Johnny Simmons

Woody Allen is a bit of anomaly himself. His work is always tinged with what seems like wild abandon while still retaining that obvious smidgen of self conscious that makes you aware that he’s very aware that you’re aware of all the little tics he’s giving his characters (in terms of dialogue). His attempts at being self-effacing work as much as they don’t and it’s probably why he’s most “suited” for comedy (though I’ve still to see a number of his important dramas). Match Point is every bit like that, and the fact that it’s protagonist and de facto female lead are consciously and deliberately using their words to trap us only make the film seem a little smug, but I like smug. Early on Chris asks Nola Rice, “What did I walk into?” After a sudden turn of events she replies almost immediately, “What did I into?” By this time, the audience is probably wondering the same thing and it’s too Woody’s credit (but not his alone) that we leave the film still uncertain of what we’ve just taken part in.
Match Point is not a rags-to-riches tale, though such a description could suffice for a time. Chris is a personable and ambitious young man who temps as a tennis trainer; he meets an affable rich girl and strikes up a romance and steadily climbs in her father’s company as he overcomes the troubles in their marriage. The end? Yes, but not the whole story. Nola Rice is a struggling actress and the girlfriend of Chris’ brother-in-law. She’s temperamental and American and nothing suitable for this British upper-class family. Like Chris she’s an outsider, unlike Chris she’s not that good of an actor. Unsurprisingly, they’re drawn to each other and their relationship turns Match Point into many things – a melodrama (perhaps), a fantasy (likely), a tragedy (to a point), a thriller (always), a whodunit drama (maybe, maybe not). But Match Point isn’t interested in being part of a genre. It is similarly like and unlike anything we’d usually see in the cinemas. It was moderately successful upon its release and months later its brilliance had waned (according to the public at least). It went from a potential Oscar dark horse, to a nominee for its screenplay – nothing more. Yet I’d list Match Point easily among the decade’s best. Woody’s writing is a staple; I sincerely believe there’s nothing that he cannot do. His writing is so good we tend to forget how adept he is at bringing out the best in his actors (see Wiest, Farrow, Tilly, Keaton), and if the house of Match Point is built on Woody’s words then the acting is everything else.
I have been a fan of Scarlett Johansson for a long time, before it was the cool thing and after it was the cool thing. I still consider her to be one of the best actresses in her age bracket. Her problem, like so many is realising her strengths. She is more resourceful than we realise (just look at the three performances Woody has led her to) but Nola Rice is the perfect creation for her. It’s the sort of woman we don’t know when to trust (if at all) and Johansson’s natural cadence works well even in moments where Woody almost falters (e.g. that coffee shop confession piece plays like a gem despite it’s script issues). What do I know? Maybe she is playing herself? But what the hell do I care when she’s playing it so excellently? She doesn’t have the shouting voice so Woody’s words let her get all those soft line readings in just beautifully. I wonder if erred on Wednesday in leaving her pairing with Jonathan Rhys Myers off the list of beautiful screen couples. When Woody has Chris say “Has anyone told you you have very sensual lips?” I can’t help rolling my eyes. Just look at them, for god’s sake. Ugh, they’re gorgeousness makes me sick.
Looking in from the outside Match Point’s payoff shouldn’t work, but I’d be the first to tell you that it does – excellently. Jonathan Rhys Myers is talented (even though I forget sometimes) he’s doing excellent work on The Tudors and with the exception of maybe Woody himself (and perhaps John Cusack) he’s my favourite Woody leading man. It’s not a popular choice, but each of Rhys Myers strange acting idiosyncrasies (his penetrating stare is a bit scary at times) works perfectly for Chris. The supporting cast don’t stand out as much as most Woody films, but Brian Cox and Emily Mortimer particularly are delights to watch, well as delightful as one can be in such a dryly humorous tale. Anyone who says Woody's heyday finished in the nineties is clearly not paying attention.

         

             

After the last streak of memes I figured that we’d all been “memed” out. Obviously, not.

I’ve been lucky enough (all things being relative) to be singled out by two bloggers for my versatility. In all my 18 months of blogging I’ve never used the word. I’m not quite sure what they mean when they tell I’m versatile, but I’ll surmise it has something to do with my mind hopping to and fro without order. Apparently they do give out an award for general craziness and hysteria. Joy.

                   

Anna is a young up-and-coming blogger with a thirst for knowledge. She also happens to be one of the most prolific tweeters (twitterer?) I know and Darren of the M0vie Blog doesn’t grade his reviews, which means you’re forced to read his reviews. Luckily, they’re quite lucid and well written so it’s a win-win situation. Both of them are worth having on your blog roll.

