Film Friday: The Final Cut (2004)

We all know the evils inherent in letting an all-seeing, all-powerful Big Brother spy on every moment of our lives. But could we achieve similar evils without government involvement? Do we have more to fear from each other, than we do from mystery cabals? That’s the question that underlies The Final Cut, a fascinating film starting Robin Williams and James Caviezel. George Orwell meet the camera phone.

** spoiler alert **

The Plot

The Final Cut, written and directed by Omar Naim, is a complex movie that takes place in the near future, at a time when many people have recording devices implanted in their brains when they are born. These devices, called Zoe Implants, record everything that happens during the person’s life. When the person dies, the implant can be removed and the footage taken a “cutter.” A cutter uses a device called a Guillotine, to edit the film down to a few minute tribute, called a rememory.

As the story opens, we learn that Alan Hakman (Robin Williams),a skillful cutter whose services are highly prized by rich, immoral patrons because of his willingness to overlook their indiscretions when he cuts the rememories, is haunted by a memory from his past. When he was a child, he watched a friend fall to his death after Williams apparently goaded him into doing something unsafe. Terrified, Williams ran from the abandoned warehouse, never to return. These memories become a recurring theme, as we slowly learn the truth throughout the movie.

Returning to the present, we see Williams’ work on display. He has cut a rememory and receives much praise from the friends and family gathered. But the deceased was not a nice man. As Williams wanders around the reception meeting people, we, the audience, are shown images that Williams removed that relate to the people he meets, such as the woman with whom the deceased had an affair. This gives us our first clue that Williams’ character is not as pure as one might suspect.

As Williams leaves the reception, he encounters a group of protestors. These people protest the very concept of allowing such devices to be implanted. They argue the mere fact that such devices could be inside anyone means we have lost our freedom to be ourselves, as we must always be cautious of being recorded. They further argue that rememories rob people of their memories because the video images can alter long held beliefs which formed our very personalities -- a common theme in sci-fi, the idea that we are the sum of our experiences.

Another charge is made against Williams specifically, by the lead protestor, James Caviezel, who claims Williams is complicit in covering up the evil deeds of rich clients.

Williams soon is called upon to cut another rememory. This rememory will be for an executive (Bannister) of the company that produces the Zoe devices. No sooner does Williams get this contract, than Caviezel tries to buy the Bannister footage from Williams. Caviezel knows the executive was corrupt in some manner (though he does not know precisely how), and he hopes to use the footage to discredit the company and have the Zoe devices banned. Williams refuses and begins to cut the footage.

It is around this time we learn, though we are never told directly, that the executive molested his own daughter. Williams seems appalled but he doesn't stop because he believe everyone deserves a good rememory, no matter what they’ve done. As he cuts, he spots a man in one of the frames at a party attended by the executive. Williams believes this man to be the childhood friend he left for dead in the warehouse years ago. As Williams attempts to find this man, Caviezel plots to obtain the Bannister footage, leading to a series of confrontations with quite a few surprises.

The Review

Before we discuss this film, let me warn you that while this film should fascinate you, and it definitely will keep you thinking for days after you’ve seen it, you will not enjoy it. It’s not to meant to be enjoyed. Like 1984, this film is meant to disquiet you. Let me also warn you there is a trick to watching this film. If you accept the normal Hollywood standards of good and evil, and you try to see Williams as the good guy because that’s what you’ve been taught, you will misunderstand this film. It is only when you let Hollywood’s lessons go and you see Williams as the villain he really is that this movie achieves its full potential.

Why You Might Think Williams Is The Good Guy?

There are three bad reasons you will want to think of Robin Williams as a good guy in this film (aside from any good will you may already have for him). The first, is that Hollywood teaches us that when a person has a trauma in their past, their present is haunted by that trauma and their actions are excused. We are taught, that if only they could resolve that trauma, “the real person” -- a miraculously wonderful human, will spring forth. Williams has such a trauma from his youth. It haunts him. Indeed, much of the film is about him trying to resolve this issue. Thus, according to Hollywood formula, Williams stands ready to be born-again as an new and perfect man.

Secondly, Hollywood tells us that where there is a bad guy, there must be a good guy -- false logic which Roman Polanski manipulates so beautifully in The Ninth Gate. And the villain here is clearly James Caviezel. We know this because he’s a zealot and all zealots are evil. He is obsessed with this one issue; it consumes him. His group even protests at funerals. What more proof do you need? How about an admission that he killed someone to help his cause and a plot that involves him killing again. And since he’s clearly evil and he focuses his anger on Williams, Hollywood teaches us, Williams must be good.

And if that is not enough, the movie itself misleads a bit, by advancing two strawmen arguments against Williams and then beating them up. Do you remember the charge that Williams distorts history by cutting out all of the evil deeds of his clients? The movie points out that this is really no different than what is done in eulogies today. And that’s true. We don’t use funerals to present “fair” pictures of the dead. We don’t dig up and expose all their secrets. So what makes Williams evil for doing to the Zoe footage what we ourselves do with our speeches, our photographs and our video cameras? And what about the argument that it’s wrong for Williams to knowing the secrets of people who have not shared them with him (e.g. the woman who had the affair with the deceased man)? Is that not an unheard of invasion of privacy? Actually, no, it’s not. Lawyers, doctors and priests know these things today. Indeed, when you share a secret with someone, you have no guarantee that they won’t share it with others.

Thus, we see the allegations of evil made against Williams as false, i.e. he is wrongly accused. Ergo, Hollywood law declares him innocent and, therefore, good. But this too is false logic, especially as neither allegation is what make Williams evil. He is evil because he abuses his power.

Why Does It Matter How You See Williams?

But why is it so important to recognize that Williams is a villain? Because the story barely works if you keep trying to shoehorn this odious man into the cookie cutter form of a good guy. If you don't understand that Williams is a villain, you will be unable to grasp the purpose and meaning of the film.

Indeed, many critics just saw this film as a thriller about a man, pursued by others, who hope to obtain video he possesses which might bring down an evil company. And they found this movie to be unfulfilling. Indeed, they complain bitterly about their disappointment in the film. They wonder why the conspiracy isn’t a bigger part of the movie, why the subplot about the molested girl doesn’t turn into chase scenes with men in black suits hunting down Williams and the girl as they head to the sole good agent in the government who can bust the case open and save the day. They wonder why Caviezel doesn’t suddenly reveal that he works for some mystery cabal intent on taking over the world. And they complain that Mira Sorvino is miscast as William’s love interest because she doesn't seem like the kind of woman (too hot, too young, too different) who would be interested this sad little man. . . even if he is the hero.

But if you realize that Williams is a villain, then the movie becomes inspired. Williams portrays a man who thinks he is a decent man, who seems meek and kind on the surface, but who abuses his power without a second thought. For example, in a scene dismissed as an "awkward" romantic moment by the critics, Williams treats Sorvino to a video he has created of recorded dreams -- a sort of greatest hits from people he’s cut. But is this really romantic? If a photo developer kept your best family prints and shared them with his dates, is that romantic or creepy? Is it not an abuse of trust to do this?

And speaking of abuse of trust, here's why Sorvino doesn’t fit with Williams: the only reason she dates him is that he manipulates her. Her former soul mate, a man she loved deeply, died. . . and Williams cut his rememory. In a scene that is truly enlightening of Williams’ character, Sorvino discovers that Williams used the Zoe footage from her dead boyfriend to learn about her deepest feelings and desires, and used that knowledge to present himself as her perfect man. Suddenly, we see abuse of power in a truly vile, invasive form. And while the critics complain that there is no attempt reconciliation (thus making Sorvino irrelevant), smarter viewer understand how truly devastating this revelation was to Sorvino, what an utter betrayal this was, and what it says about Williams that he would do this. They also understand how damning it is that he simply moves on without her.

But there is something much worse. Consider again the comparison to the eulogy. The movie makes the point that a rememory is nothing more than a eulogy, and there is some logic in this. But Williams goes beyond merely turning a blind eye about the dead. When he meets the molested daughter of the executive, the little girl reaches out to him for help. Yet, he initially turns a blind eye to this supposedly on principle.

But after he discovers the footage of his supposedly-dead childhood friend in the Bannister footage, he becomes obsessed with finding out more about this man. When Bannister’s wife refuses to help and orders him to ignore everything except for the few parts of Bannister’s life that are needed to make the rememory, Williams ignores her demand and invades the family’s privacy to satisfy his own curiosity. But even worse, he now exploits the little girl’s plea for help to give himself a chance to use the girl to get information about the man. Thus, he slowly builds up her trust just so he can get the information he needs. And when he has what he needs, and the mother orders him to leave and to never mention again what he has learned about the family (after the Bannister footage is accidentally destroyed), he does so without a second thought -- entirely abandoning the little girl.

