Wow, so much to take in. I spent my last few posts down in that mosh pit called “The Fray” and feel a bit done in. Anyway, let me make a general observation that critical debates–like the one that briefly coalesced around Traffic–are taxing because (as the folks in The Fray will gladly tell you, even as they demonstrate) there is just no accounting for taste. These arguments are frustrating precisely because they have no right and wrong and cannot be won. You can admire someone’s writing style or prosecutorial finesse but ultimately, if you like a movie you like it–no matter what anybody else says. (Of course, there is also the paradox of the good bad movie. As a writer, I cannot help but have a soft spot for movies like Isn’t She Great? which are fun to write about.
The most useful thing a critic can do is work on making their sensibilities coherent. This is why having a counterindicator–someone with consistently bad taste who reliably loves what you hate and vice versa–can be so useful. (David, it seems as though you have nominated Steven Holden as yours.) Without resorting to dollar book Freud, it is possible to figure out someone’s taste. I deduce from Tony’s astute distinction between admiration and love (as well as his reviews of Suzhou River and especially Kikujiro) that I have a greater interest in a film’s formal qualities than he and less concern for narrative engagement. Suzhou River is primarily a sensuous experience, like Claire Denis’ Beau Travail (the movie that topped the Voice critic’s poll), but which I don’t think has been mentioned here. Tony likes The Wind Will Carry Us and dislikes Kikujiro, but for me, the filmmaking and the humor in these films is quite similar. Both Kiarostami and Kitano have a classical style that reminds me of Keaton or Tati or Albert Brooks. Their sight gags are rigorously constructed, and both get considerable comic mileage from things that are heard but occur off screen. One of the reasons why I like The Wind Will Carry Us much more than Taste of Cherry is because I found it essentially funny. So, too, Shadow of the Vampire. I think that the movie is hilarious–and not only due to Dafoe’s rich comic performance. (On the other hand, I don’t think I laughed more than twice in State and Main or at all in the aptly titled O Brother, my fondness for The Big Lebowski notwithstanding.)
Then, too, there are also ideological considerations, which are not supposed to be discussed although most people enjoy them. (The other day, a music writer at the Voice gave me a reading of Cast Away as the first Dubya movie–guy crashes out of the high-tech economy into four years of misery. Frank Rich, take note.) I never make any secret of my left-wing opinions although there are plenty of leftists who I think are dunderheads and/or terrible filmmakers and right-wing filmmakers whom I admire–at least as filmmakers. Ideology does, however, complicate my response to Traffic–not because I think that the movie is politically simple-minded (it’s not) or because, like Sarah, I find it didactic, but because I’m fascinated by its expediency. Hollywood owes Steven Soderbergh a sincere vote of thanks. Without being unduly moralizing–hell, by even being skeptical about the war on drugs–he’s knocked out an exemplary piece of Hollywood social realism. Serious, responsible, half in Spanish, Traffic feels designed to make the movie industry look good as well as provide an Oscar spectacle (Soderbergh vs. Soderbergh).
Speaking of the spectacle, few things were more comical than watching Sen. Orrin Hatch, a frequent Hollywood basher, primp for the camera and flutter his eyes in his big scene. As a supporting performance, it’s up there with Wilson the volleyball. But this took me out of the movie and into the world of image politics–and with that observation I’ll retire from the field.
See you all next year,
Jim
