A few weeks back, on the invitation of my good friend and fellow blogger Rik, I joined the movie discussion site Spout.com. Despite it's flaws it's an incredibly fun site. I've slowed down on my movie ratings, despite barely putting a dent in my overall film collection, but that's mainly because of the slowness of load time. I have, however, been having a good time exploring the different groups(although most of them don't interest me), meeting some like minded film aficionados, and posting my reviews in an area where the types of people I'm trying to reach will actually see them.
So far I've mainly imported older blogs from here, and a nifty 'link to a movie' option means that anyone searching for said movie will see my review, if they are so inclined. A few things have been written specifically for Spout, and then moved over here, but for the most part it's the other way around. The main exception would be the Spout Mavens reviews, the first of which I posted the other day. Spout Mavens is a group that sends out free screener DVDs in exchange for the reviews that will be written by group members. I expect most of these to be direct-to-video, festival favorites. Probably many of them will not interest me, but I welcome the chance to see movies I would probably not even be aware of.
What this means is that my focus on my 'internet presence' is shifting a bit. WorkingDeadProductions will continue to be my home base, so to speak, with everything I write going on here eventually, but Spout will be the main focus for awhile. A lot of my writings will either directly or indirectly be on, for, or maybe even about, that site. Check it out. If your reading this site, than Spout would probably be right for you.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Let The Church Say Amen
Before I start, I think it's only fair to you that I make something clear. In the interests of full disclosure, I must admit that I am aggressively not religious. It's not just that I don't go to church, it's that I'm inclined to treat most organized religion with a little wariness and disdain. It's not that I'm not spiritual; I have my own belief and faith, and have no problem with anyone else believing in whatever god they want, it's just that I don't exactly want to hear about it, and I think religion has done at least as much bad as good in our world. And so, with that in mind, you'd probably expect me to jump to an exasperated conclusion about the movie I pulled out of the mail the other day; a documentary about a small church in Washington D.C. You'd be wrong. I tell you this because it's going to be impossible to divorce myself from my beliefs while I review Let The Church Say Amen. As much as I try to clear the slate and watch it with an open mind, and as much as I try to think about this without judging it too harshly, my views are still going to come through. And I realize that most people would probably be more open to the messages in this film than I am.
Washington, D.C., the political heart of our nation, is a decaying, dangerous place. With one of the highest violent crime rates in the country, and a horrific class separation. On one end of the spectrum we have the wealthy politicians and lobbyists, and on the other end is everyone else, struggling not to drown beneath the poverty line. In the midst of this is the World Missions for Christ Church, on an inner-city street corner, in a tiny storefront, with a small but enthusiastic congregation. The members that the documentary follows are people with hard lives and hard luck. There's 'Brother C' who struggles to record a gospel record with himself and his 10 year old son on drums. David Surles who works at a homeless shelter and dreams of owning a house with a yard and a tree, and Darlene Duncan, a single mother with 8 children.
As interesting, nice, and decent as these people are, as noble as their quests may be, I don't think I'd actually like any of them. They belong to that segment of the church-going population that preaches on sidewalks and in subways, that rush up to cars at stoplights and preach into the open windows, and can't seem to put a sentence together without mentioning God or Jesus. These types of people, in person, make me deeply uncomfortable. But then, these are people who have gone through things I couldn't imagine, and faced with joining the homeless and drug addicts that crowd the streets, they have reached out and grasped onto one of the few places that will accept, embrace and encourage them; their church.
When Brother C's oldest son is stabbed to death during the course of this documentary, he begins to drive the streets of Washington, watching the men he holds responsible. Church before this tragic murder was a jubilant place, music and dancing, shouting and testifying, with everyone drenched in sweat. Following this event, World Missions for Christ Church became a twisted mirror version of itself. The shouting, testifying and music were there, but the tone was different. So overcome with their grief that they screamed, wailed, and fell to the floor in convulsions. It was a hard thing to watch.
Brother C finds no support from the police, who respond to his numerous requests for information with a rote 'we're still searching for the suspect, but we'll get him soon.' Indeed, he goes uncaught despite their claims to having a warrant for his arrest until the suspect turns himself in. Where I viewed this as proof of an uncaring police force, Brother C smiled and saw it as the killer giving in to the power of God. In this neighborhood, the citizens are all but ignored by the police and politicians. Darlene Duncan, single mother to 8 children, reacts to our uncaring health care system by going to nursing school and treating her children herself. All this despite having an education level below elementary school. Clearly these are better people than I.
