Scan and Pan
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Nim's Island
Nim (Abigail Breslin) is a girl who lives on an island in the South Pacific with only her scientist father (Gerard Butler) and her animal friends as companions. After her father goes missing while conducting research at sea, Nim emails adventurer Alex Rover (also Butler) for help, but Rover is only a fictional character created by novelist Alexandra Rover (Jodie Foster), an agoraphobic and obsessive-compulsive who's urged by her own fictional creation to venture outside her home to the South Pacific to answer Nim's pleas for help.
Directors Mark Levin and Jennifer Flackett, who previously collaborated on Little Manhattan with Levin as director and Flackett as writer, deliver a playful and laugh out loud adventure comedy with light fantasy trimmings. It's a successful throwback to the kind of live action family films Hollywood used to do so well once upon a time. Yes, that means it's fair to call it predictable and lightweight, but it's also funny enough and short enough to provide above average entertainment that the entire family can enjoy together. I enjoyed it on the escapist level it's intended to be taken at.
The screenplay by Levin, Flackett, Joseph Kwong (Growing Pains) and Paula Mazur is based on the novel by Wendy Orr, and if the plot summaries of the novel I've perused are accurate it appears to be a reasonably faithful adaptation.
Cinematographer Stuart Dryburgh (Bridget Jones's Diary, Æon Flux) provides the film with an appropriately bright and polished look, while production designer Barry Robison (Wedding Crashers, Rendition) creates a believable world for the characters to inhabit. The score by Patrick Doyle (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Eragon) is right at home with the material. Visual effects supervisor Scott Gordon makes good use of CGI to bring Nim's animal companions to life as wonderfully realized characters in their own right.
What really makes the story work as well as it does is its cast. Breslin, nominated for Best Supporting Actress for her performance in 2006's Little Miss Sunshine, once again proves to be a capable and charming young actress who can carry a film and make you believe in her character. Foster takes on a rare comedic role and does just fine with the lighter material, also displaying a good knack for physical comedy when required. I disliked Butler's obnoxious performance in 300, but he's in good form here as both Nim's loving father and the fictional adventurer that exists inside the head of his creator. He's especially good as the latter, and one wishes they could make a spinoff film about that character. The principal actors all have nice chemistry with each other.
Also good are Michael Carman as the captain of a cruise ship, Anthony Simcoe as his first mate, Maddison Joyce as a young boy passenger on the ship who encounters Nim, Peter Callan and Rhonda Doyle as the boy's parents, and Jay Laga'aia as a helicopter pilot who helps Foster's character get to the island.
While Nim's Island hardly breaks new ground, it's an effective piece of family entertainment that succeeds at what it's trying to accomplish.
[3.5 out of 5 stars]
If the definition of a good family film is one that successfully appeals to all members of a family, no matter their ages, then this fun little picture meets the qualifications to be labeled a good family film.
Nim (Abigail Breslin) is a girl who lives on an island in the South Pacific with only her scientist father (Gerard Butler) and her animal friends as companions. After her father goes missing while conducting research at sea, Nim emails adventurer Alex Rover (also Butler) for help, but Rover is only a fictional character created by novelist Alexandra Rover (Jodie Foster), an agoraphobic and obsessive-compulsive who's urged by her own fictional creation to venture outside her home to the South Pacific to answer Nim's pleas for help.
Directors Mark Levin and Jennifer Flackett, who previously collaborated on Little Manhattan with Levin as director and Flackett as writer, deliver a playful and laugh out loud adventure comedy with light fantasy trimmings. It's a successful throwback to the kind of live action family films Hollywood used to do so well once upon a time. Yes, that means it's fair to call it predictable and lightweight, but it's also funny enough and short enough to provide above average entertainment that the entire family can enjoy together. I enjoyed it on the escapist level it's intended to be taken at.
The screenplay by Levin, Flackett, Joseph Kwong (Growing Pains) and Paula Mazur is based on the novel by Wendy Orr, and if the plot summaries of the novel I've perused are accurate it appears to be a reasonably faithful adaptation.
