Faith of My Fathers blog

August 29, 2009

Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 11:28 pm

An engrossing story of the disintegration of a with it loveless connection, with Richard Benjamin and Frank Langella effectively portraying the inadequacies of quash and lover, respectively, and Carrie Snodgress, as a frustrated, responsive wife.

Story line [from a novel by Sue Kaufman] has Snodgress reach the breaking point under a marriage to Benjamin that has become sated with his selfish material values. She turns to Langella as an afternoon lover, only to find him just as bad.

Benjamin, who is top-billed, is saddled with the most unsympathetic role as a disenchanted, post-JFK idealist now determined to rise in the middle-class flotsam, he is excellent in maintaining a character so delineated that one wants to throw something at the screen.

1970: Nomination: Best Actress (Carrie Snodgrass)

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Juoksuhaudantie (2004)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 12:45 am

A man’s bizarre meltdown after his family abandons him is the dominant anyway in the reality in “Trench Throughway,” Finnish helmer Veikko Aaltonen’s adaptation of the award-winning novel by Kari Hotakainen. Entirely-produced pic holds notice, to the present time falls short, as lead perf and direction fail to make much of the story’s humorous potential for pathos, grotesquerie and black humor. It’s a study of escalating madness and obsession that remains too politely outside those qualities. Nonetheless, results rep a viable fest mention with above-average televise sales prospects.

Eero Aho plays Matti Virttanen, a forklift operator and talented amateur chef whose complacency is making unsympathetic wife Helena (Tiina Lymi, thesp’s off-screen spouse) furious. One night when she berates him as less than a real man, he impulsively hits her — a first such offense, but enough to provide her with excuse to leave their apartment with his beloved young daughter and file for divorce.

Rapidly unraveling in his new solitude, Matti begins obsessing over the acquisition of a veteran house — one built for returning soldiers after WWII — as the missing factor that will magically bring his family back together. He also commences rigorous physical training in planning to intimidate, military-style, the owners of homes he covets.

This conceptual mix of “American Beauty”-type midlife-crisis-in-suburbia satire and paramilitary delusions a la “The Beach” should be more striking than it is. Aaltonen’s too-evenhanded approach doesn’t reflect the protag’s disintegration in stylistic terms (a few tepid TV commercial fantasies aside), and lead Aho is just passable in a potentially great role. By the time Matti barricades himself in a stranger’s home, holding an actual veteran (Esko Pesonen) captive at gunpoint while baffled police, wife and child stand outside, pic should have worked up a much headier foam of mingled absurdity, suspense and tragedy.

Generation-gap resentment by younger Finnish men (who’ve never served in a war) toward their Greatest Generation forbears, and all related issues of macho insecurity, constitute a central theme pic could have articulated more clearly for offshore auds.

Package is smoothly handled on all tech levels; Mauri Sumen’s score verges on the bombastic.

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August 27, 2009

News about

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 11:44 am

SIGNS

(Id.) di M. Night Shyamalan, con AMel Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix,
Cherry Jones, Rory Culkin, Abigail Breslin.

Distribuzione: UBuena Vista, durata: 106'
Un pastore che ha smarrito la fede si trova a contatto
con misteriosi segnali provenienti da altre civiltà.
I

crop circles

(gli enigmatici cerchi nel grano, che
dal 1976 sono apparsi ciclicamente nei posti più svariati
e in oltre dodicimila formazioni), hanno sempre diviso l'opinione
pubblica fra chi li crede manifestazioni di entità extraterrestri
e chi li ritiene più semplicemente opera di buontemponi.
Ma, disappoint a amount to nel caso della celeberrima trasmissione radiofonica di
Orson Welles
sulla presunta invasione degli alieni,
la verità è forse meno interessante delle reazioni
del pubblico: diviso a seconda dei casi fra scetticismo, speranza
e paura. Anche il film di
Shyamalan
è
in parte un gioco con lo spettatore, un ritorno alle paure dell'infanzia,
un affettuoso omaggio alla fantascienza degli anni Cinquanta;
il che però non gli impedisce di essere al beat stesso
un'opera straordinariamente intensa, commovente e matura sul tema
della fede e del caso. Da sempre affascinato dai misteri che si
celano dietro le coincidenze, il regista di
Sesto senso
e di
Unbreakable
ha fatto un picture religioso che
sterling non è riconducibile a nessuna confessione. Nato in
una famiglia induista, educato in una scuola cattolica, affascinato
dal buddismo zen, il regista di origine indiana ha trovato nel
cinema la sua vera e unica fede, il suo credo ecumenico: «Un
film deve contenere un significato, della anticipation, emozioni e
umanità. E deve trasmettere un messaggio universale».
E' proprio nella capacità di comunicare, di esprimere e
interpretare i segni il cuore del layer; nel rapporto misterioso
e tutt'altro che ovvio che c'è fra verità e bellezza.
Sia che siano opera di alieni o di buontemponi, i

