I'm Seeing Green

An Explosive War Film

What makes the Hurt Locker one of the most magnificent war films made recently? Perhaps it's because it's directed by a woman…a friend said to me that only a woman could've brought out the nuances shown so powerfully in this film. 

 [image:Summit Entertainment]

Directed by Katherine Bigelow (Mission Zero, Point Break,) a rare non-chick-movie woman director, whose previous efforts don’t even hint at the intensity and acting power she's brought out in this film, it is set in Iraq in 2004…before you decide it's yet another gung ho propaganda-effort-masked-as-movie, read on.

 

The opening scene of this movie (it starts abruptly without credits, or, for that matter, any real "opening" trope,) shows the efforts of the Delta Company bomb squad to defuse a roadside bomb in Iraq. Tense from the start, it stays that way relentlessly though most of its 130 minute running time. There's a sameness, almost ordinariness about it; except it's the sameess of war, with its attendant tension, horror and imminent death. The bomb squad is led by Sergeant Sanborn (Anthony Mackie), Specialist Eldridge (Brian Geraghty); when their defusing expert is killed in the opening sequence, he's replaced by maverick William James (Jeremy Renner in a bravura performance,) who's not exactly a by-the-rule type of guy, but who has defused 873 bombs (give or take a few;)  he also seems to having a wonderful time while being barely in control. The classic male wartime ego conflict…rule-breaker vs. the chief who cannot control him. And Eldridge is a nervous never-quite-there-for-you personality who you sense is a disaster waiting to happen.

 

Except, not quite. The devil is in the details, and the details are superb. James tossing off his bomb suit because it would make no difference at that point, he's dead if the bomb explodes and he'd rather be comfortable; fearless James ignoring Sanborne's pleas to pull out as he desperately searches for the  bomb trigger in a partially burned car; James (he does get all the good scenes,) finding the body of the boy he tried to befriend  days after his last contact with hum (and why is that body so obviously staged in an abandoned warehouse?); the semi-obligatory punch-fest between James and Sandborne, with an awesome funny ending…all perfectly staged.

 

How you feel about this movie depends on how much you can take its intensity, its brutality, its relentless downbeat-ness…as just a movie…in which case it is an absolute must-see, a rare combination of acting, directing and writing (by Mark Boal, from real-life experiences) perfection. Regard it as a commentary on the horror of war, its mindless destruction, its visceral danger, its soldiers retching at the sight of a bloody body, its dissonance between an occupying force's necessary hair trigger paranoia and  the routine-ness of kids watching the scene waiting for another explosive (in all senses of the term) denouement, and it is to weep; and yet to laugh in relief from time to time. Black humor was never so edgy.

 

No clichés here, thankfully, or at least not any that are remarkable. A late scene between James and his wife (a small but pleasant cameo role for beauteous Evangeline Lilly, Kate of Lost,) is heartbreaking in its banality; them shopping in the typically over-choiced suburban supermarket, her pointedly ignoring his tentative comment about the scariness of his job…what could she say? and yet why say nothing?...but it underscores his loneliness and his total commitment to the job.

  

The excellent cinematography (filmed on location in Jordan) by Barry Ackroyd and the spare and effective music by Marco Beltrami add immeasurably to the experience.

 

Playing at the Beekman in Manhattan

 

The Unnamable Play at the Old Stone House

I'm somewhat of a Shakespeare purist at heart, so I approached the Old Stone House , where I was to see "Dzeici Makbet" ("a Wicked Work in Progress") last night with some trepidation.  But from the very enthusiastic reception I got at the entrance, greeted by cast members, to the thoroughly enjoyable hour-and-a-quarter of the show, I'm glad I my fears were far from coming true.

To give you an idea of what the performance was like, consider these points:

Instead of a program with the usual notes on the actors and the obligatory notice praising Actor's Equity, we're handed a "Rules of Engagement..." which says, among several points, that all Actor must know the entire text, and that each is "encouraged to play a Witch, Makbet (Macbeth), and Lady Makbet at least once per enactment."

