Quick(ish) takes - Four films

In reverse alphabetical order:

TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY (1979 BBC)

I always enjoy a good British espionage tale, so I was very excited to hear about the release of this year's cinematic take on John le Carre's Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.  I hadn't read the book yet and didn't think that I could finish it in time for the film's release.

So I decided to do the next best thing: rent the 6-hour BBC TV series starring this man:

Source

Sir Alec Guinness plays the lead, George Smiley.  Though the series consists almost entirely of people sitting and talking over tea, Guinness's caramel-and-cognac voice makes it the experience painless.  The structure itself is pretty solid, so, if you can keep up with all of the names, the quiet drama is enjoyable too.  But the biggest pleasure is watching Guinness spin 47 different tones of quiet as Smiley finds the mole in The Circus.


SWEETGRASS (2010)

Hello. I am a sheep. Are you a sheep too? (Source)

Visual anthropologists Ilisa Barbash and Lucien Castaing-Taylor shot, edited, and produced this true document -- no interviews, no narration, no exposition -- of the final cowboy-led herding of three thousand sheep across southern Montana.  Incredibly beautiful, but not romanticized, this film gets its cameras down to sheep eye level to follow each struggle and way up to the top of lush mountains to view the fuzzy white dots under sweeping cloud shadows.

I had thought that this was going to be a quiet meditative film, so I queued it up late at night.  But what I didn't account for was what 110 minutes of sheep bleating would actually sound like.  I had to close our windows so the neighbors wouldn't wonder what the hell was going on in our apartment.  Right before I lowered the film's volume to a whisper, one of the two cowboys flat-out loses his patience with the herd and cusses them out so spectacularly that I had to rewind it for a second time to take notes.  The cowboy then calls his mother and whines to her in more detail any neurotic Woody Allen character.

So nothing here is glorified.  Sheep are graphically born and graphically perish.  The cowboys work very hard and clearly struggle with their labor and never address their unseen future.  I can recommend this, but only to those with the fortitude to listen to crying sheep all night.


RUN LOLA RUN (1998)

On the opposite end of the tonal and kinetic spectrum, an old favorite of mine: Run Lola Run!

Lola, you're going the wrong way! (Source)

Run Lola Run was such an enjoyable breath of fresh air when I first saw it thirteen years ago.  I'd just started film school.  Was working hard to hone story structure in my first few scripts.  But then I watched this by myself in a mostly empty theatre somewhere on The Westside.  It seared something in my neural impulses.  It was lightning fast, fun, and brilliant.  It simultaneously smashed and followed screenplay structure edicts.  It also got me hooked on trance music.

It has aged pretty well.  One can feel its pulse and fearless cinematic bliss throughout so much of our current visual entertainment.  With all of Tom Tykwer's great visuals flying around, Franka Portente holds the center.  She's more than just the physical embodiment of Red, Blue, and Green light.  She's a fantastic protagonist that will run through time and space to save the life of her doofus boyfriend.

If you've never seen it, rent it, turn off the lights, and crank up your speakers.


THE COMPANY MEN (2010)

I really liked this film.  Saw it twice in three days because I wanted to share it with Kristen.  Ostensibly, the film is about white collar employees who are laid off when a transportation company starts trying to appeal to its stock holders in the midst of the recession.  While that subject matter is bold -- no one else in the major American cinema is even attempting to address the effect of the recession -- what connected with me was its portrayal of the male ego in flux.

How do we define ourselves as men?  What happens when we fail at the one thing we're good at?  What happens when it has been taken from us?  It's not just a question for the upper middle class, nor is it just for blue collar workers.  It also affects artists, writers, and musicians.  When your art, your work, your bliss vanishes, what's left?  It's not just bourgeois, it's not just theory.  It's chemical.  It tints our reality.

One possible answer is to look beyond oneself, to see your family, friends, and peers.  We don't suffer alone, though we choose to.  I think many previous generations equated their jobs with their living being.  To me, this film begins to show where that falls apart and what happens to the male ego as a result.

It's not a perfect film.  The writing and directing can be a bit on-the-nose.  But its flaws are forgivable.

