Change Your Image
jacob rosen
Reviews
The Tailor of Panama (2001)
Fun, Poignant
Pierce Brosnan happily plays against type as a rogue British secret agent sent to Panama to be kept out of sight and instead decides to instigate trouble by getting involved with a tailor with a past (Geoffrey Rush) and his wife (Jamie Lee Curtis). John Boorman continues to explore one of his dominant themes--the tenuous bonds of family--as intelligently as he did in films such as `Where The Heart Is', `Hope And Glory' and `The Emerald Forest' and it's a reassuring feeling to find someone who finds such comfort in family. Brosnan is delightful as he subverts his James Bond persona at every turn, reveling in his tawdry exploits both sexual and manipulative; it tells us much about Brosnan's approach that he would even dare to explore the undercurrents of his image as well as that of popular film espionage. All in all, it's a fun film to watch, tastefully done and poignant.
The Gift (2000)
Lackluster
Sam Raimi's mix of Southern gothic melodrama and supernatural mind games is superior to his last thriller `A Simple Plan', but still nowhere near his masterpiece, the classic `Darkman', where his love of the Universal horror films of the thirties was the primary motivator. Cate Blanchett stars as a medium in a small Georgia town who becomes involved in the murder of a socialite (Katie Holmes) and must deal with the perceptions of the townsfolk. Raimi never gets enough of a dynamic rhythm going and the film seems both limp and tired; the predictable screenplay by Billy Bob Thornton and Tom Epperson seems to have been created after reading one too many Stephen King novels. The only real pleasure is watching Keanu Reeves try again to play against type as a villain and he's more effective this time than he was in `The Watcher'.
Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)
Surprisingly Entertaining
Perhaps it was George Lucas's return to the helm, but this installment of the `Star Wars' saga is surprisingly entertaining, working as an interesting saga and not merely as backstory to the legendary trilogy. It's certainly far superior to the sequels of the original, neither of which Lucas directed. There's more of a focus on the characters here than in the previous films (Lucas brings in a heavyweight in Liam Neeson and Ewan McGregor has already established himself as an actor of some repute) but there's plenty of attention to detail and the look of the film itself is a dense, roving kaleidoscope with an emphasis on the burnished browns and dark reds that may be an influence from Kurosawa's color films. (Indeed the concept of `Star Wars' itself seems directly influenced by Kurosawa.) Some of the action sequences, such as the pod race that is the centerpiece of the film, may seem overly familiar but they're deftly handled and exciting nonetheless. Lucas is clearly in love with chivalry and his fight scenes are filled with motivations of honor, dignity and justice. With the exception of the contemptuously annoying Jar Jar Binks (it's hard to get past the implications his character represents), there's a lot to admire here and it's greatly appreciated.
Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)
Phony
Renee Zellweger's ludicrous British accent is only one of the outrages perpetrated in Sharon Maguire's film of the Helen Fielding bestseller about the life and loves of a thirty-something single woman. This is a film that could set the feminist cause back thirty years with its shamelessly aggressive belief that women have careers only to make themselves more available to men and that life isn't worth living if Mr. Right doesn't come along. Zellweger spends the entire film trying to convince us she's got the accent down but she's only a caricature--and a blank one at that. Maguire, meanwhile, spends just as much effort trying to convince us that a natural beauty like Zellweger is fat and plain--it's a sham (much like Janeane Garafolo is in `The Truth About Cats & Dogs'). The rest of the cast is uninspired; even the dependable Hugh Grant, trying to play against type as a cad, barely registers a pulse and Colin Firth, as Mr. Right, is curiously unlikable. The script (by Fielding and two other-male-writers) is shallow and tedious.
