Quantum of Solace

Something about James Bond is different. Particularly Daniel Craig's Bond. He seems to remember more. His body and mind are scarred. Despite his words in the opening sequence of Casino Royale, the kills don't seem to come any easier. Or rather the deaths. Those seem to cause the most trouble in this new Bond adventure. The dapper and glib secret agent appears to be only a few weeks removed from the events of Casino Royale. In fact, this film represents probably the only recognizable true sequel in Bond history, which is very appropriate considering the direction of the franchise. The evolution of the hero remains the key in this film and far overshadows the story. Longtime fans of the series (assuming they haven't jumped ship with the introduction of Blond Bond) can take "solace" in nods to older films and maybe yet another senselessly complex world domination plot, though not an especially imaginative one.

Let's begin with a breakneck chase through a crowded, narrow mountain pass. Flashy cars seem a bit flashier when all we see is… well… flashes, but the camera work here in Bourne Identity fashion is almost nauseating. Suffice it to say that if it weren't for a couple of long aerial shots you wouldn't know what you were looking at. From here we meet an old enemy (anyone who saw the last film will remember him, though no one can explain why) who happens to work for an organization so secret that the secret agents are unaware of it. One of the more interesting asides, uttered by the always phenomenal Judi Dench as M: "When someone says that they have people everywhere, you expect it to be hyperbole. Lots of people say that. Florists use that expression. It doesn't mean that they have people in the bloody room." What's most interesting about M and Bond's relationship here is the role reversal. This is a much more serious Bond with much fewer one-liners and a much higher body count. M, for all her blustering is much more jocular; it suits the story and it's one of this latest series' high points.

Anyway, the film marches on for the rest of its 106 minute runtime with various subplots and Bond series staples—a lecherous general/would be dictator, a wealthy environmentalist cum financial megalomaniac, a shadowy secret organization—with varying degrees of success and finality (we never know much more about the organization than M or Bond—smells like a sequel). As I said, there's a lot that goes on, but little of that matters much. In the end, the bad guys are caput and the good guys-good guy-is left standing.

What is most intriguing about this film is Bond himself. He is much more interesting than in some of his past lives. The introduction and "murder" of his love interest have provided considerable pathos for the Brit hitman. What's ironic is that despite his rather volatile modus operandi (he shoots first and rarely gets any questions answered) this Bond seems much more caring than other iterations. There is something in Craig's performance that seems to recall every bullet, and every kill. It's nice work.

This film was written by Paul Haggis (among others) which could explain why it makes a lot more sense than its predecessor; there is almost nothing that will confuse. The faithful will notice a nod to the 1964 Bond film Goldfinger.

How to speak Coen

Given the relative recent success of the Coen brothers, particularly in light of last year's amazing Oscar run, I thought it might be helpful to explain a few things. 'No Country for Old Men' provided many movie goers, especially younger film fans, with the first true mainstream introduction to the prolific pair's style. For many of those fans, it was a bit of a rude awakening. Given the films strong thematic and allegoric elements and its dubious and highly debated "ending", the film stringently stratified viewers into opposing factions; those who loved it and those who hated it. Of course the Academy fit into the first category, but the viewing public as a whole was divided.

In my experience, these diverging viewpoints tend to follow the Coens' films. I can only assume that it's because of the filmmakers' penchant for quirky and stylistic pieces, but regardless of the reason, the Coens are not considered by many as the impactful and visionary directors, writers, and producers they are. In an attempt to do my part to educate the general film community, permit me to point out a few things that might make their silver screen efforts a bit more palatable.

What seems to be the most pressing and often expressed concern with the Coens' work is their tendency to "end" their films. Often (as is the case with Fargo, The Man Who Knew Too Much, etc.) the Coens' stories are not possessed of a true denouement. This is the most noticeable of the Coens quirks though it isn't a habit that is singular to them. Their movies don't finish, they just end.

To the sensibilities of the typical American film viewer, this is odd, because the three act story structure (beginning, middle, and end) is so ingrained in our cultural dramatic history. American films are formulaic. We are used to seeing very straightforward, very easily understood works of cinema. However, the Coens work hearkens to other film traditions, particularly the European traditions which have evolved with a much wider array of narrative subject matter, structural set-ups and narrative devices.

