<Spoiler Review>
I'm definitely a fan of Terry Gilliam. Time Bandits, Brazil, Münchausen, Fisher King... all classics. For some reason, however, I never got around to watching Twelve Monkeys until now. I think part of it was the pitch: Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt in a mental institution. Just didn't excite me. Even when it arrived from Netflix, it sat for about two months before I signed and loaded it up.
So, now that I've seen it? I liked it, but didn't love it. I thought the performances were excellent, the visuals Gilliamesque, the plotting tight, and the treatment of a time loop unusually smart. So why aren't I raving about this film?
As is so often the case, a big problem lies in the pacing of the film. It felt like it was about 15-20 minutes longer than it needed to be. It dragged where it should have been pulse quickening... and ironically, it lacked mystery.
Much was made about the film's ambiguity. Was he really a time traveler from a post-apocalyptic wasteland or was he a schizophrenic with delusions? This could have made for some real tension, and the uncertainty could have made the film incredibly compelling... but Gilliam starts of the film with a long sequence set in 2035, firmly establishing the reality of it before we jump to 1990. For the audience, or at least for me, there was never a doubt as to what was real and what wasn't. Even down to the prison bar code tattoos on his scalp, the details were there to make it very clear to the audience that James Cole's (Bruce Willis) reality was exactly as it was portrayed on the screen. When Cole begins to doubt that reality, it doesn't shake our faith in our perception of the character or the situation, but it becomes a somewhat sad plot device allowing us to chuckle at the reversal of positions between the two protagonists.
The thing is, it could have been easily fixed by never showing 2035. If our only experience was of 1990 and then 1996, we would have been in the position of Dr. Railly (Madeline Stowe). As the audience, we would have had more of an open mind about things, but we would have had doubt... which is a thing I never had while watching the movie.
Granted, if Gilliam had done that then we would have had K-Pax, only eight years early. It wouldn't have looked like a Gilliam feel or had any of his trademark visual panache. It would have been a more interesting film though.
Even the reveal of Cole's dreams was something that I felt certain of the second that Cole recognized Railly as the woman in his recurring nightmare. It was merely a question of when and why would she change her hair color.
What did work was the misdirection over how the viral outbreak got started. This was excellently done and I didn't even begin to suspect until the airport sequence. Even when the Army of the Twelve Monkeys released the zoo animals, I thought it was the source of the outbreak. After all, we were repeatedly told that the virus had mutated, and we know that viruses can, and do, make the jump from birds to humans.
What also worked was the unflinching acceptance of the time loop. Cole never tries to change the course of history until the end, and only then because he is pushed to do it from all sides. The hero does not save the day, but he accomplishes his mission. The film ends with the doom of humankind and the beginnings of a future of bleak desolation. Cole will grow up in a world of savagery and desperation, become a violent criminal, and in an attempt to provide answers for the future, become the catalyst for the viral outbreak itself.
After all, if Cole hadn't been sent back, then he wouldn't have met Jeffrey (Brad Pitt), Jeffrey wouldn't have formed the Army of the Twelve Monkeys, Dr. Reilly wouldn't have become convinced of the dangers and reached Dr. Goines (Christopher Plummer), who wouldn't have removed himself from security protocols, and Dr. Peters would have never had unrestricted access to the virus. Cole ensures his own future and dooms the human race.
Other directors might have changed the ending. Allowed Cole to stop the virus... maybe dying in the process, but saving humankind. I deeply respect Gilliam for not taking that route.
All that said, I really do like the film. I just don't love it. It's too self-indulgent, and that self-indulgence lessens the film. It's not a bad film, not at all. It's just not as great as it could have been... and that's a shame.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Everything is Illuminated
I couldn't remember why I put this movie in my Netflix queue. I looked at the disc and read the summary, and it sounded depressing as hell. So, it sat there for a couple of weeks, languishing. Finally, I decided to bite the bullet and check it out.
I was utterly charmed by it.
Everything is Illuminated starts out as yet another quirky indie film that throws together gently amusing eccentrics and lets us reflect on the absurdity of the human condition and identify with the misfits that we all secretly are. As the film progresses, however, we start to get hints that these lives are connected in some deep and profound way. Of course, I start to assume the worst, most direct, and most over the top connections.... and I was wrong.
