"Julia" - comments by Andy

I hate movies like "Julia." The acting is so well done that I'm forced to actually pay attention to the movie's plot. And I hate stories like "Julia."

I don't hate the story about falling-down alcoholic reaches rock bottom and has to make a change. I don't hate the story about slightly-psychotic mother trying to get her kid back. What I hate is incompetent criminality.

How do you lose a gun in the middle of the road? Julia was obviously an idiot, but that much? Why would you bring the other million with you for the hand-off? Who trusts an over-friendly local enough to sleep with him (and subsequently lose your bounty (the kid) while you are sleeping off a hang-over)? I thought for a moment I was going to like her when she blew Miguel away. After that she was a raging idiot, pure and simple. I almost don't even care that things work out for her and Tom.

Boy though, I'll bet that if Tilda Swinton hadn't won an Oscar the year before for "Michael Clayton," she might have been nominated for "Julia." Powerful stuff. I especially thought her portrayal of drunk Julia (pre-kidnapping) was top-notch. I could genuinely feel her hitting rock-bottom.

And I will say this about the film - several times during the film I caught myself making sure my little girl was still playing in her room. Of course, if needed (god forbid...), I hope that I would have the mental fortitude and skill-set to approach the situation less like Julia Harris, and more like Brian Mills (Liam Neeson) in "Taken."

A Jewel in Julia

by Jason Pyles

Note to Readers: Remember, because this is a film-discussion blog, we often discuss spoilers. My comments below are spoiler-ridden, so watch the film first.

Contrast Tilda Swinton’s performance in “Julia” with her role in “Michael Clayton” and you’ll see some opposite-end-of-the-spectrum range. Wow. (She played these roles back to back, near as I can tell from her filmography.)

I often resent the overused assessment that an actor’s performance is “brave,” but I have to resort to it in this instance. Recently I was reading a book about acting, and it criticized many female actors who only take the “pretty” roles, noting that such actresses miss out on rich opportunities. (Indeed, as I thought about it, Charlize Theron won an Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading role for her performance in “Monster,” a decidedly “unpretty” part.)

Swinton’s Julia character is also a scary train wreck. There’s a moment in the film where another crazy lady (the kid’s mom) goes berserk on Julia, and I thought I was about to see the Kraken versus Medusa. I was literally jittery while watching this brief confrontation. I bring up this scene to illustrate a specific example of Swinton’s nuanced performance: Initially Julia strikes the disturbed mom, but when said mom becomes the mayor of Crazy Town right before her eyes, Julia backs down and backs away carefully. A less intelligent performance would portray Julia as a full-throttle maniac — all the time, no matter what — but even Hannibal Lecter had his sensible moments.

At its core, “Julia” is a tale of redemption, which is quite a feat considering Julia has almost no redemptive qualities. I was impressed that the writers gave us some ironic surprises (such as the double, double-cross in Mexico) and other neat turn-arounds, avoided predictability and maintained a fair degree of realism. Let’s face it, we have no idea how this mess will end, and when it does end, our anti-hero protagonist’s life is still precarious. Yet the conclusion is satisfying. We can imagine how bleakly her life might proceed henceforth.

In summary, “Julia” is a fine example of both a character-driven performance and a smartly written story. I consider it an unusual film because its female protagonist is almost completely devoid of maternal instincts. And I suppose this is my one criticism of the film: Eventually Julia shows some humanity and starts to develop some affection toward the kid. This isn’t the Julia that I met at the beginning of the movie. And while a character’s arc should show some change, this particular character surely would have taken off altogether once she got the 2 million dollars.

"American Splendor"

Check it out - I finally figured out how to post under my own name. Well....Jason figured it out. I had to get a gmail account, which sucks because I have a really good hotmail address, and I'm afraid that gmail is going to take over the world. I really do like my gmail account name too, but it's far longer and will require more explanation than I want to give to everyone.

What does all that have to do with "American Splendor?" Nothing. Nothing at all. Of course, it parallels exactly what Harvey Pikar did in is comic novels - editorializing his own life for the enjoyment and consumption of other people. It's the precursor to blogs.

I think all of us are at least a little bit narcissistic enough to have thought about writing a book or making a movie out of our lives. I know that I have. I have dismissed such thoughts as being silly and arrogant, but after watching "American Splendor" I think maybe I was wrong. Surely my life is or has been as interesting as Harvey Pikar, right?

