HopkinsCinemAddicts

“For the Love of Movies”: A Film Review about People who Review Films

 

In today’s internet savvy society, the term “everyone’s a critic” has become a veritable reality. Now, everybody has the forum to not only express their ideas on film to their peers, but also to distribute their opinions to a vast and anonymous public audience. However, long before the advent of internet blogging and twitter, film criticism has had a long and fascinating history that, at least according to director Gerald Peary, warrants examination. “For the love of Movies: The story of American Film Criticism”— a recent documentary and Peary’s directorial debut— explores this history and follows the progression of film criticism in America. “For the Love of Movies” has two projects that work together to create a complete picture of the film reviewing industry. First, it examines the history of film criticism from small plot synopses in newspapers to the varied forms in different media that are available today. At the same time, it investigates the nature of past and contemporary individuals who have held the title “film critic” and seeks to understand this profession, define its purpose, and assess its questionable future. Ultimately, the film claims that this profession— which is threatened by the availability of film reviews on the web— is above all else the product of a profound passion for film and is a valuable asset to the industry and its audience. However, while the historical information is fascinating and the film critic industry well examined, the documentary’s relationship with, and message for, the rise of web reviews is a bit unclear. 

Peary divides “For the love of movies” into six different chapters in which he describes a two decade period as it pertains to film criticism. The first era, which is called “The Dawn of Criticism”, extends from 1907 until 1929. The earliest movie reviews, narrator Patricia Clarkson explains, began as simple plot summaries in trade papers. Quickly, some figures like Frank E Wood and Robert Sherwood began realizing the unique nature of the movies— a medium that is more than “filmed theater”— and developed theories as to how to measure their quality. These writers even formed relationship with filmmakers and obtained roles in making movies in addition to viewing them.

The documentary lays out five more of these time periods, however, mostly focuses on Sherwood’s and Wood’s inheritors— the critical innovators of subsequent eras. Writers like Manny Farber, Vincent Canby, Bosley Crowther, Andrew Sarris, and Pauline Kael all contributed to the discipline in their own significant and unprecedented way. “For the Love of Movies,” which details these contributions by quoting passages from their articles and showing interview footage of these individuals, wonderfully exhibits these personalities and puts a human face to these figures who are so often reduced to a name in a newspaper.

The film also lays out the different tensions and dynamics that defined this profession. For instance, Bosley Crowther, the New York Time’s main critic and the most powerful critical voice in film in the forties and fifties, would look for the moral element in the film, and promote movies with a positive message. However, the younger generation— writers like Pauline Kael and Andrew Sarris— felt that movies should be judged on aesthetic merit alone. They did not feel that the movie’s moral fiber was relevant to the review and believed that Crowther was “out of touch.”

While Kael and Sarris fell on the same side in this debate, the movie spends a lot of time on the famous conflict between these two powerful voices in the movie review business. During the sixties, Sarris, who wrote for the village voice, and Kael, who wrote for the New Yorker, became the two of the most influential critiques. Their conflict started with Sarris’ acceptance of the French Auteur theory that was popular in the seventies. Kael strongly discredited the auteur theory— which states that the director determined the movie and was an artist no different than a painter— and unabashedly slighted Sarris’s ideas. However, eventually Kael also became somewhat of an aurterist herself, only she supported her directors while Sarris championed other directors. This rivalry is an interesting one and demonstrates the internal dynamics of the word of movie criticism quite well. With the exploration of these tensions, “For the Love of Movies” shows that the film criticism industry was also changing and dynamic and any recent challenge, it suggests, is only the newest point on the evolution of this medium.

Interwoven into this narrative are questions that are posed to a number of contemporary critics— Liza Shwatrzbaum, AO Scott, and Owen Gleiberman to name a few— on the nature of their profession. Questions like “what qualifies you to be a film critic?” “did you always want to be a film critique” “Does your partner have to also be movie-crazy?” are peppered throughout and serve as a supplement to the historical account. In the responses to “what qualifies you as a film critic,” the general consensus is reached that critics do not actually have anything that proves their ability. “There is no degree or piece of paper” AO Scott explains that gives a critic the authority to relay his opinions on film. One critic even goes so far as to say that it actually is only to due to “sheer dumb luck” that he gets to have the job of attending movies.

While I believe that the documentary relays a fascinating history and successfully characterizes the role of a film critic, the take-home message is somewhat unclear. The movie opens up with a quote that is more in the nature of a hurricane relief ad, “Today film criticism is under siege... 28 reporters have lost their jobs over the last several years” The obvious reason for these jobs losses is the virtual (no pun intended) obsolescence of printed film criticism because of the availability of free film reviews on the web. However, while they seem to bemoan that fact of this loss, in actuality the film does not critique this newer form of criticism. In fact, they name a few reasons why this new trend is good for movie audiences and the movies in general.

