Five points:1) Period drama is one of my favorite kinds of stories. Partly because I believe the past, while no golden age to be missed, is also no dark age to be shut of. People in the past, to me, are people just like me - though in movies, they're usually a lot prettier, smarter, and more powerful (and have more money). The Special Relationship, dealing with the relationship between Tony Blair and Bill Clinton, and Creation, treating Darwin and his wife's relationship, are two very different period dramas. One is edgy, full of handheld camera movement, hallucinogenic moments, frank sexuality, and stark religious and political pontifications. The other is elegant, crisp, carefully framed, with the occasional crudities used for emphasis, and politics and morality treated in a very ironic, sublte manner full of greys. And, surprisingly, the former is the one set in the 1800s, the latter set in the 1990s. I prefer the latter myself, as I find the grace of well-planned camera movement combined with strong acting (which, to be fair, is a definite strength in both films) much more appealing than "gritty" "energetic" run-and-gun style editing and shooting techniques. 2) Politics, religion, and sex. All three figure incredibly prominantly in both films. The politics of Darwinism and how it is propagated appear starkly and with few nuances in Creation - the extreme supporters and detractors are both presented as boors, though Jeremy Northam is allowed some grace as the religious opponent who tries to maintain friendship with Darwin, while Toby Jones as Darwin's Bulldog, T. H. Huxley, is a complete jerk. However, in The Special Relationship, Blair, Bush, their advisors, opponents, and wives all appear as extremely flawed but also extremely gifted and often very idealistic individuals, making you wonder just how to take Clinton's ending monologue about how evil his successors are, after his own leadership has been tarnished by both sexual misconduct and public dishonesty. One great thing about the film is that it made me question how much of my own antipathy for Clinton was actually based on politics rather than morality - not an easy thing to do for one as firmly conservative as myself. A similar approach to religion and sex pervades the two films - Creation showing religion in an almost Marxist "crutch of the weak" simplicity and sex as a purely romantic reconciliation between Darwin and his wife (played very touchingly by real life husband and wife Paul Bettany and Jennifer Connelly). The Special Relationship, in contrast, shows the complexities of marriages between flawed humans in both the Clinton and Blair families, as well as Blair's struggles to work out his religious faith in light of his political convictions. 3) Music - Creation features a score by frequent Marvel Comics film scorer Christopher Young, in a rather unmemorable background. The Special Relationship managed to secure Alexandre Desplat, who has been consistently given higher and higher profile projects in the past two years, and who composed for the previous film about Blair by the same production team, The Queen. While not nearly his most lovely work (I personally think his score for New Moon is my favorite for lyrical beauty, if a bit simplistic), he suits the modern, high-pressure world of Anglo-US politics with a style very similar to that found in the film preceding The Queen, The Deal, which had many lovely minimalistic elements and a strong pop flavor, while maintaining really beautiful moments of orchestral melody, such as Hilary's exiting the car after Bill's confessions, and the Clinton's farewell at the end of the film. 4) Background: Peter Morgan, writer of The Special Relationship, has written dramatic, sometimes criticized for accuracy but often lauded historical recreations of several major political events, including his two precursor to The Special Relationship "Blair Trilogy" The Deal and The Queen (the latter especially being inredibly powerful), and other excellent (by repute - I've not had the chance to see them yet) period films such as Frost/Nixon and The Last King of Scotland. Jon Amiel, director of Creation, a story about the birth of one of the most controversial scientific theories in history (though its supporters claim it is no such thing - either theory or controversial), directed one of the most incredibly moronic scientific thrillers in the past decade, The Core, in which completely made up metal protects completely flat characters from completely implausible disasters caused by evil (presumably conservative) governments. 5) Overall rating. Creation is a shrill, black and white, overall rather incoherant and silly film featuring quite fine performances and quite annoying directing. The Special Relationship is a uncomfortable, powerful, beautiful, mature film (if a bit overly compressed at times to fit the enormous issues and complexities of the subject) marked by brilliant performances and solid craftsmanship.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Tangled
So, after reading a lot of warmish reviews for Tangled, I think the reaction is really tinted by odd rememberies of the old Disney movies. I think the films always went for a "modern" or "contemporary" feel - we were just younger when we saw them, and we look back now and think they were as nostalgic as we are. Additionally, to complain it lacks "great themes" is actually a plus for me, since Disney's idea of great themes is usually "great cliches" like "trust your heart," "believe in the good in people who are pretty," "be tolerant," "be mystical," or, best yet, "ignore history." I'm perfectly fine with "be Rapunzel, and don't be a thief or a kidnapper."
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Warm enough (Downton Abbey fanfic)
Warning: spoilers for the entire series, both in the fic and the postscript.
"Are you warm enough?""I am when you're holding my hand."
As I approach, bearing the salver in my hand, carefully balanced, just so - slightly canted so that the letter remains in the proper position - I will right it just as I present it - I worry.
