(10/8/00)
The Company of Wolves is both a haunting fim and an exasperating one. Inspired by the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, it has lots of interesting images and ideas--yet I really don't know what to make of it.
It begins with a mother (and father?) coming home from shopping. They live in a fancy house and have two daughters. There is going to be a party. They tell one daughter to fetch the other. It is obvious that the girl doesn't like her sister. When she goes to the sister's room and knocks on the door the sister doesn't answer. She is asleep and can't rouse herself.
An interesting opening--but it is never developed. The rest of the film--or almost so--is the girl's dream. We never come back to the family situation or learn what has knocked her out so that she can't get up or even answer her sister.
In the dream the girl, Rosaleen, stays with her granny in the woods after her sister is buried. The sister had been attacked by wolves, prompting Granny to tell Rosaleen a story about the worst kind of wolf, the one who is "hairy on the inside" and who will drag you down to hell. And so we see a story about a girl who marries a man who goes out to pee and disappears. He returns years later, after she has remarried, and turns into a wolf right in front of her eyes. The transformation scene, repeated later in the film, is shocking and grusome, but at the same time seems rather tacky. The man pulls his face off, revealing just a mass of something, until a wolf's head emerges from that.
Granny is a bit sinister, especially when she asks for a kiss.
The human and the wolf-like intersect several times in this film, as if to hit us over the head with the idea that the wolf that terrorized Little Red Riding Hood was a metaphor for the beast that lurks in human beings, or for his/her animal desires. Granny sees the wolf as strictly masculine, but Rosaleen tells a story about a wolf that is wounded and turns into a naked girl, speechless and frightened. Or, as Rosaleen's mother points out, "If there is a beast in man it meets its match in woman, too."
The wood is dangerous if you stray from "the path." This path obviously refers to conforming to the expectations and demands of society, especially in regard to sexual matters. However, there is really no way to keep the world at bay, as Rosaleen discovers when she meets an elegant young werewolf on the way to Granny's house. The confrontation of Rosaleen and this chap at Granny's is the most powerful scene in the whole film. She shoots him, but is filled with remorse. And she becomes a wolf and goes off with him. This actually surprised me as he had just killed her Granny, but then a lot of things in this film are surprising. Perhaps she can accept it since it was done out of survival. (Or was it? I mean, nobody actually forced him to come over to Granny's place.)
Another example of the tacky, grusome special effects: Granny's head comes off and goes flying across the room.
I don't know what to make of the boy who likes Rosaleen and wants her to go walking with him. I don't get any sense of how she really feels about him. She doesn't show much interest in him and eventually runs away. I think she just likes playing with him. I didn'tthink there was any reason for her to refuse his offer to accompany her to Granny's because ofwhat he did lasttime. He didn't do anything bad--although, of course, he might have if she hadn't run away. But he seemed OK to me; I don't think he would have tried to rape her or anything.
Rosaleen climbs a tree and finds a nest with eggs in it. The eggs open and inside are little human figures--like embryos. She takes onw ith her and when sh shows it to her mother it sheds a tear.
The film abounds with images of animals. I don't know what to say about that.
The color is very muted. I thought at first thatthe print was faded, but I'm pretty sure that it was made that way. Rosaleen looks enchanting in that red cloak, set against the green forest.
Sarah Paterson has quite a presence as Rosaleen. She has a confidence and a knowingness that enhances her budding sexuality.
This film is interesting and entertaining, but confusing and bewildering. I don't know what to make of it all, but I enjoyed watching it.
Friday, June 11, 2010
JFK. 1991. Directed by Oliver Stone.
(10/6/00-10/8/00)
The Kennedy assassination was a major event in American history and American mythology. It was a mysterious event--no one knows what really happened. It smacks of a conspiracy--even the government admitted this in later years--and a cover-up which was largely successful. Most people don't believe the official explanation, but nobody knows what really happened. The event has developed a fascination for the American public and a hold on its imagination. It is thus an irresistable subject for a film. Oliver Stone accepted the challenge.
The result is a lot more compelling than Nixon. One of the reasons for this is simply that JFK himself was a more glamorous and charismatic figure than Nixon. His administration was a time of hope, a hope that was cruellyshattered in November 1963. This glamour-boy was president for less than three years--people didn't have a chance to get bored with him. And they don't have a chance to get bored with him in the movie because he only appears fora few minutes at the beginning. JFK is a film about his absence, not about his presence.
