The results of it can be seen in the recent slaughtering of Speed Racer by the likes of a majority vote at Rotten Tomatoes (and many others aside), while the start of it, I think, can be seen in the kind of slandering going on right now at The House Next Door as regards the recently announced remake of Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant, directed by Werner Herzog (!) and starring Nicholas Cage (!$%@). I assure you, I mean no bad word against anyone posting or commenting over at the mega-movie blog - only that this is a trend I see repeated time and time again by critics and moviegoers, ones both pleasant and vulgar in their nature.
This is a simple pitfall but its devastation is one muted in its effects, as we tend to mistake it for legitimate thought, uncritical of our own mental processes. More often than even we are able to realize, I think, we judge our movies before we see them, this being a practice we perpetuate even when we're not in the theater: we expect things in life because we're told they're meant to be, we expect rewards because they're promised to us. It's a small line between ignorance and awareness, a subtle piece of exertion to ensure we're always thinking, questioning, judging, and soaking up all the pleasures of the world, as the great philosophers tell us to do. Simple stuff, really, all the more amazing how we manage to fuck it up so often without reason.
And so we continue leaning on our crutches as we sit down in the middle of the auditorium about twice as far back from the screen as the screen is tall (that's how I do it, anyway). Having been immersed in the hype and chat and talk and predictions about X movie before sitting down, you're now there for one of two reasons: to confirm what you're already sure of, or be (a) surprised that they actually pulled it off or (b) shocked at by how far they missed the mark (the nature of the mark decided by the viewer often regardless of the movie itself). Think of recent films with big followings anticipating their arrival. The Star Wars prequels and Matrix sequels saw mostly venom, the unforgiving kind like in the Alien films (speaking of bad sequels...), eating away at the ship, damaging the infrastructure. Lord of the Rings soared, ditto Iron Man. Many fans think Spider-Man 2 the greatest superhero movie ever made, whereas part three, in failing to match its predecessor, was the worst (I think the film would have been poorly received regardless, but it seems common for a downgrade to catch more sting than initial mediocrity). And poor Hulk, which boldly (if imperfectly) defied not only comic book conventions but narrative form altogether, and has been paying for it in the form of snide commentary ever since (more soon on Ang Lee's angry green giant).
Surely, there are exceptions: response to Superman Returns was positively mixed and some, like Batman Begins, inspire genuinely divided groups of thought. Nevertheless, whether in groups or solo, we seem to respond to movies largely without range or depth: it's great or it sucks (even the zero-to-four span of traditional star ratings isn't wide enough to encompass the full bandwidth of aesthetic and entertainment worth), and the respective holders of said attitudes often go at each other's necks in hopes of declaring their opinion the one true path (and it isn't just typically derided fanboys; don't forget the recent feuding between fans of Julie Christie and Marion Cotillard over their respective and almost-equally excellent Best Actress-nominated performances, or virtually every review written by Armond White over the past few years). A good movie can have bad parts, and a bad movie can have good parts, in as many ways and combinations as is possible. One of the flaws of much criticism that I've attempted to free myself from is the notion that the bad parts of a film must somehow cancel out the good ones, somehow by necessity. Cinema isn't about perfection, but the co-existence of imperfections (thus reflecting both maker and consumer). There are many a staples I've yet to see, but this is one of the virtues of the art form that drew me to it in the first place. No surprise, then, that the critics I'm drawn to are those who relish in these messy details and encourage similar engagement, even if it yields varying viewpoints.
This is a simple pitfall but its devastation is one muted in its effects, as we tend to mistake it for legitimate thought, uncritical of our own mental processes. More often than even we are able to realize, I think, we judge our movies before we see them, this being a practice we perpetuate even when we're not in the theater: we expect things in life because we're told they're meant to be, we expect rewards because they're promised to us. It's a small line between ignorance and awareness, a subtle piece of exertion to ensure we're always thinking, questioning, judging, and soaking up all the pleasures of the world, as the great philosophers tell us to do. Simple stuff, really, all the more amazing how we manage to fuck it up so often without reason.