And that's what I took from the film. We all live interesting lives, even those of us who are quite boring and/or have few hobbies/interests, etc. The fact that your life maybe not full of drama or excitement does not necessarily mean it's not interesting to others. Admittedly, I have never read the comics "American Splendor," but based on what the film showed, Pikar's life was not all that exciting or special, yet it was interesting. Would my life be as intriguing if snippets were chronicled with pictures of me that make me look like an ogre? Who knows, but maybe.

Regarding American Splendor

by Jason Pyles

I came across the trailer for “American Splendor” at the beginning of another film. It immediately appealed to me because I thought it was going to be mostly set in a comic book store and amount to a cross between “Be Kind, Rewind” and the comic book store found in “Fanboys” (you know, the one where Kristen Bell’s character works?).

Neither of those two films was particularly good, but there is something enchanting to me — that I’ll never be able to put into words — about an environment where young, lonely people are making peanuts doing a job they like because they’re immersed in the art that they’re passionate about. I guess it’s that same feeling I get when I think of Tarantino working during his video store days, pre-“Reservoir Dogs” era.

Anyway, I thought “American Splendor” was going to be that kind of magical amalgam, but instead, it’s a less alienating, less metaphysical incarnation of “Synecdoche, New York” — to some similar extent. (That’s it, Andy. “Synecdoche, New York” keeps coming up on this site, so we’re probably going to have to discuss it at some point, although I consider it a very unpleasant experience, despite my deep respect for its genius screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman. Let me know when you’re feeling brave; we’ll endure it together, like we did “The Room.”)

In short, “American Splendor” is a self-aware biopic, of sorts. It knows it’s a movie, and it often breaks the fourth wall. Indeed, the capable cast that uncannily portrays the real-life people is sometimes accompanied by the real-life individuals themselves, which is a wonderfully unusual touch in a biography.

I had a couple of questions: How did Paul Giamatti pull off that squeaky voice? Wow. Did he have to lose his voice somehow, in order to sound like that, or is he just “acting”?

And my next question was answered with a little research. I wondered if that final showdown with David Letterman ever actually aired on TV, because it wasn’t shown in the movie. Well, according to the IMDb.com’s trivia page, “NBC would not lease out the actual 'Late Night With David Letterman' footage where Pekar finally lashed out at Letterman, so the scene had to be recreated with the actors.” However, I found out that NBC did, in fact, air it, and the footage of the actual interview can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0akXKxbflM&feature=related

It starts getting juicy about 7 minutes in.

(Oh, and most people probably know this, but Pekar’s comic-legend/illustrator friend, Robert Crumb, also had a movie made about him called “Crumb” (1994).)

I have never read any issues of “American Splendor,” but for the first hour of the film, I really wanted to. After that, I changed my mind. At first the film is funny and whimsical, something like Harvey himself, but just as it would be to hang around such a person for very long, in time, it loses its charm and his incessant negativity weighs down the film (and this viewer).

Overall, watching “American Splendor” is a good experience, and it just goes to show that anybody can become a celebrity.

"All the Little Animals," comments by Andy

I'm not exactly sure what to write about "All the Little Animals." Bizarre is the word that comes to mind. I agree with Jason's question - "Why would anyone make this movie?"

Being an animal lover myself, I too am saddened when I see animals dead in the road. I too think that automobiles are the most dangerous thing to animals. I felt terrible when I accidentally hit a rabbit, and I nearly cried when I took out a large owl during a road trip last Christmas. But a movie?

And that wasn't even the weirdest part for me. What was deal with the step-father killing Mr. Summers? That didn't make any sense. Why was he so enraged? Bobby was going to sign the papers, and although Bobby apparently had some "terms," we never even got to hear what the terms were. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to see him get his come-up-ins, but it still seemed very far-fetched to me.

Bale is very good though. Too bad about that little tirade of his - it'll probably cost him a well-deserved Oscar.

-thoughts by Andy

Debate: In Cold Celluloid

by Jason Pyles

Eds. Note: This article originally appeared on another blog on December 23, 2008. I recently asked Andy to take a look at it, and he responded on the post below this one.

Ever since the gangster pictures of the 1930s, there has been considerable debate about the portrayal of violence in film — is it exploitative? — or does it serve a meaningful purpose? It’s such an age-old controversy, many people are altogether weary of the discussion. But I have a different question, though it is related to this topic.

