Take This Waltz

Sarah Polley’s Take This Waltz is a simple film about a complicated woman struggling through a messy love triangle. It’s straightforward, smart, and, much like Polley’s first film, Away From Her, completely authentic.

The woman in question is Margot, played expertly by Michelle Williams, an actress who, at this point, has no idea how to deliver a less-than-stellar performance. Margot is a woman of many fears, paranoias and eccentricities, and while none of this is presented outwardly (Williams’ performance is, for the most part, pleasantly restrained), we’re witness to Margot being told more than once that she behaves like a child. Baby voices, using the word “gay” as a substitute for “stupid,” comic ploys for attention – things like that. 

In Character: Sam Rockwell

I’ve covered some truly fantastic actors since I began In Character last October, but only twice have I had to bend my own rules to include what I felt were the best performances by the actor I was highlighting. I typically chose an actor’s five best roles, then a final one to signify my favorite specific performance. Emily Mortimer and William H. Macy are the only two actors I’ve had to give six essential roles to. Couldn’t find a way around it. Sam Rockwell makes three.

Whether he’s a bug-eyed maniac, a soft-spoken astronaut, or a far-from-slick con man, Sam Rockwell has a power that is rarely matched by other actors of his generation. It’s those expressive eyes. They’re maddening and sad and soft and piercing. The man’s simply got it.

The Ten Best Actresses of All Time Relay Race

Anna from Defiant Success has been kind enough to pass the baton onto me concerning the Ten Best Actresses of All Time Relay Race, Nostra’s female counterpart to her equally challenging (and ungodly amusing) Ten Best Actors of All Time Relay Race. And looking at the 10 actresses currently occupying the list, I can say that this is a much tougher choice for me than the actors relay race was. There are simply great, and to X one out will be extremely tough, but here goes.

Anthology Breakdown: Paris, je t'aime

The concept of Anthology Breakdown is simple: instead of reviewing an anthology film as one cohesive movie (which is the initial intention) I review and grade each individual vignette. For today’s post, the focus is Paris, je t'aime, a whimsical collection of 18 short films, each set in a different arrondissement in the City of Light.

Earrings: Editing Update and a One-Sheet

I haven’t posted about my new short film Earrings in a little over a month, and for good reason(s). I’ve lived and breathed this movie for eight months, so when filming wrapped, I felt it was important to take a few weeks off before I began reviewing all of the footage.

While taking a break from the film, I was hit with a rather heavy blow in my life. Point in fact, I’m currently going through something extremely difficult that I’m not going to discuss publicly. Times are tough, motivation is sparse, and inspiration has been nonexistent. Don’t worry, I’m not looking for a pity party, I’m just saying that when the worst of life happens, it’s important to embrace something (one thing, anything) and keep going.

Earrings is my one thing.

In Character: John Cazale

John Cazale. Five films. Six years. A lifetime of legacy.

No one had the slightest clue who John Cazale was when he was cast as the weak, foolish Corleone brother in The Godfather. But at the behest of his good friend Al Pacino, Cazale was plucked from New York stage obscurity and sent to rally with guys like Brando, Caan, and Duvall. Which he did, with impossible emotion and vulnerability.

Vulnerability. That’s a word you hear a lot by people who describe Cazale, the man, and Cazale, the actor. He was completely willing to open himself up to each of the four characters he played. Sidney Lumet said Cazale possessed a “tremendous sadness” (the origins of which Lumet never pushed to discover). Whatever his methods were, Cazale transcended screen acting. He did it with his cold, dark eyes, with a glance, or a helpless whimper.

Cazale was 42 when he died in 1978 after a particularly grueling bout with terminal lung cancer. His credits are restricted to five films. Five classics that helped define the finest decade of American cinema. If I were to ever make a list of my top 10 favorite actors of all time, you can be sure that John Cazale would be ranked among them. Here’s why.

My Favorite Scene: The Godfather Part II

Warning: Critical plot details will be divulged in this post.

The second installment of Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather saga is about a lot of things. It’s about family, money, power, revenge. But at its core, it’s really a movie about a guy trying to figure out who the hell tried to kill him.

Early in the film, Michael Coleone’s bedroom is shot to hell as would-be assassins attempt to murder the Don. Immediately after surviving the attack, Michael sets out to find the perpetrator. Who did it, and why? Those two questions are, essentially, what fuels Michael’s section of the film.

Jumping ahead a few hours, after Michael has it confirmed that his dimwitted older brother, Fredo, was responsible for the attack, the two share a brief, heartbreaking moment together that remains one of the very best scenes from America’s best decade of cinema.