Yet, there is a main character--Jim Garrison. Garison was the New Orleans D.A. who brought one person to trial for being a part of the conspiracy. Kevin Costner plays Garrison in a low-key style. He is earnest and dignified. It's the story of a man fighting a corrupt system. It's reminiscent of Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but with a difference. Mr. Smith won. Garrison didn't, but subsequent events have vindicated him to the extent that it was admitted that Clay Shaw did work for the CIA and the government found probable cause to believe that there was a conspiracy in the Kennedy assassination. But Garrison's struggle is not a simple, unequivocal triumph.
Oliver Stone is not an idealist like Capra. His story of a man against the system is a more realistic and mature one. Garrison wins simply by having brought the case to trial, by making the information he collected available, by discrediting the Warren Commision report and by the subsequent vindications already mentioned. His accomplishment was not small, but it wasn't as simple and neat as in the Capra film.
The climax of JFK is the trial in which Garrison presents the information he has uncovered and then addresses the jury about its duty to seek out the truth. It is a fine scene, but it is not quite believable when Garrison accuses Lyndon Johnson of being an accomplice in the Kennedy assassination. Even if that were true, Garrison would have known better than to say that out loud to a jury. Yet, the speech wasn't written for a jury; it was written for the audience and Stone isn't going to worry about a trifling detail like that.
Stone presents a whole theory as to how and why JFK was killed. He was killed because he was going to end the Vietnam war. This was not acceptable to those who were profiting by the war. The assassination was engineered by the CIA, presumably with Johnson's blessing. A lot of it is speculation, but it's a convincing explanation.
Other people can and have debated just how likely all this is, but to myself and others sitting in that theater it comes across as a convincing explanation. It satisfies something.
(But it does make me wonder. If the American economy depended so much on war, then how is Clinton able to get away with cutting as much from the defense budget as he has? He's survived two terms.)
Garrison meets with a man who will not give his name--just X. "X" is played by Donald Sutherland in a haunting scene which takes place in Washington. He talks about "black ops"--how American intelligence interfered in foreign politics. The Kennedy assassination was a "black op" done at home. Morrison is incredulous at his account and says that he doesn't believe him. It's the same kind of disillusionment that Jefferson Smith had to undergo.
The scene with X is marred by music on the soundtrack which makes it hard to hear what he is saying. And X's hope that if Garrison can get a conviction it will cause a chain reaction and the whole thing will crack open seems a little naive.
Except for a few scenes the whole film seems to be saturated with the color brown. It is a sober color for what is basically a sober film. There is a lot of black-and-white footage, too, as is common with Stone in the 90's, but here black-and-white is used for flashbacks, emphasizing that what we are looking at is taking place in the past.
The Kennedy assassination was a major event in American history and American mythology. It was a mysterious event--no one knows what really happened. It smacks of a conspiracy--even the government admitted this in later years--and a cover-up which was largely successful. Most people don't believe the official explanation, but nobody knows what really happened. The event has developed a fascination for the American public and a hold on its imagination. It is thus an irresistable subject for a film. Oliver Stone accepted the challenge.
The result is a lot more compelling than Nixon. One of the reasons for this is simply that JFK himself was a more glamorous and charismatic figure than Nixon. His administration was a time of hope, a hope that was cruellyshattered in November 1963. This glamour-boy was president for less than three years--people didn't have a chance to get bored with him. And they don't have a chance to get bored with him in the movie because he only appears fora few minutes at the beginning. JFK is a film about his absence, not about his presence.
Yet, there is a main character--Jim Garrison. Garison was the New Orleans D.A. who brought one person to trial for being a part of the conspiracy. Kevin Costner plays Garrison in a low-key style. He is earnest and dignified. It's the story of a man fighting a corrupt system. It's reminiscent of Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, but with a difference. Mr. Smith won. Garrison didn't, but subsequent events have vindicated him to the extent that it was admitted that Clay Shaw did work for the CIA and the government found probable cause to believe that there was a conspiracy in the Kennedy assassination. But Garrison's struggle is not a simple, unequivocal triumph.
Oliver Stone is not an idealist like Capra. His story of a man against the system is a more realistic and mature one. Garrison wins simply by having brought the case to trial, by making the information he collected available, by discrediting the Warren Commision report and by the subsequent vindications already mentioned. His accomplishment was not small, but it wasn't as simple and neat as in the Capra film.