Source

Tommy Lee Jones is a treasure.  His face, alone, makes every film better.  It must be a pleasure for gaffers and DPs to light that glorious mug.  Heck, here's another pic:

Source

The other actors shine as well.  Ben Affleck has begun to master the ability to play a conceited A-hole for whom we still have sympathy; we want him to be broken down and built back up humbly.  Kevin Costner, yes that Kevin Costner, is enjoyable in a solid supporting part.  And I can't keep my eyes off of Rosemarie DeWitt, who plays Ben Affleck's wife.  Maybe she reminds me of this one real life wife I know.

Finally, I recommend this film because it was nice to see two folks from the Hollywood Left (Affleck and director John Wells) and two folks from the Hollywood Right (Jones and Craig T. Nelson) work together to make a film about matters far beyond politics.

Just because:

Single Malt Report: Tomintoul 16 year old

(Please see the updated review from 2016!)

Distillery: Tomintoul
Age: 16 years old
Region: Highlands - Speyside
Alcohol by Volume: 40%

From Royal Mile Whiskies:
Tomintoul - pronounced 'Tomintowel' - is Scotland's highest village and has become infamous for regularly being cut off due to heavy snow.

From The Bible:
The distillery was built in the 1960s and is modern in appearance, with large warehouses and no pagoda roofline.  The wildness of the surroundings contrasts with the delicacy of the district's malts.  Tomintoul has traditionally seemed the lightest among them in flavor, although it has a little more body than its neighbor Tamnavulin.

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One tweet:

@kravitz_hubris Tomintoul 16yr '09, 5cL from UK. MUCH more complex than 10yr. Sherry subtle. Earthy grainy palate. Wet hay finish. #SingleMaltReport

8/20/11

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Source

thekrav's notes:

Part of a 3-pack of 50mL Tomintoul bottles that I purchased at Fortnum and Mason in London.  I reported on the first bottle, the 10-year, here.

[A correction from the 10-year's notes: Tomintoul was recently purchased from White & Mackay by the smaller independent bottler, Angus Dundee Distillers.  Angus Dundee's only other distillery is the quite swell Glencadam.]

Compared to the 10-year, the 16-year is the wild child older brother.  Where the nose, palate, and finish of the younger whisky was as mild and inoffensive as some blended whiskies, the 16-year was hot stuff.  Peals of grains and wild vegetation push the sherry into the background in the nose and flavor.  The wet hay finish felt warm and lovely.  It has a thin texture like its brethren and a color of light honey.

The only thing disappointing about the drinking experience was that the little bottle only held 50mL!  There was actually a lot of other flavors zipping around that I couldn't really catch.  Thusly this is at the top of my list of additions to The Liquor Cabinet.

The pricing is very reasonable considering that it's only $8-10 more than the 10-year and it's at least twice (not real math) as good.  As a Speyside it's mellower than an Islay or Island whisky, yet it's more exciting and complicated than many bestsellers from its region.

Pricing - Good at $58
Rating - 88

Please be good to each other.

Ten years ago, I sat on the living room floor in the three bedroom apartment that I'd shared with Sean and Kevin, watching the World Trade Center buildings burn and the Pentagon smolder......and I joked around, spouting conspiracy theories.  But my actions were a cover.

My brother was working in DC and lived near the Pentagon, I couldn't reach him.  And I was trying to remember if my dad's flight from Boston to LA was on the 10th or the 11th.  And I couldn't reach him.  So my first emotional response was to not deal with it.

The black smoke, the crumbling giants, the monstrous rolling gray sandstorm swallowing downtown Manhattan, were all so visually intense that, at first sight, it was easy to forget that there were thousands of human beings caught in it.  Thousands of families lost loved ones that morning.

I was not going to post today, but I already received an email first thing this morning spouting political poison.  The email was largely preaching to the choir and on any other day I'd probably agree with its sentiments, but I don't this morning.

