Citizen Kane (1941)

Kane's iconic campaign-poster shot

Re-watching “The Film…”

As much as I enjoy cinema, until recently I’d only seen Citizen Kane once, and that was a long time ago. I think I was too young and philistine when I watched it, because after it was over I remember thinking “…what’s the hub-bub about?” I mean, Kane is almost universally praised by critics as the greatest motion picture of all time. Welles’ work as writer/director/producer on the film is cited as evidence of his genius. But for some reason, the film was largely lost on me. After seeing Casablanca for the first time, I remember thinking “now that’s the classic that lives up to its reputation!” The inference being that Kane…not so much.

So I went back and watched it recently, hoping I’d get more from it this time. Going in, I assumed “most of the cutting-edge technological leaps and creative flourishes which Kane made famous are now things that have more or less become standard during my 40 years of film viewing. So while they may have been a big deal back then, they’re all taken for granted, at this point, right?” After watching it again, what I found (with the help of Roger Ebert’s terribly insightful commentary on the DVD extras; his perspective felt like taking an abbreviated film course) is that now I think I finally get it. At least a little bit more than before.

What I hadn’t realized was that it wasn’t just the story (which is a kind of mystery about the meaning of billionaire Charles Foster Kane’s last words, but along the way examines wealth, greed, egalitarianism, and power) or the acting that earned Kane its accolades, but the technical aspects, and their execution, which were so revolutionary.

What struck me initially was terrific, old-fashioned dialogue that movies just don't have any more. Who writes lines like “Hey everybody, lookee over here!”, and “Don’t worry about me! I’m Charles Foster Kane!” in 2014? So that grabbed me. What should’ve impressed, (at least according to Ebert) was how, during the early edits of the opening scenes, the light in the window of Kane’s mansion “Xanadu” stays in essentially the exact same place, despite shots fading in-and-out; important technical stuff like this is too often lost on me).

Also, there was the exaggerated lighting and dark shadows (that reminded me of, and obviously influenced Scorsese, later on). Ebert specifically lauded the revolutionary work of cinematographer Gregg Toland, in his remarks. He points out things like how certain characters’ faces were always cloaked in shadows and darkness, as well as how Toland plays with light in certain scenes (specifically those where he creates shafts of light in the screening room and enormous museum/vault scenes. Further, Ebert notes how elevated sets were constructed so cameras could often placed at floor-level, shooting upwards at its subjects. This low-level angle created the “mythic shot” where, when looking up at subjects, characters take on an air of being larger than life. In addition, this perspective keeps the ceilings (which were created out of muslin fabric which became, and in which many of the lights and microphones were hidden) in frame. I'm not sure I’d have ever noticed any of these small touches.

Another of Tolland’s innovations is the creation of  “deep focus.” He uses a technique in which everything on screen is in focus, regardless of their distance from the camera. This allows characters in the background to also demand attention, creating multiple points of interest. Thus, Kane has extensive foreground/background shots, changing depth of field without changing focus. 

Other stylistic embellishments would go on to influence later generations of film makers. Characters speak off-camera, which Woody Allen would ultimately adopt (as well as Kane’s off-center framing).  Cameras often move and telescope into extreme close up, trademarks of Terrence Malick’s work decades later. The stark interiors recall the set design of the Coen Brothers Hudsucker Proxy. Comic, staccato line deliveries rival those of Abbot and Costello and the Marx Bros. Newsreel footage at beginning reveals plot points, then the story circles back around to them later, a story-telling style Tarantino used in Pulp Fiction. The enormous warehouse full of endless crates is appropriated by Speilberg almost identically, in the final shot of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

One scene at a dinner table is famous for how, through clever editing, it illustrates the passage of time.

The acting is typical of the time period. Most everyone else over emotes, as if on stage performing a play. Which makes sense, since many were radio actors who’d previously worked with Welles. His Charles Foster Kane is larger than life, so the exaggerated style fits. Similarly anachronistic is the fact that seemingly everyone smokes.

