Quotable, yes, but does The Big Lebowski really hold up?

 

I had occasion recently to reference a scene from The Coen Brothers' Pynchon-esque mystery/comedy in an interaction with my daughter. My daughter is an artist, and I was recalling to her the scene where 'artist' Maude Lebowski -- brilliantly played by a young-ish Julianne Moore -- comes flying in an odd contraption over the titular Lebowski's head, spraying paint on a canvas as female voices (which appear to be making the sounds of women orgasming) are played over loudspeakers.

Hysterical, a bit subversive (the Coens are skewering post-modern art, a la Gerhard Richter), yet somehow germane to the film's plot line. Which is, ostensibly, the rescue of the other Lebowski's trophy wife, Bunny.

Or is it?

The various moves that TBL makes in service of its relatively ordinary, dare I say noir-ish, storyline at times seem to be the point of the film. Does it really matter that Bunny has been kidnapped, or has "kidnapped herself", or is the Journey here the real reward? And, more importantly, does this bowl of late-nineties cinematic gazpacho still hold up?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

OK, perhaps I am going a bit overboard, but it is nice to have my remembered enthusiasm validated for, if not the Coen Brothers best film, at least their funniest. Either No Country for Old Men or Fargo is probably their best film. But even Barton Fink is not as funny as Lebowski. And Barton Fink is pretty funny.

Lebowski is one of those oft-quoted films, like The Godfather. Yet, it is most-oft quoted, I think, by middle-aged white men like me. So, perhaps my love of the film exists, and is echoed in a kind of Dad echo-chamber. I'm not really sure I care much. 

Why?

Let me count the ways. The late, great Ben Gazarra is porn king Jackie Treehorn, who, in classic Noir fashion slips a 'Mickey' into Lebowski's White Russian. The afore-mentioned Julianne Moore as Maude; the also Late, Great Phillip Seymour Hoffman as the sycophantic assistant to the other Lebowski. And of course, multiple Coen actor John Turturro in his steal-the-show performance as Je-sus. Oh he that nobody f's with. In retrospect, his turn is mildly racist, but, again, who cares? It is hysterically funny.

Of course, what really "ties the thing together" (see how I did that) is Oscar-winner Jeff Bridges as Jeffrey Lebowski, who cruises through the increasingly complicated and somewhat dangerous Story with the help of a constant low-grade buzz. Knowing now what we know about how great an actor Bridges is (have you seen The Old man on Hulu?) it is remarkable to look back and see him fully in character throughout the film.

You try playing a stoner/slacker/private dick. Well, if the "you" is Joaquin Phoenix in P.T. Anderson's wonderful Inherent Vice, fine. That film channels Lebowski, as many have since.

And The Big Jeffrey is joined by his partners in crime: Walter -- played with scenery chewing relish by the great John Goodman -- and the nearly silent Donny played with true 'third wheel'

glee by the under-rated Steve Buscemi. These three split into singlets, and pairs, and a trio several times, perhaps at no time funnier than when Walter and Lebowski attempt to deliver the ransom money to retrieve Bunny.

They are, alas, unsuccessful. Why would they be, and the sound of the mobile phone constantly ringing adds a brilliant comedic touch for the next several scenes, kind of a like the perfect spice in the soup. If you have never seen the Amazon Prime Original show Patriot, you simply must watch Season One. The Episode entitled "John's To-Do List" uses a Blackberry (a Blackberry!) to accomplish a similarly brilliant comedic effect.

Again, channeling Lebowski.

Is it the main story and main three characters, or the many, many memorable cameos that make this such fun? I can answer that in one word: Flea. I mean, who but the Coens would have the inspiration to have the Bassist from The Red Hot Chili Peppers appear as one of the Nihilists (not Nazis) who memorably repeat "give me the money, Lebowski, Jah" like a moronic mantra. Mostly it is the wonderful Swedish actor Peter Stormare uttering one of the film's many quotable lines.

I could go on, but need to stop. And watch it again. Lord...

Troubles with a Capital "T"

 

The one sheet above says it all: a title that is a bit perplexing, although inviting, might make one wonder whether Martin McDonagh's latest effort is worth seeing. Yet the presence of two marvelous Irish actors, Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson reassures that, if nothing else, having them in the film makes it worth a watch.

That's McDonagh in a nutshell. His films are always interesting, if a bit maddening. The meta-data in HBO Max tagged this as "comedy" and "drama". McDonagh's version of "comedy" is have a few laughs on the way to a deadly serious outcome. In fact, I found myself cringing more than laughing as Farrell's character Padraic, attempts to undo the puzzle box he is given right at the outset of the film.

Two men living in a somewhat picturesque, but depressing backwater town on an island in Ireland are best mates. Until they aren't. One day Gleeson's character Colm tells Padraic that he no longer wants him as a friend. Just like that, setting in motion a freight train to a small kind of Hell that it is unstoppable as it is brilliantly plotted and acted.

To quote Edward Albee, Padraic's obsession with finding out 'what happened', and the tragic consequences that ensue, are a "historical inevitability". Of course Padraic asks, and Colm in almost gentlemanly fashion simply replies that he doesn't want Padraic as a friend anymore. Both the viewer, and Padraic can't accept that answer and must know the real reason.