Cinematographer Stuart Dryburgh (Bridget Jones's Diary, Æon Flux) provides the film with an appropriately bright and polished look, while production designer Barry Robison (Wedding Crashers, Rendition) creates a believable world for the characters to inhabit. The score by Patrick Doyle (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Eragon) is right at home with the material. Visual effects supervisor Scott Gordon makes good use of CGI to bring Nim's animal companions to life as wonderfully realized characters in their own right.
What really makes the story work as well as it does is its cast. Breslin, nominated for Best Supporting Actress for her performance in 2006's Little Miss Sunshine, once again proves to be a capable and charming young actress who can carry a film and make you believe in her character. Foster takes on a rare comedic role and does just fine with the lighter material, also displaying a good knack for physical comedy when required. I disliked Butler's obnoxious performance in 300, but he's in good form here as both Nim's loving father and the fictional adventurer that exists inside the head of his creator. He's especially good as the latter, and one wishes they could make a spinoff film about that character. The principal actors all have nice chemistry with each other.
Also good are Michael Carman as the captain of a cruise ship, Anthony Simcoe as his first mate, Maddison Joyce as a young boy passenger on the ship who encounters Nim, Peter Callan and Rhonda Doyle as the boy's parents, and Jay Laga'aia as a helicopter pilot who helps Foster's character get to the island.
While Nim's Island hardly breaks new ground, it's an effective piece of family entertainment that succeeds at what it's trying to accomplish.
[3.5 out of 5 stars]
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Maltese Falcon
It has long been one of my favorite films from the classic era of Hollywood. It's also widely considered to be the first film noir, and many of the conventions of the genre are established in it. Its quality is even more remarkable an achievement when one considers that it's John Huston's first film as a director.
Based on the influential 1930 novel by Dashiell Hammett, Huston's Oscar nominated screenplay is unusually faithful to its literary source for a Hollywood production. He essentially condenses it for the screen and removes material deemed inappropriate by the Production Code--mostly sexual content, particularly the homosexuality of several characters (although the film still manages to imply much of it).
As directorial debuts go, it's a great one, but it was only second best in 1941, which happened to be the same year that Orson Welles' Citizen Kane was released. Both The Maltese Falcon and Citizen Kane were nominated for Best Picture, although only Welles earned a Best Director nomination. Neither film won (nor did Welles win as a director).
The production values are high across the board, with the moody cinematography of Arthur Edeson (Frankenstein, Mutiny on the Bounty), the well-designed sets of Robert Haas (Knute Rockne All American) and the score by Adolph Deutsch (They Drive by Night, High Sierra) standing out.
As is usually the case with a great film, one of its many strengths is its cast. Humphrey Bogart is absolutely perfect as private eye Sam Spade. Something I like about Bogart's Spade is what a complete bastard he can be. He's very much an anti-hero. My favorite line comes when Spade slaps Joel Cairo and then tells him, "When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it." Then he slaps him a few more times for good measure. He epitomizes the tough guy detective, and one can justifiably say that his performance here is the blueprint for the character type in future film noirs.
Bogart got the job only after George Raft turned down the role because he didn't want to work with a first time director. Ironically, Raft would later turn down the lead role in Casablanca, which again went to Bogart, who turned in another memorable performance. How much different would the careers of both actors have been if Raft had accepted both roles?
The rest of the cast is every bit as good, including Mary Astor as manipulative femme fatale Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Peter Lorre as the effeminate Cairo, veteran stage actor Sydney Greenstreet in his film debut as the Fat Man (which earned him a nomination for Best Supporting Actor), Lee Patrick as Spade's secretary Effie, Jerome Cowan as Spade's ill-fated partner, Gladys George as the partner's wife and Spade's lover, and Elisha Cook Jr. as the Fat Man's boy toy and hot-headed gunman Wilmer.
In 1989, the Library of Congress' National Film Registry placed this film on its list of "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant films". If one was to compile a list of films worthy of being seen before you die, I'd argue strongly for the inclusion of The Maltese Falcon. "The stuff that dreams are made of", indeed.