Before the play begins, the cast, speaking in various sometimes-put-on accents, encourages the audience to eat (bread, sausage and macaroons) and drink (wine, and a potent sweet liqueur) to get in the mood. Glasses and utensils are not much in supply; straight from the bottle and bits off the hunk is the way.

The "stage" is somewhat smaller than the average living room carpet (in fact, it is a living room carpet,) and contains at times, eight actors, and eight lit candles; the only other prop being a bucket (put to good use, among other things, as the witch's cauldron,) and a hand-held spotlight used to great effect as the only source of non-candle light.

Actors change roles at the drop of a hat, negotiating the change in the manner of an improvisational exercise (the director, Matt Mitler told me at the end," well, we've not had two Macduffs in the final scene before".) This may, and does, lead to a considerable level of confusion and sometimes incoherence (a knowledge of Macbeth is essential, check synopsis here before you go if your knowledge of the play is spotty), but the action moves smartly along, propelled by the energy and acting acumen of the cast. If you consider the additional tension induced by this number of actors working quite physically in such a tiny space, surrounded by audience members inches away, with breakable and lighted objects around, you'd see why there's probably a clause in the non-program prohibiting lawyers from attending. Nobody yesterday seemed even remotely fazed.

Not the least of the delights of this performance is the melding of the Shakespearean text (well, considerably truncated, of course, distilled to its essence is perhaps the more operative word,) with songs in multiple languages and a consistent humming refrain which begins and ends the show (and yes, the audience is encouraged to join in the haunting sounds.) Does it matter that we wonder exactly who's who at the moment? No. It adds to the effect.

I wished I had my son with me as I know (aside from the libations, of course) it would be greatly enjoyable for anyone  of any age with a love of theatre, an open mind and a sense of fun. Only other performance tonight at 8pm

The Dzieci Theatre "is an international experimental theatre ensemble dedicated to a search for the "sacred" through the medium of theatre." They will be at La Mama on Apr 16-19 with "Fools Mass at LaMaMa" and I certainly intend to be there.

 

 

The Real Dirt on Coal

Turn on your light switch and the lamp turns on. Do you really know where the electricity comes from?

A surprising statistic is that over one-half of the electricity generated in the US comes from burning coal, arguably the most environmentally damaging of sources. Besides the rapacious methods used to collect the coal, its use is also a major producer of CO² (contributing 36% of the US emissions) and of many toxins such as arsenic and mercury which are trace elements in the mined coal.

Brooklyn director and co-writer David Novack's documentary Burning the Future-Coal in America is a powerful-but-not-polemic, damning indictment of the coal industry in Southern West Virginia, a state whose politics, life and environment are heavily in thrall to the coal industry. Almost all of the electrical power generated in W Va. is from coal, and the industry contributes strongly to the political establishment there ..."Gov. Joe Manchin received $571,214 of the $673,251 in coal contributions made to last year's gubernatorial candidates, or nearly 85 percent of the total."

Any wonder that Manchin comes across in this film as more-than-ready to bend over to accommodate the coal producers? In talking with coal workers, Manchin and others leave no doubt as the starkness of the choice; you're either with coal or you're against jobs. More startling then is the statistic that we're talking 15,000 jobs in the state, a number also dropping steadily as the labor-intensity of coal mining diminishes.

Burning the Future is the story of a few courageous people whose lives have been overturned by the process of mining coal called Mountaintop Removal. Which is exactly what it implies, the explosive destruction of mature forested mountain tops  in order to get to the coal seams underneath.

It is the story of Maria Gunhoe,  new to community organization, whose land "has changed completely" from the time her grandfather bought it and whose house shakes with the explosives and whose water is black with coal dust. With no trace of bitterness but plenty of determination, she is an articulate spokesperson against the coal industry's excesses and prevarications.

It is the story of ecologist Ben Stout, who talks about the destruction of forest habitat which is amongst the most diverse cultures in the world, and of the inadequate restoration of the land  even though it seems to have recovered (who realized that by filling in the valleys with the detritus of the mountain top, you reduce land area and therefore affect diversity?)