To punctuate this point, we see the girl’s reaction as she knows she has been abandoned by Williams to the uncaring (and likely complicit) mother. Interestingly, we also see, momentarily, footage from the Zoe device implanted in this girl. The implications of this are very disturbing, though they are not openly touched upon. Consider that we cannot see this footage until she has died. It is possible this glimpse is just for our benefit, as a sort of -- “someone will know one day” type moment. But at the end of the film, there is a strong implication that everything we’ve seen in the movie was being witnessed by a cutter, whose identity you will learn near the end of the film. Knowing that Bannister’s footage was lost to them, could our seeing this footage mean that the little girl was murdered so the zealots could obtain this footage? There is no direct evidence to support this, but there is a suggestion to that effect at the end of the film. I can say no more, but this is something to consider when the film ends.

In any event, this level or evil and selfishness by Williams is truly staggering, and should inform our view of Williams’ performance (which is much stronger than the disappointing One Hour Photo (2002)) -- unless you insist on trying to make Williams into the hero.

So What Does This Film Tell Us?

Ultimately, this film tells us that it doesn’t take government to create the kind of dangers we were warned about by civil libertarians. It tells us that we must tread cautiously with new technology that gives people significant power over the lives of others. It tells us that we must develop a code of ethics for all to follow, and that some inventions, even those that don’t seem significant, are perhaps, a genie we should not be let loose from the bottle.

Finally, Compare Williams To Depp

Finally, as an interesting aside, compare the portrayal of Dean Corso by Johnny Depp with the portrayal in The Ninth Gate of Alan Hakman by Robin Williams. In many ways, at their cores, the characters are identical. They are both nihilistic, self-centered, remorseless, shameless, evil beings, and both are mistaken by the audience for good guys. Yet, the two characters are played very different -- and yet both are believable. Depp plays Corso as confident to a fault. He is disorganized and ruffled, but he takes what he wants without hesitation. He is aggressive. But Williams plays Hakman as passive-aggressive. He must trick others out of what he wants. He is cowardly, fastidious and sniveling.

One wonders, how these movies would have changed if the characters had changed places? I doubt the devil would have been interested in Hakman, and I can’t see Corso caring about having killed a childhood friend. Thus, while they are identical at their cores, they are entirely different people who can’t be exchanged for one another -- unlike any two villains from your typical mainstream Hollywood film. It is an interesting comparison that shows once again, that evil can come in many forms. . . unless you’re in a mainstream Hollywood film.

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Film Friday: Capricorn One (1978)

Some movies are cultural markers. They highlight the beginning, or end, of an era. Capricorn One, directed by Peter Hyams (Outland, 2010), is such a movie. Capricorn One marks the moment American culture recognized that average Americans had not only lost their faith in their government, but actively began to believe their government capable of great evil. Capricorn One marks the beginning of the Conspiracy Era.

** spoiler alert **

The Plot

Capricorn One opens as NASA prepares to launch the first manned mission to Mars. Astronauts Charles Brubaker (James Brolin), Peter Willis (Sam Waterston), and John Walker (O.J. Simpson) board the rocket. The Vice President sits in the reviewing stand awaiting the launch. The President did not come because many have begun to question whether the country can afford to continue exploring space in bad economic times. As the countdown slowly winds down, the capsule door suddenly opens. The astronauts are told to leave the capsule and are whisked away to a waiting plane. The rocket takes off without them.

There was a mistake, Dr. Kelloway (the always-fantastic Hal Holbrook) explains to the confused astronauts. A simple mistake. A contractor messed up, and if the astronauts had remained on the rocket, they would be dead by now. Unfortunately, Holbrook continues, the mistake was discovered too late to be corrected in time without scrubbing the mission. Scrubbing the mission would have meant the end of the program. . . and an end to manned exploration in space. So an alternative plan was formed. They would fake the Mars landing on a studio set. And when the rocket returned to Earth, Brubaker, Willis and Walker would be secretly flown to the splash down site, where they would await rescue, before returning home as badly-needed heroes.

Left with no choice, the astronauts reluctantly agree to participate in the deception. But on its return, the capsule loses its heat shield and burns up in the atmosphere. The astronauts are dead. And when Brubaker, Willis and Walker figure out what happened, they realize NASA can’t afford to let them be seen again. The chase is on.

The First Modern Conspiracy Movie

Released a few years after Watergate, Capricorn One marks the moment the American public first began to believe that their own government was capable of great evil. It marks the beginning of the modern conspiracy theory. Prior to Capricorn One, conspiracies were confined to criminal endeavors or foreign agents. Rarely did the government set out to deceive the population. And when it did, as in Close Encounters, it was done by honest government officials who were looking out for the best interests of the public. The idea of manipulating the American public for personal gain or to protect an agency from embarrassment was simply unheard of. . . and the government never killed its own people (except spies).

Compare this to the modern version of conspiracies, as seen in virtually any movie today. Typically, the most important officials in the government have entered into a secret deal to engage in some nefarious activities that will cause significant harm to the American people. Their motives are sinister, and their methods are murderous and sadistic. Modern conspirators waste no time sending out armies of black-clad, cold-blooded killers to eliminate anyone who even tangentially stumbles upon the conspiracy.

Capricorn One is the movie that marked this change in our culture. It is the film that first told us the American government itself could be a sinister, evil force -- not just a single bad actor in the government. And interestingly, intentionally or not, Peter Hyams lets us watch this transition within Holbrook’s character as the movie unfolds.

Indeed, when we first learn of the conspiracy, Holbrook acts like every other “conspirator” you could find in a 1950’s movie. He is the noble civil servant, pressed into a difficult corner, looking to do the right thing for the American people. He believes he is acting for the good of the public. He wants to protect the efforts of the thousands of people who toiled to make this program work and to save science from the budget axe of a short-sighted Congress. He wants to give America back its heroes and he wants to avoid causing another devastating blow to America’s self-confidence -- an issue on many minds during American’s national post-Watergate malaise. As he explains what happened to the astronauts, he is clearly heartsick. There are times you think he may cry, and you share his pain. Equally importantly, he doesn't threaten the astronauts. He reasons with them and pleads for their support. He does not want to hurt anyone.

But then things begin to go wrong. A NASA employee notices the telemetry readings cannot be correct. He brings this to Holbrook’s attention. But unlike modern conspirators, Holbrook doesn't have him killed. He gives the employee a chance. He tells the employee the machine is broken and instructs him to disregard the data. But the employee persists, and soon he attempts to share this information with a reporter friend -- Robert Caulfield (Elliot Gould). It is only then that the employee vanishes and a cover up put into place to hinder Gould’s investigation.

The treatment of Gould too is telling. Had this been a modern conspiracy movie, Holbrook would have ordered Gould eliminated. But that doesn’t happen here -- no black van appears to take Gould away in the night. At first, Gould is merely misled. They try to throw him off the track. But he persists. So they sabotage the brakes on his car. Could this kill him? Yes, but more likely it was only a message, as they easily could have killed him if they wanted to. When he doesn’t get this message, they frame him for drug possession, which gets him fired. With this “threat” neutralized, they ignore him. . . they don’t hunt him down.

But soon a much more modern conspirator emerges in Holbrook. When the capsule burns up on reentry and the astronauts escape the studio facility, Holbrook stops being the innocent conspirator of the 1950s and transitions into a role that would become Hollywood cliché: Holbrook sits behind a desk in a far away office, issuing terse orders over a phone to capture (and possibly kill) the three astronauts. He literally sends black helicopters to hunt them down.

Holbrook has lost his innocence, and so has the culture. Gone is the idea the government can be trusted and will never hurt us. In its place, people now believe in black helicopters and hit squads. And this reflects in the increasingly nasty tone most conspiracy theories have taken in our culture. The government doesn’t just hide the truth about aliens anymore, it blows up buildings to “hide the truth.” It doesn’t just act in our best interests anymore, it now manipulates us so it can carry out its own sinister agenda.

Capricorn One marked the moment this transition began. (Interesting, many credit Capricorn One with popularizing the moon landing conspiracy -- a ridiculous bit of paranoia, bad science and false logic that 6% of Americans, 28% of Russians and 25% of Britons believe.)

Death of Professional Journalism

Capricorn One also marks the dying gasp of old school, professional journalism, an issue highlighted this week by the passing of Walter Cronkite. Indeed, Capricorn One not only shows us what journalism was, it hints at what journalism was about to become.

Consider the character of Robert Caulfield (Elliot Gould). Gould is not a modern attack journalist. Notice, for example, how gently he treats Kay Brubaker (Brenda Vaccaro) when he believes her husband has given her clues about what is going on. He doesn't run over and shove a microphone in her face, he asks for an interview. He is respectful. He even asks for permission to delve into more “personal” questions. And unlike modern reporters who love to hear themselves speak, he listens, he does not talk. Nor does he speculate. Nor is he a tabloid journalist, not by our standards. Gould suspects that something is amiss with the Mars landing because his friend told him about the telemetry and because his friend disappeared. But while this would be more than enough evidence for modern journalists to this story, Gould doesn't write the story because he simply doesn't believe he has enough verifiable facts. Thus, he represents old-school journalism.