And so we continue leaning on our crutches as we sit down in the middle of the auditorium about twice as far back from the screen as the screen is tall (that's how I do it, anyway). Having been immersed in the hype and chat and talk and predictions about X movie before sitting down, you're now there for one of two reasons: to confirm what you're already sure of, or be (a) surprised that they actually pulled it off or (b) shocked at by how far they missed the mark (the nature of the mark decided by the viewer often regardless of the movie itself). Think of recent films with big followings anticipating their arrival. The Star Wars prequels and Matrix sequels saw mostly venom, the unforgiving kind like in the Alien films (speaking of bad sequels...), eating away at the ship, damaging the infrastructure. Lord of the Rings soared, ditto Iron Man. Many fans think Spider-Man 2 the greatest superhero movie ever made, whereas part three, in failing to match its predecessor, was the worst (I think the film would have been poorly received regardless, but it seems common for a downgrade to catch more sting than initial mediocrity). And poor Hulk, which boldly (if imperfectly) defied not only comic book conventions but narrative form altogether, and has been paying for it in the form of snide commentary ever since (more soon on Ang Lee's angry green giant).Surely, there are exceptions: response to Superman Returns was positively mixed and some, like Batman Begins, inspire genuinely divided groups of thought. Nevertheless, whether in groups or solo, we seem to respond to movies largely without range or depth: it's great or it sucks (even the zero-to-four span of traditional star ratings isn't wide enough to encompass the full bandwidth of aesthetic and entertainment worth), and the respective holders of said attitudes often go at each other's necks in hopes of declaring their opinion the one true path (and it isn't just typically derided fanboys; don't forget the recent feuding between fans of Julie Christie and Marion Cotillard over their respective and almost-equally excellent Best Actress-nominated performances, or virtually every review written by Armond White over the past few years). A good movie can have bad parts, and a bad movie can have good parts, in as many ways and combinations as is possible. One of the flaws of much criticism that I've attempted to free myself from is the notion that the bad parts of a film must somehow cancel out the good ones, somehow by necessity. Cinema isn't about perfection, but the co-existence of imperfections (thus reflecting both maker and consumer). There are many a staples I've yet to see, but this is one of the virtues of the art form that drew me to it in the first place. No surprise, then, that the critics I'm drawn to are those who relish in these messy details and encourage similar engagement, even if it yields varying viewpoints.
Looking at Speed Racer, then, I see another accomplished, if unconventional and challenging work being torn to shreds mostly for not being whatever people think it should have been to begin with. Dennis Cozzalio helped to light the fuse of my thoughts with his mega-article on the Wachowski's latest critical slaying. Perusing the many vindictive adjectives being lobbed at the anime adaptation, he notes (quite accurately, in my experience), that the majority of the reviews seem purely reactionary/pre-meditated, such as how Los Angeles Times reporter Carina Chocano "comes at the movie from the perspective I think many reviewers did, one not lacking in preconceived notions but instead waiting to confirm the received wisdom about the movie built on poor reactions to the trailer and other specious, Internet-generated buzz." Whether inhabited by movie hounds or the public at large, the Web - seeping into every aspect of our lives, already something of a chord-less Matrix (do I smell a Cronenberg movie?) - seems a ripe place for popular opinion to fester, spawn, and consume, a fascist presence that finds sustenance in its own existence. I can hardly glance at those message boards without feeling the death of free thought, and as someone who hates The Usual Suspects and The Shawshank Redemption but loves The Blair Witch Project and War of the Worlds, it's particularly tough going. It's message boarding as World of Warcraft, without the option of declining a fight.
And so it is in the haranguing of Cage/Herzog that I sense another potential case of undeserved, advance pigeonholing. Though I completely understand the generally WTF nature of the project, a few moments thought led me to realize that this is exactly the kind of out-of-the-way scenario that Herzog has been finding and turning into amazing films ever since he picked up a camera. Several of my colleagues and friends hold less than glowing opinions of his work, some of it described as exploitative or racist, other times simplistic and/or outright boring (nevertheless, the derisive name Rescue Yawn is an unforgivable attempt at wit that should result in a temporary loss of speaking privileges). I've heard/read the arguments and they're perfectly fine even though I disagree almost completely: I can only hope time and an increased vernacular helps me to catch these demons running through my head, but let it be clear that something about Herzog's camera is at once entrancing and revealing. I can watch a film he's made and know that something greater exists (some would call it God).
