Time is a Flat Circle or: Haven't I Seen True Detective Before?

by Tony Dayoub

When True Detective promos started popping up on HBO months ahead of its debut, it was difficult to figure what it was all going to be about. About all one could dig up was that it was an 8-episode series, shot in Louisiana (employing a few of the actors of HBO's just-cancelled Treme), starring two well-established stars, Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson—neither of whom were on the usual descending trajectory movie stars travel when they decide to move to television—with a title that evoked the pulpy aesthetic of the mystery magazine that ran for decades.

Crazy Heart: The Invisible Man Emerges

by Tony Dayoub

With Jeff Bridges a seeming lock for Best Actor in this year's Oscar races, there come the inevitable disclaimers, "Yeah, he deserves one, but this isn't necessarily the performance for which he should be getting it." True that in the past, Oscar has been bestowed on notable actors in second-rate roles as compensation for being overlooked in other more important performances. Most famously, Al Pacino got one for Scent of a Woman (1992) despite three instances (okay, maybe two) in which he could and should have received one for his captivating minimalist performance as Michael Corleone in The Godfather series, forever justifying his irritating inclination to play it big. Indeed, Denzel Washington was another actor who received one of these Oscars for Training Day (2001) when he really deserved it for Malcolm X in the year that Pacino got his award. What no one seems to be saying about Bridges' performance as country singer Bad Blake in Crazy Heart is that in this case, the honor may actually be deserved.


Part of the reason, no doubt, is the "been there, done that" issue that arises when one looks at Crazy Heart and the debt it owes to its predecessor, Tender Mercies (1983). So greatly do the two films stories of aging alcoholic country singers dovetail, it was necessary to cast the latter's Robert Duvall (who won an Oscar for that, concidentally) and throw him a producer credit just to acknowledge the inevitable comparisons between both films.

This is not to diminish the film's warmth and genuine relish in allowing one to observe Blake's self-loathing so closely. Director Scott Cooper presents Blake as a functioning alcoholic who has the old leather-feel of an endearing curmudgeon rather than the off-putting antics of an obnoxious scoundrel. Bridges invites the viewer into his charming sphere of influence much the same way he does his paramour Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal). He simply turns up the defensive allure an actor must rely on the same way an alcoholic has become accustomed to doing when evading the underlying predicament of his own existence.

This easy charm is what has thus far undercut Bridges chances for recognition. If all of his vastly different performances in great movies—from Duane in The Last Picture Show to the Dude in The Big Lebowski; from Bone in Cutter's Way to Scudder in 8 Million Ways to Die; from the titular Tucker to Max Klein in Fearless—can be made to look so easy, then is it any wonder that it's taken so long for Bridges to be acknowledged? Here, finally, is a role that stands out in an otherwise average film, and perhaps by aiming low Bridges has finally achieved the measure of success he has merited all along.

Movie Review: The Road (2009)

by Tony Dayoub



The clocks stopped at 1:17 one morning. There was a long shear of bright light, then a series of low concussions. Within a year there were fires on the ridges and deranged chanting. By day the dead impaled on spikes along the road. I think it's October, but I can't be sure. I haven't kept a calender for five years. Each day is more gray than the one before. Each night is darker—beyond darkness. The world gets colder week by week as the world slowly dies. No animals have survived. All the crops are long gone. Someday all the trees in the world will have fallen. The roads are peopled by refugees towing carts and road gangs looking for fuel and food. There has been cannibalism. Cannibalism is the great fear. Mostly I worry about food...always food; food and our shoes. Sometimes I tell the boy old stories of courage and justice—difficult as they are to remember. All I know is the child is my warrant, and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.

- The Man in The Road

A film that haunts long after it ends, The Road marries disparate genres such as the father-son and post-apocalyptic movies with the road picture. However, it does so a little too gently. The film delineates the grotesqueries that follow the apocalypse a little too artfully, allowing what should be a visceral story to slip into a cerebral one.


Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer-winning novel has the advantage of allowing to connect to the central character's interior life, to feel the horror of an apocalyptic aftermath. Viggo Mortensen does the best that he can to put the viewer in the Man's head space as he faces inevitable death in a world where no one is left to take over the role of parent to a young Boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Time and again, the Man and the Boy face situations where they can only trust each other: running into a gang of cannibals; discovering a basement dungeon in an old house, its prisoners maimed to supply their limbs as food to the house's residents; encountering a twitchy thief (Michael K. Williams) who steals their dwindling supplies. With each succeeding event, the Man loses a bit of his humanity, intent on surviving even if it means he gives into savagery. More than any of the grisly sights this film offers, its most frightening aspect is the Man's fear that the Boy will end up alone an defenseless when he dies.

