A Serious Man
Directors: Joel and Ethan Coen
Venue: Landmark Sunshine Cinema, Theater 1
Review Date: October 3rd, 2009
I have always had a love-hate relationship with the Coen Brothers. I loved Oh, Brother, Where art thou?, The Man Who Wasn't There, and Fargo. The Big Lebowski and No Country For Old Men did very little for me. I hated Burn After Reading. I admit an ignorance to their early work, but I have a deep admiration for Coen Brothers. They are brilliant craftsman, and regardless of content, their films are extremely well composed. A Serious Man is no exception, in content nor in craft.
A Serious Man takes place over a series of weeks in a small Minnesota town in 1967. It details the collapse of the life of Larry Gopnik (played by theatre actor Michael Stuhlbarg, whom I was lucky enough to see play Hamlet last year in the Public Theatre's stunning production). Gopnik is a University Physics professor, a Jew, and a man who seems to never be aware of what is happening around him. His son is a pot-smoking, F-Troop-watching slacker quickly approaching his bar mitzvah. His daughter is stealing money from his wallet to fund a nose job. His constantly pouting wife(Sari Lennick, another unknown) is having an affair with serious man Sy Abelman, and his umemployed, couch-borrowing brother is constantly draining the cyst on his neck. When his tenure is threatened by blackmail, and his wife asks him for a divorce, things really start to unravel for Larry.
Sounds simple enough, but the Coen Brothers are masters of plot and irony, and they manage to bring all these elements together gracefully, hilariously, and painfully. They have written their own Job story; how much abuse can a religious man who strives only to be good take before he loses it? That's what is explored here through breathtaking cinematography (The incomparable Roger Deakins), wonderful pacing, tight performances, and strong music choices. The Coens make every shot count, and there are layers and layers to reflect upon. Take the school bully chasing down Larry's son for weed money every day after school. At first, this image plays as comedy, another moment of relief in a very dark (albeit funny) affair. But look closer, stick through to the end, and the image has an indescribable pathos that only lodges itself in your brain upon reflection. Images from the film keep coming back to me. As usual with the Coens, there's a lot of ambiguity here, and they exploit it for everything it is worth.
The technical work is magnificent, but the acting more than equals it. Stuhlbarg has somewhat of a one-note character here, but the variety and commitment which he brings to is magnificent. Richard King, as Larry's brother Arthur, brings a sadness to his usual goofy and irritating persona. Fred Melamed does comedic masterwork as the adulterer Abelman. The supporting work is a wonder; we get a sense of community and down home provincialism. It's a wonderfully constructed world.
With A Serious Man, the Coen Brothers have delivered a film that is equal to their best work. It is both hilarious and tragic, and should be remembered in the winter awards season.
4.5/5
10/6/09
10/3/09
NYFF:Antichrist
Antichrist
Director: Lars Von Trier
Venue: Starr Theater, Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center
(New York Film Festival '09)
Review date: October 2nd, 2009
Before I offer my feelings on Antichrist, I should speak of my reverence for director Lars Von Trier. Von Trier, a Dane, stands as my favorite filmmaker and a huge influence. Dogville, Breaking The Waves, and The Idiots are masterworks. Dancer in the Dark, Manderlay, and The Boss of It All stand slightly below, but are still wonderful motion pictures.
Throughout his work Lars Von Trier has continually made films about men and women. Each of his films include a key relationship involving a man and a woman. More often than not, the woman is an idealist and the man has lost (or never had) his ideals. He has explored these relationships through Greek theatre (Medea), musicals (Dancer in The Dark), melodrama (Dogville, Manderlay) and comedy (The Idiots, The Boss of It All).
Now he has turned to horror for his latest work. Born out of a self-admitted depression, Von Trier's Antichrist bears all the marks of a Von Trier film (beautiful composition mixed with jerky handheld work, density of idea, extreme emotion), but it is by far his purest, most simple film yet. He has paired his theme of man vs. woman down to a story of a couple (literally called He and She), and the process of recovery after their son's death. She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) has become irrational and depressed, and He (Willem Dafoe), an educated and self-assured psychologist, decides that She needs to face her fear. He asks her where she is most scared, and she replies Eden, a forest in which the couple own a cabin (the location of Eden is never clearly established; we are led to believe, based on an envelope, that we are somewhere near Seattle, WA). Once there, He tries to help She face her fear, which leads to chaos, fear, and, ultimately, violence.