As an influential piece of work, that changed the ways in which motion pictures were made, Kane is unrivaled. It’s unconventional use of lighting, camera angles, perspective and story telling must’ve turned off audiences used to more predictable fare; it wasn’t a box-office hit.

But is it entertaining? Not all the time. In parts, pacing is slower than most of what we’re used to from Hollywood today. It’s not nearly as light on its feet as something like It’s a Wonderful Life. However, as a drama, it’s not trying to be, either.

I felt a little cheated while watching. Kane has become such a cultural touchstone, I knew what the puzzling “Rosebud” meant all along. If I hadn’t, would Citizen Kane been a different experience? Almost certainly. It was still a good film. Though perhaps more so to film scholars than to the general public.

PS- If you can, watch a version that contains Ebert’s commentary. It adds immeasurably to understanding what makes this film great.

To the Wonder (2012)

Reviewing Terrence Malick films isn’t easy.

I remember a group of us talking outside a theatre in Waltham, MA, after seeing The Thin Red Line. One in the group remarked “…that film didn’t need to be made…” My sister and I stood wide eyed. Aghast. Slack jawed. Not because our movie tastes were so much more sophisticated than our companion’s, but because we’d both liked it very much.

Still, I understood what my friend meant. The film’s narrative was unbelievably loose. It’s pacing was deliberate, to put it mildly. It was far from the traditional Friday-night fare he’d expected.

Every shot in a Malick film is a work of art. Gorgeous far beyond reality. Wide, panoramic shots of the sky, as well as several others of water—still, running, puddles, lakes, rivers, etc... I’m not sure how he does it, but every frame looks perfect. Many evoke a feeling of discovery, somehow. Dialogue is scare. All this gives the films a hypnotic quality. To the Wonder is no exception.

The story’s about a couple, played by Ben Affleck (Gone Baby Gone, Argo, Chasing Amy, Good Will Hunting, Hollywoodland, The Sum of All Fears) and Olga Kurylenko (Seven Psychopaths, Quantum of Solace). They met and began dating in Paris. She has daughter from a previous relationship. He works studying ground pollution from energy companies (it’s unclear which side he’s on, the companies or the environmentalists; however, given how he dresses, the car he drives and their home, I'm guessing he works for the polluters). They relocate somewhere in the Midwest. It’s a generic town of upscale subdivisions, and chain restaurants.

We see countless scenes of them together, many without dialogue. Most seem happy times, with them wandering the streets of Paris and later unpacking in their new Midwestern home. Others, however, are tumultuous. They fight in a restaurant for reasons we don’t yet know. Infidelity (both potential and literal) looms over the relationship. Having gone from urban life in Paris to this slow-paced, non-descript town she, in particular, seems a lonely fish out of water. Though she’s giving it a go, it’s clear she’s unhappy.

A second storyline involves a priest, played by Javiar Bardem (The Dancer Upstairs, No Country for Old Men, Vicky Christina Barcelona, Skyfall, the Sea Inside). He’s a gentle man, who’s fighting feelings of ambivalence about his faith. He’s struggling to feel the influence of God in the modern world.

Accompanying his wife to a local hospital, Affleck has a chance encounter with a pretty former friend (Rachel McAdams; Mean Girls, Midnight In Paris, Wedding Crashers). Seeking refuge from his crumbling marriage, they immediately hit it off.

Malick’s camera is rarely static. Instead it’s often hand-held, panning back-and-forth from character to character. Sometimes it runs along with them, chasing its subjects. As mentioned, he loves filming water. Something about its undulating fluidity is beautiful and calming.

To the Wonder is a mysterious, meditative film, whose story is told mostly in wordless images and voice over. It examines the difficult parts of maintaining relationship, that cinema too often takes for granted: temptation, stability, boredom, personal satisfaction and commitment when times get hard. I found it less interesting and compelling than Tree of Life. Its pacing is deliberately slow, the story unfolding in flash forward and back. I didn’t love it, but it's very beautiful to look at. I’m glad I saw it.

