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Disclaimer (Read me)

derek wyman — Thu, 31 Aug 2006 03:48:51 +0000

This page is dedicated to assorted ramblings about film. The pieces may or may not actually review the films that they discuss. They are in no way meant to recommend that you see the film, nor am I going to try to steer you away from something that you really want to see. The films I write about are just as likely to be something I saw on television at three in the morning as they are to be new releases. They may offend some, and they may be poorly written; they may even be incomprehensible to those of you that don’t know me, personally. I may indeed give away surprise endings and, if pressed to do so, I may write about a film that I haven’t seen. That being said, shall we proceed?

The Paradox That Is Hotel Living

Michael — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 19:55:53 +0000

The subject for this entry is admittedly broad, as there are tens of things that are paradoxes regarding spending extended time in a hotel. However, today I am merely focusing on one aspect – the thickness of the walls.

For whatever reason hotel walls are usually fairly thin, and you end up hearing things from the next room. These could range from the shower to the alarm clock to the adult movie they are watching to the adult movie that they are filming. Infiltrating noises don’t bother me too much, but I understand that it is an annoyance.

However, what I don’t understand is how the room manages to not let any smells escape. Shouldn’t the permeability be the same for sound as for stench? I took on the American Standard after lunch today, and the room was not habitable after. It lingered, and lingered, until I finally put down my makeshift t-shirt handkerchief and busted open the room window. A 33 degree breeze was a small price to pay for freedom. However even that took a while to work.

This isn’t an isolated case, either. One of my coworkers was complaining about the same thing, saying that his work zone hadn’t exactly cleared itself prior to the maid coming into the room. Another good one is wet socks. A room that gets that odor is done for.

Sigh, I probably should have just taken my laptop to the lobby. That, or just gone to the lobby bathroom. Too bad there are only 2 more nights to make decisions like this.

Olfactorily yours, -Michael

Stranger Than Fiction (Early draft)

derek wyman — Sun, 12 Nov 2006 06:10:20 +0000

Stranger Than Fiction
Written by Zach Helm and Directed by Marc Forster
Starring Will Ferrell, Emma Thompson and Maggie Gyllenhaal

Derek Wyman sits in his car writing this review on a legal pad by the light of the one functioning street lamp in the parking lot of the movie theater. He is trying to get the breadth of it on paper before it evaporates, or worse before it evolves into drivel. Here he is protected by the distance from his life, once he gets home that protection is gone and the movie is reduced to a distraction.

Films are flawed by design. The amount of kismet needed for a movie to succeed is almost always unattainable. Talent is much rarer than ambition or opportunity and film is a medium dependent on talent at so many disciplines that, at best, a few movies are great despite a lack of talent present at any one or many of the aspects of the production. There are far more people with the drive and money to make films than there are people talented enough to make good ones.

A novel is the output of a single artist and in such is good or bad mainly due to the talent of that one individual, or in the case of Death and Taxes by Kay Eiffel, the ability of that individual to do what needs to be done ignoring the effect that deed will have on anyone else. This creates a promising premise to seed Stranger Than Fiction. It is a consumable if disconnected metaphor comparing a novel to life. Or, I suppose a juxtaposition of life to a movie.

As telling as anything in his persona is Derek’s desire to see more than is really there, in both life and film. But, as he is a participant in both, does it not follow that if he can see it than it indeed is present? One needs to be careful not to overlook the end consumerÃ¢’s part in any art form. If you build it and no one sees it, then does it exist at all? If no one gets the joke, is it still clever? If no one cries at the end of Act III, was it still a tragedy?

The one unavoidable rule to tragedy is that the protagonist must die, and it must follow some type of heroism. It need not immediately lead to his undoing, but in the case of Harold Crick, it was absolutely necessary or as a character (and as a man) he would simply evaporate.

This is where the metaphor lies, a writer writing a story about a writer that doesn’t have the ability to do what needs to be done, who has lost her heart to commercialism or just to humanity (depending on your personal level of cynicism.). Is it the character (the writer) that fails or the screenwriter himself that loses his way?

Or, Derek ponders, is it the viewer that fails to see the light.

One of the hurdles this movie faces (and has been addressed quite well by Director Marc Forster) is the misconception by many that is was written by Charlie Kaufman. But, while it’s structure certainly has a Kaufmanesque feel to it, Kaufman’s movies are all about the plot and this movie is all about the characters. And that is where it ultimately falls apart.

The other unfortunate comparison is with Paul Thomas Anderson’s “Punch Drunk Love”, which was a movie that tried so hard to say something that is bludgeoned the viewer with such an uncompromising tragedy that it was nearly unwatchable. This movie tries to make us smile; it gives us the happy ending that we all want to see in great tragedies, but know is not possible. It’s one of literature’s great paradoxes. We want the hero to get what he deserves, but if he does than he is no longer heroic.

