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Showing posts with label Gosford Park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gosford Park. Show all posts
Friday, 3 June 2011
I’ve got something of an aversion to physical comedy. Even as a child I couldn’t stand cartoons like Tom and Jerry which made their “humorous” point without the use of dialogue. In Iris Kate Winslet has this quote, “Without words, how can one think?” and although I get the sense that cinema is a visual medium I need words in my life. So, it makes sense that when I think of the comedy I’m most drawn to, it centres on wordplay. Enter Woody Allen...
As much as I love Woody, I can watch each of his films and understand why his humour won’t work on everyone. I love it, nonetheless. It’s probably a bit marginalising of me to call him a comedic writer/director but even in his most serious of films he retains that imprudent humour that makes for a wholly irreverent cinematic experience. It’s alleged that Katharine Hepburn was not a fan of him, but I always like to think of what the two would have been like to have one her zany characters in a Woody piece. Imagine Alice Adams lost in Manhattan or Susan Vance squaring off with Annie Hall. Hilarity would ensue, I tell you.
I’m a staunch Woody supporter, even if he doesn’t appear as the best comedy on my list of favourites. I’m still wary as to whether or not Gosford Park qualifies as a comedy. It encompasses such a wide gamut of cinematic genres that i can’t call it an exclusive drama, mystery, comedy of manners, ensemble piece or anything really. It just is (brilliant). The Graduate and The Apartment are the next two comedies, and I love Nichols but I rarely think of him in comedy terms and as good as Billy Wilder is I’m not an especially big fan of his. There just seems to be something vaguely kitschy about his work, which isn’t necessarily bad it just doesn’t always work for me (even though I think The Apartment is priceless.)Humour is a funny thing, though (funny, weird). I wouldn’t say that it’s more difficult than drama, but it’s much more subjective. Me, I laugh harder when there’s a darker undertone looming. It’s like that episode of Pushing Daisies when the candy store opens opposite and the guy says that candy tastes that much sweeter with a taste of the bitter. That’s comedy for me.
Who are your comedic giants?
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
I'm feeling ridiculously tired at the moment, and really the possibilites are endless (I sense a series of post imminent on this topic). Nonetheless, the ones that came to mind first...
Beautiful Profundity
The English Patient: “Betrayals during war are childlike compared to betrayals during peace. New lovers are warm and tender, but smash everything…for the heart is an organ of fire.”
The Lion in Winter: “Of course he has a knife, he always has a knife, we all have knives! It's 1183 and we're barbarians! How clear we make it. Oh, my piglets, we are the origins of war: not history's forces, nor the times, nor justice, nor the lack of it, nor causes, nor religions, nor ideas, nor kinds of government, nor any other thing. We are the killers. We breed wars. We carry it like syphilis inside. Dead bodies rot in field and stream because the living ones are rotten. For the love of God, can't we love one another just a little - that's how peace begins. We have so much to love each other for. We have such possibilities, my children. We could change the world.”
Brilliant One-Liners
The Philadelphia Story: “This is the Voice of Doom calling. Your days are numbered, to the seventh son of the seventh son.”
The Big Chill: “I don't know anyone who could get through the day without two or three juicy rationalizations. They're more important than sex.”
Gosford Park: “I'm the perfect servant; I have no life.”
Useable in Everyday Life
There’s a scene in The English Patient when Ralph Fiennes’ patient turns to Juliette Binoche’s Nurse – Hana. “Did you know Herodotus is the father of all history.” She responds glibly, “I don’t know anything.” The line itself is nothing of brilliance, but Binoche’s line reading has stuck with me since…I use it quite often with the same inflection. It's true.
All for the MEME.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
I got the inspiration for this post months ago from here. I promised to followup since then, and then the meme made me remember how much I cry at movies. I can’t remember the last time I cried in real life (I’m an emotional cripple), but I’m happy to share pain vicariously with fictional characters. It would be too much to trudge through all the films I’ve seen, I’ll stick to the last decade. Today, bottom fifteen in alphabetical order. Next time, the top ten.
