This past weekend, I went to see No Country for Old Men. I was amazed. It was a truly phenomenal movie, from the performances, to the harrowing mood that the stark, nearly toneless soundtrack that left me clutching the arms of my seat. There were speeches, oh my, there were speeches. The characters were all genuinely troubled, from the human flaws of Llewelyn Moss, to the hubris of Carson Wells, to the sheer inhumanity of Anton Chigurh. Chigurh walks out of Carla Jean's house after killing her and he does something simple, yet immensely disturbing -- he checks the bottoms of his shoes. He has just walked out of a house belonging to an innocent woman in the entire mess of the film. He has just shot her. The thing he thinks to do is check his shoes.
This film is an exemplification of the incredible number of issues we, as a society, face today. The people who succeed are those who are without mercy or moral. Those who oppose Chigurh only leave themselves a matter of time until they meet their end. Moss tries to fight Chigurh, and just doesn't have a real chance. The moment he declares his personal vendetta, the audience gets a slight boost of optimism, only to have their hopes shattered a few short scenes later. When we see that Moss is dead, we are left with the worry that there is nothing left to say. Cormac McCarthy and the Coen brothers disagreed. That could have easily been the end of a lesser film, but not here. We see the old school sheriff, played with unwavering brilliance by Tommy Lee Jones, give up. He retires without searching for Chigurh.
No one wins in this film. By the end of the film, there is no sign of the two million dollars that Moss found, and that Chigurh was trying to get. These men all tried to take the easy way out, except for Chigurh, and he is the most successful. Moss dies trying to keep the two million dollars he found. Tommy Jones takes the easy way and simply retires. Chigurh (the haunting Javier Bardem) is the only one in the film who manages to keep his word to himself.
That's the background. Now, here's my problem.
This is a groundbreaking film. It's visceral, filled with bleak humor, astoundingly shot and perfectly performed. The issue is, when we see Ed Tom Bell (Jones) giving his speech at the end, and Chigurh walking away with a boy's shirt slinging his badly broken arm, we are left with the image of Bell talking about his dreams. This is not an ending for public consumption. And that's what makes me ashamed of my society. There was more meaning in this last scene than there could have been in any other ending. It was beautiful, fierce, touching and horrifying all at once. It was how the movie HAD to end.
And yet, everyone around my friend and myself, sat there for a split second and stood quickly, shooting their mouths off about how stupid the ending was before they could process it for even a moment. Several people behind me started a chorus of "What the hell was that," and "I don't know, that ending was stupid."
No, in fact, it wasn't. It was the polar OPPOSITE of stupid. Life situations don't end in explosions or mad embraces. It's what happens after those extraordinary situations that is truly important. No Country for Old Men is a uniquely human film. And yet, the audience fails to see the intelligence in anything. My first film post in this blog was about the fall of the classic. This is why. This is the reason that people don't understand brilliant films. They are so caught up in the tropes of the action movie, the romantic comedy and rapid consumption society that they can't allow themselves to process ANYTHING intellectually. The Coen Brothers have made intelligent films for over 20 years, and they still have to relegate themselves to the indie-rock, coffeehouse crowd. They made an astonishing film that people aren't even considering for Oscar predictions, despite the outstanding performances, direction, editing, cinematography. Everything. It was wonderful. I'm just happy I understand it. I just don't know which to be more horrified by: the movie itself or the fact that about 2 percent of people who see it are going to get it. You tell me.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Moose and Squirrel
Leigh Steinberg is amazing. He talks with his clients -- gets them to work within their community, to give back to the cities that give his clients their jobs. All the while, he gets them the deals they deserve. He negotiates hard, and he represents his clients very well. I mean, there are some who say he was the inspiration for Jerry Maguire. For crying out loud, he was even named Man of the Year by the Los Angeles Boy Scouts. Let's make this paragraph shorter: Leigh Steinberg is not a bad guy.
Scott Boras is. His draft clients are viewed as poisonous. His other clients are seen as immovable, almost unsignable. You know you're in trouble when the richest franchise in all of sports, the New York Yankees, says they don't want to deal with you, and indicates to YOUR client that it would be much easier if you were not involved with the negotiations. He's become a pariah, fallen victim to the ostracon. He is joining the leper colony. I'll stop with all that now.
His problem? He's not really looking out for anyone. He's looking out for his own bottom line. Not only that, but he's doing it while giving the impression that he's looking out for his clients. Sure, he's getting them more money, but at what cost? Boras is the reason that smaller market teams are fading. Because of him, his clients keep upping the market value of marquee free agents, making it harder for small teams to sign star players, making them fill their rosters with the cream of either yesterday's crop or today's trash heap. Even then, teams like the Royals end up paying 55 million dollars over five years for an injury prone pitcher with a career 4.65 ERA (Gil Meche). Sure, it worked out okay, but how many more years like that can Meche put up? How the hell, please tell me, did Boras get JD Drew (JD DREW!) a 70 million dollar contract for five years? He had one stellar season (2004 Atlanta) and two decent seasons (2001 and 2006) -- only played two full seasons in his entire career and was already 31 years old. Why not just pay 2 million more a year and nab Carlos Lee (thanks again Scott)? Three more for Alfonso Soriano?