The best scene in “Stranger Than Fiction” finds Harold bringing flours to Maggie. It is the one great gesture in his life and he can only come up with the very uncomfortable “I want you” as his closer. It is cringe inducing but honest. As I watched the scene, I saw it as a contemporary, in tone not time, to the scene from “Say Anything” where John Cusak holds the boombox over his head, blaring “In Your Eyes”. That is one on the greatest moments in film history because we have so much invested in John CusakÃ¢’s character; he is a hero, he is living for us, doing what we don’t have the stomach or substance to do ourselves. But that film was a comedy and this one needs to be a tragedy. Harold Crick needs to be a hero, he is much too much like us. And while it is, indeed, in our guts to cheer for him, it is not in our hearts to care about him.

Derek pauses at the pad, deciding whether or not analysis of the plot actually holds any relevance. Does it matter that the movie, regardless of which ending you assume, lacks the supposed irony that would make the novel that centers it so substantial? Is there anything to be gained by pointing out that the Ã¢â‚¬Å“watchÃ¢â‚¬Â as a plot device is shallow and rather disconnected from the theme and tone of the story.

It is simply enough to write that the movie is both brilliant and broken. It succeeds in the depths of it’s own flaws. Which maybe is exactly the point. Or, more likely, I am reading more into it than is really there.

But, that is not only the viewers prerogative, but his responsibility.

Author’s note:

As much as the arc in this piece requires it to be have written in that parking lot, in the pouring rain, it was not. In reality I am writing it now, at my desk eating a slice of blueberry pie. I would like to have done the heroic thing and this review would likely to have made more sense if it had been written while the flow of the movie was still fresh in my head. But, for better or for worse I am not quite ready to commit to the early exit that all heroes must face. Instead I am still holding on to the hope that somewhere out there Maggie is waiting for me to bring her flours.

It’s the return of the…..

derek wyman — Sat, 04 Nov 2006 03:03:52 +0000

Alright, I know I overuse that tag line, but it seems fitting this time. After many years of procrastination, I am committed to bringing back my Film Review section. And, in a disgustingly transparent attempt at seeming genuine, my first steps in this re-endeavor will be to repost a few of the very old essays from the old site(s).

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Somewhat unfinished)

derek wyman — Sat, 20 Mar 2004 05:12:30 +0000

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Directed by Michel Gondry
Starring Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet

First things first, the movie was wonderful, but the ending broke the parable.

If it had ended with the two of them in the car and without all the Kirsten Dunst mailing out the letters crap, it would have held together much better. But, as it was constructed it still succeeded in creating a perfect paradox.

On one side you have the romantic notion of true love; two people who are meant to be together, proceed to completely (literally, in this case) lose each other and then find each other again.

On the flip side of this paradox is the fact that you have two people that are miserable together and then are drawn back together to relive the misery from the start.

The lesson is that this parallels what most of us end up doing, falling in love with someone we are hopelessly incompatible with and then spending the rest of our lives chasing after people who are similar to the incompatible one. Of course, in this case it actually is the same person.

As it stands, with the produced ending, we are left with a much more traditional “movie”. And as viewers we are put through the horrible ugliness of the two of them reliving the break up tapes, which is heartbreaking.

The third act of the movie was something beautiful, with him chasing after the disappearing memories of her, it is a shame we are not left with that feeling instead.

Charlie Kaufman is very important, he is taking the media to a new place, a place that no other medium can go to as effectively. Film has been searching out it’s place in the arts for 100 years and several periods have seen film take advantage of it’s unique advantages over stage, novels, poetry et al.

From Technicolor, to special effects to animation, the auteurs of the medium have taken story telling to places that weren’t accessible on the stage or on the page, but CK, along with a few others (Paul Thomas Anderson, for one, comes to mind) is taking advantage of the ability to cohesively meld conscious action with subconscious thoughts.

This is hard to do on stage, but on film it is perfectly coherent and effective. We don’t need to be told that this scene is real or this scene is a dream, it is all spelled out visually, which allows the story teller to just keep on with the story, seamlessly blending all the levels without pausing to let us breathe.

Bedazzled (2000)

derek wyman — Thu, 26 Oct 2000 03:05:57 +0000

Bedazzled (2000)
Directed by Harold Ramis
Starring Brendan Frasier and Elizabeth Hurley

Admittingly, I went into this movie with reservations. The original 1968 version, starring Dudley Moore and Peter Cook, is among my favorite films.

The first thing that struck me, remains the most important aspect of the film: Elizabeth Hurley is hot, simple as that. If you add in the attraction of her being the devil AND being THAT beautiful, it would be hard to give the film a negative review. This is not only the best thing about this movie, but it, indeed, is an improvement over the premise of the first. Unfortunately, that is where the total sum of the enjoyment in this film lies.

