Monday, September 24, 2007

GOTTA SEE IT # 15 - "OFF THE BLACK"

“OFF THE BLACK”

Starring: Trevor Morgan, Nick Nolte, Sonia Feigelson, Rosemarie DeWitt, Timothy Hutton, Sally Kirkland, Noah Fleiss, Johnathan Tchaikovsky, Michael Higgins.
Written by: James Ponsoldt
Directed by: James Ponsoldt
Colour – 2006
91 mins.
U.S.A.

Usually I spend the first paragraph of these “Gotta See It” postings rambling on about this or that before, finally, getting to the task at hand. This time, though, I’m in no mood to ramble (not a bad title for a country song, by the way) – this is a damn good movie that’s well worth 91 minutes of your life. So there!

The story of a surrogate father-son relationship between miserable, aging, alcoholic small time baseball umpire, Ray Cook (Nick Nolte) and sensitive and promising young pitcher, Dave Tibbel (Trevor Morgan), OTB is as quiet as a dugout in December and possesses the kind of small movie miracles that one wishes were as plentiful as pop ups on opening day.

The first scene, at once perfectly symbolic and efficiently dramatic, sees our young pitcher, Dave, facing a 3-2 count with the bases loaded in a tie game. He looks shaky on the mound before delivering the decisive pitch. A dramatic pause follows before umpire Ray Cook calls it a ball. Much later, Ray will admit to Dave that in that pause he almost called the pitch a strike. This line refers to the nature of their relationship, which is a moving illustration of the idea that it is often easier to seek what you’re missing in an old relationship, not by repairing it, but by starting a new one.

Years pile on, one after another, and boundaries and attitudes to one another build up. A whole list of things you can and cannot do with one another or can and cannot say takes root almost without one knowing. Problems that should’ve been addressed when they were manageable, over time, seem too overwhelming to address and consequently, feel impossible to overcome. In the clean slate of a new relationship, though, you can right all of that or at least you think you can. Owing to his age, Dave is clearly unaware of what’s really at work between him and Ray, and, therefore, is incapable of seeing that the sole purpose of this relationship is ultimately to point to the deficiencies of a much more important one. Its’ energy directed at the wrong target, or, more appropriately, in the context of this film, a pitch thrown over the wrong plate.

The back and forth between Morgan and Nolte rings true - from a late night encounter that almost proves tragic to an eventual comedic interaction that leads into personal revelations which deepens their bond. Managing to convincingly convey emotional immaturity, naiveté, and a genuine feeling of being intimidated by the worn and wounded presence of Nolte’s Ray, Morgan pieces together a solid, non-showy performance which captures, in a fresh way, youth in all of its’ awkward glory. Here’s hoping he doesn’t become the next big thing and disappear down the rabbit hole of his own ego. Fingers crossed.

Now, Nolte was born to play Ray Cook. He looks and sounds the part and, somehow, is able to carry it all off without overplaying. Blessed with that unusual and remarkable ability to seem to be in many places at the same time, Nolte gives Ray Cook the respect he deserves. He doesn’t play him as a loser, but as a man who recognizes that, often in life, the battle was never there to be won. It appeared to be fought, yes, but, more than anything, experienced, learned from and applied to other parts of ones’ life.

Kudos to writer/director Ponsoldt, who, though at times lays it on a little to thick with his dialogue, ultimately fashions a mature and moving sketch of the way people often occupy a “stand-in” role each other’s lives. And a tip of the hat to Tim Orr whose cinematography is as calm and beautifully naturalistic as it was in David Gordon Green’s underrated “All the Real Girls.”

Ah, baseball, a sport I have next to no interest in provides some clever metaphors for a film that suggests a real talent in the making in James Ponsoldt. Let’s hope he continues to hit the black with his future films.

Monday, September 17, 2007

GOTTA SEE IT # 14 - "MR. HULOT'S HOLIDAY"


“MR. HULOT’S HOLIDAY”

Starring: Jacques Tati, Nathalie Pascaud, Micheline Rolla, Valentine Camax, Louis Perrault, Andre Dubois, Lucien Fregis, Raymond Carl, Rene Lacourt, Marguerite Gerard.
Written by: Jacques Tati, Henri Marquet, Jacques Lagrange, Pierre Aubert
Directed by: Jacques Tati
B & W – 1954
85 mins.
France

It was a dark, drizzly day in the late ‘80s and I was sick and, consequently, home from school. That was unusual - not spending a day home from school, but being sick while doing it. The week before, I had driven my father’s Oldsmobile from one end of Toronto to the other, and finally found a video store that carried a certain "comedy classic." I quickly learned to be suspicious of any hype surrounding films that had long ago flickered out the last frames of their original theatrical run. Those suspicions split, and split fast, as I sat, in stuffy-nosed awe, gleefully enjoying one playfully elaborate comedic moment after another. Though devoid of plot, Mr. Hulot’s Holiday is a treat. As treats go, it’s the healthy kind. It’s more carrot then candy. In other words, it’s the kind of treat you feel better for having consumed.

