wrapping up again

I've seen quite a few movies lately, but due to the hectic pace of life and such, I haven't written in a while. A few weeks ago, the morning after my birthday party, I bombed around downtown, aimless and desperately haggard and ended up catching Margot at the Wedding, Noah Baumbach's follow-up to The Squid and the Whale. It's smart and daring and feels very much like the first effort after a breakthrough success. Baumbach gets away with scathing dialogue, repellent characters and a dramatically shapeless narrative structure. Some would note these traits with derision, but they really are what makes the film great and different than so many current American films.
The film follows the uncomfortable domestic clash between a successful writer (Nicole Kidman) and her approval-seeking sister (Jennifer Jason Leigh). It's full of incidents (a wedding tent collapses, neighbors squabble, marriages collapse), but nothing really happens. Baumbach deftly plumbs the love-hate relationship between siblings, allowing the film to breath and move at its own pace. It's a refreshing, naturalistic take, and Baumbach writes dialogue better than anyone today ("Maybe I'll move to Williamsburg? People are moving their, right?" Pauline asks. Margot replies, "Pauline, it's for young people.")
The weak link is Kidman, who can't help but be terribly mannered. Baumbach's jilted camera work, use of close-ups and jumpy editing call for a stripped-down acting style. I imagine Laura Linney in the role, not only because Margot closely resembles the character Linney played in Squid, but because she is so natural and unpretentious.
Leigh does raw emotion better than most actresses, and here she turns Pauline into a messy ball of unstable vulnerability. It's killer work from one of our best (have you seen Georgia?).

No Country for Old Men, the new Coen Brothers movie, has been getting more buzz than any movie this fall (reference my previous post about trying to catch a sold out late night show). I finally caught it, and must say that while technically flawless with an intriguing aesthetic, it's just a solid thriller that falters when it tries to become something more in the third act.
When a West Texas good ole boy (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon a stash of drug money when hunting in the desert, his life changes forever. He makes off with the cash, leaving his trailer trash wife (Kelly MacDonald) behind. Soon, a vengeful gun for hire (Javier Bardem in a towering performance) and a wise old sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones) are on his trail. There are a few masterfully edited chase sequences, and the performances are terrific, but the Coens make an odd decision with the climax. Perspectives shift, a great deal of action occurs off screen, and the wise old cop waxes philosophical. Sure, it's fine, but I like my thrillers to end in a bloodbath.
Brolin, who has always been a bit of a cheeseball, channels Rock Hudson and other 50s idols with his broad chin and beefy stature. He carries the film well, and will hopefully continue to progress. The film will be remembered for Bardem's gleefully sardonic work. It's chilly, frightful, and one of the most memorable villainous turns in recent memory.

And, finally, I caught Todd Haynes' much-talked-about Bob Dylan biopic I'm Not There over the Thanksgiving holiday. I've always had a crush on Todd Haynes. Because of the flesh-eating disease in Poison, because of the title sequence in Safe, because of the music videos in Velvet Goldmine, because of Far From Heaven in its entirety, because he went to Brown, because he's outspoken, because he was on the forefront of the queer cinema movement, and because he's the most academic filmmaker working in the mainstream today. Basically, he's my intellectual crush and I would totally blush in his presence.
I'm Not There is a bit of a disappointment, an overly ambitious, hyper-fragmented dissection of both Dylan and the artifice of celebrity. By now we all know that six actors portray Dylan-esque figures at different points in his evolution as an artist and idol. Yep, they're a few stunts (a black kid, a woman, Richard Gere). The whole thing doesn't coalesce, and feels a bit like the cinematic equivalent of a fallen souffle.
It's a bit of a shame given my love for Haynes, and the grand black-and-white segments with Cate Blanchett as the Blonde on Blonde-era Dylan. These bits have the absurdity and grandeur of a Fellini film, and are as visually exciting and alive as anything put on film recently. It goes without saying that Blanchett is the best working today, and here she gives us the performance of her career. Mimicry is so in right now with actors (Jamie Foxx, Reese Witherspoon, everyone's doing it), but this transcends the game. She strikes closer to Dylan than the rest, it feels like a real character, and you forget who you're watching. My jaw totally dropped.