Each entry has the potential to be a spoiler-ish entry, if you haven’t seen it don’t read.
Atonement: Tete a tete, En Francais (Guilty Party: Romola Garai)
Avatar: Graces Dies (Guilty Party: James Cameron and Sigourney Weaver)
Call it what you will, but cold would be a dubious accusation to mete out to Avatar. The death of Grace is the most poignant. Maybe it’s because it’s Sigourney, the film’s strongest “actor”…maybe it’s just the realisation of the scope of the destruction that has occurred. Either way, her death is the film’s most moving moment (more than the burning of the tree) and a definite tearjerker.
Away From Her: “Forsaken” (Guilty Party: Julie Christie)
I’m still not certain on how I feel about Away From Her. It seems so manipulative at times, and then starkly honest at others. Either way, I like Julie Christie in it. The moment in the film that always causes me to tear up is the ending. What will happen with Fiona and Grant? Has she really regained lucidity? Alzheimer’s is just a thoroughly depressing disease throughout and Christie just makes it all the more sad.
Babel: Confession (Guilty Party:Boubker Ait El Caid)
Babel had a number of poignant moments, but the most moving came from the arc’s that’s usually most forgotten. The plot point of the two brother’s inadvertent foray into crime fails to hit home at times, but the climax makes it worth it. Boubker Ait El Caid’s confession is brilliant (for a child actor and for an adult) and yes, the words are overly precise. But it doesn’t matter. It’s too distressing for me to care.
Big Fish: The Funeral (Guilty Party: Tim Burton)
Burton gets called out for being too irreverent. Pity those detractors didn’t see Big Fish, one of the decade’s strongest films. The moment where Billy Crudup lifts his father into the water surrounded by all the “characters” we’ve met is the film’s most brilliant scene and it’s oh, so moving. It’s a tribute to parents and it goes to show that Tim Burton really can do anything, perhaps not as prolific as some, but in his own way – still excellent.
Bright Star: Crying (Guilty Party: Abbie Cornish)
It’s Abbie’s strongest moment, which is odd considering that her Fanny is built on keeping her emotions in check. We know John will die, she knows John will die and yet… It’s one of those rare bouts of crying on screen that’s realistic. Even as she says lines like “I can’t breathe” there’s no doubt that she really can’t breathe. It’s the sort of blunt sadness Jane Campion isn’t averse to showing and Abbie rises to the occasion, brilliantly. More of this.
Cold Mountain: Death (Guilty Party: Nicole Kidman)
Although I’d hardly attribute Nicole’s talents to solely being a good reactor, her brilliance in Cold Mountain (yes, brilliance) comprises her stellar ability to the more overt acting of her cast members and make her Ada Munroe work. She has already reacted to a death earlier in the film (her father), but of course it’s Inman’s death that’s the emotional juggernaut. I do think Jude Law is rather good here, but this moment is all Nicole.
Finding Neverland: The Performance (Guilty Party: Kate Winslet)
I have a soft spot for Finding Neverland and though it gets too saccharine at times I’m willing to cut it some slack, particularly in the final moments of Kate’s performance. “Peter Pan” has always been a distressing tale in its own right, and juxtaposed with the eventual death of Sylvia it only becomes more so.
Gosford Park: “Don’t cry, they’ll hear.” (Guilty Parties: Helen Mirren and Eileen Atkins)
I think, at the end of the day Gosford Park is a comedy, but that doesn’t stop Helen from eliciting a few tears. We don’t expect to get so caught up in the revelations of paternity and such, and Helen “perfect servant” Mirren’s confession doesn’t seem that emotional. Of course, she’s putting on a mask. Her stilted entry into the room, and then Eileen’s quiet line reading is just so painful (yet brilliant) to watch.
I’ve Loved You So Long: Confession (Guilty Party: Kristin Scott Thomas)
I’ve Loved You So Long is, in its way, as emotionally manipulative as many. Kristin makes me forget about that. It’s all leading up to inevitable revelation and though it’s just a trifle odd it doesn’t make it any less sad. 2008 was not as poor a film year as many think, a number of gems were just unjustly ignored.
