Eye-on-the-pie-in-the-sky Reviews

Heat (1995)

The Haze of L.A. Lights Never Looked Better

[10/10 · 19 August 2006]

A lacquered film, yes, but brimming with thought and accepted axioms is Michael Mann's "Heat" (1995). You won't see any glam cops strutting their way down an imaginary runway (Michael Mann was a strong force for the TV series "Miami Vice") but you will see plausibly hardened characters who struggle and keep in cadence with their respective propensities.

L.A.P.D. Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino) is a consummate professional in law enforcement and investigation. Seasoned thief Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro) is a consummate professional in stealing in all its forms - he's an ironically considerate one, though ("Your money is insured by the federal government - you're not gonna lose a dime," he harangues a frightened bunch of customers as he's holding up a bank.). Most of the film is spent watching these two attempt to outmaneuver each other - as if this were a game of chess using real people instead of pieces made out of wood.

These two men are the same type, except one plays yin to the other's yang. There's a scene of dialogue between the two in a coffee shop of all places that almost jumps off the screen it's so crammed with kinetic energy - it's like what it would be like to witness a conversation between Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. In it they both reveal their inescapable connection to their respective jobs - they love their women but cannot properly fit them in to their time-consuming routines. It's as if they're both resigned to their fates - they know one of them is going to die due to the heat coming around the corner…

Coppola's "The Godfather Part II" is the best of all crime films and it seems appropriate that this one ranks in as a close runner-up - these two films are the only ones to have both Pacino and De Niro simultaneously in the cast. Both films are exquisite pieces of art in the guise of entertainment flicks. The former being about the gradual and inevitable annihilation of a family due to the nature of preoccupation - the latter being about the nature of preoccupation that precluded everything else.

The Da Vinci Code (2006)

Opie Gone Iconoclastic

[2/10 · 23 May 2006]

Parentally irresponsible scions of Christ, a scholarly academic who keeps saying "supposably", and that obnoxious jerk-off from "A Knight's Tale" as a fascist Catholic albino psycho-killer who bared his fanny WAY too much. We've arrived at the cinematic stop known as "The Da Vinci Code" ladies and gents.

Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) gets involved in a criminal conspiracy that has gargantuan implications – during a 24-hour period he has more revelations than Tom Cruise has social embarrassments during the past year. All the ecumenically iconoclastic assertions (theories, really) that are made during this movie have a stultifying effect on the mind – you start to not care about anything…and it seems like that is the movie's goal.

It was funny because as soon as the opening credits started to roll in a pseudo-mysterious way with the clichéd orchestral accompaniment that's supposed to inspire "profundity" I knew that this was going to be a bad movie…and it was (oh boy, it was).

BB

Serenity (2005)

All aboard the "Sardonic"! er, I mean "Serenity"!

[9/10 · 15 April 2006]

Tongue-in-cheek sci-fi Blader Runner-esquire epic…with a touch of class and pathos is Joss Whedon's "Serenity". The sarcastic humor was a bit too ubiquitous - indeed, these no-names have no business preening - but it was easily overlooked due to the impressive acting and moments of keen emotion.

A big flaw, though, is that the story was much too complex to compress into a single, feature-length film. The television series, I imagine since I've never seen it, is probably much better. Of course, the special effects budget would suffer, but does that really matter? There's a remarkably interesting narrative underpinning that would probably work even better in novel form (but, then again, almost Everything would).

After watching this movie I felt a great sense of satisfaction that is quite rare. It's almost as if all the bad movies I watch are a necessary experience to be had in order to fully appreciate a truly GOOD film - like this one.

Grizzly Man (2005)

And a mere young boy will be leader over them all

[10/10 · 20 February 2006]

At least, that's what Timothy Treadwell thought in his own mind in Werner Herzog's "Grizzly Man". Indeed, Timothy Treadwell is really not so extraordinary than what we at first think – there are people out there who usurp reality with fantasy on a consistent basis. The only difference between those people and Treadwell is that the latter took his flight of fancy to the Alaskan wilderness.

