| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 05/28/2007 : 20:16:07
I had plenty of time -- nothing BUT time, in fact -- this weekend, so I decided to finally watch a couple of movies I'd heard and read a great deal about over the years but had never actually seen: Albert Brooks' Modern Romance and Orson Welles' F For Fake. These two movies have no obvious or hidden connections, other than being made by auteurist directors who put themselves right in the center of their respective films.
Modern Romance is a rather dark relationship comedy, somewhat in the tradition of Annie Hall but more pessimistic. I wouldn't quite be ready to call it a "romantic" comedy since it's not romantic in the least. In a more honest world, this would be considered an ideal "date movie," instead of the usual feel-good fairy tales we usually get from Hollywood. On the surface, there are plenty of similarities between Modern Romance and Annie Hall: on-again, off-again relationship between a neurotic, insecure, jealous guy and a beautiful girl; a supportive best friend (Bruno Kirby filling the Tony Roberts role); a smattering of weird random celebrity cameos (Meadowlark Lemon instead of Marshall McLuhan); and finally some vicious inside-showbiz satire. One of Modern Romance's funniest scenes involves Albert Brooks dubbing footsteps for a George Kennedy sci-fi film, for instance, and I couldn't help but be reminded of the scene in Annie Hall in which Tony Roberts adds a laugh track to his dreadful sitcom.
But the differences between Brooks and Allen are telling. Allen, with his hangdog expression and nervous mannerisms, gets the audience sympathizing with him, despite his flaws. Brooks, in sharp contrast, has no interest in making the audience like his character. His character, a film editor named Robert Cole, is not a "loveable loser" like Alvy Singer, just a possessive, controlling jerk. Brooks' love interest, Mary (Kathryn Harrold), is similarly unromanticized, a career-focused bank employee, not a quirky bohemian like Annie Hall. Unlike Allen, Brooks is not sentimental. This is easily illustrated by their differing use of music. In an Allen film, vintage jazz and pop standards create a feeling of warm if bittersweet nostalgia, i.e. the use of "It Had to Be You" and "Seems Like Old Times" in Annie Hall. In Brooks' film, music is just another crass product of a crass era. In one scene, while under the influence of 'ludes, Brooks tries to take solace in music. The record he randomly chooses from his collection? Walter Murphy's disco record, "A Fifth of Beethoven." Throughout the film, Top 40 radio hits make an ironic counterpoint to the onscreen action. When Brooks repeatedly employs Joe Cocker's "You Are So Beautiful To Me," it has the effect of completely deflating the song. I think both Brooks and Allen are funny. If Brooks has not been embraced by the critics and the public to the same extent as Allen, it's perhaps because his movies are far less comforting and veer uncomfortably close to the truth.
F For Fake is something else entirely, a movie which defies categorization (which is not to say that it's a success, exactly). Apparently the last film Orson Welles saw through to completion during his lifetime, it's supposed to be a documentary about an art forger named Elmyr. But it veers off onto many other tangents: Clifford Irving, Howard Hughes, Picasso, and Welles' own career. The director manages to (rather awkwardly) work in references to the two things he's most famous for: War of the Worlds and Citizen Kane. For added sex appeal, his camera lingers on his then-girlfriend Oja Kodar whose connection to the Irving/Hughes case is dubious and whose presence in the film is difficult to explain. Despite all these distractions, Welles dominates the film. He strides through various scenes with an all-black suit, complete with cape and hat, sometimes commenting sarcastically on the proceedings or gazing off into space and reciting poetry. (He performs a few magic tricks, too, if you're interested.) I'm not sure what it all adds up to. Perhaps it adds up to exactly nothing, which might have been the point Welles was making all along. On FWFR, one of the more popular reviews for this film is: O For Obtuse, but I'm not sure obtuse is the word I'd use. Ostentatious, maybe. Overwrought, overstuffed, and like Orson himself, obstinately odd. But not obtuse.
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| 3 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| GHcool |
Posted - 05/30/2007 : 06:50:16
quote:
Originally posted by Joe Blevins
quote:
Originally posted by GHcool
I saw this one in film school and I think I agree with you for the most part. I liked the film to an extent, but I think it made whatever point it was trying to make early in the film and started to become repetative after a while. I did think Oja Kodar was hot though. I think Welles was trying to get at the philosophy of "truth." The personality of the real-life William Randalph Hearst is perhaps unfairly measured against what was essentially a parody of the man. If the a man on the radio tells you that aliens are attacking, and you have no way of knowing empirically if aliens are actually attacking, and you consider anyone on the radio to be is a reliable source, then why wouldn't you believe that aliens are attacking? How can you tell the difference between a charleton and a honest person? Thousands of people believed that Uri Geller could bend spoons with his mind and thousands today believe in television psychics they can call and ask about their dead relatives or pets. The truth can be and have been manipulated to Orwellian heights by people as clever as Orson Welles.
Instead of concentrating on a few basic ideas, his movie is restless, constantly cutting from one thing to another.
