Not really sure who the targeted audience was for this movie. Kiddie goths?
Don't get me wrong - I enjoyed the film. It's a visual feast and will probably be go down as one of the hallmarks in stop motion animation. Those who have seen The Nightmare Before Christmas, director Henry Selick's first feature, will probably recognize similar motifs and designs in Coraline. There are some truly fantastic sequences that inspire awe, wonder and horror (i.e. the scene where Coraline's father unveils a garden made in his daughter's image).
Whether this is a film for kids is up for debate. Even though it's rated PG, it's advisable that you don't take anyone under the age of ten (or nine - kids are so savvy these days and it seems like they're reaching that point at a younger age) unless you want them forever agitated by the sight of buttons. The visuals aren't the only unsettling aspect of the film; the story is just as off-putting as the images of deformed human shapes that permeate the screen. Coraline, the titular character, is a cheeky young girl who discovers another world through a hidden door in her house. The Other World is a mirror of her own, except everyone there is perfect (albeit creepingly so) as opposed to the dreary humdrum of characters that exist in her real world.
Sounds familiar? If you're thinking Lewis Carroll, you'd be right - if Lewis Carroll was inspired by Edgar Allan Poe to write Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. In Coraline, deranged smiles are sewn onto faces along with black buttons that feign as eyes, hands are transfigured into arachnid claws (a nod to Edward Scissorhands) and ghost children with no souls or eyes are trapped behind a mirror forever. Again, be advised to watch this film without highly impressionable people if you want to admire vividly nightmarish imagery and avoid screaming/crying/wailing distractions.
Overall, it's a well-made film and definitely recommended for anyone who's a fan of arthouse animation.
Filming on location can be a tricky thing. Getting permits, capturing the right lighting, trying to effectively manage an entire film crew plus equipment...it's a headache, and a major reason why some filmmakers prefer to shoot inside a studio. Fortunately for us, the makers of Memories of Murder opted for the former and, as a result, the film bears some of the most strikingly authentic and original visuals in a police thriller.
Dickensian conditions, for once, aren't watered down for squeamish viewers. The look of the film is refreshingly filthy - a police station cluttered with paperwork and bedraggled suspects, restaurants filled with smoke and static noise from an old TV, a squalid flat infested with flies, train tracks battered down with mud and rain. These settings may seem familiar to you, being somewhat typical of the genre they belong to, but when was the last time you felt the characters were truly inhabiting the world portrayed onscreen?
The story takes place in Korea, 1986. A rural village is terrorized by a local serial killer whose victims are single, young and attractive women. The police round up the usual suspects, but they have no luck and no leads probably because...well, because they're stupid. And incompetent, arrogant, dishonest and abusive. I've never been more enthralled by a movie where the cops are so cheerfully ignorant and dimwitted. At one point during the film, a detective consults a shaman to help him with the case. Her advice? "Move the main gate of the police station 10 km southwest." How this has any bearing on the case I'm not exactly sure, but the detective is convinced that it does.
As I mentioned before, the characters act like they belong to the time and setting of the film. Furthermore, they have limitations - no Sherlock Holmes-like intellect, no state-of-the-art forensic science to help them (in a hilariously random moment, a tractor runs over a footprint in a crime scene). Compare this movie with an episode of CSI and you see just how often procedural dramas these days rely on plot devices rather than delve into the nitty gritty grind of real police work. Memories of Murder is fascinating to watch because the detectives work with what little they're given and aren't always led methodically to the right answers (another film that comes to mind: Kurosawa's High and Low). They stumble onto clues, yes, but more often time than not those clues lead to nowhere and end up making the case more frustrating and confusing.
If you're sitting at home one evening, debating whether to watch this movie or The Mentalist...please, turn your gaze from Simon Baker's handsome mug and watch Memories of Murder. You won't be disappointed.
Ali plays like one long (very long), gorgeously-shot music video. Beautiful to look at, dynamic soundtrack, but never a point when you're truly engaged. Given the subject matter, it seems impossible to think that a movie about Muhammad Ali - arguably the most electrifying athlete and sports personality ever - could be boring. Yet that's the one word that pretty much sums up this biopic. When Ali (Will Smith) defeats George Foreman at the end of the film (sorry for the "spoiler") and raises his arms in triumph in front of thousands of Zairians chanting his name, the scene should have scored a 10 on the "chill-factor" scale. Yet it ends up feeling flat (flat!) and all the expectations of greatness anticipating this film ends with disappointment.
