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Nico,

Scorsese's films lacking something indefinable? Let me clarify

Casino: lacks originality
Gangs of New York: lacks anything worthwhile besides Day Lewis
The Aviator: Lacks a theme

numbersix_99 wrote:

Nico,

Scorsese's films lacking something indefinable? Let me clarify

Casino: lacks originality
Gangs of New York: lacks anything worthwhile besides Day Lewis
The Aviator: Lacks a theme

Got To Agree and disagree there number_six. I hated The Aviator i thought it complete crap and had no theme no structure no nothing. Meanwhile i think Casino had orginatnality and was just a great film

[Laughing] Chien...

"You actually F%*#ing met Terrence Malick !!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????????
I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Well, what's the big deal, anyway????????!!!!!!!!!???????? All us Texans know one another!!!!!!!!!oh damn, I broke my exclamation point key... hmmmm... ||||||||///////++++++++::::::::&&&&&&&&~~~~~~~~

LOL...

"Putain de bordel de dieu de merde de salope de con d'enfoiré plein de cul !!!!!!! Excuse me for my french, I couldn't resist [grin]..." Er, that's okay, pal, the fish in my eye read that as: "Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me as plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee; groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes and hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!" Sounds fine to me... I rather enjoyed it, actually. NNNRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH???? (Again, I broke my exclamation point, or I would've used that, instead, there...)

It's really, really not that big a deal. He probably doesn't remember the interview, let alone me. I was sitting for the most part at another table, reading Too Much Coffee Man and, erm, drinking copious amounts of hot caffeinated beverage, pretending not to eavesdrop. Now, when I got to talk to Roger Staubach, now, THOSE were memorable days... oh, the Hell with it.

Yeah, I don't really appreciate Eyes Wide Shut, but it could just be my unfamiliarity breeding ignorance, or something like that. I've only seen it once, and if I remember correctly, I didn't think all that much of Barry Lyndon the first time I saw that one, either... And I have grown to truly love that film, in the fullness of time.

Yeah, sure, get some rest, Chien, it's getting on for evening for you, anyway... Or, well, it was when you wrote it... [Grin]

Number Six and transformers: See, there are things I friggin' love about each of those films, I just can't consider them "great." Casino, sure, on one level is a knockoff (no pun intended) of Goodfellas, but it's also an incredibly detailed, visceral glimpse into the history of Las Vegas, before it became Three Bars Great Adventure. It's like a Ken Burns documentary, but with poor English and shiny suits. The "mechanics" of casino gambling, and "the skim," and of the Mafia's relations with its Nevada hosts, are presented beautifully. The big problem is: I don't give a damn. There's really only one character that earns any measure of empathy, and that's Ace; Nicky's a sociopath (even if he does cook his kid flapjacks every morning before school), Ginger is a hard, conniving, cokehead whore... and no one else matters. It's hard to really care about what happens in a film, unless you can come to care about who it happens to. I have the same issue with Goodfellas -- Henry Hill is such a repulsive primary character, that I almost think the film might have been better off being told from Paul Cicero's (Paul Sorvino) point of view, or even Spider's. Karen's great to look at, but ultimately just as vain, predatory, and self-obsessed as her husband... Jimmy Conway's charming, sure, but, well, so was Ted Bundy. And Tommy...

Gangs of New York is another one. For all Amsterdam's suffering and misguided bravado, you never really get inside his head... He is, in his own way, as much a cypher as The Butcher, and in fact I came to care about Bill Poole (not least, because of Daniel Day-Lewis' Oscar-worthy portrayal of him), a noble if bloodthirsty crime lord, far, far more than Priest Vallon's reckless progeny. Again, no one else matters. As a member of the audience, I never cared enough about Amsterdam to move beyond a disinterested party; I never became invested in the outcome, either way, so -- like Casino, and even Goodfellas -- what I was watching became nothing so much as a lavish, extraordinarily well-appointed History Channel presentation, albeit by way of Showtime.

