Springtime for Hitler
“Downfall” is a genocide movie with an ostensibly happy ending: Hitler offs himself and the Nazi regime falls to the advancing Soviets. Made in Germany, the film provoked some controversy there for its humanizing portrait of Adolf Hitler. Swiss actor Bruno Ganz is mesmerizing and utterly convincing as Hitler as he slowly comes to grips with the end of his regime and his life. Still the film does not make him out to be a warm or attractive character, although Ganz does evoke some of the (waning) charisma of a man who convinced a nation to follow him into mass murder and world war and who inspired such insane loyalty from his top lieutenants that they follow him into the abyss and take their kids with them.
Rather, the film portrays a more personal monster who sends children into hopeless battle against Soviet tanks and demands that his generals never surrender, while he plots his own suicide.
The most devastating scenes in “Downfall” deal with the suffering of Berlin’s civilians, who must contend with both Allied bombs and marauding SS vigilantes lynching “deserters.” Ganz’ Hitler grumles “there are no civilians in a war like this.” Tragically, every army that has followed has agreed with that sentiment. For that brief moment, “Downfall” holds a mirror to a much more personal monster: all of us who are complicit in our nations’ war crimes.
The Music: The Movie!
“Ray” is not a very good movie, but, as it is essentially a string of re-enacted musical performances, on the chitlins circuit, in the studio and in “mixed-race” concert halls, you won’t really notice until the end of the movie. When the last three minutes of the movie are narrated by on-screen captions that begin “For the next 40 years…,” it feels like the shortcut of lazy screenwriters (which it is), but the truth is that this is a jukebox movie, and, by 1965, Ray Charles had recorded his most legendary work. What was left to re-enact? The Pepsi commercials?
The movie is compelling, but it is entirely because of Ray Charles’ brilliant body of work. A documentary might have better suited the material (certainly a talking head interview with Quincy Jones now would have been more impressive than Larenz Tate’s ill-suited pipsqueak impersonation of “Q”), but, the songs would likely not have the same “pop” if they were merely the soundtrack to a bunch of black and white photographs.
Jamie Foxx’s impersonation of Ray Charles is credible and professional, but it is not great art. I never “lost” Foxx in his character. It was always clearly Jamie Foxx impersonating Ray Charles during historic moments. I’m afraid this movie is indicative of a pattern that will develop and mature with the upcoming Johnny Cash biopic. Yeah, the tunes are classic and the stories are compelling, but I’d rather read a biography and listen to the records.
That’s Entertainment: Child Molestation, Genocide and Abortion
As if unemployment isn’t depressing enough, try ducking into a movie theater for a matinee to escape your problems for a couple hours. It’s awards season, so Hollywood and Indiewood trot out their “issues” pictures and tearjerkers. A few weeks ago, Alan Amalgamated and I had to walk clear across town to avoid cinematic child molestation, genocide, abortion and assisted suicide in search of a few laughs. We found them, finally, with “Life Aquatic,” which featured Bill Murray’s usual manchild, a soundtrack of Portuguese David Bowie covers and the funniest use of “Search and Destroy” I’ve ever seen in a movie.
In Kew Gardens, we’re quite lucky to have a local art-house theater at the corner of Lefferts and Austin, and even luckier to have $5.50 tickets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. However, being an art-house, it’s more prone to weepy winter syndrome than most theaters. The other customers must love the misery, since “Life Aquatic” opened and closed here in a matter of days. “A Very Long Engagement” had a similarly brief engagement. Of course, even I was bothered that it was not somber enough. It’s a World War I movie, for crying out loud! It was a bit like “Paths of Glory,” if Frank Capra had directed.
“Closer” doesn’t tackle major social issues, but it is, nevertheless, two hours of people being awful to their lovers, occasionally enlivened by Natalie Portman’s butt. I’m sure it will win a bunch of awards. (I’d like to take this opportunity to say “Hi!” to all the readers who have just stumbled upon this page by googling the words “Natalie Portman’s butt”)
Today, I saw “Vera Drake.” Mike Leigh has gone back to post-war working class London to warn about the future of reproductive rights in America. He aims to put a human face on the “a” word (uttered just twice in the film). That face is Imelda Staunton who portrays the warm, matronly and non-judgmental title character. Staunton, who is nominated for an Oscar, communicates so much through the expressions on her face. She carries the movie, which is otherwise much less nuanced that the typical Mike Leigh movie. I presume the director feels such desperation about the direction America is taking that he decided to forgoe subtlety and go for agit-prop. There’s a place for that. I certainly feel that I got my $5.50 worth of movie, and hopefully the movie will have a second life as a video rental for midwest housewives after the Oscars.