And it is the story of many, many others who are waking up to realize the environmental disaster that this method of "mining" represents (traditional in-ground mining, largely abandoned for its higher labor costs and, to be fair,its greater danger, is not anywhere nearly as damaging.) Mountaintop removal also causes blockage of natural streams when the vast quantities of material are shifted, which, along with the occasionally leaking coal slurry ponds, pollutes the water supply causing illness among the local residents.

We hear from many such West Virginians who were directly affected, and follow their protests, petitions and arrests. The director lets the participants speak for themselves, never intruding on their words (well there were a few times the otherwise wonderful music in the film was a little too much on cue.)

As with many ecological issues, the Bush administration is not on the side of the angels. Mr Bush is "a strong ally [who has] steered hundreds of millions of dollars to develop technologies that could reduce coal emissions," to produce the concept of "clean coal," clearly shown in the film for the oxymoron that it is.

At the Landmark Sunshine, this week only. Trailer here.

Rate this a Ten (and take the kids)

I read A. O. Smith's article in the NY Times a few days ago on what films to take your kids to. Refreshingly, he is of the opinion that many "adult" films are more challenging and interesting for kids (after parental judgment, of course, is exercised) than the majority of "kid's films." In fact, he quotes his daughter commenting on Enchanted as having "no surprises." I am inclined to agree.

Taking his advice, the D. and I went to see Persepolis (City of Persians), the story of an Iranian girl who grew up just before and during the Iranian revolution, an animated feature based on Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel, and directed by her and Vincent Paronnaud. [image:Marjane defies some traditions in "Persepolis." (Sony Pictures Classic)]

In French with English subtitles (note to those of a certain age, like me: don't sit too far, they're hard to read,) this is an engrossing and vividly portrayed story of Marjane, roughly between the ages of eight and twenty. She is born in pre-revolutionary Iran, with a politically active set of family and friends, many of whom who are Communists. And many of whom fall prey to the revolution's harsh policies. After one too many deaths, her parents send her to Vienna as a teenager, where she stays until a failed love affair depresses her enough to return to Iran --- quite a metaphor in itself, and unsentimentally portrayed.

Almost all in black-and-white (the few color shots are in Vienna or Paris,) the animation is stunning in its evocative imagery, using the figure-ground dichotomy to maximum advantage as images  dissolve and coalesce from one to another. Nothing is particularly graphic, including the powerful imagery when Marjane notes that thousands of political prisoners were given a stark choice: vow allegiance to the regime or be executed; most were executed, she continues, as the white stylized heads of the black-and-white prisoners topple from their bodies.

The day-to-day incidents of life in Iran are chilling: Marjane, never one to toe the line, seems to invite trouble wherever she goes. Police watch her as she surreptitiously holds the hand of her lover; two busybody women assail her for wearing a T-shirt with a "Punk is not dead" slogan (little knowing that she has just bought a banned Iron Maiden CD;) armed police raid a party where the disaffected urban types she hangs out with are drinking and dancing (both illegal activities,) resulting in the death of one of her friends when he flees over the rooftops.

As a primer to Iran's recent tumultous history, particularly for kids, Persepolis has a lot going for it; while it is one person's viewpoint without any pretense of objectivity, it shows clearly the result of turning over a country to religious radicals. The level of control that the revolutionaries impose is total and stultifying. Noting that even playing cards are considered heretical, D. said "anything fun was banned, wasn't it?" Yes, and much more. Of the many contradictions shown, the women are forced to wear the chador, and have their rights curtailed but apparently still allowed to smoke in public.

A unique film. Sad and funny, emotion-laden but unsentimental, richly formatted yet simply-drawn and uncluttered. 

And the implications of a state-sanctioned religiosity should particularly resonate as the Republicans consider nominating Mr. Huckabee, that most overtly religious of their candidates.

Catholics Burn Theater Showing Golden Compass Movie!

[image:NewLine Cinema]

That's a headline you will probably never see in these United States of America.

