Style Sunday.

Natalie Portman is exquisite in custom made Rodarte for the premiere of her movie Black Swan in Venice last week.
They say never to wear red for a red carpet but the Swarovski crystal appliques and asymmetrical top make this look a stunner.


Few female directors, or directors period, are as good dressers as Sofia Coppola. She's a perfect embodiment of la dolce vita in this simple Louis Vuitton resort dress.
For those who think the little black dress is dead, see how Sofia reinvents its use.

Sheet-y Saturday.

Where we take a look at posters for upcoming features.


Today we have two examples of how to do the poster for an adult thriller. One of them's bad, the other's simply outstanding.
First up is the lazy, lazy Fair Game design. I'm really interested in this movie but the marketing team seems to want to make me look elsewhere. First up was that by-the-numbers trailer that made the plot seem like a Lifetime drama and not the actual, too amazing to be real, spy story it is. Now there's this lackluster poster that seems to have been made by the kind of person who had trouble staying inside the line when coloring as a child (those titles couldn't be less symmetrical if they tried! It's impossible to read what this poster has to say with words everywhere!).
Then there's the fact that the actors seem to be in completely different movies. Naomi Watts seems to be auditioning to play Matt Damon in a Bourne poster (not coincidentally Doug Liman directed this and the first Bourne installment) and Sean Penn seems to be still playing Harvey Milk.


Next we have this incredible design for, wait for it, the new Paul Haggis movie.
That was enough of a surprise for me before digging into the richness of the poster and how it plays with the "movie star floating head" in an unexpected way. Reminds me of that poster form Premonition with Sandra Bullock's face made out of branches.
Excellent all over.

Seen anything interesting in your theater lobby?

Why Can't I Have This Movie Right Now?

A ojos cerrados **

Director: Hernán Jiménez
Cast: Carol Sanabria, Anabelle Ulloa, Carlos Luis Zamora

A ojos cerrados is the kind of movie that relies on basic, sometimes cheap, means of manipulation to secure its "connection" with the audience. In its particular case it uses cute senior citizens to win half the battle in spectator acceptance.
When the movie begins, we meet Gabo (Zamora) and Maga (Ulloa) a couple who have been married for decades.
They have breakfast, quarrel, go shopping, sit in rocking chairs and do almost everything together. They live with their granddaughter Delia (Sanabria), a big shot executive on the rise who disregards her superior's orders but always gets the job done.
At home though, Delia reverts to a childlike state and rests on her grandma's lap while pondering the whys of life.
Things change when Maga passes away, leaving Gabo in a state of limbo with which Delia must deal on her own. They are surprised to learn that grandma wanted her ashes to be spread in the Caribbean Sea and here the director recurs to yet another handbook method of manipulation: the road movie.
During the trip to the beach, grandpa and granddaughter will obviously get to bond and help each other, but here the film runs into its biggest mistake, because we never really understand why they should be bonding to begin with.
We assume from the start that Gabo has become a father figure to Delia, so when the film begins treating them like strangers it gets lost in its own attempts at playing with feelings.
What's evident about A ojos cerrados is how disconnected the filmmakers are from the characters. These people feel like they were obviously written for the purpose of existing for the film's running time and then be just over and done with.
The characters then, are more prototypes (not even archetypes) of actual human beings and become puppets that move only to please the filmmakers' wishes.
This whole game is even more disturbing because the characters are practically asexual. We never know what happened to Delia's parents and even if an obvious explanation isn't necessary, the movie seems to pretend they never existed.
They obviously are the main connection between Delia and her grandparents and by cutting them off (more like castrating them actually) the film loses any evidence of sexual awareness.
Delia never mentions friends and much less boyfriends and her grandparents, straight out of a fairy tale, seem to have found her in a basket.
In the process, given how conservative Latin American society can be, turns the grandparents into saints and the movie into a phony attempt to create nostalgia for universal values that are basically concealing the truth

Life During Wartime ***

Director: Todd Solondz
Cast: Shirley Henderson, Allison Janney, Ally Sheedy
Ciarán Hinds, Paul Reubens, Michael K. Williams, Michael Lerner
Dylan Riley Snyder, Christopher Marquette, Renée Taylor
Charlotte Rampling