Facing the rampant problems of homelessness, gangs and drugs, with a system that largely ignores these people, World Missions for Christ Church makes an aggressive front. Sponsoring 70 annual events such as food and clothing drives, and free health screenings, this is a group of people living in one of the worst places in our nation, who have banded together and chosen to believe and try to help those around them. That's something I can respect, even if I don't believe.
Had I written this review immediately upon watching the film, it probably would not have sounded quite so positive. But now, with reflection, I find that I wouldn't mind a follow up, to see what happened with Brother C's music career, or how Darlene Duncan is doing with nursing. The movie is a bit hard to watch at times, particularly if your of the mindset that I happen to be in. This isn't one of those crowd-pleasing, populist documentaries that make it to your multiplex, this is strictly for the PBS, NPR crowd. But if you make it through, you'll find that it's messages stick with you.
Washington, D.C., the political heart of our nation, is a decaying, dangerous place. With one of the highest violent crime rates in the country, and a horrific class separation. On one end of the spectrum we have the wealthy politicians and lobbyists, and on the other end is everyone else, struggling not to drown beneath the poverty line. In the midst of this is the World Missions for Christ Church, on an inner-city street corner, in a tiny storefront, with a small but enthusiastic congregation. The members that the documentary follows are people with hard lives and hard luck. There's 'Brother C' who struggles to record a gospel record with himself and his 10 year old son on drums. David Surles who works at a homeless shelter and dreams of owning a house with a yard and a tree, and Darlene Duncan, a single mother with 8 children.
As interesting, nice, and decent as these people are, as noble as their quests may be, I don't think I'd actually like any of them. They belong to that segment of the church-going population that preaches on sidewalks and in subways, that rush up to cars at stoplights and preach into the open windows, and can't seem to put a sentence together without mentioning God or Jesus. These types of people, in person, make me deeply uncomfortable. But then, these are people who have gone through things I couldn't imagine, and faced with joining the homeless and drug addicts that crowd the streets, they have reached out and grasped onto one of the few places that will accept, embrace and encourage them; their church.
When Brother C's oldest son is stabbed to death during the course of this documentary, he begins to drive the streets of Washington, watching the men he holds responsible. Church before this tragic murder was a jubilant place, music and dancing, shouting and testifying, with everyone drenched in sweat. Following this event, World Missions for Christ Church became a twisted mirror version of itself. The shouting, testifying and music were there, but the tone was different. So overcome with their grief that they screamed, wailed, and fell to the floor in convulsions. It was a hard thing to watch.
Brother C finds no support from the police, who respond to his numerous requests for information with a rote 'we're still searching for the suspect, but we'll get him soon.' Indeed, he goes uncaught despite their claims to having a warrant for his arrest until the suspect turns himself in. Where I viewed this as proof of an uncaring police force, Brother C smiled and saw it as the killer giving in to the power of God. In this neighborhood, the citizens are all but ignored by the police and politicians. Darlene Duncan, single mother to 8 children, reacts to our uncaring health care system by going to nursing school and treating her children herself. All this despite having an education level below elementary school. Clearly these are better people than I.
Facing the rampant problems of homelessness, gangs and drugs, with a system that largely ignores these people, World Missions for Christ Church makes an aggressive front. Sponsoring 70 annual events such as food and clothing drives, and free health screenings, this is a group of people living in one of the worst places in our nation, who have banded together and chosen to believe and try to help those around them. That's something I can respect, even if I don't believe.
Had I written this review immediately upon watching the film, it probably would not have sounded quite so positive. But now, with reflection, I find that I wouldn't mind a follow up, to see what happened with Brother C's music career, or how Darlene Duncan is doing with nursing. The movie is a bit hard to watch at times, particularly if your of the mindset that I happen to be in. This isn't one of those crowd-pleasing, populist documentaries that make it to your multiplex, this is strictly for the PBS, NPR crowd. But if you make it through, you'll find that it's messages stick with you.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
The Host
A few years back, in one of his earliest columns for Entertainment Weekly, Stephen King compared horror fans to drug addicts; forever chasing that next high, and finding it harder and harder to accomplish each time. This is a notion that I agree wholeheartedly with, and find it so perfectly phrased. Indeed, for me this has held distressingly true. I don't believe this means that the quality of horror movies has gone down; the ratio of good movies to crap movies seems to remain fairly stable, it's only what's popular that skews the results. It may be more fair to say that I've become just the teensiest bit jaded, and maybe I expect more, or different things from horror these days. I don't for one minute think I'm alone in this. The desire for new and more extreme thrills speaks to the current trend towards torture porn, and explains the still ongoing(although not AS popular) fad for Asian horror films.
