which I believe is absolutely necessary to truly appreciate its brilliance. This was the second time I saw Adaptation—the first time was in the theaters in 2002 right around Christmas with some friends of mine who are not afraid to hold onto their opinions so strongly that they dismiss anyone who disagrees with them. They are some of the smartest people I’ve ever met, but once we left the theater, they proclaimed this movie as stupid—end of discussion. I’ll admit that I wasn’t in love with it at the time either, but it intrigued me, and once I figured out the gimmick after thinking about it for a while, my affection for Adaptation began to grow after the fact. Now, six years later, I am adding Adaptation to the list of the 100 Greatest Films I’ve Seen. If you’ve never seen Adaptation, go out and rent it. Even if you hate it after first viewing, which is possible, return it to the video store and resolve to rent it again one or more years later. I promise that you will enjoy it better the second time around.

Broken Flowers

November 21, 2008

Broken Flowers (2005) ****1/2

Directed by Jim Jarmusch

Plot: After another in a lifelong string of breakups with interesting women, independently wealthy Don Johnson (Bill Murray) receives a cryptic, anonymous pink letter saying that he has a 19 year-old son who might be looking for him. With the encouragement of his mystery loving neighbor Winston (Jeffrey Wright), Don sets on a journey to surprise four different women that he was with two decades. One woman (Sharon Stone) with an oversexed daughter is happy to see him, while another (Francis Conroy) would prefer that he never reentered her life. Don then receives some unwelcomed psychoanalysis from the third woman (Jessica Lange) who is now a successful animal communicator (watch the film to learn what this is), and finally, he dons a black eye leaving the house of the fourth woman (Tilda Swinton), a biker chick. Winston suggests that he should look for clues when visiting each woman—most notably, to see if any show indication of liking the color pink to match the letter. Frustratingly, all four own pink things and none give Don a straight answer about a possible son. He returns home feeling dejected and confused--that is until he encounters a young drifter outside of a coffee shop who may or may not be his answer.

Review: My favorite guest starring voice-over on The Simpsons has to be Jim Jarmusch, director of Broken Flowers. The episode involves Lisa entering a biting documentary about her dysfunctional family ala Capturing the Friedmans into the Sundance Film Festival. It’s here that Jim Jarmusch voices a cartoon version of himself guiding Lisa to understand the rules and ethics involved in festival films. I think it’s absolutely admirable that the show decided to go all out and pick the right guy for this role even though most viewers probably know nothing about Jim Jarmusch nor his films.

When Chazz recommended Broken Flowers to me, I was thrilled that I’d finally be able to say that I’ve seen a Jarmusch film. Going onto imdb.com in order to check out what other films he’s directed, I was able to glimpse at this dude’s hair—it’s really quite something. Anyway, Broken Flowers absolutely has festival film written all over it, and so when I read that it won the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2005, I was not at all surprised.

Recently, I saw Bill Murray on Elvis Mitchell’s new interview show on Turner Classic Movies, and I’ve got to say that Murray seems like a total a-hole in real life; however, it can’t be denied that he’s one of the truly great comedic geniuses ever to grace the screen. This is confirmed once again by his pitch perfect performance in Broken Flowers. No one in film history is better with ultra-dry humor. I challenge anyone to watch Caddyshack, Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day and Broken Flowers back to back and disagree.

While I found the motivation for Don’s journey less than compelling (why didn’t he simply wait around to see if his son would turn up at his house like the letter said), I thought the journey itself was executed brilliantly. Jarmusch wonderfully interplays moments of over the top absurdity (the naked daughter, the animal communicator, the men at the biker’s house) with the most refreshing transitional sequences of ultrarealism usually involving Don simply driving with music playing in the background. Jarmusch strikes the perfect chord involving comedy and character study, which really makes Broken Flowers quite agreeable.

The film’s ending might frustrate some. At first, the encounter between Don and the young man feels totally unoriginal, and then something happens which ends the film in a messy way with no real answers. Personally, I felt challenged once the movie was over because it didn’t leave me with satisfying narrative conclusions. I’ll never fault a film for challenging me. Sure, I wanted to know whether or not I was correct in suspecting that his neighbor Wilson wrote the letter himself in order to get Don off of the couch in order to do something interesting for once. I’ll never know if I was right or not, and as such, I’ll always have been right, and I’ll always have been wrong as well. Jarmusch lets his audience decide. In my book, regarding Jim Jarmusch, I will now put down “great director” right next to “great cartoon character!”

American History X

November 16, 2008

American History X (1998) ****

Directed by Tony Kaye

Plot: High school student Danny Vinyard (Edward Furlong) idolizes his older brother Derek (Edward Norton) who has just been released from prison for murdering a young black man. Before his incarceration, Derek grew more fervent in his neo-Nazi beliefs, often spouting his hateful rhetoric in ways that hurt many members of his close family. Unfortunately, the impressionable young Danny continued to follow his brother’s bigoted lead during the three years they are apart. In prison, Derek sees the error of his ways, and now he must try and save Danny from his ideologies before one of them gets hurt… or worse.

Review: American History X is unarguably extreme in its portrayal of violent hatred. There’s a moment where Danny tells a teenage African-American to open his mouth and lay his teeth against the curb. What he does next is so awful that I had to cower and cover my eyes. Thankfully, the act itself isn’t shown, but even the implications are enough to turn your stomach. It’s this uncomfortable moment that exemplifies the profundity with which Kaye directs his film. Add in a brutal scene in a bathroom towards the conclusion, and what you get is a film that shows violence with strong power and immense meaning.

On the other hand, there are two scenes that don’t work at all, and if I remember correctly, both scenes take place at dinner tables. At the first table, Danny begins spewing such raw lines of prejudice that I could completely understand how someone would involuntarily wince hearing these sentiments for the first time delievered in that way. The problem lies in the fact that Danny is speaking these lines among his family members. It seems like they’re not used to hearing Danny speak this way. Perhaps it could be argued that this is the first time he shared his views around his family. Yet, this doesn’t hold up when you listen to how the lines are delivered. Danny is extremely well-versed in his arguments, and his tone is so full of deep-rooted hatred that it’s impossible to believe that he hasn’t felt this way for a long time and that he hasn’t been on a tirade like this one many times before. As effective as the scene is in showing the extremity of Danny’s views, it doesn’t ring true when viewed within the entire narrative. The second table scene takes place in a flashback with Danny and Derek’s father first sharing his openly racist ideologies with his son. Again, it looks as if this is the first anyone at that table has heard this stuff. Hatred and prejudice don’t first present themselves at a dinner table. Unless everyone in that family is unbelievably naïve or stupid, they wouldn’t have been so completely surprised.

Edward Norton has a reputation of being a control freak and being very diffcult to work with. Yet, he still gets jobs, and watching his Oscar nominated performance here, it’s clear why—he’s an absolutely amazing actor! In American History X, he must play a character that is at first menacing and evil and later compassionate and caring. He comes off so scary at the beginning of the film that I wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to pull of the reformed healer bit towards the end. He certaintly succeeds, as he does throughout this entire film.

Edward Furlong unfortunately has gone into the Where Are They Now? file folder. After his iconic role in Terminator 2, he had a chance to break out with his role here. Unfortunately, he probably forced himself to be typecasted from here on in as the troubled young punk, which he was both in Terminator 2 and American History X. This is all a real shame too, since Furlong is great in this film, never trying to overplay his timid role.

It’s hard to shake off the deep effects this film has on its viewers. American History X certaintly doesn’t hold back in its mission to unsettle and disturb. As such, this is an important movie to see because of the unique way it goes about teaching tolerance and compassion.