Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

My husband has insisted, since we saw the Coen Brothers' "True Grit", that the John Wayne version was better.  I vaguely remembered seeing it in the distant past, but could not imagine that it would equal the newer film.  So I'm shuffling away in the five dollar bins of DVDs in Barnes and Noble the other day (yes, I really do have too much time on my hands), and decide I'll buy it and prove my husband wrong.  The allure of making him eat his words is ignoble but real.  Long marriages do this to people and I am not immune.  Last night we watched the older film, and I convinced my husband that he was right.  Very unsatisfying.

I was surprised that the movie story lines are practically twins, despite all the hype about the Coen version being truer to the book, which I have not read and will never read.  The scenes mirror each other.  The dialogue is similar.  The endings are different, but not enough to make a new movie.  So, the fact is, the question comes up, why was this movie repeated?  It was okay enough the first time out.  John Wayne was fine, even though he's not a favorite of mine.  Kim Darby was fine in the role of the girl.  Even Glen Campbell was fine as La Beouf.  It has Robert Duvall and other great character actors.  The scenery is gorgeous, as it was filmed in the mountainous area of Ouray, Colorado. 

But the first film, rated G, though it's unbelievably inappropriate for kids, is basically a comedy.  A weird one, but with a kind of happy ending, and an exit by Wayne that is delightful.  I figure the Coens couldn't stand such a sunshiny take on such a tale, and they wanted to do THE DARK VERSION.  I give them credit for succeeding in that goal.  And their casting is terrific, with Jeff Bridges an even more delapidated version of Rooster Cogburn, and Matt Damon very funny and touching as La Beouf.  Hailee Seinfeld is good as the girl, and everyone supports that cast.  The big shift is that in this film the landscape is harsh and unforgiving instead of beautiful, and the people in it are at it's mercy.  It's the Coen Brothers take on randomness and fate.  So the girl loses her arm from the rattlesnake bite, and never marries, and when she searches for Cogburn years later he's already dead.  As an adult, she is rigid and dried up.  There are signs that she could become that woman in both movies, but ending with a kind of unrequited love and failure is ironic, because a lot of people died for her to avenge her father, and she has not gone on to marry, have kids and be reconciled with her lot in life as the viewer expects.

So the two films become a kind of Rashomon test:  the first is created out of a basic optimism about life and the second a pessimism.  The same scenes, seen through different lenses, made me reflect differently on what the story means.  The Wayne version says that a girl with true grit can find the father figure she deserves, and he will not disappoint.  The Coen version says that some wounds cannot be filled, and striving to do so leaves a lot of collateral damage.  In both, the girl is the enigma, headstrong to the point of suicide, naive yet nasty in her need to see a man hanged, a man down on his luck, a drunk, a pitiful hurt thing himself.  She's not really likeable, and the Coens remind us of that, whereas the early film glosses over that fact.  Pick your poison, as Cogburn would say.

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

Speaking of Russell Crowe, a little known gem, "Last Three Days" is exciting and a great action/adventure film.  Crowe stars as a junior college professor whose world is turned upside down when his wife is arrested for murder.  The movie hides whether she is innocent or not, which I liked, and concentrates on how the wife, played so well by Elizabeth Banks, Crowe and their young son adjust to their new reality.  I strongly felt how being at the wrong place at the wrong time, or a series of coincidences, or fate can pull the rug out from under you.  Have you ever had a car accident and realized that if you had killed someone or badly injured them your life would be "before and after"?  Most of us have had someone we love taken away suddenly:  a heart attack, suicide, accident, whatever.  This movie makes you FEEL how precious life is, and how tenuous.

The plot is terrific, with an intricate plan hatched by the husband and not shared with us, so we are on pins and needles watching it play out.  The supporting actors include Liam Neeson, as a man the husband quizzes who escaped jail seven times, Brian Dennehy as the husband's father, and Bryan Cranston as one of the detectives investigating who feels in his skin something is wrong when the wife is convicted and sentenced to life, but he can't get a handle on it.  The pace is perfect, and the film picks up speed as the escape and chase do.