There's a lot of news on religion going around nowadays. With all the earth-shaking and earth-warming events around us, with the economy faltering, the moral decrepitude shown by our administration-sanctioned torture chambers, our civil liberties being trampled on etc. etc., the most important news we get from the Republican candidates is apparently  whether they do, indeed, believe the Bible literally. Who cares, I think?

Well many do. Not perhaps in the insular (and mostly secular) enclave I have the pleasure to live in, but in the majority of the country. Religion is apparently important and pervasive. And touches even children's movies.

Philip Pullman is an author I had heard little of until the movie of his first book of the collectively entitled Dark Materials arrived, and the little D, who's way up on all this, began reading the Golden Compass two weeks ago. Pullman is a self-described atheist (brave man) and has suggested that his books are written as an antidote to the religious propaganda that he sees fed to kids everywhere (Pullman is British, and this may be more true where he lives, certainly, than in the thankfully state-separated-from-religion PS321 which my son attends.) He would like to "kill God," says Pullman.

Had US Christians been of the same bent as the many intolerant Muslims worldwide, Pullman's life would surely have been in jeopardy and his books burnt. A movie (made for kids!) from his heretical works would have been inconceivable, and, indeed (as has happened even in the much more tolerant India,) we would doubtless have seen the above headline in the news.

The movie Golden Compass has toned down the irreligiosity of the book (the bad guys, for example, are the "Church" in the book, and merely the "Magesterium" in the movie, still redolent of Christianity but would probably not register with kids.) This group, by the way, is bent on destroying the free will of the people and making them more docile, understanding and "happy." The best conceit of the story is that the embodiment of "free will" and/or the "spirit" appears as little animals that accompany all humans and serve as conscience, sooth-sayer and idea-bouncer. Makes for wonderful CGI graphics in the movie, but animalizing a soul-equivalent is not calculated to win religious hearts. And the Magisterium is bent on separating the little buggers from the children.

Therein lies the essential problem of religion for folks like me: the requirement to bow to a higher power vs. the supposed free will that humans have. Only if you adhere to a faith can you have the cognitive dissonance to let this pass without a struggle.

But all this had the Catholic powers in an uproar. Tried to organize a boycott (when will they ever learn that boycotts of books/films will only increase their appeal?) Then the  Catholic News Service (catholicnews .com), critics Harry Forbes and John Mulderig call the movie “lavish, well-acted and fast-paced. The good news is that the first book’s explicit references to this church have been completely excised, with only the term Magisterium retained." Therefore the thumbs-up review...it's just good, clean, non-heretical fun (which the movie actually is.)

This, by the way, has generated calls from the Catholic League for the critics to be fired for endorsing the movie.

As with the Harry-Potter-is-the-spawn-of-the-devil "controversy," much is made of the central character's rebelliousness (in this case, a girl, Lyra,) and attraction to adult figures who reject authority. Surprisingly the many (if not most) children's books which depict exactly this rebelliousness as a central part of their stories (think Roald Dahl) are not similarly excoriated. Perhaps it takes fame (and a movie) for the religious powers to rise up and complain. In any event, the complaints seem fated to be singularly ineffective.

Well, even as the father of a 9-1/2 year old wanna-be teenager  who can be plenty rebellious, I say more power to Pullman. I will be reading with him Books II and III, which are considered stronger meat than Book I.

I only wish the movie could've lived up to all this hype; it's good but not great. A little too fast paced, it feels rushed (as would a 2 hour movie from a 400 page book.) The acting, however is uniformly good; the production design beautiful and Nicole Kidman a wonderfully slithery embodiment of evil.

 

Trash Talk Romance

Brooklyn-born and Park Slope resident John Turturro wrote and directed the film Romance and Cigarettes, currently showing at the Film Forum in Manhattan. The film was deemed not releasable by Sony Pictures, and held up almost two years; it is now distributed by Turturro himself. His previous film, Illuminata, about a playwright struggling to produce his new play, was no more mainstream than this one, and we should be grateful for the continued exercise of Turturro's lively imagination.