The climax of JFK is the trial in which Garrison presents the information he has uncovered and then addresses the jury about its duty to seek out the truth. It is a fine scene, but it is not quite believable when Garrison accuses Lyndon Johnson of being an accomplice in the Kennedy assassination. Even if that were true, Garrison would have known better than to say that out loud to a jury. Yet, the speech wasn't written for a jury; it was written for the audience and Stone isn't going to worry about a trifling detail like that.
Stone presents a whole theory as to how and why JFK was killed. He was killed because he was going to end the Vietnam war. This was not acceptable to those who were profiting by the war. The assassination was engineered by the CIA, presumably with Johnson's blessing. A lot of it is speculation, but it's a convincing explanation.
Other people can and have debated just how likely all this is, but to myself and others sitting in that theater it comes across as a convincing explanation. It satisfies something.
(But it does make me wonder. If the American economy depended so much on war, then how is Clinton able to get away with cutting as much from the defense budget as he has? He's survived two terms.)
Garrison meets with a man who will not give his name--just X. "X" is played by Donald Sutherland in a haunting scene which takes place in Washington. He talks about "black ops"--how American intelligence interfered in foreign politics. The Kennedy assassination was a "black op" done at home. Morrison is incredulous at his account and says that he doesn't believe him. It's the same kind of disillusionment that Jefferson Smith had to undergo.
The scene with X is marred by music on the soundtrack which makes it hard to hear what he is saying. And X's hope that if Garrison can get a conviction it will cause a chain reaction and the whole thing will crack open seems a little naive.
Except for a few scenes the whole film seems to be saturated with the color brown. It is a sober color for what is basically a sober film. There is a lot of black-and-white footage, too, as is common with Stone in the 90's, but here black-and-white is used for flashbacks, emphasizing that what we are looking at is taking place in the past.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Fail-Safe. 1964. Directed by Sidney Lumet.
(10/5/00)
Fail-Safe is a chilling thing to watch even now. One can only imagine what it would have felt like to sit through it in 1964. That was around the time when America was terrified of the Russians and we were stocking bomb shelters in our basements. My immediate reaction is to think that Fail-Safe might actually be more effective than Dr. Strangelove, the latter's greater popularity notwithstanding. Strangelove plays nuclear war for laughs, thereby making it less threatening. The plot is so unabashedly unbelievable that it seems to have an underlying message of: "Not to worry."
Fail-Safe takes the opposite approach. It aims to be believable and really scare its audience with the possibility of what just could happen. It describes a situation where a series of accidents send American missiles to bomb Moscow. And to prove that this really was an accident, that America didn't mean it and is sorry about it, the American president, played by Henry Fonda, has American planes bomb New York City. That is pretty unbelievable itself, but it is made believable enough.
Who, in 1964, could have played the American president with as much dignity and authority as Henry Fonda? The only name that comes to mind is Gregory Peck. Fonda is just right as the anguished commander-in-chief who bears the fate of the world on his shoulders.
The one disappointing moment to do with Fonda's president is when he lectures the Russian chairman over the phone about how the two of them are responsible for this catastrophe. He speaks like an authority figure, almost talking down to the Russian head of state and that scene really didn't come off.
I did like the fact that we only see the crisis from the American side. We never see the Russians who are engaged in desperate attempts to prevent the crisis. They are the unknown, the other. We don't see them so it is hard to trust them and to work together with them. Bonds do form as the countries work together, but they are difficult and tentative. And since we see it all from one side only we have no choice but to identify with the Americans.
Walter Matthau is eerily memorable as "The Professor," a war-monger advisor (I guess) to the military who sees the catastrophic accident as a stroke of good fortune, our chance to really wipe out the Soviet Union. This man, coldly logical and calculating, espouses values that are anti-human and anti-life. What's scary is that his words are so logical and persuasive; what is even scarier is the thought that such men are in positions of power and influence. Matthau's character disturbs and frightens me more than Dr. Strangelove who is a caricature.
The film as a whole has the look of an old-fashioned television drama I might have caught late at night many years ago. The black-and-white photography is perfectly suited to its tense, claustrophobic atmosphere, especially in the bare room in which the president talks to the Russian chairman. I thought the first part of the film was hard to get interested in because of all the technical details, but as it went on I found it absorbing.