Herzog, with a welcome and somewhat eerily detached view, narrates this documentary based on found footage of Treadwell's summer expeditions to the Alaska wilderness where he "protects" and "interacts" with mainly the grizzly bears that live there. He "loves" these bears more than anything else – his devotion is clearly seen in the mini-homage he makes to still-warm grizzly bear excrement.

Is he a whacko? Well, insofar as his lifestyle is absent of normalcy. Herzog, in a brilliant move, simply observes this man and vocalizes philosophical ruminations that come across his mind. A friend of mine wisely said that if Herzog in any way "sympathized" with Treadwell then this documentary would be a dud – a piece of dreck that would barely be Discovery Channel worthy.

Throughout the doc do we understand that Treadwell and his girlfriend were ferociously attacked, killed and partially eaten by at least one grizzly. This is quite remarkable because it doesn't build any "suspense" as regards what's going to happen to this guy. If Herzog went that route then this would be a trite snuff film. However, with the facts clearly laid out early in the feature does it force us to meditate on the existential crisis Treadwell had resolved in his mind by "living" with these bears.

There's a scene that shows Treadwell on an extended tirade against all that is normal in human society – even society that has a share in regulating the land the grizzly bears reside. Here it becomes all too clear that Treadwell is (was, I should say) a man that couldn't adapt to normal society – he was "done" with humans, so to speak. The illusion he created that stars himself as "master" over the wild creatures in Alaska is obviously foolish to us but cathartic and comforting to him. Treadwell found paradise – but his paradise was a place where neither he nor anyone else belonged.

Conspiracy Theory (1997)

Star Trek Captains Gone Wild!

[1/10 · 3 February 2006]

Well, Picard doesn't exactly go topless but he was a few blowtorches short of a crème brulee in Richard Donner's "Conspiracy Theory" (1997).

This is vapid cinema at its most Donneresque – you know: the pointless violence, unexciting thriller situations and dialogue that make six-year-olds grimace. Here we have a conspiracy theorist (Mel Gibson) that…ohmigawd, is actually involved IN a conspiracy theory! He is inexplicably tracking a member of the Justice Department (Julia Roberts) for seemingly prurient reasons (who can blame him?). After some time did I get the understanding that these two are connected by an event of both their pasts…however, by the time I reached this epiphany (?) I was so stultified by the boringly kinetic action that I really couldn't care less. (Just LET the CIA off 'em, 'kay?)

How utterly disappointing that this film doesn't live up to its title – nowhere do we truly get a grasp of the paranoia of a plausible conspiracy theory. Instead, all we have is Gibson spouting ridiculously far-fetched stories of collusion and ignobility. The façade of a conspiracy theory is all that is used as a VEHICLE for the interminable action. Sleep is the new on-the-edge-of-your-seat in somewhat recent action films.

Three Colors: Red (1994)

Red and Black/Light and Shadow

[10/10 · 16 January 2006]

With an overwhelming sense of relief have I come to fall in love all over again with "Trois couleurs: Rouge".

This is a story about a woman, Valentine; she is a model of both fashion and magnanimity. She encounters a former judge turned petty eavesdropper who inadvertently helps her become a little wiser to human nature. We think we have a happy ending on our hands but is her, at long last (after several near-encounters), first meeting with what we believe to be a good man for her serendipitous or is it impassive fate? These are themes that encapsulate this exhilarating movie; also there is nearness and distance, confusion and clarity, blood and sweat - in short, life.

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Lucas' Latest Belch

[1/10 · 30 December 2005]

Now, don't get me wrong: I don't mind escapist entertainment – what the Star Wars universe is all about. HOWEVER, the narrative material that was dealt with here was indeed tragic. Come on, we knew what was going to happen in the end, we just came to see HOW it was going to happen. But was it appropriate to unfold this as hollow-like as possible?