Yes, I am Carson - Mr Carson, butler of Downton Abbey (silly telephone - I can't get my answering voice down in my head) - and it is my job to worry. About cooks and housemaids bickering over storeroom keys. About a valet who has developed from a limping nuisance to a quiet pillar, holding everything around him still whilst holding secrets locked deep within his heart - and only a certain gold-haired head housemaid seems to be able to unlock them. Intrepid girl, that.
Oh, yes, but my worries - they extend much farther than simple duties of housekeeping. After all, a butler's job is not merely to behave with dignity (met an interesting footman the other day - Stevens by name - who was rather obsessed by the word), but also the well-being of the family.
And this family requires worrying about in that respect at this moment. Lady Mary - I know in the eyes of the world she has committed evil. No doubt she is often wrong - her comments to her sisters are not quite the thing. But when I think back to when she was tiny, in white skirts and tugging at my sleeve and whispering, "Carson, why must I?" I, of course, responded, "Because your father says so." Even then, though, a minute fraction of my soul wished to say, "You don't have to, dear." Today, her spirit seemed almost broken - and yet, I will do everything I can to ensure it rises again.
But before me - this noble man and his beautiful wife - once a desperate, impoverished aristocrat, callously seeking a foreign fortune, and his bride, a lonely, brash, love-starved, loving girl - they are the centre of our world. Mine, at least. And right now, they are such a fragile centre. I look at the connection between them - the hands held over the blanket covering her reclining form - and realize it's almost as if they are clinging desperately as they plummet off a cliff. They smile, the sunlight falls like airy rain about them, cheerily ignorant to the fact that they have just lost...
Well, it's not worth dwelling on. Suffice to say I look at my employer and I am never more worried in my life.
Yet I have never been prouder to serve this family either.
"You're lordship, this has just arrived for you."
Postscript (I'm reluctant to entitle this "Author's note" out of fear of presumption - the piece is pretentious enough as it is :-): I just finished the lovely (if suffering from an overly overt dialogue style, and perhaps too little attention to the passage of time) first series of the period drama Downton Abbey. I was really taken with many of the characters - from the noble Lord and Lady of the Abbey, to their spoiled yet still somehow loveable first daughter Mary (who I expected to hate, but ended up feeling very strongly for, as her character underwent rape (in my opinion), betrayal, and first real love), to the hardworking and utterly brimming with integrity servants - especially the lovely Bates and Anna, scullery maid Daisy, and of course, stalward butler Carson.
When I finished the series I really had the urge to write a piece about it - partly because of my intense admiration and emotional investment in the characters, and partially because I watched the series knowing about the miscarriage. Such an event is incredibly traumatic (and bravo to the writer, director, and actors for the scene of the Earl weeping - I wish we'd gotten a similar scene of the Countess, but we can't have everything, and it probably would have been redundant), and I can't help but read an intense, glass-like fragility to their smiles and handholding in the final scene.
I toyed with making it from the Earl's perspective, but I felt it would be too maudlin. So I went with the butler, who already had great sympathy from me because of a) his wonderfully rich deep voice; b) his incredible skill as an actor; c) his previous appearance in Andrew Davies' The Way We Live Now (adapted from the novel by Trollope). Astute period drama/literature fans will note the Remains of the Day joke I threw in there.
I hope it's enjoyable - and now I've gone and made the postscript nearly as long as the fic itself.
This really tickled my fancy
So, while learning about ITV's quite exciting looking new period drama (that just finished over there, here's to hoping it comes over here soon), I saw a trailer that had the most bizzare combination in music underscoring the lovely period details and wonderful British acting (and accents - okay, so I'm a shallow Minnesotan who thinks English accents are very fun to listen to, relatively regardless of what they're saying).
It was the song "Every Breath You Take," classic creepy stalker rock by the Police.
Except sung by an angelic sounding children's choir with gorgeous piano accompaniment.
I s'pose it's all to say something about how servants are always watching or something. Or how these people are all on television, being watched. But it really made me laugh.
A Weird Experience
Watching "Creation," the recent film about Darwin, his family, and his
writing, must be an experience rather oddly unique to myself. On the
one hand, as one of the strictest creationists I know, the philosophy
of the film is baffling. T. H. Huxley, "Darwin's Bulldog," who speaks
more strongly about the consequences of evolution for religion, is
clearly one of the biggest jerks in the entire story (played with
clear zest by Toby Jones). The reverend friend of the Darwin family
is both urbane and intelligent (if a bit crusty) and inclined to
punish children sadistically (played subtly by Jeremy Northam). The
various ideologies which come in for pillaging include
colonialism/imperialism, quack medicine (though I think they
overplayed this), religious intolerance, and violent atheism. I'm
rather confused. The theory of evolution is clearly fact for the
story's purposes, but coming from a century where it has basically won
the minds of most viewers, the evidence for it is not laid out in any
convincing manner, requiring the faith of the believers to connect the
dots of god/the director. The other half of me, the one that is constantly (and irritatingly)
analyzing style and skill, keeps cringing at the pointless use of
handheld camerawork, the rather unbelievable attention to avoiding
historical accuracy, the clumsy "important things are being said
importantly" dialogue, and the anvil-weighted ham-fisted metaphors. I think this is a film I can truly label "incoherent," though it does
provide a touching look at the impact of a child's death on a family.