The Conversation (1974)

In 1974, between his landmark Godfather I and II films, director Francis Ford Coppola wrote and directed The Conversation. It’s a thriller about clandestine surveillance experts, starring the inimitable Gene Hackman (Hoosiers, the Royal Tenenbaums, Heist, Mississippi Burning, No Way Out, Unforgiven, etc...)

Hackman plays the nerdy Harry Caul. He’s a freelancer, whose got his own hi-tech shop in an impossibly cool warehouse. It’s filled with reel-to-reel players, sound-wave readers, oversize speakers, and several other gadgets with too many knobs and dials.

Knowing how easily conversations can be intercepted, Caul is wary to the point of paranoid about his privacy. He’s got several locks on his front door, doesn’t engage in small talk at his office, and doesn’t own a home phone (using only public payphones). 

Caul takes freelance jobs without knowing his bosses motivations. He simply records people talking, and provides the tapes to paying customers. To his mind, his is merely a small part of a bigger picture.

However, because of something that went wrong in his past (left intentionally ambiguous by the film makers), he begins to grow suspicious about the intentions of his current bosses. Their offices are in a modern building, that would be suitable for the CIA. When he tries to meet directly with the man he’s working for, he can’t get past an intermediary (a very young, pre-Han Solo Harrison Ford) So what might happen with the tapes he records? Could they be used for nefarious purposes? Where does this all lead? Could someone perhaps get hurt as a result?

I have no idea what the secretive world of surveillance professionals might be like, but Coppola’s is a believable version. The Conversation follows these men around a conference where they shop for the latest spy paraphernalia. They brag about their greatest jobs, trying to outdo each other. At the start, we see Caul’s team trying to record a couple (“Laverne and Shirley’s” Cindy Williams and Frederic Forrest) circling San Francisco’s Union Square Park. From there, events happen that cause Caul (and the viewer) to wonder who he’s working for. Among this cast of characters, who can be trusted? Is anything as it seems to be?

Given his resume, Coppola is a legend in cinema. Here he allows the story to unfold slowly and deliberately. But it’s also entertaining. The film builds and simmers with energy and suspense. As the twitchy Caul, Hackman is his usual, reliable self. The sound design on scratchy recordings is creative, especially given that the film’s 40 years old. The Conversation has certain earmarks of 70s films (bad hair, clothes, washed-out look) which could have made it feel dated. Yet it feels surprisingly vibrant and fresh. Sure, it has some superfluous characters and scenes. And it feels somewhat low-budget, compared to the Godfather films. But it’s also unpredictable, gritty and ominous, in all the right ways. 

As we’ve learned from recent NSA revelations, be careful what you say. Someone (maybe Harry Caul?) is always listening. 

Inequality for All (2013)

Inequality for All, the 2013 documentary by Jacob Kornbluth which stars former Labor Secretary Robert Reich, paints a disturbing picture of how the wealth in the United States is concentrating into fewer and fewer hands. Based on Reich’s 2010 book Aftershock: the Next Economy and America’s Future, the film’s main point is that a strong and stable middle class is indicative of a nation’s healthy, productive and sustainable economy. And in the America of 2014, the middle class is shrinking.

The film opens with Reich’s lecturing before one of his large Cal-Berkely classes. A diminutive man, he holds court before auditorium packed to overflowing. He’s clearly a rock-star professor.

Though charts and graphs, Inequality makes a convincing case that the 1% are profiting the expense of the rest of us. Reich shows inverse correlation between union membership, political partisanship, and of middle-class wealth. According to him, things are not headed in the right direction. 

In addition to being well informed on the issues, Reich comes across as an amiable, thoughtful, charismatic guy. Despite his small stature, he’s clearly a big thinker (he’s taught at Harvard and Brandeis; he’s clearly a bright guy). He drives a Mini Cooper because (as he says) the two are “in proportion.” He’s funny, insightful, seems trustworthy and (unlike most politicians) remarkably human. What drives his thinking is not ideology, but compassion for his fellow human. He’s inspiring and optimistic.