                 

I’m obliged to nominate fifteen blogs, I can’t say if they all will reciprocate with the meme rules, but here goes. I can't count pass ten…hopefully they haven’t been struck with the disease er, tagged yet. They all are versatile.

           

Luke of Journalistic Skepticism: because he covers everything from the big screen to the small screen to list making, and more list making and Meryl loving and…well, you get it.

Jude of And All that Film: he’s young but he’s enthused about the whole blogging thing (bless him) notes on theatre, notes on film and notes on TV

            

Ryan T. of Sorta that Guy: he loves Federer to a fault and all things Josh Whedon (especially a certain wicca named Willow)

Crazy Cris of Here and There and Everywhere: a bit obsessed with the tube, and football and European things especially Spanish (particularly Nadal)

Rachel of Rachel’s Reel Reviews: recently began a podcast with Jess and is always skipping back and forth between film and TV with a very cool rating system.

              

Jess of Insight into Entertainment: A West Wing aficionado and a Friends lover that I'm now getting to know

       

Yojimbo of Let’s Not Talk About Movies: smart but personable, well written but simple to understand. If that’s not versatility…

                

Walter of The Silver Screening Room: a big fan of Drew Barymore, ALW and Glenn Close (but I don’t know in what order). Goes to film school and will blog about anything…or else…

            

Tom S. of Reinvention, the Journal of a Dog Lover...: Thoughtful essays on film and on platitudes of life (that end up seeming inventive). 

              

And now on to some random intimation that makes me lose a little bit of my privacy, in keeping with the theme it shall all be very versatile.

                 

1: I consider William Wordsworth to be the greatest poet of all time. I suppose today his “traditional” romanticism does not seem as innovative as some of the more contemporary rule-breakers, but I have special place in my heart for him. He can be light (and lithe) and carefree and then move to moving and poignant in one line.

    

2: On the note of artists, I’d probably say Stephen Sondheim is the greatest musician (at least of the last century). I’m never sure if I prefer his words or his music but they’re all so excellent together or alone. He’s worked with so many of the greats and has become a great himself – deservedly so.

          

3: One of my nicknames in high school was “The Human Dictionary”. I probably don’t need to deign to explain, Univarn recently told me I’m notorious for my big words which are never deliberate. I know they say people who use big words have some complex, but I just like the variety of the English Language.

            

4: I generally alternate between moments of excessive obsessive compulsion and moments of not caring at all. One thing I’m particularly neurotic about is school, which I hate but I still obsess over it. I’m an anomaly of a student, I don’t study regularly, I skip classes but I still end up doing quite well. I’m sensing my bad deeds will catch up with me sometime.

                

5: I’m infamous for hating (my) birthdays. I can’t remember when it started, but I was ill-fated enough to watch The Hours on one of them and ever since then Laura Brown just haunts my days (…and what’s to celebrate about the aging process, anyway?).

                   

6: I may have said this before, but post-Shakespeare I’d say Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams are possibly my favourite playwrights of all time. I know Eugene O’Neill is often identified with them, but I generally loathe the man. I just find him to be a chore (“Strange Interlude? Ick.)

              

7: I said this on Heather’s blog recently; I’ve never seen a movie with my father. It’s weird, and embarrassing. We don’t live together, but we’re not estranged. I shall be rectifying that in due time. Incidentally, I’m always forcing my mother and sisters (and my nephew) to watch movies. My mother loved Places in the Heart, one of my sisters still thinks Streisand’s “So Long Dearie” in Hello, Dolly! is one of the greatest bits of comedic timing and the other one believes that Dangerous Liaisons has some of the greatest lines of the cinema.

             

There, take that for your inquisitiveness. 

ADDENDUM: Silly me, I didn't realise that the lovely Heather of Movie Mobsters tagged me too. I've been commenting on Heather's site very crazily this month, it started off as a shameless attempt to win the $10 I-tunes giftcard and then I realised that hers was actually an excellent blog (I'm glad I got around to following her and her Mobster Family).

Remember, An Education? Of course you do. Care Mulligan’s coming of age in London from Lone Scherfig that I fell deeply for… I’m still deeply rooted in my affection for An Education even if I never mustered up the time to critically review it (not here, not here, not here not even here). It’s nice to see that “education” fever is still in the air though, I’ve been reading more and more reviews of it and the most recent one struck me as well written (though I disagree with so much). Carson of the very intelligent Are the Hills Going to March Off (how have I never heard of this blog?) gave it quite the tongue lashing a few weeks ago that made me give my kneejerk long-ass comment, which immediately reminded me of what I said after just seeing An Education. I have a feeling that it strikes me so much because it seems like something that I would see happening. No I do not live in Twickenham (or England) and I do not attend (and never have attended) a girls’ school or private school, still it struck me as all very natural and more importantly – personal.