The movie chronicles ten years of Ali's professional career - from his first fight with Sonny Liston to the aforementioned "Rumble in the Jungle" with George Foreman. In between the boxing scenes are well-documented accounts from Ali's personal life: his involvement with Malcolm X and the Nation of Islam, his refusal to be drafted and subsequent banishment from boxing, his friendship with Howard Cossell and his numerous affairs with women and failed marriages. There are also scenes from famous moments in history (i.e. the assassinations of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr.) that seemingly have no relation to Ali whatsoever other than the fact that they portray the time of social upheaval during which Ali ascended to fame. In the end, you really don't know what to make of this movie: is it supposed to be historical fiction a la Oliver Stone, an inspirational sports flick like Rocky, or an uncompromising look at a complex athlete's life (Raging Bull)? The movie tries be all three and ends up being too sprawling and scattered.
There are moments, glimpses, of sublimity but they never really take off. Although the performances are outstanding, there's no emotional attachment to any of the characters because the scenes play like dramatic reenactments from real life, rather than real life unfolding onscreen. The opening sequence shows so much promise, until you realize that the rest of the movie carries on pretty much the same way:
Great music, great shots - cut to a scene with some dramatic dialogue - cue in great music, cut to great shots. Yep, that's Ali, in only so many words.
I have no idea how this movie got made. No bankable stars (except for Pacino), no female parts (which equals no sex), no action, no feel-good comedy. Really? An all male cast who share the screen just to...talk? I'm guessing Jerry Tokofsky, the producer of the film, probably had this running conversation with every studio exec at the time when he was making the pitch:
Tokofsky: Hey, I got this great project in development! It's called Glengarry Glen Ross. We already got Al Pacino to commit. Studio exec: Great! What's it about? T: It's about these salesmen who try to sell land. (awkward pause) SE: Uhm, ok... T: Oh, and the script's by David Mamet! SE: Mamet? I loved House of Games! So it's like a mystery/thriller, then? With a crazy plot twist? T: No, not exactly... SE: Then what is it? T: It's about, uh...guys who try to sell land. (Long awkward pause) T: Did I mention we got Pacino to commit?
To no one's surprise, no major studio wanted to finance this film. The funding came from multiple small cable and video companies, a German television station, an Australian movie theater chain, several banks, and New Line Cinema. All the actors took pay cuts and despite the moderate budget, the film flopped at the box office.
We're probably not going to see another movie like this being made in the near future. And it's a shame, really, because everything that is fundamental to movies (or, I should say, good movies) is found in Glengarry Glen Ross. Great acting. Superb writing. You'll be hard pressed to find a movie with a cast and script half as good as GGR's. Despite the thin plot (there's a burglary in the second act and not much else) and real estate jargon (the word leads is probably said 300 times and it's meaning didn't dawn on me til the 150th), the movie captivates the audience's attention because of the aforementioned performances and writing. If you're an aspiring filmmaker, please (please!) pay attention to what makes GGR so great.
Let's start with the cast. Jeez, what a cast. The movie was made circa 1992 - Alec Baldwin and Kevin Spacey were relatively newcomers, Ed Harris had done a couple big features (The Right Stuff, The Abyss), Al Pacino was Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon was an old Hollywood vet, and Alan Arkin was the immaculate character actor you always recognized in a film you can't quite remember (oh yeah, he was in the Rocketeer! So that's where I've seen him!). Throw in Jonathan Pryce (who proves, yet again, that Brits are better at acting American than real Americans) and you've got what's possibly the greatest acting ensemble ever. Check that list again - there's not a fraud in there. Compare a film like this with Valentine's Day and you see why casting is so crucial to a movie. Big names don't beget good movies; great actors who fit their roles do. Consider, for example, the scene where Shelley Levine (Lemmon), tries to sell a pitch to one of his leads:
Could you imagine anyone else who could play Levine? Sure, you could get another actor, possibly more famous, but you won't get the same result. Notice the way he leaves the man's house after he's failed - a quick raise of the eyebrows, a sad glance back and you sense the quiet desperation that is growing inside him, even though he hasn't spoken a word.
I could go on and on about each individual's performance and how they light up the screen (the opening ten minutes of Baldwin's rant has become iconic, as evidenced by a hilarious parody in an SNL skit) but I'll end with a note on the film's screenplay. The script, adapted from David Mamet's play, is all kinds of wonderful: poetically profane, scathingly witty and filled with awesome one-liners that are impossible to forget ("Put that coffee DOWN!"). Some might complain that real people don't talk the way they do in GGR, but that's the point - when do you ever see people talk the way they do in movies? I hate dialogue when it's treated like a mere contrivance to push the plot forward ("Oh no, we need to diffuse this bomb in thirty seconds or the place is gonna blow!") so it's a real treat to see a film where dialogue is the main attraction. Each line in GGR is worded and timed so precisely that it takes more than one viewing to get the full admiration it deserves:
"Pa-tel?! Ravadahm Pa-tel?!" A great line, from a great movie. Do yourself a favor and watch it.
*** Coraline (2009)