The Aviator is my favorite of the three, actually, but -- again -- it comes across as too cold, too impersonal, too lifeless, for me to really LOVE. The performances are all excellent -- DiCaprio, for me, was a revelation in this film, his first genuinely "grown-up" performance -- and, again, the production design, costuming, sets, cinematography, etc., are all what we've come to expect, or actually demand, from a Marty Scorcese pic. Cate Blanchett so totally captures the spirit and mannerisms of Kate Hepburn that I almost feel I'm behind-the-scenes of The African Queen at times. But, again, this film, that so intimately explores the terrain of Howard Hughes' life, offers no insight whatsoever into this brilliant, paranoid, groundbreaking, captive mind. We see him scrubbing his hands until they bleed, and clapping a stopper over his near-epileptic verbal emissions, and squinting with his flinty eyes at things that aren't there... But we never see the clockwork mechanism of barely restrained madness behind that tight, uncomfortable smile, that hard, fearful expression. So he recites Q-U-A-R-A-N-T-I-N-E, ad nauseum, when the imposition, the invasion even, of other human beings into his elaborately constructed, private world becomes too odious, too onerous, too frightening. WHY?!?!? WHO IS THIS MAN?!?!? (Whups, I shoulda told you... my exclamation points (!) are working again. Viagra really IS a wonder drug! !!!!!!)

However... I digress.

And yet... although I know I've managed to describe / diagnose PART of the problem, here, there's something I'm missing, something I've never been able to quite put into words, something inexplicably... lacking from Scorcese's craft, from his work. I could call it "closure," perhaps, or "completeness," or je ne sais quoi, or, Hell, I don't know what, but that would be a cop-out. It's the same sort of vague dissatisfaction I get from Oliver Stone sometimes, or Ron Howard, or Mel Gibson... They know all the tricks, all the camera angles, all the proper lighting arrangements... all the tools of editing, the quick cuts and the zoom-outs and the wide-angle perspectives. And maybe that's the problem. EVERYTHING'S TOO... PERFECT. Too choreographed, too clinical, too effortless, too specific, too, too, too much. And, you see, the worlds they're trying to create, the characters they're trying to present... aren't. There's no spontaneity, no recklessness, no chance, no life to any of it... What we see onscreen is too idealized, in stark contrast to the lives and episodes and decisions and repercussions their films are TRYING, unsuccessfully, to get us to accept as "reality." I'm not saying it can be solved with handheld cameras, or less-capable personnel, or fewer table readings... It's just that the whole, the end product, is simply too... OVERPRODUCED. Put it another way, Def Leppard was a fine rock band until they started thinking that EVERY SINGLE NOTE needed to be JUST RIGHT. The life went out of it, and they went from killer singles like "Bringin' on the Heartbreak, which you couldn't stop yourself (or, even, your tone-deaf girlfriend) from singing out loud, to total synthetic bollocks like "Let's Get Rocked." Sometimes, you just want to sing along, even if there are a few notes off here and there... matter of fact, not to get all philosophical or existential or whatever, but I'd argue that it is, in fact, the occasional quirks and pops and cracks, that MAKES you want to "sing along," in films as well as songs, and, by extension, life.

There's this really memorable, quietly moving scene in one of my favorite films, Master and Commander: The Dark Side of the World, where the awkward, underachieving career midshipman, Hollom, tries to participate in the other, lesser deckhands' revelry. They're laughing and singing and carrying on, mates, all, and Hollom, desperate to fit in and be liked, adds his sterling, perfect voice to one of their slightly bawdy songs. The moment his melodious issuances hit the clear night air, everyone else stops... Because, you see, his voice is far, far superior to theirs, and their comparative vocal poverty strikes them, literally, dumb. He carries on with it to the end of the verse, oblivious, not realizing that by giving voice to his own flawless talent, he's gone and shown them the errors in theirs. Hollom finishes, finally realizing his gross misjudgment, and, eventually, the lads strike up another tune. But the damage has been done. Bloody show-off, they're thinking, or something very like it. Bleedin' scrub. Take away our fun, will ya? Piss off.