Yet, his editor, played by David Doyle (Bosley of Charlie’s Angles), sees him as a tabloid journalist. He repeatedly assaults Gould for proposing wild theories, for failing to gather facts, and for failing to cover “hard news” like train derailments. He laments what Gould means for the future of the profession. And in making these complaints, he foreshadows the exact road journalism would take, and it would do so largely because of the new trade in rumor, paranoia, and conspiracy. Thus, as with the shift in thinking about conspiracy theories, Capricorn One gives us a look at how journalism once was, and shows us where it would head in the Conspiracy Era. And that’s the way it was.

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Film Friday: Breaker Morant (1980)

You should all see Breaker Morant. Directed by Bruce Beresford (Driving Ms. Daisy), Breaker Morant is a gripping courtroom drama that centers on the real-life murder trials of three Australian soldiers during the Boer War. Not only is this an outstanding drama, but it raises complex moral issues that remain relevant today. Indeed, if you replaced British Lord Kitchener with Pennsylvania Democrat Frank Murtha, you would be half way to making a movie about Iraq.

** spoiler alert **

The Boer War

Before discussing the film, let’s start with a brief (relevant) history of the (Second) Boer War (1899-1902). Tensions between the British Empire and independent Boer republics in Southern Africa simmered for nearly two hundred years. In 1899, the South African Republic (Transvaal) and the Orange Free State declared war on the British and promptly routed the out-numbered and out-motivated British Army. But after heavily reinforcing their Army, the British easily conquered all the Boer lands by early 1900. At that point, the Boers scattered into small “commando” groups (yes, that’s where the term originated). These commandos roamed the countryside, blending in with civilians, ambushing British soldiers, blowing up trains and telegraphs, and raiding British settlements. Sound familiar?

To combat the Boers, Lord Kitchener, the British commander, implemented a scorched-earth policy. He ordered British soldiers “to sweep the country bare of everything that could give sustenance to the guerrillas, including women and children.” This included systematically destroying crops and farms, burning homes, poisoning wells, and rounding up women and children into concentration camps -- the first recorded instance of concentration camps. Approximately 26,000 women and children eventually died in 109 camps of disease and malnutrition, and whole portions of the country were de-peopled (another 25,000 men were deported). This policy finally broke the will of the guerrilla movement, though it proved a political disaster, both for the British government and for Britain’s standing worldwide.

The Movie

In addition to the concentration camps, Lord Kitchener established small, mobile units to hunt the Boer commandos in open country. One of these units, the Bushveld Carbineers, is recognized as the first modern special forces unit. Breaker Morant involves three members of the Bushveld Carbineers: Lt. Harry “Breaker” Morant (Edward Woodward from The Equalizer), Lt. Peter Handcock (Bryan Cox from Cocktail), and George Witton, who are on trial for the murder of several Boer prisoners and a German missionary. Handcock and Witton are Australians, and Morant is Anglo-Australian.

The facts are these. When Morant’s commanding officer and friend, Captain Hunt, was killed (and mutilated and likely tortured) by a Boer commando group, an enraged Morant led the Carbineers on a search for the commando group. Soon enough, Morant came across a group of commandos, who sought to surrender. Several members of the group were wearing pieces of British uniforms, possibly including Hunt’s jacket. This caused Morant to conclude they killed Captain Hunt. As he considered what to do with the prisoners, the British Intelligence Officer assigned to the unit reminded Morant of Lord Kitchener’s standing verbal order that commandos should not be taken prisoner: “You know the orders from Whitehall. If they show a white flag, we don't see it. I didn't see it.” Thus, Morant ordered the prisoners shot.

Before the trial begins, it is made clear that the British government wants to make an example of Morant, Handcock and Witton. Lord Kitchener’s scorched earth policies caused a tremendous backlash against Britain, and the British hope to shift the blame from their policies onto “out of control” soldiers. To ensure a conviction, the army stacks the deck at the trial. The Australians are assigned an attorney (Major Thomas) who has never litigated a single case. Thomas is given no time to prepare. He is deprived of access to necessary witnesses, who are shipped to India. He faces biased witnesses. And he faces a biased judge.

Unlike a typical Hollywood movie, everything presented in this movie is well within the zone of what really happens at court. There are no impossible theatrics or last-second, mystery witnesses. The judge’s behavior, while infuriating, is nothing I haven’t seen many times in court. Indeed, while we despise many of the judge’s decisions, they are all well within what the law and the procedures allow. Moreover, Thomas does not suddenly transform into a super trial attorney who trips up witness after witness with an amazing wit that exists only in films. Thomas grows into his role as trial attorney, visibly improving as the trial progresses, but he remains only an average attorney at best -- though, as he grows, you begin to wonder if he just might pull it off.

That is all I can tell you about the ending without spoiling the tension for you, except for one interesting fact. The reason the story is constructed so realistically is that this is a true story. The film is based on a play, which was itself based on the book Scapegoats of the Empire, written by defendant Witton himself in 1907.

Issues Raised

Beyond being a great drama, Breaker Morant raises many issues that remain relevant today. During the trial, the movie delves into issues like: (1) can soldiers be held to the same standards to which we hold civilians; (2) does it matter that this was a new kind of war, with a new kind of enemy, that required new strategies to defeat; (3) does it matter that the defendant’s actions were militarily effective; and (4) does it matter that they were following orders or that they believed the were following orders? Indeed, right at the beginning of the trial, Major Thomas challenges the propriety of trying the defendants at all: "soldiers at war should not be judged by civilian rules."

And as for this being a new kind of war, Morant puts it best when he says:

"This is a new kind of war for a new century, George. I suppose this is the first time our enemies have not worn uniforms. Some of them are women, some are children, and some... are missionaries."

Thus, new strategies were called for. For example, Morant is accused of putting Boer prisoners in open carts at the front of trains, where they might be shot at by the enemy. This violated provisions of the Second Convention of The Hague, signed two years earlier, which prohibited soldiers from exposing prisoners to danger. But, as Thomas shows, this action stopped the Boer commandos from blowing up trains. So was this right or wrong? Also, is it relevant that Kitchener ordered that no prisoners be taken? Can they still be tried for shooting prisoners? Does it matter if this policy was the only way to break an insurrection that had already gone on for two years? What if they only believed such an order existed? And what are the moral implications of the same state that issued the “no prisoners” order being the prosecutor of Morant, Handcock and Witton? Should a state be allowed to cast off its own guilt on the people it ordered to carry out the order?

These issues all arise in Breaker Morant. They are not answered because there are no clear answer to any of these. But they are presented in interesting and thought-provoking ways that will give you much to consider, and that could challenge your views. I highly recommend seeing this film.

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Film Friday: Moulin Rouge (2001)

Moulin Rouge is an enjoyable musical with moments of brilliance. But there are two flaws that keep the movie from being a great movie. At times, Moulin Rouge tries to be too clever, but at other times, it is not clever enough.

** spoiler alert **

What Is Moulin Rouge

Directed by Baz Luhrmann (Strictly Ballroom), Moulin Rouge is an unusual 2001 musical based loosely on Guiseppe Verdi’s opera La traviata. It takes place in Paris in 1899, during the "Bohemian Revolution," and tells the story of young writer Christian (Ewan McGregor), who falls in love with cabaret actress Satine (Nicole Kidman), who happens to be incapable of falling in love and suffers from tuberculosis. The romance between the two is interrupted by the Duke (Richard Roxburgh), who is promised Satine in exchange for investing his money into rebuilding the Moulin Rouge and paying for the production of the Indian-inspired "Spectacular Spectacular." As they prepare for the show, Satine and Christian hide their love from the Duke. His discovery of their love, mixed with Satine’s seeming betrayal of Christian, leads to the climax.

But it isn’t the story that makes Moulin Rouge so interesting, it’s the music. Unlike most musicals, with songs specifically written for the musical or its corresponding stage production, Moulin Rouge samples modern pop music. At times, whole songs are sampled, with or without changes to the lyrics. And in these instances, Moulin Rouge is typically brilliant. Elton John’s "Your Song" is woven brilliantly into the story line, as it is first spoken, then sung, then spoken again. The Police’s "Roxanne" was given new life as a Tango, which also drives the plot. Queen’s somewhat obscure "The Show Must Go On," from Freddy Mercury’s last album before his death (1991’s Innuendo), is equally well woven into the plot. The most traditional musical number, "Like A Virgin," also is brilliantly done, with the original lyrics intact, but their meaning changed as Zidler and his brigade of waiters chase the Duke around the room trying to convince him that Satine is both a shy demur girl and yet a wild, passionate creature. Only one song is truly original -- "Come What May" was written for Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet (1996), but was never used prior to Moulin Rouge.

It is in these musical moments that the cleverness of the writer shines through and the film is most enjoyable.

Too Clever By Half

But Moulin Rouge is also a great example of writers trying to be too clever. Moulin Rouge takes its plot from a combination of La Boheme (young writer falls in love with sick girl), La Traviata (courtesan learns to love) and the Greek Tragedy Orpheus and Eurydice (musical genius must venture into the underworld to retrieve his love). This makes for a complex story, but in and of itself, is not the problem. The problem arises when Luhrmann compounds the complexity by shooting the film as a story within a story within a story.

