The Sweet Hereafter (1997) dir. Atom Egoyan: Before Atom Egoyan was making Amanda Seyfried snog Julianne Moore (and much more), he was making delicate dramas about human relationships. In this critically acclaimed film (a rare modern picture that holds a 100% rating on RottenTomatoes), Egoyan's focus is on a small town in the aftermath of a tragedy, and the lawyer who tries to profit by launching a class-action lawsuit. Though it's compelling and well-acted, I'm not sure exactly why it merits such stupendous acclaim. It has its moments of honest insight into people's reactions to tragedy, as well as the way people relate to one another, but a subplot involving the lawyer's (Iam Holm) daughter at time feels like it's trying to break away and become its own film. Strangely, the film's most riveting scene concerns the lawyer recounting a near-miss with death. It's mesmerizing thanks to the sparse editing and Holm's delivery, but after the movie was over, it was hard to look back and the moment without thinking "so what did that really add to the main story?" The moment works as a sort of look into the lawyer when he's not a man driven by profit, but feels shoe-horned in considering the movie around it. Again, this is the sort of scene that seems to beg for its own film, rather than one that flows and/or enhances with the main narrative. That said, it's still a quietly compelling watch, particularly for the acting (Holm, Sarah Polley, Bruce Greenwood) and delicate score. It just doesn't feel like best-of-all-time material.Grade: B
Three Colors Trilogy: Blue, White, and Red (1993-1994)
When we think of triologies these days, we tend to think of "big" films. Big budgets, big stories, big stars, and big special effects. However, Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors trilogy proves that trilogies can work equally well with experimentation, intimacy, and barely connected characters. The working premise of the three is that each film examines the symbolism of a color of the French flag, albeit with some sort of irony. Blue, the first, examines liberty, followed by White (egality), and finishing with Red (fraternity). Such a set up had all the potential to be a pretentious exercise in tedium, but instead, Kieslowski's trilogy is an intriguing, beautiful examination of several lives in the modern world.
Blue is probably the least accessible of the three, and certainly the slowest, but it is anchored by a quietly stirring performance by Juliette Binoche as a grief-stricken woman who seeks to liberate herself from human relationships. The occasional musical cues, somewhat plot related, can be jarring at first, but upon closer examination serve a well thought-out purpose; I wouldn't be surprised if Blue improved the most on a second viewing. Next is White, generally considered the "weakest" of the three (hardly an insult). Something of a dark comedy, it's the story of a man who has easily the worst day in his life, only to return to his native Poland to plot emotional revenge on his ex (Julie Delpy). A much brisker picture than Blue, White does occasionally lose some narrative focus (though I suspect certain details are left out on purpose), and the ending isn't as satisfying. However, it does provide a refreshingly light perspective after Blue, albeit at the risk of depth. Thankfully Kieslowski saved the best for last. The Oscar-nominated Red, combines the best of the previous installments: Blue's psychological depth with White's crisper pacing and twisty story-telling. Irene Jacob and Jean Louis-Trintignant form the compelling center of the story of a woman who befriends a judge who likes to listen in on his neighbors' phone calls. What starts as something potentially creepy becomes an engrossing, layered film that is both tragic and hopeful, with a magnificent ending bringing it all together. Think of it as proof that not all trilogies need to bottom-out in their third chapters.
Blue is probably the least accessible of the three, and certainly the slowest, but it is anchored by a quietly stirring performance by Juliette Binoche as a grief-stricken woman who seeks to liberate herself from human relationships. The occasional musical cues, somewhat plot related, can be jarring at first, but upon closer examination serve a well thought-out purpose; I wouldn't be surprised if Blue improved the most on a second viewing. Next is White, generally considered the "weakest" of the three (hardly an insult). Something of a dark comedy, it's the story of a man who has easily the worst day in his life, only to return to his native Poland to plot emotional revenge on his ex (Julie Delpy). A much brisker picture than Blue, White does occasionally lose some narrative focus (though I suspect certain details are left out on purpose), and the ending isn't as satisfying. However, it does provide a refreshingly light perspective after Blue, albeit at the risk of depth. Thankfully Kieslowski saved the best for last. The Oscar-nominated Red, combines the best of the previous installments: Blue's psychological depth with White's crisper pacing and twisty story-telling. Irene Jacob and Jean Louis-Trintignant form the compelling center of the story of a woman who befriends a judge who likes to listen in on his neighbors' phone calls. What starts as something potentially creepy becomes an engrossing, layered film that is both tragic and hopeful, with a magnificent ending bringing it all together. Think of it as proof that not all trilogies need to bottom-out in their third chapters.Grade(s): Blue (B+), White (B), Red (A-/A)
All That Jazz (1979) dir. Bob Fosse: Though most people remember Bob Fosse (in the film world) for Cabaret, All That Jazz is nothing to shrug off. Fosse's reinterpretation of Fellini's 8 1/2 is a striking, energetic depiction of an artist whose life enters a free-fall as he struggles with his latest project. The best thing that Fosse did with All That Jazz is make it his own. One of the chief criticisms of Nine (a film which I do like, however) is that it lacks the spark of Fellini's original, and that comes down to one reason: Rob Marshall does not have the same personal life as Fellini. The story that Fellini created in 8 1/2 is so deeply connected to the director, that in order for it to work, it can't be re-told; it must be personalized and even updated, rather than try and totally mimic. 
Fosse's protagonist, for instance, is a director of stage and screen, like Fosse himself, and though there are women in his life (the wife, the mistress, the muse), some have been sacrificed and replaced (out with the whore; in with the daughter). The film also owes much to the staggering performance of Roy Scheider as Joe Gideon. It's not just in his expressions, but in his movements, that Scheider is able to communicate so much, so well. And then of course, there's the choreography. From the test-performance of a nudity-laden number to the parade of performances during the surgery sequence, to the finale, each song and dance is a stunningly constructed piece of work that only enhances the story. And even though Scheider is obviously not a vocalist (he never belts any notes, or tries to), his performance during the finale is sensational, as is the film itself. It's an interpretation that Fellini himself would be proud of.
Fosse's protagonist, for instance, is a director of stage and screen, like Fosse himself, and though there are women in his life (the wife, the mistress, the muse), some have been sacrificed and replaced (out with the whore; in with the daughter). The film also owes much to the staggering performance of Roy Scheider as Joe Gideon. It's not just in his expressions, but in his movements, that Scheider is able to communicate so much, so well. And then of course, there's the choreography. From the test-performance of a nudity-laden number to the parade of performances during the surgery sequence, to the finale, each song and dance is a stunningly constructed piece of work that only enhances the story. And even though Scheider is obviously not a vocalist (he never belts any notes, or tries to), his performance during the finale is sensational, as is the film itself. It's an interpretation that Fellini himself would be proud of.Grade: A- /A
Well, that's all for now. See you next week (by that time I will have hopefully seen The A-Team and Toy Story 3 in theaters too).
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