American Beauty.

Review #2328: American Beauty.

Cast: 

Kevin Spacey (Lester Burnham), Annette Bening (Carolyn Burnham), Thora Birch (Jane Burnham), Wes Bentley (Ricky Fitts), Mena Suvari (Angela Hayes), Peter Gallagher (Buddy Kane), Allison Janney (Barbara Fitts), Chris Cooper (Col. Frank Fitts), Scott Bakula (Jim Olmeyer), and Sam Robards (Jim Berkley) Directed by Sam Mendes (#572 - Skyfall, #1585 - 1917, #1891 - Spectre)

Review: 

"If you are doing a play or a film, you have to have a secret way in if you are directing it. Sometimes it’s big things. American Beauty, for me, was about my adolescence."

It isn't every day you get a movie with a lead presence who throws away his responsibilities to go on a quest to maybe get with a much, much younger woman. To start, the movie was written by Alan Ball, the playwright-turned TV writer on the sitcoms Grace Under Fire and Cybill. The Atlanta native, frustrated by his work on those shows, tried to get into film. One of the scripts he would write was cribbed from a play idea he had come up and discarded, with the passion and "anger and rage at my working situation" resulting in a script that Dreamworks Pictures liked. There were numerous inspirations: one was the media circus surrounding the Amy Fisher trial (in which a 17-year old severely wounded the wife of a man she had a sexual relationship when still underage that saw her nicknamed the "Long Island Lolita"), and the other was an actual experience involving a plastic bag that he followed intently for 10 minutes (of course, his Buddhist faith played an influence too, where he was once quoted talking about a notion of "the miraculous within the mundane"). As strange as it sounds, it really was a script that wound up directed by a first-time filmmaker in Sam Mendes, who at the time had just done a revival of the musical Cabaret (interestingly, Mendes had Spacey and Bening in mind from the beginning). Present for rewrites during production (such as excising particular aspects of the ending), Mendes and Ball would each win an Academy Award that yer (television viewers might recognize that afterwards, Ball wound up creating Six Feet Under and True Blood).  

Hell, I suppose you could say that there is a beauty that is ironed out of people by culture, experience, or, well, conformity. Satire, psychological drama, whatever one calls the movie, it certainly is one that has managed to endure in the strange sphere of movies that some people really, really liked 25 years ago and others that, well, thought it was aging terribly by the years that went by (it most certainly is not the worst Best Picture winner when stuff like Cavalcade and Chariots of Fire exists). "Is that all there is?" isn't exactly the freshest premise, admittedly, because you could gleam that in another 1999 movie with Fight Club (which in perhaps a mirror of this film went from polarized reviews to a cult following in its 25 years of life) or even with Office Space. The times shifted fast on this film to a bizarro world where cynicism runs deep and the profound now reeks of pretentiousness. The facades that folks found funny to point at now just seem hollow in their barbs. Esteemed people of their age (insert any Administration of the past few decades) now resemble ghoulish relics. The taboos of older years are now stuff you may wish to bleach from your eyes on Twitter (or, for those with certain tastes, bookmark like a chipmunk), while others on social media seem to believe that their county and political values should be like of the old movies they watched as a youth. I think you get the idea, but I will say this much: the movie is kind of funny to me in that strange way that comes in facades and soap-opera weirdness. It narrates itself as if was Sunset Boulevard (1950), complete with strange self-importance and a worthwhile look (as shot by the famed Conrad L. Hall) of suburban facades.

I interpreted Spacey's performance as one that believe he is in on the joke of someone looking for meaning by basically reverting to a man-child. He trades one sense of totems for other totems in an amusing manner that is actually quite pathetic when you really get down to it. It isn't a role with any sense of dignity to it, but trying to re-invent oneself in the throes of balding hair and flabby nature is strangely enduring ot the now. I may not care for the man or his character, but I don't have to be to get a few chuckles at the pursuit of what one believes to be beauty. Honestly, Bening is the more interesting presence because somehow, her type-A personality facade is really, really amusing to me. It probably is represented best when one sees at her job in which she repeats the sentence "I will sell this house today" on a compulsive level that only makes the punchline (for all the facades one can put up, it all goes to shit in the face of looking closer) all the more amusing. Really, there may be a bit of the Burnhams in the people we may see every day, as that song by the Doors goes (people are strange...). Strangely, Bentley and Birch don't really have as much as impact as I thought they might have done for a movie that starts itself with the two of them for a moment that comes right back to the climax. It's just a couple of adrift youth that try to stake the waters between the ordinary and what is "interesting", and yeah, one gets it I suppose; Suvari may be played as an object, but her facade is at least obvious enough to be played to an actual conclusion. Besides, the brazen vulnerabilities that lie beneath the facade played by Cooper and Janney are far more compelling in those unspoken moments each has on screen (the latter basically seems to be as distant as a wide painting). In general, it is a movie that is shallow and yet somehow fascinating to see for the time it was made in, one in which it tries to make some sort of statement about the beauty of things that lie beneath the surface that have been left adrift in a time where people's pursuit for things and facades have only made one see the film as ridiculous rather than profound. Well-made and weirdly amusing, it is a movie that could only come from the turn of one millennium into another.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

Review #1528: A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

Cast: 
Haley Joel Osment (David), Jude Law (Gigolo Joe), Frances O'Connor (Monica Swinton), Sam Robards (Henry Swinton), Jake Thomas (Martin Swinton), William Hurt (Professor Allen Hobby), Brendan Gleeson (Lord Johnson-Johnson), with Jack Angel (Teddy), Robin Williams (Dr. Know), Ben Kingsley (Specialist), Meryl Streep (Blue Fairy), and Chris Rock (Comedian Robot) Directed by Steven Spielberg (#126 - Close Encounters of the Third Kind, #168 - Raiders of the Lost Ark, #169 - Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, #170 - Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, #302 - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, #351 - Schindler's List, #480 - Jaws, #563 - The Sugarland Express, #573 - E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, #642 - Jurassic Park, #958 - Always, #1068 - Ready Player One, #1305 - Catch Me If You Can, #1478 - The Color Purple, and #1520 - Saving Private Ryan)

Review: 
"While there was divisiveness when A.I. came out, I felt that I had achieved Stanley’s wishes, or goals."

