A recap of new films I’ve been screening lately …
Toy Story 3 (2010, Directed by Lee Unkrich)
Invariably, when I compile my top ten film list at the end of each year, I find myself including nine brooding, violent reflections on the human condition (see No Country for Old Men, There Will be Blood, The Hurt Locker, etc.) and one cuter-than-thou offering staring fish, rats, robots, or a cranky senior citizen with a bunch of balloons. I have previously stated that “Pixar” will be mentioned in future film history textbooks alongside such essential auteurs as Hitchcock, Fellini, and Kurosawa as the greatest cinematic craftsmen of their generations. How Pixar manages time and time again to turn this cynical, self-proclaimed cineaste into a blubbering child welling up with tears at the slightest emotional provocation is one of the greatest mysteries in contemporary film.
Indeed, I reveled in the pure culinary joy of Ratatouille. I admired the socio-environmental consciousness of WALL-E. I sat in awe as Sergei Eisenstein’s bourgeoning theories about montage reached their artistic apotheosis in last year’s Up. I have to say, though, that Toy Story 3 might just go down as the greatest achievement in Pixar Studio’s already impressive portfolio.
The latest installment in the Toy Story franchise works so dang well because it seems simultaneously familiar and new. We know most of the principal players from the previous two films in the trilogy. However, the filmmakers push the characters to the precipice of danger. The stakes at the end of the movie have never been greater for our heroic playthings. We know in our heart of hearts that everything will come out okay in the end. But, the threat of not only a creepy, dictatorial purple bear based uncannily on the warden from Cool Hand Luke but also a massive conflagration ripped right from the pages of Dante’s Inferno keeps us truly on the edges of our seats. Our favorite toys have ended up in a prison escape film and their entire livelihoods are at risk.
The success of Toy Story 3 is not just technical. As any moviegoer who found himself shedding a tear or two (or three) near the film’s bittersweet denouncement will tell you, this thing works on a deeply emotional level as well. I found myself surprisingly and profoundly moved by the picture’s implications. Mental flashbacks to the treasured story Velveteen Rabbit and my priceless childhood companion Bingo Bear caused me to reflect on the nature of childhood and innocence. We are stirred by Toy Story 3’s final moments not because we are sad to see some toys go, but rather because we understand that Andy, our human protagonist, is getting ready to lose something that he will never get back again. In our media-saturated society, it is comforting to know that there’s still a place for a thoughtful work about the power and sheer importance of childish imagination.
Cyrus [2010, Directed by Jay Duplass and Mark Duplass]
What a curious little motion picture this is. Mumblecore directors Jay and Mark Duplass make their debut incursion into mid-budget indie comedy with this story reminding us of Anthony Perkin’s Psycho statement that “a boy’s best friend is his mother.” Jonah Hill of Knocked Up and Forgetting Sarah Marshall fame plays a twentysomething “musician” who has a creepy and arguably unhealthy attachment to his fortyish mother (played with incredible verve by Marisa Tomei). Enter John C. Reilly. This may seem really hard to believe, based on the fact that this is an indie comedy, but Reilly plays a middle-aged loser who falls for the ultra-attractive Tomei. The only problem is that she is already “attached” as it were … albeit to her adult son.
If this plot description sounds like a recipe for a quirky disaster, I am here to say that this is only half true. The first half of the picture hums along quite nicely and the substantial acting chops of Hill, Reilly, and (especially) Tomei are on prominent display. However, the film’s final act sags under the conventions of "inspiring" melodrama. The movie’s opening is too psychologically complex and ambiguous to be resolved in such a conventional manner. We, the poor audience who have done nothing wrong, are subjected to emotional, over-the-top music, tender hugs, and reconciliatory dialogue worthy of a sitcom script. Ughh! But, 50% of the film is better than 90% of the comedies released this year. I’ve never been good at math, so I’ll let you solve this one for yourself to decide if Cyrus is worth seeing.
Exit through the Gift Shop [2010, Directed by Bansky]
Every so often a film comes along that defies categorization, gloriously flouting cinematic convention to either the delight or intense consternation of the paying audience. I am happy to report that Exit through the Gift Shop clearly belongs to the former category, a purported “documentary” whose mysteries left me intellectually curious and invigorated.
On the surface, Exit through the Gift Shop is an illuminating documentary about the so-called “street art” movement, maverick pop artists who either elevate graffiti to a profound level or desecrate valued public property, depending on who one talks to. Bansky is, we are told, one of the visionary geniuses of this movement. His clever handiwork can be seen in every major city in America, and in several international urban centers as well. Exit is the story of how an aspiring documentarian tried to make a film about Bansky and his partners in crime, and failed.
We only see the reclusive Bansky interviewed in shadow with a pixilated voice, so we have no way of knowing whether or not we are actually seeing the real renegade artist. In fact, it is doubtful how many people have actually seen Bansky in real life. Would we even recognize him if we saw him on camera? The film’s first half seems to be a fairly straightforward document of Bansky’s artistic crimes and misdemeanors. However, the film’s second half takes a strange and fascinating turn that has been conjuring up a good deal of controversy in the film and art communities. We are introduced to a documentarian named Shepard Fairey who was supposedly the first director of Exit. We begin to question, however, whether or not Mr. Fairey even exists. Is he merely a creation of Bansky himself, who has dedicated his artistic career to public chicanery?