Anakin is a classic victim of a divided heart – on one hand his wife, the other his duty (hello cliché!). One of them has to win out or…none of them. A loser is what he became – of humanity, purpose and happiness. These are excellent ingredients for a movie striving for pathos that can make one feel exultingly sorrowful and mightily satisfied. Alas, Lucas has more love for his parlor tricks than the people who are trapped inside them. Indeed, it's remarkable that the PEOPLE are the vehicles for the special effects.

Whatever happened to the people BEING the special effects? Has both filmmaker and film audience alike become so misanthropic that what's cold and lifeless rises above that which genuinely feels and struggles?

And what of the constant self-cribbing that I saw? Everything, from dialogue to hairdos, was taken from the earlier Star Wars features. The sheer LAZINESS of the storytelling nearly had me screaming out of the theatre. Is it that Lucas ran out of ideas or did he intentionally wish to feebly and unambiguously congratulate the geeks on their knowledge of Star Wars trivia? Does any of this even matter to begin with?

(groan)

I guess it is just to each his own. There are those who like the pretty shapes and colors alone. For myself, I prefer some FEELING from my characters in the movies. If all that's left of mainstream cinema is just a bunch of somnambulistic, spasmodic messes on celluloid then let it all burn in an apocalyptic fire for all I care.

King Kong (2005)

Here, Let Me Peel That "Banana" For You

[7/10 · 27 December 2005]

Movie geeks everywhere, rejoice! The update of all updates has finally arrived! Yes, one of the most outrageous and offbeat love stories ever told has been beefed up and re-tooled by the current maven of filmic fantasy. Indeed, Peter Jackson does a splendid job with his vision of "King Kong".

Ann Darrow (the ever fabulous and future wife of mine Naomi Watts) is a vaudeville performer looking to make ends meet during the Depression of the 1930's. After getting a tip from an agent of some sort she ends up outside the doors of a disreputable revue. When her pride and prejudice kicks in she triumphantly marches away as a paragon of morality. Little does she know that a film despot (director) has just spotted her and wants to cast her in his pie-in-the-sky film (Jack Black is almost too perfectly cast in this role). After convincing her to come on board the enterprise (and, literally, the boat that takes us to Skull Island) we start to get the understanding that the fantastical will soon come in to play.

With much trepidation from the crew of the ship we FINALLY (after more than an hour of the movie!) get to Skull Island – the last undiscovered piece of land in the world (according to the Jack Black character). The crew and passengers discover a curious band of natives that seem familiar. Indeed, Jackson performs a little self-plagiarizing by making his freaky primitives look positively orc-like. Anyway, Ann gets kidnapped by the natives and is "offered" to their god and king (you know who). So, after she's taken most of the rest of the movie (up until the New York scene) is just about the crew and what's left of the passengers searching for her in order to rescue her from the product of Darwinian irony, the King of the Planet of the Ape (king only by a process of elimination).

You know what happens at the end so I won't bother synopsizing here.

What struck me as incredible is the level of detail Kong exhibits. This level of complexity in CGI (computer generated imagery) both astounds and unsettles me. What does it say about others and myself when we become emotionally involved and care about a bunch of pixels and anthropomorphic activity that resembles both a gorilla and a human being respectively? Indeed, it is as if our escapist proclivities are reaching boiling levels and are, therefore, taking us further and further away from reality.

Or, maybe a movie is just a movie and I should just stop worrying and love the bomb.

Sideways (2004)

Puerile Men On Parade

[9/10 · 20 December 2005]

Caddish and snobbish behavior is the order of the day in Alexander Payne's "Sideways" (2004). Our heroes (?) Miles (Paul Giamatti) and Jack (Thomas Haden Church) hit the road on a trip through the wine country in Northern California – this is sort of a last hurrah for the two as confirmed bachelors seeing how Jack is getting married in a week.

We begin by watching Miles shuffle through his morning begrudgingly obliging his neighbors by moving his car so that they can move, make up phony excuses for being late for an appointment, dropping f-bombs at the slightest of inconveniences and swinging by the local coffee shop in order to enjoy an espresso, a spinach croissant (enunciated in perfect French) and the latest New York Times. In short, he's me in fifteen years.