It's of interesting note that the film is actually the third adaptation of the novel. In this case, the third time really is the charm. The first adaptation is 1931's The Maltese Falcon with Ricardo Cortez as Spade and Bebe Daniels as Brigid. The second is 1936's Satan Met a Lady, a much looser adaptation done as a comedy, with Warren William and Bette Davis in the main roles (although with different names than in the novel or other films). I haven't seen the 1931 version, something I should rectify soon, because it's currently available on DVD. While the 1936 film isn't a classic, I do enjoy it for its more screwball aspects and Davis having fun as a femme fatale.
I think my next re-watch will be The Thin Man, another adaptation of a Hammett novel.
Keeping with the theme of re-watching DVDs in my collection, I turned my attention to the 1941 version of The Maltese Falcon on Saturday night.
It has long been one of my favorite films from the classic era of Hollywood. It's also widely considered to be the first film noir, and many of the conventions of the genre are established in it. Its quality is even more remarkable an achievement when one considers that it's John Huston's first film as a director.
Based on the influential 1930 novel by Dashiell Hammett, Huston's Oscar nominated screenplay is unusually faithful to its literary source for a Hollywood production. He essentially condenses it for the screen and removes material deemed inappropriate by the Production Code--mostly sexual content, particularly the homosexuality of several characters (although the film still manages to imply much of it).
As directorial debuts go, it's a great one, but it was only second best in 1941, which happened to be the same year that Orson Welles' Citizen Kane was released. Both The Maltese Falcon and Citizen Kane were nominated for Best Picture, although only Welles earned a Best Director nomination. Neither film won (nor did Welles win as a director).
The production values are high across the board, with the moody cinematography of Arthur Edeson (Frankenstein, Mutiny on the Bounty), the well-designed sets of Robert Haas (Knute Rockne All American) and the score by Adolph Deutsch (They Drive by Night, High Sierra) standing out.
As is usually the case with a great film, one of its many strengths is its cast. Humphrey Bogart is absolutely perfect as private eye Sam Spade. Something I like about Bogart's Spade is what a complete bastard he can be. He's very much an anti-hero. My favorite line comes when Spade slaps Joel Cairo and then tells him, "When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it." Then he slaps him a few more times for good measure. He epitomizes the tough guy detective, and one can justifiably say that his performance here is the blueprint for the character type in future film noirs.
Bogart got the job only after George Raft turned down the role because he didn't want to work with a first time director. Ironically, Raft would later turn down the lead role in Casablanca, which again went to Bogart, who turned in another memorable performance. How much different would the careers of both actors have been if Raft had accepted both roles?
The rest of the cast is every bit as good, including Mary Astor as manipulative femme fatale Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Peter Lorre as the effeminate Cairo, veteran stage actor Sydney Greenstreet in his film debut as the Fat Man (which earned him a nomination for Best Supporting Actor), Lee Patrick as Spade's secretary Effie, Jerome Cowan as Spade's ill-fated partner, Gladys George as the partner's wife and Spade's lover, and Elisha Cook Jr. as the Fat Man's boy toy and hot-headed gunman Wilmer.
In 1989, the Library of Congress' National Film Registry placed this film on its list of "culturally, historically or aesthetically significant films". If one was to compile a list of films worthy of being seen before you die, I'd argue strongly for the inclusion of The Maltese Falcon. "The stuff that dreams are made of", indeed.
It's of interesting note that the film is actually the third adaptation of the novel. In this case, the third time really is the charm. The first adaptation is 1931's The Maltese Falcon with Ricardo Cortez as Spade and Bebe Daniels as Brigid. The second is 1936's Satan Met a Lady, a much looser adaptation done as a comedy, with Warren William and Bette Davis in the main roles (although with different names than in the novel or other films). I haven't seen the 1931 version, something I should rectify soon, because it's currently available on DVD. While the 1936 film isn't a classic, I do enjoy it for its more screwball aspects and Davis having fun as a femme fatale.