But the boy has only ever known this life. Born in the aftermath of whatever destroyed the world, he is an innocent believer in the stories of justice his father has recounted. And it is his optimism that keeps his father on the path of benevolence. Young Smit-McPhee is as fierce as Mortensen, holding his own with the veteran actor in scenes where the Boy defends humanity's virtues just as his father's cynicism starts to prevail over his innate decency.

Unfortunately, the drawback is director John Hillcoat's detached perspective on the story. Hillcoat (The Proposition) endows the film with the appropriate bleakness called for. But the wide-angle point of view taken—no doubt to preserve the metaphorical and mythical stature of the tale—always keeps the viewer at a safe distance. The result is that one is never allowed to fully identify with the Man's moral dilemma and how it impacts his approach to the survival of his son.

Ironically, The Road's strongest moments are the ones that deviate in the book, flashbacks where the viewer learns what became of the Man's wife (Charlize Theron). In one memorable scene, a pregnant Theron conveys the horror of their post-apocalyptic existence when she begins to go into labor. She realizes this is no world to bring her son into, and one can actually see the moment in which her character's last spark of hope is completely extinguished. Theron's defeated Wife is a presence that hangs over the film long after her last scene, a constant reminder of the humanity and optimism that the Man has lost.

If the reader senses conflicted feelings from this writer, he or she is correct. The Road touched the father in this writer, spurring thoughts of its inherent metaphorical message. This father has thought of how his sons' lives might change every time he gets on a flight and frets about the chances it might not land safely. But The Road never transcends its "what if?" quality, never gets the viewer involved enough to feel the true terror of living in a dying world, and how it would fuel any parent's apprehension about abandoning their children to a dark fate.

Seventies Cinema Revival: M*A*S*H (1970)

Attention. Captain Banning... er, Captain Bandini. [exhales] Attention. Captain Bandini is now performing a femoral po... a popli... a p... a femoral P-O-P-L-I-T-E-R-A-L artery exp... exp... exploration and possible graft.

-P.A. Announcer

When screenwriter Ring Lardner, Jr., another member of the blacklisted "Hollywood Ten," adapted Richard Hooker's satirical novel MASH, no one expected the film's virtually unknown director to bring anything unusual to the table. Robert Altman had been toiling in Hollywood for years on TV shows like Bonanza, and Combat! But it wasn't until he accepted an offer to direct Lardner's script that he began making his mark in cinema. Most only know of M*A*S*H from its long-running television series incarnation starring Alan Alda. Very few realize that it was originally a film directed by the now legendary director. The dark comedy is a lot zanier and looser than the comedy-drama that ran on TV. It follows the medics of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War. Two of the principal protagonists, Captain "Hawkeye" Pierce (Donald Sutherland) and Capt. "Trapper" John McIntyre (Elliot Gould), lead the charge in creating madcap pranks that help ease the natural tension and monotony that can arise in the hurry-up-and-wait environment of a mobile military hospital. The objects of their comedic torture are usually straight-laced career military officers that condescend towards them or their cohorts, people like Major Frank Burns (Robert Duvall) or Maj. Margaret Houlihan (Sally Kellerman). Fans of the series who always wondered where the beloved "Hot Lips" Houlihan got her nickname would be surprised by its obscene origins as presented in the film. During a nighttime tryst with Burns, which ends up being broadcast over the P.A. by Trapper John, Houlihan is heard passionately telling Burns, "Oh, Frank, my lips are hot. Kiss my hot lips." This is but one of the taboos the film so deliciously revels in poking fun at. But surgeons Trapper John and Hawkeye are as talented in the OR as they are at busting chops. Scenes of hilarity are mashed up (pun intended) next to blood-soaked scenes of operating room carnage. Altman's aim is to demonstrate that as undignified or downright profane the doctors' antics are, all of it pales in the shadow of the war that serves as the story's backdrop. The ultra-liberal Altman hoped to comment on the war raging in Vietnam at the time of M*A*S*H's release, largely by ignoring its Korean setting in anything but a handful of references. He attains a level of realism seldom found in even dark comedies by applying techniques which would later become the director's hallmarks. Verisimilitude is achieved by having the characters step on each others dialogue the way natural conversation occurs in life. Performances (by many of Altman's repertory cast working with him here for the first time) are obviously improvised, but still directed to support the story, giving the comedy a streak of insanity that never descends into chaos. And his innovative use of the zoom in the otherwise dull-looking cinematography helps the director focus our attention on any of the multiple goings-on taking place in each densely layered scene. Tying all of the nonsense together are non-sequitur P.A. announcements reportedly transcribed verbatim from real announcements made during the Korean War. M*A*S*H is the type of film that has so much going on that one can always find something new in the margins. M*A*S*H made its debut on Blu-ray earlier this month. While most of the Special Features are direct port-overs from the original 2001 two-disc DVD, there is a great interactive guide one can play during the film to keep its voluminous cast of characters straight. Don't expect any edge enhancement because the Blu-ray is honoring Altman's original vision. The dull-edged cinematography with its hazy lighting was restored for the 2001 DVD, but it has never looked better than it does on Blu-ray. As one of the most important and beloved of American films, M*A*S*H is worth adding to your Blu-ray collection.

