Rear Window

I could go on a several paragraph rant about how Rear Window is one of Hitchcock's best, how awesome of a year 1954 was with this coming out along with On the Waterfront, how Jimmy Stewart was unbelievably attractive, and how cute the dog was. But a won't. Actually, this will probably be somewhat lengthy seeing as it is one of the giants of 50s cinema (and cinema in general for that matter). In that case, the first few sentences of this post were irrelevant.

There's no denying there was something misogynistic about the way Hitchcock handled his female characters. Dated as it may feel, I think the direction he took with Grace Kelly's "female intuition" was a smart--and necessary-- move. This woman is not meant to be the equal of the man she loves: she is supposed to show the audience just what Jeff is missing by not marrying her. And it works. What audience doesn't want Jeff to come to his senses and take advantage of the fact that he has goddamn Grace Kelly throwing herself at him? On a more serious note, Hitchcock's misogyny really takes a backseat once Lisa becomes instrumental to catching Thorwald. She's the one with the hardest of evidence (the wedding ring) and the guts to run up a fire escape ladder in thousand dollar dress. 

It's interesting to think about the titular window being watched by the neighbors. This is touched on in that lovely (and chilling) shot where Thorwald and Jeff finally make eye contact, but for the rest of the film it seems that Jeff is the only one in the neighborhood who cares...or is a Peeping Tom. I'm not going to get into all the modern-day implications of Jeff's actions ("does the government have the right to snoop?!?!?!") but they certainly explain some of the film's continual appeal.

Background noise is prevalent throughout the film. We hear a neighboring songwriter playing the piano, a woman singing scales, and "Miss Torso" chattering to her elderly company ("wolves", as Lisa puts it). These sounds remind us that Jeff's apartment is not separate from the others, really: everyone is in earshot. "Love thy neighbor".

Waiting a million years...just for us

I first learned about Picnic at Hanging Rock from the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die (which I've been glued to for two years) and was instantly intrigued. I finally saw it yesterday after several failed attempts on Youtube. 

On a visual level, the film takes the old "nature encroaching upon mankind" story to a whole new level. We see several shots of a beautiful St. Valentine's Day cake being devoured by ants. Later, there is a similar series of still images of Miranda, Irma, Marion and Edith napping amongst lizards, ants and flies. A red light nearly consumes Edith as she runs screaming down the mountain. Peter Weir hints that whatever happened to the girls was something far more sinister and mysterious than a kidnapping or even rape or murder ("I have examined her, and she is quite intact," the doctor quietly tells the college staff of both Edith and Irma). 

All around are images of beauty: the ethereal Miranda washing her face in a basin filled with flowers, Mademoiselle des Poitiers reading about Boticelli's The Birth of Venus, and a swan swimming alone. The doctor describes Irma's injuries in great detail-- he speaks of torn and ragged fingernails and bad bruises on the head-- but we never see them. The scene of the ants eating the cake is almost shocking, as it follows tableaux of the beautiful, delicate young girls lounging. Obviously, these different sorts of images provide contrast between the beauty and the beast that swallowed it. Is there anything more? I'll have to think on it.

Away We Go

I will be the first to proclaim my hatred for hipster scum. Twee little soundtracks to the likes of Garden State and Juno do not interest me. I have disdain for those who claim to have "food babies". All of these preferences (or lack thereof) SHOULD have made me dislike Away We Go. But no-- this film is the victim of false marketing, of ads catering to quirky college grads, and it is actually the best movie I've seen in theatres so far in 2009. 

For one thing, the cast is a dream team. Catherine O'Hara, Allison Janney, and Maggie Gyllenhaal-- three of my favorite working actresses-- get the chance to be off-the-walls hilarious. I'm no SNL fan but I certainly appreciate Maya Rudolph's grounded talent. John Krasinski is delightful. And it's always nice to see Melanie Lynskey pop up, now that she's grown up and not killing her mother or anything. Sam Mendes, who I've come to expect little from, lets his ensemble do their own thing, which is an unbelievable breath of fresh air from the overplayed arguments of Revolutionary Road in 2008. 