crop circles

sono diventati a pieno titolo una forma di

land manoeuvres

,
di intervento artistico sul paesaggio. Il valore estetico delle
oro meravigliose geometrie frattali è comunque fuori discussione.
Allo stesso modo

Signs

, al di là del fenomeno
dal quale prende spunto, è soprattutto uno straordinario
esercizio di stile, un memorabile esempio di cinema: a metà
fra

L'invasione degli ultracorpi

e

Gli
uccelli

, fra la fantascienza e il thriller metafisico.
Shyamalan lo dirige con sopraffina maestria, creando un clima
inquietante con sorprendente economia di mezzi, senza bisogno
di stupire con effetti speciali e addirittura quasi senza mostrare
nulla
.
Fedele in questo a un principio enunciato nientepopodimeno che
da

Marcel Proust

: e cioé che il fatto
estetico non consiste in una rivelazione, ma nella sua aspettativa.

?


LA BATTUTA:

E' possibile che le coincidenze
non esistano.

August 26, 2009

Shoeshine review

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 1:52 pm

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“When viewed today seems to
be in need of a buffing.”

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

This is as much a manipulative as a realistic examination of everyday
social problems and the haunting effect of poverty on children, who are
facing on their own a devastated post-war Italy. It’s directed by Vittorio
De Sica (”Miracle in Milan”/”Umberto D”/”The Bicycle Thief”) and mainly
written by his longtime collaborator Cesare Zavattini. Much of the low-budget
film was shot in the studio over a three month period, and because the
location shots were so poorly done it failed to have the fresh overall
authentic look of many other neorealist films of the period.

This war-torn story about the coming apart of a friendship of two
honest shoeshine boys who unwittingly get mixed up in a black market scheme
and are sent to a juvenile delinquency reform school facility with tragic
results, gave neorealism its first critical success internationally but
flopped both commercially and critically in Italy–they wanted escapist
Hollywood films and it was also critically assailed by many who felt that
the film exploited the misfortunes of the poor (which I agree with). 

The lead two shoeshine boys are effectively played by non-professional
actors Rinaldo Smordoni and Franco Interlenghi. It might have been a shocker
in its day, but when viewed today seems to be in need of a buffing. Though
filled with sentimentality and too simplistic a message to be a meaningful
social document, I have to admit it does in a melodramatic way get at the
pain of living in such desperate times and shows how the system just didn’t
work well enough to help the troubled kids who were desperately in need
of a helping hand from the authorities or some responsible adult.

Giuseppe (Rinaldo Smordoni) and Pasquale (Franco Interlenghi) work
the streets of Rome hustling shoeshines, especially to American GIs. Pasquale
is a homeless orphan, while the younger Giuseppe comes from an impoverished
but honest family that live in crowded conditions and are too busy to keep
an eye on him. The boys dream of owning a horse together and are saving
their shoeshine earnings to buy a certain rental street white horse kept
in a stable. They sell on the black market used American blankets to a
palmist (Maria Campi), who gets scammed by Giuseppe’s thieving older brother
(Atiello Mele) and two other con artists posing as cops. A few days later
the kids are arrested in the street when the palmist points them out to
the police as accomplices in the crime. When they refuse to squeal, they
are sent to reform school and fall in with a bad lot of juvenile delinquents
causing them to become embittered and eventually turn against each other
in betrayal.

