Public Enemies (2009)
It’s not easy to fill the shoes of the man who directed such terrific thrillers as Manhunter (1986), Heat (1995), and Collateral (2004), unless of course you are the man who directed Manhunter, Heat, and Collateral. In that case, it shouldn’t be too difficult, especially when gifted with a project that couldn’t be a more perfect fit for your talents. Yet sometimes, as Michael Mann has proven with Public Enemies, an account of the life of notorious bank robber John Dillinger, the parts just don’t fit.
Let’s start with the positives, as there are sadly so few. First is Mann’s decision to shoot in the same digital format he used to such atmospheric effect in Collateral, which gives the film a rawness and vitality we rarely see in period pieces. Second is the use of Otis Taylor’s blues jam “One Million Slaves,” which provides a wonderful sound and tone that Mann unfortunately fails to capitalize upon throughout the rest of the film. And third is Stephen Graham’s manic, psychopathic portrayal of “Baby Face” Nelson; the movie only truly comes to life during the twenty minutes that he is part of the Dillinger gang.
Other than that, Enemies is just one misstep after another. The film is about forty minutes too long, and paced so deliberately that you half expect the cars onscreen to start moving backwards. The script is riddled with one uncreative gangster movie cliché after another, from the “I’ll come back for you no matter what” relationship with his girl Friday, to the obligatory hyper-slow motion death scene. The action sequences, save a few relatively gripping Peckinpah homages, are choreographed and executed with none of the life nor deftness of hand Mann displayed in Heat and Collateral. But perhaps the film’s most fatal flaw is Johnny Depp’s lifeless performance as Dillinger: the character he has created is so devoid of feeling or personality that we neither care nor want to care when he is shot in the face at the movie’s denouement. In a role that could have potentially redeemed the film’s myriad other flaws, Depp does nothing. And considering the generally quirky, unique quality he brings to most of his other roles, this one is particularly disappointing.
Overall, Public Enemies is a failure of the highest order. How this could have gone so terribly awry is beyond me. Do yourself a favor and rent Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967) or Brian de Palma’s The Untouchables (1987) instead.
AND...
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
Before we get into logistics, let’s get the legendary part aside. It is no exaggeration to say that Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde changed the face of American film. Its hyper-stylized use of violence, effortless combination of humor and brutality, and romantic, anti-establishment anti-heroes proved to be a winning (and lucrative) combination that introduced Hollywood to the power of a young audience. Without this film, there would be no Scorsese, no Coppola, no Bogdanovich, Spielberg, or De Palma. No Easy Rider, no Wild Bunch, no Star Wars. Without Bonnie and Clyde, there would be no 1970s Golden Age of American cinema.
Based on actual events, the story concerns the rise and fall of the Barrow gang, a group of Depression-era bank robbers consisting of Bonnie Parker, Clyde Barrow, Buck Barrow (Clyde’s older brother), Blanche Barrow (Buck’s wife) and C.W. Moss. In the course of their wild, thieving rampage across the rural Midwest during the 1930s, their exploits grow to near-mythic proportions amongst the poor and disenfranchised, making them folk heroes to any and all who have been victimized by the American financial system.
Brilliantly written by Robert Benton and David Newman, the film is ignited by a quintet of stunning performances from its ensemble cast. Warren Beatty as Clyde is as charming, flawed, and endearing as they come, and Faye Dunaway gives a knockout, star-making performance as Bonnie. Michael J. Pollard is a revelation as the dim-witted but loyal C.W., while Gene Hackman explodes across the screen as Buck. And Estelle Parsons, in her Oscar-winning role as Blanche, is shrill, hysterical, infuriating, and absolutely perfect. There is not a false note in characterization, a testament to both the skill of the actors and Arthur Penn’s sure-handed directorial guidance.
