I’m under the impression that people settle on an all-time favorite movie at a relatively early age. With time they become increasingly difficult to displace, no matter what cinematic greatness may follow. This is what best describes my experience with “Jaws” (1975). Eventually I may have acquired a greater admiration for “The Godfather” films but by then it was too late. My first viewing of “Jaws” felt perfect. I later learned it wasn’t.
After discovering that a cancer will take her life within a few months, Ann, a young 23 years-old, makes two important decisions: to hide the disease from everyone (including her husband and their two young daughters) and to draw up a list of things she wants to do before her death – and her wishes include “making love to another man” and “causing someone to fall for me.” This is the point at which “My Life Without Me,” directed and written by Isabel Coixet, risks scaring away its viewers: the attitudes of Ann show, yes, selfishness and immaturity.
Robert Zemeckis’ new film “Flight” (2012) returns us to the terrain of live action after his three consecutive animated films (two of which were happy movies about Christmas). Here, he makes it clear from the very first scene that this is a far edgier Zemeckis. It is far more graphic and far more emotional than anything we have previously seen from him. The result is on the outside a big budget public service announcement, while on the inside, a film far more complicated than it seems.
One of my earliest and most memorable movie going experiences was Franklin Schaffner’s 1968’s “Planet of the Apes”. It was presented in my grade school’s Cine Club (sort of a small film festival that played one different, semi-recent movie every Saturday during a period of about a month). For weeks prior to the showing I was mesmerized by the publicity artwork which depicted a caged Charlton Heston being repressed by a gorilla. As an eight year old the movie originally struck me purely as a horror piece but it is the other “little things” that still compel me to write about it after all these years.
What’s more, I believe “Planet of the Apes” with all of its different incarnations: original classic, sequels, remakes and TV adaptations, makes for a wonderful example of cinematic “dos and don’ts” At a glance the first entry in the series may seem like just another monster movie but this is hardly the case. It’s too bad neither the majority of the filmmakers involved in the sequels, nor Tim Burton in his remake, were ever able to figure this out.
Nearly every frame in this movie is a low-angle shot, looking up in awe and curiosity. At times, we gasp at the complex beauty of galaxies and supernovas. At times we stare closely at expressions of children that seem no less complex, no less beautiful, and no less valuable. At times we look to the sky, hoping to see what our characters see. Terrence Malick’s wondrously abstract “The Tree of Life” has very little dialogue, but is not at all a silent movie.
Every family has that playful uncle loved for his cuddly silliness. He is that uncle who is a few syllables beyond eccentric, who does not quite follow the rules of appropriate conduct. Kids love him while his peers look down on him. For Bollywood cinema, that beloved uncle is one of Bollywood’s most loved ensemble pictures, Manmohan Desai’s “Amar Akbar Anthony” (1977). It is easily one of the most beloved of all Bollywood films. It is a long melodrama, an action movie, a screwball comedy, a romance, a con film, a religious devotion, and, of course, a musical.
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“Carrie” (1976) was based on standard horror material but became memorable thanks to Brian De Palma’s ability to keep an audience unnerved every step of the way. Think for a moment of the nature of telekinesis, the film’s supernatural gimmick. The ability to mentally transport things is surely not as intriguing or frightening as the gifts of other Stephen King characters, but the director seems to realize that once the public buys it, he can then take liberties and add it to other dimensions related to the protagonist’s fears and obsessions. That’s s what made the picture unsettling. Some of the De Palma’s other films have felt more like exercises in movie craftsmanship (“Body Double,” “Raising Cain,” “Snake Eyes”) but this particular story lent itself particularly well to his usual directorial traits and they felt fresher at this stage of his career.
With films like “Zodiac” (2007) David Fincher has become Hollywood’s serial-killer specialist and yet his entries from that genre seem to have more in common with “The Insider” than with “Psycho” or “The Silence of the Lambs” He shows a great fascination with the details surrounding each case, than with their heroes and villains. His approach is usually just as meticulous when inspired by fictional works (“Seven”, “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”) as by real-life events. Perhaps it is Oliver Stone’s “JFK” that this film most resembles; obsession is at both their cores.
Why in the world couldn’t we use this thing called television for the
broadcasting of grace through the land? – Mr Rogers
There aren’t many films that have made me cry. “Brokeback Mountain” prickled my eyes. “Toy Story 2” caused a lone tear to escape my eyelids and creep across my cheek. “Dear Zachary” made me discreetly weep with silent despair. And two PBS documentaries about a children’s TV presenter left me red-eyed and runny-nosed, my face swollen and my chest shaking, as I sat clutching Kleenex and trying not to dehydrate.
I have a friend who promised himself over a decade ago never to be at the service of his career, and rather, that his career should be at his service. The result is that his wife left him, his family looks down on him, he earns a fraction of what his peers earn–a fraction of what his aptitude would dictate (I think he’s a genius). He takes most of his jobs on contract, spanning very short periods of time. And, he is one of the happiest, most calm people I know; at least he seems content. In contrast, J.C. Chandor’s “Margin Call” (2011) is the story of a group of high-powered bankers getting set to lose their jobs, and perhaps more.
