The Road (2009)

We have always been obsessed with the idea that the world could end at any day, for any reason. But there has been a recent surge of movies all showing the apocalypse, which many feel is near at hand in the year 2012. A movie by Roland Emmerich has been made, detailing the earth's end as being a big special effects extravaganza. That is the most notable, but there are others that exist in a world where humans don't exist.

The Road is a movie about what happens after the world ends. Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee play an unnamed father and son roaming a desolate America. Something wiped out humanity as we know it, and now the pair live in fear, scrounging whatever food they can find, and hiding from people who have turned into cannibals. In a way, its a clever way of illustrating real zombies, yet these people don't lumber around, they prowl.

The movie is based on a Cormac McCarthy novel, read by me, and a novel that stands above the movie. I have read McCarthy's other adapted work, No Country For Old Men and I can say the movie stands above the book. This movie is directed by John Hillcoat, who directed The Proposition (2005) a while back. He is a good director, but he is not a great one.

The movie inhabits a metallic palette, and beautifully conveys the look of this post-apocalypse America. Mt. St. Helen's is beautifully utilized, as the pair stumble across a lake full of trees (Spirit Lake) and dead, barren trees (any tree with a close radius of the mountain). Hillcoat does a good job of using actual locations, and color grading the look, rather then going into a studio and creating the backgrounds with green screen.

Charlize Theron is featured as the Man's wife, in flashbacks of vibrant color, reminding us of a life lived long ago. She leaves, leaving the man and son to fend for themselves, but whenever the man falls into a slumber he dreams of times with her. Robert Duvall and Guy Pearce make key appearances in the film, and Garret Dillahunt makes a fantastically effective villain.

And the performance by Mortensen is a strong, courageous one. Mortensen always seem to inject humanity into any character he plays, whether it be the doubtful King of Middle Earth, a small town killer, or Russian mobster. He is a fine actor. Smit-McPhee, who plays his son, is good for what is asked of him, but isn't astounding. He wears his emotions rather then embodies them, but by the end you can help but sympathize with his predicament.

However, despite all these good aspects, there is are major shortcomings: it isn't grim enough. The movie is really pretty good, but through its pacing, its editing, and its overall style, it doesn't quite get depressing enough. It moves quickly, and in a scene where the Man and Boy encounter a particularly grim cellar, there is no sense of shock, instead only of disgust. The movie doesn't resonate.

And the movie changes the novel's original end slightly, tacking on an extra bit of information that doesn't make any sense and is supposed to leave the audience with more hope then the book. Maybe this is the overall problem, the ending, but I remember feeling throughout the movie, "There needs to be more woe, more sorrow." Maybe Mortensen and his kid are too emotional and not somber enough, which is how I pictured the man's character anyway.

This movie is proof that an almost entirely faithful adaptation isn't the same thing as...adaptation. Adaptation is the process of change, but here the book is the shooting script. The source material must be respected, but does not have to be literally translated. You can never compare two different sources together, but you can contrast what makes them different. McCarthy's stark passages are very visual, but keep a third person perspective in the novel. In the movie, the man narrates, and I feel that was one of the unwise changes, though it works.

I encourage any moviegoer to seek this out over 2012 (2009) however. That movies looks like pure idiocy, spectacle, and no thought whatsoever. At least The Road has a vision, but it is the shadow of a movie that could have been great.

No Russian

My roommate just bought the newest first person shooter (FPS) Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. The game is a standard FPS, very thrilling, very exciting, very detailed. I watched my roommate play the first three levels of the game, to see how cool it was, and upon the arriving at the third level I wondered if I would really ever want to put that game in the console again.

Now, it takes a lot to offend me. I think almost anything is OK, and love the satire level of shows like South Park, where any and all subjects are under target. I also embrace the Grand Theft Auto franchise, and have gotten much pleasure out of finding and killing the virtual policeman, and hiring virtual hookers to later kill them and take their money. I enjoy the FPS, where you have to fight an enemy combatant and take down the other team.

But in Modern Warfare 2 I witnessed a level that has offended me more then anything else in recent memory. Be warned, I will openly discuss this entire level, and if you would rather be shocked by it yourself, I say go ahead. It kind of has to be experienced first hand to really get a sense of the shock of the level.

It is preceded by a cutscene, in which whatever character you are playing as (the game jumps between different characters) is informed by his boss that he has been infiltrated into a Russian Mob group or something. Basically, this guy is The Departed level undercover, and can't do anything to blow it. The game warns you at the beginning that this level is controversial and you can skip it, but honestly it should tell what is going to happen in the level, because your curiosity is immediately peaked and it is your natural urge to find out, first hand, what this level is all about.

It opens quite calmly, with you and four of your Russian terrorist buddies entering what my roommates and I originally assumed to be bank, and drew the conclusion of bank robbery. Suddenly, the four terrorists open fire onto all the innocent civilians standing in line at what we realized was a security screening for an airport! Only then did I realize where this level was going.

