10 January 2012

The Descendants

Directed by: Alexander Payne
Written by: Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon and Jim Rash
Full credits at IMDb

One of the many, many things that irked me about this movie was that, despite some shallow trappings, it wasn't about Hawaii at all—it was merely set there; the archipelago's greatest functions were to provide an ironic counterpoint to the narrative's tribulations, and as weather for a comedy of casual dress. (Oh, and to allow Clooney to explain how "archipelago" is a metaphor for his family!) I got the sense that Hemmings' novel likely drew a sharp allegorical connection between Clooney's wife's death-state and Hawaiian history, but the screenwriters can hardly be bothered to establish it, despite that opening monologue and the retained title. Hey, maybe if there's a late-act speech or something it'll all become clear? But this failure just highlights a larger problem: the movie's lazy loyalty to its source material. Every year has such shit adaptations—last year, it was Never Let Me Go; the year before that, The Lovely Bones and The Time Traveler's Wife—that, in a misguided attempt to honor the original prose (usually through voice-over), spend too much time telling what should be shown, expend too much effort underlining what should be left implied—or, conversely, skipping over essential information in order to hit plot points. If Payne esteems Hemmings' book, he should have just reread it; this movie does nothing but demean it. (Unless it's bad, in which case he simply does it no favors.) The movie ends up structured as a series of meaningful conversations piled on top of each other—airings of grievances, comings to terms—that highlight the personal at the expense of any enriching, grander historical meaning, and give a lot of supporting actors (Robert Forster, Judy Greer) a chance to mug for Oscars...

Keep reading my conversation with Benjamin Sutton at The L Magazine


Watch the trailer:

The Iron Lady

Directed by: Phyllida Lloyd
Written by: Abi Morgan

The connection I made to J. Edgar was that both movies are about a mean and miserable old person looking to justify their poor choices—to vindicate themselves in the sure-to-be-unkind eyes of history. But those might just be my own anti-Thatcher biases at work. The movie actually seems pretty sympathetic to Lady Ironsides, which I would imagine has something to do with the unusual number of women involved in its production: director, writer, and superstar, ladies all. This is a movie about the experience of being a Western woman in the 20th century, trying to achieve more than your mother would have been allowed to, confronting and overcoming society's pervasive boy's club mentality. And the filmmakers kind of love Thatcher for everything she accomplished, as evidenced by her epic exit walk when she steps down as prime minister—in slow motion, to some Romantic aria, across a floor strewn with rose petals. Or how she totally doesn't die while washing that tea cup. The Iron Lady is more interested in the effects of her ambition on her family, a look at the loneliness that accompanies power—that sort of thing—than in the social effects of her policies, which are vaguely summed up by video images of people protesting...

Keep reading my conversation with Benjamin Sutton at The L Magazine


Watch the trailer: