Johnny Simmons

I want to wash the memory of Inception from my brain. Not because I hated it (I just didn’t like it) but because it’s made me doubtful about Leonardo DiCaprio. Chances are, if you’re reading this blog you’d know that I have no inhibitions about espousing unpopular opinions. For every five times I’ve said Leo is one of my favourite actors there have been two people telling me that I’m crazy for thinking – which doesn’t bother me. It’s not that I think he’s flawless – I have Daniel Day Lewis for those sentiments – but I’m always seeing something special in almost every performance he does, Cobb and others among the exceptions. But I don’t want to lament on the less than perfect today. It’s November 8th and it’s Leo’s birthday. And because he is one of my favourite actors it’s only right that I give a quick look and some of the brilliant (says me) performances that he’s contributed to cinema. My paranoia in worrying that he’s hit a stump is only natural, I’m still going crazy wondering if Jude Law is ever going to grace us with his brilliant screen presence again, but I digress. That’s information for another post...

               

By my summation Frank is not DiCaprio's  best performance. It is, though, the sole performance of his that I can see no one else playing. He has that weird sort of charisma that makes it possible for him to exude that boyish charm that's necessary for young Frank while being brash enough to be wily as adult Frank. It's a strange thing to watch, and no doubt those scenes with Christopher Walken are highlights. I'm not overly fond of the chemistry with Hanks, but then I'm not overly fond of Hanks period - so that;s not saying much. It's weird, two big films in 2002 and no Oscar love for DiCaprio - but I suppose they were just biding their time.

Interestingly this has turned into an even more polarising performance than his Amsterdam in Gangs of New York. It’s admittedly a role that doesn’t seem to exist in his natural register but it’s proof that he may not be able to play anything but he can play many things. DiCaprio isn't the sort of actor that works well in confinement - like Ralph Fiennes for example. That man can rock a monologue, DiCaprio does excellently when paired up with a scene partner and there's really no doubt that he's at his strongest opposite Blanchett. Perhaps, just a little of my general infatuation obsession appreciation of Katharine Hepburn trickles over and makes me love their arc that much more. But that final confrontation with Blanchett? Just brilliant.

        

DiCaprio is one-third of the reason I can’t stand Tommy Lee Jones or The Fugitive. The other two thirds are Ralph Fiennes in Schindler’s List and Pete Postlewasite in In the Name of the Father. In short, one of these men should have had an Oscar that year. Enough said. Well, not quite. Child actors are irregular, few develop into serviceable performers - fewer can play a layered incarnation of a character as children. His Arnie is not the strongest child-performance I've seen, but the mere fact that he really does convince me that he's disable is something to praise.

If there's one thing DiCaprio proved with The Departed it's that he has the ability to ground a film, even one that has a large ensemble of actors all doing brilliant things. In theory, DiCaprio shouldn't emerge so easily as the lead in the film because it's really not about Billy Costigan - at least not about him only. I'm a big fan of The Departed (proof) and I'd say that the film never hits a false note, but the biggest thrills all seem to surround DiCaprio.

I've established, more than once, that I'm a fan of DiCaprio in Revolutionary Road. I'm still generally confused as to his absence from any significant Awards Race (other than the Golden Globes). Remember, I did cite this as my favourite male performance of the decade and in retrospect I'm surprised more persons didn't cry out about it. I know Revoultionary Road has its adamant dissenters - who I've incidentally not come across here.

                  

 

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)

       

Richie Cusack: “So you like that farm life? Milking cows and shit?”
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.”

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.

     

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?”

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.

        

Terry: “Where are we going?”
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!”

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.

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.

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.

     

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?” 
Brenda: “Yes, it's called accountability and...” 
Erin: “I'm not talking to you, bitch!”
Brenda: “Excuse me?” 
Erin: “Get out of my face!”

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.

    

Helen: We should go shopping together one day, if you want.
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.

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.

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.” 

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.

      

Uncle Ed: “Are you trying to prove something to the family?”
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?”

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.

Osbourne: “And you're my wife's lover?”
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. ”

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.

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.

       

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.

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.”
Hank: “I love you. I want more.”
Gina: “So does Oliver Twist.” 

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.

     

Joel: “I can't see anything that I don't like about you.”
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. ”

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.

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.”

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.

     

Twelve originals and thirteen adaptations make up my twenty favourite screenplays. The ones with asterisks (seven) were, unfortunately, ignored by the Academy.

     

You can’t help but feel self conscious about the movies you like sometimes, and with The Departed I’m not sure if it’s me being self conscious about liking the movie (because most everyone seems to like it) or if as someone who’s quite fond of Scorsese I’m either not as fond of (or not versed in) his older work – which all the “important” people agree is his best stuff. Thus, I always feel a little uncertain when I say that The Departed is my favourite Scorsese film. It’s a weird feeling. I’m simultaneously embarrassed because it seems like a peculiar choice and yet it seems generic. It’s odd because it’s new and everyone says new films can’t be classic, and it feels generic because those unversed in Scorsese often cite The Departed as his greatest because they don’t have patience for his earlier “meandering” (their words) narratives. I mean, I have seen the essentials ones (the boxing one, the gangster one, the Christian one and the New York one) but strangely it’s the Bostonian interpretation of a Chinese adaptation that has my allegiance. But why should I worry? The internet is the place for unfounded allegiances, no?

It’s no wonder I get psyched when people praise it effusively, Heather, of Movie Mobsters; the original gangster of them all (blogging wise and otherwise-wise) approves of it:

And, really, if the mob approves I must be on to something.

I feel as if I’ve already reviewed The Departed…even though all I did was write extensively on DiCaprio’s Costigan. It’s weird, with The Aviator I reviewed it once, twice, and then wrote even more – just for good measure. But with The Departed it’s the opposite, I’m strangely closemouthed about it*. In praising The Departed, Scorsese’s direction skill is as much on focus as Thelma Schoomaker’s excellent editing. The woman is really a credit to her trade and oddly her work is more excellent here even more than in The Aviator where it seems more necessary. The Departed is rooted in its aggressive schizophrenia of sorts and it’s crafted as such. The thing is, even as it goes about claiming that its intent is on the thin line between the good guys and the bad guys (and who the hell are the good guys?) The Departed completes it narratives touching on everything else – and often with even more alacrity than the professed main theme. Yet, I don’t feel as if it’s shirking the issue either. Is Madolyn’s question to Collin “If they don’t do their jobs (i.e. criminals) you don’t have one.” a serious sociological enquiry, or is it just ill placed dinner table banter? And the obvious cycle of violence is too noticeable to be incidental. Maybe I go easy on Scorsese, because I love him so; he does get a little gratuitous sometimes – but then, I end up wondering if I’m missing something. Is there a larger reason as to why Queenan’s death is so bloody? It’s the only time I’m angry at the film (okay fine, that and Costigan’s death – I can’t quit: I know) but I’m acutely aware that his death is necessary. It’s almost like Shakespeare’s penchant for killing the innocent first (Ophelia, Cordelia, Desdemona, Banquo) but Sheen’s so good I’m just annoyed he doesn’t get the chance to do more.

If there’s one thing that’s become a bit of a trademark with Scorsese, regardless of his story, it’s not so much the inherent violent tension in his films but it’s the tendency to leave questions unanswered. It’s the same when I think of my favourite Scorsese pic that doesn’t make it into the actual top 100 – New York / New York. Despite its ostensibly tedious length Marty is always a little reticent in making judgements on his characters. It’s a bit similar with the people we touch on here. Marty is so careful not to make Costigan an unfailing hero – other than DiCaprio’s Amsterdam (and perhaps, him too) he’s always intent on using troubled men as the catalyst for his drama. Billy is not quite as perverse as Travis he has just the touch of nuanced badness – which is one the same level with badassery. He’s just as psychologically conflicted as Newland, Henry and yes even Christ. Call it consistency, or call it unoriginality or blame it on Monahan and make DiCaprio culpable, but it’s a running thread I admire and one that transcends to the supporting characters as well, although with a little less…ummm, subtlety. The intuitive M. Carter from M. Carter at the Movies brings up such salient points in reminding why this is such a good film…

I’m glad I’m not the only one smarting at those two deaths, and kudos to Meredith for bringing up the music which is so often forgotten – and it’s not subtle, so I don’t know why…And, I know – dear God, I know – that The Departed doesn’t exactly thrive on any subtlety in particular, especially when anyone named Baldwin, Wahlberg or Nicholson is on screen but with so many characters to sort out we don’t have time for subtlety even if I still question the relevance of that hazy scene with Costello and the prostitutes… (I find the actual scene almost as funny as Monahan’s screenplay which reads “Costigan fucks…and fucks weird”. Okay then)…. But, still, amidst all its obvious weird obviousness I like how The Departed is dedicated to using every detail it brings up. Like the envelope for “citizins” turning up later, or even the simpler things like the cranberry juice quip – what, are you getting your period? I like how even French is in on the joke. It’s a lucidity (in the face of obvious lunacy) that’s a bit satisfying when you consider that besides Madolyn and Queenan every character is more than a little disturbed. And to be honest, who’s to say they’re not either? There is little that’s particularly hilarious about this gritty film, but Scorsese has such a talent for finding the humour in the strangest places. Sure, it derives from Monahan’s script but Scorsese milks it just right without going overboard. It’s like that scene where Billy shoots the guy in the knee and he starts screaming, “I thought I was supposed to go into shock. I’m not in shock. It fucking hurts. It fucking hurts.” Excise that scene and you could put it in any offbeat violent comedy. The Departed isn’t willing to fall into the boundaries of what it should be, Monahan’s too atypical for that and Scorsese too wise, and thus when I hear it referred to as a crime drama, I’m not too sure that that’s the subgenre it would fall into.

Maybe I do feel the slightest bit of dissonance when I say it’s my favourite Scorsese, but ultimately I’m not really that bothered. Especially when the refreshingly honest Darren from The M0vie Blog has this to say:

Although I’m a little dubious of Darren’s choice of it as a film to gain the title of a couple’s film (really Darren, isn’t that just a little umm, sadist?) his words do make my thoughts a little less "dissonant"... All his films aren’t made equal, but Oscar or no Oscar The Departed is good one from Marty.

                    

We’re getting closer to the top, The Departed is #7. How does it stack up against Scorsese's other works for you? How much do you like it either way?

             

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