The Real New York

Midtown Manhattan, Jan. 2011, taken by yours truly

Most of what I do for my day job is act as the editor in chief of a quarterly magazine. The non-profit I work for essentially lends financial assistance to people with very rare diseases. Basically, we pay for the medications, premiums, etc. of people who cannot afford to pay them. And when I say can’t afford, I’m talking medication that costs thousands of dollars. A month. If our patients don’t take the medication they need, then they don’t make it. Period.

In late January, I traveled to New York City to interview Dennis Stravropoulos, a 9/11 rescue worker who currently lives with pulmonary hypertension, one of the diseases the company I work for supports. PH is a disease that causes abnormally high blood pressure in the arteries of the lungs. Every breath for Dennis is a challenge, and I thought his story, that of a veteran NYPD detective who contracted this often-fatal disease as result of cleaning up debris post-9/11, would make for a good cover story.

I had met Dennis twice before writing the article, so when I met up with him at Ground Zero in January, I was there as a friend first, an editor second, and a movie lover always. What basically developed was one long, giant conversation about his life, his disease and That Day.

101 Cinematic Reasons Why I Love the ‘60s

1.     “The day was 24 hours long, but it seemed longer.”

2.     “You never did eat your lunch, did you?”

3.     “Here you are, sir. Main Level D.”

4.     Peter Sellers as Clare Quilty

5.     Peter Sellers as Capt. Mandrake

6.     Peter Sellers as President Muffley

7.     Peter Sellers as Dr. Strangelove

8.     The unexpected brutality that occurs directly before this shot:

Battleship

After the “necessary” plot details are thrown into play (something about US officials shooting lasers into space to ignite the curiosities of would-be alien life forms) Peter Berg’s Battleship briefly divulges into some amusing character development.

Soon after we meet the Hopper brothers – the older, wiser, Navy man, Stone (because people are really named Stone), and the younger screw-up, Alex – Alex decides to break into a convenience store. Basically, what carries out is a send-up of my favorite viral video of all time. American blockbusters are always trying to be hip and relate to its young audience via the latest pop culture references (remember the "I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!" bit from X-Men: The Last Stand?). We see it all the time, but I’ve never seen it done this refreshingly.

In Character: Ray Winstone

Ray Winstone, that big, brooding, brute of a man. He’s one of our go-to tough guys – a violent, charming bruiser whose characters do whatever it takes to get what they want.

I’ve been a huge admirer of Winstone’s on screen presence for the better part of a decade, but it wasn’t until he told Leonardo DiCaprio that “You don’t. Fuckin’. Hit ‘em!” that I realized I loved this dude.

A few more examples of my admiration follows:

The Dictator

The extent of Sacha Baron Cohen’s greatness has yet to be fully realized. Fifteen years from now, when we’re laughing at the newest shmuck who stays in character for great lengths of time, and does whatever it takes to make an ass out of himself and his subject, it’ll be important to remember where that style originated. Certainly Baron Cohen isn’t the pioneer of dress-up comedy, Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and the Marx Brothers established the style, but Baron Cohen is one of the few people who continually reinvigorates it. With vemon, no less.

The Best Looking Films of All Time (Color)

As a companion piece to yesterday’s list of the Best Looking Black and White Films of All Time, here is the same list, only colorized.

Picking 11 of my favorite looking black and white films was extremely difficult; picking 11 in color was damn near impossible. A lot was left off, so, again, let me know your favorites in the comments section. Here goes.

The Best Looking Films of All Time (B&W)

When I was drafting my list of My 11 Favorite Cinematographers, I quickly noticed a disconnect: some of the best looking films of all time were not shot by my favorite DPs. Every single cinematographer listed in this post has proved that they are a master of their craft, but I was bothered that so many great films were left off that initial list.

To curb my troubles, I’ve drafted my list of the best looking films of all time, in two parts. Today, we’ll look at the black and white films I’m most visually drawn to. Tomorrow, we’ll tackle color.

One final note: there are dozens (actually, hundreds) of films that I’ve left off this list. The marvel (or anguish) of a list is in exercising the act of exclusion as much inclusion. There are so many more to name, but these are the 11 that strike me most. If I left off your favorite, tell me. And why. But let’s limit it to black and white for now. Color comes later.

Sound of My Voice

Early in Sound of My Voice, the fabulously eerie, remarkably clever tiny psychological thriller barely in theaters right now, a couple is taken through the initial motions of attending their first cult session. (Is "session" the right word? Do cults have sessions? Get-togethers? Do they chill? Conspire? Meet?)

Anyway, Peter and Lorna are taken to a suburban home, told to disrobe, shower, and put on a hospital gown before they are handcuffed, blindfolded, eased into a minivan, and driven to another suburban home where they are led downstairs and told to sit patiently with the other members.  After a few moments, out walks Maggie, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed goddess hidden behind a white shawl. Maggie says she’s from the future, and she’s here now to collect a group of people to take with her. Where? I’m not really sure, but that’s not exactly the point.