Johnny Simmons

So, 2011 is here and I still have outstanding posts from 2010. So just because I just have to complete the list I’ll give it now, even though it’s dreadfully overdue. I gave you fifteen runners up a couple of months ago – tear jerking moments of the aughts. Here are the final ten. Sometimes it’s difficult to pinpoint the actual cause of tears shed vicariously for cinematic creations, but these ten are most salient.

Potentially Heavy Spoilers ahead: Be Warned

The more I see Brokeback Mountain the less I like it, Michelle Williams is still the only thing I find egregiously poor about it – and it’s still a fine film, just not one I’d go crazy over. I’m never even that convinced of the brilliance that is Heath Ledger’s performance in it (I’d probably pick Jake for best in show); well until the last few moments, that is. The older his character grows the better grip Ledger seems to have on himand that line at the end of the film is just a brilliant line reading. It’s sort of an encapsulation of all the things about the film and Heath makes it work brilliantly. Depressingly.

The entire closing monologue of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a well handled tearjerker. I’d say it’s prosaic, and I wouldn’t mean it as insult. It’s a bit like a role-call of sorts and seeing all the persons who’ve played a role in Benjamin’s life makes me teary eyed for some reason. And, of course, it’s that final line for Daisy that’s the cinch. Fincher’s epic, of sorts, will continue to be polarising but I’ll continue to be a big fan of it.

I’ll be honest, sometimes Bright Star is just a lesson in poetic sadness. It’s that much more brilliant because it’s moving even when it’s just being glib about it. The final scene that Ben and Abbie share together comes to mind immediately. The two have had a fairytale romance of sorts (unconsummated) and both know that he’s going to die in Italy. They lie on the bed, their bodies making a heart, and talk about the future that will never happen. I deliberately avoid romances like these, but I don’t what it is that makes Jane Campion’s tale so brilliant – it’s a “you had to be there” experience”. It’s easily the saddest part of the film for me…a relationship heading nowhere, and fast.

Is there anything more of a killer in 19th century literature than consumption? It’s weird – we already know Satine is dying but Baz distracts us with the elephant medley so that Satine’s death manages to still be surprising and even more ridiculously depressing

I singled out Clarissa Vaughn as my favourite Streep performance of the past decade. She has many moments of brilliance – a number of them opposite Ed Harris; but it’s a solitary scene opposite Jeff Daniels that fits the bill here. The two are reminiscing about their mutual friend and Clarissa gets too caught up in the pass, it’s an odd moment – and probably difficult to pull off. She moves from lucid to snivelling in almost a split second. Her line reading of “Don’t come any closer” is a favourite of mine. I’ve said it before, I don’t always love Streep but when she impresses me it’s brilliant.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but for some reason Fernando Mereilles’ 2005 tour de force (says me) The Constant Gardener doesn’t seem to get the appreciation it deserves. It’s impeccably helmed by Mereilles and despite occasional snatches of incongruity the brilliant performances of Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz make up for it. The Constant Gardener is many things in one – a love story, a thriller, an espionage tale...on and on. In the final moments of the film we may have realised the “whodunit” of the entire thing but there’s no closure until the ghost of Tessa shows up to lead Justin away. It sounds so very schmaltzy but there’s some honest and wonderful about it. Weisz and Fiennes really work excellently together and that (imagined) reunion is just a fine bit of emotion, well played.

Why is the end of Atonement so sad? I can’t say; it just is. Unfulfilled dreams are always depressing, and Vanessa Redgrave is all kinds of brilliant (but that’s a given). She only needs a few moments to make me gloomy, and with the camera on her alone for so much of that monologue she delivers completely. Bring on the waterworks.

We see a number of deaths in The Lord of the Rings series, but it’s the first (main) one that I find the most striking. Sean Bean’s Boromir is unfortunately forgotten, but he’s excellent. He has the tough task of playing the anti-Aragorn character and his final moments are probably the most moving part of the first film. It’s when he tells Aragorn, “I would have followed you, my captain” that’s the cinch though. Mortensen’s facial response is golden.

