High Fidelity.

Review #2333: High Fidelity.

Cast

John Cusack (Rob Gordon), Iben Hjejle (Laura), Jack Black (Barry Judd), Todd Louiso (Dick), Catherine Zeta-Jones (Charlie Nicholson), Lisa Bonet (Marie DeSalle), Sara Gilbert (Anaugh Moss), Chris Bauer (Paul), Lili Taylor (Sarah Kendrew), Joan Cusack (Liz), Tim Robbins (Ian "Ray" Raymond), and Joelle Carter (Penny Hardwick) Directed by Stephen Frears.

Review: 

“I liked the idea of it being in America. It had a sort of, this sort of more optimistic way in which Americans live, seemed to me to add something to it, rather than taking it away. So it lost some of its stoicism and became slightly more romantic.”

Yes, movies from the new millennium are soon to turn 25 years old, so it seemed apt to cover a movie just as much a result of the writers as it is the director. In 1995, essayist Nick Hornby (probably best known already for his 1995 memoir Fever Pitch), had his first novel come out to the frenzied attention of British audiences who apparently found something in themselves with a setting at a London record shop and a distinct inner monologue. There were rumblings of doing a film as soon as the book came out, with plans ranging from having a draft script done by Scott Rosenberg set in Boston or having Mike Newell involved as a director. Eventually, it was sprung to have John Cusack take a crack at writing a film screenplay, one done in collaboration with D. V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink, who each had worked on Grosse Pointe Blank (as released by Buena Vista Pictures Distribution in 1997). It was through Hornby's permission that they could change the setting to Chicago. Basically, Cusack and Pink/DeVincentis would each go through the book and write what they structured from the book and eventually edit what they saw by basically approaching it as "a checklist of things we need to get done". Cusack suggested trying to approach Stephen Frears to direct. He had actually studied law at the University of Cambridge before electing to work as an assistant to Lindsay Anderson at the Royal Court Theatre (he also worked as an assistant to Karel Reisz as well) and he soon honed his skills for British television. He became a feature director with Gumshoe (1971), but he became a name with My Beautiful Launderette (1985). Hornby was apparently quite satisfied with the adaptation, mostly because a good deal of the dialogue addressing the audience is basically straight from the book. In 2020, a television adaptation of the book came out that lasted one season.

There is something strangely comforting about a comedy that doubles as a sort of male confessional. It is the kind of movie made for people who besides having a certain interest in music maybe, just maybe, need to grow up. The love affair one can have with music in all of its meaningful depths and reaches is palpable with the people we experience in the film that actually end up feeling like people we know in some way or form. Maybe we don't all make top five lists, but we sure do stew on something in the great book of lists and hang-ups. Strangely, it reminds me of Annie Hall (1977), which also handles the anatomy of a breakup through a lead that likes to address the audience (of course, one actually feels the pulse of a tolerable human being in terms the direction and in the acting with High Fidelity, so chew on that). From the jump, it is quite understandable to see Cusack at his most curious and possibly his most effective role. He corrals the movie with a certain kind of slacker (one can operate a store and still slack) charism that really does come through in a manner that we follow along with in ways that a lesser actor would've simply just made a muddled mess. I posit that while some people are self-absorbed, we call them friends anyway because there is a difference between terribly behaved people and people with terrible behavior (i.e. the type that needs to hear "shut up!" once in a while), and some movies win out with weirdos like this. We chuckle and recoil at what we see and hear of a person in all of his bewildering aspects because Cusack just happens to have the voice to carry that drumbeat of weirdness to finding something to do besides just looking back. Of course, it just so happens that there is a pretty capable cast right behind Cusack to make things work beyond just a grandstand for music. Black and Louiso are a dynamic pair of amusement because each just happen to have their own distinct type of humor that connects from the jump in terms of timing and general energy for the material that is palpable in more ways than one. Hjejle goes along with the proceedings that arise from being presented in the prism of one-sided weariness that works in parts. There are a few other little surprises to be found in small moments to see someone such as Robbins take one on the chin in one particular scene of imagined confrontation or one particular cameo to raise a chuckle. I like the overall mood of the film, one that doesn't just dally to conventional means to try and say something about weird hangups or the people you see along the way, and doesn't overstay its welcome at 113 minutes. In general, what we have is a film made by people who clearly had an interest in making a confessional for the hang-ups in all of us that has a distinct love for Chicago and enough charm to make one mix themselves into seeing it play out.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Traffic (2000).

Review #1526: Traffic.

