4/19/15: The Game of Life

Tags

2014 Academy Awards, 87th Annual Academy Awards, Alan Turing, Alex Lawther, Alexandre Desplat, Allen Leech, arrogance, Óscar Faura, based on a book, based on a true story, Benedict Cumberbatch, Best Actor nominee, Best Actress nominee, Best Adapted Screenplay winner, Best Director nominee, Best Film Editing nominee, Best Original Score nominee, Best Picture nominee, Charles Dance, cinema, code-breakers, crossword puzzles, cryptography, dramas, early computers, Enigma machine, film reviews, films, flashback narrative, flashbacks, Graham Moore, Headhunters, homophobia, homosexuality, Jack Bannon, James Northcote, Keira Knightley, life during wartime, Mark Strong, mathematicians, Matthew Beard, Matthew Goode, MI6, Morten Tyldum, Movies, multiple award nominee, mystery, Oscar nominee, persecution, race against time, romances, Rory Kinnear, Russian spies, secrets, set in 1940s, set in 1950s, set in England, spies, The Imitation Game, thrillers, Tom Goodman-Hill, Turing machines, war films, William Goldenberg, World War II

True heroes, unlike their cinematic counterparts, rarely receive the appreciation that they deserve. Oh sure: they may be honored, feted and immortalized via statuary but this is usually long after they’ve ceased drawing breath on this particular plane of existence. The reason for this, in most cases, is that true heroes…the kinds who save tens of thousands, if not more…usually operate in the shadows, away from the spotlight of public scrutiny. They’re the doctors and scientists who discover new cures and immunizations on a regular basis…the engineers who continue to craft safer buildings, bridges and roads…the unsung politicians, bureaucrats and civil servants who toil away behind the scenes, not for power, money or glory but because they honestly don’t want to see their citizenry starving or freezing to death in the streets. Cinematic heroes are a lot more thrilling, sure: watching Batman punch the living shit out of garishly clad supervillains is much more thrilling IMAX fare than watching Jonas Salk develop a Polio vaccine. When it comes down to brass tacks, however, it’s kind of obvious that Salk has saved at least a few more folks than Batman has, albeit with much less panache.

Morten Tyldum’s multi-Oscar-nominated The Imitation Game (2014) takes a look at one such unsung hero, the prickly, brilliant mathematician/cryptologist Alan Turing. Aside from being responsible for the Turing machine, a proto-computer that would be a nice enough feather in anyone’s cap, Turing was also one of the British code-breakers responsible for cracking Germany’s infamous Enigma machine during World War II, allowing the Allies to move the war into its endgame. Estimates put the number of lives saved by ending the war early at around 14 million, give or take: in other words, not bad for a guy who wore a sweater and slacks to  work instead of a spandex suit. Along with being a world-class code-breaker, however, Turing was also a gay man during a time period when sexual orientation was illegal. Years after his triumph over the Engima machine, Turing was prosecuted and found guilty of indecency: choosing chemical castration, Turing would go on to commit suicide roughly a year after his “therapy,” at the tender age of 41.

Similar to The Iron Lady (2011) and The Theory of Everything (2014), The Imitation Game takes the real facts of Turing’s life and expands, folds and manipulates them into something altogether more “cinematic,” if arguably less factual. By employing a flashback structure, Tyldum runs three simultaneous timelines: the “present-day,” circa 1951; the “war years,” circa the 1940s; and Turing’s childhood, circa the late-’20s. While the meat of the story takes place during the war, the “present-day” material opens the film and sets up a mystery (of sorts) that the school and war eras will attempt to “solve.”

In the present day, we follow Detective Robert Nock (Rory Kinnear) as he investigates a mysterious break-in at the home of Prof. Alan Turing (Benedict Cumberbatch). As Nock investigates the incident, with a minimum amount of support and help from the prickly Turing, he becomes stymied by the reclusive professor’s redacted military record. This leads us into the film proper, with Turing attempting to offer his services to the British government as a decoder, despite a complete lack of interest in politics, social disorder or even a rudimentary understanding of the German language.

As Turing butts heads with his rigid, disapproving commander (Charles Dance), he also manages to tick off the other code-breakers that he’s supposed to be working with, labeling each of them as “worthless” in each own, indomitable way. He does, however, manage to find a kindred spirit in Joan Clarke (Keira Knightley): their friendship eventually develops into an engagement, albeit one inherently doomed by Alan’s homosexuality. We then get the third part of our little “triptych” as we journey back to Turing’s boyhood years and witness the young genius (Alex Lawther) as he’s introduced to the world of cryptography and falls in love with his classmate, Christopher (Jack Bannon). As these three timelines move and maneuver around each other, we gradually develop a more complete picture of Turing as the quintessential outsider, a man tasked with saving the social order that , ultimately, condemns and hates him. You know: pretty much the definition of the selfless hero.

