The Metropolitan Opera: Live in High Definition
Years ago as a student in Rome, Italy on a whim I decided to go to the Opera; a challenge, being totally uneducated and underexposed; but every taxi driver in Italy sang arias, so why shouldn’t I give it a try; although hearing people would pay me to sing “over the hill and far away”. I went, and at nineteen my life was altered; the affect of my first opera, Giacomo Puccini’s (1858-1924) La Boheme, was profound, intoxicating, mesmerizing and overwhelming. There was no English text, just the most unequivocally beautiful music I had ever experienced; each sung note toyed with my heart and tear ducts: the tears would not cease and I exulted in surrendering all control; I had never felt so perfectly vulnerable, a tool, a vacuum, a receptacle for this musical miracle. I was ambushed emotionally and have been imprisoned in divine captivity for decades; an unknown void; filled to capacity. How could this happen? Love at first sound and a happiness so tangible, it galloped from my pores.
Who was this composer? A mere mortal who in the solitude and privacy of his gifted mind could fathom such magnificence; could hear and visualize this monumental creation that would capture audiences for eternity; my faith in a god, reinforced.
The Metropolitan Opera in New York City has given the twenty-first century its greatest and most culturally artistic innovation. Anyone can now go to the Opera in a movie theatre. You can view it live, all over the world or go to a taped encore performance at a later publicized date. Erased from the elitism attached to this art form, the intimidation,
expensive ticket prices. You can attend, attired as you like in a seat you prefer, eat popcorn and expose yourself to the extraordinary magical skills of composers past and present. You may exit without embarrassment, although the final act is usually the most traumatic and scintillating.
Through the years I have concluded that there are those with an inherited Opera gene; it is part of their DNA; others can cultivate and become scholars but never have the visceral, powerful, gut-wrenching sensation when the first chords are struck. In the movie “Pretty Woman” (1990) Edward (Richard Gere) takes Vivian (Julia Roberts, the paid professional) to a performance of Verdi’s La Travita; her reaction was one of amazing joy, understanding and empathy; she was hooked, acknowledging that enchantment had struck , bowed at her feet, and grasped with musical tentacles her emancipated spirit.
Tickets go on sale the beginning of September. If you are a neophyte commence with Puccini, Verdi, Bizet, Mozart, Rossini, Massenet; save Schoenberg, Shostakovich, Strauss, Tchaikovsky, Wagner for the second season. Regardless of age, take a bite and quite possibly an appetizing addiction will develop.
For Now………..Peneflix
I will be on hiatus for almost a month; but working on my quest to satisfy my craving for Bollywood films; a week in Mumbai should serve as an entrée to this dedicated mission.
Please do not hesitate to keep me informed of movies (good, bad or ugly) that I should view and review upon my return! Thank you!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
SALT
SALT
When I think of summers past it is not picnics, beaches or lemonade stands that come to mind; it is the theme parks with tilt-a-whirls, parachute plunges, but primarily the roller coaster with its palpating ascent and paralyzing descent that remains a frozen memory; sitting alone (my cowardly friends watching in horror) in the front seat, the world vanished, my heart and stomach switched places, leaving only the purest sensation of losing control, flirting with fate; my destiny determined by mechanics. That fearless person has vanished and now is a pillar of seasoned, if at times flawed, discretion. But as I watched “Salt” the titillating sensation of joy and recklessness played heavenly havoc with my mind and remembrance.
“Salt” is everything a summer movie should be: mindlessly entertaining, fascinating and constantly challenging your perceptions, breathtaking to watch and gorgeously filmed.
Every second was thrilling; with its conclusion came a touch of remorse.
Angelina Jolie is Evelyn Salt; she along with the Bollywood diva, Aishwarya Rai, rank as two of the most miraculously, divinely, bewitching women in the world; at times their beauty transcends their characterizations and can be disturbingly distracting. It is testimony to their talent that they sink their perfect incisors into the psyche of the roles they inhabit and leave not a quivering doubt in the viewer’s eye that what you see lacks all artifice and is real to the core.
Evelyn Salt is a force and employed by the CIA; her agility is aerobic, acrobatic, aerial and a lethal weapon; she is Clark Kent (Superman) in female form. Tom Cruise was considered for the role (Edward Salt?) but the movie works exceptionally well with a woman proficient in skills dominated by males; oh, the exhilaration as Evelyn takes flight.