Miles picks up Jack in Los Angeles (Miles lives in San Diego) and off they go to the little slice of heaven for oenophiles everywhere. The former is determined to show the latter a great time, "We'll enjoy some great wine, play a little golf and have some fabulous dinners". It's not too long before we learn that Jack, in his trademark 19-year-old frat boy way, is determined to snatch himself some NSA copulation before the week is up (all to Miles' horror for obvious reasons). "But, you're getting married THIS Saturday!" Jack is unconcerned with the moral implications and also wants his buddy to join in on the fun. Miles chafes at a "fling" – in his mind, he was just recently divorced (two years ago). He is unable to let his ex-wife fade from his mind no matter what opportunities come up (no pun intended).

Pretty soon we meet Maya (Virginia Madsen) and Stephanie (Sandra Oh from "Grey's Anatomy") who become the matches to Miles and Jack respectively. Maya is patient, intelligent and learned of the fine art of wine. Stephanie is scruffy, gorgeous and explosively passionate. This group goes through some turbulent moments in such a short period of time but it's suitable considering the moral vacuum that the men are living in. Soon, the cat is out of the bag and there's rage, blood and lust that hits the fan and scatters all coherence of adult life to the wind.

What fascinates me is how much I dislike these two guys…but I can't stop watching to see what happens next. The ambiguity of the apparent "life changes" that these two undergo haunts me. Can people such as these truly change or do they just suppress? Despite the heart stomping that occurs there is a relatively happy ending for these two even though they don't deserve it. However, I strangely found myself wanting these contemptible morons to succeed. Maybe, in actuality, I just see this as wanting myself to succeed.

Indecent Proposal (1993)

The Salacious Sundance Kid Wants A Piece Of It

[6/10 · 15 August 2005]

At once admirable and a gorgeous piece of trash is Adrian Lyne's "Indecent Proposal" (1993). Can I get an "amen" for affirming that Mr. Lyne is one of the best purveyors of cinematic relationship-angst? Indeed, his "Fatal Attraction" (1987) is one of the most horrifying and entertaining movies I've ever seen.

David and Diana Murphy (Woody Harrelson and Demi Moore respectively…obviously) are relatively new to matrimony but are deliriously happy and have big plans for their future. David is an adept architect looking to complete his and his wife's dream house in Santa Monica. Diana is a realtor who pays the bills until the dream is fulfilled. Everything is going great: the blueprints and models have been constructed, the land bought and, of course, the California sun is perpetually shining through the smoggy haze. And then, fate deals them a moral and ethical blow. What leads up to this is an economic recession in which Diana cannot sell a single piece of property and their current assets are in danger of being liquidated. In a spontaneous, desperate measure they both go to Sin City and attempt to raise enough money in order to keep their property and dream alive. They do good for the first night: they brought their original $5000 to $25,000 and celebrate the way all gambling couples do by converting that $25,000 into hard currency, throwing it on a Hilton bed and moistly copulating on and around it. It was quite poetically philosophical in evoking the notion that money has become the apotheosis of sexual lubricant.

John Gage (Robert Redford) is a filthy rich womanizer who gets off playing high-stakes blackjack and buying the unbuyable. He encounters the babealicious Diana and immediately realizes that he has something new to distract himself with. Through a complicated series of events he makes the titular offer by exchanging one night with Diana for one million dollars. Quite instinctively, the couple are horrified and indignant. However, later that evening, Diana says that it would only be her body and not her mind or spirit that Gage will have. After debating they agree to the proposal and so forth the conspicuous and financed affair goes.

Afterward (did they…you know, do it?) Diana comes back and they both think that this is something that can be put behind them as long as they never talk about it. Well, David just can't live with that as a little time goes by (could you?) and absolutely insists on finding out what happened that fateful evening. Diana eventually caves and says that there was sex and that it was fantastic. This doesn't mean that she doesn't love David anymore but David takes this a sign that she doesn't love him anymore anyway (men are from Mars, after all). There's a fallout, divorce papers and a bona-fide relationship that begins to develop between Diana and John (he pursues, she relents, the cheetah gets the zebra). Yet after all this we get the super-duper mega happy ending.