These terrific performances are matched by the film’s striking visual design. The costumes by Theadora Van Runkle started nothing short of a fashion revolution at the time of release, while Burnett Guffey’s cinematography, paired with Dean Tavoularis’ stunning art direction, perfectly captures the beauty and brutality of the Depression-era Midwest. Dede Allen’s legendary editing work speaks for itself through the legacy it has left behind: Sam Peckinpah, John Woo, the brilliant Thelma Schoonmaker. All owe an artistic debt to what Allen did with this film.
The hype that has surrounded this movie for over forty years is completely justified. Its innovation, influence, and creative ingenuity are practically unmatched. Go to the nearest video store and see for yourself: Bonnie and Clyde is a bloody, brilliant masterpiece.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
What is It Good For?
The Hurt Locker (2009)
Although it has only played in selected L.A. and New York theatres for the past month or so, Kathryn Bigelow’s Iraq war thriller has generated its fair share of critical buzz. A scrappy, exciting little firecracker of a movie, The Hurt Locker is focused, razor sharp, and visceral where other films on the subject have failed to be, emerging alongside HBO’s Generation Kill as the definitive filmic representation of the War in Iraq thus far. With the number of Best Picture nominees up from five to ten this year, a small but oh-so-worthy film like Hurt Locker may have a chance of taking home the highly coveted little golden man.
The movie concerns Bravo Company, a three-man team of U.S. soldiers whose task it is to diffuse the numerous bombs hidden around the streets of Baghdad. Their work is both highly specific and extremely dangerous, as evidenced in a nail-biting opener that sets the tone for the rest of the film, with something new and increasingly death-defying to face every day. This is not the kind of bomb squad you are used to seeing in movies, the sweaty techno-geeks who agonize over whether to cut the red wire or the blue wire; which wire to cut is the last thing these guys are worried about. In fact, Bravo Company’s point man (an impressive Jeremy Renner) seems to have few qualms about ripping chords willy-nilly from explosive devices and tossing them aside, easy as pie. The real danger comes from the people who gather around the scene, or watch from nearby storefronts and balconies, any one of whom could pull out a cell phone and remote control detonate the bomb at any second. The constant and unyielding tension created by this simple situation makes for an incredibly suspenseful two hours.
Solid work from Renner and Anthony Mackie as the team’s seasoned lookout are the icing on the cake, but the vast majority of credit must go to Ms. Bigelow. With this film, she puts on a master class in suspense, effortlessly sustaining an atmosphere of nerve-wracking tension throughout. Each scene is meticulously constructed for maximum impact, certainly thrilling, but never forgetting that the heart and soul of a story lies in its characters. She pulls a performance out of Renner that is both charismatic and disturbing, embodying the best and worse of what it means to be a dedicated soldier, while Mackie’s steely exterior hides a fragile soul constantly afraid of losing his comrades. These two men, their clashes, collaborations, and comraderie, are the backbone of the film, and Bigelow milks spot on performances from her two leads.
Undoubtedly the best war film since Three Kings, and in my opinion one of the best ever made about an American war post-1945, The Hurt Locker is a film you won’t soon forget. And if my instincts are correct, neither will Oscar.
AND...
The Big Red One: The Reconstruction (1980)
There’s a twenty-four-year-long story behind this version of The Big Red One. The original cut of Sam Fuller’s semi-autobiographical World War II drama was over four hours long, prompting the studio to take it from him and shear it down to under two hours. Despite the director’s highly vocal protests, this studio cut remained the only available version of the film until 2004, when critic Richard Schickel spurred an effort to “reconstruct” a cut closer in spirit to Fuller’s initial vision, using the original shooting script and all existing unused footage as guides. The result is The Reconstruction, a sprawling, two-hour-forty-minute mini-epic focusing on the experiences of some of the most jet-setting soldiers in WWII movie history.
Between 1942 and 1945, the four core members of the 1st Infantry Brigade’s 16th Division, led by the incomparable Lee Marvin, make their way from Algeria to Sicily to Omaha Beach to Belgium to Czechoslovakia. They fight in many battles together, share many laughs, and lose many comrades, so many that they eventually stop bothering to remember the names of new recruits. By the time the war ends, they have shared a lifetime of experiences.