The ultimate movie fantasy would be a pairing of Evelyn Salt and Lisbeth Salander (“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”); two heroines, combining attributes and with unmitigated strength liquidate the dark, nefarious, empire of evil; Rambo and The Terminator replaced by the feminine mystique, with brawn.
THREE & 1/2 STARS!!!
For Now…………Peneflix
When I think of summers past it is not picnics, beaches or lemonade stands that come to mind; it is the theme parks with tilt-a-whirls, parachute plunges, but primarily the roller coaster with its palpating ascent and paralyzing descent that remains a frozen memory; sitting alone (my cowardly friends watching in horror) in the front seat, the world vanished, my heart and stomach switched places, leaving only the purest sensation of losing control, flirting with fate; my destiny determined by mechanics. That fearless person has vanished and now is a pillar of seasoned, if at times flawed, discretion. But as I watched “Salt” the titillating sensation of joy and recklessness played heavenly havoc with my mind and remembrance.
“Salt” is everything a summer movie should be: mindlessly entertaining, fascinating and constantly challenging your perceptions, breathtaking to watch and gorgeously filmed.
Every second was thrilling; with its conclusion came a touch of remorse.
Angelina Jolie is Evelyn Salt; she along with the Bollywood diva, Aishwarya Rai, rank as two of the most miraculously, divinely, bewitching women in the world; at times their beauty transcends their characterizations and can be disturbingly distracting. It is testimony to their talent that they sink their perfect incisors into the psyche of the roles they inhabit and leave not a quivering doubt in the viewer’s eye that what you see lacks all artifice and is real to the core.
Evelyn Salt is a force and employed by the CIA; her agility is aerobic, acrobatic, aerial and a lethal weapon; she is Clark Kent (Superman) in female form. Tom Cruise was considered for the role (Edward Salt?) but the movie works exceptionally well with a woman proficient in skills dominated by males; oh, the exhilaration as Evelyn takes flight.
The ultimate movie fantasy would be a pairing of Evelyn Salt and Lisbeth Salander (“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”); two heroines, combining attributes and with unmitigated strength liquidate the dark, nefarious, empire of evil; Rambo and The Terminator replaced by the feminine mystique, with brawn.
THREE & 1/2 STARS!!!
For Now…………Peneflix
Friday, July 23, 2010
AGORA
AGORA (A Place of Assembly)
On a recent trip to Spain I succumbed to my craving, my ambrosial addiction, and went to a movie. How pleased was I that Alejandro Amenabar’s (“The Sea Inside”, a classic favorite ) “Agora” with the enchanting Rachel Weisz had just premiered in Madrid.
Sadly, the movie fell far short of my expectations. I admired the courage and fortitude of Amenabar and Weisz in tackling one of antiquities most inimitable women, Hypatia, the beautiful and brilliant mathematician and astronomer teaching in Alexandria, Egypt in 400 A.D.
Her father Theon, a famed mathematician, supported and encouraged her intellectual precociousness. She became head of the Neo-Platonist school of philosophy in Alexandria. Her eruditeness in the field of science was feared and considered pagan by the early Christians with their intransigent mentality; she refuses to convert and thus seals her destiny.
Lusting after the spectacle; the more plagues, chariot races, sea-partings, destructions of evil empires, the more satiated my cravings. Unfortunately, contemporary technology raises its technological head and destroys the illusion, digitalization screams in all scenes except the sacking of the Alexandria library; the citadel of knowledge dies a realistic and horrific death. Crucified by the ignorant.
Religious quests and conquests: pagans murdering Christians, Christians retaliating but adding Jews to the conflagration; grew tiresome, only Hypatia’s life was riveting. She taught the keenest male minds of the period, but shunned their advances; her energies focused on the celestial and its relationship to the earth.
History and mythology have not neglected but recognized the wisdom and vision of many iconic women. The artist Anselm Kiefer in his book “Women of Antiquity” ranks Hypatia, with Lilith, Pandora and Queen Zenobia, as a prime member of this sorority.
Praise for a valiant effort but “Agora” does not ignite or inspire one’s passions for Hypatia, a woman not just of antiquity but for all ages.
TWO 1/2 STARS!!
