A.I.: Artificial Intelligence

May 15, 2010

A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (2001) ***1/2
Directed by Steven Spielberg

I'm a high school teacher, and one of the courses I teach is Honors Introduction to Philosophy. When we discuss the concept of what makes a "self," I show the first hour of A.I., and when the students, who are usually completely engrossed in the film by the time we see young David's face in the rear view mirror of Monica's car, ask why we can't watch the whole movie, I tell them that its completely overblown second half leads to one of the stupidest endings of any film I've ever seen. Since first viewing A.I. in the theater in 2001 when I ultimately didn't respond positively to its narrative conceit, I've grown to respect its best moments despite the fact that the storyline truly can't support its ambitions.

Stanley Kubrick had planned this film for twelve years, and he personally chose Steven Spielberg to direct before dying in 1999. The whole first hour feels eerily Kubrickian with shots that look like they belong alongside moments from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Rumor has it that Kubrick didn't know how to end the film, and Spielberg took it upon himself to conceptualize and execute the final sequence beginning at the bottom of the ocean and ending with David and Monica in the bedroom. Perhaps this is apocryphal, but it makes sense considering that Spielberg's sensibilities tend towards overeager science fiction. The story of a robot boy made to last forever and programmed only to love one person who is inevitably going to abandon him contains with it a sense of emotional intimacy and desperation. As such, Spielberg's bombastic, futuristic conclusion involving creatures that look like they're right out of the storyboards of Close Encounters of the Third Kind feel completely inappropriate to the tone of everything that proceeds.

All that being said, A.I.'s first hour never ceases to absolutely blow me away with its compelling philosophical conundrums and its gorgeous visual interplay between the future and the 1970s. Hayley Joel Osment plays the boy robot named David, and he gives one of the great child performances in film history. The film's second act involving an excellent Jude Law as a sex robot called Gigolo Joe contains a bit too many chase scenes, and the flesh fair sequence may be conceptually interesting as a kind of KKK rally but it's executed poorly.

A.I.: Artificial Intelligence is best when it intimately explores ethical questions about man's responsibilities towards his own creation. When Spielberg indulges his obsession with film making technology, the result is hit or miss. At its best, A.I. is a work of pure genius; however, at its worst, which includes a conclusion I just can't bring myself to allow my students to watch, A.I. sort of sucks. Still, though, if one goes into the film allowing for its unevenness, A.I. does prove itself to be worthy of repeated viewings.

A Week in the Life of a Film Geek (May 10-16, 2010)

A Week in the Life of a Film Geek (May 10-16, 2010)

His Girl Friday (1940) ****
Directed by Howard Hawks

My tweet:

His Girl Friday (1940)- Nonstop energy along with Rosalind Russell's brilliant acting help make this dark screwball comedy work. **** of 5

Other thoughts:

Just once in my life, I want to participate in the kind of banter heard throughout His Girl Friday, a screwball comedy that's light on the screwball but heavy on intelligence. The back and forth dialogue of this 1940 classic helped to invent a more realistic style of movie conversation where characters are willing to talk over each other and not wait for one person to finish talking before speaking their next line. It could be argued that we wouldn't have the mumblecore movement today without the early influence of His Girl Friday.

The film does suffer from what I call "one room play adaptation syndrome." When plays with settings limited to one or two rooms are translated into films, the product tends to feel visually stifled--see Butterflies Are Free as a later example. His Girl Friday's two extended sequences take place in an office in a newspaper company and in a meeting room for the press which neighbors the city courthouse. There are short scenes that take place in a restaurant and a prison, but these moments come and go way too quickly. If only the film's locations could have been as dynamic as its dialogue, then the momentum would have really been something to behold. Instead, the whole thing feels a bit like ultra-caffeinated people are locked inside of a room and are almost begging to be freed in order to release their pent up energy.