Sometimes, if you want the audience to sing along, you have to be willing to be less than perfect. Millions of people turn out every weekend to recite the lyrics to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and imagine themselves Susan Sarandon or Tim Curry; far fewer, I think, ever confused themselves with Pavarotti, and joined in with the note-perfect tenor.

However... perhaps I digress.

I remain, as always...

Nico.

"Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me as plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee; groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes and hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles, or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"

Vogon poetry? Oh, my ears...

"Vogon poetry is of course, the third worst in the universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos was reported to have been "disappointed" by the poem's reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his 12-book epic entitled "My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles" when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save humanity, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator, Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge, in the destruction of the planet Earth. Vogon poetry is mild by comparison."

Now THAT'S comedy, the eccentricity of which will be marvelled over and repeated to quizzical looks at cocktail parties (the ones where the hostess's undergarments incredibly and spontaneously jump three feet to the left) for all time.

Ahhh, you must have gotten hold of an original edition of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Most later (and American English) versions replace Paul Neil Milne Johnstone's name -- Johnstone was a childhood friend of Adams's -- and address, with that of "Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings, of Wasp Villas, Greenbridge, Essex."

Your unprovoked undergarment-zapping brought back memories of Eccentrica Gallumbits, btw. "Share and Enjoy" is HER motto, too, especially after being plied with copious amounts of that Ol' Janx Spirit (the aggregate effect of which, btw, is comparable to that of having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round three large gold breasts).

However... oh, Hell, you know.

I remain, as always...

Nico.

"Ironman" teaser might give us something sorly lacking in the FF4 films.That being a lead actor with personality that Robert Downey Jr. can bring to the role.What's the over/under in running time before Stan Lee apears in this film?I've posted in the past I think his been in every Marvel based film so far,and does he have SAG card yet?
Late

Thank You Nico it's going to be blast checking your words of wisdom.

I've always loved "Master and Commander", but the way you describe that particular scene, Nico, makes me want to watch it all over again!

[Laughing] After writing that, la_resistance, I got somewhat nostalgic for it, too... but I decided to watch Ioan Gruffudd in the (I believe) sixth Horatio Hornblower teleplay, 2003's Loyalty, instead. (Dealing with a secret mission behind enemy lines and espionage, that episode has an affinity for Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin novels even greater, in some respects, than Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World had... especially, Loyalty evokes comparisons to the novels HMS Surprise, The Surgeon's Mate and The Ionian Mission.

[Sigh] I wish Russell Crowe wasn't so blasted opposed to the idea of a sequel... Peter Weir and John Collee ought to have won the Academy Award that year (2004) for Best Adapted Screenplay, and, yes, I'm aware that would have meant denying it for The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. No matter; The Fellowship of the Ring and, especially, The Two Towers were the more deserving entries in the trilogy anyway, as far as that category goes... But what Weir and Collee did with the Master and Commander screenplay was just exemplary.

I remain, as always...

Nico, Admiral of the Yellow

Bless you Michael Bay. Armageddon is a masterpiece.

Nico, I wish I had the time to go through every line of your tomes, but alas I can only cherry pick this:

Cate blanchett winning an Oscar for the Aviator is the single most ridiculous acting award the ceremony has ever given. Yes, I'm including Crowe for his Oh-So Beautiful Mind, and Judi Dench's 5 minutes in Shakespeare in Love. Her performance was nothing more than an incredibly irritating caricature. I found no emotion in her performance, simply a collection of Ms. Hepburn's on-screen ticks and mannerisms. I think Blanchett is one of the best actresses around (Notes on a Scandal, Veronica Guerin, Elizabeth etc), but her "impression" in The Aviator was utterly hollow. Quite like the overall film, which I felt was an attempt to document Hughes's life as opposed to making a film with any sort of theme/moral/point.