The screenplay is devoid of snobby references to Truffaut, monkey fruit or Nietszche. I am eternally grateful. The audience actually gets a chance to get to know the characters, from the straight-faced leads Rudolph and Krasinski to batshit crazy Gyllenhaal and Janney. I left the theatre having caught a glimpse of the very real hopes and dreams of a very likable couple-- not with an intimate knowledge of a fictional character's taste in music.

Well-played, Mr. Mendes et al. 

Oh, and if you're skeptical because of the hipster advertising, don't be. John Krasinski wears polo shirts and khaki shorts throughout the film and there are no Shins songs to be found. Rest assured that your pretentious-ness factor will not go up. 

Fandango

I've used this handy site for quite a few outings to the movie theatre in the past several years. Why?

1. No risk of getting carded. 

2. It's useful for getting into any showing in Evanston, which will inevitably be sold out on Saturday nights thanks to Northwestern hipsters.

3. I usually forget I bought a ticket, so I bring $20 to the theatre only to realize I can spend it all on snacks.

4. It gets rid of any need to get to the movie ahead of time (or on time at all).

5. It makes me look smarter than my friends who didn't Fandango at a sold-out showing (à la Away We Go last night)

Taking a look at the ladies of Synecdoche, New York

Catherine Keener certainly never disappoints, not even when she has little to do, and she certainly has little to do here. She's never phony and her natural body language is a welcome contrast to the other young ladies Caden interacts with. 

Samantha Morton has the most screen time. She's got a very unique presence, to say the least. I can imagine a lesser actress infusing the role purely with sexuality and desire, and thank god Morton does not. She makes Hazel likable, even sympathetic. Her nasal voice and almost cute speech patterns add some layers as well. 

I was most excited for Michelle Williams and was quite impressed with how she played Claire. The character veers from tolerable to unbearable for the audience; luckily, Williams handles Claire with empathy and without judgment. Her scenes with Tom Noonan are particularly affecting.

The more I think about the film, the more I remember Emily Watson, who at first didn't make that much of an impression on me. Now, though, the image of her naked and beckoning "Pretty Caden" to bed is stuck in my head. She really took a nothing part and used it to her advantage. Oh, and who would've guessed that she and Samantha Morton look so much alike?

Dianne Wiest. Beautiful. Always.

I was also delighted to see Deirdre O'Connell work wonders with another tiny part. Love her, love her, love her.

Hope Davis more than does her job. 

I think it's safe to say that the ladies in this film rise above what could have been mediocre material to work with. Nice job, everyone.

I've watched you forever, Caden, but you've never really looked at anyone other than yourself.

Synecdoche, New York. One of my most anticipated of 2008 that I never saw. It got polarized reviews; "one of those films you either love or hate," I would hear. I neither love nor hate Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut. I'm pretty unfamiliar with Kaufman in the first place. I've only seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and about a third of Adaptation., which was enough to inform me of the utter self-loathing that crawls under his genius, which is certainly a key part of Synecdoche. (A synecdoche, by the way, is "is a type of metaphor in which the part stands for the whole, the whole for a part, the genus for the species, the species for the genus, the material for the thing made, or in short, any portion, section, or main quality for the whole or the thing itself or vice versa", according to http://www.virtualsalt.com.) It's tough to watch the film without connecting Caden (played by the brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman) to the author. Yeah, yeah, you're not supposed to judge the art by the artist, so I'll refrain from making any judgments about the film based on my opinions of Kaufman himself. 

I think that had I watched the film with any clear expectations (dreck, masterpiece, etc.) I would have been sorely disappointed. I was, actually, sorely disappointed by the first two acts; not only because it was slow but because I was seeing nothing new. Mismatched married couple, check; cute daughter, check; dreadful separation for which the wife is the one responsible, check; prospects for affair, check. Thankfully, the promise shown by the cast, the score (repetitive yet profound), and the writer/director blossomed into several gorgeous final scenes. The end of the film, starting with Hazel and Caden's long-awaited reconciliation, contains all the poetic emotion and gauziness of a play by Tennessee Williams (certainly not that of Arthur Miller; Caden's adaptation of Death of a Salesman is almost comical earlier on). This is certainly helped by the presence of Dianne Wiest, one of those actresses that kids my age like to refer to as "the nice lady from Edward Scissorhands". Her very voice reminds us, the audience, of the theatricality of the whole movie that is a result not of Caden's project, which has less significance than the moods and relationships it influences.