I was especially moved when the president tried to talk to the pilots of the planes with the missles and order them to return. His efforts were futile because they were specifically instructed to reject those orders which might have been counterfeit. The pilots refuse to listen and carry out their mission, even when told by the president himself that it has been a ghastly mistake.
At the end of the film there is a statement on behalf of the Amjerican military saying that there are safeguards in place in our missle system which assure that the events portrayed in this film could never come to pass. The audience laughed at this as I'm sure they did in 1964 and as I'm sure they were intended to. Yet, it is 36 years later and nothing like this has ever happened. Time has certainly added perspective, yet Fail-Safe is still a very effective drama of technology going awry.
Fail-Safe is a chilling thing to watch even now. One can only imagine what it would have felt like to sit through it in 1964. That was around the time when America was terrified of the Russians and we were stocking bomb shelters in our basements. My immediate reaction is to think that Fail-Safe might actually be more effective than Dr. Strangelove, the latter's greater popularity notwithstanding. Strangelove plays nuclear war for laughs, thereby making it less threatening. The plot is so unabashedly unbelievable that it seems to have an underlying message of: "Not to worry."
Fail-Safe takes the opposite approach. It aims to be believable and really scare its audience with the possibility of what just could happen. It describes a situation where a series of accidents send American missiles to bomb Moscow. And to prove that this really was an accident, that America didn't mean it and is sorry about it, the American president, played by Henry Fonda, has American planes bomb New York City. That is pretty unbelievable itself, but it is made believable enough.
Who, in 1964, could have played the American president with as much dignity and authority as Henry Fonda? The only name that comes to mind is Gregory Peck. Fonda is just right as the anguished commander-in-chief who bears the fate of the world on his shoulders.
The one disappointing moment to do with Fonda's president is when he lectures the Russian chairman over the phone about how the two of them are responsible for this catastrophe. He speaks like an authority figure, almost talking down to the Russian head of state and that scene really didn't come off.
I did like the fact that we only see the crisis from the American side. We never see the Russians who are engaged in desperate attempts to prevent the crisis. They are the unknown, the other. We don't see them so it is hard to trust them and to work together with them. Bonds do form as the countries work together, but they are difficult and tentative. And since we see it all from one side only we have no choice but to identify with the Americans.
Walter Matthau is eerily memorable as "The Professor," a war-monger advisor (I guess) to the military who sees the catastrophic accident as a stroke of good fortune, our chance to really wipe out the Soviet Union. This man, coldly logical and calculating, espouses values that are anti-human and anti-life. What's scary is that his words are so logical and persuasive; what is even scarier is the thought that such men are in positions of power and influence. Matthau's character disturbs and frightens me more than Dr. Strangelove who is a caricature.
The film as a whole has the look of an old-fashioned television drama I might have caught late at night many years ago. The black-and-white photography is perfectly suited to its tense, claustrophobic atmosphere, especially in the bare room in which the president talks to the Russian chairman. I thought the first part of the film was hard to get interested in because of all the technical details, but as it went on I found it absorbing.
I was especially moved when the president tried to talk to the pilots of the planes with the missles and order them to return. His efforts were futile because they were specifically instructed to reject those orders which might have been counterfeit. The pilots refuse to listen and carry out their mission, even when told by the president himself that it has been a ghastly mistake.
At the end of the film there is a statement on behalf of the Amjerican military saying that there are safeguards in place in our missle system which assure that the events portrayed in this film could never come to pass. The audience laughed at this as I'm sure they did in 1964 and as I'm sure they were intended to. Yet, it is 36 years later and nothing like this has ever happened. Time has certainly added perspective, yet Fail-Safe is still a very effective drama of technology going awry.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Shame (Skammen). 1968. Directed by Ingmar Bergman.
(10/2/00-10/5/00)
It seems a pity that Ingmar Bergman felt the need to work in color. There is such a richness to his work in black-and-white. That was due in no small measure to the contribution of cinematographer Sven Nykvist. I believe that Shame was Bergman's last major black-and-white film. The images--especially the exteriors--are exquisite, like fine etchings or engravings. Bergman didn't need color and I think that it actually intruded on his special style.
