These lines are not dubbed, so it’s not even like they’re lame because the dubbers had to match lip movements. They’re lame because someone seriously wrote down “the river of time and space” and someone else approved it and then someone else SAID IT. ON PURPOSE.
My only regret is that you can only watch it for the first time once. Never again will I watch this scene and say, "Holy crap, is he unbuckling his pants?" and not know the answer.
Hint: Yes.
More on this movie later, when I have more coherent thoughts.
So, for this installment of Questionable Taste Theatre, I will be reviewing Stormy Monday, a movie I love and can never remember the ending of, because the movie is so much atmosphere and so little plot that the movie ITSELF doesn’t really care about the ending.
Nutshell: During “America Week” in Newcastle, England, a young man looking for work at a club ends up tangled in a web of love, business, crime, and a Polish jazz band.
I first saw this movie when I was about 12, and even though I didn’t see it again for several years I remembered it vividly. The plot, which is secondary, receded into the background immediately, but the way this movie is structured and shot makes it one of the most compelling movies of its genre. If “mood piece” is a genre.
Check that out. Thumbs up, Figgis.
Long story short: Brendan (Sean Bean) finds work cleaning Finney’s (Sting) nightclub. It’s “America Week”, and in order to join in the festivities Brendan is set to work shuttling around a Polish jazz band — the most important plot element, by the way. Look at this:
With a ‘stache like this, the movie’s GOTTA be good.
The plot, if there is one, centers around the festival: Brendan’s relationship with his enigmatic boss; his enigmatic boss’s relationship with Cosmo (Tommy Lee Jones), an American businessman who’s taking “America Week” seriously and wants to snatch up some real estate; and Kate, an American lost soul who waits tables and occasionally escorts for Cosmo.
But this isn’t at all what the movie’s about. The movie is about windows and mirrors, television as crystal ball, the distances between people.
Or, in the above case, the distance between a man and his Billie Holliday poster.
The most amazing thing about this movie is how fucking quiet it is. The loudest thing that happens is the Polish jazz band getting experimental. It sucks you in with quiet, offbeat scenes. Kate and Brendan dance to blues in a nightclub, and in the background you see a supermodel-type close dancing with a short, bald guy, her chin resting on his head. A piano tuner silently moves through all the characters’ lives, and is never remarked upon. Finney, threatened and friendless, plays a bass solo in his empty club as the camera sits quietly nearby like the last patron. Brendan, instructed to tell Finney when the bruisers show up, waits in the rim of a round window. (Seriously, that’s the whole scene, and it’s amazing.)
What this movie does right: Almost everything. This is one of those movies I’m surprised doesn’t get mentioned more often in the history of art-house film; the artistry here is not to be missed. Also, not once does it talk down to its audience; it gives you a million quiet moments and doesn’t force a big theme on them. Just, quiet moments. I’d say more, but there are too many spoilers, and this movie has so little plot it seems a shame to give away the only two plot points left. Casting: Tommy Lee Jones is great, Sean Bean gives his second-best performance of his career (Go Boromir!), and Sting is so quiet and in control that I just assumed Sting could act. Uh, until I saw him act in other stuff. Oh, Sting.
What this movie does wrong: Eh, Melanie Griffith doesn’t really have chops, but her part is “object of the gaze”, so I suppose it doesn’t matter. Oh, and the Polish jazz band is awful. Seriously.
Above: Paging Edward Hopper.
Final word: HELLA RECOMMENDED. I am not ashamed to love this movie in public. It’s a total mood piece, and it is just too cool for school.
The fourth-best man-raised-by-rats movie in the world is currently winging its way to me. Friday night will be the first viewing, post office willing. Friday night +30 minutes is probably when I will turn it off for having too much gore. (I’m a weenie.)
The best part of this picture is how grumpy he looks, as if all he wanted was to swan around with his velvet cape in peace, and the cameraman totally ruined his afternoon.
I am so excited about a new movie. I don’t like going to the theatre and, when I have time, I find myself rewatching old favorites just as often as looking for new movies, so sometimes three months go by without me seeing a new movie. I NEVER watch horror movies, and even action movies have to be pre-approved, since a lot of them just raise my blood pressure. This movie is a huge departure for me, and I am only going to watch it with the understanding that it has a responsibility to be hilarious. If it weirds me out and I have to stop watching I’m going to be really sad. However, with promo stills like the one above, I think it’s smooth sailing for the Laugh Boat.
However, I am SUCH a dork about this new movie that I am already thinking about writing up my favorite movies – some of which are good, some of which are awful, some of which tread some horrible line in the middle that I can never figure out – and display my questionable taste to the world at large. I’m thinking that Thursdays will be Questionable Taste days until I run out of favorite movies.
So as of tomorrow, it’s Questionable Taste season!
Movies Already Questioned
1. The Polar Bear King – a tale of a life-size animatrionic polar bear puppet, and the woman who loved him.
2. The Warriors – the story of a bunch of apeshit-crazy gang members who kick asses on a desperate run from the Bronx to Coney Island.
ETA: 3. The Red Shoes! Man, how could I forget the “kids’ movie” that turned me into the freak I am today. The box cover says it all, people.
Girl alert – I loved A Room with a View. It’s the lemon-frosted cupcake of film; what’s not to like? And of course I crushed out on George Emerson, just like any other girl who sat at home on Friday nights in high school clutching her life-size Jane Austen pillow and sighing over a guy whose idea of summer wear is a three-layer linen suit and a big straw hat. Julian Sands played this oddball with happy intensity, and all was right with the world.
Then, Julian Sands was in Boxing Helena, and after that I couldn’t look at him any more, and that’s all I have to say about that movie that isn’t said in all caps as I flail like I’m covered in beetles.
I still haven’t gotten over that movie, to the point that when I saw him in a YouTube clip today I clicked away instantly, thinking it was from Warlock or something, but then I realized that it was a romantic songvid (don’t ask) and so Warlock it was not.
How did I live this long without knowing about this movie? Well, I am taking care of that THIS WEEKEND.
I’m excited! It has some markers for genius filmaking: namely, changing the storyline (now the Phantom is raised by rats, you guys. Not deformed, just, you know, raised by rats), and Julian Sands’ wig, which is so bad that every time this music video cuts to him, I laugh out loud. I’ve seen this video four times. No joke, I laugh out loud. Every. Time. How many comedies can boast a 100% rate of return on a joke?
If you need further evidence that this movie about a bewigged rat-child stalking an opera singer who wears transparent dresses and runs around alone at night is worth seeing, check out the trailer, featuring a lighthearted operetta moment as people are violently butchered!