Last we saw the Jordan sisters-Joy, Trish and Helen-they were going through some heavy issues. Joy, was trying to overcome her lover's suicide and find an emotionally balanced man, Trish was coming to terms with her husband Bill's arrest on charges of pedophilia and Helen was coping with the burdens of artistic expression.
The year was 1998, the film was Happiness and all these characters were being played by different actors.
It's impossible not to wonder why Solondz would want to revisit these characters in the first place. These weren't people you exactly wanted to spend more time with; they were damaged, cruel, painful to watch and most of the time impossible to empathize with.
Perhaps this is why he cast new actors, to provide these familiar people with different shades, to make their return easier to assimilate or is there something more metaphysical to all this and the drastic change is meant to symbolize how much these people have actually been transformed (it's also interesting to wonder if this film will appeal to those who haven't seen the original).
Joy is now played by Henderson who infuses her with an elfish vulnerability. The film starts in the same way Happiness did and for a second or two we wonder if Solondz is trying to parody his own movie. Joy even says she feels "just a little deja vu" and as the film advances, the screenplays throws in all sorts of meta references and stunt casting (Reubens plays the ghost of Joy's ex-lover and it's inevitable to avoid associating another character with Reuben's own past).
Janney's Trish is a sad combination of hope and regret, the actress tones down on the bitchiness of her predecessor and turns Trish into someone a bit more human. Her relationship with her son Timmy (Snyder) is the equivalent of the one her husband (Hinds) had with their son Billy (Marquette) in the prequel.
Watching her discuss rape with her child doesn't have the morbidness one would expect. It's not as if Solondz gets pleasure out of scandalizing, it just shows how these characters must cope with the complications of being parents, for what exactly can be defined as good parenting?
Are they better off by concealing sexual concepts from their children or are they doing good by being explicit about what goes on during intercourse. In fact one of the film's "twists" has a lot to do with misconception and mis-communication on this subject.
The overall theme of the film is the quest to fulfill the adage of "forgive and forget", Solondz asks us how are these characters supposed to act when their country is at war.
Timmy brings up terrorism all the time and he interrogates his mom's boyfriend (Lerner) about his opinions on matter he finds imperious.
But what are we supposed to make of the characters' coldness, emotional messes, perversions and such, when the fact is that the war mentioned isn't even being fought in their country?
Are they shielding themselves from accepting that maybe they too have responsibility in their own lives? Before they can move on and forget we have to wonder if these characters will be able to forgive themselves for starters.

"The bigger I get, the smaller you make me feel."

Elia Kazan is one of my three favorite directors. He never defined a trademark, yet watching his films you kinda know he was the man behind them.
Perhaps the way in which he aimed for a crude realism (without approaching documentary-like filmmaking) that still got the best out of method acting or maybe the way in which he always made black and white seem like the way life actually is.
The one thing I know is that not two of his movies are the same, which is why I wasn't too surprised watching A Face in the Crowd for the first time.

Not only is it an example of the remarkable work Kazan got out of his actors but also proves what might've been his only trademark of sorts: his interest in touching the subjects no one else would. He went from satirizing fetish in Baby Doll, condemning antisemitism in Gentleman's Agreement and creating one of the most disturbing psycho-sexual tragedies in A Streetcar named Desire. His works were usually condemned by conservatives which is why A Face in the Crowd probably seemed innocuous back in the day considering the things he'd done before. Today however, the film works as a scary parable for what the media can do.

My favorite shot in the film is a meta moment that encompasses three different levels addressed near the film's climax.



First we have the obvious, when for the first time we see Lonesome Rhodes (Andy Griffith) as who he really is.
We hear who he really is when his producer decides it's time to unmask the man who went from simpleton to monster. She opens an audio channel while the TV show credits run so that we can learn what the man in the television set thinks about us.
The catch here is that the we, isn't the film's audience but the TV audience within the movie. All throughout A Face in the Crowd, we have been granted with backstage passes to see what goes on in these people's private lives.
In a way we have worked as accomplices by going along with Lonesome's game.

This realization takes us to the next level of interpretation for we can't help but wonder (and I'm sure Kazan did it intentionally) what the filmmakers were thinking about the people watching the movie in the theater. After all A Face in the Crowd might be no different than any of Lonesome's media products.
It's made by an entertainer, it has a purpose and there's more going behind closed doors than we could even imagine.
Elia Kazan wanted people to question the media. To question what they were watching and hell, to even question a movie that questioned those very things.