I think my next re-watch will be The Thin Man, another adaptation of a Hammett novel.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
The Ruins
Two young American couples (Jonathan Tucker and Jena Malone, Shawn Ashmore and Laura Ramsey) on vacation in Mexico meet a German tourist (Joe Anderson) who tells them that he knows of an archaeological dig at newly discovered ruins in the jungle. Looking for some more excitement before they return home, the couples and their new friend travel to the ruins but discover a little more excitement than they bargained for.
Fashion photographer turned director of television commercials Carter Smith makes his feature film debut, and fails in just about every way possible. If he understands the concept of generating suspense, his flat direction of every scene doesn't show it. No suspense, no horror and no entertainment value sums up my experience of this film. Take away the ample gore and there's nothing at all horrific here except how awful the production as a whole is. It's like one of those horrible films the Sci Fi Channel is notorious for broadcasting, only with more gore and bad words. Same level of badness, though.
Scott B. Smith (A Simple Plan) adapts his own novel into an over-simplified and predictable screenplay with paper-thin characters and dialog that is frequently laughable. The ending itself is a cop-out compared to the bleak ending of the novel. It's not often that the original writer deserves some of the blame for how a film adaptation turns out. This is one of those times.
The talents of noted cinematographer Darius Khondji (City of Lost Children, Se7en) are absolutely wasted here, as director Smith wants everything lit as bright and flat as possible. Khondji complies, but it's nothing that any average cinematographer couldn't have done just as well.
The cast is adequate to realizing the paper-thin characterizations, which is a kind way of saying not very adequate in terms of quality. The biggest disappointment is Malone, who quickly gets on your nerves and stays there. The only other actor I'm familiar with is Ashmore, whose work as Iceman in the X-Men films showed more ability than is on display here. I'm going to take a stab and say the inexperienced director was a factor here as well.
As the tourists in the film discovered too late, The Ruins are best avoided. Enter at your own peril.
[1 out of 5 stars]
It's hard being a horror film fan some days. You have to see a lot of chaff to get to the occasional good stuff, and sometimes it seems like filmmakers aren't even trying to make something good. This film is a good example of that.
Two young American couples (Jonathan Tucker and Jena Malone, Shawn Ashmore and Laura Ramsey) on vacation in Mexico meet a German tourist (Joe Anderson) who tells them that he knows of an archaeological dig at newly discovered ruins in the jungle. Looking for some more excitement before they return home, the couples and their new friend travel to the ruins but discover a little more excitement than they bargained for.
Fashion photographer turned director of television commercials Carter Smith makes his feature film debut, and fails in just about every way possible. If he understands the concept of generating suspense, his flat direction of every scene doesn't show it. No suspense, no horror and no entertainment value sums up my experience of this film. Take away the ample gore and there's nothing at all horrific here except how awful the production as a whole is. It's like one of those horrible films the Sci Fi Channel is notorious for broadcasting, only with more gore and bad words. Same level of badness, though.
Scott B. Smith (A Simple Plan) adapts his own novel into an over-simplified and predictable screenplay with paper-thin characters and dialog that is frequently laughable. The ending itself is a cop-out compared to the bleak ending of the novel. It's not often that the original writer deserves some of the blame for how a film adaptation turns out. This is one of those times.
The talents of noted cinematographer Darius Khondji (City of Lost Children, Se7en) are absolutely wasted here, as director Smith wants everything lit as bright and flat as possible. Khondji complies, but it's nothing that any average cinematographer couldn't have done just as well.
The cast is adequate to realizing the paper-thin characterizations, which is a kind way of saying not very adequate in terms of quality. The biggest disappointment is Malone, who quickly gets on your nerves and stays there. The only other actor I'm familiar with is Ashmore, whose work as Iceman in the X-Men films showed more ability than is on display here. I'm going to take a stab and say the inexperienced director was a factor here as well.
As the tourists in the film discovered too late, The Ruins are best avoided. Enter at your own peril.
[1 out of 5 stars]
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Heston/Touch of Evil/Murder, My Sweet
The only Heston film that I have on DVD is Touch of Evil, which I re-watched Sunday night. Now Touch of Evil is an interesting topic on its own. It was a B-movie that in the hands of director Orson Welles became the last great film noir of the classic era, and it wasn't until Roman Polanski made his 1974 neo-noir Chinatown that another classic came along, although one could argue that Jean-Luc Godard's 1965 classic Alphaville had elements of noir in it.