I'm sorry for the rant, but I find it difficult to live in a world where JD Drew, who doesn't play if he has a hangnail, is making 14 million dollars a year. That's 200K less than Albert Pujols. That's 27 year old Albert Pujols. Albert Pujols who has missed 44 games in his 7 year career. That's just over 6 games a year. 30+ home runs, over 100 RBI all seven times. Career .332 hitter. Someone tell me THAT'S fair. Anyone? Yeah -- that's what I figured.
As is often the case, baseball could learn a thing or two from the Yankees. While other teams skipped over Scott Boras client Rick Porcello in the draft in order to avoid dealing with Boras (Porcello ended up with the Tigers), the Yankees spoke to their superstar and said "Yeah, we want you back, A-Rod. We really do. It's just that guy you keep bringing with you. He's kind of a dick." Yeah. Scott Boras, you are the guy at the party who keeps hanging around well after he's worn out his welcome. You're the one who tries to play Pictionary at a rave and do shrooms at afternoon tea. Nobody wants you around anymore, Scott. You have your money. Find some new friends.
Scott Boras is. His draft clients are viewed as poisonous. His other clients are seen as immovable, almost unsignable. You know you're in trouble when the richest franchise in all of sports, the New York Yankees, says they don't want to deal with you, and indicates to YOUR client that it would be much easier if you were not involved with the negotiations. He's become a pariah, fallen victim to the ostracon. He is joining the leper colony. I'll stop with all that now.
His problem? He's not really looking out for anyone. He's looking out for his own bottom line. Not only that, but he's doing it while giving the impression that he's looking out for his clients. Sure, he's getting them more money, but at what cost? Boras is the reason that smaller market teams are fading. Because of him, his clients keep upping the market value of marquee free agents, making it harder for small teams to sign star players, making them fill their rosters with the cream of either yesterday's crop or today's trash heap. Even then, teams like the Royals end up paying 55 million dollars over five years for an injury prone pitcher with a career 4.65 ERA (Gil Meche). Sure, it worked out okay, but how many more years like that can Meche put up? How the hell, please tell me, did Boras get JD Drew (JD DREW!) a 70 million dollar contract for five years? He had one stellar season (2004 Atlanta) and two decent seasons (2001 and 2006) -- only played two full seasons in his entire career and was already 31 years old. Why not just pay 2 million more a year and nab Carlos Lee (thanks again Scott)? Three more for Alfonso Soriano?
I'm sorry for the rant, but I find it difficult to live in a world where JD Drew, who doesn't play if he has a hangnail, is making 14 million dollars a year. That's 200K less than Albert Pujols. That's 27 year old Albert Pujols. Albert Pujols who has missed 44 games in his 7 year career. That's just over 6 games a year. 30+ home runs, over 100 RBI all seven times. Career .332 hitter. Someone tell me THAT'S fair. Anyone? Yeah -- that's what I figured.
As is often the case, baseball could learn a thing or two from the Yankees. While other teams skipped over Scott Boras client Rick Porcello in the draft in order to avoid dealing with Boras (Porcello ended up with the Tigers), the Yankees spoke to their superstar and said "Yeah, we want you back, A-Rod. We really do. It's just that guy you keep bringing with you. He's kind of a dick." Yeah. Scott Boras, you are the guy at the party who keeps hanging around well after he's worn out his welcome. You're the one who tries to play Pictionary at a rave and do shrooms at afternoon tea. Nobody wants you around anymore, Scott. You have your money. Find some new friends.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The War
Many of us have seen The Graduate. We remember the soldier in the beginning in the fish tank, weapon pointed directly at Benjamin's head. We remember the parallel later when his parents give him the diving gear and he's in the pool. There's the staunch black background when he's around the authority figures (the landlord, Mrs. Robinson). There's the white contrasts when he's in the Robinsons' house, when he's with Elaine. It's all there -- the hidden discussions of the Vietnam War -- thinly veiled underneath the landlord making sure that Benjamin isn't "one of those agitators."
The War in and of itself isn't specifically mentioned. Mr. McGuire mentions his one word: "plastics" to Benjamin. That is a very important line for a number of reasons. The one I'll emphasize here is this: a lot of plastics manufacturers were contractors for the United States, making napalm, other plastic explosives for the war effort. If Benjamin got into plastics, he's technically a defense contractor and therefore wouldn't be able to go to war.