It’s the last story that’s the problem. Generally, the movie is the story of the love of Christian, the penniless writer, and Satine, the loveless actress, who must hide their love from the evil Duke as they work on the story of the penniless sitar player and the loveless courtesan, who must hide their love from the evil Maharaja. Those stories are intertwined enough to challenge the viewer. But on top of this, the writer adds a third story, as we are reminded several times that this entire story is being written by McGregor, a penniless writer sitting alone in his apartment with a typewriter.

There is no reason to add this third layer. In fact, it ultimately detracts from the film, because just when the love story of Christian and Satine comes to a happy and then tragic ending, we are quickly whisked back to McGregor’s apartment, thus taking away the emotional impact of what we have just seen. What's more, this is done for no discernible reason. We are neither given further details of McGregor’s life, like why this story would be significant to him, nor are we shown that despite our grief the “real” Satine still lives. Basically, returning to this third story is the film equivalent of Luhrmann telling the audience, “just kidding.”

But even within the story within the story, the writer gets too clever. As the story unfolds, we are treated to constant foreshadowing of Christian/Satine’s story by the sitar player/ courtesan story. But the foreshadowing is done so constantly and so heavy-handedly that it stops adding tension, by giving the audience hints of what may come, and instead eliminates tension by announcing to the audience exactly what is about to happen right before it does.

Moreover, the writer crams Moulin Rouge full of historical references. For example, the elephant in which Satine lives, really was constructed outside the actual Moulin Rouge. The character of Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa was an actual midget and is considered one of the greatest post-impressionist painters. And many of the strangest images in the movie come directly from the paintings of Toulouse-Lautric. Even the green fairy (Kylie Minogue) is a reference to a famous drink from the period, absinth, which apparently caused madness in many a Bohemian artist. But these references are so fantastic and so strange -- and the audience is given no way to know that they are indeed historically accurate -- that the audience is left feeling that the director is simply trying to clutter the film with surrealistic images. Thus, rather than adding to the movie’s depth, they only confuse and distract from the film.

Not Clever Enough

Yet, in other ways, Moulin Rouge is not clever enough, particularly with some of the sampled songs. As noted above, all but one of the songs is taken from modern pop music. Some are taken in their entirety, but others are not. These others were created by sampling several pop songs, sometimes as little as one lyric, and then mixing the samples together to form medleys. The lyrics were then altered as needed to fit the story, turning these songs into Frankensongs. Finally, the actors recorded the new songs to give the vocals continuity.

But It is in the Frankensongs that the cleverness fails. Many times, the musical combinations are so jarring, particularly when a different sampled song is used for each new line, that no flow is created. At other times, the lyrics simply become non-sense. And unfortunately, some of the key moments in the film are done in this style. For example, in a particularly important scene that should establish the chemistry between Christian and Satine, Christian tries to convince Satine to give their love a chance by singing a series of lyrics from different songs that use the word “love.” But while the idea is clever, the execution is not. With each new lyric, the music changes to reflect the song from which the lyric was taken. But these songs don’t meld well together. Thus, rather than becoming an interesting medley, this becomes an exercise in “name that tune.” And McGregor, who I otherwise think is a great actor, does not have the vocal strength to bring order to this jumble. Thus, rather than building chemistry between the characters, this gimmick distracts the audience from the actors.

At the same time, the writer fails to pay the same attention to Satine. Indeed, rather than scouring the music world for replying lyrics, he just lets her sing-speak her responses. This seems lazy, as if the writer could not be bothered. Moreover, in the middle of this song, the writer suddenly switches from finding “love” songs to David Bowie’s "Heroes," which is a total non-sequitor: “we should be lovers” suddenly becomes “we could be heroes”? How the characters would be considered heroes is never explained, indeed, the line seems more like an excuse to get to a favored song rather than anything related to the plot. And even though the writer breaks free from the lyrics of "Heroes" almost immediately, the lyrics he substitutes don’t make a lot of sense. Consider this exchange:

Christian: We could be heroes, just for one day.
Satine: You, you will be mean.
Christian: No I won’t!
Satine: And I, I’ll drink all the time.
Christian: We should be lovers.
Satine: We can’t do that.
Christian: We should be lovers, and that’s a fact.
Satine: Though nothing, will keep us together.

This exchange has little relation to Christian’s prior wooings or Satine’s prior resistance, and there is no hint anywhere else in the plot that Christian is “mean” or that Satine is a drinker. Indeed, this exchange comes across as entirely out of place when it is sung. And all of this causes a key moment in the film, the moment that establishes the love/chemistry between Christian and Satine, to fall flat.

Conclusion

Thus, while I highly recommend Moulin Rouge as an enjoyable and unique experience, its value is ultimately lessened by a writer who cluttered the film with unnecessary distractions and yet, failed to concentrate sufficiently on certain key parts.

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Film Friday: Patriotic Films

Earlier in the week, I set about trying to find a good patriotic film to review in honor of Independence Day. What I found was interesting.

You Say You Want A Revolution. . .

I began by looking for good movies about our founding. There should be dozens of movies about that right? Wrong. Hollywood has made fewer than a dozen films that deal with the American Revolution? The most famous of these are Drums Along the Mohawk (1939), The Howards of Virginia (1940), 1776 (a musical) (1972), Sweet Liberty (a comedy) (1969), Revolution (1985), and The Patriot (2000). Hardly an inspiring lot.

And this isn’t just an issue of recent Hollywood cynicism. Even during Hollywood’s most patriotic era, between World War II and the early struggle against communism, few such films were made. Why?

Some say that audiences can’t sympathize with characters who wear powdered wigs and knee breeches, who use formal speech patterns and write with quills. But this hasn’t stunted the popularity of Shakespeare, or films about the British Kings and Queens, or even movies like Dangerous Liaisons or Sleepy Hollow. And surely civil war characters speak as formally and look as strangely.

Others say Americans aren’t interested in the topic. Good grief. These are some of the most popular topics on the History Channel and the recent mini-series about John Adams was extremely popular. Me thinks, dear Hollywood, the problem does not lie within the simplicity of the viewers, it lies with thee.

Everybody’s Got An Opinion. . .

Denied the chance to review a revolutionary picture, I stumbled upon something even better: a poll.

Blockbuster Video commissioned a poll a few years ago in which they asked Americans what they wanted in their patriot movies. Sixty-three percent wanted America or Americans portrayed as the underdogs. Forty percent felt that the President should be a main character. Thirty percent wanted the movie to involve a war hero.

Here are the top ten movies they chose as most patriotic:

1. Independence Day
2. Born on the Fourth of July
3. Yankee Doodle Dandy
4. Air Force One
5. Forrest Gump
6. Glory
7. Patton
8. Apollo 13
9. The American President
10. The Longest Day

But is this right? Are these really the best patriotic films? We at Commentarama think you can do a lot better.

A patriotic film should make viewers feel good about being American. It should highlight their country at its best. It should put forth a vision as to the meaning of the country, particularly one such as ours, which was formed intellectually rather than by historical accident. We exist as a nation because our founders thought about how we should live, not because we all fell out of the trees together 50,000 years ago.

So let’s go through the list and make some changes.

1. Independence Day

Independence Day fits our test. This is a story of American resourcefulness and determination, of a group of average Americans that answer the call of duty to defeat an all-powerful enemy. This film reminds us of the promise of our country, the goodness of our people, and the greatness we can achieve as a nation. This film reminds us that Americans rise to meet all challenges and it highlights the self-sacrifice so often repeated in our history.

And while this film is criticized because the President’s final speech is internationalist, don’t forget that he never subsumes America to the rest of the world, he asks them to step up and join us, as our Independence Day becomes their Independence Day.

2. Born of the Fourth of July How the West Was Won

This movie is a horrible choice. One wonders if people watched it, or just chose title. Born in the USA anyone?

Many people argue that a film can be patriotic if it rallies the country to a cause. Born on the 4th of July fits that category, as does All the President’s Men, which is also often named as a patriotic films.

But rallying people to a cause smacks of propaganda, not patriotism. It is one thing to highlight the best in our country and to take pride in our achievements, it is quite another to suggest that people must adopt a certain position to be patriotic.

So let us substitute How The West Was Won. This sprawling epic tells the tale of how America grew from a small nation of eastern states to became the America that we know today. This movie shows the hardships that were overcome, it shows the sacrifices that people made, and it does so without idealizing its characters. These people are quite real. Some are good, some are bad, some are heroic, some are cowardly or rotten. Mistakes are made, but successes are had. And in the end, we see the American spirit writ large in the drive of our ancestors to always seek the better America that lies just over the next hill.

3. Yankee Doodle Dandy

Yankee Doodle Dandy is the James Cagney biography of George M. Cohan, who is most famous for writing the songs “Yankee Doodle Dandy” and “Over There.” It is a feel good story and it’s a little historical. It is an acceptable choice.