Revolutionary Road would definitely easily make it on any list of most depressing films of the aughts, well ever to be honest. Depressing, though it is (really, this was one of the most emotionally draining films of the aughts for me), I still can’t help admiring it. It’s a tug-of-war as to who comes out on top – Kate or Leo. They both do excellent work and Kate’s final scenes already make you a little tearful, but as far as tear jerking goes it’s all Leo. When he finds out about April death’s it’s the film’s most harrowing moment (and that’s saying a lot). It all culminates in him running (and crying), from the hospital, from April from the mistakes. It’s a nice bit of direction from Mendes and it’s a brilliant moment for Leo.

The biggest tearjerker of the decade for me wasn’t even any singular moment of sadness – it was just the culmination of hours upon hours of epic fantasy. I was never a big fan of Frodo (Tolkien’s Frodo or Jackson’s) but the final moments of the film as he makes his way away from the Shire as Sam makes his way back works well in its simplicity. But it’s when Annie Lennox’s “Into the West” comes on that the sadness really sinks in. I’m not sure if it’s sadness per se but it’s something akin – okay, maybe it was exhaustion. Still, it’s definitely the biggest reason for waterworks this past decade, for me.

                 

In the face of constant aversion I’m still a hopeless fan of David Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I’ll desist from launching into another interminable diatribe on why it deserves praise, but I will say that one of the things I like about it – that’s quite obvious, but oh well – is gamut of characters covered. True, it’s almost a bildungsroman as all these characters unsubtly help Benjamin develop. I’m loath to picking favourites but – taking Ben, Daisy and Queenie out of the race, gun-to-my-head and I’d single out Tilda Swinton’s Elizabeth Allen who in a weird way emerges as one of the film’s most poignant characters even if she doesn’t really do anything.

           

This is a woman who visibly has a story to tell, that first meeting with Benjamin in the elevator is a lovely moment – what I love most is how Fincher frames Elizabeth as the antithesis of Daisy without ever making her a foil to that inevitable pairing. As a staunch fan of Cate, I don’t ever think of her while Elizabeth is on screen. I’ve never been able to submerge myself in the effusive love for Tilda across the blogoshphere; I haven’t seen enough of her work to. But her attention to subtleties is one of the things that defines her brilliance in The Curious Case of Benjamin, and although structuring Elizabeth’s story as one about swimming is a wee bit bland – I’d be most interested in seeing her do a variation on this character for the duration of an entire film. She has a knack for playing characters with harsher tones, and Elizabeth is no patsy – but there’s that palpable warmth emanating from her, I’d like to see Tilda get on that.

     

Previously
Natalie Portman expands her bit role from Cold Mountain

Patricia Clarkson takes centre stage, from her character Judy in Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Richard and Susan examine their marriage troubles from Babel

I’m still on a semi-break (until tomorrow when most of the horrid exams will be done) but I couldn’t help but take up the baton from Jose and list ten beautiful screen-couples. He gave ten excellent ones, and challenged me to do the same. It’s a task that’s endless because there are so many options to choose from. Should I go only classic? Should I go only modern? Should I take acting into account? Should I include platonic relationships…? What to do…what to do…? Now would probably be the right time to tell you that I’m really neurotic about list making (and everything really, but more on that subsequently). The list is not spontaneous, I put some amount of thought into this – even though it’s very possible I’ve still missed out on a few. I considered beauty of the actors, beauty of the characters and all around loveliness.

                       

I weighed whether or not to include any of Jose’s choices…but I decided not to: though Natalie and Warren in Splendor in the Grass would feature somewhere. So take a look at my un-impulsive list.

                   

From Here to Eternity is more remembered for that other fateful pairing and their gyrations on the beach, thus Monty’s greatest performance is forgotten and so is Reed’s richly deserved Oscar win. He’s playing a soldier in World War II, and she’s playing a hooker with a heart of gold. Reed has got to be one of the most forgotten actors of her generations (and it’s not as if she didn’t star in popular films), though I suppose she doesn’t have that “individual” look of someone like, for example, Elizabeth Taylor. She pairs up excellently, with Clift (though of course, who doesn’t?) and though her arc is not the strongest of the film’s they do pull out good performances whilst looking good.

