Review: "The Monuments Men"

Director: George Clooney
Runtime: 118 minutes

Even at just two hours, The Monuments Men feels longer than World War II itself. There is fascinating history in this story, but draggy pacing and a lack of stakes quickly drown this star-studded endeavor. Director and co-writer George Clooney has assembled a big name cast who are all dressed up with nowhere to go, even in a story set against WWII and the last days of the Third Reich. Neither convincingly dramatic nor sufficiently comedic, The Monuments Men is a misfire that casts significant doubts on Clooney's abilities behind the camera.

Rather than sit through The Monuments Men, you'd be better off watching the excellent documentary The Rape of Europa. Despite all of the big names and Hollywood gloss, Clooney's film is strangely inert from the get go. By contrast, the Europa doc is a fascinating, gripping account of an often-overlooked episode in the second World War. 

To call the characters in The Monuments Men underdeveloped would be an understatement. They are barely sketches. Even in the hands of a talented ensemble, the painfully thin writing is nothing but a hindrance. A good third, maybe even half, of the film is meant to be something of a comedy, but the results are often as flat as day-old Coke. Matt Damon, always watchable, is essentially human cardboard. He's not helped by the way the film sidelines his subplot for long stretches, to the point where it feels like years have passed each time we check in on him.

Meanwhile, Bill Murray and Bob Balaban are stuck with unbearably forced comedic relief, none of which is helped by the painful amount of time between lines of dialogue. For a film that should have such significant stakes, it's somewhat astonishing how badly Clooney botches the pacing here. Motivations are nonexistent, as is character development. What we're left with is a middling slog of a history lesson with nothing left to offer either historically or cinematically. Moments that should land hard evoke mere shrugs, while the overall impact of the journey is reduced to, "art is kind of important, no?"

But the biggest offender of all is just how self-congratulatory the whole enterprise feels. A few lines about the importance of art are merely tossed off, and this alone is supposed to make the whole journey mean something Important. Yet when a character stares in awe at an abandoned Rodin sculpture, there's no reason to care or share in that moment of awe. This same level of laziness is present from the get-go, which makes all two hours of The Monuments Men crawl by through an interminable series of episodes. The Monuments Men make look the part, but, as a film, it has all of the worth of warm champagne without any bubbles. 

Grade: C-/D+

The Netflix Files: June 11-17

Don't Look Now (1973) dir. Nicolas Roeg

A steadily engrossing mystery/thriller, Roeg's film, starring Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie, builds its atmosphere more on grief and dread than on any sort of scares. The story of a couple trying to rebuild their lives in the Venice after their daughter drowns in an accident certainly takes its time to really get moving, though the pay off is ultimately worth it. Certain elements feel either stiff or dated - unfortunately this includes some of Sutherland's acting - but Roeg's method of capturing the scenes, often through delirious camera movements and off-kilter edits deserves credit. And even though the climactic scene almost threatens to throw the themes overboard in favor of shock value, it presents a memorably unsettling image that will make you question ever following someone in a red trench coat. 


Grade: B




OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006/2008) dir. Michel Hazanavicius 

Before storming awards season with The Artist, Michel Hazanvicius, Jean Dujardin, and Berenice Bejo were busy mimicking another time period and genre of film making. Itself a spoof of a series of spy novels, Nest of Spies is the director's resurrection of the slick spy flicks of the 50s and 60s. Mocking everything from the era's sexism and racism (Dujardin's protagonist is a firm believer that everything French and Western is the only way to go), the film is an enjoyable trifle, though it does outstay its welcome by about 10 minutes. Dujardin is once again perfectly cast, and Hazanavicius' mimicry of the old spy films is uncanny, but the overall feeling afterward is that this could have been a much sharper, wittier, and funnier film. 