Although Shame is about war it doesn't have much urgency about it for most of its running time. It just seems like a slice-of-life of people living under tense conditions. It is enjoyable for capturing the look and feel of its time. It really brought back the late 60s and early 70s for me, both by vividly evoking the ambience of that time and also by being a classic example of the kind of film that we considered important and artistic in those days.
So the film's pleasures are the beautiful black-and-white cinematography, a waulity of nostalgia, and the expressive face of Liv Ullman. We also have the pleasure of contrasting the characters of Jan and Eva Rosenberg, two violinists. Jan is played by Max von Sydow.
The contrast is made plain when a plane crashes and a man falls into the trees, possibly hurt. Eva wants to go and help him, but Jan holds her back, mindful of the potential danger to themselves. Eva comes across as the healthier one, the stronger one, able to come from a space of compassion and life whilst Jan falls victim to fear and the self-absorption it breeds. I think Bergman stacks the deck a little; as Eva is young and female she more easily represents the good, the human, the kind. This is a kind of prejudice that the director panders to. At least, that's how I see it.
The film becomes more interesting when Jan and Eva are captured and taken to a military headquarters. It is a frightening ordeal, but what is interesting is that it takes place in such an ordinary, bland setting. And this is truly what happens in times of violent disruption--the familiar environment turns nightmarish.
Jan and Eva are accused of being collaborators. Eva is shown a tape of a TV interview in which she denounces the government and hopes for a revolution. (I am not sure of the details of what she says.) Eva says that the interview is a forgery--it has been doctored. Is that the truth or is she just saying it to save her skin? It is left ambiguous.
A friend, Colonel Jacobi, manages to get them released. He says that the interview has obviously been faked. Is he lying--using his influence to save his friends? This is what happens in time of war.
Jacobi continues to befriend the Rosenbergs and visits them often. Eva is unhappy about this; I think the reason is that it will look bad if the other side were to come into power. I forget a lot of what happens, but I think she actually asks him to not hang around so much.
Jacobi wants to do more than hang around; he wants to sleep with Eva. He offers her what I believe he says is his life savings--2,300 [I forget the currency]. And she agrees although she has never before been unfaithful to her husband. This is truly poignant, sad and pathetic--watching this kindly old man offer his savings to sleep with Eva. I think it is degrading to both of them. Jacobi, I think, already showed us what a lonely man he was. Asking Eva to do that, even if in exchange for money which would be a great help to them, seems like a betrayal.
Again, this is the kind of thing that can happen in a war situation. People let down their inner barriers, desires not normally acted upon come to the surface. In short, people say and do things that they wouldn't under more normal circumstances.
What follows is harrowing. Jan finds the money and figures out what has happened. The other side suddenly comes into power and Jacobi is captured. He comes back under guard and asks if he can borrow the money that he gave Eva. His captors need money and will let him go for it. Jan claims that he hasn't seen any money. In other words, he is willing to let this man who protected him and his wife and treated them with kindness be shot, possibly out of revenge for the man's having slept with his wife. It is sickening.
Jan pays for his refusal to turn over the money. The men who have Jacobi search his house and demolish it. I forget exactly what happens; they possibly force Jan to shoot him. Whatever happens, it is a wrenching scene. And Jan rationalizes it by saying that they would have shot him anyway. Maybe they would have, but it still comes across as rationalization.
At the end of the film, Jan and Eva use the dead man's money to gain passage on a boat taking them away. The film ends with the boat out in the water. The scene reminds me very much of Max Beckmann's The Departure. It is a haunting voyage into the unknown. A man lowers himself over the side of the boat presumably to drown, they row through a mass of dead bodies. All of this is rendered in exquisite black-and-white photography.
The film ends with Eva describing a dream she has had. She describes a beautiful setting with a beautiful tree or plants or rosebushes. A warplane crashes or flies by and sets the rosebushes on fire. It would have been horrible if it hadn't been so beautiful.
I would definitely like to see this one again.
It seems a pity that Ingmar Bergman felt the need to work in color. There is such a richness to his work in black-and-white. That was due in no small measure to the contribution of cinematographer Sven Nykvist. I believe that Shame was Bergman's last major black-and-white film. The images--especially the exteriors--are exquisite, like fine etchings or engravings. Bergman didn't need color and I think that it actually intruded on his special style.