While the historical details behind The Imitation Game are certainly up for debate (as they were in the aforementioned biopics) the film, itself, is a much sturdier, well-made and entertaining affair than either The Iron Lady or The Theory of Everything. Credit certainly must go to Cumberbatch, who tears into the role of Turing with complete and absolute gusto: while he gets several “big” scenes, it’s all of the small, almost invisible personal tics and quirks that really make the character come alive. While there’s nothing here that’s completely foreign to Cumberbatch’s work with the new Sherlock series (aside from a new-found sense of vulnerability that would fit the smug detective as poorly as a reverse-mohawk), he’s pretty effortless as getting across the commingled pain, hubris and awkwardness that seemed to be at the heart of the character. Cumberbatch is an actor who understands how important it is to listen: there’s a rare joy to be found in watching an almost endless cycle of emotions sail across his expressive face, from boyish mischief to hopeless defeat. Rather than simply indulging in mimicry (as with Streep’s take on Maggie Thatcher or Redmayne’s performance as Stephen Hawking), Cumberbatch does it the old-fashioned way and just acts.

As befits this type of large-scale production, Cumberbatch has quite the cast to back him up. While Keira Knightley has never especially blown me away, I quite enjoyed her low-key performance as Joan: the bit where she tells the obnoxious Turing that, as a woman in a man’s job, she “doesn’t have the luxury of being an ass,” like him, is subtly (but witheringly) delivered but as sturdy as concrete. There’s also good work coming from Matthew Goode, Allen Leech, Matthew Beard and James Northcote as Turing’s put-upon co-workers, with Goode getting some especially nice moments. If Charles Dance and Low Winter Sun’s Mark Strong come off more stereotypical and clichéd (as the stodgy commander and sneaky MI6 agent, respectively), chalk this up to roles that serve more as plot-points than to any deficiencies in the acting, which are top-notch.

From a filmmaking perspective, The Imitation Game mostly works, although I’ll admit to not being a fan of the flashback structure. For my money, this would have worked much better as a more traditional narrative, moving from Turing’s childhood up to his indecency conviction: the constant cutting between eras often has the effect of pulling us out of the moment, making it difficult to ever get fully invested in the structure. The “present-day” material also exists solely as a contrived “mystery,” especially since the final emotional resolution occurs via screen-text after the film has actually ended. Running it chronologically (with, perhaps, a return to the childhood-era for the final revelation/emotional wallop) would have kept the focus on Turing, eliminating the unnecessary mystery element. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that the various newsreel cutaways and war scenes, while de rigueur for this type of film, really stick out like a sore thumb: they never feel authentic or, to be honest, even particularly well-integrated.

While The Imitation Game would go on to rack up an altogether impressive array of award nominations (including a win for Best Adapted Screenplay), there were also plenty of critics who decried the film’s various historical inaccuracies and seeming desire to minimize Turing’s homosexuality. From my perspective, I didn’t necessarily find this to be the case. While it’s certainly true that the film makes certain deviations from the historical record (including creating characters and conflicts that never existed), it would be difficult to find a cinematic biopic that doesn’t do that: certainly, The Imitation Game seems no more guilty of this than does the similarly lauded The Theory of Everything, which managed to paint its subject in such glowing terms that the whole thing seemed more than a bit fanciful and overly romantic. The Imitation Game is a much more gritty, down-to-earth film, albeit one with a foot planted firmly in the kinds of historical biopics that multiplex audiences will be more than familiar with.

I also felt that Turing’s homosexuality was portrayed in a much more organic way than many films like this might opt for: the silly “mystery” angle notwithstanding, the childhood and war-era storylines opt for a refreshing “show, don’t tell” mentality that never feels forced. While the final text does seem like a bit of a cop-out (for the most part, the entirety of the film’s equality message is shoe-horned in right before the credits roll), there’s enough subtle characterization and commentary, throughout, to get the message across loud and clear.

Ultimately, The Imitation Game is a suitably sturdy, well-made character study, although I certainly didn’t find it to be the best film of 2014 (or even one of the best, to be honest). While Tyldum is an assured hand with the material here, guiding the film’s many tense setpieces with a ruthless sense of efficiency, there’s also very little that stands out, aside from the excellent performances. For my money, Tyldum’s previous film, the astounding Headhunters (2011), was a much more impressive, mind-blowing piece of art: The Imitation Game, while more important and “serious,” is certainly the lesser of the two, in close comparison.

