Congratulations Cannes 2011 Winners; an Exciting List

One of the films I am most highly anticipating this year impressed the Jury at the Cannes Film Festival.

France, Denmark, Belgium, Israel, Argentina, Ukraine, Turkey, and the United States were among the nations represented in the Winner's Circle tonight.


This year's Festival was especially interesting to me, because the films were unusually intriguing, and seemed to have excellent chances of reaching a wider American audience.  In addition to the winners, there was well received work like Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris", which is getting Allen some of his best notices in years.

Of the winners, the black-and-white silent film "The Artist" will certainly be on my list of must-sees, for what appears to be a risky yet successful homage to silent films and the advent of sound, not to mention an affecting performance by Jean Dujardin, and a reportedly delightful appearance by a Jack Russell Terrier. 

Also on my list: "Drive", Cannes' Awarded Directorial effort, starring the always watchable Ryan Gosling and Carey Mulligan.

And then there's tonight's big winner, "Tree of Life", a film of purportedly such high ambition, visual splendor, and maddening ambiguity, that its victory seemed inevitable. 

I can't wait. 

Even though it is unlikely to connect with a mass audience, it still seems to have more popular appeal than the last 2 Palme d'Or winners, Germany's "The White Ribbon" and Thailand's
 "Uncle Boonmee...", both of which I was privileged to have seen this year.

Now, before we jump the gun and start the Oscar oddsmaking (or mudslinging), it's worth noting that only one time did a Palme d'Or winner win a Best Picture Oscar: "Marty", in 1955.  And Terrence Malick's film will no doubt polarize some viewers and prompt millions of disparaging words on-line between now and February.  The well is already being poisoned, and the film hasn't even been released in most cities yet. 

Congratulations to the following winners, with best wishes that all of them find appreciative audiences:

—Palme d'Or (Golden Palm): "The Tree of Life" by Terrence Malick (United States)



—Grand Prize: Shared between "The Kid with the Bike" by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne (Belgium) and "Once Upon a Time in Anatolia" by Nuri Bilge Ceylan (Turkey)
—Jury Prize: "Poliss" by Maiwenn (France)
—Best Director: Nicolas Winding Refn for "Drive" (Denmark)
—Best Actor: Jean Dujardin, "The Artist" (France)
—Best Actress: Kirsten Dunst, "Melancholia" (film from Denmark, actress from United States)
—Best Screenplay: Joseph Cedar, "Footnote" (Israel)
—Camera d'Or (first-time director): "Las Acacias" by Pablo Giorgelli (Argentina)
—Best short film: "Country" by Maryna Vroda (Ukraine)

"Burlesque"-- You Heard Me Correctly

How should a self-respecting film-lover and critic follow up a screening of the stark, masterful  "The White Ribbon"?   By slumming with Cher and Christina Aguilera in "Burlesque", that's how!

Writing about "Burlesque" after the somber German masterpiece is like hearing Rebecca Black sing "Fridays" at a Metropolitan Opera encore to Wagner's  "Götterdämmerung". It felt as if I was suddenly occupying a different planet.  But then, after all of that German angst, "Burlesque" might be just what I needed to cleanse the cinematic palate. The contrast between the two films made me appreciate each of them, in their own way, more.

But enough of being serious.  "Burlesque" is a modern pastiche of every backstage-musical film ever made since "Broadway Melody" (1929).  Cliches abound; without them, the film would cease to exist. 

There's a giddy feeling in being able to predict every scene, every line, and not feel completely insulted.  It's like attending a singalong in which no one needs subtitles or sheet music, because everyone knows the words.

Even though the film lacks originality or sophistication, there are so many redeeming features that it would be downright mean to be too critical.  Sure, many people will find this absurd (and it is); but it's also entertaining, and nicely performed by a cast eager to sink their teeth into this soap-opera musical-revue.

There's Cher, as Tess, the owner of the "Burlesque" nightclub about to be bought and torn down by a smooth developer Marcus (Eric Dane); Stanley Tucci, as Sean, the wisecracking wardrobe guy and utility person in the grandest Thelma Ritter tradition; Peter Gallagher in a throwaway role as Tess' ex-husband and business manager; and Alan Cumming as the sleazy doorman and "emcee" of a stage number of his own.