Mulholland Dr. (2001)
Captivatingly Pointless
Though it's far more coherent than its predecessor `Lost Highways', David Lynch is beginning to show signs of repetition and this noir fantasy-nightmare is so reminiscent of other Lynch films that it ends up signifying nothing. Still, nobody does David Lynch better than Lynch: he's an artist when it comes to evoking dread and the film is never less than morbidly fascinating. There's very little point in going over the plot because it's far more of a mood piece than anything else; suffice it to say the primary issue here (much like `Lost Highways') is shifting identities. To that end, the characters are blank though gorgeous. Worth seeing as long as you recognize you're spinning your wheels.
His Girl Friday (1940)
Sardonic Depression-Era Despair
Howard Hawks, as Pauline Kael claims, may not have invented rapid crossfire dialogue (his source material, the play `The Front Page' probably accounts for that and screwball comedies like `It Happened One Night' can also be cited) but he was a master of it and `His Girl Friday' pins its humor on cynical wit delivered with speed. Cary Grant is absolutely charming as newspaper editor Walter Burns, a rogue with tunnel vision focused only on scooping the competition. With an execution about to take place, he calls upon his ace reporter, Hildy Johnson (a smooth but vulnerable Rosalind Russell), who just happens to be Burns' ex-wife and who is planning to retire and settle down with creampuff insurance agent Bruce Baldwin (the ever-likable Ralph Bellamy). The action shows its stage roots, confined mostly to several indoor sets and the pace flags a bit toward the end but overall the film is a sharp undertaking, a sardonic comedy with dark currents of Depression-era despair embedded in it.
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
Astonishing
Peter Jackson is perhaps the only director with a vision expansive enough to create the enveloping world that comprises J.R.R. Tolkien's epic. (After all, his excellent `Heavenly Creatures' concerned two teenage girls so entrenched in a world of medieval chivalry and battle that they resort to murder to keep in intact.) Here, Jackson's world is so thorough that it not only encompasses the earth most of the action takes place on but also an underworld and (especially) every available inch of sky. It's enormous. Structures rise for what seem like miles into the air (the production design is by Grant Major, who also did `Heavenly Creatures' and Jackson's enjoyable horror-comedy `The Frighteners') and Andrew Lesnies's swooping camera frequently gives you a bird's eye-view of all levels of action. And what action! Definitely not for children under nine, intense battles that last for several minutes apiece feature creatures that are among the most disturbing personifications of evil you may ever see. The sense of despair they provide is palpable and exhausting. Jackson uses all the powers of his imagination to create what is clearly an hommage to Tolkien, but there's also a gleeful indulgence in honoring his favorite filmmakers; there are references too numerous to mention but the tribute to the German expressionists of the silent era is vivid and delightful (and scary). The film's scope dwarfs Tolkien's characters but perhaps that's the point: the immense struggle between good and evil is bigger than any character can carry (and there are few shades of gray presented here) and although the outcome seems predictable the struggle itself is awesome, biblical, profound. The acting is fine, especially Ian McKellan as Gandalf the Grey and Viggo Mortensen as Strider but Jackson could have had everyone reading the phone book and the result would have been the same. This will surely go down in the annals of film making as one of the finest examples of film fantasy ever created. The special effects are completely convincing; you've definitely seen bigger budgets that haven't been used this well. I feel like an idiot gushing as I do but I can't help it--it's that good.
Saving Silverman (2001)
Performance Driven
Winning performances from Amanda Peet, Jack Black and Steve Zahn are enough to merit a recommendation in this farce about two buddies (Black and Zahn) who are forced to rescue their best friend (Jason Biggs) from the clutches of his manipulative, cold-hearted fiancée (Peet). Black is quickly becoming an essential component for any comedy looking to establish hipster credibility and is a master of a kind of comedy that depends on literal interpretation. Zahn (from `That Thing You Do' among others) has an everyman kind of genial good nature that makes his presence welcome and comfortable. Peet has a smooth, marble surface that fully complements her quietly domineering persona and she should do whatever she can to exploit it. (Her turn at likability in the awful `The Whole Nine Yards' proved her limitations in that regard.) The film itself has its funny moments and there are some clever lines here and there (it's written by Hank Nelkin and Greg DePaul) with an intention to appeal to an older audience too mature for `American Pie'. To that end they bring in Neil Diamond, playing himself as savior. He's a good sport.
