The Screengrab : the incredibles

The Best of 2008: Leonard Pierce's Picks for the Best Movies of the Year, Part Two

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 19:45:00 GMT

5. WALL*E (Andrew Stanton, dir.)

Pixar has been on such a roll of late that if they were a single director, they’d be getting mention in the same breath as the golden age greats. But they’re not; they’re an aggregate of many clever, talented folks who make computer-generated cartoons that are at least partly intended for children. I’m not going to argue that this isn’t sometimes a weakness; in WALL*E, the environmental message only seems fitting and appropriate because I happen to agree with it, and the crypto-Objectivism in The Incredibles only bothered me because I don’t. But regardless of the heavy-handedness of the moral, it can’t be denied that WALL*E is flat out the most wonderful film of the year, hopeful and funny and romantic and bittersweet all at the same time, and wrapped up in a package so beautiful to look at you wonder why anyone ever questions the potential of CGI. And if this astounding motion picture spawned an obnoxious marketing empire, one can only shake one’s head and say “Damn kids don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

4. RACHEL GETTING MARRIED (Jonathan Demme, dir.)

If you ever want to flummox a music critic, ask him to describe one of his favorite new bands without comparing them to another band. Of course, Rachel Getting Married proves that the same can occasionally be said for movie critics: it seems impossible to talk about without referencing something else. It’s got the dysfunctional family dynamics of Il y a Longtemps Que Je T’aime; the comeback-kid story of The Wrestler; the hateful-misanthrope-as-vehicle-for-joyous-redemption jawn of a Wes Anderson film (only better) and the structure and form of the late Robert Altman’s best work (only different). With all of these elements at play, though, it never seems derivative of anything else, only reminiscent in the best possible way. In the end, Rachel Getting Married is its own film, familiar yet new and impressive, and carried along by some of the finest acting of the year, most especially from Anne Hathaway and Bill Irwin.

3. CHE (Steven Soderbergh, dir.)

Steven Soderbergh keeps on making great movies, and never the same one twice. His latest is getting lots of what child care experts call “good attention” and “bad attention”; it’s certain that Soderbergh intended it that way, with its rigid formal structure, back-spasm-inducing length, difficult tonal shifts, and…oh, yeah, it’s a biopic about one of the most controversial figures of the 20th century. It’s just as hard to figure out how much of the negative reception is due to political and moral judgment of the revolutionary Che Guevara as it is to figure out how much of the positive reception comes from those who valorize him, but taken purely as a movie, Che is hard to beat: it’s formally daring, adventurously directed, risk-taking, well-made, and held together by a powerful performance that shows its subject neither as a heroic rebel or a vicious murderer, but simply as a man so consumed by his cause that he didn’t know what else to do than keep fighting for it.

2. WENDY AND LUCY (Kelly Reichardt, dir.)

There have been a number of exceptionally well-done documentaries in recent years about ordinary people dangling from the precipice of financial ruin in economically uncertain times, but successful narrative films dealing with the same subject have been few and far between. That’s largely because it’s hard to approach the topic in fiction without becoming didactic, maudlin, or treacly – and those challenges are certainly, and perilously, evident in Kelly Reichardt’s story about a young woman in brutally limited circumstances who loses her beloved dog while pursuing a slender chance at a decent job. But the miraculous thing about Wendy and Lucy is that it toes that line from its first frame to its last without ever tumbling down and making a mess of itself. That’s a testament to the top-notch script, the surprisingly deep direction, and the beautiful performance by lead actress Michelle Williams. No one could ever have predicted that an heir to the Italian neo-realist tradition would emerge in 2008 from America’s Pacific Northwest; that it happened is one of the year’s greatest surprises.

1. SYNECHDOCHE, NEW YORK (Charlie Kaufman, dir.)

There are so many things that could have gone wrong with Charlie Kaufman’s directorial debut. I first heard him talk about his desire to direct way back in 2004, when I interviewed him for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and when Synechdoche, New York was finally announced, I was full of dread. The video stores of America are choked with mediocre-to-bad movies by talented writers who decided what they really wanted to do was direct. I needn’t have worried: Synechdoche, New York is easily my favorite film of the year. Kaufman approached directing with the same meticulous, self-searching approach that he does writing, and the result is nothing short of astounding. The best movies, for me, are the ones that seem to completely rewire my head – that are so profound and well-crafted that they redefine my basic approach to their subject, form or content. Charlie Kaufman accomplishes that his first time out of the gate, and that’s the mark of a major talent.