The muted response to Benjamin Button only continues a year and a half after its release. I was, as I’ve intimated, a fan and though the film loves to lacerate both our stars in cakes of makeup when they finally do correspond in looks and age it is lovely to watch. It’s not just CGI as some of the more snarky dissenters have claimed, although if it is – it’s a flawless job. Cate is not conventionally pretty but she is beautiful to watch and though she’s not the most beautiful woman of her age bracket* (all things being subjective), she and Brad are just lovely to watch here.

Generic? You bet. What can I say, I’m like that. It’s very obvious, which I suppose makes it all the less inspired. Thank God Leo finally was able to cast off his “pretty boy status” (why is it bad for male actors to be good looking, but it’s a prerequisite with the women?). Kate Winslet is gorgeous here, red hair agrees with her and together the two are just beautiful to watch. It’s the sort of pairing that reeks of patency, but it’s still worth mentioning...I mean, how can I bet against them?

           

I hate how Doctor Zhivago is rarely remembered seeing as I consider it to be one of the greatest pieces of the sixties (and my favourite piece from Lean). For me, Julie Christie is a softer version of Glenda Jackson (analogy: Jackson is to Blanchett as Christie is to Kidman). She doesn’t shy away from her looks, though. Notice how her iconic performances make ample use of her beautiful face (even when she’s past the conventional age of beauty). Omar Sharif has always had that very debonair charm that makes him seem to be a very personable man, and he sure has a distinctive face. The two seem as if they’d be an odd couple but in reality meld together so beautifully…hence their inclusion here.

Isn’t this another obvious choice? Maybe it’s the costumes from Sandy Powell that makes them all the more gorgeous…but they still look gorgeous together. Maybe, just maybe, I’m projecting residual Shakespeare love on to his screen incarnation and muse, but I don’t think so. How many ways can you write that they look gorgeous together? Not many. So just look…

REVIEWED (sort of)

Ben Whishaw is almost too good-looking to be considered a man, and there are so many scenes where Cornish strikes me as a Nicole Kidman doppelganger, so it’s already on the list from that. I love Bright Star very much and it continues to grow on me as time goes by I cannot help but say that this is easily one of the most gorgeous young couples last decade. Young love is lovely to watch.

The reformed bad boy and the good Catholic girl is one of those romantic norms that continue to persist. Brando and Saint both won Oscars for their portrayals (deservedly so) and though they don't get romantic lighting or luminous costumes they bring out the essence of beauty. It's natural and it is always heartbreaking. That scene at the bar between the two is just a beauty.

And another Fiennes…Katherine and Almasay are the type of couple that wouldn’t be out of place in a sixties classic and I suppose with Minghella's tendency to seem like Lean they wouldn't. Neither is as traditionally good looking as the cinema would have, but they are lovely especially Kristin whom I adore, and their pairing hear is just great. To think that Kristin almost lost the role...Minghella knew he was doing when he cast her.

I always feel sad that this pair never went on to greater things. It is easily my favourite Shakespearean film and Zeffirelli’s choice of using actual youths (and newcomers) to portray the young couple is brilliant. It only strengthens their case when you notice the good performances that they give.

           

I liked The Curious Case of Benjamin Button more than the average person, it’s been on my mind quite much recently too, as you probably guessed from my nostalgic waxing. Like so many good films, it remains as proof that a long film is never necessarily a boring one. I like essentially everything in it, but Cate always stands out as my favourite part, and a favourite moment of mine depends on her. It occurs just a few moments after her first date with Benjamin where she’s at her most loquacious. But it’s the moment just after that always thrills me. As she lifts herself up onto the gazebo she says, 

 Cate is so in touch with the immaturity of Daisy, I’m amazed that the film is so recent. The impetuous young dancer is really just showing off for Benjamin as she does her moves. 

I love Cate’s reading of that piece in particular; it’s so indolent, as if she’s actually languishing in Lawrence’s words.

