Chrissy and I went to see Hollywoodland last night. Although the acting is (as you would expect) quite good, and the atmosphere is engaging, the movie is just really long. And I think I need to not see movies about people who commit suicide because they've realized their lives have no meaning. At least I need to not see movies like that for a while.
I'm also disappointed that the movie didn't make more out of the idea of Superman. Mostly the Superman part stood in for Reeves's failed ambitions -- the blue and red suit is really grey on grey; the man for whom an audience of children cheers wildly is drunk behind the set and then terrified by an eight year old boy. That seems almost too pat to me. Part of what interests me in the story is the way Superman, and Reeves, can become an icon for an American public that is as desperate for extraordinariness as Reeves was himself. The movie gestures towards the idea that disillusion with a super-man or a super-life is one of the tests of adulthood (Adrian Brody's character passes; Ben Affleck's does not; Diane Lane's might; the kid is the arbiter of it all), but doesn't really explore the concept at any significant depth.
I guess I was hoping for something more like Kavalier and Clay or Empire Falls, but that's probably too much to expect out of a movie. Or at least, out of most movies. I think perhaps one thing that happens is that the film sidetracks itself by worrying too much about gender -- is Reeves's problem that he's a "kept man?" Do men ever really see women, or women ever really see men? I'm not interested in those questions in the context of this movie, but -- perhaps out of a need to play up any Diane Lane/Ben Affleck chemistry there is (and there's not so much) -- the movie is.
But I'm being extra-critical. It isn't bad. I just kind of wish we'd gone to see either The Illusionist or The Science of Sleep instead.
Meanwhile, I've finished grading the papers for my 381 section. It's interesting that, of the people who wrote screenplays (one of the paper options this time), nearly all of them said they had trouble expressing ambiguity or felt that the camera is a far less ambiguous medium than the written word.
That isn't something that I -- as someone who has almost an obsession with watching movies and television "against" their most overt messages -- normally feel is true. I think it's quite interesting that most of my students, however -- and likely, most people -- do think so.
I tend to believe that we all see the supposed "truth" of the camera as always undermined, or potentially undermined, by the recognition that it is both manipulative and manipulable. (Not a word. But you know what I mean.) But that's probably naive of me. We are are all, in our century, very confident readers of moving pictures, and it gives us the sense that we are, perhaps, attunded to that medium in a way that is more straightforward or organic than any other.
I guess that's one of the points that any movie about movies (like Hollywoodland) is making, although I do think they tend to fall into the trap of asserting that the only secrets or ambiguities of film are caused by the personal lives of the people behind and before the camera. Anyway, it's interesting. And in some ways depressing.
Much like thinking about meaningless lives. Yeah, no more suicide movies for me for a while. Only happy! All happy movies all the time!
Oh -- and I think I'll dress as Oscar Wilde for Halloween.
I'm also disappointed that the movie didn't make more out of the idea of Superman. Mostly the Superman part stood in for Reeves's failed ambitions -- the blue and red suit is really grey on grey; the man for whom an audience of children cheers wildly is drunk behind the set and then terrified by an eight year old boy. That seems almost too pat to me. Part of what interests me in the story is the way Superman, and Reeves, can become an icon for an American public that is as desperate for extraordinariness as Reeves was himself. The movie gestures towards the idea that disillusion with a super-man or a super-life is one of the tests of adulthood (Adrian Brody's character passes; Ben Affleck's does not; Diane Lane's might; the kid is the arbiter of it all), but doesn't really explore the concept at any significant depth.
I guess I was hoping for something more like Kavalier and Clay or Empire Falls, but that's probably too much to expect out of a movie. Or at least, out of most movies. I think perhaps one thing that happens is that the film sidetracks itself by worrying too much about gender -- is Reeves's problem that he's a "kept man?" Do men ever really see women, or women ever really see men? I'm not interested in those questions in the context of this movie, but -- perhaps out of a need to play up any Diane Lane/Ben Affleck chemistry there is (and there's not so much) -- the movie is.
But I'm being extra-critical. It isn't bad. I just kind of wish we'd gone to see either The Illusionist or The Science of Sleep instead.
Meanwhile, I've finished grading the papers for my 381 section. It's interesting that, of the people who wrote screenplays (one of the paper options this time), nearly all of them said they had trouble expressing ambiguity or felt that the camera is a far less ambiguous medium than the written word.
That isn't something that I -- as someone who has almost an obsession with watching movies and television "against" their most overt messages -- normally feel is true. I think it's quite interesting that most of my students, however -- and likely, most people -- do think so.
I tend to believe that we all see the supposed "truth" of the camera as always undermined, or potentially undermined, by the recognition that it is both manipulative and manipulable. (Not a word. But you know what I mean.) But that's probably naive of me. We are are all, in our century, very confident readers of moving pictures, and it gives us the sense that we are, perhaps, attunded to that medium in a way that is more straightforward or organic than any other.
I guess that's one of the points that any movie about movies (like Hollywoodland) is making, although I do think they tend to fall into the trap of asserting that the only secrets or ambiguities of film are caused by the personal lives of the people behind and before the camera. Anyway, it's interesting. And in some ways depressing.
Much like thinking about meaningless lives. Yeah, no more suicide movies for me for a while. Only happy! All happy movies all the time!
Oh -- and I think I'll dress as Oscar Wilde for Halloween.
Labels: movies, representation, reviews
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