For Now…………….Peneflix
On a recent trip to Spain I succumbed to my craving, my ambrosial addiction, and went to a movie. How pleased was I that Alejandro Amenabar’s (“The Sea Inside”, a classic favorite ) “Agora” with the enchanting Rachel Weisz had just premiered in Madrid.
Sadly, the movie fell far short of my expectations. I admired the courage and fortitude of Amenabar and Weisz in tackling one of antiquities most inimitable women, Hypatia, the beautiful and brilliant mathematician and astronomer teaching in Alexandria, Egypt in 400 A.D.
Her father Theon, a famed mathematician, supported and encouraged her intellectual precociousness. She became head of the Neo-Platonist school of philosophy in Alexandria. Her eruditeness in the field of science was feared and considered pagan by the early Christians with their intransigent mentality; she refuses to convert and thus seals her destiny.
Lusting after the spectacle; the more plagues, chariot races, sea-partings, destructions of evil empires, the more satiated my cravings. Unfortunately, contemporary technology raises its technological head and destroys the illusion, digitalization screams in all scenes except the sacking of the Alexandria library; the citadel of knowledge dies a realistic and horrific death. Crucified by the ignorant.
Religious quests and conquests: pagans murdering Christians, Christians retaliating but adding Jews to the conflagration; grew tiresome, only Hypatia’s life was riveting. She taught the keenest male minds of the period, but shunned their advances; her energies focused on the celestial and its relationship to the earth.
History and mythology have not neglected but recognized the wisdom and vision of many iconic women. The artist Anselm Kiefer in his book “Women of Antiquity” ranks Hypatia, with Lilith, Pandora and Queen Zenobia, as a prime member of this sorority.
Praise for a valiant effort but “Agora” does not ignite or inspire one’s passions for Hypatia, a woman not just of antiquity but for all ages.
TWO 1/2 STARS!!
For Now…………….Peneflix
Sunday, July 18, 2010
THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE & INCEPTION
THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE
It is surprisingly good. As a major advocate of Stieg Larsson’s trilogy I counted the days before I saw “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”, my expectations were met and exceeded by the film. “The Girl Who Played with Fire” is the weakest of the trilogy, so I went with limited anticipations. What a delicious surprise; like looking at something unappetizing and with the first bite realizing you are swallowing a taste of heaven.
“The Girl Who Played with Fire” is better than the novel; it is pared down, the supercilious erased, the action mesmerizing, the actors flawless in their characterizations; even the villains exude enticing evil.
The glue, cement, the major component of the plot is the concrete performance of Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salander; feel Larsson had her image in mind when he created the character. Her strength of body and mind; her uncompromised principles; the intensity of her desires and the single-mindedness in which she executes her missions equal a heroine of unusual and undaunted proportions. A feared inexorable force.
Michael Nyqvist as the journalist Mikael Blomkvist (loosely based on the dead novelist, Larsson) garnishes accolades for his shy and sensitive demeanor, his agility, wisdom in climbing into the psyche of Lisbeth and uncovering her location; their relationship and its vicissitudes, the yin and yang add a tremendous seductive allure to the story.
Be prepared for two and one half hours of immense entertainment.
THREE &1/2 STARS!!!
INCEPTION
The gluttonous hype of Christopher Nolan’s (“Dark Knight”) had thousands line up at theatres around the country for the 12:01 AM showing on Friday, July 16th! This critic waited for the noon viewing, a sensible and pragmatic decision.
My normal agenda is to wait a few days before putting my thoughts into print; the films and my insights manifest a defined clarity after the marinating process. In this case I had a lightening bolt epiphany. “Inception” is a movie for the video game generation; Half Life lovers will be salivating through every convoluted, senseless, inane but disturbing beautiful scene. They will immediately “take a leap of faith” (oft repeated line in the movie) and not try (as obtuse thinkers did) to decipher the difference between actuality and the dream state. After thirty frustrating minutes I joined the crowd and enjoyed watching in triplicate the gorgeous actors; three of Leonardo DiCaprio, awake, asleep or dreaming he is a constant banquet for the eyes; Marion Cotillard (Academy Award Winner, La Vie en Rose. Edith Piaf’s song resonates throughout the film) ethereally enchanting and perpetually dreamlike; Cillian Murphy’s (“ Breakfast on Pluto ) beauty is mythical and worthy of a fourth dimension; small and talented Ellen Page (Juno) still in the embryonic stages; three of her was two too many; Joseph Gordon-Levitt (500 Days of Summer) is the most aerobic and floats rhythmically in three different spheres. A future “Dancing with the Stars” candidate.