Little Miss Sunshine: A Hug (Guilty Party: Paul Dano)
A Mighty Heart: Crying (Guilty Party: Angelina Jolie)
Hopefully this will go down as one of the forgotten gems of the last decade. Like Abbie’s moment this is important for the crying, though it’s more a scream than a cry. From the moment Marianne learns of her husband’s death we anticipate waterworks, but the way the waterworks come is so unexpected, almost as if we’re watching something we shouldn’t be privy to. Angelina is so bloody brilliant here.
Mona Lisa Smile: Bicycles (Guilty Party: Kristin Dunst)
Mystic River: Parade (Guilty Parade: Marcia Gay Harden)
I will forever tout Mystic River as Clint Eastwood’s (lone) masterpiece. Evocative, provocative and poignant. The thing is, I’m never inclined to get teary eyed through out the machination of the main three (even Sean’s bloodcurdling scream or Tim’s moving “confession”). It's as if I’m seeing it, but not feeling it…until the end. When Marcia walks frantically through the street at that dismal parade it’s as if all the drama finally reaches it’s peak and we realise how morose the lives of these people are. And Marcia does it all without uttering a single word. brilliant? I think so too.
You Can Count On Me: Ending (Guilty Parties: Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo)
I mentioned my allegiance to this sibling pairing a few days ago. It’s the only ending that would have worked for You Can Count On Me, but it doesn’t make Terry’s departure any less sad. What’s the lesson we learned? Sometimes it’s easier to love from afar? I don’t know. Who does? The departure is real though, it works and Laura and Mark delivering brilliant performances is a significant part of that.
Have you shed a tear for any of these scenes?
(Care to wager which ten films make my top ten? Hints: a quasi stranger in a kitchen, a sexless goodbye in a bedroom, running through the streets, end credits, return of a “ghost”, death of a warrior, voiceover, revelation of truths, montage of characters, a lover’s promise, death of a star. Those are the clues…)
Thursday, 19 August 2010
This was such an odd question for me. Obviously best cast is not synonymous with best film, but the overlap is hard to avoid even when I think that it doesn’t always end up being there. Only a few days ago I waxed on (with the help of others) about the all around brilliance of The Philadelphia Story and really that comes to mind as the strongest cast I can think of. True, other than the four principals (Hepburn, Grant, Stewart, Hussey) the cast is filled with less-popular folks but what makes The Philadelphia Story cast so brilliant is the fact that big names aren’t necessary to make it so. Any scene in the film sizzles, regardless of if the big names take centre stage.
Another film I mentioned in my top ten, Gosford Park would be a worthy candidate for best ensemble. From Helene Mirren to Michael Gambon to Maggie Smith to Clive Owen to Kristin Scott Thomas to Emily Watson and on and on and on, it’s just too brilliant for words. Is it not obvious why I’m always fawning over Altman’s masterpiece? It’s the way of the Britons, though, consider Howards End another film peppered with the English that’s just fantastic when they all come together.
Still, the small casts don’t get enough credit – look at Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf – only four greats in Taylor, Dennis, Burton and Segal – and they do all the heavy lifting brilliantly. A Streetcar Named Desire has more than four but it all comes down to Stanley, Brando, Leigh and Malden and they work brilliantly together. I don’t love the play or the film for Long Day’s Journey Into Night – but I dare anyone to not be floored by the collective brilliance of Katharine Hepburn, Dean Stockwell, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards in Lumet’s oft forgotten film.
The eclectic casting in All About Eve is worthy of remembrance too. Every one, not just Bette, turns in brilliant performances even if it’s all about the women at the end of the day…a bit like Woody Allen’s Bullets Over Broadway, the men are smashing but it’s the women who take the cake at the end of the day.
I often think of Shakespeare as being the perfect playwright for ensembles and it makes sense that it’s a Shakespeare piece that I first though of. I wouldn’t call it the best ensemble – anyone I’ve mentioned thus far could take the cake, but I can’t be the only one who thinks that the ensemble of Shakespeare in Love is something to applaud heartily. Its best picture victory remains as one of the Academy’s most lucid decisions in the nineties and there’s no doubt that the ensemble is one to treasure.
