The Dark Knight (2008)

Our Dark Knight

“The Dark Knight”, the newest Batman film, broke box office records this weekend. The tragic death of Heath Ledger months prior to the opening certainly spawned a certain morbid curiosity regarding the film. Images of Ledger’s Joker appeared on the Net within days of his demise. It was more than a publicity ploy – Ledger is the movie. The film revolves around the not so merry prankster. It’s worth the price of admission but one can’t help feeling some regrets that this Swan Song wasn’t set in a different pond. I’m not referring to the fact that this Gotham is Chicago – even if they’d done it right by using the Big Apple, the flaws are more than geographic.

It’s all very slick. There are marvelous supporting actors (Morgan Freeman, Michael Cain…) and the modernist slant on Gotham and the Bat-cave were ingenious. No cramped quarters amidst Depression era squalor – we’re in an endless sea of Seagram’s buildings – this Batman lives in Architectural Digest. It works. The props were equally impressive – loved the Mad Maxish cycle and the up-armored Hummer Bat-mobile. And lets not forget the make-up & costumes. This Joker is a homage to Clockwork Orange and PT Barnum; the caped crusader is GQ cool in-and-out of his cowl – couldn’t get enough of that endless wind-flapping curtain-like cape. Unfortunately the writers had too much wind and the director seemed to blow in the breeze of FX fun. The mechanics overwhelmed the driver.

There is talk about this being a meditation on our current regrettable political state. The dramatic team comes out on the side of the rule of law vs. the rule of order. Having just seen “Batman Begins” they still are on the side of Dirty Harry in “Magnum Force” and not Dirty Harry in “Dirty Harry”. Well unfortunately they didn’t quite strike the meditative balance of Fritz Lang’s “M”. The bottom line is the sermon must fit within the dramatic framework. In this case too much weight was laid on a cumbersome love triangle. It wasn’t the actors’ fault, Batman, the DA and the Assistant DA all hit their marks – but you can’t do ballet when the band is playing a polka. Did you believe anyone was smitten with anyone? Once again they all gave it their best shot – but this Love Boat never left the harbor.

Maybe I’m being abit hard – hey what’s wrong with a slick production that tries to rise above the fray and actually say something. Well good intentions can only go so far and this political season I’ll reserve my “Yes We Can” feel good spirit for real politics. Let comic books be… well comic books. Villains need to cackle and good guys need to muster the forces of righteousness just in time to save the lady tied to the saw-mill. The righteousness arrived, albeit it was a busy last half hour. There was plenty of cackling and Ledger’s last performance was indeed memorable – although I really think John Malkovitch nailed this sort of character in “In the Line of Fire”. But at least Ledger wasn’t burdened with being one of the sides of that triangle. Alas he was forced to showcase the writer’s unfortunate habit of giving lines to the character that should have remained director’s notes. I think the Joker is everything he said he was but I don’t think he would have said he was. It’s the same problem Hannibal Lector had in the sequel to “Silence of the Lambs”. In the first film he was Hannibal but in “Hannibal” he was the idea of Hannibal. That film was ingenious, clever, well researched but intellectual summersaults are for the brain and not the heart. Same goes for “The Dark Knight”: We needed more of the dashing DA metamorphosing into the Portrait of Dorian Gray. It’s absurd. It’s over the top. But… it worked. Kudos to Aaron Eckhart; a lesser actor might not have understood how much ham to put in the sandwich. Gary Oldman was equally impressive as the battled hardened cop exhibiting the importance of being earnest. Yes they’re campy but hey THIS IS A COMIC BOOK… women really faint and yes the villain always blink their eyes…. Let’s not discuss motivation or make incisive commentary about current events.

Once again I’m being picky. Lay your $7.50 (or more) down, sit back and look for the signal of the bat in the sky. He’ll come. He’s everything a 21st century batman should be. Morgan Freeman channels James Bond’s Q and delivers enough jabber about the technical side of the Bat-gizmos to make any child of the Wacky Pack generation think: well they probably have stuff like that for Special Forces… More importantly he’s what we crave in W’s second term: a rich. Handsome, corporate tycoon, void of arrogance, saddled with doubt, wrestling with his social conscience and channeling everything into a magic machine to crush the evil doers. It’s enough to make you believe in a smart, good looking, ambitious Chicago politician who doesn’t believe in politics.