“Inception” is a 160 million dollar ambitious idea gone awry; bifurcated by the digitalized world of contemporary technology.
FOUR STARS!!!! (15-35 YEAR OLD AUDIENCE)
TWO STARS!! (36 AND BEYOND)
For Now……………..Peneflix
It is surprisingly good. As a major advocate of Stieg Larsson’s trilogy I counted the days before I saw “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”, my expectations were met and exceeded by the film. “The Girl Who Played with Fire” is the weakest of the trilogy, so I went with limited anticipations. What a delicious surprise; like looking at something unappetizing and with the first bite realizing you are swallowing a taste of heaven.
“The Girl Who Played with Fire” is better than the novel; it is pared down, the supercilious erased, the action mesmerizing, the actors flawless in their characterizations; even the villains exude enticing evil.
The glue, cement, the major component of the plot is the concrete performance of Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salander; feel Larsson had her image in mind when he created the character. Her strength of body and mind; her uncompromised principles; the intensity of her desires and the single-mindedness in which she executes her missions equal a heroine of unusual and undaunted proportions. A feared inexorable force.
Michael Nyqvist as the journalist Mikael Blomkvist (loosely based on the dead novelist, Larsson) garnishes accolades for his shy and sensitive demeanor, his agility, wisdom in climbing into the psyche of Lisbeth and uncovering her location; their relationship and its vicissitudes, the yin and yang add a tremendous seductive allure to the story.
Be prepared for two and one half hours of immense entertainment.
THREE &1/2 STARS!!!
INCEPTION
The gluttonous hype of Christopher Nolan’s (“Dark Knight”) had thousands line up at theatres around the country for the 12:01 AM showing on Friday, July 16th! This critic waited for the noon viewing, a sensible and pragmatic decision.
My normal agenda is to wait a few days before putting my thoughts into print; the films and my insights manifest a defined clarity after the marinating process. In this case I had a lightening bolt epiphany. “Inception” is a movie for the video game generation; Half Life lovers will be salivating through every convoluted, senseless, inane but disturbing beautiful scene. They will immediately “take a leap of faith” (oft repeated line in the movie) and not try (as obtuse thinkers did) to decipher the difference between actuality and the dream state. After thirty frustrating minutes I joined the crowd and enjoyed watching in triplicate the gorgeous actors; three of Leonardo DiCaprio, awake, asleep or dreaming he is a constant banquet for the eyes; Marion Cotillard (Academy Award Winner, La Vie en Rose. Edith Piaf’s song resonates throughout the film) ethereally enchanting and perpetually dreamlike; Cillian Murphy’s (“ Breakfast on Pluto ) beauty is mythical and worthy of a fourth dimension; small and talented Ellen Page (Juno) still in the embryonic stages; three of her was two too many; Joseph Gordon-Levitt (500 Days of Summer) is the most aerobic and floats rhythmically in three different spheres. A future “Dancing with the Stars” candidate.
“Inception” is a 160 million dollar ambitious idea gone awry; bifurcated by the digitalized world of contemporary technology.
FOUR STARS!!!! (15-35 YEAR OLD AUDIENCE)
TWO STARS!! (36 AND BEYOND)
For Now……………..Peneflix
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT
THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT
Or “Scenes from a Contemporary Marriage”. It is timely, well-acted and I fall into the minority that found it tedious, boring, with minimal interest in any of the principals, the exception being the children. Mia Wasikowska as Joni, the soon to be college freshman captures the essence of a bright, sophisticated, mature young woman: credit has to go to the “Moms” for her development. Josh Hutcherson as Laser is more complex; the typical boy keeping his thoughts, desires and opinions primarily to himself. The successful scenes revolve around the “Moms” soliciting him to open up and share his feelings; he stoically and with a certain dismantling charm rejects their prodding. All who have raised children will relate to these frustrating, realistic moments.
Annette Bening, as Nic gives a fine and credible performance as the bread winner in the family; she is not likeable, she whines and whimpers and elicits little or no sympathy.
Julianne Moore plays Jules, the stay at home Mom who with her daughter leaving for college and her fifteen old son moving into the nebulous and inexorable teenage world, decides to tackle a new career as a landscape artist (in this scenario a euphemism for gardener). Moore, also accomplished and amazingly convincing in the role garnishes little empathy, especially with her choices. Maybe that was planned; like many who quest for professional validity that is rarely granted, grasping the ephemeral dying leaves that invade their path.