And even the greatness of Touch of Evil was partly obscured after the studio (Universal) took the film away from Welles in post-production, bringing in Harry Keller to direct some new scenes and editing it without Welles' input. It was still a good film, but it wasn't until much later that one was able to fully appreciate just how good it was. Welles left a detailed 58-page memo about how the film should be edited, and in 1998 the closest thing possible to a director's cut was finally constructed according to that memo.
Walter Murch, editor of Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now, skillfully re-cut the film to Welles' specifications and allowed film lovers to see what studio hackwork had blurred for decades. Of course, even the studio version couldn't hide Russell Metty's starkly beautiful black-and-white cinematography or Henry Mancini's score, both of which contributed to the essential tone of the film.
Touch of Evil is a wonderfully baroque film noir with a tawdry underbelly and a surprising sense of humor that keeps it from becoming too grim. On first glance, Heston would seem to be miscast as a Mexican police official, but with the exception of a non-existent accent, he's really quite good as the straight-arrow Vargas. Of course, the real star of the film is Welles, masterfully chewing the scenery as a corrupt, racist cop from the American side of the border. With much padding to add to his physical bulk, Welles literally and metaphorically throws his weight around as both actor and director.
The stellar cast also includes Janet Leigh, Joseph Calleia, Akim Tamiroff, Ray Collins, Dennis Weaver, Mort Mills, Marlene Dietrich, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Joseph Cotten and Mercedes McCambridge in a brief but memorable cameo. It's the kind of film that could only have been made by the Hollywood of the past, and Heston is an essential part of it.
I recently also re-watched one of my other favorite classic noirs, 1944's Murder, My Sweet. Based on Raymond Chandler's novel, Farewell, My Lovely, it was the first screen appearance of Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe. Director Edward Dmytryk (who later testified against the film's producer, Adrian Scott, before the House Committee on Un-American Activities) provides one of the truest adaptations of Chandler, filled with the seamy atmosphere of Los Angeles in bygone days captured by the moody cinematography of Harry J. Wild.
Marlowe is portrayed by Dick Powell, previously known as a youthful looking star of musicals and light comedies. Certainly not an actor at the time who would be considered ideal for the role of a cynical, tough guy detective, but it's an offbeat casting choice that works very well, capturing the cynicism of Marlowe without allowing the character to become unlikable.
Marlowe has been subsequently portrayed by numerous actors over the years: Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, Philip Carey, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, Powers Boothe, James Caan and even Danny Glover. I would argue very strongly in favor of Powell being the best Marlowe of them all, with Bogart coming in a close second. Of the actors that Chandler saw in the role before his death in 1959, Powell reportedly was also his favorite.
Murder, My Sweet's cast also includes Claire Trevor as the femme fatale, Anne Shirley as her step-daughter (and Marlowe's love interest), Otto Kruger as quack/criminal Jules Amthor, and former wrestler Mike Mazurki as the dim-witted Moose Malloy, whose performances collectively add to the quality of the production.
Murder, My Sweet may take a few liberties with Chandler's novel, but it's remarkably successful at transforming the rhythms of Chandler's words into a visual form. It's pretty close to being pure Chandler in moving images. The second best screen version of a Chandler novel would be Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep in 1946, sizzling with intensity and gifted by the performances of Bogart as Marlowe and a young Lauren Bacall as the story's femme fatale.
But for my money, Murder, My Sweet and Dick Powell are still the best.
Charlton Heston. Yet another link to the old days of Hollywood is gone. His list of credits is impressive, including Dark City, The Greatest Show on Earth (winner of the Best Picture Oscar in 1952), The Ten Commandments (with his iconic performance as Moses), Touch of Evil, Ben-Hur (for which he won the Best Actor Oscar in 1959), El Cid, The Agony and the Ecstasy, and Planet of the Apes, not to forget his roles in films of more dubious quality such as Soylent Green, The Omega Man, Earthquake, and Solar Crisis. And he could even make fun of himself, as he did in Tim Burton's otherwise dismal remake of Planet of the Apes.