ALMOST MADE IT: The Strangers, Doubt, Iron Man, The Wrestler, Bigger Stronger Faster*.

DIDN'T SEE THEM: Entre les Murs (The Class), Standard Operating Procedure, Lat den Ratte Komme In (Let the Right One In), Dear Zachary: A Letter To His Son About His Father, Trouble the Water, Full Battle Rattle, Le Voyage du Ballon Rouge (Flight of the Red Balloon).

PERFORMANCES OF THE YEAR: Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler; Bill Irwin, Rachel Getting Married; Kristin Scott Thomas, Il y a Longtemps Que Je T'aime; Viola Davis, Doubt.

MADE IN 2007, BUT GREAT IN 2008: 4 Luni 3 Saptamani si 2 Zile (4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days); Paranoid Park; My Winnipeg; Une Vielle Maitress (The Last Mistress); Auf der Anderen Seite (The Edge of Heaven); Encounters at the End of the World; Chop Shop.

OVERRATED: Waltz with Bashir; In Bruges; Happy-Go-Lucky; Slumdog Millionaire; Kung Fu Panda.

Click for Part One

The View through the View-Master: The Iron Giant

Hayden Childs — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 17:00:00 GMT

I can see where some might consider The Iron Giant too sad or too scary for little kids. But my little kids have taken to it. After all, it does feature a boy's relationship with a giant robot from outer space, which a story that kids really want to hear. I find it inexpressibly tragic, but my kids do not, and I'm happy about that.

The Iron Giant was Brad Bird's first film, a few years before The Incredibles and Ratatouille. It's based on The Iron Man, a story that Ted Hughes wrote for his kids to comfort them after their mother's suicide. Their mother was, incidentally, Sylvia Plath, who was never too good at math, according to noted scholar Peter Laughner, who knew a thing or two about premature death. The Iron Man is different in some important ways from The Iron Giant. For instance, the titular metal character fights a space-dragon instead of vintage Cold War fear.

The movie was originally put into production as a version of the stage production of Pete Townshend's rock opera The Iron Man. Brad Bird apparently fought to remove Townshend's songs, and thank goodness for that. I say this with all love for the bulk of Mr. Townshend's ouevre: they're not very good. Bird's artwork is all autumnal, beautiful, two-dimensional pastels, and there's not much continuity between the way that these characters are drawn and, say, The Incredibles, with its blobby roundness.

The plot centers on the unlikely friendship between Hogarth, a latchkey child of the 50s in Maine, and the Iron Giant, who is both metal and huge. A self-centered government agent arrives in Maine looking for the robot, and Hogarth has to enlist the help of a local beatnik to hide the robot from the government agent and his single mother. Eventually, the military is called in, and things go all klaatu barada nikto. Excuse me! I mean, things go awry based on humanity's penchant for violence.

My kids love the message of the movie, which is that anyone can choose who they will be. The Iron Giant learns about superheroes from Hogarth, and in the climax, chooses to emulate Superman rather than follow his programming. Superman Returns, which ground our noses in the symbolism as if we were naughty puppies, could have used a similar take on the meaning of sacrifice.

The Iron Giant's sacrifice is where the waterworks come in. For me, I mean, not my kids, who are way tougher. Also, they've seen the movie, so they know that there's a fairly happy ending in the near future. Parts of the movie are certainly pitched over their heads, but the humor in it is gentle and broad enough that even the preschool set finds it funny (of course, they'd find it funnier with more poop jokes). And the tragic parts don't seem so tragic to them, so no harm/no foul. Do yourself a favor for the next family movie night! It beats the holy heck out of another talking animal movie.

