A Movie Nearly Every Night: Chaplin

Chaplin (1992)

Dir: Richard Attenborough
Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Geraldine Chaplin, Paul Rhys, John Thaw, Moira Kelly, Anthony Hopkins

My parents went to see the new Sherlock Holmes last weekend and loved it. Since I don't like going to movies alone I stayed at home and put on an older Downey picture. We just watched Tati's Playtime (that I will post about as soon as I can get the dvd and take screen shots -- the Bluray is brilliant on the tv; bad for the pc), so I figured I'd watch Chaplin as a kind of Downey-clown cercle rouge. I don't think I'd seen it all the way through since the theater, so, like Harry Potter, it was kind of new to me to watch it with hindsight, knowing what would come later for Robert Downey Jr.

But weirder still is thinking of what he'd done before this movie. I mean, honestly, Less Than Zero is probably the biggest role and it's such a silly, neon mess (with the exception, as always, of the cool and stylish Spader) -- how did he get this big job in the first place?

But he's so naturally Chaplin, from the start, and it's not his voice or that his hair looks like Chaplin's or any of the outer trappings, but it's how he moves through Chaplin's ages and experiences, making each stage subtle through gestures and body language (regardless of how rubbery the makeup gets in the later years).

Old man fidgeting and insecurity shines through the latex

Like the way he watches movies for the first time in a barn in Montana. It's one of those bio-movie pivotal moments (although Attentborough wisely holds back on the swelling music until it's done, thank God), but it could easily be over acted. Let's face it, bio-movies are by genre obvious and over done because they have to throw 80 years of a person's life at you in 2.5 hours. But Downey slows it down. He plays it with an expression of subtle fascination and almost scientific interest, and this little thing he does with his hat, as though to protect himself from revealing too much or taking too much in, like a geisha hiding behind a fan.

Charlie and Stan Laurel (Matthew Cottle) take in the flickers

Narratively, he's watching a short moment of film again and again, but he still raises his hat at "the best part" and covers the lower part of his face. Stan tosses it off with "I've seen it -- you've got a telegram." Chaplin's seen it too, but no matter how often they run it it's still drawing him in and making him react with that shield to protect himself, like he's going to let out a shout each time. It's an unspoken, entirely acted, revealing moment in the character, showing us the feeling Chaplin seemed to want to reproduce later in his own films.

Sure, again, bio-pic, so there are plenty of obvious moments ("people are poor ... I'll make Modern Times"), but when he comes up with The Great Dictator it's better than the other "pivotal" moments. Chaplin tells his brother (Paul Rhys) that he wants to make this movie because he "understands" Hitler ("I know you, you bastard," he says) and that they're very similar: born the same year, 4 days apart, etc... It's a few lines of dialogue that can be tossed off in a hurry to move the scene along, but it's played with this middle-aged intensity from a guy who was, what, 26 when this movie was made? But Downey is driven, charismatic, embodying the role of Chaplin as Chaplin embodies the role of the dictator, because he understands him. It's film about film, character as character as character (for more on that see Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, another interesting character movie with the Downey Jr. and, yes, Val Kilmer ... it's good. Better than you think. Okay, you just have to trust me).

Of course, Chaplin's not the only great character in the movie. Kevin Kline makes a dashing and complex Douglas Fairbanks. I love Doug. I have the above picture in a frame over my desk because they all look so happy and they're all getting along so well. It's a very pleasant moment, even though it's posed. It's like they're about to fall off his shoulders and Doug's the only one who doesn't seem to think that will happen.

Doug in retrospect

He was a larger than life man who couldn't handle things falling apart --- love, his physical shape, the movie business -- and Kline plays him big, but adds the little sad moments, like catching his reflection in the murky bartop and knowing that Laugh and Live is a great name for a book, but not a perfect philosophy in the end.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (2001)
Dir: Chris Columbus
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith

Teens, always trying to get attention

Teen lit is an interesting genre. It's basically the same basic story: Coming-of-age, dealing with adult feelings in child bodies, etc... and the characters usually are special in some way to set them apart from "normal" teenagers: The poor boy gang fighting for humanity and recognition in The Outsiders; Twilight has vampires dealing with teen lust (virgins, blood, repression - you do the math); and Harry Potter has wizards dealing with ... well, oddly enough for a book about starting your adult life, these kids are constantly dealing with death.