It may be waning these days, but Asian cinema turned out to be a great boon for the long-suffering horror fan. Not all of the films were classics, but they were so different from what we were familiar with, they were filtered through such a radically different set of sensibilities and cultural mores that it was like a breath of fresh air. Certainly some of the hallmarks have become a bit tired(how many types of haunted technology can there be?), but there are still some great movies being made overseas. Lately my interests have been veering a little bit away from China & Japan, and I've been watching more Korean films. I won't make any sweeping generalities, but it should be noted that every Korean film I've seen so far suffers from the same flaws; a willingness to go against the film's own internal logic for at least one inexplicable, infuriating moment, and a tendency towards overwrought melodrama. Still, I do find myself enjoying the film, even if in the end I find it a lackluster affair. Because, in exchange for those momentary lapses in logic, we get sweeping camera movements and a generous helping of gorgeous classical music in the score. They(and keep in mind I am only speaking of the dozen or so films I've seen, not the entire Korean cinematic output) exude a sense of gothic class and impending dread that has been lost from most American horror movies with the tendency towards flashy, music video editing. So I usually just go with the flow and allow the films to sucker me in until the end comes and I find myself a little let down.
Certainly keeping at least one foot in the flawed territory mentioned above, Gwoemul(The Host) still managed to stir those long dormant feelings, and give me that good old horror rush that I've been missing. And actually, the flaws are relatively minor. The focus here is more on adventure and political satire than scares, but it has a big giant monster, so it's still a horror movie.
In the opening scene an American doctor orders his Korean subordinate to dump gallons upon gallons of formaldehyde into a drain that feeds into the Han river(based on a true event, although with an outcome nothing like this film). What follows is a small montage that led me to believe the movie would be a slow buildup to the eventual reveal of the monster which was, of course, mutated by the formaldehyde. Yes I know formaldehyde wouldn't cause a fish to mutate into a gigantic bloodthirsty monstrosity, and it is a tad cheesy, but it fits with the old-school, mad scientist, monster mash vibe through the film.
Of course, we're so used to seeing the monster hidden in shadows, both as a stylistic attempt to keep it frightening, and as a pretty easy way to keep the special effect's flaws from being too noticeable. So it was quite a shock to not only see the movie kick off with a bang, but that this scene would also be in bright daylight, with plenty of static camera shots to show off the big nasty monster rampaging through crowds of people enjoying a nice summer day at the riverbank. Normally I'm against CGI, and it almost always takes me out of the movie because it's so obvious, but in this movie I wont even give it a second thought. The CGI may not quite be Industrial Light and Magic, but it's still impressive, and the scenes with the beast are so well staged and shot that it would be childish to say 'yes, but the effects are cheesy'. Indeed, this scene was such a surprise, and so well done, that even on the third viewing I experienced the same thrill, like the moment just before the big dip in a roller coaster.
With such a crowd-pleaser of a start, it's not a surprise that most people tune out and find the rest of the film boring. It is two hours long, and the monster is absent from a great deal of it, but there's still a pretty solid story there, with some action and humor thrown in just as it starts to get too slow. The film focuses on the quest of one family to find their daughter(niece, granddaughter) who was taken by the monster and who they still believe to be alive. Standing in their way, aside from the aforementioned monster, is the Korean government, and eventually the US government, which intrudes upon matters and begins enforcing their own brand of marshal law.
Of course the film becomes a not-so-subtle critique of America's style of foreign policy; IE, stepping into the middle of a situation it doesn't fully understand and taking over completely.
I'll admit the movie drags a bit during these parts, and by the time the end comes it seems about 20 minutes too late, but it's these segments of the film that I seem to enjoy more each time I watch it. There's more than one political statement being made, with references to the Vietnam war, Agent Orange, SARS, bird flu, and more. Still, I think there might be one too many subplots(the homeless children in the sewer system slowed things down at a point where it didn't need to be slowed down any further), but it's never quite dull. And I do enjoy how each member of the family- slacker dad, kindly grandfather, disappointed revolutionary uncle, and Olympic level archer(think that'll be an important plot point?) aunt- all get their own section of the movie. As the movie goes on various members of the cast take on the hero role, in the end, of course, coming together to each take down the beast.