You spend most of the level slowly walking through the airport, like the Columbine kids or anyone else, quickly picking off any and all innocent civilians you can find, lobbing grenades into elevators and committing mass murder against everyone. My roommate was so shocked that he refused to fire any rounds unless it was necessary, which it did become when actual armed policeman showed up.

Now, you may be asking, and I am asking myself this too, why does killing random virtual people in GTA not bother me at all, but when I get to MW2 I am sickened by what I am seeing? Well, this is what I think goes into it: GTA is violence on such a ridiculous level that you can't believe it will ever happen. When you walk up to someone, shoot them, and then run, it seems comical, and then you just spend a good deal of time running from the police and you either escape or die. Eventually, though, you do die, it is probably this reason alone that I have no qualms about random killings in GTA.

I also have no problems with killing adversaries in FPS because, well, they are armed and trying to kill me. I have to fight back, and it adds a level of exhilaration to the whole thing.

But here, there is no enjoyment to be had. It happens so unexpectedly that it shocks you, but it also conjures up memories of Virginia Tech and Columbine, and also the fact that this really could happen. It really could! So then why is this a video game level? Yes, you are warned to skip the level, and in the inevitable case I do play MW2 I will just select that option so I don't have to deal with it. But you are not told what you are missing, and curiosity will drive you mad (though you could look it up on the Internet).

I visited message boards to gauge people's reactions to this level and got the two expected sides: shocked and disgusted, and then people who just let the bullets fly on the innocents. The main argument from those who "enjoy" the level is that it isn't real, it isn't happening, so it is not bad at all. In fact, many have argued that it is no worse then what has been put on film. But just because it isn't real, doesn't mean it shouldn't effect us; I believe the game designers intended that level to effect the player on a different level then one would be expected to feel normally about a video game.

Now for the real kicker of the level: after spending five minutes killing innocents and then blowing apart guards, you are about to make your escape, when the Russians reveal they know you are undercover and shoot you in the head. The whole point of the mission was to maintain your cover, and instead it was blown all along! It's a great point of discussion, to be sure, but it just leaves you with a big feeling of "what was the point of that level?"

What was the point? To my understanding, that character hadn't been introduced at any point in the game. His role was completely irrelevant, nothing was furthered, and you watched hundreds of innocents die. Plus, if the CIA had a man undercover, and knew this attack was going to happen, would they really let it carry out just for the sake of continuing their agent's cover? Sadly I think the answer is yes, and 24 has posed weird questions like these in past seasons.

In the end, some may call me a pussy for finding the level disgusting, and I say go ahead. I like knowing I have some moral reservations about SOME things these days, which frankly is saying a lot because we live in a world where we have been desensitized to the point where airport murder levels are acceptable. Sometimes we need to pull back the reins a bit and evaluate what the point of that really is.

A Serious Man (2009)

Dark is a word you could use to describe this film; cynical is another. Comedic, maybe. They are all appropriate expressions of probably what is the Coen's most curious recent work to date. It's not fanciful like Raising Arizona (1987) or The Big Lebowski (1998), but its less cynical then No Country For Old Men (2007) and less comedic then Fargo (1996).

The movie is, at its bare bones, an adaptation of the Book of Job, and if you don't know that story, read it and find out what horrible things God will do to you to make you prove your fate. Much the same happens here, as Larry Gobnik's (Michael Stuhlbarg) life begins to spiral out of control, beginning with his wife asking for a divorce, and the incessant arrogance of everyone around him. He seeks help from three rabbis, who offer some interesting, but useless, insight.

You'll leave the movie with mixed emotions on it, I guarantee it, but this movie is meticulously and somewhat ingeniously constructed so that a single viewing, I think, may not be enough to really take in and understand all the movie has to offer and is trying to say. Most of the Coen's movies are about people who get in bad situations and things deteriorate until it ends badly for them. In Fargo, Jerry Lundegaard (a decidedly unsympathetic character) sinks deeper and deeper into a quagmire of his ransom, and in No Country For Old Men (2007), Llewelyn Moss continues playing his cat-and-mouse game with the unstoppable Anton Chigurh.

Here, however, is a man who you assume has done the best with his life and who really doesn't deserve to undergo the unraveling chaos his life is hurled into. Larry is the kind of man who doesn't stand up for himself, who lets others wash over him, as his wife begins discussing marrying an older man, Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed). Sy is the kind of man much akin to Peter Sarsgaard's character in An Education (2009); though not good looking, he is charming and reassuring, while being a complete slimebag underneath it all.

You almost forget there is a ten-minute opening sequence which tells the story of a Jewish man and his wife on a cold winter night encounter what she believes to be a Dybbuk, which, Wikipedia helpfully explains, is a soul that possesses someone's body, a soul that did not fulfill their life's purpose. Though the question is left unanswered: was this man really a Dybbuk?