Rosalind Russell absolutely steals every scene she's in as Hildy Johnson, a former reporter who's looking forward to getting married to insurance salesman Bruce Baldwin (Ralph Bellamy) and live a life as a "normal woman." This frustrates newspaper editor Walter Burns, played adequately by Cary Grant in a performance I wouldn't call one of his best, for two reasons. First of all, Hildy's a truly excellent reporter, but also, more importantly, she's Walter's ex-wife with whom he wouldn't mind reuniting. Walter schemes in order to get Hildy to agree to cover one final story, and from there, things get completely out of control. Though much of the film is played for laughs, there's an undertone of corruption, injustice and scandal which adds an element of frustration and a shade of darkness to the whole ordeal. I'd argue with anyone who calls His Girl Friday a light comedy.

I've recently come across They Shoot Pictures Don't They's Top 1000 Films list which you can see here. They call His Girl Friday the 106th greatest film of all time, above such masterpieces as The Grapes of Wrath and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Though it's a solid film which everyone should see, I do not believe it belongs in the company of such nearly perfect classics. Maybe voters focused on Russell's performance and the innovation of the dialogue. If so, then I suppose I can at least respect the film's ranking even if I don't think it belongs anywhere near the top 100.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2010) **
Directed by Niels Arden Oplev

My tweet:

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2010)- Novels take hours/days to read. Why inflexibly stuff EVERY DETAIL into 150 minutes? Absurd. ** of 5

Other thoughts:

Sometimes there's nothing better than curling up with a good book and immersing oneself so very deep inside the world inhabited within hundreds upon hundreds of pages. Books are better than movies at ascribing precise detail through its rich prose which has the ability to wash over the reader until submerged into a plot containing familiar characters, some of whom, albeit temporarily, become our closest friends and others our worst enemies. The best books are the hardest to put down. Everyone who enjoys reading knows that feeling of betrayal and borderline depression which occurs when an especially riveting book or series of books ends with the final words on the very last page.

From everything I've heard, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is one of these very books. It's become an international best seller, and not since The DaVinci Code have I had so many different people recommend that I read a single book. The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo couldn't have become a sensation by accident. Certainly something has connected with so many readers all over the world.

Perhaps this very success is the reason why the Swedish film version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is such a misfire. For 150 minutes, I wasn't watching a movie as much as I was watching a book slavishly transposed to the screen. From its first 45 minutes of non-stop character exposition through its twisty second act involving an investigation of brutal sex crimes and murders to its conclusion after conclusion after conclusion, I felt as I was watching that I could easily mark in the screenplay precisely where every corresponding chapter in the book began and ended.

Novels absolutely must be adapted if they are going to be made into autonomous films, no matter how popular. Novels take hours, often days, to read from cover to cover. A quintuple homicide, which is the investigation at the center of the book/film, is easy to spread out over a number of chapters. Here, it seems the investigations are solved before we even realize that the investigations have begun. Whole chunks feel painfully rushed, while character expositions and conclusions are tediously drawn out. From a standpoint of pure pacing, the murders are solved before they should have been solved and the movie doesn't end until well after it ought to have ended.

Our two main characters are a reporter named Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) and a bisexual goth computer hacker named Lisbeth (Noomi Rapace). The film takes its time introducing us to these protagonists who meet after Lisbeth hacks into Blomkvist's computer. He's a reporter who's about to go to jail on libel charges after attempting to expose a powerful executive. Awaiting his jail sentence, he's got nothing better to do than answer a phone request to visit a house he used to frequent as a little boy where he begins an investigation concerning the disappearance of a 16 year old girl forty years prior.

Meanwhile, Lisbeth, who happens to be the girl with a dragon tattoo, has her own problems to put it mildly. She's a freed convict being sexually assaulted by her new state-appointed guardian. Sounds pretty awful right? Makes you angry, huh? Well, just in case the idea isn't enough to boil your blood, the film shows us a rape scene that is gratuitously brutal, followed by a revenge spectacle that puts the rape scene to shame. The profound problem with these two shocking sequences is that neither is necessary at all. Personally, the implication that a sexual assault has taken place would have been enough to get me on board with the motivations of Lisbeth without the lingering sadism. I imagine that Oplev's goal was to bring the brutality written on the printed page to life; however, he forgot the fact that, no matter how explicit words are on a page, readers picture things in their minds based on what they choose to dwell on or ignore. In a movie, these choices are taken away, and the result here is a nasty little pair of scenes which detract from everything that comes before and leaves a putrid stench on everything that follows.

