Film review: NEBRASKA

Directed by Alexander Payne

8/10

Apparently there are people who will find this just depressing. And you can’t blame those people, they have every reason and right to be depressed. Nebraska is black and white, slow, awkward, not especially eventful. How exactly could it not become a critics’ darling nominated for every award in America and elsewhere?

You won’t be depressed if you appreciate good filmmaking. Nebraska is when understated becomes impressive, when slightly oddball becomes extremely moving. My advice would be to get into the groove of this thing, especially if you are new to Alexander Payne’s world. However, if you’ve been here since Election (what a great, great film), the only distinct difference would be the monochrome colouring of Nebraska.

But just consider how natural it is, Alexander Payne making a film in black and white. The aesthetics are the same, and it’s humour through pain and awkwardness and understatement. The world you see is very real, and just the tiniest bit farcical. Which might be the bit that makes Payne’s style so interesting and so unique in the first place.  

The premise is very simple. Woody Grant, a delusional and disillusioned old man, thinks he won a $1 million sweepstakes prize and wants to claim it by getting to Lincoln, Nebraska. Basically – on foot. His son, another local loser (Payne does them well), is weak-willed and tender-hearted to the extent that he gives in to the hopeless whim and agrees to drive them both to their vague destination. At some point Nebraska becomes something of a road film, with distant and not-so-distant echoes of his past works, Sideways and especially About Schmidt. 

While not much happens throughout the film, I absolutely refuse to view it as some sort of intellectual tax you have to pay to the world of art. Nebraska isn’t boring; it has too much humour and warmth to be boring. 

Film review: INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS

Directed by Joel and Ethan Coen

9/10

If ever in your life you decide to do something as foolish and irresponsible as write fiction, don’t attend seminars and don’t take up courses in creative writing. Instead, invest some of your time in the Coen brothers’ films. Fargo. Miller’s Crossing. Barton Fink. The Man Who Wasn’t There. Even lesser stuff like The Hudsucker Proxy could prove extremely useful. Because much of what you need to know about the story and crisp, clear-cut symbolism will be there on screen, coupled with fantastic acting, cinematography and all other joys that only films can bring.

Inside Llewyn Davis is pure aural and visual bliss. It is roughly based on the life of a relatively unknown 60’s folk artist, Dave Van Ronk, and tells about a week in the life of a one-time Greenwich Village folk singer who wanted to make it big but never had the guts or charisma to do so. In a way, he never even tried.

Dave Van Ronk was a fitting prototype for the idea. I’m familiar with the guy’s recordings, and it’s decent folk music with good spirit and little imagination. Basically, it lacks that vital reinvention that Dylan underwent between 1962 and 1963. The Coens use some of the stuff he did (“Green, Green Rocky Road”), a Peter, Paul and Mary classic (“Five Hundred Miles”, written by Hedy West) and even one brilliant original (Justin Timberlake, of all people, co-wrote the catchy folk-pop gem “Please, Mr. Kennedy”). Particularly good are two traditional songs, “Hang Me, Oh Hang Me” and “Fare Thee Well (Dink’s Song)”, which you get to hear a couple of times throughout the film. In other words, the soundtrack to Inside Llewyn Davis is indispensable. Just imagine a 60’s take on O Brother, Where Art Thou?, with T-Bone Burnett back to what he does so well.

Speaking of style, it’s the Coens of A Serious Man sort. The gorgeous, autumnal colours, an unlikely hero under pressure, lots of despair and dry wit. There’s not much violence (the little we see is hilarious), just the story and the beautiful, depressing world of the famed folk scene of 60’s New York. The acting is superb, but then you never see under-par acting in a Coens film. Oscar Isaac is tortured and stubborn and just a little bit annoying. Justin Timberlake is all understated charm; soft voice and humble sweaters. Carey Mulligan is at her cynical, down-to-earth best. I also love Jeanine Serralles who plays Llewyn’s sister: she is angry and loving and absolutely adorable. And please note that the actors are the ones who actually perform these songs. And live, too. Classic Coens. 