Seventies Cinema Revival: The Godfather Part II

It may be bold to say this, but I believe The Godfather Part II (1974) to be the best American narrative film ever made. Even among its fans, many prefer the first film. But I would hasten to point out that without the second film, The Godfather (1972) is simply a well-cast genre picture. Part II's double-pronged storyline, with Robert De Niro playing Vito Corleone in his early days, and Al Pacino continuing his portrayal of son Michael, enriches and adds complexity to the story begun in the first film. Director Francis Ford Coppola, who cowrote the screenplay, fleshes out the family's travails by bringing his own experience as an Italian American to Mario Puzo's original story. His deft ability to enhance the Corleone saga with actual historical events further frames the saga as the ultimate immigrant's tale, and adds a distinctly jaded viewpoint to what it means to be an American. Thus the film, released in the Watergate era, the height of Americans' disillusionment with their country, is both timeless and of its time. The film begins in the 1900s, with a young and near-mute Vito Andolini, of the town of Corleone, Sicily, taking flight to America after his family has been slaughtered by local Mafia chieftain, Don Ciccio. In Ellis Island, the boy is mistakenly renamed Vito Corleone, becoming first in the family line in a symbolic sense. The story then jumps to the late fifties, where his son, Michael, happily married to Kay (Diane Keaton), has moved the family to Lake Tahoe, a place he hopes will serve as the jumping point for his goal of achieving legitimacy for his family. Coppola consciously parallels events in the first film to highlight the differences between the father and son. For instance, while we meet Vito, in the first film, urgently conducting Family business in order to enjoy his daughter's wedding, in the second film, Michael is eagerly exploiting his son's communion celebration to establish political ties with the powerful Senator Geary (G.D. Spradlin). Though Vito is quick to consider the price he pays after his eldest son is murdered, calling for a truce, Michael seeks to incite infighting within his ranks, and mentor Hyman Roth's (Lee Strasberg), in order to pick through the remains and consolidate his power in the aftermath. Coppola also highlights the difference between Vito and Michael as he segues between the respective storyline for each. Vito is warm, and generally holds court with his caporegimes, Clemenza (Bruno Kirby) and Tessio (John Aprea), at his kitchen table with his wife nearby. The increasingly distant and paranoid Michael conspires, sitting as if on a throne in a darkened den at the family compound, with only his closest bodyguards, Al Neri (Richard Bright) and Rocco (Tom Rosqui), present. Kay is never privy to his dealings, and often times even the consigliere, adopted brother Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) is left out of the loop. Vito's primary concern is always the protection of his family and his neighbors, as when he eliminates the neighborhood extortionist, Don Fanucci (Gaston Moschin), in this exciting setpiece that precedes the film's intermission: Michael's desire to protect his family is supplanted by his capitalistic desire to acquire power and control, vanquishing all of his enemies in the process, even if it may include his own misguided brother, Fredo (John Cazale). Coldly setting a calculated series of traps to ferret out the person in his Family who is supplying Roth with inside information, it is only on the eve of Castro's revolutionary victory in Cuba, New Year's Eve 1958, that Michael discovers who it is: After the intermission, Michael becomes embroiled in scandal, as a Senate committee starts to investigate his dealings with organized crime. He is ultimately exonerated, but his alienation from his family accelerates with the one-two-punch of Kay's request for a divorce followed by her revelation that she had an abortion. After the additional blow of his mother's death, which serves to bring his sister Connie (Talia Shire) back into the fold, the stage is set for Michael to retaliate against Fredo. Contrast that personal vendetta that propels Michael into ruthless solitude, with the one that Vito must exact to become the Corleone patriarch. Where Michael's fratricide dehumanizes him, leaving him a deteriorating husk of a man by the end of Part II, Vito's revenge on Don Ciccio is depicted as a necessary archetypal rite of passage. Vito must assassinate the man who murdered his father to truly become a man. By killing the patriarch that rules over the town of Corleone, Vito solidifies his ascension as patriarch of the Corleone family. It is said that Puzo, author of the novel on which the two films are based, said that if he knew both films would be so popular, he would have written a better novel. A lot of credit for the story's enhancement belongs to Coppola. A second generation Italian American, Coppola directed the first film as a gun-for-hire, but was sure to bring enough personal touches to give the film credibility. A pretty faithful adaptation, his influence was strongest in its strong casting of what were, until then, predominantly character actors. Choosing a decidedly ethnic looking Pacino to play the All-American boy was his coup-de-grâce. The Godfather Part II validates Coppola's instinctive auteurial talents. He was able to again cast an ethnic looking up-and-comer in a pivotal role by choosing the gifted De Niro for Vito. He was able to exercise greater artistic freedom by using a nontraditional story structure, and a roman-à-clef bent on historical events, to give texture to the story, deepening what was a commercially successful gangster story into a mythic family crime saga about power in America. For Vito, the story ends here, when we realize that the greatest price he paid is one which he won't live to see: the ironic alienation of his youngest son Michael from his precious family, the loss of his very soul, as the sins of the father visit the son. At the conclusion of The Godfather Part II, as he exacts revenge on all of his enemies, the diseased Michael looks significantly older than his years. Michael then recalls a simpler time that devastatingly foreshadows his fate in regards to his family, with his father's presence hanging over the scene like a ghost's: For more on the Godfather films, see: Seventies Cinema Revival: The Godfather DVD Review: The Godfather Part III - Operatic Film Deserving of Reappraisal Stills courtesy of Paramount Pictures.