Though a bit meandering, Fuller’s film is fascinating for a number of reasons. It’s core message that the only glory to be had in war is survival is punctuated by a healthy sense of the absurd and a focus on mishaps. The film opens with Lee Marvin stabbing a German soldier four hours after WWI has ended; true, he did not know the war was over, but his ignorance cost a man his life, which has to feel bad no matter what the circumstances. During the group’s liberation of a concentration camp in Czechoslovakia, Mark Hammill is so disturbed by what he sees that when he finds a Nazi soldier hiding in an oven, he cannot stop shooting him, even after the soldier has dead. It is small, emotionally intimate moments such as these that prove only someone who has experienced these events first hand could have made this film.
The Big Red One is highly personal, which is part of its appeal, but it is also engagingly constructed and very energetic. Its skewed sense of glory and heroism makes it unique in the genre, more along the lines of Full Metal Jacket and Three Kings than Saving Private Ryan. Well worth watching, One is a rather unexpected treat.
For more by Sam Fuller, check out his incredible racial allegory White Dog, made two years later in 1982.
Although it has only played in selected L.A. and New York theatres for the past month or so, Kathryn Bigelow’s Iraq war thriller has generated its fair share of critical buzz. A scrappy, exciting little firecracker of a movie, The Hurt Locker is focused, razor sharp, and visceral where other films on the subject have failed to be, emerging alongside HBO’s Generation Kill as the definitive filmic representation of the War in Iraq thus far. With the number of Best Picture nominees up from five to ten this year, a small but oh-so-worthy film like Hurt Locker may have a chance of taking home the highly coveted little golden man.
The movie concerns Bravo Company, a three-man team of U.S. soldiers whose task it is to diffuse the numerous bombs hidden around the streets of Baghdad. Their work is both highly specific and extremely dangerous, as evidenced in a nail-biting opener that sets the tone for the rest of the film, with something new and increasingly death-defying to face every day. This is not the kind of bomb squad you are used to seeing in movies, the sweaty techno-geeks who agonize over whether to cut the red wire or the blue wire; which wire to cut is the last thing these guys are worried about. In fact, Bravo Company’s point man (an impressive Jeremy Renner) seems to have few qualms about ripping chords willy-nilly from explosive devices and tossing them aside, easy as pie. The real danger comes from the people who gather around the scene, or watch from nearby storefronts and balconies, any one of whom could pull out a cell phone and remote control detonate the bomb at any second. The constant and unyielding tension created by this simple situation makes for an incredibly suspenseful two hours.
Solid work from Renner and Anthony Mackie as the team’s seasoned lookout are the icing on the cake, but the vast majority of credit must go to Ms. Bigelow. With this film, she puts on a master class in suspense, effortlessly sustaining an atmosphere of nerve-wracking tension throughout. Each scene is meticulously constructed for maximum impact, certainly thrilling, but never forgetting that the heart and soul of a story lies in its characters. She pulls a performance out of Renner that is both charismatic and disturbing, embodying the best and worse of what it means to be a dedicated soldier, while Mackie’s steely exterior hides a fragile soul constantly afraid of losing his comrades. These two men, their clashes, collaborations, and comraderie, are the backbone of the film, and Bigelow milks spot on performances from her two leads.
Undoubtedly the best war film since Three Kings, and in my opinion one of the best ever made about an American war post-1945, The Hurt Locker is a film you won’t soon forget. And if my instincts are correct, neither will Oscar.
AND...
The Big Red One: The Reconstruction (1980)
There’s a twenty-four-year-long story behind this version of The Big Red One. The original cut of Sam Fuller’s semi-autobiographical World War II drama was over four hours long, prompting the studio to take it from him and shear it down to under two hours. Despite the director’s highly vocal protests, this studio cut remained the only available version of the film until 2004, when critic Richard Schickel spurred an effort to “reconstruct” a cut closer in spirit to Fuller’s initial vision, using the original shooting script and all existing unused footage as guides. The result is The Reconstruction, a sprawling, two-hour-forty-minute mini-epic focusing on the experiences of some of the most jet-setting soldiers in WWII movie history.