In American films characters are typically solely present for narrative function. In this regard the Coens are unique. Like only a few other successful filmmakers, their characters tend to function better as archetypal embodiments of ideas. This is particularly difficult to achieve with out dealing with certain subject matter, which is why I suspect the Coens frequently pen stories involving easily qualifiable characters (policemen, killers, etc.). Using these particular characters allows the Coens to easily categorize characters by virtue of their personal philosophies or actions (the female cop in Fargo, Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men, The Barber in The Man Who Knew Too Much, etc.).

The last of the Coens' characteristics is their tendency to write plots about characters caught up in extraordinary circumstances. In that sense they are modern film noire-auteurs. Their plots are usually winding and generally really explode with an early discovery, decision, action that the main character would have been ambivalent toward in normal circumstances. These early experiences bring the characters into the world in a new and more convincing way that is much more involving and engrossing for the viewer.

The strength of the Coens is the fact that they don't fit the mold.

While our tendency to make films using the Syd Fields method (again, three act story structure) is apparent in the majority of modern American theatre fare, it is definitely one of the greater weaknesses of the American cinematic marketplace. From month to month it gets hard to distinguish one explosion/gore/sex/quip fest from another. Rarely do we get the chance to glimpse work of any substantive novelty, and when we do, the majority of these films limp along at the box office before being put out to pasture to HBO Signature or the DVD market.

In a time of nearly indistinguishable releases in the theatres, the Coens' work separates them and carves a niche for fans of their techniques. If you keep these things in mind, you will be able to appreciate their films much more.

Miracle at St. Anna

It's only been a few days since I posted my piece on Spike Lee. In light of those comments and in the interest of fairness I would like to say the following:

Miracle at St. Anna is one of the best Spike Lee movies of the last decade.

Okay, so that may or may not mean much depending on what you think of Lee's last few years, but the fact remains that 'Miracle' is a thoughtful and incredibly evocative film. It is perhaps one of the best "war" movies since Saving Private Ryan. It's ironic, for a film so low on fighting scenes. In a way, that's what makes the film work. The few "actual war" scenes are sparse, but their gravitas is only compounded by their rarity. In the post-Gladiator era, we spend our time searching for these scenes, but it's the others that actually strengthen the film. More on that later.

There are scenes of violence and chaos in this film that will haunt you. They are as visceral and guttural as you would expect from a WWII film, but their horror comes from Lee's technique. Bodies litter the streets of Italian towns, blood fades into the waters of low level rivers and gun shells blow limbs from limbs. We've seen it before, but Lee's camera lingers on the carnage. He swoops, low over bodies and shoots high over the mountains of the Italian countryside. It's not altogether unheard of, but something about Lee's work here seems novel.

In his earlier films Lee often included an extended tracking shot that would follow his characters throughout many of the locale's of the film (the last shot in School Daze—"Wake Up"), and his work here seems reminiscent of it, if not a little more appropriate in this context. From the film, which is based on a true story, it seems fairly apparent that Lee has a great deal of respect for his subject matter. He manages to strike a delicate balance between utterly overwhelming his audience with the indiscriminate and cruel reality of war and ambivalently taking in the carnage himself not altogether certain whether or not you can make judgments about good and evil in wartime.

In a way, the ambiguity of ethics in wartime is the idea of the film. Of course, the staples of Spike Lee's films are present and accounted for (racism, sexuality, etc.), but it seems that Lee has stepped outside of his politics and tried to understand his characters and their role in the world around them. They are confused, and rightfully so. Soldiers in a war for a country that treats them worse than POW's, Lee's motley crew muse on everything from the state of Blacks in the US and abroad to the existence and concern of God himself. It never feels forced, and almost every scene seems to arise from the characters individual reaction to their situation, as second class warriors behind enemy lines. They seem doomed from the start, not because of their position, maybe because of their time.

For the first time in a Spike Lee film the technique (camera angles, shot choice, length of shots, etc.) is the center of the show. The film is honest and does what Lee's Inside Man sets out to do. It raises questions, and answers them with the only answers we have. C'est la vie.

Spike Lee has long been maligned as an idea director who doesn't do things technically correct. Combined with his propensity for racial and social subject matter, Lee's films exist on a plane all alone. It's hard to say he's better or worse than anyone else, because for better or worse, there is no one else.