Screengrab Salutes: The Top 20 Animated Features (Part Four)

Phil Nugent — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 21:30:00 GMT

MILLENNIUM ACTRESS (2001)

This unusual Japanese film is arguably the most original and affecting movie yet from the Japanese director Satoshi Kon, whose other credits include Tokyo Godfathers and the wigged-out TV series Paranoia Agent. The title character here is Chiyoko Fujiwara, an ancient and reclusive film actress who consents to a rare filmed interview with her biggest fan, Genya Tachibana, a documentarian who once saved her life on a film set when he was a boy. As the actress, guided by the heavy-set, worshipful Tachibana, goes over the events of her life and career, they become inextricably mixed with scenes from her films and with Tachibana's own memories. (He sees himself as her devoted protector.) The film has some similarities to Kon's first feature, Perfect Blue, but without the murder-thriller plotting, and the violence and sexual nastiness that have stuck Kon with a reputation as Mister Kink. What's left is a dream about the movies and how they shape the memories and lives of those who make them, and those who watch them.

TOY STORY 2 (1999)

The third film from Pixar, which credits Ash Brannon and Lee Unkrich as co-directors alongside the busy John Lasseter, is one of those rare sequels that actually deepens and enriches the original. Partly this is just because the technology had already made great strides in the four years since the first Toy Story changed the face of animation. The visages of the human characters were no longer a freakishly hideous roadblock to enjoying what the computer animators were always able to accomplish when creating characters (toys, insects) with the appearance of hard plastic surfaces. By the time of Toy Story 2, their ability to play with the human form had improved to the point that they were able to cariacture it: the movie's villain, the fat, infantile collector (voice, inevitably, by Wayne Knight) who thinks that toys are for "appreciating" and profiteering (as opposed to being played with) is the nastiest, funniest potshot ever taken at geekdom from within the confines of a movie that might have been expected to kiss geekdom's ass a little. More importantly, the collector character paves the way for the humanoid triumphs of The Incredibles and the second half of Wall-E.

NAUSICAA OF THE VALLEY OF THE WIND (1984)

Technically, this epic sci-fi adventure predates the creation of Studio Ghibli, where its writer-director, Hayao Miyazaki, would go on to hatch such triumphs as Kiki's Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, and Castle in the Sky. But it definitely laid the groundwork for what was to come. It was the first feature on which Miyazaki worked as both director and writer (adapting the screenplay from the manga series of the same name that he was working on, which was begun a couple of years before the movie went into production but wasn't completed until after its release) and it served as his introduction to several major collaborators. It also established key elements of his work, ranging from its plucky young heroine to its creator's aircraft fetish, that would become very familiar to Miyazaki fans in the coming years. And in its environmental message and apocalyptic imagery, it's an especially close cousin to one film where he really kicked out the jams, Princess Mononoke. An overseas sensation, Nausicaa was first seen in America in a badly dubbed, incoherently re-edited, much shorter version (called Warriors of the Wind) that was put out by some people who we should pity for the torments they will eventually endure in Hell. In 2005, the real movie was finally made readily available on our shores thanks to DVD.

YELLOW SUBMARINE (1968)

The animated feature as sixties pop banquet, and if it's one of the many contenders for the title of First Full-Length Music Video, that wouldn't be an insult if more music videos had employed a spirit half as playful to go with their eye-popping visuals. With its happy mix of styles from all over and a script that delights in punning wordplay, it has the feel of a commercial job that turned into a labor of love for the many different talents involved, ranging from the director, George Dunning, a Canadian who never worked on anything as high-profile again, to Love Story author Erich Segal, one of several fellows credited with the screenplay. Amusingly, the list of people who worked closely on it does not include the Beatles, who were required to cough up a few new songs for the soundtrack but otherwise were too busy working on that deathless masterpiece Magical Mystery Tour to do anything but drop by the studio long enough to film the live-action epilogue, without question the worst and most easily dispensable thing in the movie. Most of the songs were already well-established hits from earlier albums, and their speaking voices were provided by various actors. At one point in the middle of the production, the cops showed up and hauled off the free-spirited dude who was providing the voice of Ringo; it turned out that he was a deserter from the British Army. After his departure, the rest of Ringo's lines were done by Paul Angelis, who was already playing both George Harrison and the head of the Blue Meanies. Although they appeared to love it as much as everyone else after they saw it, the Beatles' attitude about the movie while it was being made can perhaps be gauged by the title of George Harrison's contribution to the soundtrack, "Only a Northern Song"--a reference to the publishing company that had been formed to handle Lennon/McCartney compositions. (At the time, the title and such lyrics as "It doesn't really matter what chords I play/ What words I say or time of day it is/ As it's only a Northern song" might have been taken as a hint that Harrison was getting fed up with having his own songwriting career treated by his bandmates as an afterthought.)