4. Air Force One National Treasure

Air Force One is a popular movie, but it’s not a very interesting movie. The President fights terrorists. Ok, cool. But patriotic? Hardly. Below the surface, this is just an action movie. Remove the President and this becomes Die Hard 2.1.

Let us substitute an equally unbelievable action movie, but one with much deeper patriotism: National Treasure. Sure, National Treasure is crawling with conspiracy theories and unbelievable secret societies and hidden puzzles and treasures, but that’s on the surface. Underneath, this movie reveres American history, our founders, and the words (and spirit) with which they founded our nation. And more importantly, the movie manages to pass that pride along to the audience.

5. Forrest Gump To Have And Have Not

Forrest Gump is not a patriotic movie, it is more of a historical drama. It is about a simple man who manages to interact with each of the significant historical events of the 1960s. This movie is often replaced by Rocky on lists of patriotic movies. Rocky is similarly the story of an under dog who overcomes long odds to gain a stunning victory. Both movies are good, but neither movie is particularly patriotic.

Thus, we substitute To Have And Have Not. To Have and Have Not finds Bogart living on the Vichy-French Island of Martinique. He is a symbol of America and Americans at the time. On the surface, he is neutral in the world, concerned primarily with his own business. But he is disturbed by what he sees around him. And beneath the surface, his strong moral code and deep-rooted patriotism, lead him to take a stand, at great personal risk, to do that which he knows to be right. This movie provides both an interesting view of how American attitudes and policy changed at the beginning of World War II, as Americans abandoned their isolationism and took a stand against tyranny, and it is a study in the classical view of American patriotism.

6. Glory Gettysburg

Glory was a good movie, but it was limited. A much better choice would be Gettysburg. Whereas Glory involved a small battle, Gettysburg involved the battle that transformed New Yorkers, Marylanders and Mainiacs into Americans. It also ensured that the Union would survive.

But even more than this, Gettysburg does something truly rare in film, it does a tremendous job of honoring both sides in the conflict by letting each side fairly explain their beliefs and by showing that both sides genuinely believed they were fighting for the good of their country. And in so doing, this movie makes us proud of both Northerners and Southerners, and it humbles us with what they endured for their beliefs.

7. Patton Sergeant York

Patton is a popular choice, but Sergeant York is better. Patton is the story of an American hero, but it tells us little about the American spirit. Patton always considered himself something more than just an American and it comes across in this movie, as he is portrayed as an arrogant man who cares more for his own glory than his country or his men.

Sergeant York, on the other hand, is a truly patriotic movie. York is a pacifist who is called to action. He is humble, heroic and likable. He is the idealized American every-man. He makes us proud, just as he makes the people at home proud. And even better, everyone around him is portrayed positively as well. His fellow soldiers are brave, competent and honest. His family and friends are decent. Even when he is brought to the “big city,” the people he meets are neither shallow nor cynical. This movie represents the best that America has to offer.

8. Apollo 13

Apollo 13 represents Americans coming together to do great things. It shows the courage of the men and women who ran the space race, and it shows how all Americans come together in times of crisis. This movie oozes civic pride, and it is a good choice.

9. The American President Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

No, no, no, no. A movie about an American President who takes a sharp left turn when he falls in love with a lobbyist? In the immortal words of Sergeant Carter, you have got to be kidding me Pyle!

How about Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. This story, about a naive and idealistic man appointed to the United States Senate, shows American government at its idealized best. As Smith discovers the shortcomings of the political process and fights his way through them, we are shown how good American government can be, when its participants act in good faith. It is a hopeful and patriotic film.

10. The Longest Day

Finally, we come to The Longest Day. This movie belongs on this list. The Longest Day shows the incredible determination and bravery of the men who overcame a seemingly invincible foe to free Europe from Nazi oppression. One by one, the great actors in this movie give us glimpses of the better parts of every aspect of American society. And best of all, this movie does not denigrate their achievement by making the Germans out at clowns or sadistic buffoons. As with Gettysburg, this movie honors the men who fought and died for this country.

After a little re-ranking from most patriotic to least, here is your Commentarama certified list:

1. Gettysburg
2. Sergeant York
3. The Longest Day
4. Independence Day
5. National Treasure
6. Mr. Smith Goes To Washington
7. How The West Was Won
8. To Have And Have Not
9. Apollo 13
10. Yankee Doodle Dandy

Thoughts?

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Film Friday: Rope (1948)

Alfred Hitchcock's most twisted film, Rope, is the story of two men who kill their friend and then host a dinner party over the chest in which they’ve hidden the body. And that’s just the beginning. If you haven’t heard of Rope, there is a reason. Calling Rope “an experiment that didn’t work out,” Hitchcock bought back the rights, along with four other “lost Hitchcocks” (The Man Who Knew Too Much, Rear Window, The Trouble With Harry and Vertigo), and he kept them from being shown in public for 30 years, until his daughter released them after his death.

** spoiler alert **

Rope: Hitchcock's Big Experiment

Based on the 1929 play Rope’s End by Patrick Hamilton, Rope was Hitchcock’s most experimental film. Indeed, not only was this Hitchcock’s first color film (ditto for Jimmy Stewart), but the film was shot in ten segments, ranging in length from four minutes to ten minutes, with each segment being filmed as a continuous take. Thus, as the camera and sound gear moved around the set (the film takes place in an apartment), the film crew rolled away walls and returned them, the prop men moved furniture out of the way and returned it, and the actors followed an elaborate choreography to keep out of the way of the film crew. Amazingly, you never notice.

The Story

Inspired by the real-life murder of fourteen-year-old Bobby Franks in 1924 by two University of Chicago students, Rope opens with Brandon (John Dall) and Phillip (Farley Granger) murdering their friend David by strangling him with a rope in their apartment. The scene opens as David gasps his last breath and goes limp. Brandon and Phillip then stuff David’s body into a large chest in the middle of the apartment. They killed him because they wanted to prove they could commit the perfect crime. They chose David as the victim because they viewed him as "inferior."

To satisfy his twisted ego, Brandon complicates matters by inviting David’s father, aunt, and fiancee to a small dinner party that will be held in the apartment. Unbeknownst to Phillip, Brandon upped the ante by also inviting David’s former best friend, who used to date David’s fiancee, and their former teacher, Rupert Cadell (Jimmy Stewart). At the last moment, Brandon further ups the stakes, by moving the dinner party from the dining room to the living room and choosing to serve food off the chest in which David's body is hidden. As the guests begin arriving, Brandon tells us, “Now the fun begins.” And so it does.

As the story unfolds, Hitchcock gives the audience a steady dose of black humor, allowing us in on the joke as the characters deliver dozens of lines like “these hands will bring you great fame,” and as Brandon makes repeated subtle references to David’s being dead and steers the conversation to the topic of murder. But with each passing joke, Brandon pushes further, becoming more and more careless and maniacal, while Phillip begins to crack.

Yet, Hitchcock tricks us into cheering for Brandon and Phillip. He does this by using their bickering to force the audience to empathize with them. Like Quentin Tarantino does in Pulp Fiction, Hitchcock uses their interaction to pull the audience into their relationship. You become invested in them. Combined with the sense of belonging one gets with being “in” on a joke, as we are with Brandon's repeated jokes at the expense of his guests, the audience slowly begins to pull for these two villains to get away with their crime. Indeed you find yourself increasingly tense as it gets more and more likely they will be caught. We even find ourselves becoming annoyed with David’s father, who is preoccupied with his missing son, and who repeatedly ruins the party for us with his sour concerns. We no longer see him as a caring father. Instead, we see him as the guest we wish hadn't been invited.

We also begin to distrust and then even dislike Jimmy Stewart, who becomes suspicious and begins to investigate. The more he pushes, the more unhappy we become. In a brilliant bit of manipulation, we watch Stewart use a metronome to force Phillip to play the piano faster and faster, as Stewart crossexamines him about the holes in their story until Phillip nearly breaks. But rather than celebrate Stewart's victory, this only increases our feelings of unease and disgust with the weakening Phillip, who is falling apart before our eyes. We begin to wonder, will we make it to the end of the party before he breaks.

And then, to prove to us that we now emotionally support the murderers, Hitchcock presents us with a tremendous scene where we watch the maid clearing the plates and candles from the chest. As the other actors continue their dialog off camera, we watch her slowly, but surely clear the chest and finally reach to open it. By that point, we are on the edge of our seats, wanting to scream to Brandon: "look what she's doing! Stop her!" We are rooting for the bad guys.