The People vs. Spike

I have breaking news for many members of the African American movie going public. Spike Lee is not the first and definitely will not be the last black filmmaker in the post exploitation era of African American film. I know… shocking, especially coming from a young African American male, let alone a future filmmaker who hopes to reach the level of his Lee-ness. But before I am crucified in the court of public opinion I would like to call attention to a bit of evidence.

Exhibit A… Has anyone ever heard of John Singleton? F. Gary Gray? Antoine Fuqua? Tim Story? Kasi Lemmons? Thomas Carter? And yes… *sigh*…Tyler Perry?

Why not? Each of these filmmakers has had critical and commercial success domestically. In light of that particular fact it seems interesting that our conversation tends begin and end with Spike Lee when we discuss the modern Black film community.

Exhibit B… What about the history? To be honest, outside of Oscar Micheaux (on the off chance that most of us know who that is) I find it hard to believe that the average Black film fan or student can name a filmmaker who has made any significant contributions to the field BSE (Before the Spike era). Can we really consider ourselves fans, aficionados or anything in between if we know nothing of the history that we claim has such significance?

Exhibit C… Which of Lee's films have we actually seen? Personally, I am a fan of Lee's work, but I definitely haven't seen them all. I make no apologies for that. I would like to know more of his work, but I am more interested in becoming a well rounded film critic and fan, than a walking resume for Spike.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would never question Spike Lee's contribution to the legacy of Black film. But let us not forget, it is a legacy, and it goes on.

I know you are probably ready to yank my membership to the Spike Lee fan club but let's consider his actual contribution to that legacy. For all his storytelling ability, Spike Lee has never won an Oscar, and has been nominated for exactly as many as John Singleton who is probably considered the more "safe" of the two directors.

In my closing argument, I want to apologize. To all those who believed they had a handle on all Black cinema because they saw "Do the Right Thing" and "Malcolm X", I am sorry, but there is much more to our contribution than that. Spike Lee is a voice. One voice, albeit one with an incredible singularity of vision and an intensely devoted following. But there are others. Black directors are responsible for Training Day, Fantastic Four, Tears of the Sun, The Italian Job, Four Brothers, Eve's Bayou, Barbershop, Something New, and other good films too numerous to list.

For hundreds of years in this country our contributions as a people have been reduced, discounted, and pigeonholed. Let's not be a part of the problem. I leave you with a quote from the Bible.

"My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge."

I rest my case.

All that being said, I am going to see Miracle at St. Anna this weekend. You should too.

Wanted vs. Dark Knight

So I saw The Dark Knight.

Amid the admittedly somewhat atypical summer popcorn fair (read- WANTED) I was positive it would stand out in the minds of box office groupies like myself this summer. It was a good summer for the biz. A lot of blue chip efforts made big splashes, but I'm not sure The Dark Knight (TDK) was among them. Did any of us doubt its potential?

Not me. I doubt you did either.

Turns out, we were right, or the US government has found a clever way to disguise roughly $518 million of Iraq war expenses.

In either case, I, like most film geeks, was utterly thrilled and overwhelmed by the film as well as its beyond impressive box office performance. Yes, I am one of those guys.

I was excited. Most of my friends were too. It was understandable considering Batman had been one of my favorite characters since before I read my first novel (and long after).

"Are you kidding?," a friend asked. "Wanted was way better than Dark Knight!"

I know. I was thinking the same thing. So... where do we go from here? Well, as it turns out, against the odds, I attempted to take pity on him and sway him to the Dark side, so to speak.

According to Friend X, Wanted was just more "entertaining".

Maybe. In his defense, I'm not sure I can argue that TDK entertained him more.

The fact is that even with a film as undeniably good as TDK there will always be room for rebuttal. No matter how many Spiderman 3 fans offer it.

I began this article with the intent of writing about the merits of TDK as an Oscar contender, but I suppose that's apparent. Or maybe for a later post.

I guess the question now is not how good a film The Dark Knight was. Rather, more to the point how much better is it than anything else in its class?

I guess I am biased, but I considered it a work of art that transcended the traditionally stifling stigma of comic book fandom and transformed the genre as a whole.

Simply put it was phenomenal. It broke rules and set records. To paraphrase one of my new favorite screen villains, it lives in "a world without rules."

By the way, the film earned nearly 3 times its production budget. And my first novel was Batman.