short cuts

Lately, I haven't been very good about getting to the movies. When I was in high school, I wrote a weekly movie review column with my dad for the local paper. As a result, I got into the habit of seeing at least one movie a week. I did the Arts section for my college newspaper, and I kept a similar schedule. But now, as a grown-up (eek!), it's harder. Time (and money) are at a premium. But, since moving to New York, I've made more of an effort. I really love film, and it feels odd to not stay current. Similarly, it feels odd not writing about film on a weekly, if not daily, basis. So, I am going to try to keep track of my viewing habits on this blog.
I saw Elizabeth: The Golden Age a few weeks ago, it's opening weekend, I believe. What a mess. It's all a blur of feathers, scowls, raised eyebrows, ripped bodices and red wigs. I loved the first Elizabeth film, and found it to be an intriguing contemporary interpretation of the normally stale costume drama. It was visually brazen and gave us Cate Blanchett, who is so clearly the new Meryl Streep. In the sequel, which finds Elizabeth settling into the "Bette Davis Period" of her reign, even Blanchett seems ill-at-ease with the proceedings. Sure, she gets a grand speech about having a hurricane within her. Yeah, she gets to wear boy armor and ride around on a horse. Clive Owen's around, but you never really know why. To call it disjointed would be too kind. At the least the costumes are ravishing (rivaling the primo duds from Marie Antoinette, but overall, a less visually coherent or aesthetically impressive film). And Samantha Morton has too small a part as the bilious Mary Queen of Scots. It's an amusingly sinister performance, one that seems meant for a different (and better) movie.
I just got back from seeing Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, an uber-buzzworthy indie from veteran director Sidney Lumet. After a knockout career in the 70s (he did Network), Lumet faded into schlock territory in the 80s and 90s. He was even responsible for the Sharon Stone clunker Gloria. Oh how the mighty fall. Many people have labeled this film, about the perfect crime gone tragically awry, a comeback picture. And while it does offer a visual coherence and attention to character detail that hearken back to 70s cinema, it's also a fairly cliched, melodramatic and contrived caper film. The film's biggest problem is the jumbled chronology of the narrative ... in the spirit of Babel I suppose. Sometimes this device works (it's great in Pulp Fiction) but here it just feels like an attempt to hide the holes in the plot. Movies about sibling strife, financial desperation, anguish and guilt depend on tension to hold everything together. Long silences, swelling tears, etc. When you hop around, you lose this crucial glue and end up with a few nice scenes and that's about it. Ethan Hawke and Philip Seymour Hoffman have great fun playing misfit brothers who decide to knock over their parents' jewelry store. Hoffman's is a more one-dimensional, almost cartoonish portrayal. I think it's the way the character's written. This guy can do anything, really, and is nothing if not fun to watch. Hawke struck me as the real revelation. Sometimes he's too twitchy and self-conscious on screen, but here he plays naive and troubled with conviction. I don't get those trumpeting this one as an Oscar contender. Hawke, yes, and even Hoffman, too. But it should stop there.