I'm not generally a fan of actors who portray ambiguous characters and don't speak much English, but Mads Mikkelsen is an exception. I loved him in After the Wedding, where he was so quiet on the outside, but just an explosion of emotion on the inside. A few weekends ago, I saw Open Hearts and The Green Butchers, both solid Danish imports as usual.
Open Hearts was extremely difficult for me to sit through. In true Dogme style (directed by Susanne Bier), there were no frills or softness. The story is abjectly sad and somewhat similar in storyline to Lars Von Trier's Breaking the Waves (I couldn't finish that movie either). A young man gets run over by a repentant mother and becomes paralyzed from the neck down. His fiance is devasted and starts screwing the guilty woman's husband...etc. Even though the movie could possibly have been even bleaker, the subject matter was just too weighty. Seeing Mads cry didn't help either.
As a frequent American moviegoer, I depend quite a bit on special effects and the soundtrack. Nonetheless, I also enjoy 'realistic' movies such as The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Open Hearts was just too bleak and the characters too flawed and realistic. Even though all of the characters are essentially good people who sometimes make bad decisions, there's a sheen of rawness and ugliness over some of the scenes. I was really frustrated by Mads's character as well, who's somewhat of a middle-aged pathetic pansy. However, His wife is wonderful and the real hero of the movie in my eyes, who tries to hold her family together even while she's falling apart. The other woman is annoying as well. On one hand, she deserves some sympathy after her boyfriend falls apart, but then she goes and messes up the doctor and his family's lives. I guess I despise characters who have their cake and eat it too.
The Green Butchers is a dark comedy and completely different. I enjoyed this movie as well. Without the pyrotechnics and profuse sentiment that virtually lurks in every American film, the story was simple and flowed nicely. Although Mads's character is arguably worse in this movie, he was so over the top that it was funny. He plays a psychopath butcher who dreams of opening his own shop and eventually does. This butcher has overflowing reservoirs of self-pity, a receding hairline that redefines receding, and a propensity to sweat more than any other animal alive. His partner in crime is a young man who's perpetually stoned and makes a habit of killing small animals and preserving their bones dinosaur style. For anyone who's curious, the stoner's the sane one. One never really sympathizes with Mads, but he's absolutely hilarious, melting in puddles of his own sweat.
This movie is charmingly simple and accepting of its good but not excellent status. Maybe I've just watched a spate of horrible American movies lately (Max Payne and Bangkok Dangerous), but it just seems that European movies flow much better. So many action movies, comedies, and even dramas feel choppy nowadays with crater-sized holes in plot development and nonexistent scripts rife with stupidity. While the camerawork is undeniably better (for $100M more), so many fundamentals are missing. I enjoy watching European movies because they are more character driven, quirky, and possess a solid storyline and above average dialogue. This is not to say that I hate American movies since most of my all time favorites are Hollywood produced. Granted, having a meaningful conversation onscreen might be more difficult than creating a 50 car pile-up at the entrance of a nuclear reactor with F-15s flying overhead, but please make an effort. It'll cost less, too.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
my chick-flicky weekend
I saw three non-chick-flicky chick-flicks Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday, the girls and I managed to squeeze in Vicky Cristina Barcelona between an orgy of dinner at Penang, wine, cheese, and chocolate at Tangerine (aka the suicide lounge), and duck salad and more chocolate at Buddakan around midnight. Self-indulgence, anyone?
Vicky Cristina Barcelona is well-made and quirky, though not terribly lovable. I would have to say that it turned out better than I expected, since I typically expect nothing from 'girly' films. Although I sometimes have issues with 'realistic' movies, I liked the soft colors and tempo of this one. The performances were extremely good, especially Penelope Cruz, who lit the movie on fire and stole every scene as the neurotic genius bent on self-destruction. I've never actually seen her in a movie before, so her stellar performance was quite shocking. I do like Scarlett Johansson, though not in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Her character, neither Vicky nor Barcelona, is too stereotypical as the whimsical, unstable, dabbler of modest talent. Even though Penelope Cruz was amazing, I have a special place in my heart for Vicky, who could have been me if I were only 5'9", skinny, white, and a student of Catalan history. Vicky is abrupt and slightly awkward, yet strangely vulnerable. Of all the characters, she was the most realistic and the only person who seemed to suffer the consequences for her mistakes.