For those unaware of the premise, it’s very simple. The devil offers up 7 wishes to a mortal. In exchange, the mortal signs over his soul for eternal damnation. This setup immediately calls into effect the “Groundhog Day” rule. Formally known as the “Invisible Man” rule, it officially was changed due to the fact that it has been decades since anyone came close to getting the invisibility cliche right. The rule applies to all films that offer up a common fantasy; to be successful, the film must have characters that respond to the fantasy as we, the audience, would respond. Groundhog day was very successful in this aspect. Given the chance to live a single day over and over again, the choices that Bill Murray’s character made did a fine job of exploring the very opportunities that the audience would have partaken of, if they had been given the chance. Bedazzled, in this modern incarnation, flops in this aspect.

In the original, Dudley Moore’s wishes were doomed for two reasons. The first is reproduced in the newer film; the devil takes his wishes verbatim and uses the vagueness of the language to ruin the fantasies. The 1968 version also took advantage of the principle that even if one receives what one wants, it isn’t always going to be a pleasant marriage. Ramis’ version utterly removes this aspect from the fable, leaving a cold hollowness to the moral fiber of the story. The devil is just being evil is a bit thin of a premise to carry a movie.

The biggest distraction, though, was the poor visualization of the doomed wishes. Strangely, all the pieces felt outdated. One scene, in which Frasier’s character is fulfilling his dream to be powerful and wealthy, is set in the mansion of a Columbian drug lord. This would have worked much better in the early eighties and really doesn’t carry any presence into the new century. A second wish leads us to a very seventies feeling beach scene, which again feels more out of place than the 60′s fashions of the first movie would today.

A third wish leads us on a funny, although very base basketball fantasy, primarily designed to spark interest in the trailer. And a final wish, involving a little twist of sexual orientation, provides us with the movies funniest scenes. It also gives Frasier a character he can have some fun with, which is something that is lacking from most of the movie.
Even the devil’s “lair”, a nightclub, has a lot more to do with the 90′s than with year 2000. Nevertheless, had these scenes been played out well, the odd choices wouldn’t have fatally harmed the movie .

But, the truth is, for more than the obvious reasons, Hurley’s devil was the only character that carried our interest even slightly. In the first movie, the devil provided a very tempting picture of Hell, if for no other reason, to distract Dudley Moore from the true nature of his pact, offering up, among other tasty treats, Racquel Welch. Hurley’s devil can offer nothing more inviting than a room full of people slapping Frasier on the back and chanting his name like he had just hit the winning homerun at the company softball game.

In the first film, Moore’s character was a loser, but very much due to his performance, he was an endearing character. Frasier’s character is annoying, unaware and a little too eager to trade his soul for a date with a girl he has never even really met. A girl, that in every scene proves herself to be nothing more than a brainless tramp.
Which brings me to my final complaint. This new telling comes to an end so empty, it occurred to me that Frasier may have been better off in Hell.

The first movie centered around the fact that the loser pinned the whole idea of being content and successful on being with the girl of his dreams. The irony was, of course, that the girl actually liked him as he was, a pathetic fry cook. In Ramis’ version this irony is replaced by the following ridiculous scenario:

(1) the girl doesn’t even know he exists

(2) when, after learning his life-lessons, Frasier has the courage to approach her, she rejects him

(3) to manufacture a happy-ending, the filmaker’s have Frasier meet a girl that looks just like the girl of his dreams. If that ain’t cold and unfulfilling, than what is????

Did I mention how great Hurley looked?

Fight Club

derek wyman — Wed, 22 Sep 1999 04:35:58 +0000

Fight Club
Written by Jim Uhls and Directed by David Fincher
Starring Edward Norton and Brad Pitt

There is an enormous amount of wealth in the world. But, 99% of the wealth is held by no more than two or three percent of the population. If you looked closely at the financial worth of the remaining 97% of the people, you would find that almost all of it can be expressed in physical terms. The average working-class person has a home, a car, some cash deposited in a local Savings and Loan and a well-documented retirement plan. The total extent of his Virtual Worth, that is various equity investments, stock options in major corporations and serious cash deposits in global financial institutions, is very small. It may account for 5% of his total worth. In other words, he could liquidate everything he owns and come reasonably close to maintaining his net worth.

The elite class, that is the 2-3% I mentioned, function at a dynamically different ratio of net worth to liquidity. This means that when you take Bill Gates’ homes, cars and jewelry away, he still has hundreds of millions of dollars in Virtual Worth. This isn’t a concern for him, as things are, because he could very easily turn all of these non-physical possessions into cash rather easily. But what if he couldn’t? What if there was no way of discerning who actually held one million shares of Microsoft stock and who was on the red side of one million dollars of corporate debt?