It received a special Oscar before the Academy had a prize for Best
Foreign Film.

August 24, 2009

Play-Mate of the Apes (2001)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 2:20 am

CineSchlock-O-Rama

Seduction Cinema and director John Bacchus have created a cottage industry with their continuing series of morally reprehensible and damned entertaining pop-culture spoofs which skirt the line between lesbian-friendly softcore porn and classic sexploitation fare. Flicks like The Erotic Witch Project, Gladiator Eroticvs, Erotic Survivor and now, Play-Mate of the Apes (2002, 89 minutes), their most ambitious film to date. It’s also their best.

The movie: B-sensation Misty Mundae stars as Gaylor, an astronaut who crash lands on an unknown planet when her frisky crewmates (Anoushka and Sharon Engert) wake from hibernation and lose control of the ship along with their inhibitions. After wandering around in raincoats, er, spacesuits, they finally encounter other humans who can’t speak, but are incredibly friendly. Just as an all-out petting party is about to get underway, TALKING APES throw nets over them and haul them off to Dr. Cornholeus’ (Debbie Rochon) laboratory — that just happens to look a lot like someone’s basement rec room. Gaylor must share a cramped cell with a lovely human named Uvala (Darian Caine) who she soon finds is also VERY friendly and eager to please. Cornholeus is stunned that Gaylor — whom she calls “White Thighs” — has the ability to speak. This fact also draws the attention of General Lade (Bacchus) who insists that even if a human COULD talk, it still has no SOUL. He then proceeds to express his philosophy in song! As you see, this is also a MUSICAL!!! During the second dance number, Gaylor manages to escape with Uvala, Cornholeus and a PINK ape aptly named Dr. Kweera (Dan Schwab). While the rest of the film documents their harrowing journey to The Forbidden Zone (marked by a large neon sign) with periodic breaks for wanton lesbian lovin’. More than a third of the flick’s total running time, actually. But what makes this especially memorable is its success as a downright hilarious parody with deliciously silly jabs at the original Planet of the Apes and even the deus ex machina finale of the Tim Burton remake. CineSchlockers will find particular humor in the wide variety of costume-shop gorilla suits employed.

Notables: Eight breasts. No corpses. Advanced lesbian tongue rasslin’. Gratuitous Mark Twain quote. Low-rent CGI. Late-night cable saxophone music. Tin-foil sneakers. Nipple patty cake. Gratuitous lemonade stand. Tree humping. Panty sniffing. Woodland dance party.

Quotables: Ms. Mundae under pressure, “You pressed the DO NOT PRESS button?! We’re all gonna die!!!” As a skeptic, “Sure, Lt. Fornication! I’m sure that’s why you were ass-naked and kissing!!!” Apeing Chuck Heston, “This is a MAD HOUSE!” and “You can’t sing for s@#$ you damn, dirty ape!” As Miss Fix-It, “It’s amazing what a little bit of gum and snot can do!” Headlines from Primate: The Magazine for Adult Apes and Chimps, “Apes or Chimps: Who’s Better in Bed? / Why Humans Stink / Top 50 Vacation Spots.”

Time codes: James Bond-esque title sequence (:07). First girl-meets-girl encounter (4:00). Darian speaks the interplanetary language of love (19:20). General Lade rolls out his Vegas-era Elvis (31:11). Russian version of an electric blanket (40:40). Behold buxom Barbarian Queen Shelby Taylor (53:40). Darian beholds Shelby (1:04:00). Bacchus’ trademark climatic all-skate orgy (1:18:03).

Audio/Video: Presented in its original fullframe format with a flawless transfer. Utilitarian Dolby Digital 2.0 track.