So all in all I really enjoyed this one, which was probably obvious as soon as I mentioned watching it three times, although I'd stop short of calling it a perfect film. On top of the lagging in the film at times, there's a twist at the end that turns the film into a sort of shaggy dog story(actually, two of them, but one of them I really enjoyed), and feels like a betrayal of the audience's confidence. Also, one of those pesky scenes with a total disregard for the films own logic in a brief shot towards the end that implies the beast is actually made up of a bunch of fish somehow melded together. I use selective continuity and block that one shot out, which is easy to do since it's only 2 seconds long.
In the opening scene an American doctor orders his Korean subordinate to dump gallons upon gallons of formaldehyde into a drain that feeds into the Han river(based on a true event, although with an outcome nothing like this film). What follows is a small montage that led me to believe the movie would be a slow buildup to the eventual reveal of the monster which was, of course, mutated by the formaldehyde. Yes I know formaldehyde wouldn't cause a fish to mutate into a gigantic bloodthirsty monstrosity, and it is a tad cheesy, but it fits with the old-school, mad scientist, monster mash vibe through the film.
Of course, we're so used to seeing the monster hidden in shadows, both as a stylistic attempt to keep it frightening, and as a pretty easy way to keep the special effect's flaws from being too noticeable. So it was quite a shock to not only see the movie kick off with a bang, but that this scene would also be in bright daylight, with plenty of static camera shots to show off the big nasty monster rampaging through crowds of people enjoying a nice summer day at the riverbank. Normally I'm against CGI, and it almost always takes me out of the movie because it's so obvious, but in this movie I wont even give it a second thought. The CGI may not quite be Industrial Light and Magic, but it's still impressive, and the scenes with the beast are so well staged and shot that it would be childish to say 'yes, but the effects are cheesy'. Indeed, this scene was such a surprise, and so well done, that even on the third viewing I experienced the same thrill, like the moment just before the big dip in a roller coaster.
With such a crowd-pleaser of a start, it's not a surprise that most people tune out and find the rest of the film boring. It is two hours long, and the monster is absent from a great deal of it, but there's still a pretty solid story there, with some action and humor thrown in just as it starts to get too slow. The film focuses on the quest of one family to find their daughter(niece, granddaughter) who was taken by the monster and who they still believe to be alive. Standing in their way, aside from the aforementioned monster, is the Korean government, and eventually the US government, which intrudes upon matters and begins enforcing their own brand of marshal law.
Of course the film becomes a not-so-subtle critique of America's style of foreign policy; IE, stepping into the middle of a situation it doesn't fully understand and taking over completely.
I'll admit the movie drags a bit during these parts, and by the time the end comes it seems about 20 minutes too late, but it's these segments of the film that I seem to enjoy more each time I watch it. There's more than one political statement being made, with references to the Vietnam war, Agent Orange, SARS, bird flu, and more. Still, I think there might be one too many subplots(the homeless children in the sewer system slowed things down at a point where it didn't need to be slowed down any further), but it's never quite dull. And I do enjoy how each member of the family- slacker dad, kindly grandfather, disappointed revolutionary uncle, and Olympic level archer(think that'll be an important plot point?) aunt- all get their own section of the movie. As the movie goes on various members of the cast take on the hero role, in the end, of course, coming together to each take down the beast.
So all in all I really enjoyed this one, which was probably obvious as soon as I mentioned watching it three times, although I'd stop short of calling it a perfect film. On top of the lagging in the film at times, there's a twist at the end that turns the film into a sort of shaggy dog story(actually, two of them, but one of them I really enjoyed), and feels like a betrayal of the audience's confidence. Also, one of those pesky scenes with a total disregard for the films own logic in a brief shot towards the end that implies the beast is actually made up of a bunch of fish somehow melded together. I use selective continuity and block that one shot out, which is easy to do since it's only 2 seconds long.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Most Influential Part 3: The Stuff
Last October, during my failed 31 Days of Horror project, I had a couple of posts under the heading of Most Influential. These movies were not ranked, and I did not mean to give these movies 'classic' status, I merely meant to catalogue a few of the movies that influenced me personally. And by influenced, I actually mean influenced the way I live. The examples I gave before had to do with bathrooms and closed shower curtains(The Shining), and garbage disposals(the Blob). Click on the titles of the movies if you want to go back and read what I wrote about them at the time. My post today continues that thread. Consider this another of the missing days from that Halloween exercise.