Owing its’ spirit and structure to the silent film comedies of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, MHH was, in its’ time, already past its’ due date. So, it’s old fashioned, but not entirely derivative. It tips its’ hat to the old masters while proving itself worthy of its’ own unique place in the history of slapstick comedies. It is graceful, witty, beautifully and artfully shot and scored and even has a point of view that informs the greater bulk of the gags.

The story? Well, there isn’t much of one other than to say that there’s this odd fellow named Monsieur Hulot and his free spirited ways clash with the uptight folks vacationing at a resort somewhere on the coast of France. And that’s all the story you’re going to need - trust me on this one. The man playing Hulot, by the way, is Jacques Tati. He was a master pantomime artist and creator of slowly evolving, cleverly constructed gags. There are several stand-out set pieces. One gag, involving Tati looking for a ping pong ball in amongst a group of card players, is a thing of beauty. Another, where Tati’s rickety car breaks down near a cemetery, features a brilliant transposition that he pulls off with effortless ease.

If you, like I, were raised on crass comedies where most sight gags involved one guy’s foot and another guy’s crotch, then you’ll probably be a bit mystified by the amount of attention and respect Tati brings to physical/visual comedy. I mean, the guy turns it into frickin’ ballet! You also might find the leisurely pace of MHH a problem. Instead of blindly racing from one cheap gag to the next in hopes that something sticks, Tati takes his sweet time – clearly confident in his abilities and clearly delighting in not only a bona fide gag sequence, but subtle, amusing observations as well.

Tati would go on to make only a few more films, but, with this, his first “Hulot” feature, he cemented his reputation as one of cinema’s truly unique artists.

Monday, September 10, 2007

GOTTA SEE IT # 13 - "NIGHTMARE ALLEY"


“NIGHTMARE ALLEY”

Starring: Tyrone Power, Joan Blondell, Coleen Gray, Helen Walker, Taylor Holmes, Mike Mazurki, Ian Keith.
Written by: William Lindsay Gresham (novel), Jules Furthman (screenplay)
Directed by: Edmond Goulding
B & W – 1947
110 mins.
U.S.A.

Ambition – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen or heard that word used in a positive context. Actually, correction, I can – 1,750,356 times. Okay, I may be off by a few. Judging by those honest to goodness numbers, it’s often assumed that if someone is ambitious they are to be respected. It doesn’t take long to come up with dozens of examples of folks you wished had no desires beyond living a quiet, peaceful, absolutely average life. Talented Carny huckster Stanton Carlisle (Tyrone Power), plying his trickster trade in this is seedy stunner from 1947, is one such sad case.

Opening in the colourful carnival world of cons, strong men and geeks, Nightmare Alley charts Stanton’s journey from lowly mind-reading act assistant to high society clairvoyant to messianic swindler in stunning dramatic strokes. Ironically, his first act of ambition is accidental – as if he was operating unconsciously or, as is more in keeping with the flavour of the film, mysterious outer forces were at work to assure him of his greedy goal.

Throughout the film, the obvious fakery of Stanton’s con is balanced by some genuine and unexplainable forces – some for which Stanton, himself, is responsible. This apparent contradiction makes the film a much more interesting and complex ride then it otherwise would have been. It becomes a twisted tale of a man practicing a fake version of a very real phenomenon, which, in the end, claims him as a victim. Stanton knows he’s a fake in his craft, but his superstitious nature causes him to believe in the craft nonetheless. That is his true downfall - a clever and deeply ironic one at that.

Although somewhat flawed by what usually plagues a lot of otherwise really fine classic films – overly obvious dialogue, stiff acting and a compromised ending – Nightmare Alley nevertheless amazes with its’ innate understanding of human wants and needs, the beautifully inky blacks of its’ fine chiaroscuro cinematography by Lee Garmes (Forever and a Day, Lady in a Cage), and several stunning set-pieces. One such set-piece is so sad, so soaked with human longing and desperation and casual cruelty that it caught me off guard – as if I was convinced that no movie could so easily and artfully transcend the Hayes Code to present such a wrenching exhibition of human depravity.

One of the top Hollywood film noirs, Nightmare Alley is a cautionary tale, if there ever was one, and a fine example of a typecast Hollywood star, Tyrone Power, stretching his talents to reveal a depth which had previously gone unnoticed.