Mark Roffalo as Paul is exceptional and insatiably gobbles up the good fortune thrust upon him. He is the alchemist pivoting and transforming one family member to another, he is genuinely endearing and could cook for me any Sunday.
The children are fine; it is the parents that are teetering on the precipice of disillusionment.
TWO STARS!!
For Now……………Peneflix
Or “Scenes from a Contemporary Marriage”. It is timely, well-acted and I fall into the minority that found it tedious, boring, with minimal interest in any of the principals, the exception being the children. Mia Wasikowska as Joni, the soon to be college freshman captures the essence of a bright, sophisticated, mature young woman: credit has to go to the “Moms” for her development. Josh Hutcherson as Laser is more complex; the typical boy keeping his thoughts, desires and opinions primarily to himself. The successful scenes revolve around the “Moms” soliciting him to open up and share his feelings; he stoically and with a certain dismantling charm rejects their prodding. All who have raised children will relate to these frustrating, realistic moments.
Annette Bening, as Nic gives a fine and credible performance as the bread winner in the family; she is not likeable, she whines and whimpers and elicits little or no sympathy.
Julianne Moore plays Jules, the stay at home Mom who with her daughter leaving for college and her fifteen old son moving into the nebulous and inexorable teenage world, decides to tackle a new career as a landscape artist (in this scenario a euphemism for gardener). Moore, also accomplished and amazingly convincing in the role garnishes little empathy, especially with her choices. Maybe that was planned; like many who quest for professional validity that is rarely granted, grasping the ephemeral dying leaves that invade their path.
Mark Roffalo as Paul is exceptional and insatiably gobbles up the good fortune thrust upon him. He is the alchemist pivoting and transforming one family member to another, he is genuinely endearing and could cook for me any Sunday.
The children are fine; it is the parents that are teetering on the precipice of disillusionment.
TWO STARS!!
For Now……………Peneflix
Saturday, July 10, 2010
RESTREPO
RESTREPO
A year ago I saw, along with young physically challenged veterans, the staggeringly remarkable “The Hurt Locker” directed by Kathryn Bigelow. It concentrated on the war in Iraq but its brilliance rested it its lack of politics; no whys, if onlys, or Bush bashing; just focusing on getting the job done. I knew it was one the finest films about war that I had ever seen and the Academy validated my insights by honoring it with the Academy Award for Best Picture, 2009.
“Restrepo” a documentary, portrays the war in Afghanistan. Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington have created a riveting but at times flawed masterpiece. Over a two year period they lived, filmed, almost perished with Battle Company of the 173rd Airborne Brigade at the Restrepo outpost (named after Juan “Doc” Restrepo, a fun loving medic we see in the commencement of the documentary; his death haunts every member of the Brigrade) in the lethal, Taliban- infested Korengal Valley. The interviewed soldiers at times stoically, but often with debilitating emotion that gashes your heart; tell their solicited and unsolicited thoughts about their families, friends, war. They are gentle men, farmers, city boys in the prime of youth; not even knowing what they “want to be when they grow up”. They live every gun- riddled moment, knowing the future is illusive, an apparition they might never possess. Their tattooed bodies a tableau, that speak vibrant, soundless volumes of their idols, passions and fears.
Afghanistan’s image is one of evil, destruction and hell. But its beauty is rarely addressed. Kahled Hosseini”s “A Thousand Splendid Suns” quotes a seventeenth century Afgan poet, Saib-e-Tabrizi:
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
Whether their intention or not Junger and Hetherington give credibility to these lines of sublime poetry, while depicting the nightmarish, mundane, droning, unpredictable lives of the men at Restrepo.
FOUR STARS!!!!
For Now……………..Peneflix
A year ago I saw, along with young physically challenged veterans, the staggeringly remarkable “The Hurt Locker” directed by Kathryn Bigelow. It concentrated on the war in Iraq but its brilliance rested it its lack of politics; no whys, if onlys, or Bush bashing; just focusing on getting the job done. I knew it was one the finest films about war that I had ever seen and the Academy validated my insights by honoring it with the Academy Award for Best Picture, 2009.