Now, it's time for a slightly embarrassing revelation. This is something that a few people know about, and my family and friends have probably figured out by now. I have such a distaste for creamy foods(yogurt, pudding, cream-of-anything soup, mayonnaise, most salad dressings...) that it borders on phobia. This is something that's bothered me for awhile, because I could never pinpoint the source of this aversion. Aside from the obvious distasteful bodily fluids comparison. And then, about 10 years ago, I stumbled upon The Stuff, and everything was answered.
The movie, in a nutshell, is about a new dessert product called The Stuff that becomes a national sensation. Facing declining sales, several Ice Cream moguls hire a corporate saboteur to find out the secret of The Stuff. The saboteur, along with a marketing executive, discovers that the delicious treat is actually a sentient organism harvested from below ground that controls and eventually devours the consumer from within.
Michael Moriarty plays David 'Mo' Rutherford, the saboteur, and his role in this film is only one step below his Q: The Winged Serpent role in terms of originality. His 'Mo' Rutherford has a lazy drawl and goofy grin, coming across at times like a morally corrupt Matlock. He plays this completely straight and deadpan, which, as much as I like the film itself, is the highpoint of this one. Moriarty is a criminally underrated actor, altering speech patterns and body language between roles to a degree the Orlando Blooms of the world haven't yet imagined attaining. Every time I watch this film I wonder why he hasn't gotten more work. Of course, he's no model, and the interviews I've seen with him would suggest to me that he's fairly hard-headed and maybe not the easiest to work with, so that might explain things a bit. He may not be the world's greatest actor, and he certainly can overdo it, but he's always entertaining and I always enjoy his performances.
Moriarty's deadpan is required for a film this scattered and cluttered. Larry Cohen as a filmmaker is notoriously slapdash, which I do not mean as an insult. In fact the charm in most of his movies comes from how much he tries to cram onto the screen. In The Stuff, alongside that main story, we have SNL's Garrett Morris as 'Chocolate Chip' Charlie who lost his business to 'Stuffie' family members, Danny Aiello as an ex-FDA employee at the mercy of his Stuff addicted dog, a young boy escaping his addicted family, and Paul Sorvino as a right wing militia leader who leads an attack on a Stuff factory and darkens the movie considerably with random racist outbursts. The downside to all of this is that the movie does seem a little hit and miss at times, veering wildly between story lines, with an ending that feels woefully rushed. The overall tone, however, remains consistent throughout the many stories, and as I mentioned Moriarty does a fairly good job of anchoring things. The best way to experience this one is to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Don't look too closely, and you'll find a movie that at the very least tries to engage you a bit more than the average b-grade horror film.
I have to admit I never saw this one as a child, but it had this strange, influential presence in my pre-adolescence years. I knew of the film from the many previews that adorned the opening of several New World Video movies back in the 80s, and an Amazing Stories episode that I was told referenced the film. Eventually the movie achieved this mythic status, becoming more horrifying in my mind than it actually turned out to be. See, this was back before I could stomach horror movies, and I was completely unaware that the movie was supposed to be funny. All I knew was that the trailer gave me the heebie jeebies, and I haven't been comfortable with yogurt since.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Download
The Download is, I think, going to be a regular feature on this site. Just how regular I can't say yet. It's going to be a quick note or two that I jot down, usually just a random thought that I don't feel like expanding into a full-on rant or post. And sometimes it'll just be a goofy, silly idea or two.
I've come to the conclusion that Paris Hilton's popularity has less to do with attraction(I mean, she's obviously not physically attractive, unless you count that whole 'totally attainable, could pick her up at some sleazy bar' vibe) than with making ourselves feel better. People have held her up for perusal as proof that celebrities are awful people. We want to believe that money corrupts, that wealth and fame lead to absolute soullessness. It's a great lie we lower middle class citizens tell ourselves and each other to make ourselves feel better with our lot in life. And it's a great lie the wealthy like to perpetuate because it frees them of guilt. They aren't profiting while others suffer, why, they're martyrs!
I know I sound bitter, but really I'm not. Everyone wishes they had more money, and I'm no different, but I am pretty happy with my station in life. What bothers me is the so called 'cult of celebrity'. Paying so much attention to what a vacuous little socialite brat, a truly horrid little person, does merely because she has lots of money.
I've come to the conclusion that Paris Hilton's popularity has less to do with attraction(I mean, she's obviously not physically attractive, unless you count that whole 'totally attainable, could pick her up at some sleazy bar' vibe) than with making ourselves feel better. People have held her up for perusal as proof that celebrities are awful people. We want to believe that money corrupts, that wealth and fame lead to absolute soullessness. It's a great lie we lower middle class citizens tell ourselves and each other to make ourselves feel better with our lot in life. And it's a great lie the wealthy like to perpetuate because it frees them of guilt. They aren't profiting while others suffer, why, they're martyrs!