Peter Jackson doesn't even touch Georges talent. Lucas may be a arrogant bastard. But come on. Star Wars. People may hate it now but back in the day star wars was frickin mind blowing. Of course it came out about ten years before I was born but I have family and friends who talk about it. When was the last movie that came out in this generation that was just mind blowing. Cause sure is sh@# ain't no effing Lord of the Rings. They're weren't completely bad movies. They were fun to watch. Once. That Sh%^ was way way to boring to watch more than that. At least Star Wars kept the action involed with a kick ace storyline.
Excuse my rant.
That being said. Per earlier conversation. Gangs of new York was brilliant. I really didn't want to see it cause it had dicaprio. But his movies are really starting to grow on me. Romeo and Juliet I liked. The beach, eg. Titanic was pretty good if your in a sappy mood. But Gangs of New York threw all that sissy crap he did in the other movies away. I saw the aviator but it really wasn't my cup of tea.
so I leave you all with this. Fantastic Four kicks A$$. and it didn't have a lead because it had four. Five if you count the ever maniacal Doom.

http://www.contactmusic.com/news.nsf/article/crow%20under%20pressure%20to%20make%20master%20and%20commander%20sequel_1041563
I'm not sure how reliable that is, but I always assumed the lack of a sequel was due to Fox's reluctance to pony up for the cast again, as well as the considerable costs of shooting another period epic at sea. If Crowe was the one holding it back, maybe he's changing his mind now, thanks to his wife! I can only hope!

[Chuckling] I knew I'd piss in some peoples' Wheaties with my comments about George Lucas and Peter Jackson...

Hey, I'm a columnist. (Or, at least, I used to be.) Columnists are supposed to have opinions, test boundaries, provoke responses. No one wants to be the can't-miss Voice of the People. Worse, no one wants to READ that guy's stuff, since no matter how well it's written, it's just CW (Conventional Wisdom, not that broadcast netlet.)

However... I digress.

tuan wrote:

Now wait a minute here... Peter Jackson is not a one-hit wonder.

I still believe his first mainstream film Heavenly Creatures is his best-directed film of his career. I love that film, it's just so wonderful and magical in a brilliant way.

I still don't quite know what to make of Heavenly Creatures, and I've watched it a few times, now (between my fingers). Jackson made an exceptionally raw, brave, counter-culture film, with some of the most textured performances I've ever seen, and he absolutely deserves credit for discovering Kate Winslet. But I can't make myself enjoy the film. It certainly shows off Jackson's mastery at his craft... I just find it... disturbing. (I feel much the same way about Thirteen, as well as the DeNiro version of Cape Fear.)

He then went on to do The Frighteners which is another overlooked film that is... once again incredibly well-directed. Watch it paying attention to the camera angles and placements...

[Nodding] Frighteners was the film that brought Peter Jackson to my attention, no doubt about it. It's a film that aims way, way above its station, and hints at the burgeoning promise of its director in much the same way that THX-1138 did for George Lucas, or Duel did for Steven Spielberg, or Real Life did for Albert Brooks. It's a technical wonder, even today, but especially for the year it was released and the budget it commanded.

...[Y]ou will see that Jackson is not a 'one-hit wonder'.

Ye-eeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh... I get what you're saying, tuan, I do, and it's possible I misspoke. I probably should have phrased it, "I worry that Peter Jackson's going to find that the pinnacle of his skill as a filmmaker came too early, far closer to the beginning of his career than its end, and that a genuinely original and groundbreaking talent will become all too static and predictable, pigeonholing himself by virtue of ever-escalating, increasingly ridiculous special effects over-reliance and a too-vocal, too-numerous crowd of fanatical admirers who will nod their heads, dutifully, and go gaga over whatever crap he flings at the screen, like his own giant ape, come to life." But, I didn't.