The Deer Hunter (1978)
Comes Close
Michael Cimino's ambitious goal of creating an epic about the impact of the Vietnam War on ordinary civilians falls a little short of its goal--Cimino's attempts at creating mythology through his characters doesn't have as much substance as it would appear on the surface and a lot of the moments aimed at reflection seem empty; on a larger scale, there might be some trouble understanding what it all means. But when Cimino concentrates on the smaller, intimate interpersonal relationships--of which there are many--he succeeds brilliantly and the anguish of the war's aftereffects are clear, keenly felt and far more engrossing. Robert DeNiro heads an ensemble cast that includes Meryl Streep, John Heard, Christopher Walken and the sorely missed John Cazale; they do justice to the script (by Cimino and three other writers) even when it shows its limitations. The middle section is a justly celebrated Russian roulette game played in a makeshift POW camp; while it underscores the unfortunate aspects of the screenplay, it is a harrowing experience that makes the performances that much more powerful. It could have been shorter but it is still a worthwhile experience, if not quite the masterpiece it was intended to be.
The Godfather (1972)
An Icon
At once an observant homage to crime films of the Thirties and Forties and a loving portrait of an Italian-American family, Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation of Mario Puzo's superlative novel (Puzo also co-write the script) is an achievement few films can hope to approximate. Coppola, along with his cinematographer, Gordon Willis, and his production designer, Dear Tavoularis, have created a history wholly realized, burnished brown as if a memory that will never completely fade. The world of the Cosa Nostra they present is closed and stuffy which provides an intimacy that generates an extraordinary amount of warmth and a feeling of lives being affected. The cast is flawless: the actors, to a person, inhabit the characters with such understanding and affection that they will be forever associated with them. (Al Pacino as Michael in the trilogy will never be able to match this work elsewhere.) But it is Marlon Brando in the title role that delivers such devastating work that you can only sit and stare in wonderment. Brando has a presence wise beyond his years and his gentle, thoughtful manner is never once betrayed his calculating, violent acts. Every movement, every vocal inflection is detailed and planned but he offers a spontaneity that never reveals technique. Guided by Coppola's abiding dedication to realism, Brando pushes this film to icon status. Not to be missed.
Woodstock (1970)
The Stars Align
Michael Wadleigh's stunning documentary couldn't have had better timing, being, as it was, in the right place and the right time (a defining, culture-changing moment in the Sixties). That's it's an expertly executed piece of filmmaking further indicates the stars must have somehow been aligned. Wadleigh shows a deep empathy for the men and women in charge of the festival (although you can still take him to task for his dishonorable treatment of some of the foot soldiers, most notably the Port-O-San man) as well as the townsfolk of Woodstock, New York; and he shows just as much passion for the music. The camera seems to be everywhere important and Wadleigh's use of split-screen photography has perhaps never been equaled; the editing (some of which is done by Martin Scorsese and his future editor and wife, Thelma Schoonmaker) is tight with nothing wasteful making it to the screen. Some of it's a little dated (can you remember Joan Baez' husband's last name?) and some of the music is exposed for the sham it really is (i.e. Jefferson Airplane) but if it were released in its current form originally Canned Heat would be today regarded as cultural icons and not merely a pop memory. Oh and Ten Years After stands alone. The nearly four hour film just flies by.
Hollow Man (2000)
Is Verhoeven Some Sort Of Savant Or What?
Another violent, angry fantasy from Paul Verhoeven. Verhoeven is a puzzle: it's difficult to tell whether he takes his sordid impulses seriously, with sardonic intent or operates in complete oblivion. He also seems completely ignorant of the fact that all the brilliant visuals in the world (and this has some outstanding ones) cannot hide a negligence to story, dialogue and performance. Kevin Bacon plays a corrupt scientist who has discovered invisibility and uses it to drive himself into moral bankruptcy. Bacon is normally a likable actor who occasionally shows his dark side (`The River Wild') in an attempt to offset his boyish looks; given the material, however, Bacon isn't nearly hateful enough to compel. The other principals are Elisabeth Shue and Josh Brolin, neither of whom are gifted enough to make a solid impression and who, when forced to deliver inane dialogue, embarrass themselves. The climax is a study in preponderance and disbelief has to be truly suspended.