Stanley Kubrick has the distinction of being my favorite director (the man could have made Bad Boys II and it would still not upset the immaculate perfection of 2001; mid-keystroke thought - a Stanley Kubrick-directed Bad Boys sequel? If only...), but Herzog has made masterpieces more consistently than any other filmmaker I am yet familiar with. My first introduction was with his remake of Nosferatu, a film that is still among my favorite horror films and strikes me as one of the penultimate examples of a worthwhile remake. I know I'd hit the roof if, for example, remakes of 2001 or Dr. Strangelove were announced; I can only hope I'd have the state of mind to give them their due chance, as remaking something - i.e., imitation - is more often a form of flattery than derision. Cronenberg's The Fly made a masterpiece out of the kernel of an enjoyable sci-fi excursion, while the presence of many remakes eludes us simply because they don't profess their recycled ideas so loudly (The Departed, William Wyler's Ben-Hur, even James Whale's Frankenstein was the third version of that story to be told on celluloid). Reviewing based on pedigree isn't criticism, it's a marketing assessment. Let's get back to our posts, shall we?
Fitzcarraldo saw an actual ship towed over a mountain versus the sane alternative of doing such a feat with special effects, and it is this bug-eyed boldness that has kept Herzog's track record to be one of the most memorable and successful in cinematic history. From real-life documentaries about a man obsessed with bears (Grizzly Man) to the death of a researcher in the jungle (The White Diamond), to imaged realities involving alien planets and space travel constructed entirely from stock footage (the undervalued Wild Blue Yonder), his is a cinema that stretches and tears at the fabric of the image, as warm and inviting as it is earthy and repulsive. I'll be damned if I didn't feel separated from my very body after I saw Aguirre: The Wrath of God for the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fourth and fifth).
And so, you can see, the very idea of Herzog remaking a somewhat-highly regarded masterwork from a completely non-mainstream director with the very mainstream star of the National Treasure films in the title role makes perfect sense, because it doesn't make any sense at all. Maybe it'll be crap; who can tell, before it unrolls on opening night? We can assume all we want, but we can never know for sure, and any bit of information taken out of context should be discarded from the record. How can we be expected to be fair and balanced citizens whilst on jury duty when we can't even give a movie its due chance in the spotlight? Commit, or don't commit. Or, as the Aqua Teens say, "You came here, watch it." (just forget that part about running over your offspring in the parking lot after the show). I, for one, am excited to see Nicholas Cage weeping in the nude doing God knows what kind of drugs. Just keep away the bees, the bears, and the bikes that need stepping away from.
More on that later, I suppose, assuming the aforementioned Internet outcry doesn't distinguish the project before it even gets off the ground. Now it's about me, and I do apologize for the narcissism. I've made a conscious decision to stop trying to box in my thoughts and ideas when it comes to this space, as I've learned - if nothing else - that my writing style is one best done completely spontaneous, ridden to tangents and cul-de-sacs. I admit, this can often be totally disorienting, and often have to edit my ideas into more coherent forms. The flow, however, always begins from the spark of thought, and every review that I've attempted to structure or plan out has always proven one unsatisfying in retrospect (Youth Without Youth almost came down an hour after it was up, but I resisted the urge).
I do enjoy stand-alone reviews, for sure, but think that the attempts at categorizing and labeling everything have totally impeded the mental and creative processes that need wide-open room to work effective. Surely, specific pieces can be made and planned out, but that requires a different kind of thought than stripping down stream-of-consciousness into an unsuitable package. Best to build the house with the occupants in mind, and it is in this way that I think this blog will become a more explicit effort to keep a diary, albeit one containing the occasional review, dvd coverage, or concentrated topic of interest. Maybe I'll rate things with stars, maybe letters. Fuck the format, and let content rule. Without it, I am nothing (damned beasts are we, mostly unto ourselves).
And so it is in the haranguing of Cage/Herzog that I sense another potential case of undeserved, advance pigeonholing. Though I completely understand the generally WTF nature of the project, a few moments thought led me to realize that this is exactly the kind of out-of-the-way scenario that Herzog has been finding and turning into amazing films ever since he picked up a camera. Several of my colleagues and friends hold less than glowing opinions of his work, some of it described as exploitative or racist, other times simplistic and/or outright boring (nevertheless, the derisive name Rescue Yawn is an unforgivable attempt at wit that should result in a temporary loss of speaking privileges). I've heard/read the arguments and they're perfectly fine even though I disagree almost completely: I can only hope time and an increased vernacular helps me to catch these demons running through my head, but let it be clear that something about Herzog's camera is at once entrancing and revealing. I can watch a film he's made and know that something greater exists (some would call it God).
Stanley Kubrick has the distinction of being my favorite director (the man could have made Bad Boys II and it would still not upset the immaculate perfection of 2001; mid-keystroke thought - a Stanley Kubrick-directed Bad Boys sequel? If only...), but Herzog has made masterpieces more consistently than any other filmmaker I am yet familiar with. My first introduction was with his remake of Nosferatu, a film that is still among my favorite horror films and strikes me as one of the penultimate examples of a worthwhile remake. I know I'd hit the roof if, for example, remakes of 2001 or Dr. Strangelove were announced; I can only hope I'd have the state of mind to give them their due chance, as remaking something - i.e., imitation - is more often a form of flattery than derision. Cronenberg's The Fly made a masterpiece out of the kernel of an enjoyable sci-fi excursion, while the presence of many remakes eludes us simply because they don't profess their recycled ideas so loudly (The Departed, William Wyler's Ben-Hur, even James Whale's Frankenstein was the third version of that story to be told on celluloid). Reviewing based on pedigree isn't criticism, it's a marketing assessment. Let's get back to our posts, shall we?Fitzcarraldo saw an actual ship towed over a mountain versus the sane alternative of doing such a feat with special effects, and it is this bug-eyed boldness that has kept Herzog's track record to be one of the most memorable and successful in cinematic history. From real-life documentaries about a man obsessed with bears (Grizzly Man) to the death of a researcher in the jungle (The White Diamond), to imaged realities involving alien planets and space travel constructed entirely from stock footage (the undervalued Wild Blue Yonder), his is a cinema that stretches and tears at the fabric of the image, as warm and inviting as it is earthy and repulsive. I'll be damned if I didn't feel separated from my very body after I saw Aguirre: The Wrath of God for the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fourth and fifth).
And so, you can see, the very idea of Herzog remaking a somewhat-highly regarded masterwork from a completely non-mainstream director with the very mainstream star of the National Treasure films in the title role makes perfect sense, because it doesn't make any sense at all. Maybe it'll be crap; who can tell, before it unrolls on opening night? We can assume all we want, but we can never know for sure, and any bit of information taken out of context should be discarded from the record. How can we be expected to be fair and balanced citizens whilst on jury duty when we can't even give a movie its due chance in the spotlight? Commit, or don't commit. Or, as the Aqua Teens say, "You came here, watch it." (just forget that part about running over your offspring in the parking lot after the show). I, for one, am excited to see Nicholas Cage weeping in the nude doing God knows what kind of drugs. Just keep away the bees, the bears, and the bikes that need stepping away from.More on that later, I suppose, assuming the aforementioned Internet outcry doesn't distinguish the project before it even gets off the ground. Now it's about me, and I do apologize for the narcissism. I've made a conscious decision to stop trying to box in my thoughts and ideas when it comes to this space, as I've learned - if nothing else - that my writing style is one best done completely spontaneous, ridden to tangents and cul-de-sacs. I admit, this can often be totally disorienting, and often have to edit my ideas into more coherent forms. The flow, however, always begins from the spark of thought, and every review that I've attempted to structure or plan out has always proven one unsatisfying in retrospect (Youth Without Youth almost came down an hour after it was up, but I resisted the urge).