Film is good, but there’s something particularly great about seeing a group of actors – big or small – work cohesively. There are dozens more I can think of, but these nine take precedence...and this is all for the MEME.
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
“Murder in the middle of the night, a lot of guests for the weekend, everyone's a suspect.”
0 comments Posted by 2011 at 01:07Although it’s not my favourite film, I often think of Gosford Park as the sleekest films I know. I know it sounds perverse but was it a person; I think I’d be moved to seduce it. It’s even stranger when I consider the fact that there’s little that’s erotic about it. I cited it as my favourite ensemble of the last decade, and I’d probably call it the best ensemble if I included the nineties and eighties, too. Gosford Park is a film concerning class boundaries. A group of aristocrats, along with a film producer and actor, make their way to the eponymous Gosford Park (though it’s never referred to by name) for hunting, and other activities of the elite, for a few days. With all these genteel folks come their servants. In the midst of the second night, a murder occurs – the host. But this is not a Clue inspired piece; neither it is an Agatha Christie thriller. Certainly, a significant amount of beauty derives from a moving confession concerning the murderer, but Gosford Park is less concerned with who and more about how and why…and not just the how and why of the murder, but the lives of our characters – all of them. In this way, Gosford Park sets itself up for something almost akin to failure. The cast is expansive and Altman has to manoeuvre upstairs, downstairs, and back again and all this must be done whilst keeping the narrative taut, but maintaining sedateness that’s necessary. I feel it succeeds on all counts – it’s curious how Gosford Park doesn’t only improve on subsequent viewings but still manages to thrill just as much as the first time.
Alex (who adeptly juggles two blogs of note: Alex in Movieland and My Last Oscar Film) weighs in it and his words sum it up so perfectly:
“It is by far my favourite Robert Altman! Even that says enough; and what could be more interesting than seeing the flawless product of a director at the height of his career? Nobody else could have directed this: the casting is great and the acting beyond words, probably Helen Mirren’s best performance (E/N: true dat). Gosford Park gathers comedy and mystery and drama and romance and wraps it all up in that touch of arrogance and glamour that just makes me wanna ask for more.”
I’m glad Alex touched on the genre shifting that’s occurring. I really can’t say how impressive it is that Gosford Park manages to touch on all that while still maintaining that austere brilliance. There’s a fluidity to Gosford Park even in its demarcated plotlines. I never think of it in pieces, but as one continuous narrative. The entire thing just flies by…It’s interesting though; I think of Kristin Scott Thomas first when I think of the actual film, for many reasons. She’s not my preferred performer in it (*that is she*), but she’s second. Sometimes I’m even more thrilled by her Sylvia McCordle than her Katherine Clifton, and considering how much I’m smitten with the latter – that’s no mean feat. There’s a marvellous dinner moment that always pleases me, I end up rewinding each time. Truthfully, it depends just as much on Emily Watson (her career best in my opinion) and Michael Gambon (deliciously wicked, here).
SYLVIA McCORDLE: Well, I know you're interested in money and fiddling with your guns. But I admit it: when it comes to anything else, I'm stumped.