The ending aside we get some interesting subtleties throughout the film. John Gage is urbane to the Wayne Newton degree and the couple couldn't be less disingenuous and self-righteous than the Republican Party. There is a great deal of flirtation and insinuation that is truly riveting and, at times, quite plausible. However, if this were real life, there's NO WAY the two would be as ultimately conciliatory as they come to be by the end of the film. Call me provincial but, in my eyes, the marriage covenant is inviolable and incapable of repair after such a devastating blow.

The Holy Girl (2004)

A Seemingly Great Film

[5/10 · 27 June 2005]

More admirable than attractive is Lucrecia Martel's "The Holy Girl" – even at this time I am feeling a steady amount of ambivalence toward this maddeningly beautiful film. Is this kind of paradoxical relationship even possible? Even the proverbial sinner in his love/hate toward expiation seems dubious.

The film follows Amalia and her friend Josefina's exploits as they navigate their way through a summer of adolescence. Sanctimonious doesn't even begin to describe them – indeed, Amalia is wanting to screw a man she's trying to "save" while Josefina regards her Catholic school teacher with disdain due to the good teacher's sexual adventures even though Josefina herself takes it up the arse from her horny boyfriend. This shopworn irony regarding the duality and dialectical impulses in hormonal, affectedly pious people grows wearisome on the attention span.

Okay, but I used the adjective "beautiful" earlier. And it most certainly is from a logistical standpoint. The DP composed seemingly interminable, achingly gorgeous shots of the action. He had no qualms about not using deep-focus photography (in which everything in the frame is in focus). This style harks back to the old American B&W's in which they were not afraid to focus on only one piece of the frame while leaving the rest in a blurry discombobulation. A power erupts from the screen the more pronounced these shots are. However, it must be said, the steady frequency of all this becomes stultifying to an annoying degree – like chocolate in endless supply, it becomes too much of a good thing.

This cloying film would have been great if it didn't try so hard to be a great film. Art house flicks mostly subscribe to an overly snobby and abundantly complex ideological schema. Is a show-off praiseworthy? Not in this case.

Los Angeles Plays Itself (2003)

"L.A." = ineffable

[10/10 · 4 April 2005]

Trenchant and epic in size is Thom Andersen's "Los Angeles Plays Itself" – a doc that analyzes representation as much as it analyzes representation of Los Angeles itself.

How I adored the narrator's (Encke King) voice! It was at once sardonic and annoyed – a reflection of Andersen's emotional regard toward the whole matter, no doubt. What we hear are critical observations of the film clips that we see – there are quite literally dozens and dozens of clips here. This may seem disorienting and exhausting (to the interest level) but it's not. So struck with the compelling argument that Andersen presents to us do the hours fly by like minutes (not vice versa as Addison DeWitt said in "All About Eve").

Funny/interesting it is how this doc is set up like a conventional narrative film that Hollywood is guilty of routinely (and cloyingly) pushing on to the consumer - first we laugh and then we cry. The only difference here (and it's a big one) is that we're looking at actual subjects that existed or still exist. We cry for Los Angeles, you ask? Well, I'm not at liberty to discuss the poignancy that's present – it must be experienced firsthand in order to attain those surprise tears that are greatly missing in our movies.

Crazy/Beautiful (2001)

A slam-dunk for Dunst

[7/10 · 29 March 2005]

Appearing like a feature-length credit card commercial advertisement is John Stockwell's film dubiously entitled "Crazy/Beautiful". In it we have bedroom-eyed youth, awestruck-eyed youth and obtuse-eyed youth – sometimes all three at once. The big question on everyone's mind, though, is "Can we exist in this movie?"

Kirsten Dunst has never before looked so ravishingly frumpy here – the boozing and the slight substance abuse problem notwithstanding. Inexplicably does the designated cutie-boy (Jay Hernandez) become attracted to this waif-like suburbanite – he buses everyday for two hours (each way) to the same swanky school that only takes her a brief bender to get to. Intent on "making something of himself" (by desiring to enlist for the armed services?) does he do this due to his background being only slightly above the lower-class line of society – his brother being something of a failure in his mother's eyes (the brother heartily agrees!).

