Reflections In A Golden Eye (1967)

Melodramatic and hokey, this mildly interesting soap opera involves the denizens of an army base, particularly a closeted homosexual Major, his philandering wife, her Lt. Col. lover, his repressed wife, and a broody, quiet private. Aside from the fact that no one actually, outright exposes the Major as a homosexual, there is very little subtlety on display here; the acting is typically loud and over-the-top, the scenarios are implausible and thoroughly preventable, and the whole film is glazed (by director John Huston's orders) with a golden-hued filter, lest you question for a second the nature of the film's title. The relationships are hokey and contrived, completely devoid of chemistry; most of the only genuine interactions occur between the Lt. Col.'s beleaguered wife and her manservant, Anacleto. For a John Huston movie, the scale is remarkably contained and, most disappointingly, cliched, with the occasional visual flourish (such as the closeups on *gasp* reflecting eyes!) coming off as extraneous and showy.

The cast is, simultaneously, a pro and a con for the film. On one hand, you have wonderful actors such as Elizabeth Taylor and Brian Keith floundering about in search of a character, throwing themselves at their overly revealing, thoroughly stagey dialogue at the expense of their integrity as actors. On the other hand, there is Robert Forster, killing it with his stoicism in his first major role as the creepy, stalkerish army recruit, Julie Harris, cutting a marvelously sympathetic and identifiable figure, and Marlon Brando, who, given the juiciest role in the show, manages to elevate the whole endeavor from more than a mere curiosity to a mildly interesting piece of work. Sidney Lumet, in his book Making Movies, mentions that in his prime, Brando would, on the first day of shooting, give the director two near-identical takes for a scene, one with his full, undivided attention, and the other, more of a throwaway mime of the scene. If the director could call out which take was the genuine article and which was the lemon, Brando would be devoted to the production, and hang on every word from the director. He did this for Lumet, and, given his work here, I am venturing that he did this for Huston. His character never, for a second, comes off as a screenwriter's invention. and without condescension allows the audience to FEEL, if not understand, the inner workings of this complicated, conflicted figure. It is Brando's work, rather than the screenwriter's, or any of the individual crewmembers, that creates a sense of tension and scope in the film, merely through his exhibition of his character's throughline. When the sensationalist ending finally comes, and he is at the mercy of the hokey script, the strength of his performance survives through it, and, unlike Taylor, he comes out the other end unfettered. It is one of the better, more encapsulating performances I have seen from Brando, up to par with anything he did in the '60s, and it is the only thing keeping this turgid, overcooked melodrama afloat.

Slightly Recommended for fans of soap opera-y marital dramas or Brando aficionados, who, gratefully, get one of the performances that he actually, truly, seemed to have given a hoot about perfecting.

Fat Man and Little Boy (1989)

Boring, pointless docudrama about the Manhattan Project, where the U.S. raced the Nazis to build the atom bomb, focusing on General Leslie Groves and Robert Oppenheimer. Paul Newman is Groves, Dutch Shultz from the A-Team is Oppenheimer, and John Cusack, Laura Dern, Bonnie Bedelia, and John C. McGinley are also on hand. The film is well-produced; it is well-staged (save for the actual climactic atom bomb blast) and the cast valiantly tries to inject some life into the proceedings, but only Cusack leaves an impression. The '80s mentality of not giving the audience ANY credit whatsoever is definitely at fault here, for the philosphical and scientific questions on hand (such as SHOULD THIS BOMB EVEN EXIST TO BEGIN WITH) are glazed over like a half-assed Krispy Kreme, and the focus is on domestic horseshit like Cusack trying to get with a nurse and Oppenheimer having an affair with a Commie. Cusack serves as a sort of protagonist for the film, and actually does manage to evoke sympathy for his young, overwhelmed ingenue, but the fact that his character was specifically created for the film decreases much of his arc's overall impact. Despite the talents of Bruce Robinson and Roland Joffe (who also directed) on screenplay duties, the plot is clunky and doesn't go anywhere, the characters are thin and poorly presented, and the emotion is, simply, not there. If you cut out Cusack, this movie's less moving than the goddam Wikipedia entry of the Manhattan Project.