The acrid political venom, the nonstop hate speech coming from every medium, and the monstrous rolling gray sandstorm of self-centered divisiveness swallowing the Left and Right make it easy to ignore how we're damaging our future.  Whether you think al Qaeda or shadowy conspirators were behind the 9/11 events, you have to consider that the attackers got what they wanted in the end.  We are weakened.  This country is no longer united.  We go out of our way to hurt and insult each other.  We do it with flamboyance when cameras, microphones, and computers are around.  And though, yes, I agree with one particular political side, I'm really tired of this.

It takes work to keep this American family together.  Nothing good comes from it splitting itself up for selfish reasons.  If we're all walking around as nothing but American Individuals then we are lazily shirking our responsibilities to each other.  We all need to be healthy, financially stable, educated, and loved.

I am thankful that my brother and father got to their homes safely ten years ago.  And I am thankful for all of the phone calls that came pouring in that day.  I feel blessed by the good news and support.  Thousands of others received the opposite and there's nothing that they can do to get back what and who they've lost.  So, no matter how you view this tenth anniversary -- the start of our fear-based living or a tragedy that killed members of our American Family -- please remember it by being unafraid, selfless, and loving.  And see how much of that you can take with you into the future.

Single Malt Report: Tomintoul 10 year old

Distillery: Tomintoul
Age: 10 years old
Region: Highlands - Speyside
Alcohol by Volume: 40%

From Royal Mile Whiskies:
Tomintoul - pronounced 'Tomintowel' - is Scotland's highest village and has become infamous for regularly being cut off due to heavy snow.

From The Bible:
The distillery was built in the 1960s and is modern in appearance, with large warehouses and no pagoda roofline.  The wildness of the surroundings contrasts with the delicacy of the district's malts.  Tomintoul has traditionally seemed the lightest among them in flavor, although it has a little more body than its neighbor Tamnavulin.

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One tweet:

@kravitz_hubris Tomintoul 10yr, 5cL bottle from UK. Light in color & feel. Cheese & cinnamon nose. Sweet start then salty. Brief finish. #SingleMaltReport

6/9/11

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thekrav's notes:

Part of a 3-pack of 50mL Tomintoul bottles that I purchased at Fortnum and Mason in London.  The other two bottles will be reported on in the very near future.

Tomintoul was recently purchased by White & Mackay, so much of its product is likely used in W&M's blends which are very difficult to find in the US.  But many of Tomintoul's single malts can be found in well-stocked liquor stores around The States.

I drank this neat.  Its color, a light sunny gold.  The nose was uncut grass, cinnamon, and mild cheese.  The palate itself had less character than the nose, a mild sweet evolving into an inoffensive salty with an almost watery texture.  Its finish was as brief as this punctuation.

Not a rave review, but not terrible.  Though I truly do not understand the pricing -- I can get two bottles of a superior 12yr Speyside at the same price as one of these.  The good news is that the other two Tomintouls that I've tried are significantly better.

Pricing - Overpriced! at $50  (Ed. note 1/1/14: my my, how times have changed)
Rating - 71

Single Malt Report: Balvenie 12 year old Doublewood

Distillery: The Balvenie
Age: 12 years old
Finish: Doublewood (matured in Bourbon oak 12yrs, finished in Sherry oak for a few months)
Region: Highlands - Speyside
Alcohol by Volume: 43%

Distillery Description, from Royal Mile Whiskies:
Right next door to its sister distillery Glenfiddich, and owned by the Grant family which founded both distilleries. Balvenie was built next to the castle of the same name in 1892, on the back of the success of Glenfiddich. The distillery still uses some of its own malt from barley produced on the Grant family farms. Although Glenfiddich is still the market leader in terms of sales, Balvenie is generally regarded as the stronger of the two in terms of quality across the range, which include some stunning wood-finished whiskies produced long before it became fashionable to do so.

