The remoteness of art–and some relationships…

In the film, All the Vermeers in New York, stockbroker Mark meets Anna–a French model while they are both gazing at paintings in the Vermeer Room inside the New York Metropolitan Museum. He is immediately struck by her physical similarity to Vermeer’s models. They really have nothing in common–apart from a love of Vermeer, and their ephemeral relationship is vague and indecipherable.

There’s a lot wrong with this film. The story is pushed aside for overly long camera shots of the museum columns and the floor (amongst other things), and the soundtrack is nothing short of annoying–there are screeching noises and even mini-siren sounds at some points. The film is also self-consciously pretentious at points, and director Jon Jost’s ponderous, introspective style may bother some viewers.

BUT, there’s also a lot very, very right with this film. Some of the cinematography is spectacular–how did they make some of the New York scenes look like an Italian landscape? And in one of the scenes, Anna’s profile is reflected in a framed painting. For me, however, the saving grace of the film is the story. The lonely stockbroker–who claims that art is his salvation–longs to connect with someone, and unfortunately, when he meets Anna, he thinks she is the embodiment of all he holds dear. His imagination is at once the characteristic that makes him so interesting, but it is also his downfall. Anna is attracted to Mark’s money, and she fails to see the person behind the dollar bills. Ultimately they are as remote and indecipherable to each other as the Vermeer paintings created long ago. This is really a very beautiful film–in spite of its flaws. From director Jon Jost.

“I have escaped from emotions.”

The role of The Pawnbroker–Sol Nazerman is said to be the highlight of Rod Steiger’s career. Middle-aged Sol Nazerman is emotionally dead, yet he still functions–after a fashion. He opens and closes his dingy pawnshop in a run-down section of New York, and he lives and helps support his sister-in-law’s annoying family out in Long Island. Sol goes through the motions of being alive, but he doesn’t feel anything, and he’d prefer not to remember anything. When the film begins, it is the 25th anniversary of Sol’s wife’s death in a concentration camp. Survivor’s guilt plagues Sol, and the memories of those he loved bring only pain and suffering.

Several people try to ‘reach’ Sol–his eager young shop assistant, Jesus Ortiz, Sol’s long-time lover, and a lonely widow who seeks charitable contributions. Sol rejects everyone, and it’s clear that life and its bombardment of emotions is extremely painful. Amidst flashback sequences of his past, Sol delivers financial judgment on the pathetic articles dredged up by the local residents. Sol rejects pity, and sympathy, and instead doles out pawn tickets and dollar bills to his customers. The customers criticize his lack of humanity. They expect their stories of woe will somehow increase the payment Sol gives them, yet little do they realize that he has suffered far more than they could ever imagine.

Rod Steiger’s performance is incredible. He is disconnected from all around him, but the past also acts as a live wire to the depths of his soul. A great deal of this film’s power comes from Steiger’s performance, but the film also masterfully imposes Sol’s memories into his current life. This method of using flashbacks effectively emphasizes the unrelenting nightmare of his past, and the film raises the question: ‘how do you go on living after experiencing hell?’ The film is dated in some aspects, but even these corny segments cannot detract from the film’s overall power. The Pawnbroker, from director Sidney Lumet, is a must for all film buffs.

“No man was born for marriage. He has to be trained for it.”

In the opening scene of the film Harriet Craig a houseful of servants scurry around frantically as they help Harriet (Joan Crawford) prepare for a trip. While Harriet, at first, speaks politely to her cousin/maid Clare, the harried, frantic manner in which Clare attempts to meet Harriet’s every whim, is chilling. Harriet Craig is a domestic dragon. Her house is run like clockwork–nothing is to be moved out of place–everything is to remain spotless. This neatness fetish may not sound too daunting, but Harriet’s obsession with perfection runs deeper than a tidy house. Harriet is a domineering controller, and everyone who lives in her house must bend to her will in all situations.