Skip it. I assumed that, given the subject matter, this film would have no choice but to be at least somewhat provocative, intellectual, or moving. Whoops.

Spartacus (1960)

Terrific swords-and-sandals epic by Stanely Kubrick about a slave, played by Kirk Douglas, who stands up to the Roman Empire, headed by Sir Laurence Olivier. The central theme of overcoming human adversity and achieving self-worth in the face of enslavement is effective, but tacky; the 3 1/2 hour film would be crushed under the weight of its own self-righteousness, were it not for the deft, professional craft of Kubrick a true master of his craft. Through his camera, we do not view the action from the most obvious or traditional of methods, but instead are treated with odd angles, huge, mind-blowing use of the 70mm camera, and shockingly subversive and nuanced acting. The film earns its "epic" title without exploiting the money and production values involved, but rather by heightening tension and conflict to the largest levels possible. The attempts of Spartacus to lead his escaped slaves out of Rome are paralleled by Olivier's effort to gain a dictatorship over the Empire; they are both self-righteous and justified, but Spartacus's ideals are more practical and realistic than Olivier's bourgeois plans to take power over Rome. The decision to cast Olivier, rather than some hammy villain, does much to complicate matters, for his internal logic and reason seems to be thoroughly evident and fully fleshed out, making his scenes just as interesting and dramatic as Spartacus' expansive rebellion. His clearly erotic relationship with his slave, played by Tony Curtis (with his NY accent intact), wholly evoked through glances and line deliveries from Olivier, makes his hatred of Spartacus very real and human when Curtis runs away to join Spartacus' army. Douglas' performance is strong and stoic, even for him, but nothing revolutionary (no pun intended); while he, as exec producer, ran the show and this is, ostensibly, his, rather than Kubrick's, production, I still prefer his more risky, morally ambiguous turns, such as Billy Wilder's Ace in the Whole, to his impermeable nice guy image. The supporting cast is aces, with Curtis, Jean Simmons, Charles Laughton, Herbert Lom, and, especially, Peter Ustinov making distinct impressions, despite their stock roles. Every performer seems to have subtext in their work, and this is, no doubt, due to Kubrick's input. The corniness level is, thankfully, at a minimum throughout, even during the melodramatic ending that justifies itself through emotion, rather than action. The script by blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo is filled with wit and insight, without ever sacrificing the Ancient Rome environment.

Highly Recommended for fans of epic cinema, Stanley Kubrick, Kirk Douglas, or Laurence Olivier. I did not expect to be as enthralled by the 220 minute film as I was; Kubrick proves his everlasting steel grip of the balls of cinema once more.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

An emotional rollercoaster to say the least. The film opens with old Cate Blanchett on her death bed with Hurricane Katrina happening outside. It's bleak, and stays that way; the plot's main concern is the theme of loss and the fleeting nature of life and human experience. It's deep, but rough. I found it a pretty moving experience, and I can see why this connected with certain viewers as deeply as it did.

Craft wise, the film's near perfect. The epic nature of the film is more than deftly handled by David Fincher, and there are several set pieces that are flawlessly executed. The production design, costuming, and music are all top notch and very evocative of the storybook nature of the film. Dialogue even has some nice Hemingway-esque touches here and there. Pitt and Blanchett are both phenomenal in all of their ages, and Taraji P. Henson is really one of the most likable actresses working today, and shows it here. Tilda Swinton has a wonderful turn as a married English woman who has an affair with Benjamin; if the film has a flaw, its that the initial beats of Pitt and Blanchett's relationship do not match up to the sophistication and charm of his and Swinton's scenes together.

Without having Slumdog Millionaire, I can't say for sure whether this deserved Best Picture over that...but it certainly seems that way. Highly recommended.