The Birds (1963)
Two Films
Alfred Hitchcock's adaptation of the famous Daphne DuMaurier novella is really two films: the first hour sets up a flirtation between rambunctious socialite Tippi Hedren and conservative attorney Rod Taylor; the second hour throws the construction aside to concentrate on random attacks on a small California village by flocks of wild birds. Of course, as with Hitchcock, nothing is unnecessary and the relationship between Hedren and Taylor becomes a family unit in order to rescue unity from chaos. Hitchcock's worldview is extremely dour here (everyone--even children--are subjects of graphic torture) and the conclusion suggests a slow impending doom--it's extremely upsetting to say the least. The first hour, however, is talky and dull. There is no musical score but Bernard Herrmann does have a hand in the sound. Disney pioneer Ub Iwerks is listed as a `Special Photographic Advisor'.
Max Keeble's Big Move (2001)
Why The Big Screen?
Is there any reason that this should not have had its premiere on the Disney Channel? It certainly has the formulas of a Disney Channel telefilm: a child has to face his/her fears, usually in the form of a bully (in this case, there are several) and prove that he/she has a skill superior to the nemesis. It's low-rent therapy aimed at getting kids through adolescence, a far cry from what Uncle Walt did in his early animated classics. This is ponderous entertainment with minimal laughs, a dull gloss and performers that range from the merely insignificant (Max himself, played by Alex D. Linz) to the odorous (the truly unfunny Larry Miller).
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
An Amiable Ramble
A surprisingly entertaining comedy from the Coen brothers, who attempt to place Homer's `Odyssey' in the Depression-era Deep South. Maybe because they spend so much time focusing on getting the retelling right there's very little of the cold condescension towards the characters that mars most of their other films. (Not that there's a whole lot of warmth either; the Coen brothers don't seem capable of empathizing with people and many of the characters are present only to serve as comic relief.) There's also a rhythm that makes the film a very pleasant ramble, abetted by T-Bone Burnett's bluesy score and Roger Deakins' dusty, deep woods photography. The three convicts who escape from a chain gang and wander in search of home and family are played by Tim Blake Nelson and John Turturro (both very likable) and are anchored by George Clooney (passable but he does try). The large cast also includes Coen stalwarts John Goodman (as the Cyclops), Holly Hunter and Charles Durning. The title is a typical Coen film school in-joke, referencing Preston Sturges' `Sullivan's Travels'.
Citizen Kane (1941)
As If It Were Made Yesterday
Orson Welles' indisputable masterpiece has a modernity that shocks you upon viewing: it could have been made yesterday, it seems that contemporary. It has innovation writ large all over it, from Gregg Toland's deep focus cinematography to Bernard Herrmann's moody score to the natural interplay of the performers (especially Welles with his wonderfully modulated voice) and it never flags, not even for a minute. The screenplay, by Welles and Herman J. Mankiewicz, is a model of perfection, cutting, as it does, through a life as seen through the eyes of those who knew Charles Foster Kane at various points. All in all, it's impossible to conceive improving upon what is quite possibly the greatest, most influential film ever made.
Blow (2001)
Depp Shines
Johnny Depp delivers another steel-eyed performance that raises Ted Demme's morality tale to be the best it can be--which is to say not a whole lot. Based on a true story, Depp plays George Jung, an honest, likable drug smuggler who wants nothing more than to live the American dream and finds himself skilled at his profession; he's done in by a cruel, cold world that he fails to ever understand. Depp is quietly lyrical, infusing his character with a shimmering fluidity that allows him to fade into the background whenever the scene demands something larger--he's nothing if not an expert team player. Unfortunately, Demme is too obsessed with paying homage to Martin Scorsese to care and the film as a whole feels recycled from `GoodFellas'. Also starring is Penelope Cruz, good in a limited but crucial role as Jung's wife.