Cast: 
Michael Douglas (Robert Wakefield), Benicio del Toro (Javier Rodriguez), Don Cheadle (Montel Gordon), Catherine Zeta-Jones (Helena Ayala), Dennis Quaid (Arnie Metzger), Erika Christensen (Caroline Wakefield), Luis Guzmán (Ray Castro), Jacob Vargas (Manolo Sanchez), Tomas Milian (General Arturo Salazar), Topher Grace (Seth Abrahams), Miguel Ferrer (Eduardo Ruiz), Amy Irving (Barbara Wakefield), Steven Bauer (Carlos Ayala), D. W. Moffett (Jeff Sheridan), James Brolin (General Ralph Landry), and Albert Finney (White House Chief of Staff) Directed by Steven Soderbergh (#984 - Logan Lucky)

Review: 
"Well, I think a part of you has to be scared, it keeps you alert; otherwise you become complacent. So absolutely, I'm purposefully going after things and doing things that I'm not sure if it's going to come off or not."

There's a difference between one doing films for a living and one making cinema, particularly when it comes to a process-driven director like Steven Soderbergh. He had an interest in film as a teenager that led to him doing his own shorts with a Super 8 and 16 mm camera. He moved to Hollywood by the 1980s and moved his way gradually through roles such as game show composing to concert video directing. His first directing responsibility was the 1985 concert film 9012Live, which featured the band Yes. An idea for a film combined with a cross-country trip led to the development of his first feature in Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989), a film regarded as an independent classic. Soderbergh (who once described himself as a synthesist) has done a mix of independent and mainstream films over the years, with noted works including Out of Sight (1998), Erin Brockovich (2000), and Ocean's Eleven (2001) that represent a versatile director of heist and psychological movies.

The basis for this film was Soderbergh wanted to make a film about the drug trade without having it be about addicts. With the rights to a property that seemed like what he wanted, producer Laura Bickford presented him with the rights to Traffik, a six-part 1989 miniseries written by Simon Moore that dealt with the illegal trade that wove a story between suppliers, growers, and customers from Pakistan to Germany to England, respectively). Looking for scripts led to one by Steve Gaghan that was about high school students and their problem with drugs and gangs that had Edward Zwick involved as producer, but the writer got him to try and do a film together with both Soderbergh and Zwick. After spending time consulting on the outline and doing films on the side, a script was finished that would have over a hundred speaking parts and split storylines to be shot in two months. The film was released by USA Films after 20th Century Fox went through wanting Harrison Ford for the lead, getting him to sign on, and dropping out even after script changes (which Douglas liked enough to take on the role after declining it initially). Soderbergh (who also shot the film himself) wanted a distinct vision for each of the three stories in order, such as having that involved different filters and contrast, such as no filter for a blue tinted Wakefield story or overexposed film with diffusion filter for Ayala's story or tobacco filter in Rodriguez's story.

It is interesting to view the film through its numerous perspectives that says what it wants about the approach to various cultures and the way that vices inhibit their little worlds in big and small ways of cruciality that shows shades of gray in every place with no real clear answer, with a war that isn't what it looks like on television. It has a cohesive edge in most areas that will inspire curiosity alongside certain emotions that make it stick with a viewer now as it did back in 2000. It doesn't compromise itself with trying to make a definitive statement or judgement on any of the three linked stories but instead lets the viewer make their own impressions on how vices (whatever kind of substance they are) can affect us or others around us without having easy solutions whatever border you live in. Obviously there isn't just one key star in the film, but the one that seems the most prominent to focus as first is Douglas, then followed by del Toro, Cheadle, and Zeta-Jones, although this isn't to diminish the effect others have in support. Douglas proves fairly captivating, one who runs with a hard-lined naivety that makes for a high-strung and capable performance that we can at least see some of which in others or ourselves in what we believe seems right. The speech at the end for example makes a point in what it doesn't say just as much as what actually is said about a fight against substances and ourselves, which Douglas handles neatly. When it comes to del Toro (a Puerto Rico native that shifted his focus from studying business to drama at the age of 20), he sticks out just as well in his distinct storyline (told to us primarily in Spanish with subtitles, which is what Soderbergh desired) in jaded honesty that we follow with great interest because of his well-timed instincts for what seems to be necessary to eke out a living within authority and corruption. This works out best in a little scene involving tourists looking for their car and del Toro telling them about calling a man to help them find the car (after stating the police won't find their car) - it is a fascinating moment that would've probably just been a one-shot blip with a less intuitive actor (incidentally he would later star in another drug war related film with Sicario, which also rules). Cheadle does just as well in reliable nature with a sort of cat-and-mouse game involving procedure and coercion, which he does with careful tension. This reflects just as well on Zeta-Jones in her evolution of principles and moments shared with a sneaky (and fairly effective) Quaid.

There are other aspects that do well, such as Christensen in driving the angle of shocking addiction without seeming like an after-school special act, but it ultimately is the balance of its three storylines in look and tension that makes it a mostly well-done film for its era. It will hold the attention for most of its intentions in 147 minutes that rewards patience through a mostly intact plot and fair camerawork and editing. It accomplishes most of what it wants to speak to us by knocking us over in its statements said and unsaid that excels in uncompromising uncomfortability that speaks truth to hypocrisy now more than ever.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.