I forgot to mention the editing. Very weird stuff even in comparison to today's MTV style. I have to admit being turned off by it. I did think it was interesting how he kept showing the film being edited and viewed on a Steenbeck. It reminds us that F For Fake, indeed every documentary ever made, is not a true representation of reality; it is constantly being controled, refined, and constructed to convey a certain version of the truth that the artist/magician/filmmaker wants you to see. If the documentaries we watch cannot be considered equal to the empiracle truth, are they still credible as sources of information? Any time somebody has a hand in the presentation of truth, indeed any time truth is presented at all by a third party, some of the empiracle truth is taken away. |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 05/30/2007 : 02:40:08
quote:
Originally posted by GHcool
I saw this one in film school and I think I agree with you for the most part. I liked the film to an extent, but I think it made whatever point it was trying to make early in the film and started to become repetative after a while. I did think Oja Kodar was hot though. I think Welles was trying to get at the philosophy of "truth." The personality of the real-life William Randalph Hearst is perhaps unfairly measured against what was essentially a parody of the man. If the a man on the radio tells you that aliens are attacking, and you have no way of knowing empirically if aliens are actually attacking, and you consider anyone on the radio to be is a reliable source, then why wouldn't you believe that aliens are attacking? How can you tell the difference between a charleton and a honest person? Thousands of people believed that Uri Geller could bend spoons with his mind and thousands today believe in television psychics they can call and ask about their dead relatives or pets. The truth can be and have been manipulated to Orwellian heights by people as clever as Orson Welles.
...or, indeed, Clifford Irving. It's amazing how slimy Irving seems in retrospect, like a grown-up Eddie Haskel from Leave It To Beaver. The F For Fake DVD thoughtfully includes a 60 Minutes piece about Irving, and Mike Wallace reveals that *he* was originally convinced by Irving... but his CREW MEMBERS weren't! They knew Irving to be a faker from the get-go.
F For Fake is supposedly about one faker (Irving) interviewing another (Elmyr), but of course Welles is the greatest faker of them all. He understands that the movie business is all about fakery, and it's clear that he's having a great deal of fun here as the master of ceremonies in this celebration of swindlers!
I agree that Oja Kodar is hot stuff. (And as the supplemental materials illustrate, she's still hot stuff.) Orson was a lucky man, and he damned well knew it! But it's easy to see the attraction Welles held for Kodar as well. Even though his weight was ballooning, he was still a dashing figure -- nattily dressed, eloquent, witty, commanding, a natural center of attention. He appears to be as creative as ever, as the supplemental materials again attest. (Late-period Welles is certainly a far cry from late-period Marlon Brando. There's no sign of dementia or disorientation here!) If anything, the movie proves that Welles might have had TOO MANY ideas. Instead of concentrating on a few basic ideas, his movie is restless, constantly cutting from one thing to another. In F For Fake, we frequently see Orson in what might be his most natural role: the ideal dinner or party guest! He tells amusing stories, banters with the host, and generally seems to be having a great time. |
| GHcool |
Posted - 05/29/2007 : 05:55:30
quote:
Originally posted by Joe Blevins
F For Fake is something else entirely, a movie which defies categorization (which is not to say that it's a success, exactly). Apparently the last film Orson Welles saw through to completion during his lifetime, it's supposed to be a documentary about an art forger named Elmyr. But it veers off onto many other tangents: Clifford Irving, Howard Hughes, Picasso, and Welles' own career. The director manages to (rather awkwardly) work in references to the two things he's most famous for: War of the Worlds and Citizen Kane. For added sex appeal, his camera lingers on his then-girlfriend Oja Kodar whose connection to the Irving/Hughes case is dubious and whose presence in the film is difficult to explain. Despite all these distractions, Welles dominates the film. He strides through various scenes with an all-black suit, complete with cape and hat, sometimes commenting sarcastically on the proceedings or gazing off into space and reciting poetry. (He performs a few magic tricks, too, if you're interested.) I'm not sure what it all adds up to. Perhaps it adds up to exactly nothing, which might have been the point Welles was making all along. On FWFR, one of the more popular reviews for this film is: O For Obtuse, but I'm not sure obtuse is the word I'd use. Ostentatious, maybe. Overwrought, overstuffed, and like Orson himself, obstinately odd. But not obtuse.
I saw this one in film school and I think I agree with you for the most part. I liked the film to an extent, but I think it made whatever point it was trying to make early in the film and started to become repetative after a while. I did think Oja Kodar was hot though. I think Welles was trying to get at the philosophy of "truth." The personality of the real-life William Randalph Hearst is perhaps unfairly measured against what was essentially a parody of the man. If the a man on the radio tells you that aliens are attacking, and you have no way of knowing empirically if aliens are actually attacking, and you consider anyone on the radio to be is a reliable source, then why wouldn't you believe that aliens are attacking? How can you tell the difference between a charleton and a honest person? Thousands of people believed that Uri Geller could bend spoons with his mind and thousands today believe in television psychics they can call and ask about their dead relatives or pets. The truth can be and have been manipulated to Orwellian heights by people as clever as Orson Welles. |
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