Between 1942 and 1945, the four core members of the 1st Infantry Brigade’s 16th Division, led by the incomparable Lee Marvin, make their way from Algeria to Sicily to Omaha Beach to Belgium to Czechoslovakia. They fight in many battles together, share many laughs, and lose many comrades, so many that they eventually stop bothering to remember the names of new recruits. By the time the war ends, they have shared a lifetime of experiences.
Though a bit meandering, Fuller’s film is fascinating for a number of reasons. It’s core message that the only glory to be had in war is survival is punctuated by a healthy sense of the absurd and a focus on mishaps. The film opens with Lee Marvin stabbing a German soldier four hours after WWI has ended; true, he did not know the war was over, but his ignorance cost a man his life, which has to feel bad no matter what the circumstances. During the group’s liberation of a concentration camp in Czechoslovakia, Mark Hammill is so disturbed by what he sees that when he finds a Nazi soldier hiding in an oven, he cannot stop shooting him, even after the soldier has dead. It is small, emotionally intimate moments such as these that prove only someone who has experienced these events first hand could have made this film.
The Big Red One is highly personal, which is part of its appeal, but it is also engagingly constructed and very energetic. Its skewed sense of glory and heroism makes it unique in the genre, more along the lines of Full Metal Jacket and Three Kings than Saving Private Ryan. Well worth watching, One is a rather unexpected treat.
For more by Sam Fuller, check out his incredible racial allegory White Dog, made two years later in 1982.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Live Long and Prosper, J.J. Abrams
Star Trek (2009)
Over the last decade, as the Next Generation film franchise sank deeper and deeper into irrelevancy, questions began to arise regarding the fate of the USS Enterprise and its intrepid crew. Will we ever see them again? Does Professor X have the patience for anymore of these films? Are they really going to start making Deep Space Nine movies? An incredibly small percentage of the world’s population awaited the answers with frantic anticipation.
And then came director J.J. Abrams, the man who brought us the underrated Cloverfield a few years back, holding a camera, a script, lots of studio money, and a syringe. Without hesitation, he stuck the needle into the Star Trek movie universe and injected it with a shot of much needed amphetamine that (let’s face it) it had never had before. The result is arguably the most flat out enjoyable movie experience this side of Harry Potter, shitting all over the recent Star Wars and Indiana Jones disasters without bothering to flush.
Star Trek examines the roots of the original Enterprise crew, the circumstances surrounding their initial encounter, and their first major mission together. They are all here at their most youthful and energetic, a far cry from the doddering geezers some may remember from the original films: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekhov, Scottie, and Bones McCoy, fresh from the Federation’s Starfleet Academy in (where else?) San Francisco. They don't all get along at first, and their skills are not quite up to par (Sulu has trouble getting the Enterprise out of the dock), but they are soon forced to reconcile their differences in order to battle the threat posed by a vengeful Romulan named Nero (Eric Bana), who killed Kirk’s father and destroyed Spock’s home planet, mother included. Highlighted by a pair of inexplicable appearances by Tyler Perry and Winona Ryder, and a much more appropriate and enjoyable one by Leonard Nimoy, Star Trek is a pure adrenaline rush from start to finish.
To quote a friend with whom I saw the film, “It just hit all the right spots.” Sexual implications aside, he is absolutely correct: Abrams strikes a near perfect balance of humor, emotion, and bare-assed white-knuckle thrills. The casting hits the bull’s eye, the performances are pitch perfect, the script and pacing are relentless, and the sound effects (when heard at their very best) will blow you out of your seat and into the parking lot.
Seeing this film is a reminder of just how much fun can be had at the movies. The audience is right on board from the thrilling first sequence to the nostalgic concluding homage, with no breaks in between and no shortage of laughs and thrills. I am a bit disappointed to find that I have nothing bad to say about this film. Wait a minute, no I’m not. This is what an adventure movie should be. I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but I am eagerly looking forward to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan 2.