The moment has more value than Elsie’s out-of-turn response. Kristin puts so much emotion into that single line reading and she’s such a steely hostess we rarely get to see her true feelings. Sure, she’s a bit of bitch but she’s an affable bitch despite the ostensibly cold exterior. She’s a strange woman, really. Her scintillating chemistry with Philippe is replaced with a frosty shoulder the next morning. Then there’s a moment that confuses me, I’m not sure if it’s Sylvia or Kristin caught unawares. When Henry Denton has the hot coffee spilt in his lap she releases an almost inauspicious titter that I never see coming no matter how I often I watch the film. It’s another reason why Gosford Park works so well, everything is just so realistic. And on that note of realism consider Yojimbo (of the sage Let’s Not Talk About Movies) and his thoughts…
“Robert Altman’s films are never tidy. They seem to happen “in media res,” as if he just turned on the camera and was filming events as they happened, and they were going to happen, camera or no, with no regard to film-making “rules.” People cluster in odd groups, talking over each other, the camera sometimes seeing nothing while over-hearing in its journey, sometimes separated from the crux of a scene by glass, by terrain, and by happenstance. It’s Robert Altman’s party, and we’re the wall-flowers, impotent, capable of doing nothing but observing and reacting. We are almost-innocent by-standers, detached, but complicit.So, when Altman does a British family drawing room murder (and why anyone would be surprised that Altman would do such a film is itself a mystery, as he was eager to subvert all genres), it cannot end in a burst of connected dots and logic. It involves family, after all, and all families have secrets, as all houses have closets. And the foundation is shaky enough (the crises here being financial) that when one closet door closes, another opens. Families aren’t tidy, either, even after the blood stains get cleaned, the culprit is safely carted off in the Black Maria, and Altman turns off his camera. Murders, like families, are messy things, mysteries within puzzles within conundrums. As such, they are Altman’s natural turf.”
You could probably take his words and let me just shut up (but I’ve never been one to have a word filter…). It’s those intricacies that define Gosford Park. Blink and you’ll miss them, but pay attention and you’re in for an embarrassment of rewards. Gosford Park manages to seem ridiculously sagacious and yet still relatable. No we don’t live England where the class system is dying but we are people and take them from their setting and everyone at Gosford Park is a real person capable of all the human emotions we can imagine (from the grossest vices to the oddest bouts kindness). It’s the things like the fact that Sylvia can seem so austere but the slightest chink in her armour is obvious when her husband (inadvertently?) chooses her sister over her. Or the weirdest way in which Mabel is almost sickeningly enamoured with the movie guest – Jeffrey Northam who has the unenviable task of being both participant and voyeur in the film. Then there are the quotable lines which every actor milks (but not too much) but none more than Maggie Smith who’s line readings (I haven’t a snobbish bone in my body) – she manages to make any line turn into a scintillating example in caustic brilliance.
I’m never sure if Altman and Fellowes want us to feel that those downstairs are nobler than those upstairs, because they’re all quite wicked. Kelly MacDonald gets to play our ingénue and as a servant we get more insight into the workings of their minds. Emily Watson’s Elsie is in the same register as Scott Thomas’ cold Sylvia – of course the only thing that divides them is that one’s a maid and one’s a lady. It seems more than accident that our not-so-benevolent host is sleeping with them both (he is sleeping with his wife…right?) Then, all the hilarious if innocuous plot points are threatened when the emotional core takes precedent – that’s another part of Gosford Park that you’re unprepared for. Helen Mirren is just too excellent for words that I never can get over the highway robbery concerning her and that little golden man. Altman almost stifles us with one beautiful exposition after another, further enhancing the fluidity of the narrative. It’s more than that, though. Helen moves from the brilliance aloofness in her scene against McDonald to being compellingly moving without a word as she cries in the bedroom with Eileen Atkins. And speaking of Eileen Atkins… It’s weird how so few lines seem so weighty when a talented performer gets them – “Don’t cry, they’ll hear you.” It’s chilling.
The thing is, at the end of the day it wouldn’t be wrong to single out its style as Gosford Park’s saving grace. Strip it bare and what we have is the tale of the poor struggling in the world of rich (and the rich unhappy even though they’ve got it “all”) – it’s a world where the poor either strive for idealistic escape or succumb to their lives. It’s not that Altman and Fellowes cover up this simple ideology with fluff – nothing in the film could be termed as such. What they seem to realise is that life is made up of more than the black-and-white and the beauty in Gosford Park is watching these shades of the gray as the minutes go by, the beauty in reading a script that’s too perfect for words, the excellence in watching Altman submit his magnum opus and it’s the brilliance in seeing every single actor in the cast turn in an excellent performance (the most deserved SAG win I can remember). Here it appears at #5 on my list of favourites.
What (or who) would you single out as Gosford Park’s saving grace?