Despite its (decidedly minor) issues, however, there’s no denying that The Imitation Game is a solid, powerful and well-crafted film. In an era where the LGBT community still fights for the rights, respect and understanding that has been sadly absent for too long, there’s no denying that this is a story that definitely needs to be told. As long as any person is forced to go through what Alan Turing was put through, all of humanity collectively suffers. Here’s to hoping that, in the future, our children will look back on the events depicted in The Imitation Game as an example of a petty, small-minded and terrible time that no longer exists.

True heroism, after all, isn’t about making the world better for yourself: true heroism is about making the world better for everyone, regardless of gender, race, sexual orientation, nation of origin, religion (or lack thereof), political-leaning or personal wealth.

5/13/14: The Gary and Harrison Show

Tags

Amber Heard, Angela Sarafyan, auteur theory, based on a book, cinema, Con Air, corporate intrigue, David Tattersall, Die Another Day, Embeth Davidtz, evil corporations, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Gary Oldman, Harrison Ford, industrial espionage, Jock Goddard, Josh Holloway, Junkie XL, Kevin Kilner, Killers, Legally Blonde, Liam Hemsworth, Lucas Till, Monster-in-Law, movie, Nicolas Wyatt, paranoia, Richard Dreyfuss, Robert Luketic, spies, Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace, tech-thriller, technology, voice-over narration, Win a Date with Tad Hamilton

Ever gotten the faint idea that you’ve already heard or seen something even if you’re pretty sure you haven’t? Similar to deja vu, I’ll often get the nagging notion that I’ve already watched a particular film, even to the point where I’ll begin to “remember” scenes. I tend to have a very strange memory: it preserves some things in amber and tosses out quite a bit without hesitation. As such, I frequently find myself asking: have I already seen this before? It happened with John Hillcoat’s The Proposition (2005), a film which I ended up watching “for the first time” at least twice, if not three times: it’s a great film, don’t get me wrong, it just managed to pass unimpeded through the sieve of my mind on multiple occasions. As I watched Robert Luketic’s most recent film, Paranoia (2013), I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d already seen this before. Turns out I hadn’t but I had, in a way: I’d never seen this particular iteration of the formula before but I’ve seen plenty of soulless, created-by-committee, commercial product in my time. If there’s one thing that can be said about Paranoia, it’s that it features Harrison Ford…and he seems mostly awake, for a change.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before: a young, principled and ambitious go-getter gets tangled in the messy webs of corporate intrigue, leading him/her further down the rabbit hole as temptation, double-crosses and ulterior motives begin to fly fast and furious. Yeah, me too. It’s almost a tale as old as time…or at least as old as stories about the avarice and evil of the corporate world. Handsome, principled and ambitious young go-getter Adam (Liam Hemsworth) works at Wyatt Corp., doing the kind of vague tech stuff that everyone in tech-related films seem to do. He runs afoul of head ogre, Nicolas Wyatt (Gary Oldman, shoveling scenery down his gullet as fast as it’ll go) when he can’t come with a cool, innovative new idea: “You have everything at your disposal and come up with social networking on a TV?” Be nice, Wyatt: the filmmakers had quite a bit at their disposal, too and yet: here we are.

Adam and his “quirky” friends, Kevin (Lucas Til) and Allison (Angela Sarafyan) get canned but Adam’s still got the company credit card: who wants to par-tay? $16K (and one drunken hook-up with a mysterious blonde, played by Amber Heard) later and Adam’s up shit-creek with Wyatt. Good ol’ Nicolas, of course, has something up his sleeve: he’s Gary Oldman, after all, and that dude is just untrustworthy. He wants Adam to infiltrate the tech company, Eikon, run by his former partner, and current bitter rival, Jock Goddard (Harrison Ford). Adam is to insinuate himself in the group and steal the plans for Goddard’s newest “genius” invention, some sort of a spiffy new iPhone. When Adam balks, because he’s got principles and stuff, Wyatt reminds him of his position: “Are you a horse or a dog, Adam? Horses are motivated by fear, dogs by hunger.” Since Adam needs to pay $40K in medical bills for his ailing father (an utterly, absolutely, completely wasted Richard Dreyfuss), he doesn’t have a lot of choices: Cue up “Who Let the Dogs Out,” cuz Adam’s on the payroll.