“Restrepo” a documentary, portrays the war in Afghanistan. Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington have created a riveting but at times flawed masterpiece. Over a two year period they lived, filmed, almost perished with Battle Company of the 173rd Airborne Brigade at the Restrepo outpost (named after Juan “Doc” Restrepo, a fun loving medic we see in the commencement of the documentary; his death haunts every member of the Brigrade) in the lethal, Taliban- infested Korengal Valley. The interviewed soldiers at times stoically, but often with debilitating emotion that gashes your heart; tell their solicited and unsolicited thoughts about their families, friends, war. They are gentle men, farmers, city boys in the prime of youth; not even knowing what they “want to be when they grow up”. They live every gun- riddled moment, knowing the future is illusive, an apparition they might never possess. Their tattooed bodies a tableau, that speak vibrant, soundless volumes of their idols, passions and fears.
Afghanistan’s image is one of evil, destruction and hell. But its beauty is rarely addressed. Kahled Hosseini”s “A Thousand Splendid Suns” quotes a seventeenth century Afgan poet, Saib-e-Tabrizi:
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
Whether their intention or not Junger and Hetherington give credibility to these lines of sublime poetry, while depicting the nightmarish, mundane, droning, unpredictable lives of the men at Restrepo.
FOUR STARS!!!!
For Now……………..Peneflix
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
CYRUS
CYRUS
On a recent trip to Minneapolis John C. Reilly sat in the seat behind me: immediately recognizing him I was ginger about approaching him: many known personalities are protective of their privacy and this I respect. As I went to deplane I mentioned how much I was looking forward to seeing “Cyrus”; he was instantly gracious, asked which carry on was mine; he was so tall, he was eye to eye with my wheelie. We chatted, parted and I was left knowing that he was a genuinely nice person. I went to see “Cyrus” with a bias, I wanted to like it because of him. Any concern dissipated in seconds; the movie is thoroughly entertaining, thought provoking and at times “warm and fuzzy”!
The story revolves around John (John C. Reilly) a lost soul still in love with his ex-wife Jamie (Catherine Keener), not looking for love in any of the right places. Jamie persuades him to attend a party with her and her fiancé. After a couple of false starts he meets and connects with Molly (Marisa Tomei, the cire perdue, the lost wax mold; only she can sculpt this character); midway into a flirtatious conversation he hears the commencement of a song “Don’t You Want Me” (Human League) he takes flight, with beer in hand, sings and dances (neither too well) foolishly, until Molly and others join in the gaiety. This scene cements our rooting for and championing this man. Anyone who adores music and dance can relate to hearing the first strains of a song and no matter how intense the conversation: Einstein’s theory of relativity, quality of the Hubble telescope images, latest fall fashions; the intellect freezes and the body is empowered with the magic of movement. “Mack the Knife”, “YMCA”, all of Abba electrify my dancing gene.
Molly and John have instant chemistry; rather miraculous after a seven year romantic draught for John. Here is a prime example of “if it’s too good to be true”….. Enter the corpulent, creepily cunning Cyrus (a mesmerizing performance by Jonah Hill). He is a precocious new age composer, (the music surprisingly sophisticated and moving) a sultry man-child of twenty-one with an unnatural attachment to his mother, Molly. They live in an insular world, a bubble, containing two first class seats. John, the interloper wants initially coach but rapidly yearns for business status.
The essence and power of this ménage a trois; the sparring, one-upmanship, intriguing dialogue; a war of words denigrating into a battle of blows; herein lies the success of “Cyrus”. The Duplass brothers (Jay and Mark) display an uncanny ability to capture the emotions, complexities, defeats and triumphs of the major characters. Like a funambulist they walk a tightrope balancing the salacious and sensational with the salubrious and intelligent. This balance is integral to the integrity of the film.
John C. Reilly has made countless films but “Cyrus” elevates his gift of depicting the vulnerabilities and strengths of the common man to extraordinary heights and box office delights!
THREE&1/2 STARS!!!
For Now………….Peneflix
On a recent trip to Minneapolis John C. Reilly sat in the seat behind me: immediately recognizing him I was ginger about approaching him: many known personalities are protective of their privacy and this I respect. As I went to deplane I mentioned how much I was looking forward to seeing “Cyrus”; he was instantly gracious, asked which carry on was mine; he was so tall, he was eye to eye with my wheelie. We chatted, parted and I was left knowing that he was a genuinely nice person. I went to see “Cyrus” with a bias, I wanted to like it because of him. Any concern dissipated in seconds; the movie is thoroughly entertaining, thought provoking and at times “warm and fuzzy”!