This was most definitely a film I anticipated and feared ever watching. On the one hand, it has sensibilities of two great directors mixed into one prolonged experience both in length and the time it took to actually develop it to the screen. For starters, the film is an adaptation of the short story "Supertoys Last All Summer Long" by Brian Aldiss, written originally in 1969. The original work included just four characters (David, his parents, and Teddy), which talked about the doubts of a boy's existence and what is real while his "parents" wait for the chance to have their own child. Stanley Kubrick had acquired the rights to the story by the 1970s. An array of writers would come and go in writing/consulting a script for Kubrick, which included Aldiss, Bob Shaw, Ian Watson and Sara Maitland, with Kubrick treating the soon-enormous script as resembling The Adventures of Pinocchio. One key thing that stopped progression of getting pre-production going was a perception by Kubrick that effects-work had to evolve enough to suit what he wanted (the release of Jurassic Park helped spur the idea of potentially doing the film again, but Kubrick ultimately retained focus on what ended up being his last project, Eyes Wide Shut in 1999). In the middle of all that searching for the right tone, Steven Spielberg had been approached by Kubrick to direct it, and it was after Kubrick's death in 1999 that led Christiane Kubrick to approach Spielberg to take on the project; Spielberg would develop a screenplay based on the story done by Watson, with the most notable aspect being the "Flesh Fair" sequence.

The ambition shown here in bringing such a project like this to life is admirable, regardless of how the final result turns out. It is a decent film, for better or worse. It has some of the edge needed when it comes to a visual level that makes an interesting curiosity that may perhaps inspire some thought about its deeper implications involving machines, that much is for sure. And yet there is just something about it that seems hollow when it comes to being consistently interesting in actually springing a story that really makes care all the way forward, which combines with a quiet ending that really seems to try to cover too many bases without truly deserving it. In other words, it is a fine movie, but I can't say I really, really liked it enough to justify 146 minutes of runtime, where it seems more clinical verging on silly than properly bleak and innovative, which basically means you get the decent but not perfect writings of two visionaries. Osment does just fine when it comes to a really tough task: a robot boy built to love, complete with an enduring spirit and robotic actions that carry this film as much as he can in unblinking fashion that will either lead to great heights or meandering. Law does fine, amusing in the manner of trickery to go along with the other side of what makes Mecha made to love. O'Connor and Robards don't really do as well, strangely enough, since they really don't help the first half seem that involving. Evidently the 22nd century has led to parents and children made out of wooden acting, where a voice of a teddy bear has more charm in comparison. Hurt does do a fine job, but he is gravelly underused, having basically just two scenes in the whole (meaningful in terms of hammering in the whole aspects of a robot child yes, but still). Williams is funny in his one scene to shine in exposition.

I really just wish I enjoyed this more, because there certainly are bits and pieces that seem suited for greatness that get slogged out of enjoyment. At least the original author Aldiss thought it was "inventive, intriguing, involving film", so to have a film that at least doesn't make the author mad is okay by me. For a story originally just about the plight of parents who struggle with loving a robot child, it sure is strange to have a film go from that to a "Flesh Fair" involving beating down old robots and a quest to become a real boy as Pinocchio with mommy issues. In a future that has cultivated the flooding of New York and had to rebuild itself with exploiting robots, why should it be surprising that at some point in time someone wanted to make a robot that loves you - basically this is the story of an advanced robotic pet looking for a way for their master to come back. The "Flesh Fair" sequence is in some way the make-it-or-break-it sequence - either it will help the film gather depth in the underbelly of robot use, or it will seem a bit too much for its own good. I'm fine with it, but it just seems so jarring when compared to the first half. I appreciate the look of the film, which does fine with featuring the future with some decent robotic effects, although its last trick for the end is a bit unwieldy. And then of course there is that ending, one that tries to resolve the pursuit for the "Blue Fairy" with a half-measure for a fable, as his plight for chasing down this delusion is thought of as like a human's ability to chase down their dreams (I...suppose). Keep in mind, this was the ending devised by Kubrick (not Spielberg), so it only goes to show that sometimes you just can't please everyone when it comes to resolutions. The setup to its little ending was ridiculous enough (because the odds of making a robot into a boy are pretty much nil, so either I expected him to wither away or give up), and the payoff is just an eye-roller more than a tear-jerker when it comes to meaningful science fiction. It is quite possible a re-viewing would help in seeing the layers beneath a vaguely provocative film, but honestly that really seems like a tall order - why not just spend time watching a better movie again instead? If one wants to compare and match, if I want a better Kubrick sci-fi time, I'll pick 2001: A Space Odyssey, and if I want a better Spielberg sci-fi time, I'll pick E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. What we have here is a film that is too cloying and too much for its own good to really become something other than a parable gone awry. I am glad that I saw the film in curiosity for measurement as a film of the 21st century, even if it is ultimately just a decent experience in the long run.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.