Yes, the plot about a serial killer murdering young women is bound to make for a disturbing film. The rest of the movie's graphic, grisly violence does not pull focus from either the mystery or the character development. Sadly, though, both the mystery and the characters play out as they would in a novel, and the result is something less than cinematic. Too bad since there's a potentially satisfying mystery/thriller at the film's core. If this sort of thing is your cup of tea, then keep going past the movie theater and don't stop until you get to a bookstore--at least that's what people keep telling me.

A Week in the Life of a Film Geek (May 3-9, 2010)

A Week in the Life of a Film Geek (May 3-9, 2010)

Life of Brian (1979) ***1/2
Directed by Terry Jones

My tweet:

Life of Brian (1979)- Anarchy of Monty Python doesn't fit well into a conventional narrative--still moments of pure genius. ***1/2 of 5

Other thoughts:

I'll never forget that early Saturday morning two years ago when I sat down to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail as part of my Iconic Irreverent Comedies Marathon. After the overly precious The Dentist on the Job bit at the very beginning, which didn't charm me at all, I laughed nonstop, and once the credits rolled following the most randomly brilliant ending, I declared it to be the funniest comedy I've ever seen. Nothing since has taken that title away.

Life of Brian contains single moments and ideas that equal the brilliance and success of Holy Grail, but sadly, its plot about a man born the same day as Jesus who ends up living a sort of parallel life as he journeys to find himself stifles the anarchy and the chaotic energy on which Monty Python thrives. I wanted less chase scenes and marginally funny predictable banter and more moments like the one when Brian falls off the roof of the temple and is caught by a flying vehicle of some kind (I don't want to spoil the best joke in the movie).

There are certainly enough laughs to make Life of Brian hold up for repeated viewings, and the iconic final scene involving crucifixion victims singing, "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life," may be one of the funniest endings ever; however, with the Monty Python moniker, I was hoping for another great cinematic experience with Life of Brian. Because of unreasonable expectations, I set myself up for disappointment despite the fact that this movie is solid overall. In the future, with Monty Python films I've yet to see like Meaning of Life and Now for Something Completely Different, my need for such transcendent hilarity has been tempered. Why would I want to set movies up to let me down? After all... (music begins)

The Lost Weekend (1945) ***
Directed by Billy Wilder

My tweet:

The Lost Weekend (1945)- I applaud its intentions and its unflinching commitment, but Reefer Madness-like camp weighs heavy. *** out of 5

Other thoughts:

And the Academy Award for Best Picture goes to... a movie that undoubtedly felt fresh and edgy in 1945, but today, it's painfully dated, ridiculously overblown and almost comically campy at times. It tells the story of alcoholic Don Birnam, played by Ray Milland in an Oscar winning performance, a singularly talented writer who started drinking when his first few attempts at professional writing did not turn out as expected. Things escalated out of control when he meets Time magazine writer Helen St. James, played by Jane Wyman, an upper class socialite with picky parents who demand someone successful for their daughter.

It's been three years since Don and Helen met outside the coat check room of an opera house, and Don's buttoned up brother Wick, played by Phillip Terry, suggests that they go on a weekend getaway in order to help Don in his latest attempt to turn sober and perhaps to begin the novel he's always wanted to write. Though both Helen and Wick are used to Don's nonstop drinking, they still give him the benefit of the doubt when they let him stay home alone before they're meant to catch the evening train. Predictably, Don goes out and gets hammered, thus beginning the weekend when Don finally hits rock bottom.

So begins Filmspotting's Billy Wilder marathon, which will include one of my all-time favorite movies, Sunset Blvd., along with the much lauded Some Like It Hot, which did not do too much for me the first time I saw it. I look forward to checking it out again. Knowing nothing at all about The Lost Weekend other than its director, I was looking forward to sitting down and watching what I presumed might be a light, entertaining comedy. Instead, from its tragically sad and uncomfortable opening scene where Don is discovered hiding a bottle of whiskey to its conclusion involving a gun and Don's desire to end his life, The Lost Weekend was a tough, sobering sit, unflinchingly showcasing a man's losing battle with some profound inner demons.