It's hard to describe Antichrist in a way that would do justice to the experience of seeing this film; simply put, it is the most harrowing experiences I have ever had in the cinema. The imagery, sound, and extreme violence create a tension that never lets up. At times, I felt myself chuckling, yet there is nothing truly funny about this film (Von Trier has a great sense of humor, and the movie has some laughs, however trying and unclear). I dreaded every second of tension as the film built to its climax. When it concluded, I felt lighter, thrilled, and purged. It was a cathartic experience.
Antichrist's complexity of theme and emotion at times threaten to swallow up the work, yet never do thanks to the precise work of the production team(The sound design is staggering; Anthony Dod Mantle's camera work is, as always, stunning) and the incredible performance of Charlotte Gainsbourg. It is a fearless, moving, and challenging portrait of a woman in grief whose behavior becomes terrifying and incomprehensible. It is an incredible screen performance, and should be remembered come award season. Equal credit must be given to Willem Dafoe for his equally powerful work in a somewhat thankless role.
Yet what this film, and all his films, really boils down to is Von Trier. He is an imaginative and provocative writer-director, and, with this film, he has once again proved his fearlessness. It is brazenly noncommercial, complex (a later blog entry may be devoted to the film's thematic content. It is far too large to be discussed here.), visceral, and challenging. Does everything about the film work? No. There is occasionally clunky dialogue and the film requires a second viewing to digest it's ideas and imagery. The tonal shifts are incredibly strong and hard to take, but ultimately part of what makes the experience so rewarding and cathartic. It is, without a doubt, a milestone in adult oriented cinema and probably Von Trier's most important film.
5/5
Director: Lars Von Trier
Venue: Starr Theater, Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center
(New York Film Festival '09)
Review date: October 2nd, 2009
Before I offer my feelings on Antichrist, I should speak of my reverence for director Lars Von Trier. Von Trier, a Dane, stands as my favorite filmmaker and a huge influence. Dogville, Breaking The Waves, and The Idiots are masterworks. Dancer in the Dark, Manderlay, and The Boss of It All stand slightly below, but are still wonderful motion pictures.
Throughout his work Lars Von Trier has continually made films about men and women. Each of his films include a key relationship involving a man and a woman. More often than not, the woman is an idealist and the man has lost (or never had) his ideals. He has explored these relationships through Greek theatre (Medea), musicals (Dancer in The Dark), melodrama (Dogville, Manderlay) and comedy (The Idiots, The Boss of It All).
Now he has turned to horror for his latest work. Born out of a self-admitted depression, Von Trier's Antichrist bears all the marks of a Von Trier film (beautiful composition mixed with jerky handheld work, density of idea, extreme emotion), but it is by far his purest, most simple film yet. He has paired his theme of man vs. woman down to a story of a couple (literally called He and She), and the process of recovery after their son's death. She (Charlotte Gainsbourg) has become irrational and depressed, and He (Willem Dafoe), an educated and self-assured psychologist, decides that She needs to face her fear. He asks her where she is most scared, and she replies Eden, a forest in which the couple own a cabin (the location of Eden is never clearly established; we are led to believe, based on an envelope, that we are somewhere near Seattle, WA). Once there, He tries to help She face her fear, which leads to chaos, fear, and, ultimately, violence.
It's hard to describe Antichrist in a way that would do justice to the experience of seeing this film; simply put, it is the most harrowing experiences I have ever had in the cinema. The imagery, sound, and extreme violence create a tension that never lets up. At times, I felt myself chuckling, yet there is nothing truly funny about this film (Von Trier has a great sense of humor, and the movie has some laughs, however trying and unclear). I dreaded every second of tension as the film built to its climax. When it concluded, I felt lighter, thrilled, and purged. It was a cathartic experience.
Antichrist's complexity of theme and emotion at times threaten to swallow up the work, yet never do thanks to the precise work of the production team(The sound design is staggering; Anthony Dod Mantle's camera work is, as always, stunning) and the incredible performance of Charlotte Gainsbourg. It is a fearless, moving, and challenging portrait of a woman in grief whose behavior becomes terrifying and incomprehensible. It is an incredible screen performance, and should be remembered come award season. Equal credit must be given to Willem Dafoe for his equally powerful work in a somewhat thankless role.
Yet what this film, and all his films, really boils down to is Von Trier. He is an imaginative and provocative writer-director, and, with this film, he has once again proved his fearlessness. It is brazenly noncommercial, complex (a later blog entry may be devoted to the film's thematic content. It is far too large to be discussed here.), visceral, and challenging. Does everything about the film work? No. There is occasionally clunky dialogue and the film requires a second viewing to digest it's ideas and imagery. The tonal shifts are incredibly strong and hard to take, but ultimately part of what makes the experience so rewarding and cathartic. It is, without a doubt, a milestone in adult oriented cinema and probably Von Trier's most important film.