It's a small film, but gripping and a lesson on terrific, non-showy acting.  And it sticks with you, as you go about your ordinary day that could turn dark if luck isn't with you.

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

Then there's Russell Crowe.  Okay, I have a thing about him.  I've been ridiculed, teased and worse.  But at least he's a great actor as well as being, to me, mighty sexy.  But even with Crowe, I don't see everything he's in.  I'm not totally irrational.  But I do love one of his movies that you'd think no red blooded girly girl would tolerate:  "Master and Commander".  No, I haven't read any of the book series, any more than I would read a Tom Clancy book.  I have my gender identification intact.  But "Master and Commander" is engaging, well-written and edited and terrifically acted.  I found myself fascinated by life on a boat in the seventeen hundreds, as well as battle stations, pirates, and the whole nine yards.  Peter Weir is a great director, and here, as in "Witness" and others of his films, he has pulled us into a foreign world in time, place and thinking and made it come fully alive.  Crowe as the captain and Paul Bettany as his best friend and physician on board with a Darwinian taste for describing the exotic species of plants and animals they encounter, are pitch perfect together.  The music they play is exquisite, and their harmony passionately fought for over personality differences.  The man of action and the man of contemplation are atune.  Crowe learned to play the violin for this role.  One of the subplots involves two young boys, living on the sea away from their families for years, and those actors are riveting as well.  It was as if Jane Austen's brother's life was finally made manifest for those of us centuries later.  I've seen this movie probably eight or ten times, and I find new delights in it each time I watch it.  I wish I'd seen it in the theater on a big screen, but then, I assumed I'd hate it.  Instead, I see the beauty of that long ago life option, and the fellowship and depth of feeling these sailors shared.  I'm not ready to enlist on a submarine, but I respect the life and understand it's appeal at last.

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

"All the President's Men" is a great film.  The fact that the actual events happened long ago does not diminish the tension and excitement of the drama.  It stars two amazing actors as Woodward and Bernstein, Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman, but it is glowing with small parts that shine with vividness and intelligence:  Jane Alexander as the secretary nervous about revealing what she knows, Jason Robards Jr as Ben Bradlee, and many others.  Somehow, though we know how it all ended, we are fearful, jumpy, on edge, as if this has never happened before, and it hadn't.  Physically, the humor in Redford's and Hoffman's casting is delightful.  They are both consummate comedians, so they make us like them and root for them by convincing us they are not superstars, but young eager beavers out for the story that will get them noticed.  The pacing and editing is impeccable.  The strength of the film is the two stars' movements, more than dialogue.  They are watchable and we understand everything from their body movements.  The dialogue could almost be absent.  This is like the best of silent filmmaking.  And how perfect, because the movie thematically is about what isn't said, what shouldn't have been said (on tape) and what must be said.  You can't silence our heroes, or scare them into silence, and we look longingly at this film and wonder where that integrity has gone in journalism.  Now there is news, prepackaged and outsourced from corporations.  Then, important stories were followed up and tenaciously, doggedly pursued.  It's a nostalgic film.

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

Last night my husband and I watched again Steven Speilberg's "War of the Worlds".  We both love the one from the 1950's, but this version is a lot of fun, and keeps the basic premise and moral structure of the first, with Morgan Freeman voicing over, instead of Sir Cedric Hardwicke.  Instead of the main character being a elite scientist (from Cal Tech) in this one he's a dock worker, an ordinary guy, and instead of a romance, he has the chance to bond with his two kids from his previous marriage, who are now living an upper middle class life, and look down upon him as a loser.  The class angle is nice, and after all, who, these days would listen to a scientist?  In congress, anything that smacks of scientific thought is considered subversive.