The lean in for the kiss that doesn’t come is lovely, and as so much with Benjamin Button it’s always thrilling to notice the effective makeup and special effects, even when they’re not the focus. 

It’s to Cate’s credit that we don’t find Daisy completely juvenile at moments like these. We need to be caught up in the radiance of Daisy, complete with the iconic red dress from designer Jacqueline West – and we are. I love the quiet show of emotion from Brad when she asks him, 

It’s not his greatest performance, but he’s completely effective as Benjamin. 

He too works hard here, though not as officiously. Why doesn’t Benjamin take up Daisy’s invitation? They’re both adults. He manages to make the rebuff, less so, and more of an act of believable maturity from Benjamin. 

As Cate dejectedly picks up her shoes and stalks off I’m always moved to wonder how a scene with no actual physical contact between the leads always seems so sensual.

It’s a weird thing when something seems both subtle and obvious at the same time, but paradoxes are everywhere in the world – especially film. There’s a scene in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button that I’m particularly fond of that could very well act as an illustration of the entire film. As Benjamin narrates piece, through (seemingly trivial) piece of unrelated events we lead up to the fateful accident of Daisy. The message pounded home is not subtle – every action has its consequence. Yet, I never think of this scene as heavy-handed. It’s the same with Benjamin Button. At my most understanding, I’m well aware of what could turn persons off from it – but each time I return to it I’m impressed, enthralled even. It’s just that special for me. I like how Cate and Brad manage to convince us of their youth as much as their age. Makeup can only do so much, and Cate especially is particularly vivacious as the young dancer.

I’d be at a lost to categorise The Curious Case of Benjamin Button to anyone who asked me. It’s not a fantasy, though its logic is something fantastical. It’s dramatic but it’s too humorous to be a drama, focusing too much on an ensemble to be a romance and as expansive as it is, too personal to be considered an epic. I’m still often in wonder that this was what Eric Roth decided to write from Fitzgerald’s not so short story. I’m a tempered fan of Fitzgerald, but for all its irreverence I never become completely sold on his narrative in Benjamin Button until the very end of the piece. I recall the immediate accusation of Roth’s regurgitation of his Forrest Gump plot for this venture, and I’m always at a loss. Surely, there are more films than these two that feature men in love meeting interesting characters along the way. But if Benjamin Button represents reaching the top without actually going over the top, Forrest Gump represents its antithesis. Not that I’m a hater of the 1994 piece, but whereas Forrest Gump reaches its zenith in its moments of delicious schmaltz Benjamin Button is most honest when it gets most simplistic. A simple conversation in a dance studio seems so lovely as Cate and Brad “meet in the middle” or Tilda Swinton’s unremarkable Elizabeth Abbot, becomes more than just the archetypical “older woman”.

But, it’s not that Benjamin Button is without its moment of ridiculous conviviality. Ben’s moment of healing in the church surrounded by the Pentecostal church (and it’s not a stereotype) is wrong on so many levels and yet absolutely hilarious. Taraji P. Henson’s Queenie is a breathing woman under her ostensible stereotypes. It seems easy, but Taraji decides to breathe life into Queenie when we least expect it, and continues to “act” even when it doesn’t seem as necessary. I love her first scene on the landing with her ever faithful Mr. Weathers. Her discovery of Benjamin is the strongest part of her performance and I’m always moved to believe in the honesty of her claiming of this grotesque child. The bit players move through the narrative, each giving their bit to the film, from Jason Flemyng's tortured father to Julia Ormond's sorrowful daughter.

These early moments, though, seem so far removed from the other sections of the film. In its own way, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a bit like many films in one. It’s seems discordant, but it’s still melodic in its own special way. It’s this same ostensible discordance that makes it what it is. As the final narration begins and we see the people in Benjamin’s love we come once again to the unsubtle subtlety, its intentions don't become twdry by its obviousness though. If had included films from 2008 and later in my list of favourites; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button would be somewhere. Its scope is formidable, it’s technical achievements are flawless, the acting is excellent and the story though unusual is still real. Yet, it’s all so personal…and exquisite.I never expected to love it as much, but "You never knows what's coming to you."