Juno (2008)

Inconceivable

The hot independent film this year is “Juno”, a comedy about teenage pregnancy. It is possible to humorously dramatize hot button material. It requires diplomatic sensitivity in drawing the fine line of propriety. Cutting edge comedy often bleeds rather than tickles. In this case it was simply repellent. It is interesting to note that “4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days”, this year’s critically acclaimed Romanian film, is also a comedy centered on an unwanted pregnancy. I haven’t seen it. I’ve heard good things. Unfortunately after all the kudos about "Juno" I couldn't make it through the second half.

This film is not funny. The bun-holder is smug, starlet who’s slumming it as a blue collar outcast. I sense in real-life she’s the kind of red-carpet strutter who chews threw personal assistants like M&Ms. No doubt she’ll be successful – at least for 15 minutes – but that might be enough to put some green under the mattress. The unfunniness is credited to one Diablo Cody. In this case your Sunday school teacher was right at least as far as the Devil’s abilities as a writer are concerned. The director, Jason Reitman, keeps the show on the road in a TVish linear storyline way. The main question: was this merely a gig or did he actually think this was funny? I had heard good things about “Thank You For Smoking” but then again word of mouth this one was strong. I guess since I haven’t been much of a devil’s advocate I should charge him as a co-conspirator in Ms. Cody’s preguation comedy. Getting into the details of their crime would be the equivalent of critiquing the opening sequence of "Threes Company" or analyzing Pat Sajack's interview techniques. Do most young teenage girls joke around with the Deli-man about their predicament after "failing" the pregnancy test in public bathroom? HA HA HA - the laughs are just starting everybody - we're only two minutes past the opening credits.

Maybe my funny bone is broken but I would advise all "Juno" fans to view the following: “Citizen Ruth” as how to handle unwanted pregnancy in a clever manner; and “Ghostworld” as a brilliant portrait of young female outsiderness. There have been people saying this is another “Little Miss Sunshine”. No. That was a well executed road film with sympathetic characters. They were genuine American Family odd-balls, the filmic descendants of “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore”. “Juno” has its stylistic roots in forgettable "issue oriented" TV movies – I remember one that brought up the scourge of husbands who are physically abused by their wives. I had a deep belly laugh the whole two hours – unlike my experience in “Juno”. It takes a fair about of mediocrity to force me to abandon the warm movie theater at the hight of a New England Winter before the closing credits. It was inconceivable. In the end: the Diablo made me do it.

There Will Be Blood (2007)

Stealing the Show

The American Woodsman is interested in nothing. Any notion of sensitivity is foreign to him. Those boughs so elegantly sprouted by nature, the fine foliage, the bright color that enlivens a part of the forest, the deeper green that darkens another part – all this means nothing to him. He has no memories to call upon in any particular place. His only thought is for the number of ax-strokes required to chop down a tree. He has never planted anything; he does not know such pleasures. Any tree he might plant is worthless to him, because he will never see it sufficiently large to be chopped down. Destruction is what keeps him alive. Destruction is everywhere; hence every place suits him. He cares nothing for the field where he has done his work, because his work is only toil and no idea of sweetness is associated with it. What emerges from his hands does not pass through all the stages of growth that so touch the farmer’s heart. He does not follow the destiny of his products. He does not know the pleasure of new ventures. And so long as he does not forget to take his ax with him he has no regrets about leaving the spot he has dwelled in for years.

-Talleyrand, Memoirs on the Commercial relations between the United States and England, April 4, 1797

Last night I saw Paul Thomas Anderson’s “There Will Be Blood” – a searing character study of an early 20th century oil entrepreneur. This morning I read the cover story of the NYT business section regarding the feud between Maurice Greenberg, the creator of the world’s largest insurance company, and his heir apparent. It seems that the protagonist is alive and well. This is not a criticism of Mr. Greenberg so much as a compliment to Mr. Anderson’s prescience in telling this story at this time. Americans prefer to think of themselves as optimistic do-gooders and we extend this veneer to business. Our Gospel is simple: capitalism is the bulwark against evil. It is ironic that our patron saint, George Washington, a formidable real-estate entrepreneur who had the good sense to marry a wealthy widow, fails to be honored for his business acumen. There is something about maximizing profit. Even the most ardent pious patriot knows that this preoccupation bears a resemblance to the pursuit of forbidden fruit. We watch television shows about doctors, lawyers and policeman who strive for truth justice and the American way. Imagine a drama featuring bankers, stockbrokers and entrepreneurs? Our heroes might lose their luster discussing a cost benefit analysis of the latest baby-food. How about a frank talk about the pay-day loan business? (Maybe an episode where the bosses target young soldiers going off to war?) I had a friend who worked for a used car dealer. He saw his mentor sell a worthless car to an elderly customer. The novice pressed his elder about the transaction. The boss sagely quoted scripture that extolled the virtues of Eve’s friend from the tree: “Be as wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove” (Matthew 10:16). Our good book is focused on the “bottom line”. No doubt our first President took this to heart. His first job was as a surveyor. Washington was virtuous but he also knew that the pie needed to be divided.