I do enjoy stand-alone reviews, for sure, but think that the attempts at categorizing and labeling everything have totally impeded the mental and creative processes that need wide-open room to work effective. Surely, specific pieces can be made and planned out, but that requires a different kind of thought than stripping down stream-of-consciousness into an unsuitable package. Best to build the house with the occupants in mind, and it is in this way that I think this blog will become a more explicit effort to keep a diary, albeit one containing the occasional review, dvd coverage, or concentrated topic of interest. Maybe I'll rate things with stars, maybe letters. Fuck the format, and let content rule. Without it, I am nothing (damned beasts are we, mostly unto ourselves).
Coming around to Speed Racer again, let me profess my growing appreciation of this kid-in-the-candy-store movie, as it is also "movie of the year for me so far," as was stated by Dennis Cozzalio at the end of his article. Funny how my article, designed to be a purely textual piece, ended up with a "B" rating posted with the title, upgraded from the original "B-" my admittedly jaded mind initially assigned it. Now I'm thinking B+, or maybe A-. Hell, in it's own way, the movie is perfect (no Nashville or Chinatown, mind you, but a completely undistilled vision of someone's ideas about the world; that, for me, is what makes a great film). I'm already itching to see it again, especially in theaters. According to Stephanie Zacharek, that means I have irredeemably low standards. I'd like to think that she'd take that statement back should we ever talk over lunch and coffee.
Something I failed to mention in my appreciation of Speed Racer is the manner in which the film invents its own cinematic rules. In its own way, it seems to come from something totally alien to our sensibilities, as if the groundwork laid by Griffith, Eisenstein and Welles were giving way to a wholly different philosophy of style and content (and let's face it: filmmaking styles, like religions, are something in desperate need of increased diversity). I hope to detail my unconditional love for the visual design of Hulk in a future publication, and in some of the same ways to I enjoy the vertical wipes, turbulent camera movements and unabashedly synthetic compositions of Speed Racer. In terms of adding to the vocabulary of cinema, the Wachowski's may have already given us the 2008 Film of the Year, a possibility that only time will tell. It's certainly one for the ages.
On a final note, today I discovered just how joyous the unlikely Internet phenomenon I Can Has Cheezburger? actually is. This is my favorite so far.
Something I failed to mention in my appreciation of Speed Racer is the manner in which the film invents its own cinematic rules. In its own way, it seems to come from something totally alien to our sensibilities, as if the groundwork laid by Griffith, Eisenstein and Welles were giving way to a wholly different philosophy of style and content (and let's face it: filmmaking styles, like religions, are something in desperate need of increased diversity). I hope to detail my unconditional love for the visual design of Hulk in a future publication, and in some of the same ways to I enjoy the vertical wipes, turbulent camera movements and unabashedly synthetic compositions of Speed Racer. In terms of adding to the vocabulary of cinema, the Wachowski's may have already given us the 2008 Film of the Year, a possibility that only time will tell. It's certainly one for the ages.
On a final note, today I discovered just how joyous the unlikely Internet phenomenon I Can Has Cheezburger? actually is. This is my favorite so far.
8 comments:
While at one point you confuse Kubrick with Herzog, I think this is a great post, but I must say that in the past, you haven't really practiced what you are preaching right now. You have frequently blown small imperfections out of proportion and written negative reviews of amazing pieces of cinema. This post is honorable, but on first read, it doesn't seem that you are taking responsibility of your own tendencies as a film critic.
As far as Speed Racer is concerned I gave it a C. It is the Wachowskis's worst film by a very small margin (Reloaded is their second-worst, and that is because for all its technical prowess and defiance of cinematic rules, it is filled to the brink with bad acting, bad drama, and shallow dialogue that made me think that the way Keanu came-off in The Matrix wasn't really his fault. Notice that these things are not the minute imperfections you refer to in your post, but they are some of the essential properties a filmmaker needs to look into getting right, especially when given a budget as big as Speed Racer had.
HULK, Spider-Man 3, War of the Worlds and all the other films you talk about in your post as ones that were treated unfairly are examples in which the filmmakers do get the main things right and on them I completely agree with you.
