THE BEGUILED** Dull


IT’S A SOUTHERN Gothic drama (brilliantly directed fourty years ago by Don Siegel with Clint Eastwood in the lead) that holds great promise: set in the Deep South during the American civil war, a wounded Yankee soldier has been separated from his platoon and is discovered, barely alive, by a young girl. She’s a pupil of a genteel Ladies’ boarding school, ensconced somewhere in the woods of rural Mississippi. And so, having taken pity on him, into this oasis of starched, vestal purity, comes this predatory man… a Northerner in a Confederate world; a wolf among sheep.

His recumbent, half naked sexuality and his aura of danger and the forbidden, lights the spark of desire in the breasts of his tightly laced, repressed rescuers. These souls of girlish purity long for the taint of his corruption; and become beguiled by his rakish ways. Until jealousy, armed with an adze of amputation has its way with him.

It would seem though from this anemic, insipid interpretation that director Sofia Coppola (“Marie Antoinette”) is having none of that. None of the raw, untamable passions of writer Thomas Cullinan’s novel. None of the sly seductions as Corporal McBurney (a dull as dishwater Colin Farrell, who seems to have grown out of his youthful bad boy charisma) samples the morsels of innocence. The central theme of “passion constrained” has been neutered of its sexuality and reframed as a carefully, meticulously storyboarded, bloodless lecture on deception and empowerment.

As the school’s headmistress, Miss Farnsworth, Coppola laces up the icy sexiness of Nicole Kidman so tightly that all we’re left with is the ice. There is no chemistry between her and Farrell. Nor for that matter is there much chemistry between Farrell and any of the other ‘objects of desire’ in Miss Farnsworth’s seminary (Kristen Dunst and Elle Fanning). It’s as though each of them were shot separately against blue screen and edited together in the final mix, the way they edit the voices in animated movies.

It is interesting to compare the female’s (Coppola’s) take on the story with the male’s (Siegel’s.) For Siegel, the Corporal’s symbolic emasculation and fatal comeuppance (that look of shock on Clint Eastwood’s face as he realizes the truth) was one of shuddering horror. For Coppola, it is one of moral triumph.

They’re both valid interpretations. But Siegel’s “horror” bristled with emotion; Coppola’s moral triumph fails to get the heart beating. That said, kudos to Ms. Coppola: many of the crew (production designer, editor, composers etc are women). And that’s an all too rare thing.

 

THE BEGUILED. Dir: Sofia Coppola. With Nicole Kidman, Kristen Dunst, Elle Fanning and Colin Farrell. Screenplay: Sofia Coppola (adapting Albert Maltz’ screenplay from the book by Thomas Cullinan). Cinematographer: Phillippe Le Sourd (“Seven Pounds”). Production Designer: Anne Ross (“Going in Style”)

 

WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES**** Outstanding


AFTER THE DREARY second ‘chapter’ of the (new) Planet of the Apes franchise (“Dawn of the Planet of the Apes”), “War for the Planet of the Apes” is a tremendous movie. It’s thoughtful, gripping, brilliantly acted and the quality of the CGI is unsurpassed.

Though it starts in a fairly typical action movie mode – guns a blazing, apes and soldiers dying in abundant heaps etc. – it soon morphs (after the capture by the apes of a few, defeated, soldiers) into a compelling drama.

It’s been fifteen years since the dawn of the Simian flu, which has resulted in a decimation of the human race and the flowering of simian intellect. The ape leader, Caesar (convincingly embodied by Andy Serkis…the genius who gave us Golum) is keen to avoid war and the ongoing skirmishes with humans. His plans are, like Moses, to lead his beleaguered tribe out of this Pharaonic war zone to a promised land, way over yonder, past an impassible (to humans) desert. This is the first of multiple Biblical and Greek mythological references (There’s even a frightening Red Sea moment when, like Ramses’ armies, Caesar’s tormentors are drowned in a deluge of snow and ice).

But his bête noir, The Colonel (Woody Harrelson), the bald, buff, increasingly deranged Kurtz- like leader of a Nazi-esque troop of rogue mercenaries, is intent on enslaving the apes (“They’re almost human” one of his mercenaries says…in an echo of the Christian apologia for slavery) before wiping them out. The Uncle Toms of this brave new world are turncoat apes, called Donkeys. They’ve turned against their own to save their own skins and will perform any task no matter how demeaning.

The story twists and turns (including a thrilling “Great Escape” segment, as the apes tunnel through forgotten caverns in the quiet dark of the night) as it explores themes of slavery and freedom, mercy and vengeance, heroism and sacrifice.