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
Screenplays are different from the actual films they precipitate. Quite often the screenplay ends up being my favourite of a film. It all begins with the screenplay really – here are the ones that I remember most clearly from the last decade.
Runners Up: (Alpha): Big Fish* – adapted (2003); Bright Star* – original (2009); Brokeback Mountain – adapted (2005); The Constant Gardener – adapted (2005); Corpse Bride* – original (2005); The Fantastic Mr. Fox – adapted (2009); In the Loop – adapted (2009); Little Miss Sunshine – original (2006); Mean Girls* – adapted (2004); (2009); The Others* – original (2001)
#15: A History of Violence (2005), adaptation by Josh Olson
Richie Cusack: “So you like that farm life? Milking cows and shit?”Visceral is not a word I find myself using often, but it’s the one that comes to mind immediately when I think of A History of Violence. It approaches an issue – a character with two sensibilities – in a manner that’s unorthodox and also quite sanguine. Its aim is not to shock, at least not unwarrantedly. In approaching the concept with such smoothness Tom Stall becomes a symbol for any man.
Tom Stall: “I don't have a farm.”
Richie Cusack: [chuckling] “No? Fogarty thought you lived on some kind of farm. Said you could smell pig. How that old fart would know what a pig smells like, I don't know, but that's what he said.”
#14: Chicago (2002), adaptation by Bill Condon
Marshall is not credited, though a significant amount of the idea emanates from him. Still, Condon does excellent here. He doesn’t get overwhelmed by Ebb and Kander’s standards and forget to make sure they’re resting on a dependable set of words. He raises the standard ensuring that the every scene exists as it should and the spoken scenes succeed as much as the musical ones.Billy: “When she returns, she gently wakes up Harry. Harry says, "What? I'm alone." She says, "Alone? You got two other women in bed with you ." So, get this. Harry says, Come on , doll . You gonna believe what you see or what I tell you?”
#13: You Can Count on Me (2000), originated by Kenneth Lonergan
Terry: “Where are we going?”A bitingly realistic and poignant look at filial love, it’s easy to forget and just see the excellent work being done by Ruffalo and Linney. Longergan crafts his screenplay with a surprising lack of pretentiousness, and even when we might hope for something a little more “movie-like” she’s careful to ensure that her characters are acting in keeping with the world he’s created for them.
Sammy: “To pick up Rudy.”
Terry: “What, do you not even want me to come visit now?”
Sammy: “Of course I want you to visit, you idiot! I've been looking forward to seeing you from the moment I got your letter, I told everyone in town that you were coming home, I cleaned the whole fucking house just so it would look nice for you! I had no idea you were just broke again! I wish you'd just send me an invoice!”
#12: Babel (2006), originated by Guillermo Arriaga
Yussef: “I killed the American, I was the only one who shot at you. They did nothing... nothing. Kill me, but save my brother, he did nothing... nothing. Save my brother... he did nothing. ”It’s simple to ignore because of Crash, which it’s mistakenly seen as a derivative of. It does tend to get a little bit too heavy-handed when delving into its symbolism but I forgive a few of its occasional missteps because in the greater realm of things I do treasure its ultimate result. The balancing between the three narratives is handled gracefully; and the message though obvious is not less profound for it.
#11: Traffic (2000), adapted by Stephen Gaghan
Caroline: “On the good days, I feel like I get it, like it all makes sense. I can stay in the moment, I don't have to control everything in the future, and I believe everything is gonna work out fine. On the bad days I just want to grab the phone and start dialing numbers. I want to pull my hair and run through the streets screaming. But thanks to the people I've met in these rooms, like Margaret and Jim and Sarah, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna make it through today.”Another massive ensemble drama, Traffic depends significantly on its screenplay. It's riveting and it flies by, but it's also incredibly smart. Gaghan has an ear for dialogue, especially topical dialogue, and the script serves as an excellent appraisal of current affairs.