The only Heston film that I have on DVD is Touch of Evil, which I re-watched Sunday night. Now Touch of Evil is an interesting topic on its own. It was a B-movie that in the hands of director Orson Welles became the last great film noir of the classic era, and it wasn't until Roman Polanski made his 1974 neo-noir Chinatown that another classic came along, although one could argue that Jean-Luc Godard's 1965 classic Alphaville had elements of noir in it.
And even the greatness of Touch of Evil was partly obscured after the studio (Universal) took the film away from Welles in post-production, bringing in Harry Keller to direct some new scenes and editing it without Welles' input. It was still a good film, but it wasn't until much later that one was able to fully appreciate just how good it was. Welles left a detailed 58-page memo about how the film should be edited, and in 1998 the closest thing possible to a director's cut was finally constructed according to that memo.
Walter Murch, editor of Francis Ford Coppola's masterpiece Apocalypse Now, skillfully re-cut the film to Welles' specifications and allowed film lovers to see what studio hackwork had blurred for decades. Of course, even the studio version couldn't hide Russell Metty's starkly beautiful black-and-white cinematography or Henry Mancini's score, both of which contributed to the essential tone of the film.
Touch of Evil is a wonderfully baroque film noir with a tawdry underbelly and a surprising sense of humor that keeps it from becoming too grim. On first glance, Heston would seem to be miscast as a Mexican police official, but with the exception of a non-existent accent, he's really quite good as the straight-arrow Vargas. Of course, the real star of the film is Welles, masterfully chewing the scenery as a corrupt, racist cop from the American side of the border. With much padding to add to his physical bulk, Welles literally and metaphorically throws his weight around as both actor and director.
The stellar cast also includes Janet Leigh, Joseph Calleia, Akim Tamiroff, Ray Collins, Dennis Weaver, Mort Mills, Marlene Dietrich, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Joseph Cotten and Mercedes McCambridge in a brief but memorable cameo. It's the kind of film that could only have been made by the Hollywood of the past, and Heston is an essential part of it.
I recently also re-watched one of my other favorite classic noirs, 1944's Murder, My Sweet. Based on Raymond Chandler's novel, Farewell, My Lovely, it was the first screen appearance of Chandler's private eye Philip Marlowe. Director Edward Dmytryk (who later testified against the film's producer, Adrian Scott, before the House Committee on Un-American Activities) provides one of the truest adaptations of Chandler, filled with the seamy atmosphere of Los Angeles in bygone days captured by the moody cinematography of Harry J. Wild.
Marlowe is portrayed by Dick Powell, previously known as a youthful looking star of musicals and light comedies. Certainly not an actor at the time who would be considered ideal for the role of a cynical, tough guy detective, but it's an offbeat casting choice that works very well, capturing the cynicism of Marlowe without allowing the character to become unlikable.
Marlowe has been subsequently portrayed by numerous actors over the years: Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, Philip Carey, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, Powers Boothe, James Caan and even Danny Glover. I would argue very strongly in favor of Powell being the best Marlowe of them all, with Bogart coming in a close second. Of the actors that Chandler saw in the role before his death in 1959, Powell reportedly was also his favorite.
Murder, My Sweet's cast also includes Claire Trevor as the femme fatale, Anne Shirley as her step-daughter (and Marlowe's love interest), Otto Kruger as quack/criminal Jules Amthor, and former wrestler Mike Mazurki as the dim-witted Moose Malloy, whose performances collectively add to the quality of the production.
Murder, My Sweet may take a few liberties with Chandler's novel, but it's remarkably successful at transforming the rhythms of Chandler's words into a visual form. It's pretty close to being pure Chandler in moving images. The second best screen version of a Chandler novel would be Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep in 1946, sizzling with intensity and gifted by the performances of Bogart as Marlowe and a young Lauren Bacall as the story's femme fatale.
But for my money, Murder, My Sweet and Dick Powell are still the best.