Harriet Craig moves forward with precision. At first, Harriet’s fetish with neatness is slightly deranged, but within a few scenes, Harriet takes increasingly greater liberties with the lives of the people she’s supposed to care about. The incidents which reveal Harriet’s true nature build with steady momentum. As the film progresses, the buried depths of venom spew from her in rapid succession. Harriet is capable of layers of spite. She doesn’t worry, for example, about the social niceties with the servants, and with them, she doesn’t even bother to appear nice. With her husband, Harriet is at her most manipulative. One brilliant scene, in particular, (when she dissuades him from a game of golf), shows Harriet’s seductive power. By the time she’s finished with her husband, he thinks it’s his idea to miss the game and stay home, and he’s even happy about it! He is blissfully unaware of Harriet’s true nature, and he thinks he’s married some sort of domestic goddess who worries about the house too much. Harriet controls her husband with guided sweetness, but under that facade of sweetness, she will stop at nothing to keep him under her thumb. Things in Harriet’s house become decidedly out-of-control during a dinner party, and as Harriet moves back and forth between her servants and her social acquaintances, she switches back between viciousness and controlling masked by concern. Joan Crawford delivers a tour-de-force performance. It’s easy to see her as the perfect house-frau, cold, heartless, and cruel. She acts her heart out, and just as she appears to give the role everything she has, deeper layers of viciousness explode to the surface. Great stuff.

“I don’t like ribbons and I got me a hangover.”

Lawn Dogs from Australian director John Duigan is a really remarkable film. It’s the story of 10-year-old Devon (Mischa Barton) who lives with her parents Morton and Clare Stockard (Christopher McDonald & Kathleen Quinlan). The Stockards live in the ostentatious gated community, Camelot Estates–and as the name implies, every house looks like a faux mansion. There’s a gruff security guard dedicated to keeping the snobs in and the riff raff out. But someone has to keep those immaculate lawns impeccably green, and that’s where Trent (Sam Rockwell) comes in.

Trent lives near the Camelot Estates in a tatty old trailer, and Devon, who embarks on a cookie sale, finds her way to Trent’s trailer. Trent is the living embodiment of everything her parents abhor and turn away from in horror. Devon intuitively senses that Trent’s existence challenges her parents’ shallow values, and one of the things she tells him is “people say you’re trash.” This is the beginning of an odd friendship between Devon and Trent.

There is such much going on in this film. On one level, there’s a precocious child who seeks out the forbidden company of the hired help. But on another level, there’s a perverse fairy story–Devon, a frail child–mutters fragments of fairy stories to herself for entertainment. She discovers a remarkably free world beyond the boundaries of her artificial kingdom.

Mischa Barton plays Devon with amazing skill. It would be easy for her character to develop into brattiness, but instead Devon seems almost a changeling child–how could such an elf-like spirit belong to the pedestrian, hypocritical Stoddards? It’s no wonder Devon strains to break free from the false conventions the Stoddards attempt to control her with.

The film also deals with class divisions. The well-to-do (and they are mostly snottily unpleasant) live in the pristine Camelot Estates, but from necessity, they employ Trent to complete the manual work. While wealthy yobos harass and ridicule Trent, it’s clear that on some level, these lay-abouts are also a little fearful of Sam’s raw energy and potent virility. Hostility seems rooted in the theory that Trent is out to ruin the lifestyle of Camelot Estates, and that he may even appeal to the women within this perfect, gated community. Devon is drawn to Sam, and while their relationship seems inexplicable at first, it seems that they do have something in common. Devon remains a unique individual in spite of all her parents’ attempts to make her conform by offering little pep talks (”a popular girl is never bored or boring”). Devon responds by playing Amputee Checkers with her dolls. I am not one normally to be intrigued with the characters of children in films, but with Devon, I make an exception. At what age does individualism become apparent? Is Devon’s rebellion just the beginning or the end of a new phase in her life? We imagine that a gated community is built to keep out undesirable elements, but what happens if an individual (Devon in this case) longs to get out? I have read many negative professional reviews about this film, but it’s a great favourite with me. If you enjoy this film, then I also recommend You Can Count On Me.

Super Size Me

Breast Men is a HBO film focusing on the two doctors with the questionable honour of being the surgeons who pioneered silicone gel implant breast augmentation. Dr William Larson (Chris Cooper) is working at Texas Medical Centre where he oversees young intern Dr. Christopher (Kevin) Saunders (David Schwimmer). Larson is suffering from a lack of recognition in his disrespected field. When Saunders discusses his interest and innovative ideas in breast implants, Larson is at first appalled, but he eventually becomes interested. The two form a partnership under great adversity–the hospital they both work for is violently opposed to any connection with breast implants. Larson and Saunders become rejects and outcasts in the medical profession as they launch their new silicone gel implant augmentation technique.