Extras: Typically fleshy and voyeuristic behind-the-scenes reel also mixes in the hows of production and an occasional blooper (12 mins). Interviews with the director, Ms. Mundae, Ms. Caine and Ms. Rochon (8 mins). Fans of Anoushka can ogle her new store-bought breasts in a special on-set “naked” interview as she quells the stress of the day with some self-gratification (6 mins). Ms. Inger does the same (4 mins). Don’t miss the Green Verberts’ “We’re the Humans!” music video for a wacky spin on the Monkees anthem. Two versions of the trailer plus reels for Misty Mundae: Mummy Raider, Sexy 6th Sense, Gladiator Eroticvs, Erotic Survivor 2, Vampire Obsession, Erotic Mirror, Master’s Play Thing, 2069: A Sexy Odyssey, Naughty Stewardesses, Inga, Seduction of Inga, I Like the Girls Who Do and Possession of Nurse Sherri. Static menus with audio.

Final thought: By far the funniest and sexiest film parody yet by the master of the genre. Highly Recommended.

Check out my revealing interview with
the lovely Misty Mundae!


G. Noel Gross is a Dallas diagrammatic designer and avowed Drive-In Mutant who specializes in scribbling B-movie reviews. Noel is inspired by Joe Bob Briggs and his gospel of blood, breasts and beasts.

August 22, 2009

WarGames review

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 6:47 am
“One of the early films to warn
about the dangers of hackers and the possibilities of computers controlling
our lives.”

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

One of the early films to warn about the dangers of hackers and the
possibilities of computers controlling our lives. John Badham (”Stakeout”/”Short
Circuit”/”American Flyers”), who was brought in to replace director Martin
Brest after twelve days of shooting, slickly tells of a smart but underachieving
geeky affluent middle-class smart-aleck computer whiz, the 17-year-old
Seattle high school student, David Lightman (Matthew Broderick). He is
first seen impressing his pretty classmate Jennifer Mack (Ally Sheedy)
by changing both their failing biology marks after hacking into the school
system’s computer and then in his search to steal some new video games
taps into a program that allows him to play the game called “Global Thermonuclear
War.” This misdeed alerts the commanders at NORAD, the country’s missile-defense
system, of a nuclear war alert as the United States Air Force’s supersecret
supercomputer WOPR advises a retaliatory strike. David’s innocent action,
of being the Soviet Union in this game and setting up Las Vegas and Seattle
to be attacked, brings the US and the Soviet Union to the brink of WW III.

The film is edgy in its first half, but in its second half it becomes
short-circuited with a silly side story of an adventurious escape and an
annoyingly uncomfortable barrage of heavy-handed messages that somehow
relates not winning in Tick-Tack-Toe with nuclear war. Screenwriters Lawrence
Lasker and Walter Parkes questioned man’s reliance on machines for protection,
as they deployed as many contrived situations as possible to bring home
their message about out-of-control artificial intelligence and in the process
ruin any chance for real suspense.

The film’s meltdown occurs when David is arrested by the FBI and
brought to NORAD headquarters and is questioned by their computer-security
scientist expert Dr. John McKittrick (Dabney Coleman), and then escapes
to bring back from a remote Oregon island the game’s fuzzy-headed intellectual
creator, Stephen Falken (John Wood). With all the experts now in place
at NORAD, including the gung-ho Air Force right-wing commander of the base,
the short-fused tobacco chewing General Beringer (Barry Corbin), David
precedes to teach WOPR that the only way to win this dangerous game is
not to play.

It was released when Pac-Man fever was at its height and it proved
to be a popular film, thanks largely to teens, that received mostly good
reviews. The 21-year-old Broderick looks like a teenager and is convincing
as a kid who lives and dies by the power of the home computer. The film
is at its best when it shows even our most advanced security systems for
computers might not be enough to deal with how susceptibile they are to
hackers. If it stayed with that story and didn’t try to go over-the-top
with an absurd adventure scenario and a rather comical climax, the paranoid
thriller would have been more credible. 

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August 21, 2009

Importance of Being Earnest (2002)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 2:21 am

Good as one of Oscar Wilde’s resourceful gentlemen is Ernest in city and Jack in the power, so it seems that “The Importance of Being Earnest” was a comedy in the last century and a drama in the untrained one. At least, that’s the dumbfounding impression fist by pencil-pusher-principal Oliver Parker’s utterly miscalculated film modifying of Wilde’s play. Trims in the text might be expected, although not necessary for an under-two-hour feature; and the opening up of the stagebound action is decidedly a mixed blessing. But what washes out the joys of Wilde’s almost always delicious concoction is a tone that bafflingly drifts toward seriousness, strikingly whenever thesps Colin Firth’s Jack and Judi Dench’s Lady Bracknell take center-hide. Wilde fans will turn away in dismay, with only costume drama diehards likely to maintain this on the momentous telly.