Although Shame is about war it doesn't have much urgency about it for most of its running time. It just seems like a slice-of-life of people living under tense conditions. It is enjoyable for capturing the look and feel of its time. It really brought back the late 60s and early 70s for me, both by vividly evoking the ambience of that time and also by being a classic example of the kind of film that we considered important and artistic in those days.
So the film's pleasures are the beautiful black-and-white cinematography, a waulity of nostalgia, and the expressive face of Liv Ullman. We also have the pleasure of contrasting the characters of Jan and Eva Rosenberg, two violinists. Jan is played by Max von Sydow.
The contrast is made plain when a plane crashes and a man falls into the trees, possibly hurt. Eva wants to go and help him, but Jan holds her back, mindful of the potential danger to themselves. Eva comes across as the healthier one, the stronger one, able to come from a space of compassion and life whilst Jan falls victim to fear and the self-absorption it breeds. I think Bergman stacks the deck a little; as Eva is young and female she more easily represents the good, the human, the kind. This is a kind of prejudice that the director panders to. At least, that's how I see it.
The film becomes more interesting when Jan and Eva are captured and taken to a military headquarters. It is a frightening ordeal, but what is interesting is that it takes place in such an ordinary, bland setting. And this is truly what happens in times of violent disruption--the familiar environment turns nightmarish.
Jan and Eva are accused of being collaborators. Eva is shown a tape of a TV interview in which she denounces the government and hopes for a revolution. (I am not sure of the details of what she says.) Eva says that the interview is a forgery--it has been doctored. Is that the truth or is she just saying it to save her skin? It is left ambiguous.
A friend, Colonel Jacobi, manages to get them released. He says that the interview has obviously been faked. Is he lying--using his influence to save his friends? This is what happens in time of war.
Jacobi continues to befriend the Rosenbergs and visits them often. Eva is unhappy about this; I think the reason is that it will look bad if the other side were to come into power. I forget a lot of what happens, but I think she actually asks him to not hang around so much.
Jacobi wants to do more than hang around; he wants to sleep with Eva. He offers her what I believe he says is his life savings--2,300 [I forget the currency]. And she agrees although she has never before been unfaithful to her husband. This is truly poignant, sad and pathetic--watching this kindly old man offer his savings to sleep with Eva. I think it is degrading to both of them. Jacobi, I think, already showed us what a lonely man he was. Asking Eva to do that, even if in exchange for money which would be a great help to them, seems like a betrayal.
Again, this is the kind of thing that can happen in a war situation. People let down their inner barriers, desires not normally acted upon come to the surface. In short, people say and do things that they wouldn't under more normal circumstances.
What follows is harrowing. Jan finds the money and figures out what has happened. The other side suddenly comes into power and Jacobi is captured. He comes back under guard and asks if he can borrow the money that he gave Eva. His captors need money and will let him go for it. Jan claims that he hasn't seen any money. In other words, he is willing to let this man who protected him and his wife and treated them with kindness be shot, possibly out of revenge for the man's having slept with his wife. It is sickening.
Jan pays for his refusal to turn over the money. The men who have Jacobi search his house and demolish it. I forget exactly what happens; they possibly force Jan to shoot him. Whatever happens, it is a wrenching scene. And Jan rationalizes it by saying that they would have shot him anyway. Maybe they would have, but it still comes across as rationalization.
At the end of the film, Jan and Eva use the dead man's money to gain passage on a boat taking them away. The film ends with the boat out in the water. The scene reminds me very much of Max Beckmann's The Departure. It is a haunting voyage into the unknown. A man lowers himself over the side of the boat presumably to drown, they row through a mass of dead bodies. All of this is rendered in exquisite black-and-white photography.
The film ends with Eva describing a dream she has had. She describes a beautiful setting with a beautiful tree or plants or rosebushes. A warplane crashes or flies by and sets the rosebushes on fire. It would have been horrible if it hadn't been so beautiful.
I would definitely like to see this one again.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Natural Born Killers. 1994. Directed by Oliver Stone.
(9/26/00)
As satire, it doesn't work. Not for me, anyway. Bloody mass murder is too horrible to poke fun at. It is true that the media exploits violence for ratings. It is true that the ideal families portrayed in TV sitcoms are--to a greater or lesser degree--a myth. But it's not funny and Rodney Dangerfield doesn't make it so.
Possibly, what undermines Natural Born Killers as satiore is that the violence and the menace is just too effective, too powerful. I remember that when I saw it in 1994 images and moments from the film stayed with me for a long time. I get the feeling that Oliver Stone was unaware of the sheer power of his images. It didn't have that much impact on me the second time around.
