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| Tuesday, May 10, 2005 |
Oh, Lucas... save the best for last, you did
I do love being pleasantly surprised. My expectations were low, I admit. George Lucas has given so much to the cinematic world, but he has also given us Jar Jar. He has brought us the blockbuster, but he has also brought us the dark side of that summer phenomenon in two heaping wrecks of pixelated ruination (that would be Episodes 1 and 2).
He is a man with a vision, but he can't direct actors to save his poor, bearded soul. He is fascinated by visual storytelling. He is inept at the more pedestrian methods like, say... dialogue. I loved what Lucas wrought, and I hated what Lucas wrought. More than anything, I missed what Lucas accomplished way back in 1977. I wasn't even born yet, but then neither were so many who grew up to adore that mythos of a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
I am told of a time when moviemaking was drab. I am told of a time when cinema was dull. I am told of a time when studios ruled, actors slaved, and directors had no control after their reels made it back to the lots. It was a time, I hear, when Nixon had resigned and Carter was stripping the White House of its pomp and its circumstance. Elvis Presley had died. Pele had played his last game. Americans were down, and we wanted to believe again. We wanted to be captivated by something magical, let our cynicism reside just outside the theater doors where the harsh lights of the real world lay.
In the darkened confines of a cinema, amidst others who so longed for that sense of wonder, a flicker of light peeked from the back of the room and trumpets blared. That black room became a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Perhaps the art was lessened that day. I doubt it. Lucas would go on to innovate so much that the power of filmmaking would finally be brought to the masses, but that's not what he did that day.
On that day, Lucas made the magic of moviemaking into a statement of truth, an evidence of fact painted onto the silver screen for all the world to marvel at. This was not pedestrian. This was film at the level of Olympus. Sadly, that day seems a long time ago, even a galaxy away -- far, far away.
This is because, some three decades later, we have come to a similar cross-road in the American zeitgeist. September 11 is a date we'll never forget. War rages in Iraq, terrorism plagues the world. In a time of progress at hyperspeed, when none of us seems capable of holding on to the world as it passes us by, it is time again for the quasi-Luddite who crafted a galaxy with nothing more than a No. 2 pencil.
So it is, with Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, that Lucas returns to us and gives us what we've so longed for. Like his creation Darth Vader, the man who seemed to have lost his touch has finally taken up the light again, slain the emperor of bad filmmaking, and rescued his offspring from oblivion. And Jar Jar doesn't even say a word.
Or something like that.
I don't want to spill too much grandeur in describing this film, but it's hard not to get worked up after being so let down by the first two prequels. We've maligned the man. We've maligned his work. We've begged him to, for the love of God or whatever Force you believe in, stop tinkering with his damned movies. But perhaps we'd be content if he'd just give us a good Star Wars film once more.
That's exactly what he's done. Don't misread my words. There's still the stilted lines of dialogue. Padme's pregnant cardboard cutout is particularly unsettling when wrapped around the tremendous acting talents of Natalie Portman (utterly wasted in these prequels). But where they are in Episode III, they are not the Death Star taking the entire film down with them. They are mere quibbles, reminders that this is still George Lucas, and he still can't direct actors or write brilliant dialogue.
But man can he make a movie, and in the end he can tell a story too. Episode III has the luxury of plenty of backstory and plenty of anticipation for what is inevitably to come, so it takes no time in dropping us directly into the action. The first 15 minutes or so is literally an extended action sequence, and it delivers. As Obi-Wan and his apprentice Anakin whirl through a fleet of enemy vessels and fighters, plenty of them exploding in close proximity, en route to save Chancellor Palpatine.
By the time the heroic Jedi land on Coruscant, and Anakin gets his tender moment with now-pregnant wife Padme, you don't even mind how poorly executed these tender moments are. It's a Lucas weakness the rest of the film more than makes up for. In short order, we're back to the epic drama of a concluding war, and with epic Lucasfilm drama comes epic Lucasfilm action.