#10: Erin Brockovich (2000), originated by Susannah Grant
Erin: “I've been working, that is all I have been doing, what am I supposed to do check in with you every two seconds?”This is another one that’s often overlooked. Grant takes a concept that’s almost pedestrian – the hardworking heroine against the world – and creates a screenplay that’s uncluttered and not at all condescending. We forget at times that at the end of the day this film is ultimately a legal drama, because Grant is willing to touch on more than just a single issue in her script.
Brenda: “Yes, it's called accountability and...”
Erin: “I'm not talking to you, bitch!”
Brenda: “Excuse me?”
Erin: “Get out of my face!”
#9: An Education (2009), adaptation by Nick Hornby
Helen: We should go shopping together one day, if you want.Hornby has the admirable ability to push a host of ideas into a particularly short screenplay. Moreover, though it ostensibly focuses on something as singular as a girl’s “coming-of-age” each character, regardless of their relative importance, speaks words that are completely their own.
Jenny: That would be nice. But South Ken, C'est beaucoup trop cher pour moi.
[Pause]
Helen: Sorry?
Jenny: I just said...It was too expensive for me.
Helen: No you didn't. You said something completely different.
#8: Match Point (2005), originated by Woody Allen
On the surface it’s just Woody Allen’s perverse take on a classic tale, but underneath it’s a thoroughly original and almost subversive take on people in the world. It stings as much as it amuses and when you think it’s a trifle there’s always something deeper lurking below – if you’re willing to look closer.Chris: “The man who said "I'd rather be lucky than good" saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose.”
#7: The Departed (2006), adaptation by William Monahan
Uncle Ed: “Are you trying to prove something to the family?”Monahan’s adaptation of the Asian drama is a beast of its own. Complete with little character idiosyncrasies that are all his Monahan’s piece is completely original – adaptation or not. The world he creates is probably fabricated but everything that occurs is rendered believable simply because of the sameness throughout the narrative.
Billy Costigan: “When you say "the family," who do mean exactly? You?”
Uncle Ed: “You always have to question everything, don't you?”
Billy Costigan: “Maybe it would have done you some good to have some *questions* from time to time, you know? Am I an asshole? Are my kids a mess? Is my wife a money-grubbing whore? I mean, those are questions, right? Have I ever been good to my dying sister or am I just now pretending to be?”
#6: Burn After Reading* (2008), originated by Ethan and Joel Coen
Osbourne: “And you're my wife's lover?”This remains as one of the most inventive comedies of the decade, and the script is one of the decade’s best. The entire thing is permeated with a glorious amount of irreverence that doesn’t stop the harsh truths in the screenplay from being seen. It’s the very fact that it doesn’t take itself too seriously though, not caring to sentimentalise any of its characters.
Ted: [shaking his head] “No.”
Osbourne: “Then what are you doing here? [pause] I know you. You're the guy from the gym.”
Ted: “I'm not here representing HardBodies.”
Osbourne: “Oh, yes. I know very well what you represent. [pause] You represent the idiocy of today. ”
#5: Atonement (2007), adaptation by Christopher Hampton
Robbie: “Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”Not as piercing as his work on Dangerous Liaisons, but done with the same amount of astonishing brevity. Like any such adaptation the script is littered with bits of symbolism here and there, and it must have been a task creating a screenplay from McEwan’s impressive novel. He doesn’t quake at the challenge, though, and the story works well on its own.
#4: The Hours (2003), adaptation by David Hare
Laura: “It would be wonderful to say you regretted it. It would be easy. But what does it mean? What does it mean to regret when you have no choice? It's what you can bear. There it is. No one's going to forgive me. It was death. I chose life.”
I’ve not read Cunningham’s novel, though I’ve read extensive biographies on Woolf and Mrs. Dalloway. The screenplay exists seamlessly; there are three women but it is one story. Oddly, it never becomes too “talky”, the dialogue is never obtrusive. Instead everything flows together in beautiful subtlety.