Pic’s ancillary hopes are even sure to be dimmed, since the Miramax release opens just weeks before Criterion Collection’s unveiling of a freshly restored DVD edition of Anthony Asquith’s stagebound but infinitely preferable 1952 version starring an indelible Michael Redgrave as Jack and Dame Edith Evans as Bracknell. Earlier picture also points to everything that is wrong with Parker’s handling, which starts with a brief chase scene involving the perpetually indebted dandy Algy (Rupert Everett) that’s apparently designed to include some “action,” but only looks like bad outtakes from “From Hell.” Parker’s script breaks up the dialogue between Algy and best friend, Jack, into sections that take them from a music hall to a lounge to Algy’s London digs, but this only serves to impede the flow of Wilde’s elegantly constructed dialogue.

Algy exposes Jack’s ongoing ruse that he playacts as a fellow named “Ernest” in the city, which gives him an excuse to leave his country manor and visit Gwendolen (Frances O’Connor). Algy, meanwhile, has invented his own fictional creature, a sickly man named Bunbury, whom he “visits” — that’s his excuse for getting out of the city. None of this is nearly as amusing as it should be, but things get downright glum when Algy’s aunt, Bracknell, shows up and glowers at Jack’s interest in Gwendolen. When Bracknell interviews Jack about his class pedigree and suitability for marriage, it is all about intimidation and not at all about Wilde’s view of Bracknell as hilariously unaware that she is a bag of hot air.

Parker’s adaptation inserts some new visual material that has Jack dramatically trying to uncover the true nature of his upbringing, since all he knows is that he was found as a baby in a handbag at Victoria Station. Nothing is more stunningly off-key in the movie than this revelation, which invariably gets big laughs in any decent stage version but is approached as high drama here.Thus, it’s strange to discover — back at Jack’s sylvan estate — that Reese Witherspoon as Jack’s beloved ward Cecily, Anna Massey as Cecily’s tutor Miss Prism and Tom Wilkinson as local priest Dr. Chasuble and hopeful suitor to Prism haven’t forgotten they’re actually doing Wilde. Fitting comfortably with the otherwise Brit cast, Witherspoon instantly flashes her charm as Cecily drifts off into romantic fantasies (though Parker ruins the effect by archly depicting them on screen), while Massey and Wilkinson are masters of comic timing and the just slightly daft turn of their too-long-in-the-country folk.

Adaptation is rarely content to simply let Wilde’s characters settle into the drawing room of their choosing, continually interrupting the flow of the original text and generating the queasy feeling of desperation by trucking in “visual” notes.To wit, Algy actually arrives at Jack’s home via hot-air balloon (with nobody commenting on it).

Some new business involving Algy being chased around London and the countryside by debtors and Savoy Hotel reps is meant to underline the rake’s non-progress, but it just gets in the way of what is arguably one of the English language’s most perfectly devised comedies.

Somewhere between the just-right froth of Witherspoon, Massey and Wilkinson and the poor judgment of Firth and Dench are Everett’s slightly amusing but never winning Algy, and O’Connor’s pleasant but unmemorable Gwendolen; those prone to imaginative re-casting would certainly top the list with Richard E. Grant, seemingly born to play Algy.

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A big widescreen look, complete with a notably underlit approach by lenser Tony Pierce-Roberts, creates an expensive, naturalistic style that simply doesn’t belong to Wilde’s specific and exaggerated universe. Elegance courses through Luciana Arrighi’s slightly Italian-accented production design, Maurizio Millenotti’s costuming and Peter King’s makeup and hair design. Pic features one of the worst examples of “funny” music in recent film.