First, at least according to film blogging king, Harry Knowles, the rise in the citizen as film reviewer is sign that more people are “thinking critically.” Film criticism on the web does not signify a decline is the standards of film critique, as some may think, but is rather a testament to the younger generation’s engagement with higher thought. Moreover, as America does not have a monolithic pop culture, there is no one critic who can speak for everyone. The cacophony of voices on films is well suited to the heterogeneous society we live in. Michael Bay, for instance, is hated by movie critics and yet adored by many viewers. Perhaps, there is a need then to have people with different aesthetic sentiments to cater to different tastes.

Ultimately, the film decides that it is and has always been a field that is about the eponymous “love of movies.” The critics do their job because of their passion for film but also the entire profession is really for the continued improvement of the film industry. Directors and actors benefit have an added incentive to make a movie as good as possible and critics have a long tradition, dating back to Sherwood’s time, of giving their opinions in the movie-making process. Most importantly, these critics spark conversations, whether it be between Kael and Sarris or a cab driver and AO Scott, and elicit ideas and dialogue over the common viewing of films. With these reasons, they certainly make a convincing case for the continued importance of this profession; however, I had trouble shedding any tears over the rise of online film criticism— especially as I consider the forum in which this is being published.

Prince of Potential: Why I’m Excited for the New Robin Hood Movie

 

  

  During Super Bowl XLIV, I got my first glimpse of the upcoming Robin Hood Film. Instead of excitement, the trailer elicited the following reaction from most of the people in the room: “Really? Another one?” After all, it is reasonable to think that this English folk hero, who has spawned at least five movies not to mention countless television series and books, may be suffering from over exposure. However, after reexamining four of the most prominent Robin Hood features, I’ve decided that these prior versions have all been lacking and that this new adaptation has the opportunity to make an important— nay, an essential— contribution to cinema.

The legend of Robin Hood includes some rather heavy themes like oppression, tyranny and a lot of violence; nevertheless, most of the Robin Hood films approach this figure with a surprising amount of levity. In many versions of the legend, Robin is captured in the crusades and, upon his return to England, sees the suffering of the people of Nottingham at the hands of the tyrannical Prince John. In response, he organizes a rogue band to inflict revenge on this despot. As a result of these conflicts, many people die and undergo gory medieval torture. Moreover, the myth brings up complex questions on the relationship of a ruler to his people and the use of rebellion as a tool for the subjugated.

Despite this mature subject matter, the 1938 adaptation, Adventures of Robin Hood, puts the “merry” in Merry Men. While the characters talk a lot about freedom and Saxon peasants are tortured and killed by the Norman nobles, ultimately, they are acting within a world of bloodless (quite literally— there is death but there is no visible blood) duels, comical villains, and inevitable happy endings. Not surprisingly, the 1973 Disney version also does not include violence and gore. This cartoon does incorporate the serious subtext of unjust governments and crippling poverty, but it is mostly a barrage of talking chickens, bears, and foxes singing optimistic tunes. Thus, while both films foster an awareness and distaste of Prince John’s illegitimate and unjust reign, they do so in a lighthearted manner without the drama and action that could easily be included in an adaptation of this loaded tale.  

In contrast, 1991’s Prince of Thieves is a more grim film and certainly has it share of blood and gore; however, the movie itself is not that good. The film opens with Robin of Locksley, played by Kevin Costner, with a wild beard and tattered clothing, trying to escape from an Ottoman prison. He manages to escape but has to leave his friend behind to a terrible fate. Following this trauma, Robin returns to England and is greeted by the site of his destroyed estate and murdered family. While Prince features these grave elements that the other films lack, I believe one reviewer put it well when he said, “it wasn’t exactly the swashbuckling masterpiece it could have been.”[1] Ultimately, the film fails in that the script isn’t that great and Kevin Costner is hard to take seriously in tights.

In fact, the movie’s over-the-top melodrama and mediocrity made it an easy target for Mel Brook’s Robin Hood version two years later. Unlike the other versions discussed, Men in Tights isn’t really about the Robin Hood tale. Instead, it is about how this legend has been depicted in film. The movie parodies the costumes, excessive gaiety, and homosexual undertones of Errol Flynn and his troop and also pokes fun at the obscene violence of Prince and its attempt to incorporate a black character (seen Morgan Freedman as Azeem and Dave Chapelle as Achoo) into an overwhelmingly white story. Ultimately, this spoof demonstrates that Robin Hood films have had their weaknesses and that this legend still has untapped cinematic potential.

The trailer of Robin Hood (2010) suggests that this new film may have remedied these issues. In this version, there is no shortage of violence, seriousness or bloodshed. Moreover, it seems like it deals with the issues that the other films do— every line in the trailer has something to do with an illegitimate ruler and the right of the people to fight against tyranny— but in a more serious, convincing manner. Most importantly, it might actually be good. The film is directed my Ridley Scott (Alien, Gladiator, Black Hawk Down) and stars the impressive pairing of Cate Blanchett and Russell Crowe. In addition, Scott and Crowe have already teamed up to tell the story of a disgruntled warrior who champions the people and fights an illegitimate tyrant while showing a lot of leg. And Gladiator 2: Un-Shackled in Sherwood sounds pretty awesome to me.