Here’s where David Fincher’s new film comes into this dialogue. It has been theorized that if the financial district on New York was destroyed, then chaos would ensue. The theory being that the amount of time and money that would be necessary to reconstruct all the worlds finances would make it an impossible venture. The amount of “wealth” in the world would not have changed, but very little of this wealth can be easily tied to actual physical objects (you didn’t think that every dollar bill was still backed up by a bar of gold at Fort Worth, did you?). This would leave the elite class in a real quandary. How do they divvy up all that Virtual cash. The rest of the population would be, in comparison, unaffected.

Fight Club takes a slightly different view of the result, putting too much emphasis on the positive effect that this would have on the financial well-being of the working class, it would be only a gain in the fact that it wasn’t a loss. But it does follow, in either scenario, that the ninety-seven percenters would have a gaping window in which to effect change of the power structure of our society.

The film, unfortunately, underplays this theme. In the actual plot events that occur it is proven that the working class, even with the current financial structure still in place, controls the society. It is only when this class (the waiters, the beat cops, the janitors) works together that it has any real political power, though, and therefore is usually invisible to us.

But this philosophy is only an underscore to the theme and tone of the film. Fincher concentrates on the infatuation with death and the obviousness of life that his characters face. We live only to avoid dying and therefore do not live at all. A fascinating diatribe, but a bit overplayed in film recently.

Fight Club does continue a positive trend in film, in that it is strikingly funny, while not being a frivolous comedy. Much as American Beauty was able to make us laugh out loud without bailing from it’s construct, this film has some of the most hilarious scenes of the year and yet maintains it’s tone throughout.

I reluctantly must judge this film not on what it is, though, but by what it could have been. It is a very good film, Fincher is a brilliant visual director, but it could have been something different. It delves into places that most contemporary stories are oblivious to, but then it doesn’t completely commit to them. It is a minor failing, in comparison to the disposable distractions that monopolize the screens at the multiplexes, but with great ambitions come even larger expectations and, as I watched the credits, I felt that Fight Club left me a little hungry.

The Sixth Sense

derek wyman — Sat, 07 Aug 1999 04:07:38 +0000

The Sixth Sense
Written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan
Starring Bruce Willis and Haley Joel Osment

There are rules for these things. The pieces must fit the puzzle. So many “thrillers” are all end-pieces with nothing to hold the jigsaw together. The Sixth Sense follows the rules, somewhere between childlike obedience and fanatical reverence and still manages to defy the most jaded moviegoer’s sleuthery.

The hints are numerous and, more impressively, blatant. Three minutes into the prologue, we know what the great secret is, and yet it slips through our fingers. Maybe we are a little distracted by Bruce’s hair or maybe we are just waiting for the kid’s performance to degenerate into the over emotional “look at me, I’m ACTING” shtick that has become so prevalent in today’s films. But, as sure as this child star avoids that, so do our attempts at unraveling this mystery.

The story is brilliantly spun, compelling and utterly satisfying. The filmmaker knew what this movie was going to be about. This may seem to be a simple thing, but, unfortunately, most thrillers only know what the setup is and who is going to be left standing ate the end. How they get from point A to point Z is only of passing interest to them. This film is all about points B, C and X.

What I was reminded of, as I was leaving the theater, was the Branaugh film Dead Again. While that film didn’t completely work, it was made up of fascinating pieces, each one fitting into the overall story. On paper, it probably was successful, as a movie it suffered from some questionable choices by the actors involved and a certain uneasiness to its tone. But, it tried to give us a great thriller. The Sixth Sense attempts the same and succeeds.

Somewhere along the line, Hollywood decided it was necessary to dumb-down all of its movies. This particularly damaged the thriller genre. Comedies can be dumb and still be funny. Action movies generally benefit from an overall simplification of their stories. But for a thriller to provide the big payoff, at the end, there needs to be cleverness. For a number of years, what has been passed off as cleverness, is more commonly known as deceitfulness; lie to the audience for ninety minutes, give them a series of misleading clues and then, pull out the rug in the final act. Pin the gun, the fingerprints and the motive on the sister and then give us the brother as the killer. Effective, in it’s own shitty way, but, and I can’t stress this enough, not fair! Rules, there are rules for these things.

Then came Basic Instinct and the game plan changed. Now, instead of lying to the viewer, you just need to confuse the hell out of them. Give everyone a gun, a motive and a flimsy moral standing and just pick a name out of the hat at the end. Oh, and did I mention, throw in a lot of sex and cops-gone-bad.

This film is a throwback, I guess. Honest, intriguing, and a huge amount of fun. Everyone that leaves the theater is asking themselves the same question, how could I have missed it?

The answer is easy, Hollywood decided, a long time ago, that you weren’t smart enough to follow a complex story. And sometime after that we all started living up to their expectations. Much gratitude to the filmmakers that still take a chance on our ability to think for ourselves.