Ray Milland is absolutely brilliant in a no-holds-barred, risky performance which many warned would ruin his career if he chose to take the part. Milland is a handsome man in real life, but he's unspeakably ugly at times as Don Birnham, never afraid to illicit hatred, disgust and frustration from the audience. He's surrounded by a solid supporting cast, and Wilder's direction is almost dizzying in its aggressiveness, often keeping the viewing off balance in order to connect us with Don's state of mind. There's a brilliant scene at the opera when the performers sing a song while toasting their drinks which teases Don to the point where the dancers turn into disembodied rain coats reminding him that he stored a bottle of whiskey in his coat pocket. Unfortunately, this level of narrative flourish does not work so well when Don begins to hallucinate one night after an especially violent binge. There's a scene with a mouse and a bat that is meant to be the stuff of nightmares, but instead, it's hard to watch without completely laughing out loud. First of all, I'm pretty sure alcohol isn't a hallucinogenic drug. As such, this scene comes dangerously close to the camp seen in a film like Reefer Madness. Second, as the nurse at the institution for alcoholics makes clear, these hallucinations are common during detox. Don had this particular hallucination while he was drunk as anything. Not only is this scene pathetically corny, it's also completely unfounded in more ways than one. I'm sure critics and audiences alike were blown away by the audacity and horror of the scene in 1945, but 65 years later, that sequence couldn't be more dated.

The Lost Weekend doesn't quite stand the test of time, though it's undeniably brutal in its portrayal of alcoholism. There have been countless films since which deal with addiction in a more realistic way such as When a Man Loves a Woman, Bad Lieutenant and Leaving Las Vegas. Yet, those films owe a lot to the courage of all involved in The Lost Weekend since that opened the door to allow this subject matter to be fodder for mainstream Hollywood fare. It earns my respect for that alone, despite moments that can only be described as downright stupid.

The Secret in their Eyes (2010) ****1/2
Directed by Juan Jose Campanella

My tweet:

The Secret in their Eyes- A film about a story within a novel. Novel's story is cheesy, but the film about it is sly and smart. ****1/2 of 5

Other thoughts:

The Secret in their Eyes, the surprise Foreign Film Oscar winner at this year's Academy Awards beating out Michael Haneke's odds-on-favorite The White Ribbon, is an excellent film. It's wonderfully directed and impeccably well acted. Yet, the main reasons why I enjoyed this film so much seem quite different from lots of other critics. I believe that Campanella's screenplay, based on the novel by Eduardo Sacheri, plays around with the theme of subjective storytelling, and as such, audiences ought to keep in mind that the events we witness on screen are being filtered through one man's attempt at a novel. By definition, a novel is categorized as a fictional narrative. Therefore, some of the pieces in the story may very well have been fabricated altogether in order to make for a more interesting read.

It's this play on narrative and meta-narrative that I personally found extremely satisfying. If the story itself is meant to be taken on its surface, literal level, where some critics seem to be judging this film, then the whole thing comes off like a cliched, ridiculous procedural, containing coincidences that shatter believability altogether. Take for example a pursuit of a suspect of a brutal rape and murder which takes place in a soccer stadium filled with tens of thousands of people. The criminal investigators' plan is to keep a lookout for the man whom they're supposed to recognize from a grainy black and white photo. They happen to find the man only rows from where they are staking themselves out. Later on, one criminal investigator bumps into the victim's husband at a train station. Another sequence involves two of the protagonists encountering a pardoned killer randomly in an elevator.

These silly details make me believe that this film is meant to be about a first time writer of a novel who happens to be a retired police investigator instead of being about the investigator as such. Maybe I'm reading too much into the film, ascribing a motive to Campanella and Sacheri that they never intended at all. If so, then I still stand by my glowing praise, because I really do think the film works on this meta-level, whether it be on purpose or by accident. The Secret in their Eyes is much more than a stylish, violent episode of Law and Order. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.