This is an extraordinarily original, highly entertaining and very funny film featuring a stellar cast (James Gandolfini, Susan Sarandon, Kate Winslet, Steve Buscemi, Christopher Walken, Mary-Louise Parker among others, many of whom also appear in his previous film) and a supporting cast of sundry blue-collar-type singer/dancers, having the time of their lives in a bawdy (is it ever) kind-of-musical with oldie songs you thought you'd forgotten (try Connie Francis's Scapricciatiello (Do You Love Me Like You Kiss Me).)

This is the type of movie that's hard to describe better than that. It does have a simple if effective plot: it deals with the repercussions of Gandolfini's wife (Sarandon) discovering his torrid affair with lingerie saleswoman Winslet. The ensuing screaming match between them and their three daughters (who side with their mother) is only the first of many scenes where director Turturro manages to extract the best from his actors (or maybe worst, considering the many less-than-flattering close-ups of the female stars in the throes of intense emotion.)

Just after this, Gandolfini, thrown out of his house, breaks into Engelbert Humperdinck's A Man Without Love, and is joined in chorus by various garbagemen and others who happen to be on the street. Believe me, you have to see it to appreciate it. This is a film you want to see on the big screen.

In reply, Sarandon belts out Joplin's Piece of My Heart to allieviate her wronged woman's pain.

The story line unfolds predictably; but the devil is in the details. Gandolfini derives little insight from conversation with fellow worker Buscemi, whose views on women can best be summarized as hyper-male-chauvinistic pig like. But as with much in this movie, it can still draw laughs.

What's unpredictable here is the frequent stylized campy musical numbers; Walken with an over-the-top rendition of Delilah; Winslet with the unforgettable Scapricciatiello as the coda to what is probably the foulest-mouthed sex scene ever (which reveals no flesh; check youtube for music video); Winslet as a sex symbol in a flaming red party dress writhing in a burning building as dancing and singing firemen use a hose in, shall we say, a very suggestive manner.

Suspension of disbelief is important in the enjoyment of this movie. The daughters, for example, presumably teenagers, are played by Parker, Mandy Moore and Aida Turturro, the last only a few years younger than her screen father. Somehow this does not seem important after a while, but it's just an example of how Turturro keeps you off-balance.

The cinematography  by Tom Stern is also spectacular and original.

It's not surprising that this movie has gotten mixed reviews; seems like the further you are from the urban centers, the less favorably it's been received. As my friend KC mentioned, "it's a classic New York (soon to be) cult movie." And it's set in Queens.

The Catholic Film board has rated it O for "morally offensive," which may or may not be an additional incentive to see it.

But do see it!

Do Catch This Fallen Star

As the little D. and I walked out of Stardust, I said, "Well, that's a 10. I thought it was a ridiculously entertaining movie." At first his reaction was "Huh? that good?" and then he allowed as how he thought it was good, too. He is somewhat stingy with praise.

Stardust is probably the best of the movies I have seen with my son, most of which are formulaic (Eragon), overloaded with special effects (Transformers), trying too hard to be hip and funny (anything by Dreamworks) or marginally entertaining (too many to name.) I do, however, grit my teeth and go see them for his sake.

Stardust was an extremely pleasant exception. Based on the novella of the same name by Neil Gaiman, and directed by Matthew Vaughn, it has all the elements of the classic fantasy story... a Quest, a likable young hero (Charlie Cox), evil witches (four of them, Michele Pfeiffer being the most evil,) villainous characters (an airship captain (Robert De Niro) and several unsavory brothers who vie for the kingdom of Stormhold) and, unexpectedly, a true love story with the unlikely female star being, indeed, a real star...a fallen one, that is, in the shape of the beautiful, injured and cranky Claire Danes.

So this is not just for the kiddies; in fact, as it's rated PG-13, the several violent deaths may not sit well with younger kids; they may, however, depending on their predilections, relish the restrained but effective special effects, the periodic bloody reading of entrails that the witches use to predict the future, the intense suspense with attendant music and the many plot twists.