Of course, with the Mary Jane-inflected meet-cute do we know where this movie is headed. The Capulet and Montague setting is all to conspicuous but for some reason…I didn't care. Dunst carries this claptrap all on her shoulders without the least bit of strain – her acting (or is it reacting?) abilities are extraordinary. By the end, we care what the hell happens to these two crazy lovebirds. Genre films of this caliber usually are a repellent at first sight, but…there are always exceptions.

Contempt (1963)

Blatant melodrama with a postmodern twist

[9/10 · 7 March 2005]

Jack Palance oscillates on an anonymous, uncovered veranda somewhere on the Cinecitta lot all the while lamenting the passing and fading of gods and kings – his contemporaries that have left him to his unchecked designs. The mortals – us – can only look in bewilderment.

Modernized Greek myth or just another feat by the insurmountable Jean-Luc Godard? Almost everyone reading will choose the latter, of course, except for the self-condemning master himself. This meta-romance movie can be simultaneously ridiculed and gawked at in wonder.

Awash in primary colors are we taken along the gliding camera movements as we watch a sublimated implosion of a marriage take place. Paul and Camille seem to have embarked on their frustrating relationship while their ship was already on the rocks – the gentle current of matrimonial bliss is kept a league's length away. "Why don't you love me anymore?" says he. "Because you're an ass," says she. As vulgar as this exchange seems it only gets worse – soon there are forbidden kisses, indecent proposals and, gulp, declarations of principles (whatever).

The prurient exposition is thankfully offset by the frequent appearances of a certain septuagenarian known as Fritz Lang. But, can this essentially exploitative showman bring a degree of respectability to the film? Well, even a sex worker is dignified due to technicality once old enough – so, sure.

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Noir photography and screwball situation reconciled!

[9/10 · 4 March 2005]

As light as a feather that fell from a mallard that the eponymous leopard ate is Howard Hawks' "Bringing Up Baby". All genuflect before Hawks as the greatest of all cinema's entertainment directors!

Kate Hepburn and Cary Grant shine as the screwballs in this zany, fantastical and weirdly chiaroscuro dreamland that's somewhere in this US of A. Soon-to-be-married Dr. David Huxley (Grant) is engaged to a career-supportive what's-her-name (her appearances are so fleeting that she's more like fog than a supporting character) – everything is in place for a satisfying career in paleontology for the dorky doctor…except for the grant, that is (this first scene features a full-scale brontosaur skeleton which becomes a metaphor for Huxley's future prospects). Off he goes to see about collecting those much-needed funds from some wealthy socialite who has money to burn. No sooner is he out golfing/begging does he run into the free-spirited Susan Vance (Hepburn). Through a series of bizarre, implausible encounters and misunderstandings do these two keep each other company - and the audience intrigued by extension.

Interesting how Hawks' later feature "His Girl Friday" is the inverse reflection of this movie. Cary Grant's Huxley wants to further his career and Rosalind Russell's Johnson is looking to get out of hers – both making ultimate decisions unexpected to themselves but all too obvious to the audience. Was Hawks conscious of his equal treatment of both genders in their relations to their careers? It's ruminations like these that keep his work so fresh, so…democratic?

Sure "Bringing Up Baby" skims the surface of life, but don't almost all movies do the same thing? Our interest, on the other hand, is held by the axioms presented to us in tolerable doses – the mysteries of serendipity and coincidence that have the faculty to alter lives. This movie is inexplicably principled on reality. Is it at all surprising that our chief leads who strive to break the mold of quotidian existence end up in prison?

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)

Politics and media through the prism of a Western.