I don't think I'd seen this first film since it was in the show and it was interesting to watch it again with the benefit of knowing what goes on later. What gets me about this series is how the emphasis is always on making these characters children. They are constantly referred to as children (especially in The Order of the Phoenix, where it's so constant as to become distracting) and they are treated as children by the single, somewhat sexually stifled members of the Hogwart's teaching staff. But rather than encouraging these children to grow into adult wizards with responsibilities and their special talents focused and controlled, the adults continue to treat them like pawns while reminding them always that they're going to die. Sucks for you, children.

A lot is made of death in the 4th book/film -- I remember when it came out and all the hush talk about which character was going to die and, God! I hope it's not Ron and that kind of thing -- but it came as something of a shock to hear gentle old Dumbledore announce to the students on Day 1 of the first film that students who visit one of the floors of the castle could die. Not detention, but death. Ghosts of the dead roam the school, Voldemort (whose name, not to be mentioned, includes "death") wants to kill Harry, and, of course, a lot revolves around Harry's dead parents and how they died and why.

So why do they keep calling these pre-teens "children," even after their voices change and they come to school in suits? Remember, children, adults make the world a risky place for you (how is it no one has fallen to their death on one of those moving staircases?) so know your place and keep it. It's like Hogwarts is preparing them not to be adult wizards with any kind of power to do anything, but killing their spirits to make them nameless clerks in the muggle civil service --- special and yet not special enough to have responsibility -- and though they fight against this by proving they're capable of saving the world or whatever the story calls for at the time, based on what the other wizards have grown up to be, is there really any hope that they will be any different than those sad, empty wizard professors? If they're special, won't they die like the Potters or Gary Oldman? Or, if not, if they live to be responsible adults, will they be tramping down future pre-teens who walk through the doors of Hogwarts? Makes you wonder.

It's a crazy world these wizards have. By the way, kind of weird that a couple of dentists would allow their daughter to study there, but, meh, muggles are just as crazy as wizards, I guess. So much for specialness.

Li'l Holidays

While I sit here at work listening to my cubicle neighbor play Christmas Classics by the World War II Russian POW Choir, I'm reminded again of what a special and wonderful time of year this is for all God's righteous children.

A time of year when there is only one day when you can give or get a gift. A day or two early or late and the holiday is ruined until next year. Plan accordingly. Spend well. And, remember, loose lips sink gift ships.

A time of year when I don't ever get tired of hearing the words "you people" or "cheap Chinese crap." It's especially nice when the phrases are thrown together: "You people sold me cheap Chinese crap and it won't even get here in time for Christmas!"

A time of year when people think that an office supply company not only does gift wrap, but will wrap a hand sanitizer dispenser for their fiancee to open on that magical Christmas morn'. (Whoops, we had to tell you it would a few days late and he heard the voicemail message? And now you're refusing delivery because there's no surprise? "You people" ruin another holiday.)

A time of year when I drink too much, eat too much and sleep way the hell too much, but will wake in bliss deep into the Winter of our Discontent.

Happy Holidays, my children ... all are welcome ... all are welcome ...

Good Times

Just to update -- I don't have swine flu. It was a steroid rush. No wonder I felt like Hunter S. Thompson.

Buckaroo Medicine - Natural Healing

Friday I broke a blood vessel in my eye. You know in Alien 3 when Sigourney Weaver first lands on the prison planet/ship with the entire catalog of male character types from UK Actor's Equity? It looked like that. This constitutes "strange bleeding" to me, so I call the blood guy and he gives me a prescription for steroids -- 10 a day for 4 days -- to up my platelet count to heal the thing. It would heal on its own, but in normal people this means a couple of days. In me it would mean a couple of weeks of monster eye.

No big. 4 days. I can do it. So I start taking them, go out Saturday to finish shipping stuff off and take care of an embarassing error with a security tag at Fred Meyer (I didn't know it was still on there when we walked out the door -- Why didn't anyone stop us?) and Sunday I wake up feverish with this weird sunburn rash on my face and neck. What the? This isn't on the list of side effects! Where's my steroid euphoria??