The story is of course intricate and clever, and you just have to love the cute ginger cat whose name is Ulysses. It’s a brilliant journey indeed, though God knows it isn’t too much fun getting inside Llewyn Davis. After all, some talent just breeds frustration.

SONG OF THE WEEK #136: Twin Peaks - "James' Song"

Twin Peaks is of course a masterpiece for all ages. I'm not sure how this thing will sound out of context, but I'd just like to quote a certain YouTube comment by one 'Jim Morrissey': "This song is gorgeous, cheesy, ridiculous, sexy, insane, dumb, amazing - all at once." Precisely. 

Film review: ALL IS LOST

Directed by J. C. Chandor

7/10

All Is Lost is a sort of lo-fi disaster film. It has great quality, it’s made with style, and Robert Redford holds the screen with masterful ease, but you have to wonder if that screen could hold mainstream audience looking for thrills. This is very basic and very unadorned for a disaster film. I can very much imagine an obscure cinema on the outskirts of a small town playing it at uncomfortable hours.

It’s quite astonishing that J. C. Chandor had his debut in 2011 with a film that couldn’t be any more different. Margin Call was a slick, smart, quick-paced financial drama; All Is Lost is a low-budget survival story about a man lost at sea. The film is slow, but if you get into its mood – you will find this quite engaging.

Robert Redford (who is the only person you will see in the film) is 86 years old, but my God is he giving a robust performance. It’s not in any way imposing or particularly conspicuous (even considering that he is always on screen), but there is great understated power in his every movement. And by far my favourite part about All Is Lost is that we are never told why this man is at sea in the first place. Where is he going? What’s his story? All we see is one man trying to hold on to life. And for once – this seems enough. 

There are no visual effects and the plot twists are all within the powers of your imagination, which makes All Is Lost so electrifyingly realistic. But Christ – that script must have been ludicrously short.

Film review: BLUE JASMINE

Directed by Woody Allen

9/10

Blue Jasmine is Woody Allen’s best film since Sweet And Lowdown. But of course: critics have been saying this for years, decades now. Match Point, remember, was Allen’s best drama since Crimes And Misdemeanors. Midnight In Paris, too, was a remarkable return to form and Allen’s best comedy since Hannah And Her Sisters. And so it goes, on and on. However, what I’m saying is that Blue Jasmine is Woody Allen’s best film since 1999. By this director’s standards, 15 years is nothing. His week beats your year.

I don’t know how well the audience I was in the cinema with knew Allen’s past films, but when the screen went black and the lights were switched on, there was an awkward silence that screamed disbelief. It’s not that people wanted more. It’s them not quite realizing that that particular image of Cate Blanchett was the one they would have to go home with. That Woody Allen could cut it off without warning and without a kiss. Even Match Point seemed more upbeat seconds before the closing credits. So, the silence: you can’t wean people off happy endings.

Feeling of sweet despair. Despair – because the story (I believe this to be Allen’s best script in years) doesn’t let in too much light. It does allow for a few hilarious trademark jokes, but you wouldn’t expect many from a painful riches to rags tale. Sweet – because Blue Jasmine gives off so much of that velvety, pleasantly old-fashioned Woody Allen feel. It’s that unmistakable vibe, coupled with substance (there’s nothing remotely fillerish about this film). Allen and bad acting never really went together, and there isn’t a single performance here I could fault. But it’s Cate Blanchett you can’t look away from. She holds the screen tightly and never lets go. She oozes despair, neurosis, tortured feeling, humiliation – often all those things in one scene, one shot. If she doesn’t get every best actress award imaginable, someone has to be blind. 

Blue Jasmine is Woody Allen film #45 (note that I discard What’s Up, Tiger Lily? yet do include the short Oedipus Wrecks and the Herbert Ross-directed Play It Again, Sam onto the list), and out of those 45 I don’t count one I could call bad. Blue Jasmine belongs to the top league, and I really couldn’t care less about the sex abuse controversy.