One of which is definitely for the adults...De Niro as a brutal and macho airship captain who, as it turns out, is not at all what he appears to be; his surprisingly campy performance, along with the mobster voice, steals the show.

The acting is uniformly good; Cox's character shows the full transformative range from gawky and lovelorn to heroic and loving. Pfeiffer's many mood swings and extreme changes of appearance between a weathered old hag and a beautiful young woman are a pleasure; Danes' performance is quite good in spite of her tendency to overdo the facial expressions, and her confession of love may bring tears to your eyes (even if that confession is being addressed to a rat;) and the others fill the bill ably.

And...it's also quite funny. Not in the snide way that many such movies are...nudge, nudge, wink wink (as the Pythons used to say,) here's a joke that will go over the kiddies' heads (though there are a couple of those,) but genuine humor that relieves tension.

In light of my previous kid-movie reviews, the one thing I could've been disappointed about was how white the cast was; no pretense at diversity here, blondness (literal or not) reigns. But is that any better than the Dreamworks/Pixar/Disney casting where a stereotypical person of color is used as a humor-inducing foil? Hard to say.

What to Read to Your Kids

Never too young to be educated. If you want your little tykes to be aware of the biggest challenge of the day---global warming---this book may be just the ticket for you; from treehugger (image from there)

What’s a writer and mom to do when she realizes that global warming is real and that kids and parents need to be aware of it? Write a book for kids and reach them both at the same time! That’s what Deborah Sherrell chose to do when she combined her love for the environment and love for kids in her recently published children's book, “Baby Lauren and Theodore”. To break the whole process of global warming down to a child’s-eye view the book explores the four seasons in a fun way while children learn the valuable role that trees play in the environment. And actually, the book stemmed from the fact that her daughter Lauren actually had a tree named Theodore, which helped her better understand and appreciate nature and the environment. Because as Sherrell points out, “...get them interested in loving nature early in life because global warming isn't going to go away and it's a huge problem, but we can all do something individually”. If you’d like to give it a shot, it’s available via her website and, of course, at amazon.com.

In other news, our friendly Senator James There-ain't-no-global-warming InHofe "is (from here):

"spending his last days in power attacking a children’s book on climate change, (Tore and the Town on Thin Ice.) The book, published by the United Nations in March, is “based on the theme of climate change and on what children can do to mitigate effects of climate change.” Inhofe’s staff breathlessly notes, “The book features colorful drawings and large text to appeal to young children.” Inhofe claims the book conveys inaccurate information about climate change to children.

If the little ones need further guidance, here's a list of books on the subject from Amazon. Happy nighttime reading!

Pottered Out

"Why," asks the little D., "are you so critical of Harry Potter now?"

We have just seen Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and, unbenownst to D., I had previously finished, in three marathon sessions, HP and the Deathly Hallows. Yes, I was Pottered out. And this from a fairly serious fan of the Magical World of Rowling.

You see, I say to D., when you read a non-serialized book (or see such a movie,) you're like an empty slate (a tabula rasa, I say, always eager to nudge his vocabulary,) and you let the author work his/her magic on you as you immerse yourself in the writing. A good author brings something fresh to every chapter, something new is revealed, something old is borrowed.

But a serial, by definition, is constrained, which is why so many of Volume II's are so disappointing. Rowling avoided the disappointments magisterially, and was constantly inventive, constantly juggling the many, many balls of her plot, constantly tying up or connecting loose ends from previous novels. In this she was masterful and it worked well through five books. VI and VII?...well...

I tell D. to avoid cliches in his nascent writing (which he does a lot of,) because cliches are like the wormholes in that apple, empty but assertive. And, I continue, in an epic spanning, oh, what, some 3,500+ pages, how could an author not create her own cliches? You start noticing these. I mention that, inevitably, the freshness disappears, like taking another bite of the apple you're saving for some reason from the day before. Inevitably you see constructs seen before, plot lines mentioned two volumes before, conceits you noted three books ago. Formulas emerge.

