Phillip Lopate and Geoffrey O'Brien
Dear Geoffrey,
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StumbleUponVisconti's The Leopard is on my all-time 10 best list. It almost ruins you for other movies. I know what you mean about the hollow feeling you're left with at the end of Pollock. It's true about all bio-pics about addicted artists, Bird as well. They make art, they get high, they clean up, they make art, they get high. And the episodic nature of bio-pics as they give scrupulous treatment to life's stages: The same impatience came over me when I was watching the last half-hour of Schnabel's Before Night Falls. Still, what amazes me about both pictures is the scenes that work--like the one where Lee tells Pollock she won't have a child with him or the one where she lectures his family on Jackson's importance in the media. My friend Carrie Rickey, the film critic for Philadelphia Inquirer, said astutely that Pollock is about his control or lack of control of liquids (paint, semen, alcohol).
I saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon twice. The first time I was very tired and fell asleep in the middle. (It happens even to film critics.) I suppose my essential lack of interest in kung-fu fantasy pushed me over the edge into sleep. The second time I was alert and liked its clarity and the quiet underneath. In fact I found myself mesmerized by all the scenes where they were just saying hello or sitting down or talking. I loved the art direction: Every doily and shmata shone with authenticity. My mind wandered during the fight scenes although I was riveted by the poetry of bouncing through the green trees. And, to be honest, I was riveted by Michele Yeoh: the sexual poise of a woman approaching middle age, the sense of power under restraint. She should get the Oscar for Best Actress, though I don't believe she's even nominated. Michele Yeoh, yeah. ... Anyway, I came around to Crouching Tiger, and it's my personal choice for Best Picture. Though it hasn't a prayer!
The hoopla around Traffic baffles me. I don't see what's so original about it; it juggles several plot lines like any number of police TV shows. Much of it is patently unbelievable, such as Michael Douglas chasing his daughter through the ghetto or walking out of the White House in midconference, and the ending is sappy. What worked for me was Benicio del Toro: I left the theater thinking of the young, heavy-lidded Robert Mitchum. A star is born. But the notion that we should honor it because it may change national drug policy, which I strongly doubt, is bunk. As for Soderbergh's direction, very competent, though I was more excited by his work on The Limey.
You mention Karl Malden's work in Fear Strikes Out. I recently saw On the Waterfront again, where he is excruciatingly hammy, and he's not too subtle in Streetcar Named Desire either, if I recall. Was Malden an aberration of the Method, or did he do any other good acting jobs besides Fear Strikes Out? I await your elucidation of this all-important matter.
Fondly,
Phillip
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Reader Comments From The Fray:
[Thursday Notes from the Fray Editor: So Phillip Lopate came into the Fray too, to answer the A.O.Scott post below, and Mr Scott answered him, and then David Edelstein thought it was all getting too friendly, and really we recommend you read the whole thread (starts here), no actually we are imploring you to read it, because it is one of the great Fray feuding threads, with posts titled "A.O. Wimps Out" and "By God Mr Edelstein" and a mention of effete drivel. There are special extra insults from star posters and others, plus this unmissable summary of the action from Fray favorite Joseph Britt ("What are these people arguing about? [Is it]... that anyway House of Mirth was supposed to be grim, a bummer and/or a downer but is nonetheless worthy for other reasons, so the Times' critics' criticism is wrong. Have I got it?"). Neill Hamilton--a trouble-maker if ever we saw one--tried to help Mr Britt out, below.]
While the posts appear to be trading blows about the movie The House of Mirth, it appears that they are arguing about certain hidden issues. A.O.Scott is arguing that the New York Times is not as fun as a frat party, and never will be if he can help it. Edelstein is arguing that he prefers Gillian Anderson in the X-Files, altho' he misses Mulder. Zeit for some reason wanted to talk about the only Art movie he has ever seen, and Lopate's point is only known to him. I hope this helps.
--Neill Hamilton
(To reply, click here.)
[Wednesday Notes from the Fray Editor: Some rumbling in the film critics' ranks here. Did the New York Times diss House of Mirth like frat boys? A.O.Scott says no, below. And Slate's movie critic David Edelstein is in The Fray arguing too. There are comments on individual films throughout. To take random examples, a defense of Manhattan, and the excellent question "Where was Wonder Boys?". (If there was a post agreeing that The Leopard is one of the best films ever made, we would feature it too.) Microcinemas are discussed here. And (we are filing under the heading "good to know if true") how posting on The Fray can protect you from Alzheimer's, here.]
Mr. Lopate writes:
What is his source for this ridiculous contention? There are three film critics at the Times: Elvis Mitchell, Stephen Holden, and me. To my knowledge (and his), Mitchell has never written about House of Mirth, and my only published remarks about the film came in a Slate "Movie Club," in which I said that while I admired Davies's visual technique, I found the movie emotionally inert. So perhaps Mr. Lopate is referring to Stephen Holden's review, which ran when House of Mirth was shown at the New York Film Festival. But while Holden did describe the movie's depiction of New York society as "grim" and "bleak," he did not fault (much less "lambaste" or "despise") House of Mirth for its somber mood. Rather, he thought Gillian Anderson was miscast as Lily Bart, and found most of the secondary characters one-dimensional.
The implication that "the Times critics" favor shallow, feel-good pictures will be laughable to anyone who bothers to read the paper, and will certainly come as news to the makers of Erin Brockovitch, Gladiator, Finding Forrester and Chocolat, all of which we treated pretty roughly. Perhaps the only articles in the Times Mr. Lopate reads are the ones he writes himself, or perhaps he fell asleep over the paper and dreamed up a team of shallow critics to serve as "Breakfast Table" straw men. In any case it's too bad that, in his desperate need to preserve a sense of intellectual superiority, he has so egregiously smeared and misrepresented the work of other critics. I guess I'd rather be middlebrow and literary than highbrow and illiterate.
--A.O.Scott
(To reply, click here.)
Timesaver: Oscar night in a nutshell.
Armey Archer, Joan Rivers and Spawn, scores of "stars", 30% ridiculously over-dressed, 30% under-dressed in designer slobbery, 30% appropriately dressed but ill-coiffed, indoctrination through a summary of historical significance, popular clips from this year's movies, witty, left-leaning banter from an officious host, audience shots of actors (22% of all shots include Jack Nicholson), more witty banter including rolling blackout jokes, irrelevant awards for tech-geeks, makeup people and unknown music industry wonks, more witty banter including Dubya jokes, slow tease with clips from best movie nominees, slightly more "important" awards, tacky musical and dance numbers, more witty banter probably including J-Lo dress references, more shots of Jack, building suspense, complete overuse of the words "vision, brilliance and genius," sappy "thank yous", lifetime achievement award to somebody who's more talented than all the nominees put together but just never had the right PR people, annoying, hand-wringing, impassioned political statements by "stars" with furrowed brows, salutes to the independents (who are the only people doing anything new, anymore), building suspense, more witty banter about events that occurred earlier in the night, best film award, a little more irrelevant bullshit and two weeks worth of water cooler talk
--Johnny Hotpants
(To reply, click here.)