Oh, the irony. The Coens choose to begin their murderous and deceitful foray into the mafia genre with an impassioned and self-righteous sermon from a mob under-boss on the importance of ethics. Like all other Coen brothers' films, the tone is set right away.
Another thing that gets set from the very beginning of this story is the audience's need to pay attention. The film is fast-paced, quick-witted, and twisted to the point where, as one character puts it, "up is down; black is white," and nothing is what it seems. Following our main character, Tom (played to perfection by Gabriel Byrne), through his many (mainly self-inflicted) reversals of fortune and trying to figure his complex and seemingly contradictory motivations and loyalties can be dizzying. However, the quality of the writing, the performances, the photography, the sound design, and the general production values make the effort well worth it. Every character is quirky, flawed, and interesting enough to be the star, and every actor plays their character accordingly (with special notice of John Turturro, who is as deliciously slimy as Bernie as I have ever seen any actor be as anyone). One of the most important trademarks of the (writer, director, producer) Coen brothers team has to be their use of subtle symbolism and subtext to add layers of meaning underneath their stories (usually involving a dream) -- making each film a kind of contemporary fable. This film, perhaps, accomplishes this more elegantly than any other (with the possible exception of another Coen brothers film, No Country for Old Men. I won't spoil it here; but if you watch this film, pay very close attention to each character's hat (or in at least one case, toupee). It's a small element with an enormous impact (perhaps this film is about ethics after all), and it helps elevate this film from just another mafia movie to just another Coen masterpiece.
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With the increasing use of fictional elements in documentary films (especially in modern, performative works) and the increased use of documentary elements in fictional narratives (psuedo-documentary or mockumentary pieces), the lines dividing fiction, true stories, and films based on a true stories have become increasingly blurred. The blended genre, often called "docudrama," has offered audiences plenty of heavily-slanted and overly-manipulative garbage as well as a few well-crafted and poignant explorations of real human drama. Near the top of those very best examples of this relatively new genre, in company with brilliant films like The Battle of Algiers, Hotel Rwanda, The Bang Bang Club, and Black Hawk Down, shines Captain Phillips.
Even if you are familiar with the true events surrounding the hijacking of the Maersk Alabama by Somali pirates (the first American cargo ship to by hijacked in 200 years -- for those of you who like trivia), Paul Greengrass' direction and Billy Ray's screenplay will keep you fastened to the screen. The performances are beyond flawlessly genuine and the impeccable structure and rhythm of the film simultaneously build the intensity and hold to an almost banal and ridiculous realism. These keep the film from turning into an action movie and give it the stronger suspense and emotion of a personal connection. In Ray's hands the characters (even the bad guys) are given respect and substance without changing their roles or excusing their actions. The writing, performances, and directing, in short, move both the story and the audience's compassion with consummate skill. Captain Phillips does what a great docudrama should do: entertains, intrigues, and makes its point without giving in to the overt preaching or lack of moral themes many contemporary films favor.
This film is one of the all-time classics -- it won Academy Awards for Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Musical Score, and Best Original Song; it was nominated for Best Sound, Best Director, and Best Picture. This movie is about as well put together as a movie can get.
Legendary screenwriter, William Goldman, gifts the characters with sharp, witty, quotable dialogue which Paul Newman and Robert Redford deliver with deadpan perfection. What little time the supporting cast gets, they use well (with a particular emphasis on Strother Martin's unforgettably "colorful" performance as Percy Garris. Burt Bacharach's 60s-vibe score sounds a little odd for a western, but it offers a tone that period music just wouldn't deliver. The real gem of this film, though, is Conrad Hall's photography. Intricately and beautifully crafted, the images are the main storytelling vocabulary. There is heart, metaphor, character, and action in every frame of this masterpiece. Film buffs and other careful viewers are treated to subtle nuances in lighting, angle, framing, and composition that enhance each line of dialogue, each action sequence, and the theme as a whole. Stunning. Of course, as is the case in most American films from the late 1960s, the political commentary is heavy and certainly dark (compare this film to 1967s similarly-themed Bonnie and Clyde), but Hill's directing and Goldman's writing keep it from being ponderous or overwhelmingly obvious. The commentary reaches the audience naturally, and the conclusion loses none of its power or humanity pandering to the era. Overall, if you're looking for a great ride and a nearly perfect example of filmmaking, this is your movie. |
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SAXTON'S FILM PICKS
People are always asking me what my favorite movies are, so I thought I'd make a list with reviews. I'll try to add a new pick every so often until my huge list of favorites is complete.
If you've seen one (or more) of the films, please add your own (appropriate) comments and reviews. Archives
May 2014
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