If it sounds like I am being too critical of your post, it is probably correct. This post is refreshing and I think film critics need to read it and take note. The way you would have really won my heart with it is if you mentioned some of the works of the most under appreciated filmmaker of our time - M. Night Shyamalan.
Great read. This is the reason that the traditional news paper movie critic is going into extinction, there's so much more to a movie than "is it good or bad?" As for Speed Racer, why is any critic surprised by its execution? Is there already a golden standard for PG family films coming from the minds of guys who got divorced solely so they could become the official slave of their dominatrix? Not that Speed is some Oscar heavy, but I feel your frustration with critics that yak on and on about their expectations and little about the film (Jeff Wells*cough*cough*... one of the worst offenders, easily).
Great post buddy! Anyway, I must confess, my curiosity in Speed Racer may get the better of me (though I may have to hurry up to actually see the damn thing). Not because of the movie itself, but it has stirred up some fascinating discussion about the medium in general. First I read Armond White's and Jim Emerson's respective pans of the movie, and that was enough for me to write it off. Then I read the piece at Sergio Leone, then Glenn Kenny (and you, of course) and there seems to be a fascinating examination of exactly what it is movies are arising from what I had written off as a bizarre piece of fluff. And your impassioned defense here makes the case that much stronger. Though it's still not something I'm sufficiently excited about to do backflips over.
P.S. Why do I have to post a comment as my screenname?
stefan: Funny you mentioned my not mentioning Shyamalan - I think you hit on an example I was searching for and ultimately wrote around (I . But let me state clearly that, though I try to speak more speculatively, virtually everything I write here I also mean in some way about myself. But let's be clear: opinions vary, and proportions may be bigger or smaller than a reviewer is able to convey without resorting to mathematical ratios. But I appreciate your scrutiny - makes me feel worthwhile - and hope we can possibly work together more in the future. Our taste is definitely different, and I appreciate being able to lock grids with someone almost as much as I agree solidly.
jeff: Especially because they aren't realizing it's their expectations at work rather than their minds.
Ryewalker: Glad to see I could help get you interested, if only just (don't worry, tis very understandable, but for the guys who loved Miami Vice...). Unfortunately, I made it such that only registered posters could comment (thanks for going out of your way, if you had to), having been tired of anonymous posters slinging dirt. I guess that's part of the business, no? (and they can make for funny hate mail response columns) The gates are open again, people.
Yes! Much better. Thank you for giving me my identity back. And, fear not, if I notice anyone flaming you I'll do my part. =D
Posts like this are the sort of thing that give me incentive (or at least desire) to restart my own blog.
Finally saw _Speed Racer_. Yes. More later, but, for now, I gotta say it's a fat kid and a monkey away from amazing.
Great article, once again connects to one of the ideas I've had in my mind for an article. Totally agree with the points you've made regarding the unfair lynching of certain movies (is there ever a fair lynching anyway?) and I would like to not that it also happens the other way around, which pisses me off even more. People love and praise certain films simply because the consensus thought is positive or simply because the film has an interesting, unusual aspect to it, without going into the depths of the film or taking the trouble to analyze & evaluate. No Country for Old Men is an example - it's a movie so rich of themes regarding chances, life and death, yet many people are drawn merely to the originality of the villain Anton Chigurh or the elements of thriller in the film. Same with A Clockwork Orange - how lovable of a film it is for those who love to brag about the violent films they have seen and to show those films to their friends. Examples are many.
When considerable amount of people joins to this current, it's most dangerous because then the ultimate answer to the question of "why people love this movie" changes. This leads the discussions on these films and commentary of those who are critical of them to futile dimensions (e.g. "I don't understand why people love this movie. An original villain is not enough for me")
A blog that I recently discovered named Screaming Blue Reviews calls itself an 'Online Journal of Dissent' and enthusiastically fights this phenomenon. Their definitive example (or at least the initial one) is There Will Be Blood and while I don't agree with their negative opinions about PT Anderson's film, their explanations are quite satisfactory. I think it's worth a peek.
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