I know I sound bitter, but really I'm not. Everyone wishes they had more money, and I'm no different, but I am pretty happy with my station in life. What bothers me is the so called 'cult of celebrity'. Paying so much attention to what a vacuous little socialite brat, a truly horrid little person, does merely because she has lots of money.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Adaptation
With the release of Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix, I am forced to listen to friends and co-workers and in some cases complete strangers bitch and moan. Indeed, even many reviews for the movie contain the same gripes, and that is that 'it was OK, but they shouldn't have left such-and-such out.' A more common complaint is the simpler, more direct 'it wasn't as good as the book.' This is unfortunate, because a perfectly fine movie is getting short shrift because of how well it stands up to a completely separate entity; the book. Time was when I would be right alongside these people, complaining about how the movie removed my favorite subplot, or didn't capture the essence of the characters as perfectly as I'd hoped. Nowadays I like to think I'm much more enlightened, and oddly enough I owe this all to the Harry Potter series.
I was a bit late on the Harry Potter bandwagon, and Azkaban was the first movie I saw after reading all the books. Strangely, instead of being upset by the (major) omissions from the book to film transition, the film showed me how you could cut out or alter quite a bit and still make a fantastic film. Azkaban is my favorite film in the series so far, and my reasoning, when I try to boil this down to it's essence, is this; The first films were fine, if you wanted to read the book without all those pesky words. The films kept in as many of the subplots as possible, as much of the minutiae that they could manage, but missed a lot of the heart. Prisoner of Azkaban removed as much of the peripheral stuff as possible, but hit the heart dead center.
To me one of the best examples of book to screen adaptation would have to be Silence of the Lambs. Silence of the Lambs should be required reading/viewing in any film class on the subject of adapted works. The movie excises just enough, and fleshes out peripheral characters in order to give voice to what in the novel was internal dialogue. This meant the film wasn't burdened by clumsy narration or even clumsier exposition, but still maintained much of the atmosphere, information and precision of the source material. I'd also give Hannibal honorable mention, and before you stop reading, hear me out. Hannibal was not a very good movie, but keep this in mind; the book was worse. In this case the source material gave them very little to work with, including an underlining psychological explanation for Lecter that's a bit too on-the-nose, and characters that inexplicably act against everything laid down in previous books(keep in mind this was Hannibal Lecter's third outing). The movie trimmed the noxious backstory, and altered the horrid ending, and was the better for it.
I guess the trick is to know what to cut, to be able to discern when the author is going off on an unsatisfactory tangent, or when it's just not necessary to include something. Take American Psycho, for example. Now, I won't say that Bret Easton Ellis is a bad writer, since I did enjoy the novel, in an odd way(and I haven't read anything else, so I can't really judge), but never was there a book more full of things I didn't want to read about. Whether describing sexual acts in a language Penthouse editors would probably blush at, or going on for page after page about where the main character buys his bottled water, the book seemed to urge you to put it down. The movie dropped most of this, and shortened what it did keep. Most likely out of necessity; as boring as it was to read about his choice of neck tie, it would probably not translate to film any better. However, in a true moment of genius, the screenwriter took Patrick Bateman's knack for spouting off about Huey Lewis or Whitney Houston albums and tied those in with the murders committed on screen. This kept the action going, while still hammering home how absolutely empty this man was; less a human being than a collection of appetites.
Of course, inventive editing of the source material is a tricky feat to accomplish. In the Ninth Gate the three screenwriters(including Roman Polanski himself) edited so much out of the book that the movie had almost no plot. The book had several story lines running simultaneously, and more than a few mcguffins. The film pared it down to only one story(and, oddly, not the main one) and removed most of the twists. This wouldn't have been so bad if the film had been any good(actually, I did enjoy it the first time around), but in this case the gap in quality between movie and book is so large that it's hard to ignore. One good thing came of this change; I saw the movie first, and when I read the book I was still surprised by the outcome. Or perhaps I was surprised because I expected the movie ending.