After meeting with Goddard’s hiring agent, Tom Lungren (Kevin Kilner), Adam also gets to meet his assistant: if you guessed Amber Heard, reward yourself by tagging out of the film. His former bed-partner, Emma, is super suspicious of Adam but, then again, the film is called Paranoia…whatcha gonna do? Adam gets a job and ends up wowing Goddard with his ability to take other people’s ideas and repackage them: he’s the perfect corporate guy! As Adam gets deeper and deeper under cover, things begin to get more dangerous: Wyatt’s sinister right-hand man, Miles (Julian McMahon), is always lurking in the shadows, Goddard seems to be on to something and Emma is falling hard for Adam (who wouldn’t? Guy’s got abs for miles.). When FBI agent Gamble (Josh Holloway) enters the picture and lets Adam know that the feds have Wyatt in their cross-hairs and need Adam’s help to snare him, what’s a young, principled and ambitious go-getter to do? Many double-crosses and needlessly complex back-and-forth later, we find out.

Folks, unless this is one of the first films you’ve ever seen (which is entirely possible, what do I know?), there is absolutely, positively nothing here that you haven’t seen before, probably in much more interesting ways. The story is moldy and features so many gaping holes that I’m guessing they were on purpose: if you thought the “heroic” T-rex in Jurassic Park was a deus ex machina, wait until you get to the part in Paranoia where the whole success of Adam’s plan hinges on the fact that his cellphone won’t be fried after getting dunked in a pitcher of water. There’s no reason it should keep working but it has to, to further the plot, and so it does. The final doublecross is equally ludicrous, requiring so much suspension of disbelief that we’re pretty much in Space Jam land: I believed everything Bugs did in that movie way more than I believe anything that these idiots do in this film.

The acting is what it is: Hemsworth is handsome and bland; Oldman is both ridiculously over-the-top and strangely deflated, as if he were coming down from a week-long crack bender; Ford, as mentioned earlier, actually seems awake and aware, for a change. I’m not saying that anything in his performance will make people forget his iconic roles (or even forget the fact that, nowadays, he seems higher than Doug Benson whenever he makes public appearances) but he definitely seems aware and there’s a tiny (a minuscule, smaller-than-a-pinprick) bit of his old chutzpah here. Watching Paranoia strictly for Ford’s performance would be a fool’s errand, of course, but he’s definitely not the worst thing in the film.

Director Luketic is something of a middle-of-the-road, paint-by-numbers auteur, since he was also responsible for Legally Blonde (2001), Win a Date with Tad Hamilton (2004), Monster-in-Law (2005), 21 (2008), The Ugly Truth (2009) and Killers (2010). The one common thread in Luketic’s canon is his polished, bland style, so airbrushed that everything looks like it was poured from a mold. Veteran cinematographer David Tattersall handles the camera for this one: his previous films included the Star Wars prequels, Con Air (1997), Die Another Day (2002), XXX: State of the Union (2005) and Speed Racer (2008). Tattersall specializes in big, glossy productions and Paranoia is no exception, albeit a much shallower one than even State of the Union. Paranoia is technically proficient, sure, but it’s also hollow.

Basically, you have a director and cinematographer that specialize in big, empty images; a cast that phones the whole thing in; copious slo-mo and pounding techno music (courtesy of Junkie XL) to show how badass the whole thing is; a vague, unsatisfying message about bringing down “the man” while lining your own pockets; and enough dumb coincidence to drive any other film into the ground. Even as a time-waster on a lazy Sunday afternoon, Paranoia comes up short. I can almost guarantee that this isn’t the worst film you’ll see this year: it can’t even make that commitment. Instead, Paranoia is just another lazy example of how truly artless modern action films can be. There’s nothing here to offend but there’s also not much to remember, either.

2/11/14: That is the Question

Tags

actors, Alan Johnson, Anna Bronski, Anne Bancroft, auteur theory, Blazing Saddles, Charles Durning, Christopher Lloyd, cinema, comedies, doubles, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, Frederick Bronski, imposters, invasion of Poland, Jose Ferrer, Life Stinks, Mel Brooks, Movies, multiple roles, musical numbers, Nazis, period-piece, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Ronny Graham, screwball comedies, Spaceballs, spies, The Producers, theatre group, Thomas Meehan, Tim Matheson, To Be or Not To Be, World War II, Young Frankenstein

Pound for pound, there are probably few comedic writer/director/actors with the kind of resume that Mel Brooks has. Even if they haven’t all been winners (and Life Stinks (1991), Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993) and Dracula: Dead and Loving It (1995) definitely belong in the “Not Winning” category), Brooks has been responsible for some truly indelible, classic films. Try and imagine a world without The Producers (1967), Blazing Saddles (1974), Young Frankenstein (1974), High Anxiety (1977) or Spaceballs (1987)…that’s right: not a pretty picture is it, pal? Achievements as big as those tend to buy you an awful lot of goodwill, after all, and if the last 23 years of Brook’s career haven’t been as great as the first 24 years…well, the guy has kind of earned the right to rest on his laurels a bit.