The plot itself was rather loose and rambling, but charming until the last ten minutes when everything ended very abruptly and unsatisfactorily in true Vicky style. On the whole, I can't really categorize this film as happy or sad. I do want to visit Barcelona now, if just to marvel at Gaudi (I love his work, although I'm a fan of anything Art Nouveau and Mucha especially). I'll pass on the torrid affairs and flings. For a Woody Allen film, this one was actually quite sharp in comparison to some of his other inspirations. I was also introduced to Javier Bardem for the first time and enjoyed his quiet intensity immensely. He and Penelope Cruz make a lovely pair. It was a pleasant movie with a self-indulgent air, but by no means a masterpiece.
On Sunday, we kicked off with Indian for lunch and had dinner at Amada, which was superb. I'm completely ignorant when it comes to wine, but I tasted heaven on my tongue that evening with the combination of a glass of rioja and fig and prosciutto salad...let's not forget the lamb chops stuffed with goat cheese and fried bananas with maple syrup ice cream for dessert. Sometimes food does trump all else, especially when it's tapas.
We followed our extraordinary gastronomical experience with Pedro Almodovar's Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and Judd Apatow's Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I have fond memories of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, which I saw five years ago at the Brattle Theater in Harvard Square. The Brattle is such a wonderfully small independent theater with an awesome atmosphere and supportive audiences, which made the movie one of my favorites of all time. It was also the first non-mainstream movie I had ever seen, so it was personal and groundbreaking on so many levels.
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown is my favorite Almodovar movie. All of his films are extremely innovative, but I just don't identify with transsexuals and impregnating comatose women. Call me conservative. This early 1988 flick, although weird and crazy in its own way, is fundamentally about women and hysteria, which I can relate to. The first half is very slow and even slightly dull, then picks up steam and character in a hurry. To my surprise, I did not like this film nearly as much the second time around. So much of it hinges on suspense and unpredictability that I was not enthralled at all (and I was in a food coma).
The story is woven well enough, with a loose yet compact structure. The women are clearly the centerpiece and do a masterful job of it. One clever twist is that the man whom the story revolves around is barely given any screen time. It's all about women in their element, combining neuroses and hysteria with incredible strength and sense. Conclusion: A woman is a mass of walking contradictions. Another treat is seeing a young Antonio Banderas before he donned a cape and dancing shoes. It is a fun movie to watch, full of surprises and laughs.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall was not my cup of tea. In my view, Apatow isn't a genius and his students also aren't geniuses. Moreover, I don't like the ensemble cast that drifts through each of his films, especially Jonah Hill and Bill Hader to a lesser degree (I'm going to get mobbed tomorrow). Even Paul Rudd, whom I usually love, grates on my nerves as the chill stoner type. This movie didn't make it into my top 500 because I just had trouble relating. Jason Segel as the perpetually weepy nice guy who constantly gets shafted is all right, but not terribly lovable in my eyes. Kristen Bell wasn't spectacular, but maybe that's because I was expecting so much from her stint on Veronica Mars.
The plot was fine and even slightly original, but there was an insouciance and flatness about the movie that I couldn't get over. However, the scenery was very nice, especially Jason Segel's wardrobe. Mmmmm...I'm a sucker for baby blue button-down shirts and khakis or a casual suit with flip flops. I liked the ending, but everything leading up to it was pretty much just blah. Maybe I just don't appreciate comedies. Or just Apatow movies.