I noted that the opening credits before as particularly jaunty and irreverent (remember this post; I never got around to posting my favourite endings, but all in due time). When I watched it a month ago with some friends and my two sisters a friend of mine who had seen snippets of the middle asked me, “Is this the same film?” I guess the opening credits are misleadingly, but I still applaud Scherfig’s choice. There is only one scene in An Education I’d admit to disliking in particular, and that’s the one just after the credits – not that the cello conversation – the residual snippets of Jenny in class. I do love how Carey sits up to answer about Mr. Rochester (I really don’t like Jane Eyre) but it seems too much like hitting us over the head. Do we have to open with Jenny showing up her schoolmates? Incidentally…that was probably me in high school. I did love English Lit. But this isn’t sounding review-like, is it? I know. An Education has that effect on me.

For the record, I’d like to say that I think Cara Seymour is excellent here, as time goes by I’m wondering if she’s my favourite supporting player in the film (including Pike, Molina, Sarsgaard, Cooper, Thompson and Williams). On that note, how much people are in this movie? It seems as if it’s just about Jenny but the characters exist in their own realm, sans Jenny. It’s not a situation where I don’t buy them as realistic. These persons are all real, and I can imagine them before and after Jenny. Ah yes, but I was speaking of Cara Seymour. She has a knack for winsome facial reactions (like mother, like daughter) and even in that first cello scene that’s all Mulligan vs Molina I can’t help watching her. She’s like a Helen who has taken the highroad…and settled down. That single moment of her having some alone time with Jenny where she scrubs the spot is too short, and really An Education is just too short, I wish we had more time with her. Dare I say – sequel? She’s such an obvious mediator; like at Jenny’s “party” where Graham has his fateful exit, (remember Matthew Beard?) she’s just realistic, with that bland looking sponge cake and all. Yet, she’s not particularly meek in the face of her husband. Of course we all balk at Alfred Molina (unless we’re Vianne and opening a Cholaterrie during Lent, but I digress) but even when she’s following his orders Seymour always has that exasperated look on her face that’s mixed with amusement. Maybe it’s because I’m reading it at the moment but her dedication to her husband strikes me as similar to Linda’s faith in the misguided Willy in Death of A Salesman.

We look so good, and he still hasn't mentioned me.

                   

More than a few people have confessed to being less than impressed with Scherfig’s blandness in direction which is a sentiment I can’t help but be puzzled at. I think of the indulgency of Daniels in Precious and wonder why his indulgence is fine because it’s in-your-face. I don’t doubt, though, Scherfig may do well with a light romance (circa 19th century). I’m no fan of overused close-ups, but she thrives when she has all her actors in a room. Like the first table meeting of the three musketeers and Jenny, or both of Graham’s visits to the Mellor house. She knows who to cut to and when, even if we don’t and gets the reactions that are not at all studied. With expression, I of course turn to Carey because she like making faces. Really, I can’t say that Audrey comparisons strike me…I suppose they do have that same pixie look, but when it comes to expressions she reminds me of the other Hepburn. Not in physicality, per se, but in that way that Kate is termed a self-conscious beauty – isn’t Carey the same? Who knows? Perhaps she’s cold and calculating and is just an excellent pretender…but she definitely pulls the wool over my eyes.

My A-Level papers were better than this review

                    

I suppose I must examine that final “prosaic” monologue of A-Level studying, but I have no issues with the choice. Is it really too much to give Scherfig credit, juxtaposing Jenny’s earlier days of reckless abandonment (almost) against the extreme triteness (ostensibly, at least) of studying? Naturally if I take that route I’ll eventually meet up with the roadblock of the film’s contrasting messages. But I don’t find it worrisome (or even evident). Jenny’s obviously going to be learning from her education with David, and not just those pedestrian ones like being careful with men. Is it too much to take her final monologue seriously? Sure, she seems as wide-eyed and tasteless as all those other girls; but she’s had a taste of the other side. And neither is superior to the other, but Jenny knows who she is. As she makes that visit to Mrs. Stubbs and looks around the room with the placid decorations she realises that, perhaps, that’s all she’d ever need. After all, this is the education of Jenny…not Helen.

There… a thousand words and I still haven’t reviewed it (or talked about the excellence of Dominic Cooper). Tut, tut, tut. My writing teacher would balk at this plethora of words with no structure. I guess I’m just unable to review it....It's still an A for me, though.

                  

Get educated yourself…these bloggers actually knew where they were going with their reviews. I do like reading people's archives...

Andrew (not me)

The Pretentious Know It All (not me, either)