A few other honorable mentions would be Fight Club, which managed to be a rarity; the film that improved substantially on the source material. Mother Night, which accomplished the herculean task of adapting a Vonnegut novel and succeeding(it's perennially in my top 5, and to contrast, check out the horrid Breakfast of Champions film). It is almost a really great movie, despite being a made for TV mini-series. It could be argued that the mini-series is the best place for adaptations, since the expanded time allows for more of the side stories to be left in, and the nature of watching a movie over several days gives you that sense of familiarity and time spent with these characters that a 2 hour movie just can't. The first half of It is a perfect example of this, utilizing commercial breaks as dramatic punctuations, and a template with which to focus on each of the characters in turn. The second half is not quite so good, although it had a lot of stuff to try and fit into 2 hours, and Stephen King has problems with endings anyway. His novels always resolve themselves too neatly, in one notable case literally having the hand of god come down and stop the action.
In the end, we fans are always going to have the book, and if the movie-going audience is content with the often watered down version on the screen, that shouldn't affect us at all. Upset that Quidditch isn't in the Harry Potter movies anymore? Read the book.
I was a bit late on the Harry Potter bandwagon, and Azkaban was the first movie I saw after reading all the books. Strangely, instead of being upset by the (major) omissions from the book to film transition, the film showed me how you could cut out or alter quite a bit and still make a fantastic film. Azkaban is my favorite film in the series so far, and my reasoning, when I try to boil this down to it's essence, is this; The first films were fine, if you wanted to read the book without all those pesky words. The films kept in as many of the subplots as possible, as much of the minutiae that they could manage, but missed a lot of the heart. Prisoner of Azkaban removed as much of the peripheral stuff as possible, but hit the heart dead center.
To me one of the best examples of book to screen adaptation would have to be Silence of the Lambs. Silence of the Lambs should be required reading/viewing in any film class on the subject of adapted works. The movie excises just enough, and fleshes out peripheral characters in order to give voice to what in the novel was internal dialogue. This meant the film wasn't burdened by clumsy narration or even clumsier exposition, but still maintained much of the atmosphere, information and precision of the source material. I'd also give Hannibal honorable mention, and before you stop reading, hear me out. Hannibal was not a very good movie, but keep this in mind; the book was worse. In this case the source material gave them very little to work with, including an underlining psychological explanation for Lecter that's a bit too on-the-nose, and characters that inexplicably act against everything laid down in previous books(keep in mind this was Hannibal Lecter's third outing). The movie trimmed the noxious backstory, and altered the horrid ending, and was the better for it.
I guess the trick is to know what to cut, to be able to discern when the author is going off on an unsatisfactory tangent, or when it's just not necessary to include something. Take American Psycho, for example. Now, I won't say that Bret Easton Ellis is a bad writer, since I did enjoy the novel, in an odd way(and I haven't read anything else, so I can't really judge), but never was there a book more full of things I didn't want to read about. Whether describing sexual acts in a language Penthouse editors would probably blush at, or going on for page after page about where the main character buys his bottled water, the book seemed to urge you to put it down. The movie dropped most of this, and shortened what it did keep. Most likely out of necessity; as boring as it was to read about his choice of neck tie, it would probably not translate to film any better. However, in a true moment of genius, the screenwriter took Patrick Bateman's knack for spouting off about Huey Lewis or Whitney Houston albums and tied those in with the murders committed on screen. This kept the action going, while still hammering home how absolutely empty this man was; less a human being than a collection of appetites.
Of course, inventive editing of the source material is a tricky feat to accomplish. In the Ninth Gate the three screenwriters(including Roman Polanski himself) edited so much out of the book that the movie had almost no plot. The book had several story lines running simultaneously, and more than a few mcguffins. The film pared it down to only one story(and, oddly, not the main one) and removed most of the twists. This wouldn't have been so bad if the film had been any good(actually, I did enjoy it the first time around), but in this case the gap in quality between movie and book is so large that it's hard to ignore. One good thing came of this change; I saw the movie first, and when I read the book I was still surprised by the outcome. Or perhaps I was surprised because I expected the movie ending.
A few other honorable mentions would be Fight Club, which managed to be a rarity; the film that improved substantially on the source material. Mother Night, which accomplished the herculean task of adapting a Vonnegut novel and succeeding(it's perennially in my top 5, and to contrast, check out the horrid Breakfast of Champions film). It is almost a really great movie, despite being a made for TV mini-series. It could be argued that the mini-series is the best place for adaptations, since the expanded time allows for more of the side stories to be left in, and the nature of watching a movie over several days gives you that sense of familiarity and time spent with these characters that a 2 hour movie just can't. The first half of It is a perfect example of this, utilizing commercial breaks as dramatic punctuations, and a template with which to focus on each of the characters in turn. The second half is not quite so good, although it had a lot of stuff to try and fit into 2 hours, and Stephen King has problems with endings anyway. His novels always resolve themselves too neatly, in one notable case literally having the hand of god come down and stop the action.
