Posts Tagged ‘Vicky Cristina Barcelona’

No Concessions: Summer Shorts, with Woody, Coppola, “Tony Manero,” and Zowie Bowie

Just about this time last year I devoted a column to indie or indie-ish movies hunkered down out there among the multiplex behemoths, titled “Summer Shorts.” It’s time for the sequel. The “specialty” market needs all the help it can get—this year’s biggest grosser among the littles has been Sunshine Cleaning, which washed up with a paltry $12 million in the till, or about what it costs to stage a Quidditch match. Consider this a lifeline, for them and for you, if you’re sick of super-stuff (and don’t forget the excellent The Hurt Locker, which I reviewed two weeks ago).

What I liked best about Moon, which I saw this opportune week, was its retro look. Director Duncan Jones (once known as “Zowie Bowie,” son of the formerly named David Jones) was inspired by the industrial design of Silent Running, Alien, and Outland, which production designer Tony Noble and visual effects supervisor Gavin Rothery translated with models rather than computer graphics. Every time the movie, shot in slightly distressed widescreen by Gary Shaw, ventures outside to the lunar surface I was transported to the pre-digital era. This movie has those movies in mind and also the worlds of Gerry Anderson, of TV’s Thunderbirds and Space: 1999, whose 1969 feature Journey to the Far Side of the Sun is another clear inspiration. (And maybe The Man Who Fell to Earth, but Jones is careful to distance himself from his space oddity dad.) (more…)

No Concessions: Academy Awards Night

storagecanoecaEven if you don’t like what the Academy Awards represent–those questionable nominees, that PR flackery, all the “industry” sanctimony–it’s more than possible to enjoy the show itself. Didn’t we all kind of grow up with it? I watched it with mom, in college, in Hong Kong, Italy, and San Jose, CA, with my Oscar posse in Manhattan and now in Brooklyn, with my family (not that I kept my infant daughter up).

For me, 2008 stretched from 6:30pm EST and the first red carpet roundup on ABC (Phoebe Cates, in red, was the premiere star sighting, if she and husband Kevin Kline still rate in the firmament), through Barbara Walters’ 28th pre-show special (with Barbara chatting up the Jonas Brothers on purity, Anne Hathaway on her state of mind–”happy”–Mickey Rourke on suicide, and getting a lap dance from show host Hugh Jackman), a second, official red carpet roundelay with the A-listers (tip: Wear Chopard, win an Oscar) and onto the show, a promised “new look” Oscars. Just under midnight, Oscar’s 81st was (finally!) one for the books. I swapped a few thoughts with Scott (Kung Fu Panda) Malchus, who began with this as we move semi-chronologically, Reader-style, through the evening:

Scott Malchus: When I was a child, I loved Academy Awards night (it was a Monday back then). I was one of the many who dreamed of someday holding one of those gold statues and thanking all of the people I knew, etc. (BC: It can still happen, Slumdog. Thank me from the podium.) Something happened in the late ’90s when these awards lost some of their glamor to me. It was probably around the time that Harvey Weinstein was campaigning the shit out of Shakespeare in Love that I realized that these awards weren’t so much about quality, but about marketing. Convince enough people that your movie is the best and they’ll probably vote for it, even if they haven’t seen the movie. Each year since my kids have been born, I take less interest in the awards to the point that I completely forgot when the nominations were announced this year.

Of course, one of the things that existed when I was younger that doesn’t now is the mystery of who might actually win. With so many award shows, anyone can follow the trends and easily predict who will win. That said, there always seems to be one or two upsets in the major categories, usually the Supporting Actor/Actress slot. I hope that holds true this year, too. (BC: There were exactly two upsets, but not there.)

Bob Cashill: Well, we made it through the ABC Red Carpet segment, which you deemed “atrocious.” (Wear Chopard next year and see how you feel.) You’re jazzed about the hard-working Michael Giacchino finding time from Lost to act as musical director. I’ve interviewed David Rockwell a few times about his set design work, and as we move on in I like what he’s done, giving the space a cooler, more intimate nightclub feel–but I’m not sure about what they’ve put up there on center stage. It’s not Hugh Jackman–he’s a consummate pro–but it didn’t quite come off. Not an Allan Carr disaster, but not a slam dunk, either, for the “new look” Oscars. (more…)

DVD Review: “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008, The Weinstein Company)
purchase this DVD (Amazon)

Whatever your feelings about Woody Allen — and Lord knows I’ve had my ups and downs with his movies — it’s impossible to overestimate his influence on American comedy. It’s sort of ironic, because Allen isn’t always very funny, but his classic films proved that people will pay to watch characters do little other than talk about their problems — heck, we’ll even show up if the movie doesn’t come with one of those stereotypical Hollywood endings. When he’s on his game, Woody will convince you it’s a good idea to pay full ticket price for 90 minutes of wordy self-analysis — and you’ll probably even get a few belly laughs out of it.

Of course, Woody isn’t always on his game, and as he’s moved into the autumn of his career, he’s often gotten full credit for partial work, especially from critics who remember Annie Hall and Hannah and Her Sisters and are grateful they no longer have to review stuff like Celebrity, Anything Else, or The Curse of the Jade Scorpion. It helps that Allen is so goddamn prolific that he essentially tapes over his failures as quickly as they happen, but he’s been on sort of a limited roll for the last 10 years or so, and because reviews for Vicky Cristina Barcelona were generally very enthusiastic — it sports an 81 percent at Rotten Tomatoes — I was looking forward to checking it out on DVD.

As it turns out, Vicky Cristina is the Woody Allen equivalent of a cinematic shrug. Nine times out of 10, when a movie kicks off with a voiceover, you can bank on it being a pretty lazy film, and this one is no exception. We learn all the important things about Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Cristina (Scarlett Johansson) in the movie’s first few minutes thanks to Allen’s omniscient narrator (voice provided by Christopher Evan Welch), who tells us that Vicky is the responsible, engaged one, Cristina is the erratic, passionate one, and they’re headed off to Barcelona for the summer. Vicky believes in “the beauty of commitment”; Cristina has resigned herself to emotional exposure in pursuit of true feeling. You get the idea — and you also know, even if you haven’t read a word about the movie before watching it, that they’re going to cross paths with one or more hunky Spaniards who will Change Their Lives Forever.

It’s just one hunky Spaniard, as it turns out — a bohemian painter named Juan Antonio (played by Javier Bardem, who outclasses and outshines everyone else onscreen, particularly Johansson, who seems to be changing from an actress into a blank canvas before our eyes). Cristina spots Juan Antonio at a gallery opening and gives him the eye, and he takes the opportunity to invite the two Americans away for a weekend of admiring art and lovemaking. Cristina accepts, Vicky balks, and if you can’t see where this is heading by now, then you haven’t seen many movies. (more…)

Dave and Mikey’s Trailer Trash: “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”