The Message

But just as we succumb to Hitchcock’s manipulation, Jimmy Stewart snaps us back to morality. In a moment reminiscent of the speech given by Jose Ferrer in The Caine Mutiny (1954), which changes the entire emotional complexion of that film, Stewart makes us realize that Brandon and Phillip are indeed monsters and we should be ashamed of having hoped for them to pull off their crime. For Stewart realizes that he is the reason Brandon and Phillip killed David, and it makes him sick. He recalls how he discussed with them the intellectual concepts of Nietzsche’s Ubermensch while they were students and how he advocated to them (as he does earlier in the film during a conversation which upsets David’s father) the idea that superior men not only have a right, but a duty, to murder inferior men. And even though he never meant his comments to be taken literally, he now realizes how dangerous his words were when spoken to impressionable young men. . . men like Brandon, who may honestly believe Stewart would approve of their “work of art.” Therein lies the message: words have power and we must take care in choosing what we say or we will rue the consequences.

And when Stewart understands how he shares the guilt for the murder he believes has taken place, Stewart shows the audience a level of horror in his face and in his shaking hands that Stewart has never shown in any other film. And when we see this, we too feel sick for how we laughed and condoned and enjoyed being on the inside earlier.

If there is a flaw in the film, it is that while Hitchcock can force us to root for the two murderers by engaging us in their relationship, he never does manage to make us believe their views about superior humans. Thus, while we do eventually feel shame for hoping they get away with the murder, it is not as deep as if we had come to accept their philosophy before Stewart exposes it. It is the difference between being ashamed of having laughed at an inappropriate joke, versus being ashamed at having told it. Indeed, I believe this is why The Caine Mutiny speech ultimately has greater effect -- because we never consider that we could be wrong until Ferrer speaks, whereas here we always knew Brandon and Phillip were wrong, we just didn’t mind.

As an aside, there is another message hidden in here, which is Hitchcock's statement against anti-Semitism. It is implied that David's family is Jewish and that this may have been part of their motivation in choosing him, something that is reinforced with the discussion of Nietzsche's theories, which became a core of Nazism.

Implied Homosexuality

Finally, it's worth noting Rope was notorious because of the implied homosexuality of the main characters. Indeed, the film was banned in several cities because of it. Yet, while it is clear the characters are meant to be gay (as indeed were the real University of Chicago students upon whom they are based and as were actors John Dall and Farley Granger and the writer), the implication is not obvious to the casual observer, who could easily see their relationship as being explained merely in Brandon bullying the weaker Phillip.

In any event, I highly recommend this film.

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Film Friday: The Fifth Element (1997)

In the 1950s, science fiction was forward looking but silly. In the 1960s, science fiction became humorless and introspective about man’s place in the universe. Then science fiction became darkly dystopian -- we suck and it’s all going down the drain. It is against this backdrop of Blade Runner knock-offs and dark, leather clad aliens roaming ruined planets, that we find Luc Besson’s richly-textured view of the future in The Fifth Element. Besson (La Femme Nikita, Leon) presents a movie that is both ambitious and daring, and which, consequently, stands unique among science fiction films today.

** spoiler alert **

The Plot

The Fifth Element is the story of the battle between good and evil. Representing good, we have (1) a religious order that protects a secret weapon placed on the earth by an alien species (Mondoshawans), (2) retired-soldier turned cabdriver Corbin Dallas (Bruce Willis), and (3) the universe’s supreme being -- a genetically perfect woman named Leeloo (Milla Jovovich). Representing evil, we have a powerful force hidden within a molten ball of rock and fire. Assisting evil is industrialist Zorg (Gary Oldman) and a group of mercenary aliens known as Mangalores. The story revolves around the need for the good guys to gather four stones and return them to an ancient Egyptian temple in time to allow the secret weapon to stop the evil force from returning to Earth. But it is beyond the basic story where The Fifth Element really becomes special.

Besson’s Daring Film

What separates The Fifth Element from other science fiction movies are the daring and interesting choices Besson makes as a director. Indeed, Besson violates several “rules” of the science fiction genre:

1. The Hero Must Defeat The Villain In The Big Showdown: Amazingly, Corbin Dallas, the hero, never meets with or communicates with either the evil force or Zorg at any point in the film. Corbin never even learns who Zorg is. At one point, Zorg does briefly shoot at Leeloo, but like Corbin, she has no idea who Zorg is and they never speak. Yet, the audience never feels deprived of the big show down.

2. Everyone Speaks English: Several of the aliens speak languages other than English, and they are not subtitled. More significantly, Leeloo, the heroine, does not speak a recognizable word of English until near the end of the film. Yet, it works. Not only does Besson find alternative means for making her understood, but it lends her character a reality that is lost in other movies when the strangest of aliens start speaking perfect English.

3. Always Tie Your Move To The Present: To draw the audience into the film, science fiction directors always tie the movie into the present. This can be as blatant as including scenes from the present day to as “subtle” as having the characters pontificate about “the twentieth century” . . . looking at you Star Trek. Besson does it differently. The film begins with an opening sequence that takes place in 1913, and then immediately shifts to 2263 (jumping over us entirely). And unlike Star Trek, there is no mention of our time. Yet, the audience never feels distant from the film because the film shows us a future that feels like a natural outgrowth of our own times.

4. The Sounds of Minimalism: Science fiction soundtracks have increasingly trended toward minimalist or surreal music (like Phillip Glass). Besson takes a completely different approach. Besson uses a combination of techno music that is heavily influenced by Arabic music, Paris street musicians, and Opera. Indeed, one of the most interesting moments in the film involves the opera performance by the Diva Plavalaguna, a sort of techno opera.

5. Avoid Unusual Film Techniques: Most science fiction directors play it fairly straight, probably out of fear that they are already out on a limb with their story lines. Besson, on the other hand, does something amazing. Besson uses incredibly precise cuts to give the movie a fast paced feel despite its 127 minute run time. Moreover, Besson uses these cuts to mix different scenes involving different characters in such a way that we almost feel they are speaking to each other. This allows Besson to give us information from multiple perspectives simultaneously and it dramatically cuts down on the amount of dialog and number of scenes needed to convey necessary information to the audience. In the hands of a lesser director such cuts could easily have seemed gimmicky or confused (see Smoking Aces), but in Besson’s hands, these cuts are so well done it is difficult to conceive of this movie being filmed without them.

Besson’s Ambitious World

Beyond his daring, Besson gives the viewer another treat unlike anything in modern science fiction: he gives us an immersive world. It is the rare science fiction film that can resist showing their view of the future. But when they do, it usually takes the form of some quick narrative at the beginning of the film, followed by a handful of plot-irrelevant moments where the audience is asked to focus on an idea or two about how we will live in the future. These moments are almost always accompanied by some comment along the lines of “I can’t image how they used to. . .” and are quickly abandoned once the plot begins moving again. Consequently, these moments typically offer little more than a distraction. Not so Besson.

Besson never once makes his ideas about future conveniences into the focal point of a scene. Instead, he weaves them seamlessly into the background of each scene. For example, we see Leeloo and Zorg’s secretary applying make up, we see Corbin’s bedsheets automatically folded and his bathroom automatically washed, we see food rehydrated and a 23rd Century version of a cigarette machine, but these things happen in the background of scenes. Besson never stops the film to highlight them.

Moreover, Besson’s characters are real people with real lives. Corbin’s apartment is dirty and cluttered. His mother nags him. He has an ex-wife, who ran off with his lawyer. Several characters have pets. Each of the characters has a unique wardrobe -- no generic civilization-wide jumpsuits here. We see how they entertain themselves. We hear their music, we see their television ads, and we meet Ruby Rod (Chris Tucker), a truly believable 23rd Century evolution of Howard Stern.

But most importantly, we get to see the entire range of human endeavor. Almost without exception, science fiction films limit their characters to a few chosen “important” professions. Beyond the individuals directly involved in the plot, you rarely see more than soldiers, scientists, industrialists and government types. Besson shows us these, but then goes so much further. You meet religious figures (from multiple religions), cabbies, secretaries, commercial pilots, stewardesses, garbage men, dock workers, cops, McDonald’s employees, and many more. And each of these characters has a speaking part. Unlike the sterile, lonely future that is commonly presented, this is a real future where we can truly believe that billions of people live and work.

And in that regard, we are given something else that is not common in science fiction films: livable space. While most science fiction tells us that our great grand children will live in dark, dank warehouses or sterile, plastic apartments, Besson’s characters live and work in bright, ergonomic, livable (and lived in) spaces. This is the world as humanity would really make it, not a world designed to increase audience tension. Seriously, would any human really go into space aboard the Event Horizon?

Lastly, Besson does something truly unusual -- he gives his aliens a full range of personalities. Indeed, the Mangalores, the main bad guys (right), are some of the most emotive aliens ever to come along. They run the gambit from joy to frustration to anger to dismay to simple puzzlement. They are stupid and foolish. They play around. They scratch their heads when they are confused. They are unlike any other aliens seen on film, and that makes them compelling.

Science fiction could learn a lot from Besson about how to create a layered, interesting view of the future.