Go Fish (1994)
Mediocre At Its Best
Rose Troche's understanding of film language brings this film about lesbians looking for true romance up to the level of mediocrity--otherwise, it would be virtually unwatchable. Troche's eye and odd sense of what is important on the screen (the scene transitions are especially weird) transcend some horribly amateurish acting and writing. (The screenplay is by the director and her star, Guinevere Turner.) The film makes every effort to come across as a simple story with characters who just happen to be gay but is continually compromised by ponderous lesbian polemics that sap whatever sweetness the story tries to put across. Turner has a kind of toothy charm that reminds one of a more compact Geena Davis but Troche never instructs her to slow down enough so that her lines have some kind of impact. The rest of the cast seems to be doing it only as a labor of love.
Memento (2000)
Clever but Taxing
Christopher Nolan's modern-day noir concerns a man (Guy Pearce) trying to uncover his wife's killers while struggling with short-term memory loss. Since his hero is also the narrator, it's a tricky narrative; but Nolan complicates things even further by unfolding the story backwards. The result is clever but it's also taxing: your mind has to work harder than it necessarily should. Once the novelty wears off, there are plenty of dead spots and impatience sets in--you want to get to the beginning to get a feeling of completion. The result is like watching a big-screen version of `Columbo' where you know the killer at the onset and watch Peter Falk figure out whodunit and why. If that's your cup of tea, this is for you. Pearce is excellent, as usual; also starring is Joe Pantoliano (a pleasure) and an underused Carrie-Anne Moss.
The Anniversary Party (2001)
A Labor Of Love
A joint directing and writing project from superb actors Alan Cumming and Jennifer Jason Leigh. The film has a seemingly improvised, verite feel to it. As it's about a party, it works almost as if it's a home movie and given the feeling of friends in a labor of love project, shaky camerawork and cropped heads at the top of many frames it probably was intended as such. Cumming and Leigh play an estranged show couple attempting to reconcile and celebrate their sixth anniversary. They invite their friends and neighbors (each of whom they judge and are in turn judged by them) and as the evening progresses, devastating secrets are revealed. There's quite a bit of Edward Albee's influence at work--the script seems designed to portray everyone in the most despicable manner possible. But Cumming and Leigh don't spend enough time on background information so that when empathy is called for it's impossible for you to deliver. Still, there's a suitably uncomfortable feeling that permeates the proceedings and the filmmakers and performers are delighted to be in the process of creating something with emotion. It has its moments.
Osmosis Jones (2001)
Pleasant, Unassuming, Limited
The Farrelly Brothers try their hand at mixing their warped style of transgressive comedy with family accessibility and the results are generally agreeable if not overwhelming. Part live action, part animation, it's a spin on buddy pictures that takes place in zookeeper Bill Murray's body, where a rogue virus (the voice of Laurence Fishburne) plots to kill Murray while a disgraced police cell (no pun intended) voiced by Chris Rock teams with a cold pill (the voice of David Hyde Pierce) to defeat him. The film has no great aspirations, preferring to draw on the `Lethal Weapon' series and `Toy Story' for its inspiration and the animation, while compelling, is reminiscent of old, one-dimensional Hanna-Barbera cartoons, specifically `The Jetsons'. The gags are naturally about bodily functions and there's lots of playfulness with names and concepts. But the audience these gags are aimed at--the pre-teen crowd--will find most of them going over their heads.