For my money, Brooks is at his most unstoppable when he’s writing, directing and acting simultaneously (although this didn’t do anything to resuscitate his last three films, ironically enough). I think he’s a great actor but his kind of broad performance type is really only well-suited to his own over-the-top, joke-a-minute writing style. In anything where the jokes don’t come quite so fast and furious, however, such as Screw Loose (1999), Brooks often comes across as a fish-out-of-water. For some reason, that pliable mug of his absolutely flourishes in screwball territory.

To Be or Not To Be, directed by Brooks’ longtime choreographer Alan Johnson (the genius behind the Springtime for Hitler and Puttin’ on the Ritz segments in The Producers and Young Frankenstein, respectively) is a decent, if not revelatory, Brooks vehicle that marks one of the last (small) hurrahs in his career, followed four years later by Spaceballs (the last Brooks film that I truly enjoyed, including the patently awful remake of The Producers from 2005). While Brooks didn’t write or direct the film, writers Thomas Meehan and Ronny Graham would go on to write Spaceballs, making this a bit of a dry run for Brooks Star Wars-parody.

While To Be or Not To Be never quite scales the dizzying heights of previous Brooks’ classics, there are still plenty of genuine laughs to be found here, although nothing really too deep to think about. Technically a remake of a 1942 Jack Benny film, To Be or Not to Be details the attempts by a group of Polish actors and military personnel to identify and do away with a German double-agent on the eve of Germany’s invasion of Poland. Frederick Bronski (Brooks) and his wife, Anna (Anne Bancroft, in a deliriously giddy role) must deal with the spy (played by a virtually unrecognizable Jose Ferrer), asinine Nazi commandants (side-splitting turns by Charles During and Christopher Lloyd) and a randy Polish pilot (Tim Matheson) who wants to free Poland from the Germans and Anna from her stage-clothes, possibly in reverse order.

Although To Be or Not To Be is nowhere near the laugh riot of Brook’s earlier films, it’s probably unfair to assume that it would be. For one thing, To Be or Not To Be tends to be one of Brooks’ plot-heaviest confections (this still isn’t Solaris, mind you, but probably has the most convoluted plot since The Producers), so there’s much less of an emphasis on rapid-fire gags and more emphasis on running jokes and elongated payoffs. To Be or Not To Be is also (technically) a remake, so it suffers from a certain further sense of removal from the rest of Brooks’ oeuvre.

That being said, To Be or Not To Be is still filled with some truly great, hilarious moments. One of Bronski’s shows is called Naughty Nazis and is just as delightful as the ridiculous title would indicate (“A Little Piece of Poland” is a pretty amazing tune) and his Shakespearian “greatest hits” performance, titled “Highlights From Hamlet,” is good enough to get its own full-length. There’s a great running gag about the theatre troupe hiding Jewish refugees in the basement (Bronski’s reaction, upon seeing that “a couple” has turned into “a lot” is classic Brooks) and the bit where Bronski, dressed as Hitler, walks into a British pub and innocently inquires: “Is this England?” is just about as good as silly absurdist humor gets.

The acting, as a whole, is quite good, although Christopher Lloyd and Charles Durning easily steal any scene they appear in. Lloyd, in particular, is absolutely marvelous as Capt. Schultz, the stone-faced Nazi who has zero time for any shenanigans. It’s a wonderful change-of-pace role for Lloyd, something that really surprised (and delighted) me. Truth be told: we could have used a whole lot more Lloyd in the film. Bancroft is obviously hanging a blast playing the ditzy-but-canny Anna and there’s some genuinely nice chemistry between her and Brooks. Matheson is just fine in the kind of fresh-faced-rube role that he routinely pulled-off in his sleep, although his character is never asked to be much more than agreeable, bland wallpaper.

The whole film culminates in a circus-clown inspired escape attempt that manages to be both genuinely funny and truly nail-biting: this heightened sense of real tension was something that felt new for Brooks’ films: even edgy fare like Blazing Saddles, despite its storyline, often felt fairly low-stakes whereas we frequently get the impression (in To Be or Not to Be) that any of these characters could die at any time. That’s not to say that the film is ever grim (or even particularly serious, most of the time) but there is definitely the potential for deep tragedy here.

Ultimately, To Be or Not to Be sits pretty comfortably in the middle of Mel Brooks’ canon. While it’s nowhere near as good as his classics (but really…what is?), it’s certainly no where near as dire as his (to this point) final three films were. I’ll probably always consider Spaceballs to be Brooks “final” film, but To Be or Not To Be wasn’t a terrible lead-up to it.