What surprised me was how emotionally stirring parts of the film are. Reich recalls boyhood connections with a well-known historical figure, and how it affected his philosophy and life choices. It’s moving, and heart warming.

Along with a recurring suspension-bridge-shaped graph, the film makers use personal interviews, animation, and myriad stock footage (ranging from black-and-white images from several decades ago, all the way up to the present day) to make their points. Despite some fairly dense material, the film’s nimble and interesting. It’s not a dry, slow or boring, but instead engaging and entertaining throughout. It’s also persuasive (which is perhaps to be expected since, where my politics are concerned, it’s preaching the choir). Inequality joins Enron: the Smartest Guys in the Room, An Inconvenient Truth, Client 9: the Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer, and Inside Job on a growing list of left-leaning docs, which are as intellectually stimulating as they are viscerally compelling.

Sightseers (2012)

"Did you bring the sleeping bags and s'mores fix-ins?"

In the DVD bonus materials for the 2012 movie Sightseers, the principal actors and director claim they made a black comedy. That wasn’t how it came across. What I found was a character study of two very maladjusted, dangerous people.

Chris and Tina recently began dating. At the start, we see them packing a caravan. Against the wishes of her judgmental mother, they’ve decided to go camping across rural England.

Though outwardly each seems fairly normal, it’s not long before it’s clear they’re odd birds. Just beneath the surface each harbors seething rage.

We’re not told much about their backgrounds. She lives at home with a controlling mother, and works with animals. She’s conspicuously insecure, and a little too eager to please Chris. His acceptance nourishes her more than it would if she possessed more confidence.

Chris is tormented by perceived petty slights. He interprets a man littering at a trolley museum as a personal affront. The fact that he’s powerless to do anything about it beyond calling the litterbug on his actions only heightens his resentment. When the man not only refuses to clean up his mess, but taunts Chris about it, Chris gets his revenge by “accidently” backing over the man with the caravan.

So it begins.

At campgrounds, on hiking trails, while visiting pencil museums (???) and the like, Tina and Chris bump in to various people who annoy them to varying degrees. They come to realize that, rather than being inconvenienced by such things as a stranger’s requests to pick up after their dog at a public park, they can simply off him instead.

As they travel around to different locales, the bodies pile up. Someone’s too loud in a restaurant, or not polite enough by the campfire. Grounds enough for Chris and Tina to nix them. Initially Chris does most of the dirty work, but as time passes Tina gets in on the act. He approves of her violence, which only validates her, and provides her much-needed esteem.

I’ve never seen either actor (Alice Lowe and Steve Oram, who were members of a British comedy troupe) before, which does lend a sense of creepy mystery. The pair are mundane, nondescript, middle-class nobodies. I suppose this is where the comedy is supposed to come in. The movie's tag line talks about murder having "a ginger beard" and "knitted jumper." Kinda amusing, but not so much jocular. 

With eerie music, long silences and awkward character interactions, director Ben Wheatley (Kill List; Down Terrace) imbues Sightseers with a palpable uncomfortable (not comedic) mood. Scenes of goofy, stilted small talk between strangers at tourist spots feel right. I've been on those vacations with my parents, rolling my eyes when they blurted out what they thought were funny rejoinders in response to tour guides’ questions, and then wanted to visit yet another battle field. That wasn’t funny, either.

World Trade Center (2006)

Rescue workers search for survivors

Even though I was fascinated by the event that inspired it, for some reason I never saw the 2006 film World Trade Center. I guess I figured it was going to be an overly earnest, biased, or over-the-top portrayal of the horrible carnage we all saw that day. Because of the exhaustive and continuous news coverage, I couldn’t imagine there was much about the tragedy I didn’t already know. Still, curious about the film all these years later, I watched it recently on DVD, and was pleasantly surprised.