Seventies Cinema Revival: The Godfather

Last month, I had the opportunity to catch screenings of the newly restored prints of The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974) at the Film Forum in New York. These versions have been released on DVD and Blu-ray along with the unfairly maligned Godfather Part III (1990) in a boxed set, "The Godfather: The Coppola Restoration." If there has ever been a reason to justify upgrading to a Blu-ray player, it is the release of this classic saga in that format. I don't think the films have ever looked this good on home video. I certainly can't compare it to the original theatrical release because I was a newborn at the time of the first movie's debut. But seeing the first two parts both theatrically and at home, I can assure you, has been revelatory. While these films have been covered extensively in film journals and elsewhere in the past, I plan on sharing some of my impressions of each movie in the next three posts, and invite you to share yours. One of the most fascinating and unusual effects of art is how its meaning can differ based on the relative life experience one brings to it (there's a name for this effect and I can't quite find it, so any readers who know this please let me know). In film, it can be observed in oneself in relation to the passage of time. A film like The Godfather is one which can mean something when you are younger, then mean something very different when you are older. As a relatively new father, one of the specific chords the film strikes in me is found in the complicated relationship between the old family patriarch, Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando), and his unexpected successor, youngest son, Michael (Al Pacino). Don Vito is the chieftain of the Corleone Mafia Family, a role we'll later learn (in Part II) he fell into as a matter of survival in the days when new Italian immigrants had few viable options in their quest to succeed in America. He always expected his oldest son, Santino (James Caan), to be his successor, but midway through The Godfather, Sonny is mowed down by the Family's criminal rivals. Middle son Fredo (John Cazale) is too dim-witted to be considered as an alternate. And tradition precludes "adopted" brother, Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall), the shrewd Family consigliere or lawyer, from taking the post. So when the fading Don starts firming up his legacy, the burden falls on the only son he never hoped would be involved in the nefarious enterprise, war hero Michael. By all outward appearances, Michael is the All-American son in the immigrant family, an outsider. When we first meet him, it is 1945 and he has just returned from the War. He is attending the wedding of his sister, Connie (Talia Shire), with WASPy girlfriend Kay (Diane Keaton), clad in red as if further underlining her inherent incongruity. It is telling that they are not part of the wedding party, and sit apart from the rest of the Corleone family. But Michael only seems to live outside his family's violent sphere of influence. It soon becomes clear that he is not oblivious to the family's notoriety. Describing an associate of his father's, Luca Brasi (Lenny Montana), to Kay while hearing a singer at the wedding:

Kay Adams: Michael, you never told me you knew Johnny Fontane! Michael: Sure, you want to meet him? Kay Adams: Well, yeah! Sure. Michael: My father helped him with his career. Kay Adams: How did he do that? Michael: Let's listen to the song. Kay Adams: [after listening to Johnny for a while] Tell me, Michael. Please. Michael: Well when Johnny was first starting out, he was signed to a personal services contract with this big-band leader. And as his career got better and better he wanted to get out of it. But the band leader wouldn't let him. Now, Johnny is my father's godson. So my father went to see this bandleader and offered him $10,000 to let Johnny go, but the bandleader said no. So the next day, my father went back, only this time with Luca Brasi. Within an hour, he had a signed release for a certified check of $1000. Kay Adams: How did he do that? Michael: My father made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Kay Adams: What was that? Michael: Luca Brasi held a gun to the bandleader's head, and my father assured him that either his signature or his brains would be on the release. Kay Adams: ... Michael: That's a true story. [cut to Johnny singing again for about 10 more seconds before going back to Michael] Michael: That's my family Kay, that's not me.

Michael's war medals also emphasize that given the right circumstances he is prepared to kill. After his father is gunned down, and with Sonny's hotheaded and ill-advised retaliations threatening the family's survival, Michael is forced to confront that he may be the last best hope for the family, and tangentially, the Family. Michael's life takes a turn when he commits to the execution of Sollozo (Al Lettieri), the man responsible for his father's attempted murder. This event leads to Michael's exile to Sicily, where fate intervenes in so many ways that he never expected. He falls in love with, and marries a local, Apollonia (Simonetta Stefanelli), who eventually falls victim to the Mafia war his execution of Solozzo precipitated. His brother Sonny is also executed in the States while Michael is away. The man that returns from exile is devoid of any warmth, a coldly calculating pragmatist, eager to eliminate any and all who stand in his family's way. This conversation with his father illustrates the divergent paths each patriarch has taken. Vito's motivation has been protecting his family. The death of his eldest, Sonny, coupled with Michael's increasing involvement with the Family business, drive Vito to the realization that attaining power does not afford control over his family's safety. In fact, it lays the seed for the ultimate destruction of the Corleones.

Don Corleone: So, Barzini will move against you first. He'll set up a meeting with someone that you absolutely trust guaranteeing your safety and at that meeting you'll be assassinated. I like to drink wine more than I used to. Anyway, I'm drinking more. Michael: It's good for you, Pop. Don Corleone: Ah, I don't know. Your wife and your children, are you happy with them? Michael: Very happy. Don Corleone: That's good. I hope you don't mind the way I keep going over this Barzini business. Michael: No, not at all. Don Corleone: It's an old habit. I spent my life trying not to be careless. Women and children can be careless but not men. How's your boy? Michael: He's good. Don Corleone: You know, he looks more like you everyday. Michael: He's smarter than I am. Three years old and he can already read the funny papers. Don Corleone: [laughs] Read the funny papers... Oh, I want you to arrange to have a telephone man check all the calls going in and out of here because it could be anyone... Michael: I did that already, Pop. I took care of that. Don Corleone: Oh, that's right, I forgot. Michael: What's the matter? What's bothering you? I'll handle it. I told you I can handle it, I'll handle it. Don Corleone: I knew Santino was going to have to go through all this and Fredo... well, Fredo was... But I never wanted this for you. I live my life, I don't apologize to take care of my family. And I refused to be a fool dancing on the strings held by all of those big shots. That's my life I don't apologize for that. But I always thought that when it was your time that you would be the one to hold the strings. Senator Corleone. Governor Corleone. Something. Michael: I'm not a pezzonovante. Don Corleone: Well, there wasn't enough time, Michael. There just wasn't enough time. Michael: We'll get there, Pop. We'll get there.

Michael's mistake is in modeling himself after his father in order to achieve the results Vito couldn't. Believing in the false notion that he has lost enough to stay detached in the grand chess game he is playing, Michael does not foresee how history will repeat itself, and may even exact a higher price from him than it did from his father. The climax of The Godfather has Michael consolidating his power after Vito's death facilitates his ascendancy to the Corleone throne. In the last line of Michael's earlier exchange with Kay lies the crux of Michael's identity. It is the question that hangs over all three films. Many have made the assumption that it is answered by the end of Part II, but I would offer that the first two films simply show us the similarities and differences between father and son, Vito and Michael. Part II finishes the first patriarch's story, emphasizing the final price that Vito's life of crime exacts on his family, and more specifically, his son Michael. Michael's story is not concluded until we see the retribution destiny has in store for him in Part III. For more on the Godfather films, see: Seventies Cinema Revival: The Godfather Part II DVD Review: The Godfather Part III - Operatic Film Deserving of Reappraisal Stills courtesy of Paramount Pictures.