Invariably, when I compile my top ten film list at the end of each year, I find myself including nine brooding, violent reflections on the human condition (see No Country for Old Men, There Will be Blood, The Hurt Locker, etc.) and one cuter-than-thou offering staring fish, rats, robots, or a cranky senior citizen with a bunch of balloons. I have previously stated that “Pixar” will be mentioned in future film history textbooks alongside such essential auteurs as Hitchcock, Fellini, and Kurosawa as the greatest cinematic craftsmen of their generations. How Pixar manages time and time again to turn this cynical, self-proclaimed cineaste into a blubbering child welling up with tears at the slightest emotional provocation is one of the greatest mysteries in contemporary film.
Indeed, I reveled in the pure culinary joy of Ratatouille. I admired the socio-environmental consciousness of WALL-E. I sat in awe as Sergei Eisenstein’s bourgeoning theories about montage reached their artistic apotheosis in last year’s Up. I have to say, though, that Toy Story 3 might just go down as the greatest achievement in Pixar Studio’s already impressive portfolio.
The latest installment in the Toy Story franchise works so dang well because it seems simultaneously familiar and new. We know most of the principal players from the previous two films in the trilogy. However, the filmmakers push the characters to the precipice of danger. The stakes at the end of the movie have never been greater for our heroic playthings. We know in our heart of hearts that everything will come out okay in the end. But, the threat of not only a creepy, dictatorial purple bear based uncannily on the warden from Cool Hand Luke but also a massive conflagration ripped right from the pages of Dante’s Inferno keeps us truly on the edges of our seats. Our favorite toys have ended up in a prison escape film and their entire livelihoods are at risk.
The success of Toy Story 3 is not just technical. As any moviegoer who found himself shedding a tear or two (or three) near the film’s bittersweet denouncement will tell you, this thing works on a deeply emotional level as well. I found myself surprisingly and profoundly moved by the picture’s implications. Mental flashbacks to the treasured story Velveteen Rabbit and my priceless childhood companion Bingo Bear caused me to reflect on the nature of childhood and innocence. We are stirred by Toy Story 3’s final moments not because we are sad to see some toys go, but rather because we understand that Andy, our human protagonist, is getting ready to lose something that he will never get back again. In our media-saturated society, it is comforting to know that there’s still a place for a thoughtful work about the power and sheer importance of childish imagination.
Cyrus [2010, Directed by Jay Duplass and Mark Duplass]
What a curious little motion picture this is. Mumblecore directors Jay and Mark Duplass make their debut incursion into mid-budget indie comedy with this story reminding us of Anthony Perkin’s Psycho statement that “a boy’s best friend is his mother.” Jonah Hill of Knocked Up and Forgetting Sarah Marshall fame plays a twentysomething “musician” who has a creepy and arguably unhealthy attachment to his fortyish mother (played with incredible verve by Marisa Tomei). Enter John C. Reilly. This may seem really hard to believe, based on the fact that this is an indie comedy, but Reilly plays a middle-aged loser who falls for the ultra-attractive Tomei. The only problem is that she is already “attached” as it were … albeit to her adult son.
If this plot description sounds like a recipe for a quirky disaster, I am here to say that this is only half true. The first half of the picture hums along quite nicely and the substantial acting chops of Hill, Reilly, and (especially) Tomei are on prominent display. However, the film’s final act sags under the conventions of "inspiring" melodrama. The movie’s opening is too psychologically complex and ambiguous to be resolved in such a conventional manner. We, the poor audience who have done nothing wrong, are subjected to emotional, over-the-top music, tender hugs, and reconciliatory dialogue worthy of a sitcom script. Ughh! But, 50% of the film is better than 90% of the comedies released this year. I’ve never been good at math, so I’ll let you solve this one for yourself to decide if Cyrus is worth seeing.
Exit through the Gift Shop [2010, Directed by Bansky]
Every so often a film comes along that defies categorization, gloriously flouting cinematic convention to either the delight or intense consternation of the paying audience. I am happy to report that Exit through the Gift Shop clearly belongs to the former category, a purported “documentary” whose mysteries left me intellectually curious and invigorated.
On the surface, Exit through the Gift Shop is an illuminating documentary about the so-called “street art” movement, maverick pop artists who either elevate graffiti to a profound level or desecrate valued public property, depending on who one talks to. Bansky is, we are told, one of the visionary geniuses of this movement. His clever handiwork can be seen in every major city in America, and in several international urban centers as well. Exit is the story of how an aspiring documentarian tried to make a film about Bansky and his partners in crime, and failed.
We only see the reclusive Bansky interviewed in shadow with a pixilated voice, so we have no way of knowing whether or not we are actually seeing the real renegade artist. In fact, it is doubtful how many people have actually seen Bansky in real life. Would we even recognize him if we saw him on camera? The film’s first half seems to be a fairly straightforward document of Bansky’s artistic crimes and misdemeanors. However, the film’s second half takes a strange and fascinating turn that has been conjuring up a good deal of controversy in the film and art communities. We are introduced to a documentarian named Shepard Fairey who was supposedly the first director of Exit. We begin to question, however, whether or not Mr. Fairey even exists. Is he merely a creation of Bansky himself, who has dedicated his artistic career to public chicanery?
Personally, I wasn’t all that concerned about the film’s veracity while viewing it. I was too caught up in the experience and the mind trip. Bansky--or whoever is ultimately responsible for this work—brings to light some fascinating questions about art, commerce, and the nature of reality. Overall, Exit through the Gift Shop is one of the most fascinating and intellectually rewarding pictures of the year
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