And how could I forget... THE TRILOGY.

...Which WAS, in a word, fantastic, and is in fact my favorite film of all time (for I, like Jackson, consider it a single title, in three parts). My point is, I'm concerned that it'll be his Star Wars: Episode IV -- A New Hope, an over-early zenith from which his career may never quite recover. (Making the over-hyped, disappointing King Kong, what? His Howard the Duck? Or his Holiday Special?)

King Kong was just beautiful, especially that last 20 minutes with Kong and his plane-bashing. I never thought I could cry for a giant ape dying, but Sir Peter Jackson pulled it off.

Well, now, now that I've been reminded that he's SIR Peter Jackson... [Laughing] Sheesh, make a guy a Knight Commander, and all of a sudden, he's infallible...

Look, I understand what some people love about King Kong, really I do. Visually it was a masterpiece. It topped all the Jurassic Park films, combined, in terms of its action sequences. It certainly flirted with greatness (a theme I seem to be returning to, a lot, lately). But, for me, it just wasn't... that... terrific. The acting -- I should have put quotes around that -- was flat, at best; it was badly, terribly, unforgivably cast; and, worst of all, it tried to be too, too many things. Sir Jackson, KBE, Esq., comitted the cardinal sin of all filmmakers, from Ed Wood to Roger Corman to Joel Schumacher: His reach exceeded his grasp. He was juggling so many daunting, diverse, disparate balls -- no snickering, there, or I'll send you to the office -- from romance, to adventure epic, to hero quest, to action spectacular, to new-age pseudo-bestiality love-in, that, ultimately, he failed to deliver on ANY of it. SIR Peter Jackson, with King Kong, reminded me of an overeager, wet-behind-the-ears bartender who's working alone for the first time: He gets overexcited and drunk, if you will, with his newfound freedom and influence, believing himself capable of not only mixing age-old concoctions according to centuries-old formulas, but of inventing, all by hisself, "the perfect drink." He goes, in a word, well, apesh!t, tossing in creme de menthe and bourbon and tequila and reduced blackberry extract and umbrellas and crap, and all he makes, ultimately, is a mess. A spectacular mess, no question, but no one's going to swallow that sh!t, not at nine bucks a shot. And that's what I think King Kong was: An overimagined, overambitious, overproduced, Hell, just plain over-the-top MESS. To me, King Kong has far more in common with Moulin Rouge than The Lord of the Rings, or A New Hope, or, heck, even the original. No wonder I didn't go back for seconds.

But, hey, it's just my opinion. I'll still fly halfway around the world to see The Hobbit (should Sir Peter be coerced back to the Warner Bros. fold, against all logic I admit) ahead of everybody else, like I did The Two Towers.

Go cry in the corner Georgie Porgie.

Oh, whatever, dude.

P.S. You wish, Mighty Joe Young.

Now, THERE, I'm with ya.

Very briefly, now...

Six, I definitely have some notion of what you mean, regarding Cate Blanchett in The Aviator... I'll think about that. My initial reaction is to disagree, but what you say is worth consideration (and another look). On a related note, I thought Kate Beckinsdale was stellar in that film.

I was, and still am, stunned to my core by Russell Crowe's performance in ABM... But, then, just about all his roles have left me speechless (but, in particular, L.A. Confidential, Cinderella Man and The Insider, his career-best in my opinion.) And Paul Giamatti really should have won Best Supporting Actor for his flawless turn in Cinderella Man; however, I digress.

As for Dame Judi Dench... Notes on a Scandal should have been her Oscar-winning role. (Gee, Cate was in that one, too...)

cRAzY, I respectfully disagree. Lucas is a hell of a techie, but not much of a director. Put another way, Lucas may be Archimedes, but Jackson, potentially, is Da Vinci... IF he doesn't burn too bright, too fast, too bad.