The story revolves around John (John C. Reilly) a lost soul still in love with his ex-wife Jamie (Catherine Keener), not looking for love in any of the right places. Jamie persuades him to attend a party with her and her fiancé. After a couple of false starts he meets and connects with Molly (Marisa Tomei, the cire perdue, the lost wax mold; only she can sculpt this character); midway into a flirtatious conversation he hears the commencement of a song “Don’t You Want Me” (Human League) he takes flight, with beer in hand, sings and dances (neither too well) foolishly, until Molly and others join in the gaiety. This scene cements our rooting for and championing this man. Anyone who adores music and dance can relate to hearing the first strains of a song and no matter how intense the conversation: Einstein’s theory of relativity, quality of the Hubble telescope images, latest fall fashions; the intellect freezes and the body is empowered with the magic of movement. “Mack the Knife”, “YMCA”, all of Abba electrify my dancing gene.
Molly and John have instant chemistry; rather miraculous after a seven year romantic draught for John. Here is a prime example of “if it’s too good to be true”….. Enter the corpulent, creepily cunning Cyrus (a mesmerizing performance by Jonah Hill). He is a precocious new age composer, (the music surprisingly sophisticated and moving) a sultry man-child of twenty-one with an unnatural attachment to his mother, Molly. They live in an insular world, a bubble, containing two first class seats. John, the interloper wants initially coach but rapidly yearns for business status.
The essence and power of this ménage a trois; the sparring, one-upmanship, intriguing dialogue; a war of words denigrating into a battle of blows; herein lies the success of “Cyrus”. The Duplass brothers (Jay and Mark) display an uncanny ability to capture the emotions, complexities, defeats and triumphs of the major characters. Like a funambulist they walk a tightrope balancing the salacious and sensational with the salubrious and intelligent. This balance is integral to the integrity of the film.
John C. Reilly has made countless films but “Cyrus” elevates his gift of depicting the vulnerabilities and strengths of the common man to extraordinary heights and box office delights!
THREE&1/2 STARS!!!
For Now………….Peneflix
Friday, July 2, 2010
COCO (CHANEL) AND IGOR (STRAVINSKY)
COCO (CHANEL) AND IGOR (STRAVINSKY)
We have all heard the expression “watching paint dry”; the implication derogatory, but what I would have sacrificed to watch a Delacroix, Courbet, Renoir, Picasso, Kline, Richter, Johns, Curran whose layers and layers of paint, encaustic, varnish took days and sometimes years to loose their liquidity, solidify and dry. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy!
So on a recent trip to Los Angeles I was taken by my most fascinating friend to view “Coco and Igor” and from the onset we felt gifted, privy, in awe of the intense beauty Jan Kounen, the director, painted for us; one of the most powerful partnerships between film and painting ever viewed, and the miracle of the experience is that we the viewer became the hand and eye of the artist envisioning and finalizing the creation.
Not being a fashion aficionado but having a few friends who have accomplished and consummated the ideal relationship between couture and individuality (L.E. G. S. P. B.C.J. First initials to protect the identity, of these pivotal archetypes).
I have tired of all the Coco hype over the last few years. But this film is great: Anna Mouglalis is magnificent as Coco Chanel; she captures the drive, ambition and courage it took to crusade and challenge a male- dominated world in the early twentieth century. Jan Kounen was dauntless in casting her in the role. She was the muse and model for Karl Lagerfeld (appointed head designer for Chanel in 1982). His choice was prophetic. No one could have worn with such grace and agility, the vintage, archival Chanel wardrobe, as grounded as her personality, she is angelic, pristine poetry in motion.
Mads Mikkelsen as Igor Stravinsky is good as the tormented innovative composer whose
scores for Firebird (1910) and Petrushka (1911) ignited his initial flirtation with fame and recognition.
The film revolves around a brief and passionate interlude in the lives of these two avant- garde individuals. Commencing in 1913 with the debut in Paris of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring) choreographed by Nijinsky, performed by the Ballet Russe. This scene is worth the price of admission and should be seen by all Stravinsky lovers; it is the perfect depiction of what occurred, the audience’s descent into disrespectful audacity, the tenacity of the dancers under horrific abuse; but Stravinsky in this one composition envisions the devastation, the nightmare soon to be visited upon the world, the Great War. Coco Chanel was a witness and inspired by The Rite of Spring, she never left her seat.