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I've tweeted twice about Balvenie 12 year old Doublewood:

@kravitz_hubris Balvenie 12yr Doublewood @ Oak Fire - priced hi, generous pour - Speyside creamy, a nutty start, sternum heating finish. #SingleMaltReport

3 June 2011

@kravitz_hubris Balvenie 12yr DblWd - A little water brings bananas & caramel to the forefront in both nose & palate. Preferred neat. #SingleMaltReport

7/24/11

Source

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thekrav's notes:

Balvenie is the next door neighbor to Glenfiddich, their land actually abutting, both owned by William Grant & Sons Ltd.  Lining up their 12 year olds, Glenfiddich is more popular, but Balvenie is richer.  I first enjoyed it at Oak Fire Grill on La Cienega.  It didn't come cheaply but the pour was a nice size.  It was a surprisingly smooth drinking experience, so much so that a bottle of it wound up in my liquor cabinet.

When served neat, the sherry is very up front in the nose.  It has a almond nutty start then gets very buttercreamy.  The finish is hot and full of stamina.

When served with a little water, bananas and caramel push the sherry nose aside.  They're also in the far forefront of the palate.  The finish mellows out and almost vanishes.

Personally, I'm not a fan of the banana flavor so I prefer it neat.  It's an easy Speyside so it makes a great gateway Scotch.

Pricing - Acceptable at $45
Rating - 84 (when served neat)

Orpheus deux fois

Last night, I spent most of my dreamtime getting stuck in labyrinths.  That’s probably my Unconscious working through my conscious struggle of trying to breakthroughs with my new writing project.

I’m going to honor Hypnos (and perhaps one of the Muses) by presenting these reviews of Orphée (Jean Cocteau, 1950) and Orfeu Negro (Marcel Camus, 1959), two takes on the story of Orpheus.


The story of Orpheus

According to the greek poets, Orpheus was the son of King Oeagrus and the muse Calliope.  Thanks to the gifts from his mother and her friend Apollo, Orpheus was the master of song.  His music could shame birdsong and cause the rivers to change course.  It was greater than any music the gods themselves could create.

Orpheus fell in love with Eurydice but on their wedding day she was bitten by a viper and died instantly.  In his grief, Orpheus travelled to the underworld in order to get her bring back from the dead.  His music gained him entrance, got him onto Charon’s boat, soothed Cerebus, and won the hearts of Hades and Persephone.  They agreed to let Eurydice return with him to the upper world, but with one condition: as she would walk behind him during the trip back to the earth, he could not, under any circumstance, turn around to see her until they were both above.  Orpheus agreed to this and began his travel back with Eurydice behind him.  At the edge of the upper world, out of anxiety and excitement, Orpheus turned around to see her.  But it was too early; she had not yet crossed out of the underworld.  She vanished, forever.

Orpheus finished his life angry with the gods, no longer worshiping any of them.  Dionysus’ followers tore his body to pieces and scattered them into the river Hebrus.  His lyre went to the heavens to sit amongst the stars.  The Muses buried his body at the base of Olympus, where the nightingales still sing over his grave.  Ultimately, his soul joined Eurydice in the underworld.

Now I’m going to take a look at two cinematic takes on this tale:

Orphée (Jean Cocteau, 1950)

One important element in film (and art) criticism is to ignore the author’s intent and instead focus on the individual film’s standing within the medium and its relationship to the viewer.  Unfortunately, all of the formal studies on Orphée that I’ve read focus entirely on Cocteau’s intent:  “Cocteau said ____ meant ____”.  I’m going to ignore Cocteau’s intent because his work should stand on its own.

(GREAT screenshot from sohothedog.blogspot.com)

Orphée takes place in an alternate version of post-war France.  Death falls in love with Orpheus.  Eurydice can’t get Orpheus to love her.  Death’s chauffeur falls in love with Eurydice. Orpheus is perpetually in love with Orpheus.  Death is ultimately willing to make great sacrifices in order to bring Orpheus and Eurydice together.

Let me focus on the good stuff first.

My favorite conceit (in a film of plenty conceit) is that Death, known as The Princess, falls in love with Orpheus.  María Casares (fantastic in Children of Paradise) is luminous and lovely as The Princess.  Conflicting emotions burn quietly within her until they tumble out in short bursts.  The struggle between her job and her desires really makes her the protagonist as she undergoes the deepest arc of all the characters.