It's really all over The Graduate. Plastered onto the walls, encrypted in the sentences that the characters speak. Does Benjamin drift? Does he get into the life with Elaine? Does he follow the "orders" of Mrs. Robinson? The choices are there, and the foundation is laid. The rest is left to the viewers to figure it out.
Slightly less subtle, however, is I Heart Huckabee's. Vivian Jaffe mentions "the big September thing" like it's nothing. Tommy (Mark Wahlburg) is very adamant about the use of petroleum and the problems that it causes. He's obviously dealing with a lot of the aftermath of 9-11, and the idea is that these people, these wallowing souls can't seem to find the information they want out of life. "Why do people only ask themselves deep questions when something really bad happens?" That's exactly what he's doing. These are people who are searching for easy answers. These are people who are doing exactly what they look down upon. They are hypocrites. And they can't help it.
Watch Huckabee's more closely. There is the unified infinity of everything. How are the terrorists connected to us? How are we the destroyers as well as they are? What is this movie trying to say? There are so many layers to what they are saying. There are no easy answers, but here are some of them spoonfed to you. What do you believe?
The point of this post, however, is not solely to analyze film. It is to discuss the layers of each situation that we seem to forget about, that seem to go untouched upon. These films -- the ones that deal with aftermath and reaction rather than specific events (see: United 93, World Trade Center, Platoon) are the ones that actually provoke our analysis of the situation. What are the levels of this that we're missing? What parts of the Vietnam War didn't we see as it was happening? What factors that contributed to 9-11 could have been helped, avoided, worked through. There is no inevitability -- nothing HAS to happen. There are ways that would make things work out better, and things that would make matters worse. Film is a reflection, often, of the steps that are taken to make matters worse through the simple use of "the good guys." The problem is, when you hate everyone in a film, you don't know who to believe -- and that's just as useful a tool for filmmakers.
Determine where your allegiances lie when you watch a movie. Figure out what your ideas are while you see it for the first time. Then, when it's over, think about how it meshed or clashed with your ideas, and why. Then, before too much time has passed, watch the movie again. See where it takes you this time, with your notions firmly in place. I guarantee, whether you agree with it or not, you'll notice something new.
The War in and of itself isn't specifically mentioned. Mr. McGuire mentions his one word: "plastics" to Benjamin. That is a very important line for a number of reasons. The one I'll emphasize here is this: a lot of plastics manufacturers were contractors for the United States, making napalm, other plastic explosives for the war effort. If Benjamin got into plastics, he's technically a defense contractor and therefore wouldn't be able to go to war.
It's really all over The Graduate. Plastered onto the walls, encrypted in the sentences that the characters speak. Does Benjamin drift? Does he get into the life with Elaine? Does he follow the "orders" of Mrs. Robinson? The choices are there, and the foundation is laid. The rest is left to the viewers to figure it out.
Slightly less subtle, however, is I Heart Huckabee's. Vivian Jaffe mentions "the big September thing" like it's nothing. Tommy (Mark Wahlburg) is very adamant about the use of petroleum and the problems that it causes. He's obviously dealing with a lot of the aftermath of 9-11, and the idea is that these people, these wallowing souls can't seem to find the information they want out of life. "Why do people only ask themselves deep questions when something really bad happens?" That's exactly what he's doing. These are people who are searching for easy answers. These are people who are doing exactly what they look down upon. They are hypocrites. And they can't help it.
Watch Huckabee's more closely. There is the unified infinity of everything. How are the terrorists connected to us? How are we the destroyers as well as they are? What is this movie trying to say? There are so many layers to what they are saying. There are no easy answers, but here are some of them spoonfed to you. What do you believe?
The point of this post, however, is not solely to analyze film. It is to discuss the layers of each situation that we seem to forget about, that seem to go untouched upon. These films -- the ones that deal with aftermath and reaction rather than specific events (see: United 93, World Trade Center, Platoon) are the ones that actually provoke our analysis of the situation. What are the levels of this that we're missing? What parts of the Vietnam War didn't we see as it was happening? What factors that contributed to 9-11 could have been helped, avoided, worked through. There is no inevitability -- nothing HAS to happen. There are ways that would make things work out better, and things that would make matters worse. Film is a reflection, often, of the steps that are taken to make matters worse through the simple use of "the good guys." The problem is, when you hate everyone in a film, you don't know who to believe -- and that's just as useful a tool for filmmakers.
Determine where your allegiances lie when you watch a movie. Figure out what your ideas are while you see it for the first time. Then, when it's over, think about how it meshed or clashed with your ideas, and why. Then, before too much time has passed, watch the movie again. See where it takes you this time, with your notions firmly in place. I guarantee, whether you agree with it or not, you'll notice something new.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)