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.

A slow burn of pure terror (spoilers included)

 

(SPOILER ALERT)

I was having trouble deciding whether to watch this brilliant Danish horror film, because I couldn't tell if it was sub-titled, or dubbed. Full disclosure, I am a bit of a snob when it comes to dubbing, and, in the words of the great Laemmle Twin arthouse theater in Los Angeles, I am "not afraid of subtitles". Turns out, that is one of the things that makes this film so effective: the two couples are from two different countries -- Holland and Denmark -- and, since neither speaks the other's native language, they communicate almost entirely in English.

And therein, as Hamlet would say, lies the "rub". Miscommunication lies at the heart of the story here, or, at least, if one couple understood better what the other was saying they might have not only extricated themselves, and their daughter, from a fate literally worse than death, but might have also avoided the somewhat horrifying social awkwardness that almost steals the show, here.

A couple from Denmark are vacationing with their daughter in Tuscany, and meet another couple (with an odd son) from Holland who are staying at the same Pensione or Villa. Really, things start going "bad" from the very beginning, as the Holland couple are just strange, and their son is unable to speak properly due to a tongue having been malformed (or cut out?). As one reviewer pointed out, the lengths to which the Danish couple will go to accommodate -- that is not embarrass themselves socially -- the weird Holland couple provides a horrifying reality that nearly overshadows the truly gruesome nature of the "big reveal" in the end.

For example, after being invited to stay the weekend with the Holland couple, upon their return, the Danish couple feel like they can't refuse. They say to one another, "how bad could it be?" Turns out, very bad. After making their way over eight hours by car (and Car Ferry) to the Holland couple's low-rent house in the Dutch woods, they are subjected to various social affronts, including having to watch the Holland couple do a very sexual dance in a sketchy Roadhouse (like something out of a Tobe Hooper or Rob Zombie flick), and having the Danish wife experience the other couple's husband doing "number one" in the bathroom while she is taking a shower.

The plotting of Speak no Evil is so effective that, about halfway through the film, enough is enough and the Danes escape at dawn, only to return to retrieve their daughter's seemingly lost stuffed bunny. This is the classic horror movie trope where the protagonists go toward the axe-wielding villain, not away. Here, awakened, the Holland couple confronts them and puts social pressure on them to stay. Uh, oh.

From here things go downhill fast. That night the Danish father discovers a cabin where the souvenirs from previous victims -- cameras, camping equipment -- are hanging like trophies, and then comes across the Holland couple's son, Abel floating dead upside down in a hot tub. It all becomes very clear, very quickly that the Hollands are a serial killer couple, who maim and kidnap other couples' kids, and kill the adults. Within only a few minutes of the film's elapsed time, their daughter is seized and mutilated by a mysterious third stranger, and the couple are stoned to death in a lonely quarry. That's it, end of story.

Or is it? The last scene has the Holland couple, now with the dead Danish couple's tongueless daughter driving up a hill to a classic Italian villa, searching for their next victim.

Yikes.

Sort of a deconstructed "Stand by Me"

 

I am not a big fan of Blumhouse, mainly because, based on critical and fan ratings, most of their films don't seem to be very good. I have watched a few, and that is the impression that was confirmed when I did.

The Black Phone, however, is a whole nother story. Literally. Based on a short story, this unique thriller-horror entry focuses almost exclusively on the POV of the young people who are affected when the Serial Killer known as "The Grabber" is wreaking havoc on Suburban Denver in the not so recent past.

A word about the Killer. I will literally watch anything that Ethan Hawke makes, and this is no exception. Hawke can do Drama, Comedy, High Arthouse and Horror equally well. Even though I agree that Sean Penn is probably our best American actor, Hawke is probably our most versatile. Here he chews the scenery as the mask-wearing Grabber who seems just crazy enough to drive around in a "raper van" wearing a magician's top hat (and, strangely, not get noticed); and just deadly serious enough to grab young men and keep them in his basement until he is ready to kill them.

The latter is not a spoiler, as the main plot of The Black Phone concerns a young man named Finney-- very well played by Mason Thomas -- who is trying to navigate Adolescence while also trying to avoid being grabbed. Unfortunately, he is, and the heroism he shows in trying to escape is aided by a strange phone which allows him to receive calls from The Grabber's previous victims. The top notch ensemble cast of young actors and actresses, and the storyline concerning their adolescent dreams and desires layered over the riveting Silence of the Lambs style hunt for The Grabber makes for some good film-making.

Based no the POV I was reminded of the iconic Rob Reiner film "Stand By Me" based on a Stephen King (novel?) and thought that The Black Phone kind of deconstructs that film. In Reiner's film, a group of chums growing up in a rather innocent small town in Maine discover a dead body, in The Black Phone, the time and place are less innocent, and the kids basically have to save themselves. If they can.

Kudos to the various adult actors, including the always wonderful Jeremy Davies as Finney's alcoholic, child-abusive Dad. If you have never seen Davies's weird but wonderful performance in Stephen Soderbergh's Solaris, check it out. Or just check out Solaris, because it is excellent.

More atmospheric than scary. But, that's good.

 

J.A. Bayona is in the news a lot lately because he is a key figure in the new Lord of the Rings series on Amazon. Depending on your point of view (expecting to love it, expecting to hate it, etc.) that might lead you to, or push you away from, this atmospheric thriller/horror entry set in a remote area of Spain.

I had seen this before and decided to watch again, and had the same reaction. When the kid disappears, what starts as a straight-up horror film morphs into a thriller. Or does it? The conclusion (no spoilers) reminded me of why I liked it the first time. I'm not giving anything away by saying this is a "surprise ending" story, like The Sixth Sense, or The Others. But the surprise comes pretty much out of Left Field.

The framing tale involves an Orphanage in a creaky old house on the Coast of Spain. Not the sunny, Ibiza coast in the Mediterranean, but the creepy Coast farther North, I think. A young girl is adopted out of this seemingly forgotten children's home, and years later she, her husband, and their adopted son return to try to turn the former Orphanage into a home for developmentally disable children.

But, as is said, the kid disappears, and sets in motion a frantic search, months of waiting, and, eventually, the desperate, trope-y hiring of a Paranormal expert to try to determine if the ghosts of dead children are haunting the house. Think Stephen Spielberg's classic Poltergeist, but in Europe.

What happens next, as I said, would spoil it if you plan on watching. If you love ghost stories, thrillers or horror films you many or may not like this mélange of all three. I know I did.