The special effects surrounding Death are done all in camera and so well placed that despite of (or because of) their dated nature they work hypnotically.  Bodies are lifted up off the floor.  Walls are climbed horizontally.  People glide through watery mirrors effortlessly.  It sets up an atmosphere of dream and dread.

François Périer (great in Le Samourai) shines in his ghostlike role as Death’s chauffer, torn between being Orpheus’ confidant and Eurydice’s lover.  The leather clad motorcyclists as the harbingers of Death are a great touch; you know someone’s dying when they come racing through the scene.  I liked the quick camera-negative Nosferatu homage in the first trip to the underworld.  The mysterious radio station from nowhere, churning out poetry, works well as a metaphor for that stream of inspiration that all artists desire to capture.

So, now the rest.  Jean Marais is Orpheus in name only.  He’s really Narcissus.  The film gives very little proof -- via his words and actions -- that he’s in love with anyone but himself.  Obsessed with his poetry and his artist’s voice, he pays little attention to the women who love him.  All the mirrors, though they visually represent gateways to death, work doubly as a mode for Narcissus Orpheus to gaze at his handsomeness.

(Source: filmreference.com)

Marais was Cocteau’s longtime lover and muse (also cast in Beauty and the Beast).  I only bring this up because the emotional/sexual bias behind his casting does not affect the film positively.  Marais doesn’t act or emote other than to sneer at the people caring for him.  He verbally abuses his wife, sneers (again), sneers some more, ignores her, and is complicit in her death with little believable remorse.  Because Marais brings nothing else in his performance to clear up the character, there’s no reason for the audience to care if he winds up with Eurydice at the end. 

And that’s not a good thing…unless Cocteau’s intent was for the word of the poet to supersede all emotional attachments – but again, if Cocteau can’t communicate it in his storytelling without external explanation, it’s not successful art.

Orfeu Negro (Marcel Camus, 1959)

If Cocteau’s take on Orpheus was Theory and Brain, Camus’ interpretation is Passion and Heart.

(Source: downtownindependent.com)

Running away from Death, Eurydice (Marpessa Dawn, even her name is pretty!) escapes to Rio de Janeiro on the eve of Carnival.  There she meets trolley driver Orfeo (Breno Mello) who has just gotten engaged to the psychotic Mira (Lourdes de Oliveira).  They fall in love, make love, then head out to the big party.  Though he tries to protect her, Orfeo ultimately loses Eurydice to Death.  He searches the city for her soul.  Finds it, then loses it when he gazes back to look at it.  He winds up only with her dead body and a dark fate of his own.

Often this sweaty, fleshy, feverish film feels like it was just a good excuse to plop a film crew in the midst of Carnival.  There’s non-stop music, dancing, and swirling color.  And it works so well for the storytelling.  Crazed, the worlds of reality and magic crash together until you can’t tell one from the other.  You feel the South American magical realism, present in so much great literature, burst forth.

(3 screenshots, courtesy of my MacBook)

The film, so rich with Brazilian flavor, keeps the original Greek story elements intact.  Orfeo is a grand musician.  All of the animals throughout (including Cerebus, the underworld's guard dog) are inspired by his music.  His voice calls Eurydice’s soul forth from the dead.  And, in a brilliant switch, Orfeo repeatedly ascents into death.

So many great images. The hospital as the land of the dead – a body on a stretcher is wheeled into a room, where despite overhead lights, remains pitch black.  A Limbo of a bureaucratic hallway swirling with papers.  An intense Macumba ceremony, glowing with reds and oranges.  And Rio itself, playing a main character.

The biggest contrast between these two films lies in the final images.  In Orphée's last moment, we see the fates of The Princess, Orpheus, and Eurydice and, because of Orpheus’ deep narcissism, the fates feel unearned.  In Orfeu Negro, the final shot of the children playing music and dancing amongst the animals is a lovely coda to which all of the preceding story and images build.  In neither case is the message blind hope, but – like the original Greek story – our world continues after the players have met their fates.

(Lovely screenshot from thisismyrelaxedexpression.blogspot.com)