I will not pretend to know what the opening is supposed to mean, but I have my theory: it lays out the rest of the movie to come, and the movie's eventual sudden ending. But maybe I'm completely off base on this one, and will delve into the many theories other's may have on IMDb or other message boards (sometimes IMDb message boards can be enlightening, sometimes they can be a sad example of what our country has come to).

The technical aspects of this movie are superb, from Roger Deakins' Cinematography to Roderick Jaynes' editing. The movie constructs a few terrific intercut sequences, paralleling either a doctor check-up and a Yiddish lesson, or two simultaneous car crashes, to the movie's powerful and sudden ending.

I really look forward to seeing this movie again. I think it is a fair step up from Joel & Ethan's previous venture, Burn After Reading (2008) which I feel is just an excuse for a slideshow of big stars to be in the same movie, doing ridiculous things. No, this movie is not gut-bustingly funny, but it lingers with you, and is a movie you will enjoy discussing and pondering. I really look forward to seeing it again.

M (1931)

I have seen Fritz Lang's M only twice now, but it is a movie I grossly underestimated, or forgot about, the first time around. This is a movie of profound power, that has the ability to challenge you with one viewpoint, and then unexpectedly turn things around on you and force you to view everything from a new, different perspective.

Petter Lorre is Hans Beckert, an elusive, anti-social young man who is a pedophile. Much beyond that, he also kills his victims, and this act causes such an uproar in the streets of the unnamed German city that police begin raiding bars to find him. Eventually he is found, but many great sequences lead up to this revelation.

First is the opening sequence, a simple yet powerfully done sequence in which children are shown playing, and then the faceless Beckert strides up and offers to buy a young girl a balloon, all the while whistling Edvard Grieg's Hall of the Mountain King. No gratuitous acts against the young girl are shown; instead, we simply get a shot of a balloon stuck in wires, and a ball rolling to a stop in the grass.

The movie descends into much of the first half as a standard police procedural, as the cops try desperately to find who this pervert is, working hours of overtime and getting 90% false leads. A unique spin comes from the German Underworld, who are getting so fed up by the constant police raids that they decide they must find Beckert themselves and end this once and for all.

M to me really speaks to German cinema in the early years of film, and solidifies my belief that they were they best filmmakers of the day. Robert Wiene helped define German Expressionism with The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920), and F.W. Murnau (Nosferatu, Sunrise) and G.W. Pabst (Pandora's Box) have turned out the greatest works from those early days. Not to mention Erich von Stroheim (Greed). And Fritz Lang essentially invented the science fiction genre with Metropolis (1927), another film I'd love to revisit because it has been so many years.

It is then sad that Adolf Hitler not only led the greatest genocide in history, but also destroyed the German filmmaking industry for Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda films. Fritz Lang had to leave his native Germany and went to America, and never directed anything notable ever again. But here is a film full of invention, tackling a subject that will always be grisly and unpleasant.

Two other remarkable scenes include: a scene where Beckert, driven mad by his desire to kill children, finds another suspect and whistles merrily the Mountain King. He is recognized by a blind man, and is marked by a young man with an M on his shirt. This shot, as Beckert turns and realizes what is on his coat, is one of the definitive shots in movie history. The realization that dawns on Lorre's wide eyes speak volumes about the danger he knows he is in.

Finally, the last scene in the film is altogether another remarkable piece of virtuoso filmmaking. Captured by the German Underworld, Beckert is put on trial in front of not just mobsters but many citizens from Germany up above. One man is assigned to Beckert's defense, and two powerful speeches are delivered: the first comes from Beckert. Writhing on the ground, he screams that the urge to commit this horrible acts is something he can't control. Here, Peter Lorre lets loose with the character and screams for mercy, because he really is insane, he really can't control the urges.

The second speech comes from his "lawyer" who states that, yes, this man has committed these awful crimes, and that he should be left to the police, not killed by the mob of angry people standing at this mock trial. A strange thing happens during these two speeches: you actually feel sorry for the pathetic little man, writhing on the floor. Not empathy, for anyone who does may need to be checked out themselves, but a small grain of sympathy is shed for this unworthy man.

In America and indeed maybe most other places in the world in the 30s, you wouldn't find a movie that explored such dark and resonant themes as these. I love classic Hollywood pictures, but something has to be said for the mundanity of most of their plots. You see where they are all going, its just how are they going to get there. But in Germany particularly, anti-heroes and antagonists were getting plenty of attention, and it is a shame that Hitler rose to power, because of the War and genocide, and also the destruction of many more potentially great films.

Footnote: The movie ends by stating that the current version of the film, which runs 110 minutes, is still an incomplete form of the movie. Like with so many other pictures in that day, scenes were edited out and that footage was lost. Still, the edition that exists in lovely Criterion transfers is well worth the watch.