AND...
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
Probably the most famous of the original Star Trek film series (besides maybe the one with the Humpback Whales), The Wrath of Khan is a relatively solid but ultimately unsatisfying science fiction venture. Although it features a strong performance from Ricardo Montalban as Khan, and some particularly memorable moments (the brain sucking insect crawling into Chekhov’s ear, for example), it all amounts to little more than an overextended episode of the TV series, with few surprises and even less character development.
The plot concerns the exiled Khan and his squad of blonde, genetically engineered supermen, and their attempts to exact revenge against Admiral James T. Kirk (the smug, ever-wooden William Shatner), whom Khan blames for his wife’s death. The dastardly villain plans to do this by obtaining the barely explained Genesis device, which has the dual capability of creating life from scratch and completely eradicating it. Underdeveloped subplots concerning Kirk’s son and Khan’s seething hatred for the Enterprise crew (both of which were probably explained in the TV show, but will remain meaningless to the casual viewer) coupled with a simplistic, generally unexciting plotline, ultimately solidify this as a failed outing.
The main problem is that we never believe Khan has any chance whatsoever of defeating Kirk. Not only has he been wasting away on a desert planet for years, he is greatly outnumbered and flying a stolen Federation ship that is significantly smaller, weaker, and less impressive than the Enterprise. To top it all off, Kirk knows way more about Khan’s ship than Khan does, giving him the undisputed advantage in every one of their encounters. From first frame to last, Khan never stands a chance, and as a result, his defeat is more “snore” than “encore.”
Of interest to fans of the newest Star Trek entry is Wrath of Khan’s recurring reference to Kirk’s solution to the Kobayashi Maru test, which is a thematic and narrative centerpiece of the newer film. We also get to see the inspiration for Chris Pine’s take on the arrogant young Kirk, and Karl Urban’s mordant and hilarious Dr. McCoy, in William Shatner and DeForest Kelley’s respective performances. But in the end, give me the J.J. Abrams Trek over this middling relic any day, and I’ll go to sleep with a smile on my face.
Over the last decade, as the Next Generation film franchise sank deeper and deeper into irrelevancy, questions began to arise regarding the fate of the USS Enterprise and its intrepid crew. Will we ever see them again? Does Professor X have the patience for anymore of these films? Are they really going to start making Deep Space Nine movies? An incredibly small percentage of the world’s population awaited the answers with frantic anticipation.
And then came director J.J. Abrams, the man who brought us the underrated Cloverfield a few years back, holding a camera, a script, lots of studio money, and a syringe. Without hesitation, he stuck the needle into the Star Trek movie universe and injected it with a shot of much needed amphetamine that (let’s face it) it had never had before. The result is arguably the most flat out enjoyable movie experience this side of Harry Potter, shitting all over the recent Star Wars and Indiana Jones disasters without bothering to flush.
Star Trek examines the roots of the original Enterprise crew, the circumstances surrounding their initial encounter, and their first major mission together. They are all here at their most youthful and energetic, a far cry from the doddering geezers some may remember from the original films: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekhov, Scottie, and Bones McCoy, fresh from the Federation’s Starfleet Academy in (where else?) San Francisco. They don't all get along at first, and their skills are not quite up to par (Sulu has trouble getting the Enterprise out of the dock), but they are soon forced to reconcile their differences in order to battle the threat posed by a vengeful Romulan named Nero (Eric Bana), who killed Kirk’s father and destroyed Spock’s home planet, mother included. Highlighted by a pair of inexplicable appearances by Tyler Perry and Winona Ryder, and a much more appropriate and enjoyable one by Leonard Nimoy, Star Trek is a pure adrenaline rush from start to finish.
To quote a friend with whom I saw the film, “It just hit all the right spots.” Sexual implications aside, he is absolutely correct: Abrams strikes a near perfect balance of humor, emotion, and bare-assed white-knuckle thrills. The casting hits the bull’s eye, the performances are pitch perfect, the script and pacing are relentless, and the sound effects (when heard at their very best) will blow you out of your seat and into the parking lot.