Soon the two doctors have a lucrative practice. The patients and the money roll in. But it’s clear it won’t last, and the film covers both the rise and fall of the silicone gel breast implant era.

While the story is just a little too cut and dried at times, overall, the film is extremely interesting, and there’s even a fair touch of humour. The doctors–Larson and Saunders are foils for one another. Larson is respectable and knows to concentrate the sales pitch on the lofty ideals–women elect to have this sort of surgery for their self-esteem, so it must inherently be a good thing, blah, blah. Saunders, however, is a man with vision. He’s not shy about marketing his product at all. They need each other, but at the same time, their different approaches destroy the partnership. Both roles are well cast and well acted. I had a very good friend who decided to have silicone implants in the 80s–before all the health problems arose, and I thought she was bonkers to do it. She fell into the trap–as did many women–thinking that if she had to pay $X for surgery, she might just as well have larger ones. One of the most intriguing questions raised by the film is the question of medical ethics. If this elective surgery is performed solely to please, then what happens if you start trying to please the unpleasable? At what point do you cross the line because it’s “what the woman wants”? And what about serial augmentation? The film explores the question of medical ethics through the character of Dr Saunders and his innovative mega-breast surgery–a novelty that swept strip bars, adult magazines and films. He was known as “the Penthouse plastic surgeon.”

There are several scenes in a strip bar–along with the obligatory swinging around the pole. There are also many scenes of women showing their breasts in screen-test sorts of scenarios, so this is not one for the kiddies. For anyone even mildly interested in the breast implant industry, the film is worth watching. It’s an interesting rise and fall film–replete with addiction, greed, jealousy, vanity, and all those other essential human qualities. From director Lawrence O’Neil.

“You needed me, but you never loved me.”

The Goddess, from director John Cromwell,is the story of a needy, neurotic actress, Emily Ann Faulkner (Kim Stanley). She’s born into poverty, and grows up unwanted and unloved but is transformed by Hollywood into a glamorous star. You can’t watch this film too long without getting this slightly uncomfortable feeling that there are some rather uncanny parallels about this film and the real-life story of Marilyn Monroe.

The film begins in Emily Ann’s early childhood, covers her troubled teenage years, her marriages, and her meteorical rise to a troubled stardom. Lloyd Bridges plays husband, boxing promoter Dutch Seymour whose jealously and possessiveness ultimately drives them apart.

Kim Stanley is a phenomenal actress. I first saw her in Seance on a Wet Afternoon and I was so intrigued by her, that I hunted down a copy of this almost-lost film. Stanley plays Emily Ann beginning age 16, and it’s true that she is quite obviously older than that. Stanley is no great beauty, but as Emily Ann transforms into a famous glamorous actress, Stanley becomes uncannily more Monroe-like. The Goddess was nominated for an Oscar for Best Screenplay, and it’s easy to see why. If ever an actress was made for a part, it’s Kim Stanley as the hollow, fragile and restless Hollywood Goddess–simply marvelous.

“This is the most disorganized household.”

Pre-med student, Raymond Aibelli (Jeremy Davies), comes home during the summer for a few days. He’s due to go onto Washington for a prestigious internship at the Surgeon General’s office. When he arrives home, his dad–a traveling salesman–abruptly tells Raymond that he has to stay home and nurse his mother. She has a compound fracture and is bed-bound. Raymond’s protests fall on deaf ears. Raymond’s selfish and controlling father seems to think that Raymond can just pick up the internship another time. So Raymond is stuck at home with his mother while his dad hits the road.

The film Spanking the Monkey is a perfect example of Tolstoy’s quote from Anna Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” The Aibelli family–to use a well-worn phrase–is a dysfunctional family. On the outside, they seem quite rather average, but in the confines of their home ….

Raymond’s father is free of his family while he takes these extended sales trips. He has freedom of movement, but he also dumps the whole ‘family man’ routine. His wife, on the other hand, is literally stuck in bed, and Raymond is stuck taking care of her. But the situation is far worse than that–both Raymond and his mother are prisoners of the rules laid down for them–these rules include strict use of the car and regulations regarding the dog’s exercise. Why both the mother and the son obey such intricate and pointless rules is a testament to the family dynamic they are engaged in. No one rocks the boat–no one frankly disobeys, and as a result, they all suffer.