Click here for Part One, Part Two, Part Three, & Part Five.

Screengrab Salutes: The Top 20 Animated Features Films (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 21:00:00 GMT

PERSEPOLIS (2007)

In the same way graphic novels like Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis have expanded the thematic possibilities of pen and ink comics beyond run-of-the-mill superhero adventures and the romantic entanglements of the gang at Riverdale High, so too does this pristine cinematic adaptation demonstrate the ability of animation to lend a necessary artistic distance to depictions of events that would simply be too grim or painful to watch otherwise. Satrapi’s autobiographical tale (which she co-scripted and co-directed with her graphic novel collaborator Vincent Paronnaud) tackles big subjects like the Iranian Revolution, Islamic fundamentalism and the agony of adolescence with visual flair and heartfelt humanity, while the voice performances (by an effervescent Danielle Darrieux, Catherine Deneuve and her daughter, Chiara Mastroianni (as Satrapi) are far more three-dimensional than many of 2007’s live action female roles.

WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT? (1988)

On the one hand, the inclusion of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is a bit of a cheat, since parts of the movie are live action...on the other hand, there’s a long tradition of films that combine ‘toons with real people, from Gertie the Dinosaur and Mary Poppins to Paula Abdul’s timeless duet with MC Skat Cat in her video for “Opposites Attract.” More important, though, is the unique and historic worlds-colliding nature of the project, which brings together a veritable who’s who of animation's golden age gliterrati in a mainline pleasure shot of pop culture ecstasy equivalent to a Star Wars sequel (NOT written by George Lucas) where Han, Chewie, Luke, Leia, R2D2, C3P0 and Yoda somehow team up with Captain Kirk, Jean-Luc Picard and all the rest of the Star Trek gang on Babylon Five to help Ellen Ripley battle Aliens. Or, to put it in slightly less embarrassingly geeky terms: the scene where Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse appear together on screen for the first and only time kicks the historic Robert De Niro/Al Pacino summit in Michael Mann’s Heat right square in the keister. I remember watching Roger Rabbit for the first time in a theater and hearing an audible gasp from the audience at the moment in the film when a live-action studio exec pulls up the shade in his office, only to find Dumbo hovering just outside: just the kind of giddy, weightless moment of gleeful surprise that animation was made for...plus, the controversy surrounding the public’s laser-disc discovery of a single-frame image of Jessica Rabbit with no panties was a perfect farewell joke from animation’s salty past as it passed its torch to the gleaming digital age.

THE INCREDIBLES (2004)

Brad Bird has developed a reputation as nothing less than a one-man Coen Brothers of the animation world. Like the Coens, his movies are crammed full of homages and references to other films; like the Coens, he’s proven adept at handling films in a wide variety of genres; like the Coens, he loves camera pyrotechnics and visual tricks of all sorts; and like the Coens, his idiosyncratic personality comes through in every project he tackles. The ex-Simpsons staffer has grown into the most immediately recognizable directorial presence in American animation, and this stunning (and often hilarious) take on the mythology of superheroes is possibly his greatest achievement. It’s almost pointless to praise the astonishing visuals, which, even four years down the road, don’t seem to have been surpassed by the ever-changing technology curve; but the real treat here is the deft blend of a solid action story featuring plenty of physical humor and rock-‘em-sock-‘em fight scenes for the kids with a fantastically sophisticated storytelling style for the adults, including visual callback to everything from Saul Bass and James Bond to the Fantastic Four. It’s also a movie well worth owning on DVD, with a ton of bonuses including kid-pleasing animated shorts and a whole cornucopia of hidden jokes for the grown-ups. The Incredibles is that rare breed of movie that really does have something for everyone.

GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES (1988)

1988 was a banner year for Japanese animation. While Akira was opening up new vistas for the possibilities of “Japanimation” to convey dark and heavy sci-fi/action themes, Isao Takahata was showing the world that the same medium was capable of telling small, quiet, emotional stories that had just as much power and impact. Based on a tragicomic memoir by Akiyuki Nosaka, Grave of the Fireflies tells the story of a young Japanese boy who, along with his sister, faces the massive changes and upheavals that came with the Second World War. Takahata had himself survived the bombing of Hiroshima, and the book struck a particularly personal chord with him; he decided he would make his animated adaptation – produced by Studio Ghibli at the same time as Hayao Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro – as realistic as possible, including the decision, unusual in animation involving children, to cast age-appropriate voice actors in all the roles. One of the most shocking things about the film is that it begins on a jarringly tragic note, with the death of the narrator: the rest of the film chronicles the inevitable events that lead up to it, devastatingly portraying how, in trying times, even those with the best of intentions can make irrevocably bad decisions. An incredibly moving, terrible sad, and beautifully made film, and an unsparing portrait of the eternal costs of war.

Click Here for Part One, Part Two, Part Four, & Part Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce

That Guy!: Wallace Shawn

Peter Smith — Wed, 28 Nov 2007 21:00:00 GMT

"Squat", "toadlike" and "bespectacled" are not the first three adjectives you want on the list when you're building your movie star résumé. But That Guy! isn't about movie stars. It's about character actors, B-listers, stock-in-traders — and Wally Shawn is one of the best. Best imagined as the guy who gets parts for which Bob Balaban is simply too macho and charismatic, Shawn suffered perhaps the ultimate indignity when, playing Diane Keaton's ex in Manhattan (his movie debut), he was described as a "homunculus" by none other than Woody Allen, himself not entirely lacking in homuncular qualities. Still, the son of legendary New Yorker editor William Shawn has managed to carve out a decent Hollywood career playing nebbishes, losers and schnooks — while simultaneously building an eminently respectable career in New York as an insightful, volatile playwright whose work is intelligent, fiercely political and often controversial. Harvard-educated and terrifically well-informed, Shawn has written opinion pieces for The Nation, interviewed Noam Chomsky, and produced a widely-read translation of Bertolt Brecht's The Threepenny Opera, all while appearing in Hollywood fare ranging from Clueless to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. His distinctively nasal, high-pitched voice has made him a natural for animation, and he's provided memorable voice-overs as Rex the dinosaur in the Toy Story franchise and Bob Parr's insufferable boss in The Incredibles. Only a few of Wallace Shawn's outstanding plays have made it to film; while a David Hare-directed version of The Designated Mourner (perhaps his finest work) was made in 1997, it was seen by precious few people, and his most popular script, Aunt Dan and Lemon, remains unfilmed. But as an actor, Shawn has endeared himself and his ungainly appearance to thousands of people who know nothing about his off-Broadway existence.

Where to see Wallace Shawn at his best:

MY DINNER WITH ANDRE (1981)

The movie that put Wally Shawn on the map — and gave him his first and last leading-man role to date — was made at a time when he was still known only as the author of some well-reviewed plays in New York. Louis Malle's filmed adaptation of a number of actual conversations Shawn had with his friend Andre Gregory, who has been the director of a number of Shawn's plays, turned out to be a surprise hit, proving that there was a bigger audience than previously suspected whose idea of a good time was watching two overeducated Manhattanites argue about whether or not an electric blanket is morally defensible.

THE PRINCESS BRIDE (1987)

Wallace Shawn's best-known role is as the not-so-masterful criminal mastermind Vizzini in Rob Reiner's beloved adaptation of William Goldman's The Princess Bride. It is here that he gives new meaning, or lack thereof, to the word "inconceivable," and gets to play straight man to Andre the Giant in one of Hollywood's oddest comic pairings. (Shawn claims that he played the role of Vizzini perfectly straight, since he lacks a sense of humor. That claim in and of itself would seem to suggest otherwise.)

VANYA ON 42nd STREET (1994)

A meta-referential film that is both an adaptation of Anton Chekov's Uncle Vanya and a movie about making that adaptation (and making the movie about making the adaptation), Vanya on 42nd Street is one of the most successful blends ever of film and theatre, thanks largely to its explosion of talent: aside from Wallace Shawn in the title role, it features great performances from Julianne Moore as Yelena and Brooke Smith as Sonya, a crackerjack script by David Mamet and tight, taut direction by Louis Malle, and a big-screen reunion of Shawn and Andre Gregory, again playing himself.

— Leonard Pierce