The Humbling (2014)
This gem may have slipped past you when it first came out several years ago. It's one of a group of recent films based on Philip Roth's late novels and, like them, it deals with mortality, the loss of creative powers, and other sobering matters. I think of these as Philip Roth's "winter stories." Barry Levinson refused big studio funding so he could direct this film his way; armed with a shrewd script by Buck Henry and the acting chops of Al Pacino in what's arguably his best performance in years, Levinson filmed the movie on a low budget in his own house, but the result is far better than any home movie. Pacino doesn't scream and yell as has been his wont of late, but is admirably restrained, low-key, and thoroughly convincing as an aging actor who's convinced that he's lost his talent and gets involved with a much younger woman. (It's clear that Pacino has not lost his talent.) He's likeable, sympathetic and moving, and the film is funny in a quirky way that's unlike the factory-made blockbuster laughs of most Hollywood comedies made these days. It has quite a few good moments and interesting characters, and I enjoyed it a lot. There's an undeniably melancholy element to The Humbling, but the humor saves it. The young woman, adroitly played by Greta Gerwig, is a lesbian. Pacino converts her.
Batman Begins (2005)
It's quite a leap from the diminished powers of an aging Philip Roth hero to the near-superhero powers of Christopher Nolan's retooled version of Batman. It's an impressive example of a yet another quintessentially American story filmed with a largely British cast and British director in England. (For yet another example, see Michael Grandage's 2016 film Genius about legendary book editor Maxwell Perkins relationship with Thomas Wolfe, Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald.) The gradually developed backstory is seductive and well done, especially if Ninja warriors are your fetish, but unfortunately we get to the main plot, about bad guys trying to destroy Gotham City by poisoning the water. It's something right out of the old 1966 Batman TV series. Yes, stunning photography and state-of-the-art special effects (state-of-the-art a decade ago, at least) dazzle the mind but also numb it, as the predictably "big ending" fills the screen with explosions and cars and planes and action and buildings and elevated subways collapsing with smoke and flames everywhere. Much in the film is very good -- Batman's costume and cowel look more like the Batman of the comics than ever before -- but the one element that made the comic books so entertaining was Batman's ability as a master detective able to figure out diabolical mysteries. (Remember, Batman made his debut in 1938 in Detective Comics.) In this Batman film, as in so many of the previous ones, only his physical prowess is on display. Batman's allure has always been his mixture of both physical and mental strength. I enjoyed the film but wanted more. This view maybe heretical to the many Batman and Christopher Nolan fans out there, but I'll grant them that Christian Bale is a suitably dark Dark Knight, and Michael Caine might be best Alfred yet. Or at least a close tie with the dapper and resourceful Alan Napier, a buckler not just for the 1960s but for the ages.
Night Watch (1973)
The early 1970s was a rather good time for suspense films and thrillers. Perhaps it was the disappointed utopian dreams of the 1960s that led so many moviegoers to embrace nightmares in the theater. Alfred Hitchcock's Frenzy, Joseph Mankiewicz's Sleuth, William Friedkin's The Exorcist, and a bevy of chilling horror films from British film studios like Tales from the Crypt and The House That Dripped Blood helped audiences wrestle with their demons as America seem to be sliding from the Great Society into the great abyss.
In Night Watch the deserted house next door to the elegant house lived in by Ellen Wheeler (Elizabeth Taylor) seems to be dripping blood too. Ellen insists that she's seen first one, then two people being brutally stabbed to death in the house next door as she helplessly watched from her window. Ellen has recently recovered from a mental illness , not to mention that the killings occurred during violent thunderstorms which obscured her view, so naturally her husband and best friend, played respectively by Laurence Harvey and Billy Whitelaw, are a bit skeptical. After all, a thorough search of the house by Scotland Yard has revealed no foul play. Is Ellen telling the truth? Has she imagined the murders? No spoilers here.
Nearly every critic dismissed Night Watch when it was released in 1973, characterizing the plot as "tired" or "predictable," offering praise only for Elizabeth Taylor's clothes. Even the usually reliable Leonard Maltin gives the film only two and a half stars in his Movie Guide. Nonetheless, all three actors are outstanding in this neglected thriller, though Taylor's histrionics can become wearying at times. Though not as witty and sure-footed as thrillers like Sleuth or Deathtrap, the story cunningly leads you up and down various garden paths and then brilliantly fakes you out at the end. It's been awhile since the ending of a movie took me completely by surprise (I guessed one piece of the puzzle early on but missed the big picture) and done it, or shall I say whodonit, in a thoroughly logical way. A large degree of credit goes to Lucille Fletcher, author of the play the film is based on, as well as the author of the famous radio play and film Sorry, Wrong Number. She also happened to be Mrs. Bernard Herrmann, composer of course of the scores for Citizen Kane, Vertigo, and countless other classics. One can only imagine what their home life was like. (They divorced in 1948.)
No comments:
Post a Comment