The planes crash relatively early in the film. All that’s shown is the shadow of a jet racing over Manhattan’s skyline. We’ve all seen enough unsettling newsreel footage that we understand what’s coming. Smart of director Oliver Stone to avoid showing all that again. It could've veered into exploitative, gratuitous territory.

Rather than trying to encompass all the overarching events of the disaster, Stone (Natural Born Killers, JFK, Wall Street, Platoon) chooses instead to focus on the stories of just a handful of locals who suffered as a result the tragedy.

The main protagonists are a group of Port Authority police officers, who arrive shortly after the airliners’ impact. The buildings are still standing, but on fire many floors up. Chaos reigns. Unsure how to even begin to comprehend the carnage they discover, they begin evacuating victims, and prepare to scale the towers. When the buildings ultimately fall, the group's in an underground shopping mall beneath them. Miraculously three of the men survive the collapse by diving into a stairwell. However, once the dust settles they’re trapped beneath the towers’ endless sea of rubble. Their families don’t know whether they’ve survived or not, only that the men were at the scene (and maybe inside) when the buildings came down. Like the rest of us at the time, the families are tortured by conflicting media reports, and sometimes contradictory and incomplete government press conferences.

A lesser storyline documents an ex-marine (Michael Shannon; Take Shelter, HBO's prohibition-crime drama Boardwalk Empire, Revolutionary Road) who, after seeing media coverage, decides to don his old uniform and head down to ground zero. He’s not sure how, but hopes he might be able to help.

The bulk of the film takes place in conversations between police chief McLoughlin (Nicolas Cage; H.I. in Raising Arizona, Matchstick Men, the Weather Man, Face/Off, the Rock) and Jimeno (Michael Pena; Academy-Award winning Crash, the crackling End of Watch, Oscar-nominated American Hustle, and the hysterical HBO comedy Eastbound and Down). They try to keep each other's spirits up, and stay alive while buried beneath tons of twisted metal and concrete. Badly injured and located several yards below the surface, it seems impossible they’ll ever be found.

WTC is undeniably emotionally powerful. Watching the two men suffer against immeasurable odds, is gripping. The lengths to which the rescue workers go to save them is life affirming. The families’ rollercoaster of alternating hope and despair is excruciating/agonizing. I was moved by several scenes, especially those with McLoughlin’s wife Donna (Maria Bello; the Cooler, A History of Violence, Auto Focus, Thank You for Smoking).

That said, most of the film is a fairly standard melodrama. Men trapped in life-threatening situations, and their families fear of the worst, is fare we’ve seen countless times before. The enormity of the 9/11 incident isn’t matched by the film’s scope. It’s somehow diminished by reducing it to the story of two men and their immediate families. Not that their suffering isn’t worth something, but this was an event that affected the entire globe.

The scenes of the towers’ crumbling are incredibly tense, realistic and accomplished filmmaking. They’re as violent, frightening and believable as anything in this year’s Academy Award-winning Gravity. It’s difficult to imagine what being there might have been like, but the film makers do an impressive job of re-creating the unimaginable. The images director Stone and his special- and visual-effects teams created are an impressive technical achievement.

Art director (Richard L. Johnson) and production designer (Jan Roelfs) merit mention. The live-action sets for “the pile” are terrifically expansive and realistic. The DVD extras, which describe how the sets (as well as the computer and visual effects) were created, are nearly as interesting as the movie itself.

WTC is certainly worth seeing. It’s not Stone's best work, but it is riveting, powerful stuff. His camera takes us inside the crevices beneath the towers’ shattered remains. To its credit, the film doesn’t trivialize 9/11 by using it solely as a vehicle for entertainment. It’s about the emotions left behind by the aftermath, more than terrorism. Likewise, it doesn’t traffic in politics, either. No mention is made of al Qaeda, President Bush, blowback, or failures of the intelligence community. It’s about a few individuals whose lives were directly affected by that dreadful day.