August 19, 2009

Extreme Prejudice (1987)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 9:04 pm

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Director Walter Hill’s continuing fascination with violence and the forces of villainous shows up cranny in “Extreme Bigotry.” But on the evidence of this twisted, acme-tech “Wild Bunch” update, he’s still no more than the poor man’s Sam Peckinpah. All the ethics and issues cause been eliminated from Hill’s nuevo western film, leaving only the strength, the finished bullets and the copious slo-mo abundance of blood.

Nick Nolte, who seems to have pulled a Remar Sutton, portrays a lean and lanky Texas Ranger named Jack Benteen with “a spit-shine heart” and about as much bubbly as a bottle of champagne now on the Titanic. In his border town (El Paso, but not so you’d know it), Jack is one tough gringo hombre, the kind who walks alone into a bar bristling with the lower tiers of humanity to arrest two suspects. One dies then, one later, which is pretty much the fate of everybody in this apocalypsiesta.

Jack’s not the only tough gringo: His boyhood pal Cash Bailey (Powers Boothe) lets scorpions crawl into his bare hand and then crushes them. Cash used to be an undercover plant in the Mexican-based drug hierarchy, but all that money has turned him sour. Surrounded by more military hardware than you could fit into the hold of a cargo plane, he’s become a drug lord with Kurtzian delusions of power. These days, it’s Cash and carry away the goodies — including Sarita (Maria Conchita Alonso), who was his girl before she was Jack’s (she’s now a roadhouse singer). Actually, it’s not as complicated or as interesting as it sounds.

Into this idyllic triangle comes a band of high-tech and low-caliber mercenaries, led by yet another tough gringo, Major Hackett (Michael Ironside). His men are all officially dead (it’s too complicated to explain). Their mission implausible: a midday robbery of an El Paso bank that may contain sensitive documents that might blow the cover off a DEA operation, or something like that.

At this point in the film, Hill and his screen writers seem to be heading for some sort of morality play or parable: about Vietnam, blind obedience and spent ideals, the evil of private armies and covert operations, following orders, courage, conscience and so on. The story originated with John Milius, who gave us both “Apocalypse Now” and “Red Dawn,” so you know you’re in for a bumpy ride.

Unfortunately, Hill and company pay so much attention to the details of mayhem and the hard-boiled dialogue that even when everything is made clear and the renegade among the mercenaries is uncovered, the plot still doesn’t make much sense.

It probably won’t make a lot of dollars, either.

There are simply too many problems, starting with Hill’s clumsy exposition and clumsier development. There’s also Nolte’s turning into a blond Charles Bronson, all stone face and tight frame. Boothe is hardly more believable as the bad guy, but at least he’s something of a hoot trying to present himself as just another guy who’s found out it’s lonesome at the top. Rip Torn is his usual expressive self as the local sheriff, but he gets blown away all too soon. Of the mercenaries, Clancy Brown is the most memorable (though not half as memorable as his bad dude in “Highlander”).

Alonso gets nothing to work with except a few lines of love angst, but she fares better than any of the Hispanic actors in the film. “Extreme Prejudice” lives up to its name by casting every Hispanic actor back into 50-year-old stereotypes (the token blacks and southerners fare just a little better). When the mercenaries sneak into the Mexican drug fortress — in broad daylight and surrounded by hundreds of well-armed, well-tanked banditos — absolutely nobody seems to notice their out-of-place pale faces, or the one black face. And naturally, the kill ratio is about 20 Mexicans to every gringo. Such violence is despicable as much for its implications as its explicitness, but Hill probably got a good deal from some Hollywood arms merchant.

“Extreme Prejudice” is rated R and contains many scenes of explicit violence.

August 17, 2009

Gettysburg (1993)

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 12:16 pm

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Ted Turner doesn’t do anything in a small MO = ‘modus operandi’. The original going in for his new feature production module is a 4 1/4-hour epic on the biggest combat of the Public In conflict, and it will be found a hit with history buffs. Periodic filmgoers should be captivated, too, outstandingly those who made Ken Burns’ “The Laic War” into a television effect come what may. To the max preemed at the Boston Film Holy day, pic intention go out theatrically Oct. 8 in advance of TV airing.