 

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[1] John J. Puccio. Blu-ray review. First Pulished May 22, 2009.
http://www.dvdtown.com/reviews/blu-ray-robin-hood-prince-of-thieves/7014

 

Border Crossing; Magical Realism in Once Upon A Time in Mexico

 

In his many award winning novels and short stories, Gabriel Garcia Marquez invokes magic, or the seemingly supernatural, in otherwise realistic settings. When asked why he chose to write in this genre, appropriately called Magical Realism, Marquez has said, “my most important problem was destroying the line of demarcation that separates what seems real from what seems fantastic.”[1] Marquez explains that he uses Magical Realism to blur the distinction between the real and the fantastic and explores the limits of both these notions. Furthermore, as this genre demonstrates that reality is also comprised of magical elements, Garcia-Marquez seeks to promote hybridity and prove that everything is made up of different factors and that nothing— nations, families, nor even a single human being— is completely homogeneous. [2]

Like Magical Realism, the Western genre is also concerned with boundaries. However, in its case it is specific boundaries— that of the domestic and the wilderness of the frontier. The Western’s hero, the cowboy, is one who straddles the line between these two worlds. One film that borrows heavily from the Western Genre but also invokes this literary genre is Robert Rodriguez’s Once Upon A Time in Mexico. Mexico appropriately joins these two together because its project is also concerned with boundaries and hyrbridity as it uses a cinematic genre that exemplifies America to tell a story about its neighbor to the south.

Once Upon a Time in Mexico is the third film in the mariachi trilogy directed by Robert Rodriguez and starring Antonio Banderas. The hero, El Mariachi, is a brooding hit man who carries a guitar. In this film, El Mariachi, also referred to simply as El, seeks to disrupt a coup led by a sinister General and financed by a dangerous drug cartel. The film also includes plots about a rogue CIA agent played by Johnny Depp and a Chihuahua-holding fugitive named Billy Chambers. The movie opened to mixed reviews as the plot was seen to be convoluted and the dialogue a bit immature.

While the plot and dialogue are a far-cry from Citizen Kane, Mexico is thematically rich and interesting. Mexico is an overt homage to the Western genre— specifically the work of Sergio Leone. The movie resembles a Western in that it features a number of shootouts, a set that is reminiscent of the Wild West, and a great emphasis on guns and violence. The title of the film explicitly evokes Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West and Rodriguez references other Leone films, like The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, in interviews. Furthermore, like in Leone films, the hero does not have a name and is instead referred to by a nickname. West’s hero, Harmonica, is also named for his musical talents in lieu of a real name and, more famously, Clint Eastwood plays “the man with no name” in a number of Leone films.  

Additionally, I believe this film implicitly owes a lot to the literary genre of Magical Realism and Garcia-Marquez’s work more generally. The hero of this film, El Mariachi, exemplifies the typical heroic cowboy however, as Magical Realism pushes the limits of the real into the fantastic, the talents and accomplishments of this man push the envelope from the heroic to the supernatural. The first scene that shows him is in the form of one character narrating El’s exploits to Depp’s Sands. “He’s a legend, a myth” he claims. In this early sequence, El manages to appear as if from nowhere and defeat a number of men while he remains untouched by a hail of bullets. With this beginning, his character is shrouded in mystery and magic right from the start. In a later scene, he climbs up the wall like a spider and the bullets he uses seem to pack a little more juice than everybody else’s weapons. For instance, on the final scene, he shoots his nemesis, Marquez, and the bullets rip off Marquez’s skin exposing his bone in a rather gory and improbable wound.

Garcia-Marquez is particularly appropriate inspiration in that his work takes place in Spanish-speaking countries and focuses heavily on violence and revolution. Many of the men in Garcia-Marquez’s magnum opus, One Hundred Years of Solitude, fight in wars and get caught up in bloody life-threatening situations. Also, his heroes are often soldiers who are also artists. Like El, Colonel Aureliano Buendía of One Hundred Years of Solitude, excels in the military realm and is also a gifted poet. Furthermore, like the film, works like One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera don’t follow a strict chronology. True to this form, El’s tragic memories unfold in flashbacks at various points in the master narrative.

Mexico uses these two genres for two reasons. First, because this allows Rodriguez to advance the Western as he infuses it with fantasy. Furthermore, these genres are thematically about boundaries as the space in which different entities fuse and interact. Therefore, a second, and perhaps more subtle reason these films invoke both genres is because it is a film about mixtures. Where the spaghetti Westerns were made by Italians and shot in Spain, they still took place in America. This film, however, transplants the American Western into Mexico and thus instills this classic genre with both a magical and multicultural twist and an interesting subtext that examines fusion itself.

 

 

 

 

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[1] Interview with Gabrial Garcia Marquez in Revista Primera Plana - Año V Buenos Aires, 20-26 June 1967 Nº 234, pages 52-55

[2] Bringhurst, Robert. “Coterminous worlds.” Coterminous Worlds: Magical Realism and contemporary post-colinial literature in English. Ed. Elsa LInguati. Atlanta: Rodopi B.V., 1999.