In 1920 at a dinner hosted by the impresario Sergei Diaghilev the two icons meet and Stravinsky, a victim of the Russian Revolution, impoverished, living with his consumptive wife and four children in confined quarters, reluctantly accepts Coco’s invitation to move with his family into her villa, Bel Respino, Garches, situated outside Paris.
It is here that the major composition: symphonic, structured, painterly explodes with the evolution of each frame. It is symmetrically gorgeous and unmatched; each scene worthy of a Cindy Sherman film still. Jan Kounen envisions Piet Mondrian, at the conclusion of his march to abstraction, sculptural perfection of David Smith, engineering supremacy of Alexander Calder. The intimate scenes are refulgent in their staged and formal beauty. There is not a messy moment in this movie.
A stunning but brief hiatus in the lives of two fearless, iconic individuals who dared and succeeded in breaking the confines, rigidity; choking, smothering the early twentieth century.
FOUR STARS!!!!
For Now…………….Peneflix
We have all heard the expression “watching paint dry”; the implication derogatory, but what I would have sacrificed to watch a Delacroix, Courbet, Renoir, Picasso, Kline, Richter, Johns, Curran whose layers and layers of paint, encaustic, varnish took days and sometimes years to loose their liquidity, solidify and dry. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy!
So on a recent trip to Los Angeles I was taken by my most fascinating friend to view “Coco and Igor” and from the onset we felt gifted, privy, in awe of the intense beauty Jan Kounen, the director, painted for us; one of the most powerful partnerships between film and painting ever viewed, and the miracle of the experience is that we the viewer became the hand and eye of the artist envisioning and finalizing the creation.
Not being a fashion aficionado but having a few friends who have accomplished and consummated the ideal relationship between couture and individuality (L.E. G. S. P. B.C.J. First initials to protect the identity, of these pivotal archetypes).
I have tired of all the Coco hype over the last few years. But this film is great: Anna Mouglalis is magnificent as Coco Chanel; she captures the drive, ambition and courage it took to crusade and challenge a male- dominated world in the early twentieth century. Jan Kounen was dauntless in casting her in the role. She was the muse and model for Karl Lagerfeld (appointed head designer for Chanel in 1982). His choice was prophetic. No one could have worn with such grace and agility, the vintage, archival Chanel wardrobe, as grounded as her personality, she is angelic, pristine poetry in motion.
Mads Mikkelsen as Igor Stravinsky is good as the tormented innovative composer whose
scores for Firebird (1910) and Petrushka (1911) ignited his initial flirtation with fame and recognition.
The film revolves around a brief and passionate interlude in the lives of these two avant- garde individuals. Commencing in 1913 with the debut in Paris of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring) choreographed by Nijinsky, performed by the Ballet Russe. This scene is worth the price of admission and should be seen by all Stravinsky lovers; it is the perfect depiction of what occurred, the audience’s descent into disrespectful audacity, the tenacity of the dancers under horrific abuse; but Stravinsky in this one composition envisions the devastation, the nightmare soon to be visited upon the world, the Great War. Coco Chanel was a witness and inspired by The Rite of Spring, she never left her seat.
In 1920 at a dinner hosted by the impresario Sergei Diaghilev the two icons meet and Stravinsky, a victim of the Russian Revolution, impoverished, living with his consumptive wife and four children in confined quarters, reluctantly accepts Coco’s invitation to move with his family into her villa, Bel Respino, Garches, situated outside Paris.
It is here that the major composition: symphonic, structured, painterly explodes with the evolution of each frame. It is symmetrically gorgeous and unmatched; each scene worthy of a Cindy Sherman film still. Jan Kounen envisions Piet Mondrian, at the conclusion of his march to abstraction, sculptural perfection of David Smith, engineering supremacy of Alexander Calder. The intimate scenes are refulgent in their staged and formal beauty. There is not a messy moment in this movie.
A stunning but brief hiatus in the lives of two fearless, iconic individuals who dared and succeeded in breaking the confines, rigidity; choking, smothering the early twentieth century.
FOUR STARS!!!!
For Now…………….Peneflix
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