Seeing this film is a reminder of just how much fun can be had at the movies. The audience is right on board from the thrilling first sequence to the nostalgic concluding homage, with no breaks in between and no shortage of laughs and thrills. I am a bit disappointed to find that I have nothing bad to say about this film. Wait a minute, no I’m not. This is what an adventure movie should be. I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but I am eagerly looking forward to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan 2.
AND...
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
Probably the most famous of the original Star Trek film series (besides maybe the one with the Humpback Whales), The Wrath of Khan is a relatively solid but ultimately unsatisfying science fiction venture. Although it features a strong performance from Ricardo Montalban as Khan, and some particularly memorable moments (the brain sucking insect crawling into Chekhov’s ear, for example), it all amounts to little more than an overextended episode of the TV series, with few surprises and even less character development.
The plot concerns the exiled Khan and his squad of blonde, genetically engineered supermen, and their attempts to exact revenge against Admiral James T. Kirk (the smug, ever-wooden William Shatner), whom Khan blames for his wife’s death. The dastardly villain plans to do this by obtaining the barely explained Genesis device, which has the dual capability of creating life from scratch and completely eradicating it. Underdeveloped subplots concerning Kirk’s son and Khan’s seething hatred for the Enterprise crew (both of which were probably explained in the TV show, but will remain meaningless to the casual viewer) coupled with a simplistic, generally unexciting plotline, ultimately solidify this as a failed outing.
The main problem is that we never believe Khan has any chance whatsoever of defeating Kirk. Not only has he been wasting away on a desert planet for years, he is greatly outnumbered and flying a stolen Federation ship that is significantly smaller, weaker, and less impressive than the Enterprise. To top it all off, Kirk knows way more about Khan’s ship than Khan does, giving him the undisputed advantage in every one of their encounters. From first frame to last, Khan never stands a chance, and as a result, his defeat is more “snore” than “encore.”
Of interest to fans of the newest Star Trek entry is Wrath of Khan’s recurring reference to Kirk’s solution to the Kobayashi Maru test, which is a thematic and narrative centerpiece of the newer film. We also get to see the inspiration for Chris Pine’s take on the arrogant young Kirk, and Karl Urban’s mordant and hilarious Dr. McCoy, in William Shatner and DeForest Kelley’s respective performances. But in the end, give me the J.J. Abrams Trek over this middling relic any day, and I’ll go to sleep with a smile on my face.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
What's That in Your Food?
Food, Inc. (2009)
Back in the day, by which I mean before the MacDonald brothers brought Henry Ford’s assembly line methodology to their rapidly expanding fast food empire, the food we ate had a vital characteristic that we seem to have taken for granted: we knew, to a large extent, where it came from. This was important, for reasons that Food, Inc. examines with often shocking clarity. Unless you are already familiar with the frightening intricacies of factory farming, the oppressive relationship between multi-national corporations and America’s farmers, and the ramifications (social, cultural, medical, and environmental) of an extremely industrialized system of food production, you really should see this movie. I don’t want to sound extreme (okay, maybe I do), but your life may very well depend on it.
I won’t say much about the details of the film itself, as such things are better absorbed by the viewer, but I will say that some of the facts are jaw-dropping, stomach churning, and mind-fucking. And the most disturbing part is, the damaging characteristics of this system do not apply to the food industry alone. One of the farmers interviewed in the film says it best when he observes (loosely paraphrasing here), “The world we live in today is run by technicians, people who view an animal as just a mechanical and scientific series of chemical reactions and nerve functions. If you can view an animal that way, what ramifications do you think that has on how you view your interactions with other people, and even other countries?” He says all this while pulling out a dead chicken’s stomach through its asshole, but the point comes across. This is not just about food.