Tom Cruise as Ray is in his element here, and Dakota Fanning is terrific as his ten year old daughter.  I have problems with the son, Robbie, who doesn't have any back story for why he's so hostile, but more importantly, why he wants to join the army and get himself killed.  That he survives stretches our credulity.  If you think about some of what the alien machines do, it makes no sense, but Speilberg keeps us on the edge of our seats and not overthinking the plot.  Tim Robbins is great as a guy gone psycho, a kind of amped up variation of Robbie.  But the movie belongs to Cruise and Fanning, and they make us really feel for them and need them to survive.

The music by John Williams is perfect and the sets and people's faces are as well.  In the end, it is Ray's mechanical expertise that saves him, his daughter and a lot of people caught up in a machine.  So the working class guy is what's needed in this version, and he wins over his kids by his tenacity.  He is going to keep his promise to get them to their mother, and he does.  A Speilberg theme throughout his oeuvre, and the right one for our fractured, divorced times.  The world is saved by nature, not science, and that echoes H.G. Wells to a tee.  This is not a movie for kids, and it is disturbing.  But I found myself thinking of what I would do if a big earthquake hit, or flooding or some natural disaster.  Could I remain human and compassionate in the face of my fear, as Ray does?

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

One of my all-time favorite movies is "People Will Talk" with Cary Grant, Jeanne Crain and Hume Cromyn.  Made in the fifties, it has a nice liberal progressive tone to it, and the sentiments are right up my alley.  Cary Grant plays a OBGYN teaching at a university and with a private clinic as well.  He also conducts the student orchestra at the university.  Another professor is jealous of his popularity with students, and is manipulating appearances to get him fired from the faculty.  He focuses on Dr. Pretorious' assistant, a man named Shunderson.  Along with this plot line is a romance between the doctor and a young woman who faints in an anatomy class, goes to his clinic, discovers she is pregnant, tries to kill herself, and to keep her alive, he tells her the test was mixed up and she is not pregnant.  Concerned for her, when she leaves to live with her father, Pretorious visits them, and realizes he's in love with her and she with him, and they elope.  After several months married, she discovers she's pregnant, and then he tells her, in effect, it isn't his baby but he will love it as his.  After being reassured that he didn't marry her to rescue her, she is more than ever devoted to him, and champions him against the professor with the grudge. 

I may not seem like I've left anything out, but there is plenty of plot untold, and the story of Shunderson, which gives the movie it's surprise and moral integrity.  As an example of what a doctor's Hippocratic oath should be all about, this film is worth it's weight in gold.  But it is also humorous, tender, and thought provoking.  This film is unforgettable.

Pass the Popcorn: Movies from where I Sit

Last night my Buddhist teacher was here, and we watched the documentary "Buck".  It's one of my favorite documentaries ever, and I delighted in sharing with her the story of a man who is extraordinary and serves as an exemplum of wholesome mind and heart.  Buck Brannihan is a horse trainer, and the model for the film "The Horse Whisperer" starring Robert Redford.  He had an abusive childhood as a forced child rope trick star with his older brother.  When their mother died, the father became more violent, until a Deputy Sherriff took the boys away to a foster family, where the parents were so loving and understanding that Buck's whole life slowly turned around.  He had several mentors in the horse training business, and he is a shining example to many owners and trainers.  He travels the country nine months of the year, then is home with his wife and four dogs the rest of the time.  They have three grown daughters. 

The film takes its time showing clips from Buck's childhood, interspursed with pieces of his workshops, and interviews with him and with his wife, youngest daughter and various friends and even Robert Redford.  He is a man who has demons, but he has chosen to not be a violent man, and fortunately he has had other gentle models of manhood.  His compassion and kindness with horses is limitless.  He respects these beings as if they were human.  He guides them away from fear and toward a trusting relationship with their riders.  I cry every time I see this film, because this man represents how we can overcome what we were born into and choose a better life.  And he spreads his gospel of compassion and respect for all beings everywhere he travels.  He chooses to remain in the present:  as he says, "You can't be in two places in one moment and I want to be in the present, not the past."  He's a gentle man, a kind man, a friend to all beings.