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andyterry
Reviews
Der letzte Mann (1924)
Kammerspiel masterpiece
Switching from expressionism to kammerspiel was only for the best for F.W. Murnau. Turning from pure fiction to reality, the director and his cinematographer Freund introduced, quite revolutionarily, moving camera (and also POV-shots) and abandoned intertitles. Intertitles do often kill film's dynamics, and "Noseratu," which is apparently the most famous Murnau's title, was in a way spoiled by texts of all kinds. To abandon intertitles completely was an obvious decision, but difficult to realize and demanding a great skill. Murnau did a brilliant job: there isn't a sequence or a shot which is hard to get despite no lines heard or seen and no explanation given.
Admirably, even from external difficulties Murnau managed to benefit. I mean the ending forced by the movie producers. Murnau had to obey; but he made an obviously unrealistic farce instead of regular happy ending, and also preceded it with a sardonic commentary. As a result, the final sequence underlines picture's message: the second change of protagonist (now to a tux and a top hat) is not a random detail. Furthermore, it's not Hollywood-like idealism we feel here, but a hysterics, some desperate hope. We can even suppose that everything after the only intertitle with Murnau's commentary is a dream, protagonist's insane fantasy.
Funny enough, this forced ending not only gave an additional dimension to "Der Letzte Mann," but also would be used as a narrative technique on its own right by other filmmakers: see Scorsese's "Taxi Driver" and Kusturica's "Underground," both featuring corresponding unrealistic epilogues.
Nine (2009)
A mockery of Fellini's masterpiece, meant as a homage
I don't know what it was like at Broadway, but the film is an ultimate profanation, looking like high-school theater play, or maybe a Disney Homer-based cartoon. Reviews for film tributes of any kind (from Herzog's version of Nosferatu to most of Coens' movies) often mention "respectful reconstruction of original atmosphere." As for "Nine," one can think at some points that Rob Marshall not only doesn't respect Fellini, but, quite the opposite, hates him. Anyway, it's not likely: seems like Marshall does like "8½". In a way American tourists like Europe, swinging between few postcard "must-sees" in their comfortable couches; in a way they like to dine sometimes in an Italian restaurant, run by a Brooklyn resident in the 3d generation. That's the worst.
"Nine" is a Fellini adapted into a popcorn-and-beer show. There's a couple of sequences completely remade from "8½." To avoid watchers from thinking that writers haven't seen any other Fellini's movie, two or three moments from "Dolce vita" are used as well. Creative frustration of the protagonist is shown through repeating phrases like "Oh, I can't set up my script." But this theme is not of much interest for the "Nine" director; it's glamorized stereotypical Italy and Penélope Cruz's stocks which gather most of attention. In order to not getting a watcher tired from the plastic coloring, from time to time there's a sudden synth music for no reason, and characters instantly move to a stage to sing some average-Broadway-style song. International cast uses English, pretending to sound with an Italian accent and seldomly using words like "grazia" and "pronto." Saraghina, oh my god, Saraghina is dressed like a burlesque star and performs a song "Be Italian" with a dozen of backup striptease dancers. Even little things are horribly typical: for instance, all the time shifts are explained with subtitles (otherwise watcher, supposedly, wouldn't understand). At some point, Judy Dench's character says: "Being a director is simple, you only ought to answer 'yes' or 'no.' 'More lipstick maybe?' - 'No.' 'Green or red shall we use?' - 'Green.'" What green, for Christ's sake, or red? "8½" is black and white, you idiots, or isn't it?
Mastroianni with his soft voice and catlike manners showed a slouching, mumbling and unconfident character. Day Lewis, on the contrary, portrays a moody star, wearing shades not because he wants to escape, but because it looks so cool with his narrow necktie, so Tarantino-esque. Speaking of Tarantino, the man is the very person who pronounced the triumph of American pop culture over Europe. But Quentin deals with it with irony, whilst Marshall, first, praises this triumph; second, is absolutely sure it's only for the best for Europe. As if it were on purpose, the most cheesy number, made as Spice Girls clip, features Kate Hudson wearing a silvery bra and singing about her admiration of neorealism. Needless to say, there're few things more contradicting than MTV and Vittorio de Sica's films. Or if it really is on purpose, if it's supposed to be a Tarantino-esque irony, doesn't mr. Marshall see that it's he who looks like a blonde with a silvery bra? Seems like he doesn't.
The Matrix (1999)
An annoying sermon
I guess everyone has once seen a church service young American denominations-style. It's like female choir is singing, someone's playing synth or guitar, and a priest in front of them shouts "God is love", and "Jesus loves you." The lambs shout back these things and all other stuff which is familiar to everyone who has heard something of Christianity.
"The Matrix" has very much in common with such ceremonies. An action movie with an original aesthetics and slow motion can be interesting to watch, just like listening to gospels is sometimes an unalloyed pleasure. But the problem about "The Matrix" is its annoying sermon. With an incredible solemnity and wannabe-prophetical intonation we're fed with an alloy of the most common places philosophy knows. The famous "There is no spoon" phrase - Neo's pupils widen, now he understands everything. A stupid watcher is supposed here to make two or three thinking operations and feel satisfacted for being smart. The intention is simple - or I give too much credit for Wachowskis, maybe this half- philosophy is really the ultimate one for them.
It's possible to associate solipsism and platonism with a modern virtual reality concept cleverly and softly. Wachowskis, however, do it boldly and pushily. Even the spoon quote is not enough, they also use messiah figure, i.e. Neo himself. Now it's a serious business. Neo's gonna show people what they don't wanna see (quote-unquote). The film starts to fail in amusement at once because Neo hogs the story's blanket; however, film's grandiloquence increases to an unbelievable level.
Thus, "The Matrix" is an example of movie which is trying to seem what it's not. Wachowskis try to insert their simple story of people in stylish black coats into as many classical contexts as possible: here we have Nebuchdenazzar, and messiah, and also Morpheus, - whilst the ideological concept is more like of a high school student's essay on a subject of philosophy, compiled in one night before deadline. That's what is the word "tedious" exists.
Nevertheless, it occurred to be the rightest thing. (By the way, effectiveness of such model is well-known: in literature it's exploited by Richard Bach and Paolo Coelho, to name a few.) More than ten years have passed, and still millions of Wachowskis' lambs singing and dancing, and repeating whatever the siblings say. "There is no spoon," chant Wachowskis. "There is no spoon," echoes the congregation deliriously.