[14 November 2004]

East meets West in John Ford's 'The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance' (1962). James Stewart's character is a lawyer from more 'civilized' parts of the U.S. while John Wayne's character is a not-so-legal vigilante from the grittier portion. To say that there are clashes in this film is to say that Western cinema is like an ass (of the quadruped variety) that expired long ago but the rider still feels compelled to flog it. The love triangle: Wayne's Tom, Stewart's Ransom and Marvin's Liberty is a shotgun wedding and perpetual squabble until the last man is standing. Of course Tom and Liberty are enemies by default according to Western cinema standards but when you throw Ransom into the mix then you've got gin with your oil and water (a most unholy cocktail). An allegory for the evolution of political careers? Check! Whaddya expect for 1962? If you don't believe me then just watch the film, re-read its title and check back with your brain.

Before Sunset (2004)

Neo-realism vindicated.

[15 July 2004]

Wondrous and pensive is Richard Linklater's 'Before Sunset', but certainly a movie with its feet firmly on the ground. I felt elated and sad all at once while this film rolled before my eyes and I felt my brain working overtime trying to assimilate all the lucid dialogue that was bursting from the screen. This is one of those rare bits of cinema in which the simplistic directorial style that Linklater employed was entirely appropriate.

Several exquisitely composed establishing shots are made of Paris at the very beginning in order to prepare us for the traveling our main players will undertake. The story begins when Jesse (Ethan Hawke) is in a Paris bookstore answering questions in promotion of his novel that is based on the night portrayed in the previous cinematic installment of this story in 'Before Sunrise' (1995). An inquisitor is quite insistent on wanting to know whether or not the novel is based on an actual experience of the author's – he begrudgingly answers in the affirmative. Not soon after, he glances to the side the subject of his story, Celine – strangely looking both ravishing and child-like. Of course, after hastily excusing himself from the conference, he immediately meets up with her and they unplanningly set out on a mild excursion of the city – talking and emoting all the while.

And, basically, that's about it.

There are no special effects, no technical triumphs, no CGI (at least, none that I noticed). What we see and are enraptured by is the light, soulful and gliding talking and walking of these only two pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.

A certain tension is built up as we become more and more aware that Jesse is soon going to have to go to the airport to catch his flight. However, it is all released during the glorious last four minutes or so of the film. The two words spoken have never previously sounded as sublime.

His Girl Friday (1940)

A farce with a live, beating heart.

[30 June 2004]

Made as disposable entertainment in its time has later become a classic screwball comedy throughout succeeding generations. Howard Hawks' 'His Girl Friday' (1940) is a film that all comedies should aspire to, not plagiarize, in one way or another. For in it do we get a hyper-real, deliriously delicious blend of ludicrous situation, pitch-perfect acting and, most importantly, ingenious dialogue. What's also important is that we don't think for one second that there's the slightest measure of implausibility in this film. That's because these characters are essentially human – we get a peek at both their glorious and vulnerable moments.

Hildy Johnson is the girl Friday ace journalist for the newspaper run by the conceited, incorrigible corrupter of news items Walter Burns. She wants out. Bruce Baldwin, the clueless insurance salesman, is the chute out of the fast life that she'll ride. Early in the film Hildy approaches Walter in order to tell him that she's quitting the newspaper business in order to fulfill her natural role as a female by getting married to a buttoned-down, decent, and unambitious man and pushing out some pups with him. Well, this troubles Walter and he barely lets us, the audience, know this – all we see is a back going rigid and hear a voice silenced. Cary Grant as Walter Burns is uncannily good as a bloodless newspaper hound. He applaudingly defeats his romantic, man-of-every-woman's-dreams persona with this nasty, in-the-media-dirt being (we relievingly don't see him in a tux for a change!). The rest of the film depicts the underhanded travails and sadistic maneuverings of this conniving, yet affable beast of a human being.

Granted, we are needlessly subjected to cheap, dollar-book Freudianism but we don't care – our adrenaline more than compensates for it.

'His Girl Friday' repays repeated viewings for several reasons, but I'll only mention one: the film is overstuffed with jokes and lyrical, well-timed dialogue. I'd rather not give any for-instances because that'd be unfair – only the actors are deserving of delivering.