Turns out steroids kill your immune system, which means you can catch just about anything floating around out there. Yeah, isn't that great? Even the hyped swine flu or whatever the hell else people are breathing on you -- touch it and it's yours. So I filled up on soup, tomato juice and brussel sprouts, and things are coming around today, although I'm still a little out of body balance. Stupit pills.

Although, honestly, the real healing came from watching Zanjeer (1973) yesterday.

Oh Amitabh ... is there anything he can't do?

600

Raarrrrrrrrrrrrr --- sorry, trying to do my double 300 battle cry, but I don't think it comes across well in text. This is post #600. Hooray for the internet.

I don't have anything special planned for this post, so there's no big deal really. We didn't watch a lot of movies this weekend because I was mostly sleeping, shopping or watching Quincy, M.E., Flight of the Conchords, and The Office. I'd review television, but there's only so much you can do in 30 or 60 minutes. It's a punchy sort of medium.

By the way, I've never actually seen 300. But I've seen United 300. Isn't it the same thing? (the ad at the bottom goes away with a click on the little x in the corner -- it doesn't come back)

A Movie Nearly Every Night: Partners

Partners (1982)
Dir: James Burrows
Starring: Ryan O'Neal, John Hurt, Kenneth McMillan

Benson (Ryan O'Neal) and Kerwin (John Hurt) are ... well ... partners

My mom and I love this movie, but it's been years since I'd seen it. We caught some of A Man For All Seasons on Turner last week and the cousin/roommate remarked on how young John Hurt was in it. I've been a huge fan of John Hurt since I was a kid. There's something both trusting and sinister about him -- like you'd want to hang out with him because he'd know how to steal cigarettes from the corner store. But it's mostly because he's not afraid of any kind of acting: alien coming out of his chest, licking a woman's face, sleeping with his sister (and cutting the baby out to eat it like a god) or being the Elephant Man. Stuff other people won't do he'll not only do it, he'll master it.

You can guess the story without too much trouble: Ryan O'Neal is Benson, a macho cop who gets partnered with fey records clerk Fred Kerwin to go undercover to solve a homosexual murder. The premise is somewhat silly and offensive, but, honestly, the movie walks a really fine line that keeps it from being as silly and offensive as it could have been, and I think a lot of the credit goes to John Hurt and, yeah, I'll say it, Ryan O'Neal. He's good in this. I don't normally like him, but I he makes Benson a decent guy.

It's a comedy, so there are some moments of obvious stereotype, but just when they get close to caricature (Kerwin keeps house; Benson oggles breasty women) it backs off just enough to keep the characters real. There's no great and sudden transition from macho jerk to sensitive understanding male. Ryan O'Neal's Benson is uncomfortable with his job, but he does it with a minimum of bitching. I'll say it again, he's a decent guy, and he's usually very careful around John Hurt's gay Officer Kerwin, who is equally uncomfortable with the job. Kerwin knows he's being "promoted" not because he's a good cop but because of his sexuality, and it bothers him just as it bothers Benson to wear leather, and yet both settle in with only a few moments of awkward silliness.

potentially awkward silliness, but handled with a minimum of idiocy. No, really.

It helps that during the silly moments that there is no goofy incidental music to send it over the top. As Ryan O'Neal walks past a line of people (coincidentally waiting to see La Cage Aux Folles, written by Francis Veber who also wrote Partners) there's no dopey "wah wah wahhhhh" music to echo his steps. This keeps Benson from coming across as a jerk or asking us to sympathize with his discomfort, because in the end he's a cop doing a job and that's how he plays it. We can laugh at him or not, but that's entirely up to us. There's nothing forcing the laugh, which is interesting considering this was directed by James Burrows, the sitcom king. (Although not entirely surprising since James Burrows also directed the best episode of News Radio "Smoking.")

The story doesn't shy away from showing the cops as homophobic louts either. Benson and Kerwin only investigate one case, but it turns out that there have been a number of murders that the police have ignored because the victims were gay. There's also a scene in jail that shows Benson what it's like to be on the other side of his fellow officers (and why Kerwin has kept in the closet) and it's not played for laughs. Balance that against Kerwin having a queen moment at a stake out, and you have a somewhat steady picture.

So, comedy, yes, but offensive? I'd argue no, not so much, or there's enough on each side to keep things even. It's an interesting movie played by interesting actors. With anyone else, it would be complete disaster, no doubt about it.