And of course, there's Ali, the naive Iowa waitress/performer who pulls up stakes to make it in Los Angeles.  Christina Aguilera, as Ali, can't bring much range to the wide-eyed girl who weasels her way into a job as a Burlesque cocktail waitress.  But when she gets an audition by sheer "pluck" (is there any other way to get an audition?); and when she eventually belts out a tune live (the buxom chorus-girls only lip-sync), Aguilera does a pretty good job carrying the show. She has a strong voice and she is a likable entertainer.

She is the fish-out-of-water with big dreams and undiscovered talent.  Until her big break, alone, with no family and nowhere to go, she befriends Burlesque's hunky, eye-linered, bowler-hatted bartender Jack (Cam Gigandet).  You know from the first minute that they are destined to become lovers (no spoiler there!) and the fun is in watching it happen, and predicting every step.

 

Gigandet has dreamy eyes, a nice bod, and is responsible for the hottest product placement I have seen since, maybe, "Austin Powers".  I'm still craving Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies.

There are wonderfully bad lines ("I held your head while you threw up everything but your memories!"), and wonderfully showy musical numbers.  The choreography strains for Fosse and falls miles short, but the numbers are fast, and they "cut" well.  There's energy and the hard work is evident.  Even when the melodrama gets laid on thick, you're more likely to react with good humor rather than feeling ripped off.  There's a good variety of songs, from old Etta James standards to a few original songs that, I must say, SHOULD have received some Oscar recognition.

It's all toothless, mindless fun, and completely harmless, even as it seems to "borrow" an almost plagiaristic amount of material from other films. When Ali arrives in L.A. and draws an arrow on a postcard of her hotel ("I am here"), and she rips it up and throws it out the window---before you can say Joe Buck, it's a direct copy of "Midnight Cowboy", down to the fast zoom-out from the window to the street below. 

There are also fleeting nods to Roxie Hart, down to the hopeful platinum-blonde "projecting" herself into a musical number, a la Renee Zellweger in "Chicago".

I wondered if "Burlesque" would regularly pay homage to other well-known films, but this technique was soon abandoned, with one huge exception. 

Many viewers will be constantly reminded of another masterpiece: "Burlesque" steals heavily from "Cabaret".  In fact, this movie is "Cabaret" with every drop of menace drained out, and polished to a pop-culture sheen. But those familiar with "Cabaret" will notice the exact "Mein Herr" dance moves, the "Maybe This Time" lighting and cutaway bit of dialogue--In fact, one Kander and Ebb number ("Sitting Pretty") is actually used as instrumental background.

One wishes that those who are unfamiliar with the films that "Burlesque" quotes could be introduced to these classic originals.  One hopes that mere robbery isn't being committed.

Normally this would annoy me.  But "Burlesque" completely won me over and I didn't really mind its retreads and melodrama. Writer-Director Steve Antin must have known what he was doing, or else he got very lucky to get the tone and performances just right. 

It's great to see Cher back on the big screen.  In spite of the "work" she's had done, she manages to be marvelous and expressive, and her voice has never been better.  Aguilera would seem to have a bright future in this kind of musical, alas a type of film Hollywood almost never makes any more.

Short Take--"The White Ribbon"

This weekend I finally had the opportunity to screen the 2009 Oscar-nominated German film "The White Ribbon". What follows is a "short" review. While this is sort of  lengthy for a "short take", this film deserves much more depth and analysis than I give it here.  For now, here's a survey of my initial impressions of this dark but awesome film.

(Note: "The Lives of Others" was the eventual Foreign Language Film Oscar Winner in 2009.)


It is an intriguing, mesmerizing, Serious film with a capital S, worthy of respect, hard to watch at times, an often brilliantly observed allegory of the roots of fascism.  It's also a curiously maddening mystery story, where it becomes clear that the solution will remain unresolved.  Ultimately, the film's meanings fade into view like the ghostly reminder of a tragic history.