Last but not least we have the "produced by Marcia Jeffries" title card which seems to go by innocently but contains a tragedy of almost Greek proportions to it.
In that moment, Marcia (a wonderful Patricia Neal), is finally aware that in order to destroy Lonesome she must also destroy herself.
The look on Neal's expressive eyes is heartbreaking and terrifying, she's a combination of Dr. Frankenstein realizing she created a monster and a mythological deity (think Prometheus) coming to terms with the sad notion that she might've given too much to someone who deserved so little.
Was Kazan suggesting we weren't ready to handle the media? Makes one wonder what he would have to say about the relentless advancements in current technology.
This also makes us wonder if all people behind the media are as considerate as Marcia, the obvious answer would be no but we are left questioning the ethical implications that come with creating media products and therefore once again are driven to the idea of gods as ultimate creators.

Watching most of Kazan's films one gets the feeling that nothing really special is going on but this shot proves that if you take a closer look, they reveal unimaginable and unexpected depths.


As a bonus, and since I didn't get to do Bring It On with everyone else last week, here's the virginal Lee Remick (she was 22 and making her film debut!) giving Kirsten Dunst a run for her money in the cheering profession.



This post is part of the The Film Experience's Hit Me With Your Best Shot series.

La Yuma ***

Director: Florence Jaugey
Cast: Alma Blanco, Gabriel Benavides, Rigoberto Mayorga
María Esther López, Juan Carlos García, Eliézer Traña
Guillermo Martínez, Salvador Espinoza, Sobeyda Téllez

On the surface and narrowed down to its most basic elements, La Yuma is a film about sports, growing up and fate. Spelled out like that it sounds like something you've seen a million times before, and perhaps you have, but to deny it a chance because of that would be to miss out on a refreshing, utterly exciting experience.
Set in Managua, Nicaragua and directed by French expatriate Florence Jaguey, the film centers on the life of Yuma (Blanco), a young woman living in one of the city's poorest neighborhoods.
At home she has to endure her mother's (Téllez) indifference, her stepfather's abuse and has to look out after her two younger siblings.
She's mascot of sorts to a gang because their leader, the vicious Culebra (Mayorga), is in love with her and her closest confidante is a transvestite prostitute called La Cubana (García).
Yuma's escape from all this is boxing. She trains at a humble gym where she slowly begins to rise but the film isn't entirely about her sporting life.
It's more of a complex character study that just happens to have elements that might sound familiar, yet structurally and in execution the film is more akin to Neorrealism than Rocky.
Driven by a phenomenal performance by Blanco (making her screen debut) the film develops at a pace that's neither rushed nor languorous.
The director chooses well by having Yuma in almost every scene-it is her story after all-because she is such a rich character that you just want to learn more about her.
Foul mouthed, aggressive yet warm and seducing, her performance is a thing of naturalistic wonder. Yuma could've been in peril of becoming a caricature or a selfconscious archetype in the hands of a lesser actress but Blanco inhabits her like a professional. Watching her move with such assured grace and confidence gives the film a realistic quality that make the characters all the more compelling.
It's interesting to see how the filmmakers worked on the screenplay so that it becomes a very personal story that also encompasses a larger truth. The main focus might be on Yuma but accompanying her on her daily life we get glimpses of the reality in Managua; one that might've been too cruel or too raw if done in nonfiction but here works because the rich details compliment the main story.
Perhaps most fascinating of all is the way in which Jaugey structures her film. At first it takes on a very episodic nature (there's a prologue that doesn't say much about what will happen next but sets the mood brilliantly) but slowly reveals itself to be shaped in a rather straightforward arc.
It mainly follows Yuma. The characters around her are supporting in the strictest sense without becoming accessories and the actors playing them are fantastic (María Esther López is a delicious scene stealer as Yuma's employer, the sassy shop owner Scarlett).
There is also the predominant theme of fate and the director questioning if one can make one's own or if in fact, there's nothing we can do to change it?
This is exemplified beautifully in the love story between Yuma and Ernesto (Benavides) a middle class university student who meets Yuma through an apparent coincidence.
At first we're meant to understand that Yuma herself is shaping the path she wants for herself, after all she spends most of the movie expressing how much she wants to leave, even looking down at those who want to stay behind.
Yet it's impossible, especially for those who tend to be more skeptical-which ironically would lead their position to resemble something like spirituality-to think that a simple human being isn't able to do so much and they might ask themselves, if in fact, Yuma's life, as driven by its protagonist as it seems, isn't already "written".
The truth is that those debates are better left for the audience, given that Yuma probably would have no time, or desire, to listen to existentialist issues; after all she's all about moving forward (notice how the camera often shoots her from behind, as if it too is trying to catch up her) and in the film's moving denouement we are reminded that life is too relentless for us to wait for it to happen.