Change Your Image
Hooper450
Reviews
My Winnipeg (2007)
A haunting, humorous, and wholly wondrous dream of a documentary.
You could say that Guy Maddin makes films for the dreamers.
No other filmmaker alive puts so much effort into chipping away at the audience's sense of logic and running them through a grinder of their own twisted subconscious.
Beginning with his feature debut Tales from the Gimli Hospital in 1988, Maddin has remained furiously independent, the closest he's ever come to mainstream success being 2003's The Saddest Music in the World, which acted as a kind-of holy grail for film buffs and those obsessed with the days of cinema past. My Winnipeg may be the purest distillation of his unique aesthetic vision to date, almost surely because it's paradoxically the most personal and fantastical.
In essence, the film is a love-letter to Maddin's hometown of Winnipeg, Manitoba. It's a rueful love-letter though, because the film opens with the director hurriedly explaining that he needs to, has to leave forever. But he can't bring himself to do it. The solution? He'll hire actors to recreate scenes from his childhood, in a desperate attempt to attain some obscure kind of closure. In a fabulously inventive instance of casting, B-movie veteran Ann Savage (Edward G. Ulmer's Detour) plays his "real" mom playing herself.
Maddin augments the often hilarious film-within-a-film with bizarre "facts" about Winnipeg, like how it has the 10 times the sleepwalking rate of any other city or that Maddin himself was born in the locker room of the local hockey arena only to return three days later as a newborn to attend his first game. These half-truths attain a kind-of mythic status when combined with Maddin's haunting visuals that, like most of his filmography, harken back to the choppy, rapid-fire pace of German expressionism and the heart-on-sleeve emotion of '40s and '50s melodrama.
It shouldn't be surprising how funny My Winnipeg is, considering that Maddin might be the most unpretentious avant-garde filmmaker of all-time. His casual, matter-of-fact narration blends perfectly with the film's stark poetic images, making the many leaps of fancy that much more potent. When he describes a "secret" taxi company that operates only on Winnipeg's darkened back streets or ruminates on the beauty of "snow fossils" caused by plodding winter footsteps, it's downright impossible not to be overcome with feelings of deep nostalgia and wonder.
Maddin has made faux-biographical films before, 2006's Brand Upon the Brain the most notorious example, but with My Winnipeg, it feels like he's finally letting us in. Of course, it's just as likely that he's putting us on, and if he is, it's one of the most staggeringly beautiful con games ever committed to celluloid.
Black Snake Moan (2006)
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."
Samuel L. Jackson is one of the most admirable (and greatest) of living American actors. Every performance he gives is imbued with immense passion and life, even when he's reduced to punching snakes and sword-fighting with philosophic Muppets. Black Snake Moan is certainly no exception. It can easily be called one of his greatest performances right alongside Pulp Fiction, Changing Lanes, and Jungle Fever.
Jackson is Lazarus, a Southern farmer and gifted bluesman who's in the middle of a volatile divorce from his wife, Rose (Adriane Lennox). One morning, he looks and sees half-naked Rae (Christina Ricci) beaten bloody and lying in the middle of the road. He picks her up, takes her inside, and nurses her back to health. Oh, and he attaches her to a fifty-pound steel chain so she can't escape.
See, Rae is a nymphomaniac, and occasionally has "spells" where she gets antsy
down there and has to have it fixed right quick. Her boyfriend and main nookie source, Ronnie (Justin Timberlake), has just shipped off to war leaving Rae to look to the local boys for satisfaction. After one particularly rough encounter with one of Ronnie's buddies, she ends up in front of Lazarus' house.
The film rises above its seemingly ludicrous premise by correctly doing everything that a great movie is supposed to do. As mentioned before, Jackson is superb as Lazarus. Needless to say, he nails the character's rage perfectly, while also capturing Lazarus' damaged faith and empty heart to perfection. That's where Rae comes in. Brilliantly played by Ricci, Rae has a deeply damaged past and Lazarus is just what she needs: a strong and positive father figure. In a wise move, Brewer keeps the sexual tension in check, releasing just enough to keep the story interesting and believable. This isn't a story about sex; it's about humanity, and how even in the ugliest of circumstances, we have the ability to heal each other. There's a haunting and incredibly moving scene where, with the assistance of his guitar, Lazarus helps Rae confront and defeat the demons at her door both literally and figuratively. It's one of the most powerful I can remember in recent years.
Even Justin Timberlake comes across as impressive. When Ronnie returns and learns of Rae's relationship with Lazarus, he confronts the situation head on. The scene could have come across as contrived were it not for Timberlake's performance and Craig Brewer's excellent direction. Another strong supporting performance is delivered by John Cothran Jr. as R.L., Lazarus' preacher friend. He delivers some of the film's best writing in an excellent monologue, questioning modern Christians' emphasis on heaven rather than doing good while you're alive.
In a time of stunted originality and overused ideas, Brewer is a godsend. Here, he expands upon the immense promise he showed in his previous film, Hustle and Flow, which garnered Terence Howard a much-deserved Oscar nomination. He has a clear, innovative vision and follows it through to the end. And isn't that the first sign of a gifted filmmaker?
Half Nelson (2006)
A very good film.
Independent films usually fall into two categories. There are those who feel artificial and pretentious, catering to "indie" novelty, and there are those whose honesty, warmth, and charm should appeal to any moviegoer. Half Nelson undoubtedly falls into the latter.
In the beginning of Half Nelson, we are introduced to Dan Dunne (Ryan Gosling). He is a middle school history teacher. He is also addicted to crack. One day, after a school basketball game, he decides to get high in the girl's locker room. One of his students, Drey (Shareeka Epps), catches him nearly unconscious lying face down in a stall. She merely says she's sorry for walking in on him before fetching a wet paper towel and swabbing his face. Afterwards he drives her home, and upon leaving the car, says "See you at school". We assume that Drey has been through this before, and we are right. She lives at home with her single mother (Karen Chilton), in a bad neighborhood. Her father's a deadbeat, her brother's in jail, and she has a curious kind of friendship with one of her brother's former friends (Anthony Mackie), who periodically gives the family money. There's not a lot of doubt as to where it comes from.
In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, Half Nelson could've felt like a contrived after-school special, where Dan gives an impassioned speech about the dangers of drugs. There's nothing like that here. Dan realizes what he does is wrong, but he's addicted and cannot stop, although he certainly tries. Drey sympathizes with him, but she doesn't feel sorry for him. She's fiercely independent and doesn't let herself get too close.
One of the film's many highlights is the acting. Epps gives Drey a sense of innocence but at the same time makes her a product of her experience. Mackie is superb as the neighborhood drug dealer. He makes a perfect rival to Dan, with each of them believing that the other one is a "bad influence" on Drey. "Baseheads don't got no friends", Mackie tells her. Gosling is the true standout, however. Even with mediocre material in films like The United States of Leland and The Notebook, he has proved himself to be one of the finest actors working. If an Oscar nomination doesn't come his way, I just might completely tune out the Academy Awards for the rest of my life.
I'm sure there will be some complaints about the film's camera-work, almost all of which is hand-held. But there is a purpose in it. It gives Half Nelson the kind of intimacy it truly requires. It's as if the audience is there beside Dan as he gets high, inhaling as he does. It allows us to connect with the characters as not nearly enough films do. Yes, we need more films like Half Nelson.