It is a web of editing and special effects which effectively give the film a hallucinatory quality. Images are projected onto the mirrors of motel rooms; Mickey and Mallory ride in a car in color while the rear-projection footage is in black-and-white. As in some of Stone's other films there is a mixing of black-and-white and colorfootage. The resulting film is agitated.
Once again, sex is linked with violence and death. I think the most unpleasant and frightening moment in this regard is Mallory's shooting of law officer Scagnetti who has just been starting to get physical with her. She says, "Do you still like me?" just before she pulls the trigger.
All of this killing seems to be linked with a desire for self-destruction. Mallory talks about being in the sky with the stars. The idea I get from this is that she wants to die so that she can be in a space in which she no longer has to fear violence and death.
Mickey and Mallory both wax poetic at one time or another. And when Mickey is interviewed for a special edition of American Maniacs he comes across as wise, relaxed, at peace with himself. He accepts himself as what he is--a killer. That scene really frightens me.
One episode that had an impact on me in 1994 was the scene with the Indian. The Indian doesn't speak English and we see his words to his son as subtitles. He sees a demon in Mickey, but says that Mallory has the "sad sickness." He turns to help her by doing some sort of ritual and Mickey kills him. Mallory is very upset by this. She pounds at Mickey, calling him "bad" and saying, "He took us in--he fed us."
That's probably the most moving scene in the whole film. Mallory still has what we normally take as "human values" and can respond to genuine kindness. We keep seeing images of a demon associated with Mickey, so perhaps there is truth in what the Indian says and that good and evil fought over Mallory's soul, with good losing. Maybe not, though, since Mickey tells the interviewer that Mallory taught him to love and "only love can saly the demon." But--and I think this is important--it sounds like a glib cliche when he says it.
But I like the Indian's description of Mallory as having the "sad sickness." When his son asks if she can be helped he replies, "Some people don't want to be helped."
And I don't know what to make of that crazy ending in which Mickey and Mallory escape, leave a video to complete their legend, and go on their way to live some semblance of a normal life. Perhaps it was intended as one last sick joke, but it ain't funny. But this film certainly does succeed at being disturbing.
(9/28/00-10/2/00)
A couple of more thoughts about Natural Born Killers:
I think one moment which works very well is when, towards the end, we watch images from a television set. As the stations are changed we see images of current events which clearly demonstrate America's fascination with violence: Tonya Harding, O. J. Simpson, I didn'trecognize the others, although one might be Lorena Bobbitt. There is also a memorable scene in which a police officer roughs up a prostitute he has picked up, again linking sex with violence and also showing us the dark side of one of our authority figures. At least he's experiencing this side with a professional.
Then there is the character of the tele-journalist, played by Robert Downey, Jr. I don't know what to make of tyhis character, except that he seems to be caught up in the sheer energy of the media frenzy. At the end, during the riot, he seems to go over the edge and wants to be a murderer himself--or is this just a ruse to save his skin? Mickey tells him that he's a scumbag, that all he cares about is ratings. This sort of implies that Mickey is somehow superior because, even though he's a killer, he's "pure" about it. But it is hypocrisy because Mickey is concerned with publicity and image himself. He's very interested in how the show about him on American Maniacs did in the ratings compared with those on other killers. And he always--almost always--leaves someone alive at the scene ofthe crime to "tell the tale."
Another interesting character is Jack Scagnetti, law enforcement officer and media darling. I couldn't hear most of his dialogue in the prison, but there seems to be a plot in which he is to accompany Mickey and Mallory as they are being moved from one institution to another and make sure that they are eliminated en route. This shows a shameful disregard for due process of law--yet it seems to be the right thing to do. Perhaps this is Stone's way of implicating the audience.
The film actually does touch on important philosophical questions, especially in Mickey's interview when he points out that killing saturates the natural world, that creatures and people are carrying out a part in a design that they know nothing about. These are the kinds of questions one expects to find in an Ingmar Bergman film. Here, they are presented in a pop context.
As satire, it doesn't work. Not for me, anyway. Bloody mass murder is too horrible to poke fun at. It is true that the media exploits violence for ratings. It is true that the ideal families portrayed in TV sitcoms are--to a greater or lesser degree--a myth. But it's not funny and Rodney Dangerfield doesn't make it so.