On top of Raymond’s dashed dreams of the internship (and his sacrifice is largely ignored), he struggles with questions about his masculinity from former high school friends, and even the 16 year-old daughter of a neighbouring psychiatrist questions Raymond’s feelings towards girls.

Spanking the Monkey deals with issues of independence–all three members of the Aibelli family view each other as roles–rather than as individuals, and they each fail to see each other’s unhappiness. While the father maintains some sort of rogue male status, both Raymond’s mother and Raymond are cast into roles that deny individual need. It’s no real shock that Raymond’s selfish father should imagine that he rates above everyone else, but Raymond and his mother also fail to accept each other as individuals. For this summer, Raymond exists to nurse his mother, and she exists as a weight around his neck. There’s virtually no privacy, and they are stuck in trapped intimacy. Spanking the Monkey is the biggest argument I’ve seen for why children need space of their own. The film may sound bleak and depressing, but the dilemmas faced by the characters are laced with irony and black humour, and the film, ultimately is engaging and insightful. If you haven’t seen the film and are interested in the subject matter, I recommend it highly. From writer/director David O. Russell.

Another winner from John Sayles

I always watch for films directed by John Sayles. His film, Casa de los Babys takes a fictional look at the adoption process in Mexico. Six women–5 Americans and one Irishwoman–are holed up at a hotel in Mexico awaiting approval of their respective applications before taking their newly adopted babies back to America. The soon-to-be mothers (including Lili Taylor, Mary Steenburgen, Daryl Hannah, Maggie Gyllenhaal, and Mary Kay Place) have all sorts of personal problems, and for some of these women adopting in America would be problematic. A sense of competition exists between the women as they wait for their babies–who will be the best mother? Who doesn’t ‘deserve’ to be a mother? Each woman has her own unique theories about child rearing, and, of course, the fact that these theories are untested does not make the women deviate one bit.

Senora Munoz (wonderfully acted by Rita Moreno) runs the hotel that houses the waiting women. It’s just a business to her–one she’d rather not examine too closely. The orphanage provides her with a living and also puts food on the table for the employees who lead marginal lives. The film raises some very interesting questions about adoption–some of these questions are tackled directly on the film. Senora Munoz’s useless would-be-revolutionary son wonders how Americans would feel if Mexicans adopted American children and then subsequently raised them in Mexico. He believes this would be considered an outrage and that even if it were allowed to happen, it would be strictly regulated. The alternatives for the children who are not adopted are hopeless–throughout the film a band of street beggars–just children–roam around looking for opportunities to get enough to eat. There are holes in the adoption process for the Mexican children, and that is blatantly obvious as it is revealed that the severely unpleasant Nan’s (Mary Kay Place) stories simply do not add up. But no one cares enough to block her application.

I was a little concerned that this would be a 6 women get-together-touchy-feely-exchange thing. Faith in the director John Sayles told me this film would deliver more than just some lukewarm chat sessions. I was not disappointed. Only one scene was over-the-top with sentimentality–one character waxed on for an interminable amount of time about her soon-to-be daughter. The scene was excessive. The rest of the film, however, offers tremendous food-for-thought.

Ultimately the film is about hope–hope the mothers have for their new children, hope that drives people to purchase a lottery ticket with the only money they have, and hope that keeps people going day after day with the idea that life will improve. Comments from John Sayles are included in the very worthy DVD extras.

“I haven’t been deconstructed in a long time.”

Syd (Radha Mitchell) is the assistant editor at the photography magazine Frame. Unfortunately, in spite of a recent promotion, her co-workers still expect her to fetch them coffee and sandwiches. One evening, Syd discovers, by pure accident, that famous photographer, Lucy Berliner (Ally Sheedy) lives in the same apartment building with her German girlfriend, former Fassbinder actress Greta (Patricia Clarkson). Lucy Berliner is a legend in the photography world–notoriously difficult to work with, Lucy just disappeared from the professional photography scene years ago while at the pinnacle of her success. Lucy is attracted to Syd,and this causes a great deal of pressure within Lucy and Greta’s relationship. Greta sees Syd as a threat, but she also senses that Syd is a sycophant. Lucy is surrounded by human parasites of one sort or another. There’s a constant party in Lucy’s apartment–she’s the one with the money and the supplies, and Lucy’s relentless inflexible mother supports Lucy and her lifestyle.