Unfortunately

In the end, what starts as an almost comedic, well, "romp" would be too strong a word, ends up as a Tragedy of minor Shakespearean proportions. I won't spoil the review by saying what the reason ends up being, only to say it is very, very sad. And, I also won't spoil by saying where everything ends up, but will say that the small drama taking place in Inisherin seems to echo (in allegorical fashion?) the larger conflict taking place across the water. This is 1980s era Ireland, after all.

McDonagh is fine film-maker, which shows in the overall mise-en-scene, here. He and his DP photograph the stunning Irish landscapes with clarity and eschew the sentimentality that sometimes accompanies "small town Ireland/Wales/Scotland" films. The script and acting are all superb, with Oscar-nominated Farrell and Gleeson showing why they are two of the finest their country has to offer. Farrell's sister is ably played by Kerry Condon and the wee lad who plays the town "idiot" nearly steals the show.

But the main event here is the story -- comedy deftly transformed into tragedy -- and the character development of Padraic and Colm. 

Trampled under foot

 

Full disclosure, I am a huge fan of Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead. The only American film-maker that I think even comes close to their ingenuity and vision is Shane Carruth. Regretfully, Carruth hasn't made anything since is truly amazing Upstream Color.

So, we members of the Benson and Moorhead Marching and Shouting Society (to quote the late Vin Scully) must be content to watch their phenomenal, mind-bending films. I had actually thought that The Endless was the best film they would ever make, especially as it was followed by the middling Synchronic, which apparently showed what happens when promising film-makers meet the Hollywood System. Not good.

We had nothing to be concerned about, because Something in the Dirt is, well Something. Really something. I spent the first ten to fifteen minutes very confused about what was going on, and worrying -- it turns out, without reason -- that this was going to be a low budget Synchronic. It is not.

What Something in the Dirt is, is phenomenal. Mind-bending. Hallucinatory. Visionary. Funny has heck. All of these qualities rolled into a 115 minute tour-de-force that questions the very nature of Time and Space, Existence, Spirituality, and much, much more.

The basic plot is that a Man moves into an apartment in LA, and meets his neighbor who lives downstairs. Both characters are, as in The Endless, played by the co-directors, which, I think, is really where they are at their best. Unlike The Endless, this film concerns primarily the two Men, as they puzzle through cosmic phenomena that start occurring in the first Man's upstairs apartment.

I think I remember a scene in Ghostbusters where Bill Murray opens a closet door and it turns out to be the entrance to Hell or something. Think that, but on Acid. In this case, they open the closet door of the apartment and it appears to be a Time-Space vortex where matter and energy either do not exist, or exist to such excess that they erase everything else. Oh, and there are strange calculations written on the walls of the closet. But written by whom?

Benson and Moorhead are truly an acquired taste. But not, like some directors because they test the boundaries of "good taste" (I'm looking at you, Julia Dorcaneau). Mainly because you must be willing to take a cinematic acid trip - open to the idea that, in a film, the very nature of reality and existence can be essayed in celluloid. Or Digital, Whatever.

And some of the most interesting Indie SciFi films in recent memory are made in Los Angeles, set in LA and made by LA-based film-makers. The other one that comes to mind is the wonderful Under the Silver Lake, with Andrew Garfield. In any case, if you like your mind fully messed with, you will love Something in the Dirt. If you would rather that the story make traditional "sense", this is definitely not for you.

I loved it, though :)

All The Chairman's Women

 

The main thing that this film left me with was a profound sadness, and sense of disgust.

If you don't know what it is about, here's a quick synopsis. Harvey Weinstein, the Chairman of Miramax, sexually and verbally abused and harassed at least 82 women over the years, and was eventually brought down by journalists from the NY Times and The New Yorker. He is currently in prison and will probably spend the rest of his life in jail.

Weinstein was a monster, and She Said does an excellent job of telling -- All the President's Men style -- the thrilling story of how two intrepid NY Times reporters finally brought him down. Well, along with Ronan Farrow.

I say excellent because She Said sticks to its guns, so to speak, and focuses on the journalistic enterprise, and largely stays away from the politics of the #metoo movement. Probably good, as that pendulum swung way to far in one direction, obliterating people, institutions and much else with out much discretion.

Speaking of institutions, the most horrifying thing about Weinstein isn't Weinstein, but the corrupt Hollywood system that, like many other Patriarchal institutions, kept him in power for far too long, looked the other way when abused women spoke out, and more.

Getting back to the film, again, I like She Said because it focuses on one story: how two journalists pieced together the story of Weinstein's evil doings and (finally) obtained the on-the-record commentary that makes any big Investigative piece have its credibility. The two actresses who play the main characters are excellent, which certainly helps the cause, here.

One final word. I recently saw a documentary called The Witness about the infamous Kitty Genovese stabbing in Queens in the 1970s. It becomes clear over the course of this well-told piece that the might New York Times occasionally -- perhaps often -- gets it wrong. The filmmakers even gave Abe Rosenthal the opportunity to admit it, on camera, and he wimps out.

So, score one for journalistic heroism. Deduct a half point for the Grey Lady, who is certainly not, herself, blameless in the main.