31 March 2005

Chaplin on charlie


The other day I saw my very first Charlie Chaplin film. In my ignorance, I had never imagined that his films would appeal to anyone from my generation, or indeed the one that preceded it, so I was pleasantly surprised by the warmth, humour and intelligence that appeared before me on the screen.

Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times (1936)

I tend to avoid slapstick because most things that a human can do can be tuned to perfection or wildly exaggerated in cartoons or in computer animation. Unless a filmmaker is aiming for realism, or has actors whose faces portray the finest nuances of mood, there is no significant artistic reason – and budget isn’t artistic – why that filmmaker shouldn’t make an animated film. Perhaps an exception can be made for genuine stuntmen and martial artists like Jackie Chan, whose work astounds because he persistently stretches himself to physical extremes.

Most slapstick seems contrived. What’s Up, Doc? (Bogdanovich, 1972) didn’t bring a smile to my face, but then again, there would be cause for concern if a film starring Barbra Streisand did elicit that reaction. Home Alone (Columbus, 1990) was funny, but mainly because the viewer likes to see the bad guys getting punished for picking on a defenceless kid – the punishment was inventive, but the spectacle was fairly straightforward. The work of the Farrelly Brothers amuses me, but more because the dialogue is funny than because the characters do silly things or are put in farcical situations. It’s often best to leave slapstick for the lowbrow morons who sit down to watch home video compilation shows featuring people who hurt themselves accidentally.

But Chaplin can move. There is an elegance to his antics that is missing from most slapstick. In Modern Times (Chaplin, 1936), he roller-skates in a department store, prances balletically around a factory, and runs wild on a generous dose of cocaine (that he didn’t mean to take). The highlight of the film, however, is his famous ‘nonsense song’, the only time in Chaplin’s career that the audience is subjected to the Little Tramp’s voice. It isn’t a triumph for its novelty value alone: his singing voice is funny, the way he moves is funny, and his facial expressions are funny. There is a difference between a performer and a bumbling idiot. Chaplin was a performer, and we need more like him.




12 March 2005

Jack Nicholson


Jack Nicholson is my favourite actor. He might not be the best actor on the planet (De Niro, perhaps?), but he is colourful, he has integrity, and he is far more versatile than most people give him credit for. (Most people just see the eyebrows and the grin, and never explore his more interesting films.)

Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest (1975)

Out of sheer fanaticism, I have sat through 35 of Jack's films. Of the 22 that I haven't seen, there are very few titles that the layman will recognise. So, with pretension to being something of an expert, I thought I'd list ten that I think everyone should see:

Five Easy Pieces (1970)
Jack’s best role, and because I like Jack so much, it’s my favourite Jack movie, even if the story of One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest has a more obvious appeal. Jack plays the man who doesn’t belong, better than he does in any other film.


One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
McMurphy vs. Ratched is the greatest character conflict of any film ever made. This is a wild and unpredictable Jack, but also one who acts well and brings forth emotional flavour from the source material.

Chinatown (1974)
Intricate plot, cool noir-ish style, attention to detail, Jack being cool and vulnerable at the same time in a serious movie… this is as good as it gets, not that phoney James L Brooks trash he made with Helen Hunt.

The
King of Marvin Gardens (1972)
For hardcore Jack fans only, this isn’t crowd-pleasing iconic ‘Here’s Johnny’ hysteria. This is a thought-provoking character-driven art house film that deserves far more recognition than it has received.

The
Last Detail (1973)
Combine the wild and unpredictable Jack with a razor sharp Robert Towne (Chinatown) screenplay and this is what you get. Jack is almost as funny and vociferous as he is in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

About Schmidt (2002)
Character deviation for the great man here, proving he can play an old loser as well as he plays a young rascal. Career-wise, this was a step in the right direction.

The
Pledge (2001)
Another good recent role. A solid thriller without any superficial nonsense, this film focuses on Jack in a darker and more subdued role than those to which he is accustomed.

Anger Management (2003)
Stupid and contrived, but extremely funny. Jack lets rip in this one, working his inventive lexicon and facial quirks to full effect. Jack owns this movie: Sandler looks bland by comparison.

Carnal Knowledge (1971)
Male chauvinist slimeball Jack in its infancy. (For more of that, see pretty much any of his eighties movies.) While his character is entertaining on the surface, a sad emptiness lurks beneath. A strong early performance.

The
Shining (1980)
The film is as good a showcase of Kubrick’s imagery as any, but it’s not as scary as people make out. The blood in the elevator, the crumbling old woman, and other bizarre images are frightening. Jack is good at being insane, but he’s Jack, so it’s more funny than scary.




01 March 2005

Lame Academy

While I am not surprised that Million Dollar Baby (2004) took Best Directing and Best Picture at the Oscars this year, I can’t conceal my disappointment at Sideways (2004) having to settle for Best Adapted Screenplay, or indeed at Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) having to settle for Best Original Screenplay.

Jim Taylor and Alexander Payne won Oscars for writing Sideways (2004)

To me, there is no logic behind the Academy’s voting. A screenplay is a blueprint for a film, a set of instructions that, if followed properly, reap the visual reward imagined by the screenwriter. Any director worth his salt – and without exception, all directors who are given millions of dollars to make a Hollywood movie – are capable of using actors, cameras, and editing to execute these instructions, of realising the screenwriter’s vision.

Therefore, for the Best Picture award and the Best Writing award to be won by different movies, the message to the world is that, for better or for worse, the director of either movie did something out of the ordinary with the blueprint. Now, if Best Picture had been won by a film with remarkable special effects, camerawork, and acting beyond the scope of the screenplay, I would be able to follow such a judgement. I would understand, for example, if a Star Wars film ever won Best Picture but failed to win Best Writing. Lucas’s contributions to the visual art of filmmaking are quite astonishing, and should be recognised in this way in spite of his awful dialogue.

But when Best Picture is won by a film that isn’t a spectacular feast for the eyes, where the (admittedly very capable) director was just going through the motions of a character drama, it becomes apparent that logic has escaped the Academy. Of course, Million Dollar Baby is a very good film, but it is no better a specimen of a film than its screenplay is a specimen of a screenplay. It is an insult to Alexander Payne’s ability as a director that Sideways failed to win Best Picture despite having the best blueprint from which to make a picture. It is a huge compliment that Clint Eastwood’s film was considered the better of the two, despite being worked from a blueprint that the Academy considers inferior. Neither the magnitude of Payne’s insult, nor that of Eastwood’s compliment, is logical or deserved.