20 February 2005
MOVIE: TANNER ON TANNER (2004).
A failed Democratic presidential candidate is inspired to make another run by his daughter's struggle to film a documentary about him. Convoluted, I know, but it's exactly what you'd expect from Robert Altman and Garry Trudeau, who wrote and directed this episodic series of mockumentaries. Wait--didn't I just say "documentary"? Or was it "mockumentary"?
Both. Now, I normally love what Mr. Altman has to offer (The Player, The Long Goodbye, and oh, why not, Pret a Porter), but here he's at his absolute po-mo, coyly winking worst, and it's not just the tired device of A-list celebrity cameos (Scorcese, Redford, of the Sundance film festival--get it?) cropping up in naturalistic settings such as a fabulous New York bistro. It's really the whole structure of the work, which (to repeat) is filmed as a mockumentary about someone filming a documentary and struggling through the independent film festivals to get it seen and appreciated. Oh, too much self-reference. Too much winking. Films about filmmakers (and their films) run a high risk of stinking real bad, just as books about writers (and their stories) teeter along the edge of pretentious insider jokesterism and actual story.
And the movie's (Documentary? Series? What is it? Oh, you...) depiction of the various liberals dotting this New York loft-and-gallery landscape is cause for a great, silent embarassment, as they oscillate between Cathy-style flailing and an egg-headed tendency to casually over-psychoanalyze themselves over morning bagels. Watch Bob Roberts instead to get properly mad; then, any 1st or 2nd season West Wing episode to get equally inspired.
You can't cry in independent film.
MOVIE: THE GRUDGE (2004).
The spirit of a brutally murdered wife dooms everyone who touches it to death. So, I have some questions. Is this Hollywood remake less scary than the original Japanese Ju-on because I know what's going to happen? Or is it because they watered down the marathon creepfest to include more story/character motivation, and even a little gore? Whatever the case, I gotta disagree. Who cares about the mechanics of a curse? That's what made it so creepy. And the gore, involving a severed lower jaw, served only to shock me out of my frightful trance. If anything, this version only heightens my appreciation for the barebones craftsmanship of the original.
Notable was the film's fair treatment of foreigners living in Japan. No "short people" visual puns here--just a subtle, and proper, angst surrounding life in a foreign country.
Who does that belong to?
MOVIE: CATWOMAN (2004).
After being murdered for discovering a deadly secret at the cosmetics company she works at, a shy graphic designer is resurrected and endowed with super feline powers by a roving group of mysterious cats. For real. Never mind the patronizing McFeminism behind Catwoman's bondage-inspired leather outfit (and bullwhip!), or her cheap crusade against the evils of body image consumerism (cold cream that kills!). I expected such tripe from this summer dud. What I didn't expect, though, was Catwoman's weird lack of superpowers--only once do we see her use nightvision, or super-hearing, or even superior balancing skills. Mostly, it's a lot of running along a room's walls, Species-style (shudder), and then kicking people in the head.
Also, no one could have expected the frenetic camerawork, which includes lots of elaborate, swooping crane shots and rapid-fire quick cuts that make Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle seem like an episode of Nova on PBS. Couple that with surreal, throwaway editing and mood/tempo shifts bordering on the manic depressive, and you've got a strange collage of moments that feel more like a foreign commercial for an American product, Pringles perhaps, than a coherent film. Seriously: shy graphic designer hotty spies mysterious kitty on windowsill; heads outside her window to follow it, risking her life by teetering on a wobbly air-conditioner; handsome cop appears out of nowhere to rescue her; they instantly fall in love. And let's not forget the shocking CG of the leader of the mystic housecats, who at one point meeowrs magestically toward the heavens. Come on. It's still a housecat.
One of the most bizarre movies I've ever seen.
You may have lost your woman, but at least you got your man.
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