“Gettysburg” concentrates on the three days of fighting, with about 45 minutes devoted to the day before. General Robert E. Lee (Martin Sheen) believes that he can end the war with a decisive victory over the Federal troops by taking Gettysburg, then marching on Washington with an offer to President Lincoln of terms for peace. The Rebel leader and his men are tired after three years of fighting a war most thought would be over in a month.

The Northern troops are in disarray. The military leadership keeps changing, some of the commanders lack battle experience and there are stirrings of rebellion among the troops.

Thus, the stage is set for a battle that would see more than 53,000 American soldiers killed, more casualties than there were during the entire Vietnam War.

Writer-director Ronald F. Maxwell, adapting the Michael Shaara novel “The Killer Angels” and relying on historical research and documents of the era, tries to reconstruct what happened on both sides during the fateful events of early July 1863.

The first day is seen through the eyes of Brig. Gen. John Buford (Sam Elliott), whose actions prevent the South from gaining an early advantage. Elliott presents us with a portrait of the professional soldier, doing his job quietly and efficiently.

On the Northern side, the chief point of reference is provided by Col. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (Jeff Daniels), a Maine college professor so ill-suited to his role that he has to keep reminding his aide-de-camp — and brother (C. Thomas Howell) — to stop referring to him as “Lawrence” instead of by his rank. Chamberlain’s moment of truth comes on the second day at the Battle of Little Round Top. As depicted here, Chamberlain’s efforts to hold the Northern line against the Southern forces could have made a movie all by itself. It is a fitting climax to the first half of the film.

Among the Rebels, the chief conflict is between Lee, who wants a decisive victory, and Lt. Gen. James Longstreet (Tom Berenger), who argues that the risksare astronomical, and that they can win tactical advantages by continuing to fight defensively. It is little solace to him that he is proved right in the final day of battle, which takes up the second half of the movie.

In spite of its length, the film works on several levels. There’s the sense of this being as close as an audience can come to seeing what the Battle of Gettysburg was actually like. The final credit scroll runs 10 minutes, with an impressive list of historical advisers and Civil War organizations that helped stage the epic reenactments.

Second, there’s the cast. Jeff Daniels walks away with the film as the mild scholar who, when tossed into battle, rises to the occasion. He wins audience sympathy with an early speech about what the North is fighting for, which is never really answered by the South.

Whereas the North is fighting for principle — freeing the slaves and preserving the Union — the representatives of the South voice several viewpoints, with the “state’s rights” argument given to a politician who is laughed at by the other Southerners. The most eloquent call to arms is a speech late in the film by Brig. Gen. Lewis Armistead (Richard Jordan) arguing that his troops, at least, are there to defend the honor of Virginia.

If the film can be criticized on any level, it is that its focus is almost entirely on the officers. C. Thomas Howell’s lieutenant has a poignant scene talking with captured Rebels about why they’re there, but the only real representative of the non-officer class is Sgt. Buster Kilrain (Kevin Conway), a loyal and battle-scarred sidekick.

Among the Southerners, acting honors go to Sheen and Berenger, with Sheen giving some idea of why Lee remained a general respected by soldiers on both sides during the war. Stephen Lang and the late Richard Jordan provide other perspectives of the Southern aristocracy, with Jordan especially moving in a scene talking about a comrade-in-arms who is leading the Northern forces in the coming battle.

In a bit of in-joke casting, both documentarian Ken Burns and Ted Turner have brief cameo bits.

Credit has to go to writer-director Ronald F. Maxwell and stunt coordinator/second unit director Steve M. Boyum for capturing the madness of the battle scenes.

Maxwell has tried to make this something that works on the big screen as well as on TV. In addition to the theatrical release version, he has also cut a 4 1/2 -hour edition (six hours with commercials) that will run on Turner’s TNT cable channel in 1994 as a three-part miniseries, and has also prepared a 5 1/2-hour version for homevideo release.

“Gettysburg” succeeds as a motion picture event, and as a re-creation of a pivotal chapter of American history. After a summer of flash and sizzle, audiences may be ready for a healthy dose of substance.