By the time the film gets heavy, it's earned the right. The comedy becomes poignant and meaningful, and if reality is heightened (if not magical) then so be it.
What makes the film work as well as it does is its restraint. If you watch the extra scenes, you'll find that things were cut that went way over the top in terms of eccentricity and wackiness. The tone of these clips is so at odds with the rest of the film that it's no wonder they got cut. More surprising is that they got fully filmed and edited in the first place.
Everything is Illuminated has some really lovely things to say about our relationship with the past. Jonathan grew up in a family where it is implied that people didn't really talk about the past, and he feels compelled to collect tokens of important moments with his family. As he says in the trailer, he is afraid that he will forget... so he collects these anchors for the memories he is afraid of losing. By the end of the film, he's ready to let go of these fetishes, because the past is all around him now. He will not forget, because he has not hidden from the past. He will not forget, because he has let the past touch him, and move him, and change him and thus can let go of the trinkets that he once hoarded.
This is a lovely, charming, deeply moving film that is bolstered by Eugene Hutz, Boris Leskin, and Elijah Wood. I'm putting Wood at the end of that list, because while he's the author's stand in, he's not the standout in this cast. Hutz and Leskin are marvels to behold, playing off of one another as if they truly had spent the last twenty odd years together.
Only one thing bothered me, which is that Alex, Hutz's character, says that he can't drive the American because he has other commitments at a nightclub... but he goes along as a translator. I feel like there is a scene missing somewhere, and it's not in the extra scenes. It's a minor plot hole, but one that could have probably been fixed in the editing of that one scene.
I was utterly charmed by it.
Everything is Illuminated starts out as yet another quirky indie film that throws together gently amusing eccentrics and lets us reflect on the absurdity of the human condition and identify with the misfits that we all secretly are. As the film progresses, however, we start to get hints that these lives are connected in some deep and profound way. Of course, I start to assume the worst, most direct, and most over the top connections.... and I was wrong.
By the time the film gets heavy, it's earned the right. The comedy becomes poignant and meaningful, and if reality is heightened (if not magical) then so be it.
What makes the film work as well as it does is its restraint. If you watch the extra scenes, you'll find that things were cut that went way over the top in terms of eccentricity and wackiness. The tone of these clips is so at odds with the rest of the film that it's no wonder they got cut. More surprising is that they got fully filmed and edited in the first place.
Everything is Illuminated has some really lovely things to say about our relationship with the past. Jonathan grew up in a family where it is implied that people didn't really talk about the past, and he feels compelled to collect tokens of important moments with his family. As he says in the trailer, he is afraid that he will forget... so he collects these anchors for the memories he is afraid of losing. By the end of the film, he's ready to let go of these fetishes, because the past is all around him now. He will not forget, because he has not hidden from the past. He will not forget, because he has let the past touch him, and move him, and change him and thus can let go of the trinkets that he once hoarded.
This is a lovely, charming, deeply moving film that is bolstered by Eugene Hutz, Boris Leskin, and Elijah Wood. I'm putting Wood at the end of that list, because while he's the author's stand in, he's not the standout in this cast. Hutz and Leskin are marvels to behold, playing off of one another as if they truly had spent the last twenty odd years together.
Only one thing bothered me, which is that Alex, Hutz's character, says that he can't drive the American because he has other commitments at a nightclub... but he goes along as a translator. I feel like there is a scene missing somewhere, and it's not in the extra scenes. It's a minor plot hole, but one that could have probably been fixed in the editing of that one scene.
One Week
An acquaintance lent me this movie and was quite insistent that I watch it. It clearly means a lot to him. I think I understand why, but I can't say I share his enthusiasm. The movie is ostensibly about the importance of living every day as if it was your last, to live in the moment and not to be afraid of life. It's a message that can be very powerful.
Unfortunately, this film goes off the rails at numerous junctures and as a result the film actually seems to say that it's OK to be a total dick to people who care about you as long as you have the excuse of having terminal cancer.