Syd is ambitious, focused, and extremely directed. She persuades her boss to give Lucy a spread in Frame magazine. The magazine stands to benefit for reviving the once-famous Berliner, Syd stands to gain some respect and improved standing with her co-workers, but Lucy, who dropped out of the photography scene years ago … what does she stand to gain?

High Art is a subtle examination of how we use people to get what we want in life. Everyone in the film is a people-user. There’s Syd, she’s the low person on the totem pole, so her co-workers use her, but now she has a chance to move up. In order to do that, she has to exploit her relationship with Lucy. All Lucy’s friends and acquaintances use Lucy–she has the apartment and the money her circle of friends don’t have. Lucy uses her mother, and Greta uses Lucy. It’s hard to imagine the languid Greta sticking around if Lucy didn’t keep her well supplied. But the most interesting relationship here is between Syd and Lucy, and there’s definitely mutual use going on here. Just how far is Syd willing to go to persuade Lucy Berliner to submit material to Frame?

The film High Art makes me think of Jean-Paul Sartre’s statement that all relationships are predicated on use. How true that is, and this film exemplifies that. The casting is superb. It’s great to see Ally Sheedy–former teen darling of the 80s in this role. She’s fantastic. ‘High Art’ is my favourite film by director, Lisa Cholodenko, and it’s wonderful to see this exceptional film on DVD. I also recommend buying the incredible, unusual soundtrack (music by Shudder to Think).

“Don’t expect so much. It’s a little easier that way.”

Anna (Liza Weil) is the 17 year old protagonist of the film Whatever and the film’s title reflects Anna’s attitude. A New Jersey high school senior with aspirations to attend Art College on a scholarship, Anna drifts along emotionally detached from her family and peers. Anna’s primary relationship is with fellow drifter, Brenda (Chad Morgan). Brenda is the more troubled of the two girls, and she’s become “popular” by generously sharing her body with any male who glances in her direction. Brenda is completely out of touch with reality–and in this case, the reality is that Brenda is heading for disaster. While Anna chain smokes, ditches class, and accepts various illegal substances with a “why not?” attitude, Brenda preens in front of the mirror before each “date” and swigs large amounts of alcohol to forget her pain.

Anna and Brenda are a mismatched pair. Anna is quiet and serious, but Brenda wants life to be one big party–preferably with a long line of males in attendance. The thing they have in common is they’re both desperately unhappy, and while Brenda seeks thrills and escape, Anna goes along for the ride–simply because she lacks anything else to do. Anna reaches out to forge a connection with Martin (Marc Riffon), a pretentious young man who lives in his parents’ garage.

The adults in the film are portrayed as a rather pathetic lot–some are treated with more sympathy than others. Brenda and Anna view most of the adults as hurdles that must be avoided or placated in order to get through the average day. Anna’s mother is a divorced and desperate middle-aged woman who neglects her home and family to dance attendance on a ridiculously unsuitable (and married) beau. Anna’s mother and her friend prepare for an evening out and while they both look like some sort of has-been drag queens, both women ironically offer their opinions on Anna’s lack of effort when it comes to picking clothes.

Anna and Brenda meet up with two men who’ve recently been released from jail, and in some ways the men mirror Brenda and Anna’s relationship. One of the men is wilder & more aggressive, while his partner is quieter, more thoughtful, and at times appalled by his friend’s behaviour. To Brenda, these young toughs represent a ticket out of New Jersey. And once again, Anna gets involved simply because she’s along for the ride.

As a film about teens, Whatever creates a main character who hasn’t yet found her moral bearings. While there’s hope that Anna will stop drifting along with whatever comes her way, the film doesn’t touch on those issues. Instead director Susan Skoog concentrates on portraying Anna’s world as a place fraught with peril and occasions for activities that could bear devastating consequences. We are left with the notion that to survive the teen years–more or less intact–is pure luck. With a great 80s soundtrack that includes The Ramones, Blondie, Iggy Pop, the Pretenders and Motorhead, Whatever is a marvelous depiction of morally adrift teens.