One man. Three acts. Three stories. First, he is an aggressive corporate manager, racing against seconds and minutes to do his work and live his life. Second, he is a quiet man in a peaceful land, where time moves in seasons and years. Third, he is a bewildered man at home, where time has slipped passed him, making him miss the most important events of his life, including his own death. This is Robert Zemeckis’ great “Cast Away” (2000). If this were a foreign language film or an independent film with a no-name cast, I am sure it would have received tremendous acclaim. As an American film by a major American director featuring two powerhouse actors (Tom Hanks and Helen Hunt), however, it has been left underrated.
Whenever I saw a plastic bag, a mixed feeling of benevolence and mild annoyance used to bubble up within me. When not neatly stacked by the cashier in a store or filled with stuff, they were usually flapping in the wind making unnecessary noises or worse, trailing in the gutter or sidewalk, being useless. Their life as intended was over, but they seemed oblivious.
These feeling changed after I first read the novel “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro, which in its almost-casual prose and easy pace, threaded me through the legendary grounds of Hailsham and the damp English countryside with Ruth, Tommy, and Kathy. Along the way I sat beside the girls while they bonded, and stood beside the boys while they yelled. Throughout their lives, I got to know these three people, and they became real to me. By the time the book completed, so had they, but I was not.
I was born in London on February the 29th (leap year) 11 minutes before my twin brother. After birth, I stayed in the UK for five years and then moved to my home country, Egypt. I’ve been living in Cairo ever since.
My passion for cinema started at a very young age when my father gave me an old video cassette of “Jaws” as a birthday gift. The viewing of that movie triggered a movie watching frenzy and I’ve been reading about film ever since. Many people in Egypt simply know me for my film collection for it includes hundreds of titles (which may be normal elsewhere yet is very uncommon among Egyptians).
The prospect of filming “Waiting for Godot” has always fascinated me. Can film do it any justice? Better yet, will it even translate well on film? I believe it could work. However, it depends on who adapts the screen adaptation. I’m not talking about a re-imagining but a direct adaptation. I cannot see anything being changed in “Waiting for Godot” because if anything is changed it will not be Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” but [Director’s Name]’s “Waiting for Godot.”
Still, if nothing is changed, it still doesn’t mean it will work as a motion picture. Some of the greatest works of literature have been adapted to the silver screen with a faithful structure and direct character quotations, only to fail miserably. Take Henry James’ “The Europeans” for example. The novel is a perfectly enriched with interesting characters trying to adapt in a sudden clash of cultures.
When a great influential film comes out, we usually get a backlash of cheap knock-offs. After James Cameron’s “Titanic” we suffered through Michael Bay’s “Pearl Harbor.” When “Pulp Fiction” came out people praised its genius but its influence drove the genre to a creative blockage. Everybody wanted to be the next Tarantino. Directors probably asked themselves “What would Tarantino do?” before violating their own originality. Like most imitations, of Rolex watches or anything else, they look the same but don’t work the same.
What’s the last great love story you’ve seen on film? I don’t mean your typical “rom-coms” with contrived meet-cutes that rely heavily on celebrity star power. I’m talking about a genuine romance between two richly defined characters. If your mind draws a blank, you’re not alone. Hollywood, along with much of the filmmaking world, seems to have either forgotten how to portray love affairs in ways that once made us swoon. Whatever the reason, be it due to our changing times or priorities, we might not see any significant ones for some time.
“Wait until you see the rest of my forest,” says Aisling, before she leads Brendan to the top of an oak tree. That remark by a guardian of the forest describes “Brendan and the Secret of Kells.” This deceptively simple story of a young Irish monk has hidden dimensions beneath its lush, exuberant visuals. To praise its beauty alone becomes an understatement. Its beautifully realised storytelling is rich in symbols, analogies and themes, some obvious and others not so, that give weight and meaning to a seemingly uncomplicated story, set against a mixture of history, fantasy, reality and myth.
You may find it disturbing to see audiences laughing while watching “The Exorcist”(1973), but you will probably not see any problem in having some laugh with “Rosemary’s Baby” (1968). It goes without saying that they are two of the most chilling modern horror films, but, while the former unsettles us with its utmost solemnness parodied many times since it came out, the latter has a spooky sense of humor immune to parodies. How can you make an effective parody to undermine a horror film if it already has a devilish tongue slyly placed on its dark cheek?
Mike Leigh’s Another Year (2010) is like a tender, swollen, beating heart that you hold within your palms: the soft flesh expands and contracts with every breath, and through the tiny crevices in between your fingers, life juices flow.
“Life is not always kind, is it?”
Gerri looks at Mary and quietly let those words slip. Mary catches her gaze, briefly. The letters settle over them like a mild fog, unmistakably present and non-disruptive, and the day proceeds on as it does.
Another day. Another year.
Through uncanny realism and probing characters, Leigh’s latest film speaks of the pervasive dilemma of our kind: how do we live in this world in the presence of those so different and similar to ourselves at once? How do we make sense of each of our own way of life?
Ben Affleck’s “The Town” (2010) is an impressive effort from a third time director whose acting choices almost derailed his Hollywood career. With the clear exception of “Changing Lanes” (2002), this film is better than everything he ever did before and the reason is simple: instead of choosing to be involved in another blockbuster wannnabe, Affleck wrote, directed and starred in this heartfelt project about a fascinating borough that he seems familiar with. It is also a work of numerous, obvious inspirations, raising the question of whether said fact makes it any less worthy.