#3: Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead* (2007), originated by Kelly Masterson
Gina: “When are you going to grow up, Hank? We have a really good thing going, and you should just enjoy it. We have a really good time in bed. I don't ask for anything.”Masterson’s script is discordant, but that's the beauty of it. Such a tale could easily have become a message film, instea she turns it into a nuanced character study giving every character their pivotal moment – and ensuring that plot points that occur are readdressed. She refuses to conform to the norm creating a world that is completely hers.
Hank: “I love you. I want more.”
Gina: “So does Oliver Twist.”
#2: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), originated Charlie Kauffman with Michael Gondry
Joel: “I can't see anything that I don't like about you.”It’s an obvious choice, but deservedly so. It is a work that’s strikingly original even though the issues are ones we know all too well. Ostensibly it seems to be science fiction, but that solitary plot point is just that, and the issues addressed are done so with some of the most perceptive and smart comedic writing.
Clementine: “But you will! But you will. You know, you will think of things. And I'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me.”
Joel: “Okay.”
Clementine: [pauses] “Okay. ”
#1: Gosford Park (2001), originated by Julian Fellowes with Robert Altman
So subtle and yet so intense, addressing serious issues and yet so hilarious it’s a choice that comes easily – almost too easily. The ensemble drama gives the writer much ground to cover, and Fellowes does it with aplomb. He travels upstairs, downstairs and back again – but never tries too hard. Character development is vivid, but sometimes subtle we need to look (and listen) carefully…and just when you think you can put it in a box, he’s waiting to add something to new. Perfect.Sylvia: “Where's that wretched Mabel.”
Aunt Constance: “Has anyone checked her outfit? She's probably in black velvet with a feather in her hair.”
Lavinia: “She's in the morning room looking perfectly normal. Don't be such a snob aunt Constance.”
Aunt Constance: “Me? I haven't a snobish bone in my body.”
Twelve originals and thirteen adaptations make up my twenty favourite screenplays. The ones with asterisks (seven) were, unfortunately, ignored by the Academy.
Which screenplay from the last decade would you want to take credit for?
Monday, 24 May 2010
Do you know that I adore Kristin Scott Thomas? Why this woman does not get higher profile work is beyond, she's scintillating. Unfortunately I do not get the chance to see her art house French flicks, but here are some memories of the lovely Kristin...
Annie in The Horse Whisperer (1998)
"I haven't ridden Western before."
Fiona in Four Weddings & Funeral (1994)
"I was a lesbian once at school, but only for about fifteen minutes"
Juliette Fontaine in I've Loved You So Long (2008)
"The worst prison is the death of one's child. You never get out of it."
Sylvia McCordle in Gosford Park (2001)
"Well, I know you're interested in money and fiddling with your guns. But I admit it: when it comes to anything else, I'm stumped."
Katharine Clifton in The English Patient (1996)
"Am I K in your book? I think I must be."
Is Kristin K in your book or do you prefer her as another? Does your British loveliness make you swoon or no?
REMEMBER, automated posting...I'll be back to respond on Friday.
Monday, 19 April 2010
I think I can say I've done my duty in recapping the decade. I've done a number of entries dedicated to the decade in review. I'm sure there's some miscellaneous category, but if it comes to me I'll let you know. I think it's time for me to stop looking back before I turn into a pillar of salt, and I suppose that the logical conclusion is to sum it up with the best films of the decade. But, you know me - always atypical, so I'm not recapping film quality, but acting quality. What were the films this past decade with the best ensembles? It's a question that always triggers me thoughts (I did the same for the nineties). So with no explanations I list the 30 best film ensembles of the decade -with a few runners up. Let me remind you, this is not a list of the best films. It's a list of the ensembles that I think were best - the most collectively good performances, the best chemistry among actors, the most talented....
Runners Up (alpha): The Constant Gardener, Closer, Dreamgirls, Erin Brockovich, In the Bedroom, In the Loop, King Kong, The Messenger, The Reader, Sweeney Todd
Tier Five
Tier Four
Tier Three
Tier Two
Tier One
The Greatest Ensemble of the Decade
I'd expect that fans of certains films are foaming at the mouth, so do your worst and tell me where I went wrong. What's missing from the list, what should be missing...what are your thoughts on the top choice?
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