In the end, we fans are always going to have the book, and if the movie-going audience is content with the often watered down version on the screen, that shouldn't affect us at all. Upset that Quidditch isn't in the Harry Potter movies anymore? Read the book.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Intermission
I have nothing incredibly important to say at the moment, but I need to write. I feel like a shark; I need to keep moving, because if I stop, I won't be starting up again anytime soon. Thing is, I've been awake for three days with a running total of, if I'm generous, 5 hours of sleep. Maybe 6 if you count all the 10-15 minute naps I've taken, but I'm not even sure if I was sleeping, I only know that I have no memory for those blocks of time, I just stood staring off into space, which is something no boss likes to see. Why would I do such a thing as stay awake for 3 days, you may ask? Well, my work schedule is late night/early morning, and the time I would normally spend sleeping has been taken up by community service as I squeeze as much in as possible to meet my quickly approaching deadline.
I'm actually feeling pretty damn good. There comes a time in sleep deprivation when you reach a point of exhaustion where your synapses are all firing at once, you're wired and in tune with everything and your making all the connections at light speed. Go past that and you enter a more normal period of exhaustion. Your eyes itch and your muscles ache. Go past that and you'll be where I am now. I feel like smooth, warm molasses. I'm not moving quickly, but I'm going at a pace that feels entirely comfortable and appropriate. Following gravity down the hill. This will probably wear off halfway through our broadcast this morning, because when this period is over, there's no prolonging it.
I could have slept last night(this night? whatever), but I went to see the new Harry Potter. I don't have much to say about it, so don't worry about any spoilers here. I enjoyed it, not quite as much as part three, but still quite a bit. At times it felt a bit perfunctory, like it had less a narrative and more a desire to hit the right buttons. Still, it was nowhere near as slavish as the first two. In the midst of this sleep deprived state I went to a midnight premiere where I surrounded myself with teens(and adults, to be fair) dressed out in their favorite house colors. A place where a random woman in a black cloak and white makeup rushes out of the crowd, thrusts her wand in my face, and commands I pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord lest I suffer the Cruciata(sp?) curse. I'm almost positive I didn't imagine that.
The reason I'm feeling fine, aside from the body-chemistry high I'm on, is because I am now finally done with community service. No more slaving away in some random park digging trenches and carrying 60lb bricks across the field. No more listening to Bill O'Reilly or Rush Limbaugh or whatever neo-con fuckwit the community service supervisors are listening to. It's all done with. When I leave work this morning, I will not be going to the CWS office. The sun will be up on the ride home, and I'll have a nice soft bed waiting for me. Pure heaven. I have much to be thankful for.
I'm actually feeling pretty damn good. There comes a time in sleep deprivation when you reach a point of exhaustion where your synapses are all firing at once, you're wired and in tune with everything and your making all the connections at light speed. Go past that and you enter a more normal period of exhaustion. Your eyes itch and your muscles ache. Go past that and you'll be where I am now. I feel like smooth, warm molasses. I'm not moving quickly, but I'm going at a pace that feels entirely comfortable and appropriate. Following gravity down the hill. This will probably wear off halfway through our broadcast this morning, because when this period is over, there's no prolonging it.
I could have slept last night(this night? whatever), but I went to see the new Harry Potter. I don't have much to say about it, so don't worry about any spoilers here. I enjoyed it, not quite as much as part three, but still quite a bit. At times it felt a bit perfunctory, like it had less a narrative and more a desire to hit the right buttons. Still, it was nowhere near as slavish as the first two. In the midst of this sleep deprived state I went to a midnight premiere where I surrounded myself with teens(and adults, to be fair) dressed out in their favorite house colors. A place where a random woman in a black cloak and white makeup rushes out of the crowd, thrusts her wand in my face, and commands I pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord lest I suffer the Cruciata(sp?) curse. I'm almost positive I didn't imagine that.
The reason I'm feeling fine, aside from the body-chemistry high I'm on, is because I am now finally done with community service. No more slaving away in some random park digging trenches and carrying 60lb bricks across the field. No more listening to Bill O'Reilly or Rush Limbaugh or whatever neo-con fuckwit the community service supervisors are listening to. It's all done with. When I leave work this morning, I will not be going to the CWS office. The sun will be up on the ride home, and I'll have a nice soft bed waiting for me. Pure heaven. I have much to be thankful for.
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