The Message

Finally, we come to the message of the film. This is the one area where Besson fails. Despite crafting such an interesting and many faceted world, when it comes to the film’s message, Besson punts. Admittedly, he does tack a standard liberal “gee ain’t we bad” message onto the end of the film, but this seems to be used solely for the purpose of getting Dallas to admit his love for Leeloo. Indeed, earlier in the film Leeloo is seen enjoying Kung Fu movies of the type that now supposedly cause her to see nothing good in the human race. Moreover, once Dallas admits his love, this “oh rotten humans” message gets utterly discarded and the new message becomes that one person’s love can redeem the rest of the human race. And while this could be seen as religious symbolism, there is no follow up or depth to support such a message.

Earlier in the film, Besson makes several attempts to give us a message through Father Cornelius (Ian Holm). Each time someone tells him they do not have sufficient time for something, he replies: “time does not matter, only life.” But this message is meaningless. Indeed, even if Besson had something specific in mind for this message, there is no moment where we see the pay off. Thus, we are left without a message to be gleaned. . . although, maybe that's not such a bad thing?

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Film Friday: Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989)

Ladies, did sexual liberation work for you? Steven Sonderbergh doesn’t think so, and he has some advice for you. That advice can be found in Sex, Lies, and Videotape, a $1.8 million movie that was added to the United States Library of Congress’s National Film Registry in 2006 after being deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” That’s got to mean something, right?

** spoiler alert **

Sex, Lies, and Videotape ostensibly tells the story of four unhappy people. Ann (Andie MacDowell) is the repressed housewife of John (Peter Gallagher), a lecherous attorney who is having an affair with Ann’s sister Cynthia (Laura San Giacomo). As the story begins, John has invited old college friend Graham (James Spader) to stay with them. Graham, who is impotent, videotapes people talking about sex. After Graham tapes Cynthia, each of their lives begins to change. Before everything is said and done, Cynthia dumps John, Ann demands a divorce from John, and Cynthia and Ann reconcile.

What This Movie Is Not About

So what is Sonderbergh’s point? Well, before we can delve into Sonderbergh’s meaning, there is something you must realize: this movie is entirely about the evolution of Ann and Cynthia, they are the only characters who matter. Everybody wants to focus on Graham because he’s the most unique character in the film, but this movie is not about Graham. Indeed, many critics spent their entire reviews speculating about Graham, only to ultimately express their confused disappointment that the film never answered their questions. What they miss is that he’s a red herring. Graham tells us as much when he volunteers right away that he's impotent. That is an admission that he may only watch, he can take no action. And true to form, he never once drives the plot, he merely acts as a sounding board against which Ann and Cynthia reassess their lives. In fact, you could replace him with a priest, a therapist or even another female friend, and nothing would change about this movie.

John too is not relevant to this film. John doesn't grow, he doesn't learn. At no point are we given access to his thoughts. And at the very end of the movie, rather than giving us some revelation of insight, John just walks away -- because he never mattered. His purpose in this film is to show us how Ann and Cynthia both fall for his manipulations even though one is “liberated” and the other is "repressed."

What This Movie Is About

So what is this film about? Sex, Lies, and Videotape criticizes the attitudes many women developed as a result of the sexual revolution. According to Sonderbergh, happiness cannot be found either in remaining repressed or in adopting casual sex lifestyle.

The key to this movie is the changes that occur in the two sister. Ann is repressed. She represents women who are ill at ease with sexual liberation (the archetype “prude”). She is so repressed that she finds even the mention of sex upsetting, and she will obsess about problems she cannot fix (like the amount of garbage in the world) to avoid any hint of sex creeping into her life. She no longer even lets her husband touch her. Cynthia, on the other hand, is the polar opposite (the archetype “slut”). She has adopted a casual sex lifestyle. She has no moral concerns at all about sex, as evidenced by the fact she's sleeping with her sister’s husband.

The introduction of Graham, provides the process by which Sonderbergh exposes these two women. Both will eventually make videos for Graham, and in both instances, the experience changes them for the better. Ann comes to realize that sex is not wrong and finds release from her fears and pressures by shaking off her repressed attitude. Cynthia, on the other hand, learns that there is a level of intimacy in sex that she is missing with her casual attitude. Sonderbergh’s message: fearing sex will only make you unhappy, but so will treating sex like just another pastime.

Moreover, Sonderbergh repeatedly stresses that it is within our own selves that the blame for our unhappiness lies, and that women must stop casting blame upon each other for their own problems. Before their awakening, while both women are still deeply unhappy, each blames the other’s “wrong” views on sex for their own unhappiness. Indeed, at one point, Ann admits:

“I hate it when I have feelings [Cynthia] has. It bothers me when I think about men because I know that’s how she thinks.”

Cynthia, on the other hand, essentially blames Ann for making it possible for her to sleep with John, and she admits to enjoying the idea of having sex with John on Ann’s own bed as a sort of revenge. It is only when the two women stop casting blame on each other and realize the power to control their own lives within themselves that they become happy.

Graham’s True Role

Though I said earlier that Graham is irrelevant to the movie, that is not entirely true. Sonderbergh has one more point, and he makes it through Graham.

We see Graham as some sort of strange voyeur, and he makes us uneasy. Indeed, Roger Ebert described his videotaping as “a form of sexual assault; [through which] he has power not over their bodies but over their minds, over their secrets.” But Graham represents us, the viewers: we are doing exactly what Graham is doing -- watching video of two women discuss their sexuality. And we are doing this for the same reason that Ann and Cynthia blamed each other for their own problems -- because we believe that seeing other people with more messed up lives means that ours are somehow less bad. You can hear this charge when Ann confronts Graham at the end of the film and he, speaking for us, tries to justify his voyeurism: “I see John and Cynthia and you and I feel comparatively healthy.” But Ann, i.e. Sonderbergh, responds simply, “You’ve got a problem.”

When Graham then replies, on our behalf, that his problems are his own, and thus, none of her business, Ann shoots that down as well: “You think they’re yours, but they’re not. Everybody who comes through that door becomes part of your problem.” And thus, we are told to examine our own lives to see if we are not repeating these destructive behaviors.

The Critics, Wrong Again

Finally, a quick word on the critics. Drawing deeply from the well of subtlety, many critics patted themselves on the back for recognizing that as Ann’s life was changing, Graham offered her water instead of ice tea when she came to visit. This was apparently deeply symbolic of the change in her life. But these same masters of the subtle arts missed the overall message. Indeed, most critics viewed this movie as simply a meaningless tale about sex with no particular message. They also loved to express their shock at Graham’s voyeurism (no irony there folks).

Ebert, who described the movie as being about four people with “confused sex lives,” declared the film “more clever than enlightening.” And strangely, after condemning Graham’s voyeurism as “a form of sexual assault” Ebert later concludes that the movie “reminds us of how sexy the movies used to be, back in the days when speech was an erogenous zone.” Ah yes. . . the days of sexual assault. . . the good old days.

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Film Friday: Brazil (1985)

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. But does relative power corrupt as well? Terry Gilliam tells us that it does in Brazil, a film as notorious for its history as its content. Brazil is a fascinating, if unpleasant movie, about the abuse of power at every level of society. And while Gilliam makes a movie that deserves to be watched, his message ultimately fails.

** spoiler alert **

The Plot/Message

As anyone who has seen a Terry Gilliam film can attest, giving a quick plot summary is impossible. But if you distill the plot of Brazil to the bare minimum, you discover that Brazil is a thinly-veiled remake of 1984: Meek boy lives in repressive world. Boy meets girl. Boy thinks girl is an anti-state terrorist, decides to become terrorist to impress the girl, and ends up causing girl to become target of the state.

But it isn’t the plot that matters so much in Brazil as it is the individual characters Gilliam offers. Brazil is about the abuse of power at every level of society. Brazil revolves around the consequences that flow from a clerical error which causes the state to issue a warrant for the arrest of Mr. Archebald Buttle, when it was actually looking to arrest a “terrorist” named Archibald Tuttle. It is because Mrs. Buttle was overcharged for the costs of interrogating and executing her husband that we meet our hero, Sam Lowry, a low-level, meek bureaucrat played convincingly by Jonathan Pryce. Through Sam, we meet characters in every walk of life, each of whom abuses whatever power they have over others. Let us consider the characters Gilliam offers, and their sins:

• The State: Throughout the movie, the state is an omnipresent character. The police are on every corner, the secret police in every shadow. But while the state is meant to represent Orwell’s Oceana, this government is sclerotic and verges on collapse due to bureaucratic entropy and incompetence. Indeed, the character representing the highest echelons of government is Mr. Helpmann, a physically crippled man who needs Sam’s help even to use the toilet. The symbolism is intentional.

Gilliam’s government is obsessed with terrorism. It believes that a group of anti-government terrorists are setting off bombs all over the country, and it is ruthlessly rounding up people to try to stop them. Yet, as the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear there are no terrorists: the explosions are the result of inept repair work conducted by the Central Services Agency -- a government agency that tightly controls the maintenance field. It is also clear the government is rounding up innocent people, like Mr. Buttle.