The protagonist, Ben, is meticulously laid out as someone who has routinely abandoned any pursuit the second he meets resistance. If one person tells him that his first attempt at something is less than successful, he just gives up. Over the course of the film, our omnipotent narrator who (spoiler alert) turns out to be Ben himself, or rather the narrator of Ben's book about this experience, and he gets to let us know how his generally self-absorbed behavior is actually OK because it circumstantially happens to make people's lives better and in one case even saves some one's life. Also, it's totally OK that he cheats on his fiancee the night before she comes to join him on his journey of self discovery because he never loved her anyway. Oh, and also, clearly one night stands with cute girls in the woods are the secret to the meaning of life, and fuck personal responsibility.
You may think I'm being a bit harsh, but this is quite seriously how things play out in this film, and the constant narration makes it pretty clear how Ben feels about all this.
Even technically, the film disappoints. It's celebrated as a great Canadian film, but it's primarily a road trip... a love letter to the Canadian countryside and it's quirky population. However, a quick look at IMDB reveals that the geographical order to the locations he visits is completely jacked up. Now, this normally wouldn't bother me, but if you're making a big deal about going from one place to another, and celebrating the journey, you should at least get the order of landmarks right. It would be like an American Journey in which we go from New York to Disney World to Chicago to San Francisco to the Grand Canyon and end up in New Orleans.
I can't think of the last time a film has annoyed me as much as this one did. I normally don't mind unlikable protagonists, but we are so clearly supposed to not only identify with Ben, but approve of him. The only acknowledgement we have of Ben's utter dickishness comes from his fiancee right before he dumps her, and her biggest crime in the film is wanting him to face up to his situation and take steps that will at least give him a fighting chance to survive.
I would feel differently if the film didn't bed over backwards trying to get us to root for Ben, but it does.
I'm going to be giving the DVD back to my acquaintance this week. He's going to ask me what I thought about it, and I'm going to have to be very tactful in what I tell him. I'll have to tell him that I can see how the film's theme of being true to yourself and living each day as if it was your last really hit home for him. I will avoid discussing anything else about the film.
Unfortunately, this film goes off the rails at numerous junctures and as a result the film actually seems to say that it's OK to be a total dick to people who care about you as long as you have the excuse of having terminal cancer.
The protagonist, Ben, is meticulously laid out as someone who has routinely abandoned any pursuit the second he meets resistance. If one person tells him that his first attempt at something is less than successful, he just gives up. Over the course of the film, our omnipotent narrator who (spoiler alert) turns out to be Ben himself, or rather the narrator of Ben's book about this experience, and he gets to let us know how his generally self-absorbed behavior is actually OK because it circumstantially happens to make people's lives better and in one case even saves some one's life. Also, it's totally OK that he cheats on his fiancee the night before she comes to join him on his journey of self discovery because he never loved her anyway. Oh, and also, clearly one night stands with cute girls in the woods are the secret to the meaning of life, and fuck personal responsibility.
You may think I'm being a bit harsh, but this is quite seriously how things play out in this film, and the constant narration makes it pretty clear how Ben feels about all this.
Even technically, the film disappoints. It's celebrated as a great Canadian film, but it's primarily a road trip... a love letter to the Canadian countryside and it's quirky population. However, a quick look at IMDB reveals that the geographical order to the locations he visits is completely jacked up. Now, this normally wouldn't bother me, but if you're making a big deal about going from one place to another, and celebrating the journey, you should at least get the order of landmarks right. It would be like an American Journey in which we go from New York to Disney World to Chicago to San Francisco to the Grand Canyon and end up in New Orleans.
I can't think of the last time a film has annoyed me as much as this one did. I normally don't mind unlikable protagonists, but we are so clearly supposed to not only identify with Ben, but approve of him. The only acknowledgement we have of Ben's utter dickishness comes from his fiancee right before he dumps her, and her biggest crime in the film is wanting him to face up to his situation and take steps that will at least give him a fighting chance to survive.
I would feel differently if the film didn't bed over backwards trying to get us to root for Ben, but it does.
I'm going to be giving the DVD back to my acquaintance this week. He's going to ask me what I thought about it, and I'm going to have to be very tactful in what I tell him. I'll have to tell him that I can see how the film's theme of being true to yourself and living each day as if it was your last really hit home for him. I will avoid discussing anything else about the film.
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