(James Cameron, for those of you keeping score at home, I put somewhere between 'em... Isaac Newton, perhaps.)

Of course it came out about ten years before I was born...

[Groan] I stood in line for ten hours to see it the weekend after it came out. I was five. Damn.

dicaprio['s]...movies are really starting to grow on me.

I'm with ya. But, then, I've had my eye on him (two of them, actually) since The Basketball Diaries. Not a fan of R+J, tho.

As for FF... Dude, you've left me speechless. (For once.)

Vive: Paul Bettany and Peter Weir are on-record, somewhere, as saying that Fox wanted a sequel (or two), but Crowe didn't want to go back to the same well twice. (Which, I have to say, I respect.) But I've heard some rumblings lately that he might consider changing his mind, for the perfect script. It just so happens I know a guy who's working on one, who has a phenomenal feel for the material. (No, it ain't me.) Stay tuned.

Whew! My kid's birthday party is tomorrow, I'm out for a couple days. Have a great weekend, everyone; until next time, the balcony is closed. I remain, as always...

Nico.

ETA: Hey, the Subject changed! Hey, someone's paying attention... Oh, happy day.

Nico:

I agree with just about everything you've said about Peter Jackson. I applauded the vision with which he threw himself into King Kong, a remake that... really, really, didn't need to be made, but still...

And about the casting? I gotta split the difference with you. I thought Naomi Watts as Ann Darrow was an excellent choice. The second best choice was Bruce Campbell to play the movie-within-the-movie hero. (He does have the look of an old silent hero, and it's not even the first time he's played one... The Majestic. Plus, the guy's funny as hell, and if you haven't watched USA's kick-ass-cool new series Burn Notice, well, you've missed the bitchin'-est show of the summer.

But when one thinks of "reluctant but brave action hero", Adrien Brody is probably the 3,693rd name that I could come up with. I mean, his wide stare and ghostly pallor give me the heebie-jeebies, no matter what role he's playing. Every time he enters a room, I feel like I can hear him saying in my head "You Rannnnnnng?" But I digress.

(Aside: Boy, we digress a lot, don't we? We should start an official Regression of Department. Wink.)

And Jack Black? I love the guy, and I think he's more than capable of holding his own in a more serious role (or any role that's not a slacker, a stoner, a wannabe wrestler or a wannabe rock guitarist). His performance in Shallow Hal showed me a glimmer of what I think he can do, and the upcoming Be Kind Rewind has the makings of a cult classic. But he was completely wrong for this role. Now, Steve Buscemi? Would have kicked ass!

The action sequences were top-notch, and I expect nothing less from PJ. The Kong vs. T-Rexes was heart-stopping, and the aforementioned plane-bashing scene was both spectactular, poignant and cathartic.

But in the end, I could only give this film a grudging 8/10. A good effort, and I enjoyed it (even though it was probably a good 20 minutes too long), but I didn't rush to see it again, and seeing it again on DVD a few months later pretty much quelled any desire I had to see it a third time for several years.

Can't WAIT for The Hobbit. Anyone remember this song?

"The greatest adventure is what lies ahead. Today and tomorrow are yet to be said. The chances, the changes are all yours to make. The mold of your life is in your hands to break. The greatest adventure is there if you're bold. Let go of the moment that life makes you hold. To measure the meaning can make you delay; It's time you stop thinkin' and wasting the day. The man who's a dreamer and never takes leave, Who thinks of a world that is just make-believe, Will never know passion, will never know pain. Who sits by the window will one day see rain..."

Maybe the only good thing to come out of that wretched cartoon version.

Anyway, gotta go, big day tomorrow.

I remain, as always,

Thorin Oakenshield

P.S. Nico, you know how many "D" there are in Kate's last name? The same number of toes you have on your left hand. Want proof?

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000295/

(Ooh, that's gotta hoit.)

Holy crap! It's like "War and Peace" in here.

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