Grade: B-/C+

The Terminator (1984) dir. James Cameron

No, this isn't the first time I've seen Cameron's landmark sci-fi action film, but it's been long enough that it seemed to merit a re-watch. Surprisingly, despite certain elements that either feel dated (the score), or reveal the film's budget limitations, the film remains an engaging and exceedingly taut piece of film making. Cameron's direction is uncluttered, and he invests the chase scenes and shoot outs with a bluntness that keeps them from devolving into exhausting or overwrought spectacle. The concern remains, somehow, on the characters, as limited as their arcs are, and it works. There are plenty of cheapshots one can take at Cameron's filmography, but nearly three decades later, The Terminator remains a definitive example of American action cinema at its best (on a tight budget, no less).


Grade: B+/A-

Review: "The Artist"

It wasn't long ago that Martin Scorcese's Hugo, which worked in a bit of film history landed in theaters. Now, just weeks later, Michel Hazanavicius' The Artist has arrived, taking place roughly three decades later in time. Hugo uses modern technology (including 3D) to pay tribute to cinema's earliest films, while The Artist uses mostly old technology and technique. Surprisingly, the old fashioned film winds up as the superior film, and by quite some margin (remember, however, that I'm part of the small contingent who thought Hugo was a mess...).

And when I say that The Artist is old-fashioned, I really mean it. Though I'll assume that it was edited on digital (when was the last time a film was cut by hand...?), Hazanavicius hasn't just made a movie about the silent era, he's made a movie that belongs in that era, and I mean that as a compliment. Even the opening credits are done exactly in the style of the late 20s and early 30s. The director's latest, which picked up the Best Actor prize for its leading man back at Cannes, centers on George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), a silent film superstar whose career is threatened by the dawn of sound.

The best thing about The Arist is that it keeps everything simple. The story is simple (it's basically Singin' in the Rain with a few big changes), the conflict is simple, and the emotions are simple. While this could have been the film's Achilles heel, Hazanavicius and company turn it into its greatest strength. The Artist is a sincere silent film, yet because it has been made just over 80 years since the start of the sound era, it has the ability to work as a standalone film and a tribute to those films. Dujardin perfectly captures Valentin's transition from a man on top of the world to a man faced with obsolescence practically over night. That he looks so much like a movie idol from the silent era only adds to the portrayal's effectiveness. Though he and co-star Berenice Bejo (also a delight to watch) speak many of their lines, only a few are transcribed on title cards, and Hazanavicius is wise in keeping the cards to a minimum. The actors' faces speak the emotions, even if we can't quite lip read everything they say.

But surely, this whole thing can't be silent, can it? Well, not exactly. There are a handful of sound effects in an excellent dream/nightmare sequence, and just a hint of spoken dialogue (where it comes in, I won't say). The only other sound, though, is Ludovic Bource's almost non-stop score. So despite bit parts played by John Goodman, James Cromwell, and Missi Pyle, the other true star of the film is Mr. Bource, whose music instills the whole film with a liveliness it may have completed lacked were the film 100% silent. The music is big, rich, and grand, and it always feels appropriate. In the two brief moments where the score vanishes, you instantly long for its return, and Hazanavicius knows exactly when to bring it back in. Guillaume Schiffman's rich, black and white cinematography is also aces, perfectly capturing the look and feel of old films without feeling creaky or stuffy.

So even though the story feels like it's about to wind down before introducing one last piece of drama, it's hard to go too hard on the film because Hazanavicius has pulled the whole thing off with such skill. Despite its simplicity, The Artist doesn't dumb itself down. The humor may be straightforward, but it feels authentic. Hazanavicius also handles the story's transition from light comedy to melodrama to the point where it feels seamless, rather than two films awkwardly stitched together, which easily could have been the case. Coupled with the score, and Dujardin and Bejo's performances, this result is one of the most delightful films of the year, as well as one of the best, capped off by a fantastic finale that ranks as one of the year's best scenes. So even though it may be silent, The Artist still manages to speak volumes.

Grade: A-