August 13, 2009

To swallow "Elizabethtow…

Filed under: Uncategorized — faithofmyfathersblog @ 5:56 pm

To swallow "Elizabethtown" without experiencing a sharp tummy cramp of disbelief, you have to accept Orlando Bloom as a tormented soul. Why, the boy is so emotionally hobbled he can’t respond to the blond, uber-adorable Kirsten Dunst.

Let’s delve into Orlando’s pain, shall we? He’s Drew Baylor, a shoe designer from Oregon whose latest creation has incurred company losses of close to $1 billion and led to his firing. Despondent, he drives home and seats himself on a Rube Goldbergian suicide device — an exercycle with a mounted dagger rigged to stab the rider. All one has to do is pedal furiously. This is not what your fitness instructor means by negative gain.


Kirsten Dunst, left, pursues Orlando Bloom in the romantic comedy “Elizabethtown.” (By Neal Preston — Paramount Pictures, Via Reuters)

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This is exactly when the phone rings. No, it’s not Bloom’s agent telling him to leave the set before his career implodes, it’s Drew’s sister Heather (Judy Greer), who informs Drew that their father, Mitchell, has passed away. It happened while he was visiting his old friends and relatives in Elizabethtown, Ky. Heather says Drew’s mother, Hollie (Susan Sarandon) would like her son to fly to Elizabethtown, cremate Mitch and bring his ashes home to Oregon. It would help, too, if he made nice with the Kentucky kin; they’re still mad at Hollie for stealing Mitch away, oh, 20 years ago.

So Drew is off the suicide machine and onto the plane to Kentucky. Enter Dunst, as Claire, a flight attendant who, judging by her wide grin, seems to be lying in wait for him. Drew’s the only passenger on this flight (like that ever happens), which gives her time to talk to Drew about her obsession with the mystique of names, the best way to drive to Elizabethtown and, most importantly, the road map to her big, home-fried heart.

Drew, still mopey about the shoe catastrophe and thinking about his Elizabethtown mission, isn’t responsive at first. But not long after he meets his father’s people and checks into a hotel, loneliness sets in. He reaches for the phone number Claire left him and . . . oh, you know.

Writer-director Cameron Crowe’s most recent stumble, "Vanilla Sky," continues without interruption into "Elizabethtown." It’s hard to believe the creative mind that gave us "Almost Famous," "Jerry Maguire," "Say Anything" and "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" looked up with satisfaction after typing 117 pages of this.

Speaking of killer exercycles, "Elizabethtown" comes across as little more than repedaled "Garden State." In both films, a prodigal son of sorts returns to the old home state because of the death of a parent, gets caught up in a world of offbeat characters and is ultimately saved by the love of an eccentric young woman.

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The crucial difference? "Garden State" was a good movie. Writer-director Zach Braff made an appealing returning son, and Natalie Portman was a charm as his nutballish savior. You really believed she could redeem souls. The locals (from New Jersey) were wonderfully memorable: Remember Peter Saarsgard as the gravedigger who steals necklaces from the dead?

In "Elizabethtown," the Kentucky contingent, including Aunt Dora (Paula Deen), Uncle Dale (Loudon Wainwright III), cousin Bill (Bruce McGill) and Lynyrd Skynrd cover band singer Jessie (Paul Schneider), practically carries the word "zany" aloft on billboards. The movie’s best shot at wild-card endearment comes from Sarandon’s Hollie, who makes the trip to Elizabethtown to deliver a heartfelt speech about Mitch. Her intended showstopper is a brand new tap-dance shuffle — to "Moon River" — and she brings the house down, but only because the actors were paid to applaud.

Bloom’s inability to convey convincing emotion is manifest; if he has any allure in this movie, it’s got to be the hair gel. Dunst is an appealing presence in most movies, but here she’s reduced to a strangely ethereal stalker. She’s always appearing behind him, and eventually he becomes happy to see her, but the phrase "restraining order" comes to mind. For all the time she and Bloom spend together, there is surprisingly little magic — just the surface appeal of two attractive people making (or almost making) kissy face. The deepest banter exchanged between them, in fact, comes at the end of a mammoth cell-phone conversation.

"Should we hang up now?" Claire asks.

Definitely.

Elizabethtown (117 minutes, at area theaters) is rated PG-13 for profanity and some sexual references.

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