Perhaps that would be enough to crown this a good film, perhaps the best action film out this year. What really wins the film over, making it easily the best since Empire Strikes Back, is how effectively it shows the totality of events. Nothing is more moving (including the forced chemistry between Padme and Anakin) than the depiction of Palpatine's rise to Emperor and the fall of the Jedi Order. When Anakin and Obi-Wan finally face off, McGregor shows off his acting chops and makes you believe he's in more pain than we could imagine. (As betrayal goes, Hayden Christensen sure wasn't going to make it truly believable.)
It's a testimony to Lucas's third prequel that it makes us feel the deaths and the betrayals of these characters. For two whole films he introduced them and made us care so little, that to save them from that fate and get an entire audience of critics to (I kid you not) cheer multiple times is a feat worth lauding.
And so it goes. Against all expectations and all previous attempts, Lucas has given us our magic back. He's made the Star Wars film we remember as children and missed as adults. Perhaps it won't wake us from our cultural stupor. Perhaps it won't give us a little more hope in a less hopeful world.
But as cinema goes, especially as blockbuster action epics that so often get made with little more than a hollow gloss, this let's us all say with more than a little bittersweet joy: Maybe they do make movies like they used to.
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Next week, a discussion of the commonalities between the Star Wars mythos and Jewish folklore, as well as the political undercurrents of the films.
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| Tuesday, May 03, 2005 |
A movie of two minds?
Let it be said, the best thing written about "Kingdom of Heaven" is courtesy of Richard Corliss: "A movie of two minds is infinitely preferable to a movie with none."
Why is this the best that has been written on this epic of a film? Simply put, Ridley Scott's latest foray into the historical war flick has its flaws. In fact, it has more than its fair share of them.
Aside from the thin characters who shuffle onto the screen (and off again) with little in the way of believable motivation, there is the rushed unfolding of events that makes everything seem like you missed something on the cutting room floor. Aside from that, there is the ridiculous plot contrivances (thousands of years of settlement, lots of dustry environs, and a blacksmith crusader is the first one to think of digging a well), and aside from that there is the cumulative effect of all these flaws.
Because the film is so grand in scope, yet so rushed in its editting, we hardly have the time to get into the minds of the characters. That compounds the short attention given to their internal drives and motivations. The result? Cardboard cutouts all around, and where there is a third dimension we hardly have time to ponder it, and thus it ends up like a ghost we only thought we saw.
But of all the flaws, the greatest weakness of Scott's latesty foray into celluloid is his attempt to make the film overtly relevant to modern crises. I'm simply unable to comprehend a cast of characters fighting a holy war in the darkest decades of the Middle Ages spouting off about living in harmony with one another. And if Bloom's lead is really interested in saving the people of Jerusalem regardless of whether he keeps the city, why not simply surrender it to begin with? Oh yeah, then you wouldn't have a movie.
More than the out-of-place modern liberalism that dots so many of these ancient characters is Scott's attempt to portray the Muslims as noble and the bad, bad Christian warmongers as, well... bad, bad warmongers. I happen to share his politics, but I couldn't stay engaged with the film as I constantly recoiled at its grotesque simplifications and politically-correct hewing.
Nevertheless, I forgive "Kingdom of Heaven" its sins. Yes, it glosses over its sins. Yes, it tries to make us see the madness of dogmatic holy war -- listening Israeli-Palestinian aggitators, listening neo-con warmongers -- in the most ham-handed of ways. But it's just so damn pretty, and at least it's trying to be more than "XXX: State of the Union."
In other words, "A movie of two minds is infinitely preferable to a movie with none." This is a Ridley Scott film, after all. So expect absolutely beautiful imagery and stunning mastery of cinematic style. Expect an exquisite cast of actors who literally grace the screen. Expect a cinematic spectacle that's more than mere special effects magic. In short, expect a good film.
Just do not expect a great film. Do not expect "Gladiator," for this is not that film gem that jump started a host of pretenders. And no, I won't be the critic who calls this Ridley Scott's descent into that cast of pretenders, because this is a fine film. It's a film I recommend you go see.
Why? Because with its two minds, with its attempts (however ham-handed) to make you think as well as dazzle you, the audience will be made better. We will be wowed by the visuals, by the story (however improbable). And if we're paying any attention at all, we'll at least think about the political overtures of the film.
A classic it ain't. A Ridley Scott film it is, and that's enough -- more than enough.
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