• Mr. Kurtzmann (Ian Holm): Sam first introduces us to his boss. Kurtzmann (whose name is symbolic of his position) is the low man on the bureaucratic totem pole. He runs an office that sits about as far below the political power structure as one can get in this world. But he has absolute power within that office. He thus acts the tyrant within his own office, but literally cowers before any duties that could bring attention from higher agencies. Moreover, he employs a series of passive-aggressive tactics, including faking dependence/ helplessness, to get Sam to take on the responsibilities of Kurtzmann’s position. And when he fears that Sam will leave his office through promotion, Kurtzmann sabotages that promotion by rejecting it on Sam’s behalf (and without Sam’s knowledge).

• Sam’s Mother Ida (Katherine Helmond): When Sam becomes obsessed with helping Jill, he decides he must get himself promoted to a new agency -- the Ministry of Information. Because Kurtzmann already declined the promotion for him, Sam seeks the help of his mother in getting the promotion offered a second time. His mother is a rich socialite who has connections to Mr. Helpmann. She uses those connections to get Sam the promotion, i.e. uses her influence to extract a personal favor from government. She also abuses the power afforded to her through her wealth to attract young male gold-diggers and to obtain the services of the best doctor in the land (who himself abuses his patients’ trust to engage in a sort of heinous race with another doctor to conduct the most bizarre plastic surgeries). Finally, she abuses her influence over Sam to control his life, even going so far as to attempt to arrange a marriage for him.

• Spoor (Bob Hoskins): As we wait to see whether Sam’s mother can affect his promotion, Sam’s air conditioner breaks. This coincidence introduces us to the real Mr. Archibald Tuttle (Robert De Niro). Tuttle is a rogue mechanic, mechanicing without a license. He is the one symbol in the film that the world could be a better place. And his presence is immediately offset by the arrival of Spoor and Spoor’s assistant. Spoor is a mechanic from Central Services. He and his assistant use the power the state has given them to demand access to Sam’s home so they can snoop around. When Sam responds by throwing their own regulations back at them as a roadblock -- indeed, they failed to bring the appropriate form to make the repair -- they are driven away. But they return with a vengeance, using their bureaucratic power to occupy Sam’s home and make his life hell.

• Mr. Warrenn (Ian Richardson): Sam’s promotion introduces us to the first character who appears to be competent, efficient, and redeeming -- mid-level bureaucrat Mr. Warrenn. Warrenn moves through the office in a dance of bureaucratic efficiency, reviewing requests and barking out commanding orders. This is a man who seems to get things done. Unfortunately, upon closer examination, we quickly discover that Warrenn’s decisions involve trivial matters, and that he is more concerned that his employees worship him and wear suits of his liking than he is with any sort of actual work. He is thus abusing his power to turn his office into a form of cult.

• Sam’s “deskmate”: As Sam settles into his 4’ x 3’ office, we meet the man who shares his desk, though they both sit in separate offices -- the desk protrudes through the wall. Because these two men are of equal level, they fight over the desk, each trying to yank the desk more into their office. As a temporary truce is called, Sam discovers that this deskmate has a computer that may contain the information he needs. Although the deskmate does not even know how to turn the computer on, he refuses to let Sam use the computer simply because having the computer on his desk gives him the power to withhold such consent. Sam eventually learns from the computer that Jill has become a suspected terrorist.

• Jack (Michael Palin): When Sam learns that Jill is in danger, he seeks the help of his old school friend Jack, who works at Information Retrieval. Jack is the most heavy-handed of Gilliam’s abusers. While he is warm and friendly with Sam, and we see him playing with his own young daughter in his office, we also learn that Sam tortures (and kills) suspects in the back room of his office. Jack, like the rest, seems to delight in using the vast power given to him and we know he abuses that power because we know he is torturing and killing innocent people.

In each instance, the characters Gilliam gives us abuse the little bits of power they are given. It is against this backdrop that we are given Jill and Sam.

Sam “The Hero”

Sam first sees Jill when he attempts to return the overcharge to Mrs. Buttle. Jill is perhaps the only non-abusive character because she is the common worker. . . a prole. She drives a truck, her skin is dirty, and she has no power over anyone. Unfortunately for her, she looks like the girl in Sam’s dreams and thus becomes his obsession. To satisfy this obsession, Sam decides to help her, whether she wants his help or not. His help will ultimately convince the state that she is a terrorist, which will lead to her arrest. Her ultimate fate is not known, though we can infer she will die like all the other suspects.

Sam is ostensibly the hero, though he is never heroic. He dreams of being a hero, but his real life is cowardly. He lets events dictate his action -- indeed Gilliam consciously made sure Sam never speaks first in any scene. He is easily manipulated by those around him, through pleas for help, appeals to loyalty, or simple fear. And the few instances where he takes it upon himself to act “heroically,” his actions are reactionary, poorly-conceived, poorly-executed, abusive in nature, and get everyone into more trouble than they were in before he started helping them. Indeed, it is only because of his actions that Jill gets marked as a terrorist.

Any heroism in Sam is in his own head. Not only does he repeatedly have fantasies in which he is the white knight fighting evil to rescue the girl, but when he is finally arrested and is being interrogated by his friend Jack, he fantasizes that Tuttle and a group of other terrorists come save him. In the process, they destroy the government and save Jill. We know this to be a fantasy because Tuttle dies when he is eaten by litter. And Sam recognizes the impossibility of this as well, but rather than returning to reality, Sam chooses instead to remain in his fantasy world and to imagine he and Jill escape to live a happy life in the country. But this ending is soon revealed to be false as the camera pulls us back to reality, where Sam remains in Jack’s chair, with his mind gone. He has given up.

More important than Sam’s failed heroism is the fact that every instance in which Sam obtains power (however minor) he abuses it. When he realizes the guards will fear him because of his badge, he plays this up gleefully. When he gains access to the government computer he uses that access to satisfy his personal desires to spy on Jill. When he realizes he has the power to involve himself in Jill’s life, he does so to satisfy his obsession, making decisions for her, without ever stopping to wonder whether satisfying his own desires is good for her or what she would want. Every single time Sam obtains some power, he abuses it. And that is Gilliam’s message -- all power corrupts, not just absolute power.

Where Gilliam Fails

Yet, while his message is worthwhile, Gilliam ultimately fails to make his point. Sam is a character with no redeeming qualities. By comparison, real people are a complex mix of good and bad. Pryce plays a very subtle and nuanced character, but he is nevertheless a half-character. Thus, we never see Sam as a warning to ourselves because he is so one-dimensional. Since we cannot sympathize with Sam, we cannot attribute his failings to ourselves. Thus, the message is lost.

Also, Gilliam offers us no glimpse of how we should be acting. Where is the example that teaches us how we should behave? How do you act in a world were relative power exists in every relationship? Without this guidance, the movie does little more than offer the philosophical equivalent of “that sucks.” Even uber-critic Roger Ebert failed to grasp the point to this movie:

“The movie is very hard to follow. I have seen it twice, and am still not sure exactly who all the characters are, or how they fit. . . there seems to be no sure hand at the controls.”

But most significantly, Gilliam fails in his very purpose. Gilliam meant Brazil to be an attack on Thatcherism. However, his intent is not at all clear as nothing in the film resembles Thatcher’s England. Moreover, Gilliam fails to grasp that the target of his attacks are in fact the very things Thatcher struggled to overcome: corrupt bureaucracy, lazy unions, large faceless government, and concentrations of power. Indeed, with no sense of irony at all, Gilliam has stated that much to his “surprise” Brazil has apparently become “a favorite film of the far right in America.” Silly Terry, civil liberties are for righties.

Despite this failure, Gilliam has a point -- power corrupts, not just absolute power. And Brazil is an interesting, though disturbing film, that deserves to be watched.

History of Brazil/The Sheinberg Version

Brazil was originally released internationally at 142 minutes; a 131 minute version was prepared for United States audiences. But when the movie didn’t test well, Universal Chairman Sid Sheinberg cut the movie down to 94 minutes and gave the movie a happy ending. If you’ve ever seen it on television, that’s the version you saw. . . and you probably hated it. It wasn't until the Los Angeles Film Critics Association awarded the 131 minute, unreleased version their Best Picture Award for 1985, that Universal finally agreed to release the longer version.

When Sheinberg cut the 94 minute version, he was concerned that American audience could not understand this film because (1) Sam was too passive to be a hero, (2) the movie lacked a happy ending, and (3) it lacked an American star in the lead role. Thus, he re-edited the film to make Sam appear more assertive, even though this makes his character appear petulant and prone to unexplained outbursts. Indeed, he re-edited most scenes to make Sam speak first, thus eliminating the dialog that caused most of Sam’s outbursts. Sheinberg also cut off the ending to leave the audience with the idea that Sam and Jill now live happily ever after. He also plays up Robert De Niro’s character Tuttle. To do this, he removed all suggestions that the terrorist threat was not real. Rather than being a rogue electrician in a collapsing world, Sheinberg uses Sam’s fantasies to create a real rebellion and to put Tuttle at its head. Interestingly, however, he leaves in the moment where Tuttle is eaten by paper. These changes convert the movie from an interesting rant into a surreal, confused jumble.

Stick with the longer versions.

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