Annie Hall (1977)
Warm, Loose And Funny
Woody Allen's breakthrough as a filmmaker is a loose, episodic look at a modern relationship and it combines the best of Allen' earlier films with a melancholia that would turn exceedingly dour in his later work. It's aided immeasurably by the winning Diane Keaton in the title role; she's fresh and funny and although the story is not told in a linear fashion, you can see her maturation and self-determination as the film progresses. Much can be made about Allen's vindictive treatment of women (and, in his later films, there's plenty of justification to criticize his views) but it should be noted than Allen skewers plenty of men here, most notably himself; he's always castigated himself in order to elicit your pity but this time there's a self-flagellation that seems hard, unforgiving and realistic. He also manages to make this one of his funniest films: many of the lines (by Allen and Marshall Brickman) are unforgettable. After `Manhattan' Allen's consistency would dry up (he apparently never recovered from `Interiors' and `Stardust Memories') but here his talents are in full bloom.
Best in Show (2000)
Funny But Insignificant
Christopher Guest's mockumentary about a national dog show and its participants is very similar in spirit to the groundbreaking `This Is Spinal Tap', of which Guest was a co-creator. It's a very funny picture, albeit not as biting as `This Is Spinal Tap', probably due, in part, to Guest's co-scenarist, Eugene Levy, whose gentleness also comes through in his role as one of the entrants, a shy bumbler--he actually has two left feet.(Guest himself plays another, a mild-mannered good ol' boy.) The bile, such as there is, is reserved for a repressed couple (Parker Posey and Michael Hitchcock) who channel their frustrations with each other into their pooch. Guest doesn't seem to want to aim for high targets, settling, instead, on providing a pleasant diversion and while his subject is an inspired choice for a comedy, the format probably can't sustain much more than this. One hopes that Guest will attempt to direct more plot-driven films that concentrate more on characterization rather than caricature.
Slap Shot (1977)
A Hill/Newman Masterpiece
An original, expertly crafted comedy from the underrated George Roy Hill. Paul Newman plays the captain of an inept semi-professional hockey team trying to stay afloat in a dying industrial town; when the team adds a trio of blood-seeking brothers (alone worth the price of admission), the team's notoriety catches fire with the depressed community. Hill captures this with a flat, no frills, documentary-like style and with Newman's intuitive ability to play on his aging charm, the film is absolutely convincing in its detail. Newman's contribution to cinema cannot be overstated: as an actor growing his immense talent through his beauty, he has given us insight into our preoccupation with our ideals of the American physique throughout its lifespan. He insists that aging has its grace and comedy and he's ruthless when it comes to examining himself. Hill also deserves credit for presenting Nancy Dowd's well-written screenplay directly and with a sense of timing that causes you to double over with laughter even as you're affected by the characters' plights. A masterpiece that underneath its knowing smirk lies a sense of childlike innocence in presenting things as seen, without embellishment.
State and Main (2000)
Entertaining But Insignificant
A movie crew invades a quaint Northeast village and mixes it up with the locals--it qualifies as made-for-television entertainment and even in the hands of David Mamet, it isn't much more than that. Mamet wants you to take sides, pitting the sleazy Hollywood crew (led by the self-absorbed director, well played by William H. Macy) against the noble townsfolk and the writer (Philip Seymour Hoffman, sublime, as usual) whose script with its theme of purity the filmmakers are bent on corrupting. But he wants to have his cake and eat it too: the finale is a win-win situation for all concerned that has very little credibility. Mamet allows his actors to bring a real humanity to their roles yet this isn't always a good thing; Clark Gregg, as a local politician with statewide aspirations, brings a complex and earnest shading to his role that Mamet manages to undermine and humiliate. The director is clearly looking to combine Frank Capra's love of the common man with Billy Wilder's deeply-ingrained cynicism and the ensemble interaction of Paul Thomas Anderson (many of the players are Anderson veterans) and he doesn't embarrass himself in doing this; but it's a very shallow piece of filmmaking and his pandering to the art-house crowd tells you more about Mamet than you want to know. Hoffman and Rebecca Pidgeon create a pleasing chemistry. The dialogue is typically stylized Mamet; at least here, coming from the stone-faced townsfolk, it doesn't sound as stilted as usual.