In 1967, Richard Brooks released a film called “In Cold Blood” that is an adaptation of Truman Capote’s novel by the same name. Both tell the grim but true tale of two zeros who planned to rob a Kansas farm family and slaughtered them all in the process. The phrase “senseless deaths” has never been more fitting.

(Interestingly, the film stars Robert Blake as one of the killers; you might remember that around 2002, Blake was arrested for the murder of his second wife but was later acquitted in 2005.)

Relative to the explicit and graphic nature of present-day movies, “In Cold Blood” is tame, perhaps even mild enough for a PG rating — minus the profanity.

But here’s the issue: The film is shot in the actual home of the murdered family. This begs an obvious moral question. What was the merit in shooting the film in their home? The reasons must have pertained to authenticity and perhaps because it’s somewhat intriguing, but are these reasons justified? I suspect that it had less to do with artistic motives and more to do with cashing in on a fascinated nation’s curiosity.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder if the same heinous event befell my family — heaven forbid — how would I feel if Hollywood wanted to tell the story within the walls of our sacred home, where the horrific acts occurred?

In his 1968 review of “In Cold Blood,” Roger Ebert wrote this:

“And every detail of the film, from the physical appearance of the actors to the use of actual locations like the Clutter farmhouse, was chosen to make the film a literal copy of those events. I do not object to this. Men have always learned about themselves by studying the things their fellows do. If mass murders of this sort are possible in American society (and many have been), then perhaps it is useful to see a thoughtful film about one of them.”

My Take:

I’ve heard this argument before, but I don’t buy it. I think it’s imperative for us to realize that monsters exist and such dangers are possible, but to me “In Cold Blood” crosses the line with its shooting location. When I watched “Breakdown” (1997), for example, I thought it a valuable cautionary tale, but it was fictitious; whereas, “In Cold Blood” unfortunately happened. (And regarding violence in film, most people think it’s fun to be scared. Fine. So fictitious horror is one thing, but when we watch the “Saw” movies for their “entertainment value?!,” I think that’s sociologically problematic.)

Please feel free to post comments and discuss this question.

[ Note: I might mention, as a mere afterthought, that we’re probably more familiar with the more recent Philip Seymour Hoffman film, “Capote” (2005), about the journalist and author who followed the story and conducted extensive interviews with one of the killers. ]

Debate Comments by Andy

Jason - I don't know if my comments are exactly responsive to yours, but here goes:

I've seen "Capote" but I've not seen "In Cold Blood." I've also seen lots and lots of documentaries and TV shows about murder, death, deceit, etc. I don't think I have a problem at all with using the actual scene of the crime in making the film, especially where "In Cold Blood" was meant to be as accurate as possible. To me, it is akin to what "Cold Case Files" and several other TV shows try to do when they make a show about someone getting murdered. Such shows almost always show as much actual footage as they can. The only difference between those TV shows and "In Cold Blood" is WHAT the show is trying to say. In the TV shows, the focus is usually on how the police ultimately solved the crime, and "In Cold Blood" seems more to be about the actual killing and how the crime was completely senseless.

So to me the question is, societally and individually, "Can I empathize with the victims?" That to me is what horrific violence is all about. It's why I was much closer to tears in "Law Abiding Citizen" when his family was killed in front of him than I was in "Rambo." The fact that both stories are completely fictional makes me be able to enjoy the films without really feeling bummed out, and conversely, it's why when I watch "Saving Private Ryan," and "Band of Brothers" why I am always a little sad, and it's why "Schindler's List" was so powerful and depressing.

And I think that's the point. When a film is made about actual tragic events, the point is to feel human. We are supposed to empathize with the hurt, loss, terror, etc. of the people depicted in the film. I believe that using the actual farmhouse is just one more way to let us in the story. It may be unnecessary to tell the story, but it does add to the reality of it, and ipso facto our feelings (as evidenced by the fact that you found it distasteful).

Violence in film is a tricky subject. On the one hand, showing actual violence takes us from saying "Oh that's a shame" to actually forming our own horror/sorrow/whatever to the events. And such feelings are difference between seeing something on the news and forgetting about it the next day, and remembering the story for a long time. But I also understand why most people wouldn't want to have those feelings, and why we actually crave non-sentimental violence in our movies.

That's what I think.
-comments by Andy