If the film has flaws, it is these: the structure is episodic and halting, which takes away slightly from its momentum, and the subjects are a bit broad, very basic for someone who already has a significant breadth of knowledge on the subject. There is also a ridiculously overlong, Inconvenient Truth-style textual call to action right before the end credits roll that seems a bit of an overkill. But for the curious but inexperienced, and those who are concerned with the future of this country and of this planet (yes, that was a guilt-trip), this film is essential viewing.
AND...
Soylent Green (1973)
Dystopia has long been one of cinema’s favorite themes. The negative possible future ramifications of today’s actions and policies have inspired a global spattering of filmmakers, from Jean-Luc Godard (Alphaville) and Francois Truffaut (Fahrenheit 451) to George Miller (The Road Warrior) and Terry Gilliam (Brazil), making it one of film’s more universal sub-genres. Perhaps two of the most famous entries are a pair from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s starring Charlton Heston: the sequel-spawning science fiction classic Planet of the Apes (1968), and a lesser known but still highly influential ecological nightmare called Soylent Green.
Green takes place in the distant year 2022, in a disastrously overpopulated New York City. Eco conditions spawned by (gasp) global warming have left the world a muggy, sweat-soaked greenhouse, where people sleep on crowded tenement staircases and eat brightly colored processed food cubes known respectively as Soylent Red, Soylent Blue, and the title-inspiring Soylen Green. Heston plays an alcoholic cop (is there any other kind in movies?) investigating the murder of a corporate tycoon played by frequent Orson Welles-collaborator Joseph Cotten, a murder whose causes and ramifications are far more horrific than he could have ever imagined.
When all is said and done, Soylent Green is asking essentially the same questions as Food, Inc., namely, “Do you really know where your food is coming from?” And interestingly enough, the problems plaguing Green’s future society are generally the same being addressed in the newer film, specifically the abuse of our natural resources, mass corporatization, and over-industrialization. How oddly prescient. You’d think more people would have seen it coming.
Although the film’s eerie resemblance to the modern world alone makes it worth seeing, the plot is full of awkward developments and a less than heart-racing central mystery. Heston’s romance with Cotten’s ex-girlfriend comes out of nowhere, and the puzzle that is meant to drive the plot forward always feels like an afterthought, playing second-fiddle to atmosphere, setting, and imagery. It fails to build suspense, and as a result, the pacing drags in numerous spots. Luckily, the film is not very long (it clocks in at 97 minutes), and more than makes up for its narrative flaws with a simple yet highly effective production design.
The frame is constantly full of dust and crowds of people, infused with a hazy golden-brown glow that evokes a windy desert more than a bustling metropolis. Characters are always dirty and drenched in sweat; just watching it makes you want to turn on the fan while taking a shower. Depleted resources, specifically real food, are valued commodities, turning every character who sees them and does not already have them into a thief. But perhaps the most affecting aspect of the film is its juxtaposition of modern urban hell with the more natural, pastoral past, showcased in a memorable sequence featuring the wonderful Edward G. Robinson. Overall, the film is a complete triumph of production design, perfectly conjuring a tangible sense of time and place in spite of an underdeveloped plot.
The final revelation is one of the most endlessly parodied in film history, but remains the primary reason for the movie’s notoriety to this day. Whether or not you are shocked or surprised by it, Soylent Green is certainly an interesting film-going experience, if primarily because of its evocative atmosphere rather than its plot.
Back in the day, by which I mean before the MacDonald brothers brought Henry Ford’s assembly line methodology to their rapidly expanding fast food empire, the food we ate had a vital characteristic that we seem to have taken for granted: we knew, to a large extent, where it came from. This was important, for reasons that Food, Inc. examines with often shocking clarity. Unless you are already familiar with the frightening intricacies of factory farming, the oppressive relationship between multi-national corporations and America’s farmers, and the ramifications (social, cultural, medical, and environmental) of an extremely industrialized system of food production, you really should see this movie. I don’t want to sound extreme (okay, maybe I do), but your life may very well depend on it.