And it all hangs around the grand, epic character of Caesar as he faces a personal challenge deeper than that of the Colonel’s mercenaries: his desire for vengeance. His people need the calm command of his leadership; but his dark, brooding heart drives him away from the leader’s responsibility as the protector of his clan to the hunter’s lonely quest to kill and destroy. His drive to survive long enough to rid the world of the Colonel is fueled by pure unbridled hate. (I am reminded by the exchange between Quintus Arrius – Jack Hawkins – and Judah Ben Hur – Charlton Heston – in “Ben Hur”. “You are full of hate,” Quintus tells Ben Hur. “That is good. Hate can keep a man alive”)

But in the end, it is the touching generosity of a young, mute girl (Amiah Miller), and a Messianic survival of crucifixion, that soothes the savage beast within. Spartacus turns into Henry V. Or maybe Christ. Hate, tenderness, rage, sorrow, joy. The little miracle of director Matt Reeves’ movie (he also co-wrote it) is how clearly these emotions play across Serkis’ ape visage. You feel for him in ways way beyond the faux emotions of the summertime blockbusters. Here on a planet of apes is the crisis of modern humanity writ large.

Reeves’ noble and very iconic vision (Imagine rows of crucified apes dying in their own Appian Way or chained, slave-whipped apes brutalized by their heartless overlords) is well served by the dark, atmospheric cinematography of Michael Seresin (“Dawn of the Planet…”, “Midnight Express”) and James Chinlund’s (“Dawn…, “Avengers Assemble”) convincing post apocalyptic world.

What a surprise to find such a gem among this year’s even more mindless blockbusters: “The Transformers”, “The Mummy”, “Alien: Covenant”, “Pirates of the Caribbean” and “Guardians of the Galaxy. Vol2”.

 

WAR FOR THE PLANET OF THE APES. Dir: Matt Reeves. Writers: Matt Reeves and Mark Bomback (“Insurgent”, “Wolverine”). With: Andy Serkis, Woody Harrelson, Steve Zahn, Amiah Miller. Cinematpgraphy: Michael Seresin. Production Design: James Chilund. Music: Michael Giacchino (“Star Trek Beyond”)

 

BABY DRIVER*** High Octane


 

“Baby Driver” is a charming, amped up, non stop, music thumping, machine gun syncopating gangster, heist, rom-com, wanna be Bonnie and Clyde, kinetic explosion, sort of movie.

There’s a vague plot about a jive walking, withdrawn, tinnitus plagued youth – his “real” name is Baby- who’s forced into a life of crime (He’s the getaway car driver) as re-payment to a debt he owes to a soft-spoken crime kingpin (Kevin Spacey oozing avuncular menace). He falls for Debora (lily James from “Downtown Abbey”), a waitress in a diner –  an icon of guileless sweetness; a shining light in his dark violent life – and their grand, existential plan is to high tail it outta town…to anyplace that’s not “here”.

Baby seeks to drown out the tinnitus from which he suffers (the result of a car crash, fatal to his arguing parents) with a steady, carefully curated music mix; a beat that locks him away from his gangster surroundings and drives the rhythm of his life… as well as the tempo of the movie.

Director-writer Edgar Wright is mapping out an interesting space for himself in the Tarantino dominated world of pulp-fiction moviemaking. His previous movies, “Hot Fuzz” and “Dawn of the Dead” seamlessly morph into “Baby Driver”. These movies all take their cue from well-seeded movie tropes: the zombie movie, the cop movie and now the car chase/heist movie. Hs talent is to then turn clichéd convention on its head. The result are movies that are both pastiches of movie conventions as well as (his) launching pads. This is the heist movie as music video on steroids (with a riotous nod to the grisly killings you expect from the “Final Destination” franchise)

His cast of characters – all badass gangsta types (played without much humor in the “Fast and Furious” money spinners) – are all slightly crazier versions of a type…as if to draw attention to the silliness of the type, even while revelling in the silliness. The stand-out bad guy by far, from whom Baby must escape, is Buddy. This is John Hamm with a bad haircut and a Terminator’s refusal to stay dead. If ever he had to kill off his suave Don Draper character, “Baby Driver” delivers in spades.

The movie revolves around and dances to the beat of Ansel Elgort (from the vapid “The Fault is in Our Stars”) as Baby. He’s tremendous: a lithe, rhythmic presence, whose expressionless almost autistic look masks an unflinching determination and an ability to elude the tall shadows cast by his fellow powerhouse actors: Spacey and Jamie Fox.

Edgar Wright (who also wrote the funny script for “Ant Man” and Spielberg’s “The Adventures of Tintin”) is a tremendous movie-maker: the breathtaking stunts, the whiplash editing and the good natured energy of the whole enterprise make for great fun.

Though I do admit, the five-star reviews and the suite of accolades the movie garnered, prepared me for something different and lead to some disappointment. Some of Tarantino’s movies are themselves five-star worthy…because they frame the experiences – of slavery, of naziism – through a lens of real insight and rich thematic seriousness…all as part of the gungo-ho carnage that mark his oeuvre.

“Baby Driver” certainly has a fresh distinctiveness to its style; and it’s endearingly engaging.
But it’s nothing more than that.

High craft, yes. High art, no.

 

BABY DRIVER. Dir: Edgar Wright. With: Ansel Elgort, Jon Hamm, Lily James, Kevin Spacey, Jamie Foxx. Cinematographer: Bill Pope (“The Jungle Book”) Editors: Jonathan Amos (“A United Kingdom”) and Paul Machliss (“The World’s End”)