5/5
10/1/09
Classic Review: The Steamroller and the Violin.
Katok i skripka
The Steamroller and the Violin
(1960)
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Andrei Tarkovsky is a not a well known filmmaker in the U.S., outside of those with a keen interest in cinema. His most famous feature is probably Solaris (1972), due to the fact that it was recently remade by Steven Soderberg and George Clooney.
On the international scene, however, Tarkovsky is a legend. His films are provocative, deeply spiritual, and beautiful. They are also notorious for being slow moving, occasionally inert, and challenging in their intellectualism.
I have struggled my way through much of Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev and Stalker before, mostly unsuccessfully, and so I have decided to watch his films in chronological order to try and find a new way to appreciate them.
I've begun with Steamroller and the Violin, a mosfilm production that Tarkovsky made in 1960 as his diploma film. It is a student film, and this is often evident from the level of production. However, it is a wonderful film, and very indicative of where Tarkovsky would go in the future.
Steamroller and the Violin details one day in the life of Sasha, a seven year old musician. Sasha plays the violin, and it is his goal in life (pushed by his mother) to become a professional violinist. It is clear, however, that Sasha has other aspirations, and these include daydreaming and wandering (a beautiful kaleidoscopic early in the film shows us his imagination in full blossom). When leaving the house one morning, he is harassed by several of the local boys who spitefully call him 'musician.' He is saved by Sergei, a local worker who operates the steamroller that is doing construction outside the block of flats where Sasha lives. From this early interaction, the two strike up a friendship which the film details in simple, lyrical, and wistful ways.
Tarkovsky's work is often comprised of long, colorful, and dreamily shots heavy with atmosphere and symbolism. Steamroller and the violin is no exception. It is beautifully and meaningfully composed, and many seemingly mundane objects completely steal your attention throughout. He uses his simple story as a springboard for a deeper exploration of the things we are lacking in our lives, and the strangeness of our daily existence.
Of course, being a student film, there are aspects of the production that feel amateurish. There are editing guffaws and odd sound problems, but the film doesn't feel dated, and, at 43 minutes, is not one of Tarkovsky's more challenging efforts.
Tarkovsky was a great filmmaker; his films feel like a dream, and Steamroller and the Violin showed him off to a great start. Highly recommended. The film is available on Netflix.
4/5
Next up: Ivan's Childhood.
The Steamroller and the Violin
(1960)
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Andrei Tarkovsky is a not a well known filmmaker in the U.S., outside of those with a keen interest in cinema. His most famous feature is probably Solaris (1972), due to the fact that it was recently remade by Steven Soderberg and George Clooney.
On the international scene, however, Tarkovsky is a legend. His films are provocative, deeply spiritual, and beautiful. They are also notorious for being slow moving, occasionally inert, and challenging in their intellectualism.
I have struggled my way through much of Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev and Stalker before, mostly unsuccessfully, and so I have decided to watch his films in chronological order to try and find a new way to appreciate them.
I've begun with Steamroller and the Violin, a mosfilm production that Tarkovsky made in 1960 as his diploma film. It is a student film, and this is often evident from the level of production. However, it is a wonderful film, and very indicative of where Tarkovsky would go in the future.
Steamroller and the Violin details one day in the life of Sasha, a seven year old musician. Sasha plays the violin, and it is his goal in life (pushed by his mother) to become a professional violinist. It is clear, however, that Sasha has other aspirations, and these include daydreaming and wandering (a beautiful kaleidoscopic early in the film shows us his imagination in full blossom). When leaving the house one morning, he is harassed by several of the local boys who spitefully call him 'musician.' He is saved by Sergei, a local worker who operates the steamroller that is doing construction outside the block of flats where Sasha lives. From this early interaction, the two strike up a friendship which the film details in simple, lyrical, and wistful ways.
Tarkovsky's work is often comprised of long, colorful, and dreamily shots heavy with atmosphere and symbolism. Steamroller and the violin is no exception. It is beautifully and meaningfully composed, and many seemingly mundane objects completely steal your attention throughout. He uses his simple story as a springboard for a deeper exploration of the things we are lacking in our lives, and the strangeness of our daily existence.
Of course, being a student film, there are aspects of the production that feel amateurish. There are editing guffaws and odd sound problems, but the film doesn't feel dated, and, at 43 minutes, is not one of Tarkovsky's more challenging efforts.
Tarkovsky was a great filmmaker; his films feel like a dream, and Steamroller and the Violin showed him off to a great start. Highly recommended. The film is available on Netflix.
4/5
Next up: Ivan's Childhood.
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