Possibly, what undermines Natural Born Killers as satiore is that the violence and the menace is just too effective, too powerful. I remember that when I saw it in 1994 images and moments from the film stayed with me for a long time. I get the feeling that Oliver Stone was unaware of the sheer power of his images. It didn't have that much impact on me the second time around.
It is a web of editing and special effects which effectively give the film a hallucinatory quality. Images are projected onto the mirrors of motel rooms; Mickey and Mallory ride in a car in color while the rear-projection footage is in black-and-white. As in some of Stone's other films there is a mixing of black-and-white and colorfootage. The resulting film is agitated.
Once again, sex is linked with violence and death. I think the most unpleasant and frightening moment in this regard is Mallory's shooting of law officer Scagnetti who has just been starting to get physical with her. She says, "Do you still like me?" just before she pulls the trigger.
All of this killing seems to be linked with a desire for self-destruction. Mallory talks about being in the sky with the stars. The idea I get from this is that she wants to die so that she can be in a space in which she no longer has to fear violence and death.
Mickey and Mallory both wax poetic at one time or another. And when Mickey is interviewed for a special edition of American Maniacs he comes across as wise, relaxed, at peace with himself. He accepts himself as what he is--a killer. That scene really frightens me.
One episode that had an impact on me in 1994 was the scene with the Indian. The Indian doesn't speak English and we see his words to his son as subtitles. He sees a demon in Mickey, but says that Mallory has the "sad sickness." He turns to help her by doing some sort of ritual and Mickey kills him. Mallory is very upset by this. She pounds at Mickey, calling him "bad" and saying, "He took us in--he fed us."
That's probably the most moving scene in the whole film. Mallory still has what we normally take as "human values" and can respond to genuine kindness. We keep seeing images of a demon associated with Mickey, so perhaps there is truth in what the Indian says and that good and evil fought over Mallory's soul, with good losing. Maybe not, though, since Mickey tells the interviewer that Mallory taught him to love and "only love can saly the demon." But--and I think this is important--it sounds like a glib cliche when he says it.
But I like the Indian's description of Mallory as having the "sad sickness." When his son asks if she can be helped he replies, "Some people don't want to be helped."
And I don't know what to make of that crazy ending in which Mickey and Mallory escape, leave a video to complete their legend, and go on their way to live some semblance of a normal life. Perhaps it was intended as one last sick joke, but it ain't funny. But this film certainly does succeed at being disturbing.
(9/28/00-10/2/00)
A couple of more thoughts about Natural Born Killers:
I think one moment which works very well is when, towards the end, we watch images from a television set. As the stations are changed we see images of current events which clearly demonstrate America's fascination with violence: Tonya Harding, O. J. Simpson, I didn'trecognize the others, although one might be Lorena Bobbitt. There is also a memorable scene in which a police officer roughs up a prostitute he has picked up, again linking sex with violence and also showing us the dark side of one of our authority figures. At least he's experiencing this side with a professional.
Then there is the character of the tele-journalist, played by Robert Downey, Jr. I don't know what to make of tyhis character, except that he seems to be caught up in the sheer energy of the media frenzy. At the end, during the riot, he seems to go over the edge and wants to be a murderer himself--or is this just a ruse to save his skin? Mickey tells him that he's a scumbag, that all he cares about is ratings. This sort of implies that Mickey is somehow superior because, even though he's a killer, he's "pure" about it. But it is hypocrisy because Mickey is concerned with publicity and image himself. He's very interested in how the show about him on American Maniacs did in the ratings compared with those on other killers. And he always--almost always--leaves someone alive at the scene ofthe crime to "tell the tale."
Another interesting character is Jack Scagnetti, law enforcement officer and media darling. I couldn't hear most of his dialogue in the prison, but there seems to be a plot in which he is to accompany Mickey and Mallory as they are being moved from one institution to another and make sure that they are eliminated en route. This shows a shameful disregard for due process of law--yet it seems to be the right thing to do. Perhaps this is Stone's way of implicating the audience.
The film actually does touch on important philosophical questions, especially in Mickey's interview when he points out that killing saturates the natural world, that creatures and people are carrying out a part in a design that they know nothing about. These are the kinds of questions one expects to find in an Ingmar Bergman film. Here, they are presented in a pop context.
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