So I'm Pottered out. The movie was ... acceptable as D. would say of many things he does not want to expound on. Episodic, jumpy, almost...dare I say it...boring? Bring back Prisoner of Azkaban, I thought as I saw it.

And the book? Unlike the others, Hallows starts with action that continues more-or-less non-stop, with few quiet chapters. While Rowling has mastered, as always, the writing of action and conflict, the feeling is muted, mechanical, and the needed suspension of disbelief (even in a novel set in a magical world,) too high. I take casual note of the increasingly common coincidences. One more jet of light that barely misses [enter name]'s head and I thought I'd scream. Can't the entire might of the Death Eaters and Voldemort finish Potter off more smartly? Flashback-- how come the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore in the film showed such immense power? Does Voldemort hold himself back when faced with Potter? And can he never get there on time when apprised of Harry's capture (again?) But after all, there's another 500 pages to go.

And, the final disappointment...the Hollywood ending comes to the Harry Potter series. The ending's pretentious enough, but a more smarmy epilogue would be hard to imagine. Wait, you say, it's a children's book, it has to have a happy ending...bs, I reply, Rowling has been aging the story to keep up with its readers and every book from III on has been darker than the previous. This is a book where Mrs. Weasly screams the female-dog word. Hardly kid stuff. So an ending involving three happy couples and their euphoniously named multiple children all happily swarming on Platform 9-3/4 does not cut it.

Yet...Rowling is smart. It is an end (I hope.)  Perhaps she is cognizant of the unending-series issues, and, although 2-1/2 books too late, she has wisely chosen an unambiguous conclusion.

Thank you for the wild ride, Ms. Rowling! 

It's the enjoyment, stupid!

It's a good thing that I didn't read reviews of La Vie en Rose, the biopic about Edith Piaf, before I went to see it, thanks to my sister-in-law's hearty recommendation.  After thoroughly relishing this film, out of curiosity I went back to read some reviews and was, to say the least, amazed at the one-sidedness of even famous reviewers.

Maybe it should be pointed out that not everything is susceptible to deconstruction and analysis (though I must confess these are favorite sports of mine;) one can enjoy a film/play/book just because, well, because it's so enjoyable!

NY Times reviewer A. O. Scott seems to have had a bad day when he saw it: "No one else could possibly be Edith Piaf," he says, and, while admiring [star] Cotillard for her "discipline and ferocity," he continues "But it is equally hard to be completely swept up in [director] Dahan’s dutiful, functional and ultimately superficial film." whose "main casualty of this willy-nilly narration is any coherent sense of Piaf’s personality."

Rubbish. He must have been dozing, as there are plenty of vignettes which flesh Piaf out. This is a 2hr 20min. film, not a book-length biography (for which see The Piaf Legend, Bret, Edith Piaf, Piaf and Berteaut, etc.) And the non-chronological narration in the film really flows well.

From Jeffrey Anderson of cinematical we get: "Actors love them...because they offer a chance for rich, multi-faceted roles..the Academy voters love biopics, because they offer an easy way to fill up awards ballots...Filmmakers love them because they're easy to make and sell...Everybody wins, except the...[c]asual audience members [who] may believe they've seen the essence of a famous person's life."

Quelle  condescendance! as the French might say. Well, this decidedly non-casual audience member begs to disagree strongly. Made me want to read the 600-page biographies.

Besides being able to enjoy the soaring sound of Piaf's music, the acting by Marion Cotillard, who portrays Piaf from her teens to a very-old 47-year-old, is astonishing. Watch her as she comes out to sing, even when famous, like a deer caught in headlights, her momentary hesitation before belting out the song, then back to what seems like her utter surprise at the ensuing standing ovation. The production design is spot-on; the supporting acting uniformly strong; the occasional sentimentality well-controlled.

True to Piaf? Probably, from what one reads about her. A biographically accurate portrayal? Who cares if it's not out of place and fun to watch?

Piaf says in the movie after her disappointing US debut, "Americans don't get me." Some American reviewers don't get this film. Too bad for them.