writing, must be an experience rather oddly unique to myself. On the
one hand, as one of the strictest creationists I know, the philosophy
of the film is baffling. T. H. Huxley, "Darwin's Bulldog," who speaks
more strongly about the consequences of evolution for religion, is
clearly one of the biggest jerks in the entire story (played with
clear zest by Toby Jones). The reverend friend of the Darwin family
is both urbane and intelligent (if a bit crusty) and inclined to
punish children sadistically (played subtly by Jeremy Northam). The
various ideologies which come in for pillaging include
colonialism/imperialism, quack medicine (though I think they
overplayed this), religious intolerance, and violent atheism. I'm
rather confused. The theory of evolution is clearly fact for the
story's purposes, but coming from a century where it has basically won
the minds of most viewers, the evidence for it is not laid out in any
convincing manner, requiring the faith of the believers to connect the
dots of god/the director. The other half of me, the one that is constantly (and irritatingly)
analyzing style and skill, keeps cringing at the pointless use of
handheld camerawork, the rather unbelievable attention to avoiding
historical accuracy, the clumsy "important things are being said
importantly" dialogue, and the anvil-weighted ham-fisted metaphors. I think this is a film I can truly label "incoherent," though it does
provide a touching look at the impact of a child's death on a family.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
A critical close reading of a review
I was reading one of my habitual blogs (blogs I check daily, of which there are about four), and came across a link to a review (http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2010/11/six_views_of_ne.shtml) with the following paragraph:
Of course, it's bad form to review a movie that might have been, but I can't help wishingNever Let Me Go were more carefully and deliberately a deconstruction of the sort of film associated most prominently with the Merchant Ivory production company. I don't know why this is, exactly—why I feel such antipathy toward such films as Howard's End and The Bostonians, among many others: films of quality that know themselves as films of quality, that fill their frames with the decor of quality, that garb their actors in the costumes of quality, that illuminate each scene with the light of quality (and not just Merchant Ivory films, either, for quality spreads, like a kudzu clone, to such twaddle as Atonement). Perhaps my aversion originates with an earlier Ishiguro adaptation, the Merchant Ivory productionRemains of the Day, which didn't merely narrow the source material, as Never Let Me Go has done, but mangled it, rendering its meanings into nonsense and sentiment.
I have three responses to this rather moronic series of assertions (albeit well written):
1) The vitriolic repetition of "quality" as an adjective of derision smacks of the sort of reverse snobbery which characterizes much of the literary criticism I abhor. It's almost exactly what I'd expect a duke or snooty servant in the recent (and judgeing by the first episode, excellent) ITV series Downton Abbey to say of a hard working member of the working or middle classes. And yet, because it's directed at just this sort of person - the kind that sees value in inherited traditions and order, in cleanness and structure - it's perfectly fine. Certainly, traditions, inheritance, order, cleanness, and structure are often found cheek by jowl with exploitation, racism, nepotism, corruption, and other vile sins - but they are not transmuted versions of the same thing, just as hard working is not a transmutation of dirty, even though they are often found in conjunction.
2) The Remains of the Day, as adapted by Merchant-Ivory productions, is indeed a lesser work than the novel. I find the adherence to screenwriting cliches, such as giving the protagonists' father misogyny and distance issues, annoying - and yet, the spare, cold style of filming matches Ishiguro's cold, spare prose style quite well. The criticism here is completely out of proportion to the misdemeanors of the adaptation, which only commits the common folly of being a perfectly competent, lovely to look at adaptation of a greater novel.
3) The cut against Atonement is perhaps more justified, and yet seems even more thoughtless. Though I find the film emotionally immature, disparaging the technical accomplishments of the film's visuals because they are an evolution of the "heritage" or "quality" film is akin to disparaging an author merely because they attempt at a distinctive style. The attempt may end pretentiously - but that does not make the attempt itself unworthy, as the article contends.
All in all, I'd like to give a hearty "Badly done" to the reviewer. One can be disapproving (and from what I hear, the film may deserve such disapprobation) of a member of a genre or style without making tastelessly offensive comments about the catagory itself. Surely a reviewer for a science fiction site should know that better than most.
As a final note, I will say that I react so violently against this paragraph not merely because I found the films mentioned above (I've not yet seen Never Let Me Go) visually gorgeous, but also because this attitude tends to be the same as those who condemn the writing and adaptation of Jane Austen as trivial, relicts of a past which is happily dead, or just plain boring. And that is an attitude I cannot but abhor with every fibre of my anglophilic (and orthographically silly) being.
Wow
My boss just came in to my workspace, and after giving me instructions, did a funny little dance to the tune of "It's your last day before a break" - I am amused and taken aback in equal measure.
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