Anderson’s anti-hero is the embodiment of the division that is in America’s blood. Daniel Plainview divides things: earth from oil, families from themselves and his share from everyone else’s. This film is based on the early 20th century writer Upton Sinclair’s “Oil”. Sinclair is better known for his, literally gut-wrenching expose of the meat packing industry (“The Jungle”). I haven’t read “Oil” but given the film I’d say Plainview would have been equally at home selling adulterated cows to orphans. Audiences might not be able to stomach him as a weekly series (although we did have J.R. Hewing) but as a special feature – he’s a treat to watch. This film is really the Daniel Day Lewis show. Without doubt this is one of the best films in awhile but given Mr. Anderson’s previous work (Hard 8, Boogie Nights, Magnolia) I am holding him to a higher standard. The director is, in contrast to his star, out of top form. There are glimmers of brilliance. The scene in which Plainview’s son confronts him after being exiled is magnificently executed in a long shot. Ditto for the staging of Plainview’s fake conversion. The choice of having him confront the preacher out of ear-shot prior to returning to the pews is equally masterful. But the overall effect is Lewis’ star burning amongst set-piece performances, startling under-drawn foil characters and a drab unmusical background.

Mr. Anderson has a track record that showcases a wonderful ability to manage a parade of virtuoso performances in poignant, carefully sculpted American landscapes. In “Blood for Oil” he seems to have lost himself in Mr. Lewis. It’s understandable. This is one of the great film performances of all time. Given Mr. Anderson’s writing/directing, credit must be due. However there is strong imbalance to the work as a whole. On paper this is a film contrasting Mr. Plainfield with a host of luminaries with a distinctly American flavor. There is the distant looming “big oil” – the free market entrepreneurs who are further down the road to salvation. There is the vain preacher and his foolish flock – on the wrong road – they could be plucked from an unpublished Mark Twain story. There is beloved/hateful son who rises from silent shadows of the sins of the father. Yet Anderson, like his protagonist, has a myopic fatalism. If Plainfield’s downfall is “oil”; Anderson’s is Plainfield himself. This sounds strange. How could a tour de force performance undermine a film? The problem lies in Plainfield being framed by his surroundings. It has been said that “no man is an island” – well the same holds true for actors. The LA milieu of “Boogie Nights” or “Magnolia” stands in stark contrast to the dreary bleakness of Plainfield’s world. The sounding of an artistic portrait should never be mistaken for the note it is trying to strike. The director’s job is to bring majesty to the grimness. Lewis gloriously renders hard-nosed, bitter, striving desperation. Anderson thought that was enough. His previous work gives us WORLDS of appalling desperadoes; not simply one single individual. “There Will be Blood” gives us the jewel of Mr. Lewis’ performance in a cardboard box. With the exception of his young son the secondary cast was forgettable. The portrayal of the landscape was equally mediocre – contrast to the “Days of Heaven”. There was equally a surprising lack of music. How about a Woody Guthrie dust bowl ballad from 1937:

Oh, if you ain't got the do re mi, folks, you ain't got the do re mi,
Why, you better go back to beautiful Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee.
California is a garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or see;
But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot
If you ain't got the do re mi.

Although thematically perfect it is chronologically inaccurate. I’m sure a clever musicologist could find a period appropriate ballad echoing the themes of the film. But Mr. Anderson wasn’t looking. Perhaps he thought it might cloud the hardscrabbleness. Mr. Lewis sure makes up for all the shortcomings. He struck a gusher. I’m just disappointed Anderson wasn’t able to cap it. I listened to Anderson speak about the choice of subject matter. He wanted to make a political statement that was so profound as to rise above politics. Unfortunately people will savor Lewis’ dazzling virtuosity and not the implications of the story. The proof is in the pudding. In the New York Times piece about the bitter, vicious internecine struggle over the fate of Mr. Greenberg’s AIG insurance company – the reporter made reference to Greek Tragedy; but not Anderson’s work. That’s the real tragedy of “There Will Be Blood”.