Shot on color stock but drained to a luminous black and white, this is a film that calls to mind classic European "art films", certainly some of the more somber works by Ingmar Bergman, and those of Albert Bresson ("Au Hasard Balthazar").


The film examines the lives of a feudal German village on the eve of World War I.  The townspeople are mostly dependent on the local Baron whose fields and factory provide most of the employment to the villagers.  We intimately explore the lives of the Baron in his opulent manor with his wife and young children; the local Pastor and his repressed offspring; a poor factory father and his laboring children, the mother of which dies in a factory accident; a cruel, philandering widowed doctor who emotionally abuses his adoring assistant, a dowdy midwife who cares for his two children;  and a schoolteacher (who narrates as an older man) and the young girl he fancies for his bride.


The film is built on a series of atrocities that are committed mysteriously: the doctor's injury by a deliberate trip-wire in a horseback-riding accident; the aforementioned death of the factory mother in which negligence is blamed on the Baron; the burning of a barn; the abduction and beating of the baron's young son; the blinding of the doctor's mentally disabled boy; the mutilation of a pet bird.  One incident, in which an older boy attempts to drown the baron's son to steal his reed flute, is presented on-camera.


All manner of abuse is suffered by the children at the hands of the adults in their midst, both on-camera and behind closed doors; beatings, verbal humiliation, forced confessions of awakening sexual feelings, and the wearing of a white ribbon, to remind transgressors of their goal of achieving purity. 


Michael Haneke's direction is measured, hypnotic; the camera is fixed on the actors in long hushed sequences that carry emotional weight.  The impossibly beautiful lighting, the slow takes, the buildup to horrific images, left me in a constant state of dread.  Yet I could not look away.


It becomes clear that every character and incident is meant to represent something else, something more heinous, and heavy.  The repression of the children, and their seeming innocence while evidence points to their possible involvement in unspeakable acts, is like a slow sickening realization that our assumptions about the world have curdled.  Haneke seems to be demonstrating a national character of sadism and duplicity, showing us ever more mysterious, cruel events instead of using political dogma, to show us how fascism might have gained a foothold in a society of repression and religious hypocrisy. 

Haneke shows us how truth is often too painful, or dangerous, to acknowledge, that to do so could change everything.  Notice for example the hesitation of the pastor before administering the First Communion to the two of his children he disciplined, as though withholding the sacrament from evil.  The conflict is breathtaking.

It is disconcerting to hear young children discuss the implications of death, of God wanting them to die, to see these children abused as if a matter of daily living, only to realize that they may be responsible for some of the more horrid events that have unfolded during the film.  The child-actors are all terrific, unbelievably so.  Especially good is Leonard Proxauf as the Pastor's troubled son.  His scene of confession, his anger and tears perfectly controlled, is marvelous.


The Baron's wife, before removing her children to the relative safety of Italy, sums it up in a sentence from a monologue that oddly satisfies our need to know what we are looking at, even while we correctly suspect that the mysteries might never be fully solved: ""I can't live in an atmosphere of malice, envy, cruelty and brutality."  This is the only time in the film in which anything like a theme is expressed in such a concrete way.  The discipline meted out by the pastor is as hypocrisy borne of self-righteousness.  The villagers are encouraged to suspect their neighbors and remain suspicious, but unenlightened, by the film's end.


In the final shot, a very famous German hymn is sung while the remaining villagers gather in the church, soon after Germany declares war on Russia.  (Except for mention of the start of the War, there are no overt political overtones).  The hymn has some powerfully sentimental connotations for a way of life that had started to disappear in Germany. The hope and innocence of this moving song, in light of what we have just witnessed, is an ironic conclusion to this powerful, beautiful film that is yet filled with outrage and visceral shock.


This is a provocative, chilling, poetic film.  It is definitely worth seeing, and I would recommend it, with the warning that it is often difficult to watch, its beauty notwithstanding.  It provided this viewer with the emotional resonance and aesthetic satisfaction offered by films that deserve to be considered true attempts at artistry.