Vicky Cristina Barcelona is well-made and quirky, though not terribly lovable. I would have to say that it turned out better than I expected, since I typically expect nothing from 'girly' films. Although I sometimes have issues with 'realistic' movies, I liked the soft colors and tempo of this one. The performances were extremely good, especially Penelope Cruz, who lit the movie on fire and stole every scene as the neurotic genius bent on self-destruction. I've never actually seen her in a movie before, so her stellar performance was quite shocking. I do like Scarlett Johansson, though not in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Her character, neither Vicky nor Barcelona, is too stereotypical as the whimsical, unstable, dabbler of modest talent. Even though Penelope Cruz was amazing, I have a special place in my heart for Vicky, who could have been me if I were only 5'9", skinny, white, and a student of Catalan history. Vicky is abrupt and slightly awkward, yet strangely vulnerable. Of all the characters, she was the most realistic and the only person who seemed to suffer the consequences for her mistakes.
The plot itself was rather loose and rambling, but charming until the last ten minutes when everything ended very abruptly and unsatisfactorily in true Vicky style. On the whole, I can't really categorize this film as happy or sad. I do want to visit Barcelona now, if just to marvel at Gaudi (I love his work, although I'm a fan of anything Art Nouveau and Mucha especially). I'll pass on the torrid affairs and flings. For a Woody Allen film, this one was actually quite sharp in comparison to some of his other inspirations. I was also introduced to Javier Bardem for the first time and enjoyed his quiet intensity immensely. He and Penelope Cruz make a lovely pair. It was a pleasant movie with a self-indulgent air, but by no means a masterpiece.
On Sunday, we kicked off with Indian for lunch and had dinner at Amada, which was superb. I'm completely ignorant when it comes to wine, but I tasted heaven on my tongue that evening with the combination of a glass of rioja and fig and prosciutto salad...let's not forget the lamb chops stuffed with goat cheese and fried bananas with maple syrup ice cream for dessert. Sometimes food does trump all else, especially when it's tapas.
We followed our extraordinary gastronomical experience with Pedro Almodovar's Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown and Judd Apatow's Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I have fond memories of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, which I saw five years ago at the Brattle Theater in Harvard Square. The Brattle is such a wonderfully small independent theater with an awesome atmosphere and supportive audiences, which made the movie one of my favorites of all time. It was also the first non-mainstream movie I had ever seen, so it was personal and groundbreaking on so many levels.
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown is my favorite Almodovar movie. All of his films are extremely innovative, but I just don't identify with transsexuals and impregnating comatose women. Call me conservative. This early 1988 flick, although weird and crazy in its own way, is fundamentally about women and hysteria, which I can relate to. The first half is very slow and even slightly dull, then picks up steam and character in a hurry. To my surprise, I did not like this film nearly as much the second time around. So much of it hinges on suspense and unpredictability that I was not enthralled at all (and I was in a food coma).
The story is woven well enough, with a loose yet compact structure. The women are clearly the centerpiece and do a masterful job of it. One clever twist is that the man whom the story revolves around is barely given any screen time. It's all about women in their element, combining neuroses and hysteria with incredible strength and sense. Conclusion: A woman is a mass of walking contradictions. Another treat is seeing a young Antonio Banderas before he donned a cape and dancing shoes. It is a fun movie to watch, full of surprises and laughs.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall was not my cup of tea. In my view, Apatow isn't a genius and his students also aren't geniuses. Moreover, I don't like the ensemble cast that drifts through each of his films, especially Jonah Hill and Bill Hader to a lesser degree (I'm going to get mobbed tomorrow). Even Paul Rudd, whom I usually love, grates on my nerves as the chill stoner type. This movie didn't make it into my top 500 because I just had trouble relating. Jason Segel as the perpetually weepy nice guy who constantly gets shafted is all right, but not terribly lovable in my eyes. Kristen Bell wasn't spectacular, but maybe that's because I was expecting so much from her stint on Veronica Mars.
The plot was fine and even slightly original, but there was an insouciance and flatness about the movie that I couldn't get over. However, the scenery was very nice, especially Jason Segel's wardrobe. Mmmmm...I'm a sucker for baby blue button-down shirts and khakis or a casual suit with flip flops. I liked the ending, but everything leading up to it was pretty much just blah. Maybe I just don't appreciate comedies. Or just Apatow movies.
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