I won’t say much about the details of the film itself, as such things are better absorbed by the viewer, but I will say that some of the facts are jaw-dropping, stomach churning, and mind-fucking. And the most disturbing part is, the damaging characteristics of this system do not apply to the food industry alone. One of the farmers interviewed in the film says it best when he observes (loosely paraphrasing here), “The world we live in today is run by technicians, people who view an animal as just a mechanical and scientific series of chemical reactions and nerve functions. If you can view an animal that way, what ramifications do you think that has on how you view your interactions with other people, and even other countries?” He says all this while pulling out a dead chicken’s stomach through its asshole, but the point comes across. This is not just about food.
If the film has flaws, it is these: the structure is episodic and halting, which takes away slightly from its momentum, and the subjects are a bit broad, very basic for someone who already has a significant breadth of knowledge on the subject. There is also a ridiculously overlong, Inconvenient Truth-style textual call to action right before the end credits roll that seems a bit of an overkill. But for the curious but inexperienced, and those who are concerned with the future of this country and of this planet (yes, that was a guilt-trip), this film is essential viewing.
AND...
Soylent Green (1973)
Dystopia has long been one of cinema’s favorite themes. The negative possible future ramifications of today’s actions and policies have inspired a global spattering of filmmakers, from Jean-Luc Godard (Alphaville) and Francois Truffaut (Fahrenheit 451) to George Miller (The Road Warrior) and Terry Gilliam (Brazil), making it one of film’s more universal sub-genres. Perhaps two of the most famous entries are a pair from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s starring Charlton Heston: the sequel-spawning science fiction classic Planet of the Apes (1968), and a lesser known but still highly influential ecological nightmare called Soylent Green.
Green takes place in the distant year 2022, in a disastrously overpopulated New York City. Eco conditions spawned by (gasp) global warming have left the world a muggy, sweat-soaked greenhouse, where people sleep on crowded tenement staircases and eat brightly colored processed food cubes known respectively as Soylent Red, Soylent Blue, and the title-inspiring Soylen Green. Heston plays an alcoholic cop (is there any other kind in movies?) investigating the murder of a corporate tycoon played by frequent Orson Welles-collaborator Joseph Cotten, a murder whose causes and ramifications are far more horrific than he could have ever imagined.
When all is said and done, Soylent Green is asking essentially the same questions as Food, Inc., namely, “Do you really know where your food is coming from?” And interestingly enough, the problems plaguing Green’s future society are generally the same being addressed in the newer film, specifically the abuse of our natural resources, mass corporatization, and over-industrialization. How oddly prescient. You’d think more people would have seen it coming.
Although the film’s eerie resemblance to the modern world alone makes it worth seeing, the plot is full of awkward developments and a less than heart-racing central mystery. Heston’s romance with Cotten’s ex-girlfriend comes out of nowhere, and the puzzle that is meant to drive the plot forward always feels like an afterthought, playing second-fiddle to atmosphere, setting, and imagery. It fails to build suspense, and as a result, the pacing drags in numerous spots. Luckily, the film is not very long (it clocks in at 97 minutes), and more than makes up for its narrative flaws with a simple yet highly effective production design.
The frame is constantly full of dust and crowds of people, infused with a hazy golden-brown glow that evokes a windy desert more than a bustling metropolis. Characters are always dirty and drenched in sweat; just watching it makes you want to turn on the fan while taking a shower. Depleted resources, specifically real food, are valued commodities, turning every character who sees them and does not already have them into a thief. But perhaps the most affecting aspect of the film is its juxtaposition of modern urban hell with the more natural, pastoral past, showcased in a memorable sequence featuring the wonderful Edward G. Robinson. Overall, the film is a complete triumph of production design, perfectly conjuring a tangible sense of time and place in spite of an underdeveloped plot.
The final revelation is one of the most endlessly parodied in film history, but remains the primary reason for the movie’s notoriety to this day. Whether or not you are shocked or surprised by it, Soylent Green is certainly an interesting film-going experience, if primarily because of its evocative atmosphere rather than its plot.
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